#literally have never been in an environment where you’re treated exactly how you treat others

[chryblossomjjk]

…

[courferre-stan]

I hope I’m not bothering you with these…

The little things Adrian likes to do for his s/o, without being asked? Things his s/o can do for him that will make him melt?

So sorry this took a little bit, I’m not sick anymore so I had to do some stuff around my house!

- Adrian Chase is the kind of guy who expects nothing back in a relationship. He’d do everything for his partner, and not expect a single one of those things to be reciprocated. I mean, after all, he did grow up in a very shitty environment where he almost never got taken care of and hardly got a chance to show his appreciation to others.

- After getting adjusted to the fact someone loves him and they in fact do want to spend their downtime with him, Adrian will practically jump headfirst into ‘how can I do absolutely everything and anything for them while they’re here to make things less of an inconvenience for them so they have a really good experience’, and that absolutely translates into later parts of the relationship, even when living together. You even slightly suggest the room is too cold? He’s tossing blanket after blanket at you, turning the heat on, etc. You’re hungry? He won’t even ask, he’ll figure out what your favorite food is and make it for you.

- I think his favorite thing to do for someone would probably be giving gifts or making them something, which again would tie into what I think his love languages are. Its 4am, he’s covered in blood and guts in his suit, and he’s walking into a 24/7 convenience store to buy you your favorite snacks for the movie night you two have planned for the following night. He could care less what people think at the counter think, he knows for a fact that it’s gonna make you smile when he gives you it and thats enough to convince him to do anything (while your smile could convince him to do anything, he still draws the line at committing crimes, unless you manage to overtake Chris for the #1 BFF ranking, then theres a solid chance he’d do that shit for you).

- Adrian doesn’t expect anything in return, like, EVER ever. He prefers gift giving more than receiving, he prefers to give complements more than receive, etc., so when you do decide to do something for him, he’s melting instantly, regardless of what exactly you do. He’s been kinda kicked around his entire life between his brother, his family, how Chris treats him, how he’s treated by coworkers, so he really doesn’t expect anything good to be given to him.

- You do his laundry whole doing yours? Make him lunch while making yours? Leave out a plate of dinner for him so he can eat when he comes back from doing Vigilante stuff? He’s putty in your hands, no doubt.

- You could quite literally bring home a tiny little pebble you saw on the street when walking from work and give it to him, and that pebble would be up on his shelf with everything else he loves to display within mere minutes.

- It’s the oddly domestic stuff that gets to him, especially if you’re both working long hours and hardly see each other during week days, even more so if you live together for an extended period of time.

- I could see Adrian bringing a small little tupperware with him on patrols in the Vigilante-mobile that you packed dinner in for him, since he could only swing by your place quickly after work. (You insist on him taking care of himself and eating at least three meals a day, considering he hardly sleeps and barely takes breaks from working, so this is your compromise). Chris would probably make a comment or two about how you’re acting like a married couple, but Adrian would be elated over it to say the least. He likes the dynamic you guys have, and its never expected of either of you to do stuff for the other. It’s entirely out of how much y’all care for each other.

[juniperhillpatient]

Zuko Alone Re-Watch

This is one of my favorite episodes in the entire series & I DO have a lot of thoughts on it but I also feel like it is one of the most heavily discussed episodes in the series. So, I'm struggling with having anything NEW to say about it, ya know? Also, full disclosure, this is yet another re-watch post made after a few glasses of wine. I'm blaming Thanksgiving leftovers. (ETA: after typing most of this last night I’ve come back to finish the post now on my phone sober & bored at work)

Anyway, ZUZU IS ON HIS OWN! When 'Midnights' dropped I kept saying "You're on Your Own Kid" was a Zuko™ song but I somehow just now realized that he even has a whole episode about it. Agni, I can't believe Miss Swift is such an Avatar fan. She seriously has more songs about the characters by the day!

Zuko, hon, seeing flashbacks of your mom as you almost pass out from hunger & heat is sooo normal, baby boy you're doing *great* king. ♫ I know that you got mommy issuessss.🎶

Zuko dealing with those earth kingdom national guard jerks was a whole ass mood. Look, you've either worked with the public or you haven't. If you have, you understand why Zuko's repetitive, deadpan "no" responses to these jerks were so funny. Also deadpan humor Zuko you’re so special to me <3

FLASHBACK TIME!!! Azula threw rocks (or at the very least bread or something) at the turtle ducks & that's mean but not that surprising from a little kid in her environment. Azula & Ty Lee's prank on Mai & Zuko was pretty mean but also exactly what middle schoolers with fire powers would do. Azula, Ty Lee, Mai & Zuko were clearly childhood friends even if there was a lot of toxicity in the dynamic between the four of them. And honestly, I just can't get over how well-written this show is & how well it develops & explores both its protagonists AND its antagonists.

I think that this episode is really interesting in the way that it explores the imperialist culture within the Fire Family. Literally, this show is just SO fucking good, I'll start eating drywall if I get too excited or think too hard about it. Because it's spent so much time - & will spend so much more time - exploring the impact of the war & how horrific it is for all the nations being colonized & attacked. And it ALSO spends time exploring the royal family & the individuals involved & WHY they are the way they are. When Ursa, Zuko, & Azula get news from Iroh joking about "burning Ba Sing Se to the ground'" they LAUGH! This is the goal that is supported & made as propaganda for the Fire Nation, especially the royal family. It's fascinating & horrifying all at once.

The flashbacks are (in my opinion) where the real meat of the episode is, but the present day is interesting too. Zuko learns some important lessons from the family that takes him in & I think the most important takeaway is that the earth kingdom has some kind people who are being hurt by the war & the Fire Nation. It was important for him to feel that hate in the end when Lee wouldn’t even accept his gift of the knife.

I also think that this is (despite literally being an episode about Zuko I’m sorry guys I’ve never denied that I have an Azula centric view lmao) a really good Azula episode. We learn a lot about what Azula’s childhood was like & the dynamic where Ursa treats Azula with disdain & dislike giving Ozai the perfect opportunity to mold Azula into the perfect little weaponized prodigy he wants.

A dissertation could easily be written about this episode but it’s already been talked about SO much so I’ll cut this review mostly short & leave y’all with my biggest takeaway which is that Zuko & Azula actually showed signs of friendship & camaraderie (playing together & laughing right before learning Lu Ten had died, Azula taking Zuko’s hand & dragging him off to spy) even if they were also forced to see each other as rivals because of Ozai & Ursa’s favoritism. It’s so important to understand this to appreciate the show & the character dynamics at play, because Zuko & Azula are so much more than just rivals who hate each other, a hero & a villain. It’s much more complicated & interesting than that.

Also worth noting that the flashback with Zuko & Azula playing together & then learning Lu Ten has died comes right before Lee learns that his brother has died. That’s just good writing.

Iconic Behavior points: Zuko gets 100 for his actions in the present trying to protect Lee & his family. Ursa really should get some for killing Azulon but I’m still so fucking mad at her for how she acts toward Azula… ugh, fine I have to be fair, 10 points. Azula & Ty Lee each get 100 points for the prank on Mai & Zuko. Azula gets 500 points for saving Zuko’s life as a child & having her creepy villain kid sing song moment. I’m on my phone so I’m not adding up the points for the season so far .

Anyway that was an iconic episode & I could say more about it but pretty much every scene is worth it’s own essay (except the stupid doll burning scene, more than enough has been said on that lol) so that’s all I have for now!

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Date With The Brothers Goes Terribly… Then it Starts to Rain.

Side Characters ver.

Hello my dearest degenerates, there’s nothing I love more than ridiculous crack fics, but I wanted to do some fluff, so here we go!

Lucifer

This just had to happen on Lucifer’s one day off… didn’t it? He had the entire day planned out, his brothers would be out doing their own thing, which left him and MC to have the entire day together.

The two of them would have gone to Ristorante 6, watched a movie, and simply enjoyed each other’s company. But no, Lucifer can’t have nice things.

It certainly started off that way, MC and Lucifer held hands as they made their way over to Ristorante 6, and the Avatar of Pride was reminded for the thousandth time exactly why he adored this human so much.

The human was both one of the most stress inducing parts of his life, and one of the few things that made him feel completely at peace. He would move mountains for them if they asked him too…

While Lucifer was in the middle of staring incredibly lovingly at his beloved MC, the human stopped suddenly and pointed ahead of them.

“I think Ristorante 6 may be… closed today.” “What do you mean, MC- oh.”

Apparently, two demons got into a very nasty fight inside, and one slammed the other through a wall. The restaurant was in the middle of scheduling repairs and would be closed until the hole in the wall was fixed. Lucifer developed the tiniest of tics in his right eye, but all MC had to do was squeeze his hand and give him that perfect smile of theirs… *sigh* they were right… there were other good places to eat.

Well, the cafe they wanted to go to was closed that day and they both walked over there for nothing… the second restaurant they went to was full on account of Ristorante 6 closing earlier…

Finally, the two practically trudged to Hell’s Kitchen, but Beel was there an hour earlier and cleared the entire place out…

Lucifer told MC not to fret, they’d just head to the movies and buy some snacks, sure it wasn’t the fancy dinner they planned but… at least it was food.

Oh… the movie they planned on seeing was… not running that night…

“Did you check online before we left?” “…damn.”

Their date was going decidedly terrible, MC and Lucifer were eating movie theatre popcorn outside, in outfits that were way too formal, and were rapidly becoming more and more convinced that the day was just… cursed.

Then… a crack of lightning, then it began to completely pour.

Lucifer winced the moment he heard the lightning, of course… of course it would start to rain… as the rain began to pour down on the two, he simply stared straight ahead, completely and utterly defeated.

The Morning Star, the right hand to the Crown Prince of The Devildom, The Avatar of Pride himself, was defeated by a simple thunderstorm. He took a deep breath in, prepared to shout, scream, throw a tantrum of the highest degree, then just visibly deflated. He turned to MC, who looked just as defeated and drained.

Lucifer wordlessly used his magic to put up a small shield above them, sheltering the two from the torrential downpour.

“You know,” MC mumbled, resting their head against Lucifer’s arm. “The movies make getting caught in the rain seem much more romantic…”

That comment elicited a quiet chuckle from Lucifer as he pulled MC into a hug. The two were already drenched, what did it matter if Lucifer got cheap popcorn butter all over the front of his outfit? Nothing else mattered when he was with the one person in the world who could make his heart swell with this much love and adoration.

“How about we head home, MC? I think I still have some of Barbatos’ cake hidden in the kitchen, we can enjoy that and listen to some music.”

Lucifer felt MC sigh against his front, then look up with that bright sparkling smile that never failed to make him blush.

“I’d like nothing more.”

Mammon

Okay, Mammon had this whole day planned, by the end of it, his human would be swooning! He had gotten paid big bucks from his latest modelling gigs, and he was going to treat MC to a full day with their first man.

First, they were going to spend the morning shopping, then they were going to eat lunch at this new restaurant that had just opened up, after lunch they were going to just kill time until dinner, then eat dinner at Hell’s Kitchen, then they were going to go home, get changed, then head out to The Fall, party, then head home again where MC would most definitely shower the Great Mammon with all the praise and affection he deserved!

Of course, MC would be given all the love and adoration they deserved and more! Mammon’s human was the best, and they deserved the best! The Avatar of Greed was ready!

Or so he thought. The day began with Mammon deciding that he was going to make himself and MC breakfast. It was going fine until Mammon got lost in an intense daydream and by the time he snapped out of it, Beel had eaten the pancake batter and there was no time to make anything else.

Mammon’s surprise breakfast ended up being toast and cut up fruit. It wasn’t so bad, but everyone knows that fruit is very unreliable. Sometimes it’s good… sometimes it’s squishy and unappetizing…

The morning shopping trip was ruined when Mammon went to withdraw money from his account and it turned out that the money from his shoot wasn’t in the account.

Apparently his paycheque was being held back because one of the modelling agencies was being sued.

“…MC?” “Come here, silly.”

After having his face peppered with kisses, Mammon was completely rejuvenated. His human had magic kisses, after all! They never failed to make him feel better!

The two decided that instead of a shopping spree they’d spend a couple hours of window shopping, after that when the two stopped for lunch at the new restaurant. Twenty minutes after eating there, Mammon was dry heaving over a trashcan while MC chugged a bottle of water to try and settle the awful nausea that had completely taken over. Perhaps a bad review would be necessary…

The time that was meant to be spent just wandering around the Devildom was completely ruined when those damn witches showed up! Mammon was not about to forfeit his time with MC to play servant to those three, so he grabbed his human and sprinted away.

That cat and mouse game with the witches lasted for literal hours and ended with Mammon and MC hiding behind a random alley dumpster…

Finally, Hell’s Kitchen, it turned out that they didn’t take too kindly to dine and dashers, so Mammon ended up spending the time he was supposed to be spending eating with MC waiting tables to pay off his tab.

After that, Mammon was too exhausted to even think about partying, so MC suggested that they just head home and watch some fun action movies.

The moment they began their walk home however…

A single drop of water tapped against Mammon’s sunglasses, he looked up and pointed a finger at the sky.

“No.”

Another drop of water hit the rim of his sunglasses.

“No!”

I’m a matter of seconds, it had begun to completely pour, Mammon dug his hands into his hair and shouted in frustration.

“NO! NO! NO! WHY RIGHT NOW?! Why… why right now..?” His outburst had quickly petered out into Mammon physically drooping and quietly taking off his jacket. He held it over MC so they would be spared the brunt of the rain and looked down at his now soaked shoes. “I… I’m sorry… MC…”

“Mammon, what are you sorry for?” MC said gently, lacing their fingers with his.

What kind of a question was that? Mammon had fucked up the date he had planned and made himself look like a complete idiot in front of the one person who showed him any amount of love and affection.

His heart sank as he managed to drag his gaze over to MC. They were worried about an idiot like him… maybe they’d be better off without needing to constantly babysit him…

“Today… everything… I dunno…” Mammon mumbled, MC looped their arms around him, being careful not to drop his jacket onto the wet ground.

“Are you kidding? You planned this entire nice day for the two of us,” when Mammon didn’t respond, MC took on a more firm tone. “Listen, sometimes dates don’t turn out good, that doesn’t mean you have to mope in the rain. Let’s go home, order some food, and watch a movie or some dumb show, whatever makes you happy.”

Though the constant patter of the rain made it difficult to hear, Mammon sniffled and finally returned the hug. His human really was the best.

“You’re too nice to me… ya know that?” Mammon whispered.

MC pressed a soft kiss to his lips and smiled. “Get used to it, because I don’t plan on stopping.”

Leviathan

Levi had to psyche himself up for months in order to do this… he had seen and swooned over cliche TV show dates thousands of times and now, he wanted to take MC on one.

Simply asking them was a Herculean task all on its own… Levi tried to kabedon them, and failed miserably and ended up head butting MC by accident. The Avatar of Envy could have shrivelled up and died of embarrassment right then and there, but MC let out the sweet laugh that never failed to make Levi’s heart swell. They accepted the date request.

When the day came, the two left the HOL, and Levi began his checklist of things that needed to happen to make this a perfect date. First! Dinner!

Dinner… did not pan out well to say the least. The place they had decided to go to was incredibly crowded and the two of them got seated in just the worst spot. They ended up needing to end their meal early and eat outside because Levi was getting hit with a bad case of sensory overload.

Eating outside wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t for the fact that it was cold and windy as hell… Levi was cold blooded… not figuratively, but mostly literally, he did not do well in overly cold environments. He ended up cuddling closer to MC, which would have been really romantic if he hadn’t accidentally spilled their drink all over them.

Okay… that didn’t turn out good… well, after dinner they were supposed to go do some karaoke! Levi loved karaoke! He could sing something cute and sappy for MC, that was a romance staple!

And the karaoke place was closed for renovations… ugh…

Levi wanted to just go home and abandon the whole date idea, but MC looped their arm around him and pulled him away from the closed karaoke place.

“Remember the arcade we went to a few months ago? I saw it on the way here, let’s go there instead.” “Are you sure you want to keep this date with me going..?” “Positive.”

The arcade was fun until Levi spotted the DDR (Devil Dance Revolution) game that he and MC got the high score on last time. Levi wanted to see what other noobs had tried and failed to beat him and MC.

It turned out… someone beat them…

It seemed like Baphomet and Azazel made a good DDR team because they had managed to knock Levi and MC down to second place by a lot, that wasn’t all, apparently someone was salty after not getting past Levi and MC and put “are dumb” under their names!

Levi was practically frothing at the mouth when he pulled MC to the DDR machine to restore their lost honour. They… did not restore their lost honour. Levi ended up getting so upset he tried to unplug the machine, which somehow ended up permanently freezing the high scores onto the screen. It seemed that the entire Devildom would know that Baphomet and Azazel were better than Levi and MC, and that they were both dumb…

There was still one more thing Levi had planned on doing during his date with MC, he wanted to take them to a cherry blossom tree and suavely kiss them under it. Sadly, there were no cherry blossom trees in the Devildom, but there was a pretty decent substitute that was in bloom during that time of year. Levi and MC made their way to a spot where Levi knew there was a tree, and stood under it.

That was when Levi suddenly realized he had no clue how to be suave and began to stutter-spiral. MC patiently waited for Levi to properly articulate what he wanted to say, when they spotted a unicorn in the distance! MC excitedly pointed it out to Levi, who immediately went pale. Apparently Devildom unicorns are very territorial and very aggressive. They are Satan’s familiar for a reason…

Booking it from a unicorn was not how Levi wanted to end the date… it really wasn’t… but the final straw that broke the camel’s back had arrived in the form of a single raindrop. Then another… then another…

“Levi, please get out of the pond…”

“Leave me, find someone better.”

After the rain had started, Levi had taken off his jacket, handed it to MC, then proceeded to float face down in full demon form in the middle of a pond. The Avatar of Envy was so tired and embarrassed that he just wanted the pond to consume him.

“Levi,” MC tutted. “You’re going to get struck by lightning.”

“Good.”

“Leviathan!”

MC’s sudden shout caused Levi to flail in the water for a brief moment before he was able to use his tail to stabilize himself as managed to tread water.

“Get out of the pond right now! The Lord of Shadows would never abandon Henry like this!”

“The Lord of Shadows is cool, I’m not…” Levi crossed his arms and sunk ever so slightly deeper into the water.

“What the hell are you talking about?” MC asked. “Did we watch the same show? The Lord of Shadows is a huge dork, like you, now get out of the pond so we can go home and not get struck by lightning.”

Defeated by the power of friendship/love/fandom brotherhood, Levi made his way back to shore and was given a quick whack to the back of the head.

“Ow!”

“That’s for being a sulky dummy!” MC then yanked Levi forward by the front of his shirt and kissed him. Levi nearly gasped and began to fanboy right then and there in the middle of the kiss. A rain kiss! A dramatic kiss in the rain! That was one of the best tropes ever! “And that, was for trying to take me on a sweet date.”

“M-marry me…” Levi whispered before he could stop himself. MC giggled and patted one of his now bright red cheeks.

“Maybe someday.”

Satan

Going on fun spontaneous dates really wasn’t Satan’s forte, he preferred a schedule, but both he and MC had the afternoon free and Satan didn’t feel like bumming around at home when the two of them could do that any other day.

Oh-so charmingly taking his beloved MC by the hand and leading them to the nearest cat-cafe was the first thing Satan could think to do. He loves cats, he loves MC, what could possibly ruin a nice afternoon with both?

When the two reached the cafe, they were met with an employee closing the place early, claiming that all the cats had actually gotten adopted and they were waiting for more rescues to come in.

Satan couldn’t decide whether to be upset about the lack of cats, or happy that the cats got adopted into loving homes like they deserved. Satan settled on being aggressively happy.

It was no big deal, there were other things they could do together, like go to a library, or bookstore, or a museum, the possibilities were endless!

Well, it would have been endless if it wasn’t for the world conspiring to make Satan loose his cool. First, the line for his favourite book store was looped around the block because of a new book release. Inconveniencing, sure, but nothing too awful, there was a nice park nearby, the two decided to relax on one of the benches.

Problem number two arose when some idiot threw a Fangol ball a little too far and it ended up hitting Satan, then bouncing off his head and hitting the tree that the bench was under, normally, this would be rude and annoying but nothing that would activate Satan’s volcanic temper, except for the tiny issue that there was a wasp nest in that tree that decided Satan’s drink was enemy #1.

After being stung approximately eight times in the hand, Satan wasn’t doing too good, MC could tell and offered to go to the doctor’s with him. As Satan led them out of the park and towards the sidewalk he assured MC that there was nothing to worry about…

But MC, holder of Satan’s heart, went to go get him ice anyway.

The third and final thing to make Satan blow his top, the rain… the cold… depressing… rain…

“Oh…” MC mumbled as they looked up at the rain, then at Satan, whose hands were balled into fists so tight that his palms began to bleed. “Satan are you-”

Completely silent, Satan strode toward a nearby dumpster and slammed his foot into the metal, sending the entire thing into the back of the dead-end alley. The entire dumpster practically compressed and folded in on itself from the sheer force of the kick.

“Do you want to go home?” MC asked gently, taking a few steps towards him, Satan slowly nodded.

“Y-yes. I think that’d be the smart thing to do.” Satan massaged his forehead and took the ice from MC. “It seems that spontaneity isn’t our strong suit as a couple.”

MC sighed and nodded. “Yeah, we should go back to planning this stuff beforehand, and… you know,” They gestured around the two of them. “check what’s open and what the weather’s going to be before we head out.”

Only MC could soothe Satan’s temper as quickly as it flared up, and MC was getting covered with rainwater. That just wouldn’t do. He turned to MC and offered them his jacket. “I don’t want you to get cold.”

“Isn’t your line supposed to be ‘here, take this, you might catch a cold’?” MC lightly teased as they took the jacket. “Like a classic romantic lead?”

Satan shook his head and laughed softly. “No, that’s a common misconception. You can’t actually get the common cold or flu from being out in the rain. The real danger is hypothermia or frostbite.”

“Ah,” MC looped their arm around Satan’s and held his non swollen hand. “So smart, tell me more about the dangers of hypothermia.”

“Don’t tease, dearest, or I’ll take back my jacket.”

Asmodeus

Asmo had just the most stressful day… and decided that he and his sweet MC just had to go on a nice date together to fix it!

Most dates with Asmo had a sort of three act structure, first they would coordinate their outfits together for the actual date activity, then they’d do whatever they set out to do, then they’d go home and either snuggle, or do the Devil’s tango, whichever MC was feeling up for.

But on this particular day, the three act structure was being ruined. It started with the outfit coordination, somehow everything Asmo had that would match with what MC was wearing was in the laundry, he had to be convinced by MC that this wasn’t that big of a deal and the two of them would look radiant whether they matched or not.

Since that was settled, Asmo and MC made their way to Asmo’s all time favourite spa, which was not closed, no no no, it was actively on fire.

“How… how did this happen?” “Well, there were a lot of candles burning in that place, I guess we’ll just have to save the spa trip for another date.”

Everyone was fine by the way

Oh well, it would take more than a raging inferno to ruin Asmo’s date, he was determined to have a good time, so he cheerily took MC’s hand and led them away from the fire. He also casually mentioned that being so close to danger was a total turn-on.

MC very quickly ended that comment with a kiss, Asmo can’t make inappropriate sex jokes when he’s kissing his favourite person. It was truly a testament to his complete and utter adoration of MC that Asmo was willing to share the top spot of his list of favourite people with them!

While on their merry way to find something else to do, Asmo’s fan club caught wind that he and MC were on a date and decided to make their appearance. Now Asmo’s groupies are normally very sweet, but they can also be incredibly unaware of boundaries.

Everywhere Asmo and MC looked, one or two of Asmo’s fans would be half hiding and half spying on how the date was going. It was common knowledge that Asmo x MC was the OTP of the entire club, and some of the members wanted to get a peak of their ship doing something romantic.

As much as Asmo loved attention, it was getting kind of… creepy. He began to usher MC away from certain areas and tried to find a suitably nice place to get away from prying eyes.

The pair ended up in this absolutely gorgeous public garden that was thankfully quite empty. Though, all it took was one awkward step with the kind of shoes he was wearing and Asmo fell straight into a rose bush.

MC had to quickly get to work kissing Asmo’s cut up face better before he started to cry and ruined his mascara. What was even worse was that the fall messed up Asmo’s shoe and he’d have to walk back to the house like an uncoordinated baby deer.

Everything was fine… just fine… no need to worry… everything was… cloudy…

The moment the first drop of rain landed in front of Asmo he stood completely stiff and still.

“Don’t.” He growled. “I just got my hair fixed.”

The rain didn’t listen, and began pouring down, absolutely drenching Asmo and MC in a matter of minutes. MC tried to pull Asmo towards an alcove or a covered patio so they could call a cab home, but the Avatar of Lust refused to move. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, smiled serenely to himself, then looked back up to the sky and screamed with the hatred of a thousand suns:

“FUCK YOU TOO FATHER!”

It was quite a scene for MC to witness, Asmo rarely fully lost his cool, especially not enough to swear like an ‘uncouth barbarian’, combine that with his running mascara, scratched up face, and dirty clothes, he looked more like a feral movie star that was just rescued from the woods than the solid ten out of ten MC normally knew him as.

“Momo?” MC gently patted his back. “Come on, we should go home.”

Asmo finally turned to look at his sweet MC, the poor thing shouldn’t have seen him act like this… the day had gone completely horribly and he just had to drag MC into this, didn’t he? He felt his heart drop right into his gut as he practically collapsed into his human’s arms.

“Oh MC, I’m so sorry I dragged you out today… we should have just stayed home…”

“Asmo,” MC weighed their options, before settling on just rubbing his back. “There there.”

The awkward sniffling and snorting continued for the next couple of minutes while MC called a ride service to come pick the two of them up.

“Thank you, MC,” Asmo sniffled. “You’re the sweetest thing in the universe…”

“You’re sweet too, Asmo. It’s a shame today didn’t work out.”

“Mhm…”

“We can still save this date, you know? When we get back home we can take a bath and snuggle.”

“That…” Asmo sniffed. “That sounds really nice, MC.”

“Anytime spent with you is nice, Asmo.” MC then rolled their eyes while Asmo giggled. “Man that was corny…”

Beelzebub

Beel had come back from one hell of a Fangol game, and he was in an amazing mood! He wanted to take MC out to celebrate!

Between-meal snacks were packed, and they set off to the carnival. Nothing could beat the nice smell of fried dough, Carmel apples, popcorn, and spending time with MC.

Of course, the food wasn’t the only thing Beel wanted to enjoy with MC, there were rides and games to try while they enjoyed their snacks. First they made their way to the teacup ride.

In theory, having big strong Beel to spin the big wheel in the middle to make the teacup move would be a good thing, but even though it was the first ride, MC had eaten quite a lot of carnival snacks.

Beel only had to spin the centre disc once for the disc to both break and make the teacup to whirl around at a speed that practically threw them into Beel’s side. MC then… well… vomited. Everywhere.

Since Beel accidentally ripped the centre disc off, he couldn’t slow the teacup down manually to stop the puke-tornado, so it took a little while before the ride operator realized that something was wrong and stopped the ride.

The walk off the ride was both embarrassing and completely nauseating, MC needed to stumble to the nearest trashcan and hurl. Beel did his best to comfort his poor human and mumbled quite a lot of apologies.

“I’m sorry MC…” “Beel, it’s okay… I’d uh, kiss you but the… vomit.”

Both Beel and MC decreed that maybe rides weren’t the best idea after that, and went over to check out the carnival games.

After a few unsuccessful tries at a few games, a plushie caught MC’s eye and they were absolutely smitten with it. Beel vowed to win it for them, and lined himself up to try the pitching game.

Well, something good came out of that… Beel threw so fast it may have broken a record, the bad thing was that the ball tore through the tent and caused the whole thing to collapse.

The tent then caught fire after landing on some of the candles that were set up… the plushie went up in flames…

Beel turned to MC, who wordlessly patted him on the back. At… at least they still had their snacks…

As Beel and MC made their way to the exit, a group of kids rushed past the pair, Beel, not wanting to step on or bump into any of them, awkwardly wobbled, then fell and dropped all of his emergency snacks.

And then came the rain…

“Oh…” Beel mumbled as he stared down his spilled food, MC quickly wrapped their arms around him, looking up at him with a half-hearted smile.

“We can buy some more, or wait until we get home, it’s okay, Beel.”

The Avatar of Gluttony slowly nodded, tearing his gaze away from the wasted snacks. Thunder sounded above the two and the cold rain began to beat against them.

When Beel looked down at MC, he felt his heart flutter in his chest, they weren’t upset at him, they weren’t angry… they just wanted to make him feel better… Beel nodded resolutely to himself, he was going to make MC feel better too! He picked MC up bridal-style and began to walk away from the rapidly emptying carnival.

“B-Beel?” MC sputtered.

“Let’s go home, MC, I have cookies hidden in one of the cabinets that we can share.”

MC looked up at their sweet cinnamon roll, then buried their face in his chest. Their shoulders shook slightly as they looped their arms around Beel’s neck.

“M-MC?” Beel asked, he tried to shift MC in his arms to see if they were crying, but MC looked up at him with a sweet smile.

“You’re just the best, Beel. Never forget that.”

Belphegor

The Avatar of Sloth doesn’t exactly “do” traditional dates, but even he could tell that MC wanted to do something a little more exciting than “lay in bed and make out until Belphie falls asleep”.

Since Belphie is a totally wonderful brat boyfriend, he decided to take MC out to the best possible place in the human world for some stargazing… and napping.

He even put together a picnic basket so he and MC could eat while watching the sunset before the stars came out!

The favourite blanket was packed, the picnic basket was ready, and Lucifer gave the two permission to visit the human world for the evening. Belphie took a mental note to avoid doing any pranks for a week as a thank-you to his older brother.

Well, the first problem came when the two spread out the blanket and opened up the basket to find… nothing. Belphie immediately thought that Beel must have eaten their food, but then the memory of the food clearly sitting in the fridge entered his mind. He had forgotten to put the food in the basket… and he was too lazy to check why the basket was so light…

Oh well… no big deal, MC had a big lunch. The second problem came in the form of a swarm of mosquitoes. Gross, bloodsucking mosquitos.

“MC?” “Yeah?” “Did you happen to pack bug spray before I took you out on this surprise picnic?” “No…”

Belphie’s solution was to use his tail to bat the bugs away, but that proved to be quite useless. It didn’t help that while both MC and Belphie were being eaten alive, Belphie would end up accidentally thwacking MC with his tail.

Well, at least the sunset was nice, or it would have been if Belphie hadn’t slept through it by accident.

It was classic Belphie to manage to sleep through anything interesting, and apparently he also missed out on a shooting star which soured his mood even more.

The only little bright spot of the date so far was that MC did say that they wished for something for him on that shooting star… hopefully wish magic might salvage the date…

After being awoken by MC to look up at the sky, the two realized that something was… missing. Where were the stars?

MC and Belphie were laying on their backs facing the clouded over sky when they both had the dawning realization of what was to come.

Rain.

Of course… mosquitoes are extra active and crazy before a storm… that’s why they were coming at them…

Belphie let out a dejected sigh as the first raindrop of many hit the tip of his nose. MC scratched at their arms and began to pack up the blanket into the empty picnic basket. At least the blanket wouldn’t get too wet.

Well, he fucked this up royally. The Avatar of Sloth almost never put any actual work into something that didn’t benefit himself, but MC had managed to make themselves the exception. He wanted to make them happy, he wanted to see that cute little face they made when he’d crack a joke or make a quip about something, but now, lying flat on his back staring up at a coming rainstorm, Belphie had come to the crippling realization that all his work went to waste.

“You know, MC, the outdoors is going to lose my patronage.” Belphie murmured, blinking a few raindrops out of his eyes as the rain began to patter down with more ferocity. “I think the two of us should stick to indoor dates.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” MC sighed as they used the picnic basket as a makeshift umbrella.

“I’m um…” Belphie began, guilt twisting in his gut. “I’m sorry this turned out so shitty.”

“It’s okay, Belphie.” MC pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “If by some miracle the food that was supposed to be in the fridge hasn’t gotten eaten by the time we get back home, we’ll eat a late dinner, cuddle, and then sleep till noon.”

[yesimwriting]

Hi!!! I was wondering if you could do like a short story post or something I wonder how Our General Kirigan would react to a shy reader? Would he tease her? Be frustrated with her? And how would she react? Idk maybe just a thought 😅 I asked you because i really like your writing and I feel like you would really do a good job and I like the way you portray the General. ����

a/n i have been crying/feeling shitty for the past two days for no reason!! so i thought it might make me feel better to try writing headcanons! i have SO MANY half done requests/fics but as of recently i hate everything that i write!! so i thought i'd work on this request that lends itself to headcanons

also im glad you like my writing :))

--

General Kirigan with a shy! reader headcanons:

- First things first, I think how he interacts with someone shy that he sees as a (potential) romantic interest varies per situation. Like generally, he finds the timidness kind of soft which is so different from what he's used to that he finds that aspect kind of endearing.

- He'd never admit that at the beginning, but the more time you spend with him the clearer it becomes to you because of how he acts when you're alone together

- At first, he'd hold onto his usual stoic disposition, but after realizing that at the end of the day your shyness is genuine and not an attempt to seem meek in order to trick people/him he'd begin to tease you about it when you two are alone.

- The first time he makes a comment that's just a little,, kinda-almost suggestive (a comment about how he wonders what it'd be like to be a Heartrender so that he could hear the change in your heartbeat every time you shied away from something) you're too confused to be embarrassed for like two seconds.

- You're basically that meme that's like did I hear that shit righttt??

- So you meet his gaze, and there's absolutely nothing but warm confidence there and you realize that he had in fact,,, said that.

- You hold his gaze for a moment out of protest (which is an incredible feat) and then you have to drop your eyes to the floor. You mumble some comment about how his ability to summon shadows isn't exactly a boring skill.

- Your reaction is so soft,, Kirigan can't help but be endeared even further. Something he wasn't exactly expecting and isn't too thrilled about. He doesn't think being shy makes you weak,, but he's extremely wary about how you're perceived and how people may treat you because of it.

- He doesn't doubt his ability to protect you, but he doesn't want to be distracted,, not with all he has to do.

- Still, he can't help mumble comments whenever there's a brief pause and you two are alone

- Meanwhile, you're starting to notice that now more situations keep coming up when you're left alone with Kirigan?? like he's always in the library when you are, he's always walking in to assess training when you're training and he just so happens to linger until you leave and then he just so happens needs to walk in the same hallway.

- It's a little strange at first,, but you're more horrified by the fact that you're not mad about it than the fact that it's happening. Especially since you know how much joy he gets from getting you flustered. You can see that in that slightly cocky uptilt to his lips whenever you're left gaping at him.

- Why doesn't it bother you?? You try to rationalize it and the only conclusion you can come to is the fact that he's attractive and powerful and even though your face gets hot whenever he talks to you,, there's appeal in those qualities. There's appeal in getting the infamous General to smile.

- Even if it costs you the bit of pride you have.

- You don't get why you're the one he seems to be going out of his way to speak to (maybe when your life is as stressful as his is,, at the end of the day you just want something easy and if he's in the mood to be flirty, you're easy) but you're not mad. You just have to constantly remind yourself to not be foolish enough to think you're the only one he goes out of his way to talk to.

- And as time progresses, you get a little more comfortable with his banter. You stop shying away completely,, which only encourages him to get bolder with his comments.

- Nothing insane,, not yet, just a little more direct.

- It kind of becomes a little game to him,, to see how flustered he can get you with the minimal amount of effort. Every once in awhile, you manage to act normally, but he's quick to shut that down by upping his game just slightly.

- After awhile, it starts to become a game for you too, to see how much of your instincts you can suppress just to take away some of his satisfaction. Only when he's getting a little too smug.

- But that's when y'all are alone...

- When you're surrounded by others, sometimes it feels like you don't even exist to each other. Sometimes that's a lonely feeling for both of you, but each of you is convinced that they're the only one that feels the absence.

- In your defense, you're much more entitled to those feelings because he can literally do whatever he wants. You can't just walk up to the General and do what?? ask him why he hasn't made any suggestive comment in the last couple of hours??

- please that embarrassing!! even if you weren't shy, that would be out of POCKET

- Meanwhile Kirigan is just like being angsty and debating the implications of seeking you out in an environment with so many important people. He could probably manage a minute or two by your side without making anyone suspicious, but the danger in that is that he won't be able to bring himself to leave after those minutes pass him.

- Worse,, he may even find an excuse for both of you to step out into the hall so that he can make his comments and take in your reactions in private.

- It's especially difficult when you have that one strand of hair just slightly out of place,, presenting the perfect excuse for him to just fix it and then drop his hand slowly so that his fingertips can brush the side of your cheek.

- And you're growing tired of the crowds of people you're not comfortable with and you're starting to feel more and more stupid for letting something that was so clearly just a playful distraction mean anything to you.

- But before either of you can succumb to your angsty pinning (cough, cough,, simps) his eyes will find yours from across the room and that's EVERYTHING

- At first, you want to be stiff and look away because it's probably not intentional, but then he gives you that little smirk. And then you feel stupid for ever doubting that you two at least have some kind of friendship. (maybe more,, but you're too scared to let yourself think that,, ;))

- And then you give him this shy smile,, and that's it. He's done--that one look undoes him entirely.

- So he starts shifting towards you as casually as possible, because if he can't be with you right now, surely being near you is good enough for now.

- You're unaware of this,, and when the moment ends you find yourself longing for more, but relatively satisfied. You don't expect anything from him, he's important and you're you.

- And being around people drains you because you genuinely want to stay out of any situation that would have too much attention on you at once. So once Kirigan moves and you can't find him in the crowd, you decide now is as good a time as any to step out and get some air, especially since no one currently needs you for anything.

- So you disappear into the corridor, planning to be gone only for a few minutes. But the second you're about two steps into the hallway, you hear another's footsteps.

- The hopeful part of you is like 'maybe it's him!!' but you don't really think that. There's something about the atmosphere that feels too tense,, too wrong for you to believe it's him.

- A moment later, your suspicions are confirmed. A grisha known for his impulsiveness is calling out to you, asking you where you're going.

- You explain that you just wanted to get some air and that you'd be returning in a minute. You try to sound dismissive, clearly establishing that you'd like your minute to yourself.

- It's clear that he understands the hint, but he doesn't move. He just keeps asking you questions.

- Your answers get shorter and shorter, the nerves your feeling tensing with each word as he begins to venture from falsely casual conversation to more flirtatious words. Being shy can leave you speaking too much, spluttering out words in hopes of saying the right thing to let you escape, but this is a different type of nervousness. Something feels wrong.

- And he just keeps saying things, things that even Kirigan wouldn't be able to get away with.

- All the while, you're desperate to escape, but they're persistent.

- And just when you're losing hope, and his advances get so bold he has you literally backed into a corner--a familiar voice comes to you like a lifeline.

- Kirigan, with all the authority of the general, questions what's going on. The guy that was so relentlessly hitting on you moves back like suddenly you're fire and begins to back away. He tries to explain himself but Kirigan is not having it.

- As soon as the stranger leaves, you feel like you can breathe again, but your nerves are still on edge. Kirigan's looking at you in a way you've never seen before. Sharp and almost--almost angry?

- You try to mumble a quick thanks, intending to disappear back to where you're supposed to be, but Kirigan's gaze keeps you planted against the wall.

- His gaze is so intense you ask him if he's alright.

- The question cracks something in him because of course you'd ask him if he's okay after something happened to you. His expression softens slightly, which you think is a good thing but then he speaks,, and his voice is not calm at all

- He's mad at the person that did that and the irrational part of him makes it seem like he's a little mad at you for letting that situation happen, but it's only because he's worried about what would have happened if he hadn't gotten there in time.

- And you're kind of confused because like?? what does he want from you? you made it clear you were uncomfortable and you were trying to get away?

- But after a quick snap and the fact that you're okay settles in,, he does feel a little bad. So he comes close to apologizing,, but that's basically just him saying he's glad that you're okay.

- You don't really ease, so he decides to make a partial joke about how maybe he needs to be around you more,, just to be safe,, you know

- And you smile slightly, and you're like 'y'know i'm not completely helpless.'

- and he's like 'pity,, i would've liked the excuse'

- your face instantly feels extremely warm and you're not sure what you could even, plausibly say to that. But you can't let him have the last word,, not like that. So you're overcompensating, rambling, but then at the end...you say something about how he doesn't really need an excuse to stay near you.

- When you realize what you've said, fight or flight kicks in,, but you can't move. And there's no casual way to escape, so you decide that maybe you'll cut your losses for today because that might have been your most significant reply to him ever, and you feel like an idiot because he was probably joking. And you just had to say that and make it weird.

- So you allow exactly one second of unfortunate silence, your eyes glued to the ground. And then you make some excuse about needing to get back to where you were.

- But Kirigan stops you, and you think about how you can't avoid looking him in the eyes forever, so you just kind of barely dare to glance upwards.

- And he's smiling broader than usual, the look is so warm it melts away all the bad feelings from earlier. You have absolutely no idea what it means, but you know it's not...bad.

- And then he shifts slightly, and that's when you realize he's never been this close before.

- He then asks if you're sure, voice much lower than earlier.

- You can't speak,, too trapped on a line you don't understand.

- But as he leans forward, the only answer he needs is the instinctual part of your lips as his warm breath reaches your cheek.

- And with that he turns his head just a fraction of an inch,, and his lips meet yours.

- It's just a quick brush of lips,, a soft test. And when you don't protest, he moves to let the contact be a little more assured, yet still teasing.

- Something in you grows impatient, and you move a little in hopes that he'll take the hint.

- But that's all it takes for him to pull away, expression bright and teasing before playfully chiding you for being so eager.

- He then turns, leaving you more flustered than ever.

[catboyantichrist]

Hi there! Can you please do relationship headcanons of a gender neutral MC with autism and ADHD dating the seven brothers? I’d love to see more positive writing of a neurodivergent MC and how each of the brothers would love and respect them regardless of their disabilities. Feel free to do this if you want to. If not, that’s ok! Have a great day! 😁👍🌷🌹🌺🌸🌼🌻🌷🌹🌻🌼🌸🌺

This ask literally made me squeal- my neurodivergent ass is gonna have way too much fun with this- LMAO Just a warning, I'm basing this mainly off of my personal experiences (I have ADHD and am possibly getting tested for atypical autism in the future.). Ill try to be as broad as possible but I'd just like to give a heads up.

Just know that if you don't relate to this post or something in it, that doesn't mean you aren't valid! Everyone experiences neurodivergencey differently ^^

☆The Brothers Dating A GN!MC With Autism & ADHD☆

Day-to-day life has always been a struggle. As it feels like no human truly understands why you function the way you do. From bosses, to teachers, to neurotypical friends. Life can feel draining and like a chore when you're living in a world that doesn't function the way you do.

Then your world literally changes. You're in the devildom now. Most people would be terrified that they're living in a house full of demons. But you weren't. You felt like you finally belonged, and eventually you finally found love. Something that people assumed you'd never be able to find. Well jokes on them because your lover treats you with so much respect and kindness, and of course you do the same. This is some of what your lover does that just makes your heart spin:

Lucifer:

-Much to your dismay, before Lucifer started to get to know you he was similar to the humans you've encountered in the past. This doesn't last long though as one of the brothers (most likely Leviathan or Mammon) try to explain. He begins to go a bit easier on you, and also falls for you.

-When you guys start dating, he makes it his goal to help make your day-to-day life easier. Dare I say, he takes pride in it. (Hahahah aren't I funny?)

-He notices how you need a schedule to function, but how much you hate schedules. So with your permission, he makes a loose schedule and follows it WITH you. It simultaneously helps you function more than usual, and it helps Lucifer take breaks when he needs to.

-You two begin to do everything together, as doing stuff together and holding each other accountable is a lot easier than doing it alone

-If someone ever dares to make a rude comment about you Lucifer will um... "take care of them".

-If you ever get overstimulated from the environment you're in, Lucifer keeps his office wide open as a quiet place for you. He keeps a weighted blanket, some headphones and any stim toys you usually use in a corner of his office. If you're not comfortable with them out in the open he'll keep them in a special box somewhere in his office that others can't get into.

Mammon:

-Executive Dysfunction gang! The both of you are relieved that you understand each other and some dumbass wont just go "jUsT gEt Up aNd dO iT!"

-If you guys are struggling with it at different times, you'll try to help each other do small tasks that require very limited effort so that one of you don't get overwhelmed and stressed out. If its a particularly difficult day, you'll just stay there to support the other if they want that.

-If both of you are struggling that day, you do nothing ✨together✨ and just vibe with each others company.

-This man brings you shiny things. They don't even have to be worth anything, they're just shiny. You proceed to do the same. You two now have a designated spot for shiny things you bring each other. If you have an interest in art, you and him will probably end up using the shiny objects as art projects.

-A LOT of impulse shopping. You guys enable each other. Although you quickly realize that you impulse shop for each other. Every second day you end up bringing each other gifts and laughing about it after.

Leviathan:

-Y'know that arm thing two neurodivergent people do when they find out that the other person is neurodivergent? Yeah you two did that. And still continue to do that. It's your greeting now.

-You two spend tons of time either cuddling and talking about your special interests together, or both of you are pacing around Levi's room talking about your special interests together.

-And if you end up having the same special interest?? Oh man the serotonin you two both get just being AROUND each other.

-If you have a hard time around tons of people (in general or just at certain times) he's more than willing to share his room with you and for you two to do online school together. I mean hey, doing school by yourself online is difficult. (Even if it's more comfortable for you both)

-Will he get you a matching pair of noise cancelling headphones if you have auditory sensory issues, or if you just like the pressure on your head. (I don't know if that's a neurodivergent thing but I will wear my headphones just so that I feel some sort of pressure on my head)

-You both communicate what you need, and whether you need alone time or not. Making sure not to trigger any form of rejection sensitivity dysphoria for eachother.

Satan:

-If you were one of those neurodivergent kids that spent all of their time in the library, going through books like wildfire in middle school, get ready for that to be reignited.

-You two will read together all the time, and if you're having a day where you're more fidgety and don't wanna stay still, Satan is more than happy reading to you while you pace around.

-Satan has a natural curiosity, and loves to learn about anything that he doesn't already know about. So if you have a special interest about your own neurodivergency, he is more than happy to listen to you ramble about your life experiences and symptoms.

-Honestly, it doesn't even have to be about neurodivergency, Satan is happy to listen and learn about anything you're interested currently.

-If you aren't big on physical affection from humans or, well... humanoid people, that's perfectly fine! That's what animals are for! He'll take you to a cat cafe and will enjoy spending time with the animals with you.

-Similar to Lucifer, if anyone makes a comment about the way you act, they wont live to see another day. Unlike Lucifer, the demons who say these comments don't even finish their sentence. They're dead before MC blinks.

Asmodeus:

-When Asmodeus finds out that you have sensory issues that affect what you wear, he decides to hand-make clothes with fabrics of your choice. He has no issue with you prioritizing comfort over appearance, but if you want to put effort into your appearance and texture is stopping you, he's more than happy to design some stuff for you.

-Asmodeus has always been a touchy person, but if you aren't comfortable with that he'd never force you to cuddle. If you are interested in physical affection one of his favourite things to do is put makeup on your face, or just touch your face.

-Speaking of which, if you ever impulsively cut your hair whether it be from breakdown, normal impulsivity, or sensory issues with your hair being longer. He'll always help you cut your hair. He wants to make sure that once you cut it, you wont regret it the next day.

-Depending on whether you like going outside or not (or if its depending on the day) he's more than happy to take you to the fall! He'll make sure you're always comfortable and if you need the attention diverted from you if you need a break!

-If you don't like going outside, Asmo will dedicate certain nights for just you two to hang out. He can always energy match you. Hyperactive? Oh he's right there with you bouncing of the walls. Calmer? He doesn't mind just vibing with you. Comfort? Oh you've come to the right guy.

-Asmodeus is very emotionally intelligent, it may have originally been for the wrong purposes (charming others) but now he can use it to help you work through issues with socializing with others, past traumas from other people, he'll always do his best to support you as long as you'd do the same for him!

Beelzebub:

-Beel is always well meaning, but whether you're neurodivergent or neurotypical, communication is key with him. So, if you're unintentionally blunt to neurotypical people, that's exactly what Beel needs and wants. He knows you don't mean it out of harm, you're just trying to state your boundaries.

-Do you need a weighted blanket? This man will become the weighted blanket. He wants to make sure you're comfortable at all times!

-If you have trouble eating, Beel is here to help. If you take meds for ADHD and they make you lose your appetite, or just general forgetfulness, he'll remind you to have at least some sort of small snack throughout the day. Nothing too filling, just enough so that you aren't running on zero food throughout the day.

-All the go-to and comfort foods that you had in the human world? Beel would make it his MISSION to get them, and TONS of it too. It's the only food in the house he wont eat because he knows how important it is to you. He will tear up a bit if you offer to share though.

-If you're in a hyperactive mood, or anxious, Beel will convince you to do some light exercise with him to help calm you down

Belphegor:

-If you have trouble sleeping, Belphie will definitely try and help. Ranging from cuddling, aroma therapy, getting Beel to do exercise with you. To more magical means (if you're comfortable with it) like sleeping powder.

-If you just have a different internal clock than the average person, that's fine too! It may be permanent but that's okay- Belphie will sleep at any time with you.

-Isn't generally a social person so if you're not that big of a fan of social interaction you don't have to worry. Belphie would even do online school with you!

-He would let you use his pillows and blankets to stim if that's something you're interested in. He'd also listen to you ramble about your interests while doing so! As long as you don't mind him talking about the stars afterwards.

-Definitely the most blunt out of his brothers, so communication wouldn't be an issue between you two. If his bluntness is a bit too harsh for you he'll try to tone it down a bit, but it would probably just end up as him trying to explain the reasoning behind the bluntness and how it's not out of harm.

[darthmaulification]

savage opress NSFW alphabet

A/N: finally! i got this finished!!

*pounds chest* me love big zabrak man!!! and i am in 100% support for soft!savage so y’all are gonna see a ton of that here. 💀 

also, i had to do so much mental math with this one because savage is so darn tootin’ tall (7ft 1in, from what i’ve read) that relating his you-know-what’s size relative to him was ✨challenging✨ but also 😳🥴🥵💦 if ya know what i mean.

and i mention the maul nsfw alphabet i wrote a couple of times in here, so go check that one out for more clarification on a few points if you feel so inclined. 😊💕

nfsw below the cut! 😘

A = aftercare (what are they like after sex?)

Savage is always a bit unsure of himself in how he cares for others, but his aftercare is immaculate. Every time, there’s this brief window of Post Coital Cuddles where he just holds you in his arms and purrs like there’s no tomorrow, and I mean like near full body vibrations, he’s purring so damn hard and loud. More often than not, this is usually the part where Savage passes out, usually he’s too darn sleepy to finish the rest of the aftercare. However, if he does manage to keep his eyes moment for a few minutes longer, Savage kisses you all over, asks you what you need, and will get the job done in the most tender and sweet way possible.

B = body part (what’s their favorite body part of their partner? what about themselves?)

Savage is a sap and would say that all of you is his favorite, and honestly mean it. He thinks that you and your body are nothing but perfect, all of it. He’ll compliment you with the utmost sincerity, telling you just how beautiful you are whenever and wherever. Savage loves to look at you, to feel you, to worship you. He enjoys all of the squishier parts of you especially, whether that be your thighs, tummy, ass, breasts, etc etc. He loves that you’re so soft compared to him.

However, for as much as he’s able to see the beauty in others, Savage has trouble seeing the beauty in himself. He feels like a monster most of the time, feels like he’s been deformed by his enhancements. It’s not easy for him to choose a favorite part of his body, because he honestly doesn’t like his body. So, you’ll have to coax him into learning to love himself, which isn’t and won’t be easy, but Savage needs to learn that he is allowed and has earned the right to treat himself with love. This will lead to whatever your favorite part of him to be his favorite, whatever that may be.

C = cum (basically anything to do with cum)

Savage cums buckets. Like... an ungodly amount of nut. It’s thick, white, and Maker, it is virile. His sperm count is off the fucking charts, and he knows it. Savage makes sure to cum inside you every time, unless you specifically ask him not to. He pushes balls deep, up to the hilt, and lets loose inside you, absolutely coating your walls in sticky, creamy white. It’s usually so much that the moment he pulls out, it literally spills out of you, and something about that sight has Savage genuinely horny all over again. If it’s okay with you, because he always asks before he does anything, Savage will push it back in with a couple fingers.

D = dirty secret (what’s their dirty secret?)

... Okay, so be nice to him... Savage has a Mommy kink. It’s nothing too crazy, but it’s definitely there. He wants to call you to Mommy, listen to everything you say and tell him to do, be your “Good boy”. Honestly, it’s enough if you just call him the name, if you’re not comfortable with the title, and if you’re his gentle femdom (he would literally worship you). 

Thing is, he might never tell you this because it embarrasses him beyond belief, like cripplingly embarrassing, and he doesn’t know how you’ll react if he told you.

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

To be honest, Savage has had no experience. Mostly, it’s because he was raised in an environment where he was taught that his purpose in life was only fighting, so he was never given/had the opportunity of sex. He never had the chance to explore that avenue with another person, because there was no one to explore it with and he was being trained half to death most of the time. Of course, he’s picked up things throughout his life from others, so he’s not clueless and has a semi-idea of how to please someone. So when you and him do the do for the first time, Savage is unsure of himself, a bit clumsy, and kinda self-deprecating. You’ll need to talk to him, tell him that he’s welcome to your body and that you want him, and walk him through some of the actions. So while your first time with Savage may be a bit... disorganized to put it gently, it is also so full of mutual love and respect and care that it is perfect.

And, fortunately for you and him, Savage is a very quick learner.

F = favorite position (what’s their favorite position?)

Savage is a big guy and he knows this, so most of the positions you and him have to take is honestly a lot more for your safety than anything else. Especially at the beginning, Savage will want to be as safe as possible, so it’s most likely going to involve you on top of him, but as he gets more confident in his abilities, he’ll be more open to topping you. When it gets to that point of mutual trust, his favorite positions include:

Missionary. This position is just super personal and intimate for him. It allows Savage to see your every reaction, every gasp and moan you let out. He likes being face-to-face with you, being able to kiss you all over the whole time is especially important to him. Savage also likes missionary for being able to indulge on his size kink a bit, seeing you small and beneath him with his dick bulging inside you makes him so horny.

Cowgirl. Savage loves it when you ride him! He loves being able to watch you bounce on his dick, watching your breasts and anywhere else soft jiggle, being able to feel you up. Savage also likes when you top, being under you is just as nice as being above you (though he will admit the view from below is something real special).

G = goofy (are they the more serious type, or more humorous?)

Savage isn’t goofy, but he also isn’t serious. He doesn’t do a whole lot of teasing, preferring to give you exactly what you ask of him, but he isn’t so stoic as to be overly focused. He is in that warm middleground where he’s just an utter sap, just making sure he’s doing the best job he can just for you.

Sometimes though, if Savage is in a particularly playful mood, and especially if you both are, he’ll have you smiling and giggling from silly antics that he’ll do to please you. One of his go-to’s is flirtatiously flexing his muscles for you, which is a very nice sight.

H = hair (how well-groomed are they?)

Like I mentioned in my Maul NSFW alphabet, male Zabrak don’t have hair anywhere on their bodies. So Savage is completely smooth below the belt. He also doesn’t have a preference towards the hair you do or don’t have, Savage believes it isn’t his place to tell you what to do with your body.

I = intimacy ( how intimate are they during sex?)

Very. Savage has never been as close to someone as he is with you, so he wears his heart on his sleeve. Sex with Savage is overwhelming in its kindness, he indulges on the closeness that he’s never really had before with another person in this way. Savage practically melts into your arms, wanting so badly to show you how much he adores you, he opens his very soul to you. Intimacy, despite his cold upbringing, comes naturally to him, if not a bit surprising, but Savage wouldn’t have it any other way.

J = jack off (do they masturbate?)

Mm... not really, to be honest. He did “more” in his youth, when he could, but even then it was very secretive and few and far between. So yeah, Savage has indulged in the pleasures of the flesh, but he really doesn’t find the time nor motivation to yank it. Especially with you in his life, Savage is set.

K = kinks (any kinks?)

Savage does indeed have quite a few kinks, but he’s also a bit sheepish about them. He’ll tell you if you ask, but he’ll get all fidgety and awkward, so please be nice to him. Here’s his main ones:

Size kink. Savage is often self-conscious about his daunting height and bulk, but if there’s one area where he’s not, it’d be when he’s balls deep inside you, watching your pussy stretch to accommodate his length and the bulge that appears under your tummy. Something about it drives him near feral and makes him weak in the knees. He also loves how big his hands look as the travel your body, engulfing your skin with his palms and splayed fingers.

Breeding/pregnancy kink. He’s always liked kids, he would like kids with you, so Savage has a near crippling breeding kink. There isn’t a day where he doesn’t think about fucking you full of his seed and starting a family with you. He wants it so badly, to see you pregnant with his child, but he isn’t sure how to raise it to you. So, it’ll be a lot of very specific dirty talk and passing comments until he finally gathers the courage to tell you that he really really wants kids (and seeing you swollen with his baby and milk is just a bonus).

Praise kink. Savage loves to give praise and he loves to receive it! He’ll be complimenting and encouraging you the whole time, telling you how sexy your body is, how pretty you are to look at, how soft you are, how much he loves you, etc etc. His mouth gives only the most sincere, loving praise that’ll have you holding back tears with how kind it is. And if you say nice things back??? Savage is putty in your hands. Words cannot describe how much it means to him if you tell him how good he’s making you feel, how he’s doing so well, that he’s also sexy and that you love his body... or if you call him a “Good boy”.

Predator/prey. Despite his overall kind decorum, Savage really has a predator/prey kink, like more so than Maul, which is saying something. He really likes a good chase before doing the do, gets the blood pumping to all the right places. And while he never wants you scared of him, he does toy around and give you a good spook during the hunt to catch you off guard. Savage enjoys the startled shrieks that he’s able to smother with kisses until he has you panting and giggling.

Scent kink. Honestly, this is his Monkey Brain Zabrak mind rearing it’s head. Savage really just likes sniffing you all over, taking in your scent and committing it to memory. He especially loves smelling your hair and, more vulgarly, your pussy. To him, the aroma that is you is something he gets drunk on.

L = location (favorite place to “do the do”?)

Savage is most comfortable and secure in the bedroom, but that doesn’t mean it’s his favorite. He finds (after a while, of course, and gaining more experience) that he really really likes to fuck in the precarious spot that is the fucking throne room. It’s scandalous and dirty and bold, especially for Savage, but Maker, if he doesn’t love dragging you there in the dead of night and rawing you behind the throne.

M = motivation (what gets them turned on?)

There are two sure fire ways to get Savage hard in his pants that are completely opposite. One, Savage has a thing for you playing all cute with him. If you give him puppy dog eyes and act coy and helpless and needy, he’s on you as soon as he can be. Two, you act bold. Savage will get hot around the collar if you get get firm with him in public and whisper to him exactly what you want. He finds it very hard to say no to you if you give him such a compelling order.

N = NO (what’s their turn offs?)

Sadism. Savage just can’t do it. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you. He ties pain to the bouts of frustrated rage he’s prone to, pain that he inflicts on others that really hurt, or even kill them. Savage gets nightmares about laying his hands on you like that.

Also, Savage would not like being physically restrained in any way. That is a huge turn off for him, because it makes a lot of bad memories bubble to the surface.

O = oral (do they have a preference in giving/receiving?)

Savage wants nothing more than to eat you out. From the first time he ever tasted you, he was hooked. He’s addicted to your unique taste, sweet and perfect on his tongue, your warm, velvety pussy, that cute clit. Savage would spend hours with his head between your legs, mindful of his horns, if he could. He’ll lap at you like a dog, licking and kissing like he’s savoring a fine wine. Savage will have you cumming over and over again until your sobbing for him to stop.

His love for giving head honestly impedes his love for receiving head. He likes it when you do, mostly because it amuses and arouses him to see you struggle to take as much of him as you can, but it just doesn’t compare to eating you like a dessert. But if you do wish to go down on him, feel free to. Savage loves to see your tiny mouth work on his massive cock.

P = pace & PDA (are they soft, sensual, rough, or feral? are they open to displaying the relationship?)

SOFTIE ALERT SOFTIE ALERT!! Savage is so fucking sweet when he fucks because he puts so much thought and energy into it, he is the definition of making love. Savage fucks you hard and intensely, but it’s so careful and generous, because he doesn’t want to hurt you and just wants to treat you right. Savage literally could be blowing out your back, but it still feels like he’s worshipping your body like he’s at a temple.

Now PDA... Savage blushes if you hold his hand. He’s fairly alright with displaying the relationship, but if you do he’s a flustered, lovesick mess. He likes having a hand on you, especially holding yours, but if he has one on your lower back, he’s so awkward and sweet about it, but deep down it makes him feel really proud. Like, no one else gets to say that your his, and that has him so happy! PDA with Savage may be small, but it’s very cute.

Though if you kiss him in public, his brain shuts down and he swoons.

Q = quickies (what’s their opinion on quickies?)

Yes. Once you two have been at it for a while, Savage grows more and more fond of the appeal of quickies. He likes a good, quick release, though it doesn’t compare to having hours alone with you, but it’s fun nonetheless. Savage will most likely seek a quickie from you if there’s a lull in the day, when his and your schedules slow down enough to run back to your bedroom all giggly and flirty just to go a quick round or two.

R = risks (are they okay with experimenting? do they take risks?)

Savage is so-so on experimenting. He’s very nervous about trying stuff that’s a bit more... drastic, so it’ll really depend on what you’re asking him to try. Though, if you coax him just enough and assure him that your with him on this, Savage will be a bit more sure of the situation and more likely to try stuff out.

As for taking risks though, like genuine risks, the only one he kinda allows himself is that rare throne room fuck that happens once in a blue moon when the climate’s right for it. Other than that, Savage doesn’t like doing too much risky stuff in the bedroom.

S = stamina (how many rounds can they last?)

A damn long time. Maybe it’s because he’s Zabrak, or maybe it’s because of his enhancements, but Savage has stamina for days. He’s easily able to last 4-5 rounds before his cock starts to protest, but even then he’ll push himself if you ask him to (though you probably will be too far gone by that point). Savage makes you cockdumb nearly every time you have sex, simply because he can just keep fucking. Like his dick stays hard even through the refractory period, and he stays just horny from when it all started. Savage, though he is embarrassed to admit this, is insatiable.

T = toys (do they own/use any toys?)

Savage has literally never even seen a toy in person. He has no idea how they work, what they’re used for, why people use them, what’s the appeal... He is painfully clueless. So if you want to bring toys into the mix, you’ll have to thoroughly run them down to Savage or he might get put off. Depending on the toy, he might get a little iffy around it and unsure.

The only toy that’s blacklisted for sure is any type of restraint. He does not like those.

U = unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

Savage is... kinda bad at teasing. He’s just too darn sweet to tease!! He can’t find it in his heart to have you begging... for too long, that is. He may be a softie, but that doesn’t mean he’s a pushover. Savage with lightly tease throughout, toying with you a little bit before he gives in to both yours and his desires, and ravishes you.

V = volume (how loud or quiet are they during sex?)

Loud. Savage, when he isn’t very sweetly teasing you, he will be grunting and groaning and moaning your name like there’s no tomorrow. He sounds like a wild animal, all growls and snarls, rumbling deep in his throat like thunder on the horizon. It’s near constant too, and very very sexy. And, if it’s during his heat or your squeezing his cock just right, Savage won’t even be able to talk, and he’ll be reduced to a moaning, panting mess until he’s able to gather himself again.

W = wildcard (what’s a random headcanon?)

I follow the headcanon that Zabrak go through heat/rut cycles, but I expand more on it here in Maul’s NSFW alphabet. Basically, it’s about the same for Savage; he had an upbringing where his sexuality was suppressed, which severely jacked up his heat cycle’s circadian rhythm, that led to years of feelings of inadequacy and shame, which then eventually led to Savage having a mini sexual resurgence once he was free from his main oppressors and oppression.

That being said, Savage’s heat cycle doesn’t come often, as it and he is still healing, but when it does he gets a bit more riled up and snippy. He’s just generally more grumpy and gets hypersensitive to smells/sounds which will make him snap at people. But he’s still Savage, so he’s still a sweetheart in his soul, if not a gruff one.

But Savage still suffers a bit from the whole shame surrounding his biology, so at first he won’t want you around when he goes into heat. It is shame, he doesn’t want you to see him like that. But you’re smart enough to catch on eventually, and you’ll really have to wriggle yourself in and pull him out of his comfort zone at the same time. Savage needs to be let known that his physiology is normal and fine, and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of it. You’ll meet a bit of push back at first, because you are trying to undo years of abuse, but eventually Savage comes around.

He still gives you the option if you want to stay with him or not, because he’s thoughtful like that. If you decide to stay with him and “help him out” so to say... expect long, fun nights.

X = x-ray & x-tra (what’s underneath those clothes? any more random headcanons?”)

Savage is literally just 7 feet of pure muscle. He already towers over most others, but his burly figure also has the tendency to intimidate. Savage is positively stacked, with the physique of an Olympic bodybuilder. He’s got shoulders wide enough to sit a person on either side of his head, strong arms to match, and an absolutely exquisite pair of brawny chest muscles. Savage doesn’t have washboard abs like Maul, but he isn’t exactly dad bod either, he sits in the middleground of some definition of his muscles and a light brushing of pudge. His long, beefy legs are also particularly fun to enjoy, especially those thighs of his... and his nice ass.

And of course, Savage’s inky black tattoos paint him delectably everywhere else on his body, engraving sharp patterns all over his canary yellow skin. He also has scars scattered over his body, mostly on his hands and arms, but there are a few long ones on his back from, ones that have silvered in age, that bring about very bad memories. Savage doesn’t like talking about them.

Now his schlong... Maker you are in for it. Savage has a really, really big cock between his legs that you can thank to the enhancements his body received. Savage’s penis is 11 inches (27.94 cm) when fully erect and is just under 3.5 inches (8.89 cm) in diameter, so he is positively hung. Like all Zabrak penises, it’s ridged down the shaft and he is uncut. His balls are also fairly big, due to his size, and they sit lower from their weight.

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before Savage met you, his sex drive was relatively low. He was focused entirely on other things, most of which he didn’t really have a say in the matter, that drew a lot of his time and energy. Often, he was so exhausted that sex, and even sexual urges, literally never crossed his mind. Now after he’s met you, and has caught feelings nearly instantly, Savage finds himself thinking about fucking you a lot. Before you officially started a relationship, he spent many nights indulging himself with the thought of you and his hand. And when you both started dating, Savage damn near gets horny every time he looks at you. He realizes that he really likes sex, specifically he really likes it with you.

Z = zzzz (how fast do they fall asleep after?)

Savage already has the tendency to sleep like a log after strenuous activities, so after you and him have done the Devil’s dance a couple times, he passes out almost instantly. Albeit, you’ll probably pass out just as fast too, so you both tend to fall asleep all sticky and messy and stupid happy. He does try though, to remain awake to give you solid aftercare, but listen, this mans is tired and he was wants to fall asleep with you in his arms. Though, he does sometimes stay aware enough to clean you up, just in case you don’t wanna go to bed sticky.

[creatingnikki]

What 2020 has taught me

1. Those things that seem like content for sci fi or pure fiction are actually things that can happen. To the entire world. Like a pandemic. And to you. Like a seizure.

2. Everyone is sad. Everyone is struggling. In different ways and in different measures. Makes no one special. But you still get to feel sad for yourself and be compassionate towards others. But it's also okay to draw boundaries because you're everyone too. Remember, not special? You're sad and trying to deal with it too.

3. Every job you have will not add value to your life. It will not teach you new things or give you people you'll want to stay in touch with. Sometimes some jobs will only be a season of your life. Even if the season lasts for over a year. It's okay.

4. You know how you thought picking a college and picking a major and picking your first job and picking a specific industry were all the career decisions you had to make? Yeah, no. It's never a one time thing. You could have a job as a marketing strategist for two years and then want nothing to do with it. And then you'll have to make another decision and work towards it. So I'd like to call it moves. It's like chess. You always have to make a move. And it always has to be strategic, yes. But the truth is in your 20s it probably won't. Even if you try. And as long as you're trying, you'll be fine.

5. You may have different sorts of friends like the one you only talk to about kdrama with or the one you met when you went book shopping alone and the friendship is all about books really. That's normal. But irrespective of why and how you became friends with them, if you consider them a friend then there has to be this basic sense of care, respect and empathy for each other. I don't care what people want to say. If you're faced with the worst trauma of your life, the least your friends can do is check up on you regularly. On text. And if they don't even do that then guess what? They aren't friends. They are acquaintances. Social media and quick promises make everyone seem like your friend. But they are not. They are just nice people who will be nice to you for specific periods and then wander away like you are a speck of dust floating in their journey.

6. You speak a lot and write and you express yourself and you’re emotionally mature but oh my god. You still hold in so much. You’ve known that at a subconscious level and over the last year people - experts - have told you that. You have also realized that you make your pain and sadness about pettier things because dealing with them, admitting about them, sharing that with your friends, is easier. You do that so that you don’t have to deal with the real stuff. Because it’s so damn painful. And you don’t know how to do it. Yet. Acknowledging is the first step anyway right? I know you’re confused about how exactly to let go of all this pain and sadness and feel lighter, and you know that talking to people really isn’t the solution, but I also know you’re smart enough to figure it out. 

7. Talking about being smart...you know you’re different than others. Better. Special. Smarter. None of these are the right words. And you never voiced this out until this year because you knew it would make you come across as narcissistic. Some would say it’s because you’re an INFJ. But my mother once said that this may be the first time we are consciously living life but our souls are old and so our instinct and the things we know but can’t explain are because this isn’t the first time for our souls. The connections we feel with certain people, the reason we are so different from our siblings who grew up in the exact same environment with the exact same opportunities, our sense of right and wrong...it’s all because our souls learn and grow with each time and that’s why we are who we are. I think that’s probably how I can explain what I have always felt. That I am living in a different universe than everybody but I have to pretend to be in this one and dumb my emotions and thoughts down. Maybe that’s because my soul has lived through thousands of years while most around me are living their 100th life. Or maybe I’m just narcissistic, who knows?

8. You shift between talking in first person and second person but that’s because that’s how you think in your head and talk to yourself and live your life. You ask yourself things and you accuse yourself of things and you apologize to yourself and you comfort yourself. I think that seeps into your writing and the changing of the voices. 

9. You always genuinely thought that you’d not be afraid of dying. And then what happened this October proved you shockingly wrong. I know it’s not so much being afraid of dying but the unbearable pain of knowing what that would mean to your family. So you have to be more prudent and less reckless with your life and the choices you make. 

10. Regret is not something that plagued you but this year the realisation and pain of giving away your favourite books from your own personal collection to people you care about as a show of affection and them turning out to be ass holes or losers has hit you so hard. So, yes. No more of that shit. I really fucking want my copy of The Perks Of Being A Wallflower back. UGH. With the childhood picture of me inside it! 

11. Sleeping at 5 am in the morning stops being fun or romanticised when you realise just how much harm it does to your body and mind. Literally every single disease and disorder can be traced back to a shitty fucking sleep schedule. It’s not just the hours you sleep but also the quality of sleep and the time you sleep at. So yes sleeping for 8 hours is healthy but not if that 8 hours is from 5 am to 12 pm. ‘Not a morning person’ is just another construct of capitalism and you don’t realise how many industries profit from having you believe that and staying up late or all night. Entertainment. Food. Alcohol. Pharma. Biologically and naturally you are a bloody morning person. And you don’t need 3 cups of coffee to begin your day or your phone notifications to get you to open your eyes and brain to wake up. 

12. Sometimes you really have to stop taking people so seriously. I know the idea of treating people as casual friends or entertainment makes you want to fight that concept but you know what? Some people like Pineapple are ever only going to be good for that. No matter how much they ‘grow and change’. So keep them in the background for whenever you want some entertainment or drama. But please don’t clear up your busy schedule to meet them or send them gifts on their birthday. 

13. If you don’t have the fruit juice or green juice within half an hour of making it then you are losing out on its most optimum health benefits. Or when you remove the white stringy stuff from oranges. That’s where all the actual nutrients are.

14. I am privileged and so are most of the people I interact with. The global pandemic has been hell for a lot of people around the world. Health wise. Financially. Losing people they care about. But I was blessed enough to be safe at home and have a job that I could smoothly do from home and not have a pay cut or 4-hour long Zoom meetings. So honestly when my friends tell me 2020 has been bad I have to stop and ask them why? Yes, the crippling uncertainty and anxiety is not something that can be undermined. But most people I know had very great positive life-changing milestones this year like moving away to another country for college or taking their first solo trip or getting married. So I have to ask them. Because I am not going to agree that everybody’s 2020 and pandemic narrative is the same. 

15. Money gets spent really quickly. When I left my job earlier this year because of personal issues, I thought I had enough savings to last me a year. Full disclosure - I mean to last my personal expenses because I live with my parents. But it didn’t even last me 3 months. And so to use money wisely and buy things that provide utility than instant gratification is something to follow. Also buying one pair of really expensive but quality shoes is better than buying 5 pairs of affordable but low quality shoes that will have a very short life and force you to buy more. I know that higher price doesn’t always mean better quality but sometimes it does. And as an adult now I want to do the whole quality > quantity thing even with things and not just people. 

16. Everyone in their 20s went through a crisis of what they should do with their lives and their careers and it’s not unique to the 21st century and the challenges of today. Whether it was Vincent Van Gogh in the 19th century or Sylvia Plath in the 20th, every single person, as brilliant as them went through the torture of making these decisions and living with their consequences. You may think I picked wrong examples for they both killed themselves but you know what? They were the people who really want to live more than anyone. They knew what life meant. And maybe if mental health help was more accessible back then their lives would be longer and more peaceful. 

17. Telling people everything is overrated. You don’t have to talk about every single thing that’s on your mind or that’s going on in your life. The good and the bad and the mediocre. You have to be mindful about how much of yourself you’re giving away. 

18. Re-watch Suits when people at work feel intimidating because the confidence + negotiation tactics that they show can actually work irl cos at the end of the day no matter in what position you’re dealing with people who have emotions and fears and insecurities and desires. You understand how to leverage that nobody can get the better of you. 

19. You belong to yourself. No matter how much you love someone or how much they have done for you or how much you owe them - you belong to yourself. You can’t live your life for someone else. Everyone belongs to themselves first. No relationship, no promise, no circumstance should make you feel like you have to give up your life and make it all about them. If and when the time comes to die for them, go ahead. Take a bullet. Donate that kidney. Write them in your will. But live your life for yourself. And let them live theirs. 

20. Twenty three was a challenging year. When it started you claimed the age 23 sounds boring and insignificant. Guess it proved you wrong. It hurt so much now. But that only means you’ll look back on it later and see how it added so much wisdom and resilience to your being. It doesn’t mean that it makes all the bad things that happened to you okay. Or that you should be grateful to them. Fuck no. It means that you should be kinder to yourself because at the end of the day, your mind and body find it in themselves to deal with whatever is thrown their way. They have your back. It’s time you learn to sit straight. 

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: I

“And I can't wait another minute

I can't take the look she's giving

Your body rocking, keep me up all night

One in a million, my lucky strike.”

— Lucky Strike, Maroon 5

A/N: this idea started as just random concept drabbling between leyla @sunflowervolvimp3​ and i and we never really thought it would amount to anything tbh!! but as we started putting more and more into the plot and characters, we made the spontaneous decision to make it a full on, multi-chaptered collab fic! we have so many ideas planned and so much to elaborate on and we’re just so mfing excited to share it with you guys :’) any and all feedback is greatly appreciated 💌 we hope you enjoy the first part and that you fall in love with this stupid emotionally unavailable moron the way we did! happy reading!!

andrea’s askbox : leyla’s askbox : ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : 

word count: 17.2k

content/warnings: vampire!harry being a lowkey asshole while downing straight tequila like a psycho, getting to know The Crew, Mitch being the iconic legend he is, mentions of smut, and Harry working his immortal charm on an unsuspecting human girl with a peculiar scent and intriguing personality

///

Harry hates clubs. 

In his two hundred years of life, through many trials and tribulations, through tricky scenarios and annoying encounters, through thousands of unappealing circumstances and patience-testing events, he doesn’t think anything quite compares to the crowded, nerve-wracking experience that is a Los Angeles club on a Friday night during peak hours. 

According to his wise, humble opinion, it’s absolutely fucking petrifiying. He’d rather swallow a stake than have to spend hours in a dimly lit room with synthetic smoke choking his lungs, half-conscious humans stumbling around into him, and the stench of sweaty bodies mixed with liquor fumes, alongside the faint yet unmistakable waft of vomit. 

Yeah, Harry would definitely rather eat a red oak spear than have to shoulder that.

Despite his intense hatred for this Californian city during its after-hours, he can’t deny that he fits right into the scene perfectly. Decades of grooming and practice have made him a prime candidate for the fast-paced characteristics that come with the party nightlife. 

Fitting into these aspects aren’t something he had learned willingly; he didn’t really have a choice on the matter, considering his entire existence depends on mortals immature tendencies to get properly shit-faced and make stupid decisions in tightly-packed glorified bars. Harry never understood that— how a fog machine, strobe lights, and an undergrad amateur DJ could ever seem more appealing than the quiet, stable ambiance of a semi-formal bar. How deranged do people have to be to actually enjoy strangers spilling alcohol on them while attempting to shag someone else two feet away on the dance floor? 

Whenever he dwells too much on that thought, he gets a spiking migraine. After this long, Harry’s just come to terms with the fact that humans are regressing as a species. His conclusion is a bit cynical, perhaps, but hardly difficult to accept. One look at a news outlet provides enough proof to launch an Ivy League research project on the matter. 

He really shouldn’t be complaining, however, because the combination of overflowed close quarters and dampened inhibitions makes it the ideal hunting ground. Picking up a living blood bag at a club is basically as easy as walking through a vineyard and plucking grapes right off the stems. It’s practical, it’s fool-proof, and if he plays his cards right, he gets to feed and gets his more intimate needs tailored (a combo that he and his friends refer to as Laid and Drained).  

So regardless of his distaste towards clubs and their eager inhabitants, Harry had learned to mold his persona to fit the bill, making himself as approachable and desirable as possible. His life literally hangs in the balance; he’d put up with throngs of drunk sorority girls and their affinity for shitty perfumed drinks if it means avoiding desiccation. 

It’s not like it’s hard. All Harry has to do is make himself look more appealing than the other hundred men milling around the establishment, which— if he’s being brutally honest— isn’t that challenging. The moral, physical, and ethical standards of men have dropped frighteningly low since his time. Most of the ones that creep around clubs are overconfident, overzealous, boundary-lacking douchebags who think they’re entitled to a woman’s attention, and therefore make complete, utter fools of themselves in the process of trying to court one into their pants. Buying a girl one Sex On The Beach and dry-humping to Daft Punk isn’t the way to convince her to come home with you. 

Harry has developed his own guidelines and tactics for securing a nightly bedroom companion, and his ideas have been working wonders for him for decades now. 

The first and foremost rule is to clean up nicely. Personal appearance is everything. Humans are visual creatures; they build first impressions solely based on outward attraction. That trait is enhanced the higher their blood alcohol content rises. The drunker someone gets, the shallower they become, and it’s Harry’s job to work that to his advantage. And at the risk of sounding shallow himself, he thinks he does pretty alright in that department. 

Especially tonight, present in all the elements of his physique. He’s clad in a pair of high-waisted tan trousers that have been ironed to a crisp, his fitted graphic tee tucked neatly along his waistband beneath his black leather belt. His t-shirt is probably his favorite part of the entire look. It’s a baby blue sturdy cotton number with pastel yellow detailing along the cuffs and collar and a giant cartoon puppy in a striped bowtie taking up its center, smiling cheekily at the onlooker. Arranged around the doodle in faded Times New Roman bubble letters are the words WE’RE IN THE SHIT. 

Harry loves the irony of the article— the innocence of the drawing juxtaposed by the crude message. The piece is a conversation-starter— people almost always comment on it— and that’s exactly what he needs. Something to draw attention to himself and shadow all the other men. Something that shows he has a personality; that he has taste and a good sense of humor and isn’t just another walking genital. Plus, what person doesn’t enjoy a funny little contradiction, especially when it’s this cute?

On top of his graphic top, he’s wearing a tartan cropped blazer (open, of course) with a creme background and royal blue lines. The hem ends at the bottom of his ribs, exactly where his pants begin, and the jacket's hand-sewn buttons and strap detailings show that it's an expensive garment. It shows that he puts money and effort into how he looks, which is something anyone would appreciate when scoping for a possible hookup.

Harry’s shoes are the most casual factor of his fit. They’re a pair of light yellow Vans that match the collar of his tee. They’re plain, but he keeps them clean and they tie the whole look together without a hitch.

Accessories are everything, as well. Aside from the pearls arranged around his prominent collarbones, the gold-dipped cross hanging from a delicate chain around his neck, and the matching dangling cross earring on his right earlobe (again, he adores irony), he’s sporting a plethora of chunky rings on his hands, each unique and effortlessly complimenting his appearance. On his left hand, his index finger dots a ruby jewel embedded into a thick rusted band, another large metal one with dancing bears on his middle, and two clunky golden letters on his last two digits— his initials, HS. On his opposite hand, he has a medium-width plated ring on his middle finger with peace engraved along its rounded edge, an elegant lionhead number with an amethyst stone snug in its mouth, and along his pinky is a decently-sized opal set into a delicate polished frame. 

His two last rings are the most important of all. The lionhead is his daylight ring, which he hasn’t taken off since he transitioned. It keeps him from bursting into flames everytime the sun hits his skin. The opal was his mother’s, and it was her favorite. 

Harry’s attire is something he’s immensely proud of, even though a good amount of people deem him eccentric in the eyes of modern masculinity. He couldn’t give less of a shit. With his lightly tanned skin, alluring cologne and lacquered nails, his shirt stretching across the defined muscles of his chest and stomach, his broad shoulders and tapering waist, his thick thighs, sharp jaw, jade eyes, loosely tousled chestnut curls, and the vast array of dark ink littering his arms...

He looks good and he knows it. And all the people whose gazes glue to him as he passes by know it, too. Especially a random group of young women in line, who ogle at him shamelessly as he casually strolls past. He treats them to a sly wink, an irresistible dimpled smile, and a soft, cheeky greeting of, “Ladies.”

He gets off on the way they swoon at his refined English accent, giggling and waving. 

The only other component Harry has for succeeding in the club environment is simple, but it’s important: Don’t seduce, romanticize. 

Anyone— even inebriated idiots— can try and seduce a woman. And if she’s had enough tequila shots to cloud her thoughts, they just might succeed. But only a real man can romanticize a girl, and it yields way better results. 

Females are an emotional sect (Harry says that with zero misogyny; it’s just a scientific fact and he actually praises it), which means that if you entertain their interests and fluff their egos, they are bound to fall right into the palm of your hand. It changes the game completely because then they don’t feel that they have to pleasure you, they want to. They pursue the guy who flirts without being too vulgar, who appreciates and acknowledges their efforts, and who can go head-to-head with their wit by carrying unforced banter. They chase after him because he’s showing genuine kindness rather than just sexual interests and if he’s that attentive on the getting-to-know-you front, one can only imagine how skilled he could be in other bases. Chatting up a girl the right way, with patience and courtesy, builds credibility and prowess. And as a thank you, they’re usually more than willing to pay special attention to your needs, as well. 

Thus, romanticizing is always the expert move. So, yes, Harry detests clubs and the disaster that is adult recreation. But he’s fucking amazing at playing it to his favor. He’s great at calculating everything down to the smallest detail and he’s going to piggy-back on those skills for the rest of eternity. He’s so good at what he hates that his closest friends have anointed him the title of Walking Paradox. He’s more than happy to keep it. 

All of these thoughts are circulating around his skull, hyping him up for the game ahead as Harry and his friend group walk up to the bouncer at the entrance of the club they had chosen for the night, faint stars twinkling in the dark sky as the sounds and lights of the city fall away into background static. 

They cruise by the long line of people, hearing sounds of disagreement and grumbling coming from the other patrons waiting to get in. Harry casually tucks his large hands into the pockets of his light brown slacks as he pulls up in front of the burly bald man, who is wearing a black shirt with the club’s name printed in neon letters. The security guard is at least five inches taller than him, overswollen biceps and pectoral muscles rippling under the flimsy material of his work outfit as he crosses his arms over his barreled chest, cocking a single thick eyebrow at the seemingly young vampire. 

Harry delivers a good-natured smile up at the employee, despite the man’s obvious begrudging disbelief at what he is about to try and do. His friends chat quietly behind him, uninterested in what is happening; after years of being acquainted, they know that Harry is going to get exactly what he wants. He always does. 

He’s the best of them, that much is obvious. Not only when it comes to his experience with persuading sexual partners and getting himself a decent dinner, but he’s the best at convincing just about anyone to do anything, neutral of gender. He’s the second oldest of the crew, yet he seems to have the most knowledge and practice under his belt; his easygoing charisma, undeniable good looks, and dazzling smile could sway even the most stubborn of souls. Frankly, he’s so successful in getting his way that no one cares to try and argue for the leader position. Not when they can just sit back and let Harry do all the work. 

“Good evening.” Harry’s deep voice chimes giddily in the direction of the bouncer, his accent particularly heavy for no real reason. “How you doing tonight, mate?”

The guard— whose name tag reads Brock and Harry has to actively stop himself from snorting at how fitting the name is for such a brick of a human— looks down at him with a stony expression, voice flat. “I’m good.”

“Well, that’s great to hear!” The curly-haired boy’s simper widens, dimples popping into place as he skates into his next question with dramatic friendliness. “Haven’t had anyone cause you any trouble tonight, have you?”

Brock blinks once, attitude remaining coldly indifferent even in the face of Harry’s cheeriness. His words, however, are snipped and pointed. “Not yet.”

“I’m guessing you’d like to keep it that way.” The young man comments sympathetically, nodding his head along with the worker. “Totally understandable.” 

“Good.” The employee remarks in the same detached tone, shifting on his feet, obviously growing uncomfortable and irritated with the conversation. “So I’m guessing that means you know you have to get in line.” 

Harry glances over his shoulder at the lengthy expanse of people gathered along the side of the building, a light wind filtering through his freshly-shampooed ringlets as he studies the way the bright sign on top of the club casts alternating rainbow colors across the crowd. 

He makes a disapproving sound by sucking at his teeth, lulling his sight back onto the guard. “I don’t know, man. At this rate, I feel like by the time we get to the front of the line, it’ll be last call.”

“Maybe.” Brock shrugs offhandedly. “It is what it is, right? Fair’s fair.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Harry returns his gesture, but his posture shows no intention of moving, the corners of his rose lip set in a knowing smirk. “But since you’ve been having a good night, do you think you could find it in yourself to just let us through? We’d greatly appreciate it.” 

The bouncer’s face hardens, any shred of professional amiability washing out of his defined features. “I don’t think so.” 

The vampire’s shoulders sag in exaggerated disappointment. “Are you sure? It’s just five of us. Don’t think we’ll do much damage. Right, guys?”

Harry glimpses over his back to his friends, who let their conversation falter for a moment to throw out a chorus of half-assed agreements, trying to keep themselves from snickering. 

“We promise we won’t cause any problems.” Xander speaks up, jutting his chin encouragingly at the man as his lips twitch slyly. He lifts one of his hands, the smallest finger sticking out stiffly and wiggling around. “Pinky swear.” 

The rest of the group bursts into a round of light laughter, causing Harry to release a few airy giggles of his own.  

Xander looks over at Niall, raising his eyebrows and quipping in an innocent manner. “Right, Ni? No funny business tonight. That means no climbing onto the bar again and stripping down to your socks.” 

“That happened one time!” Niall exclaims incredulously, socking the taller boy in the shoulder as the others laugh harder than before, his blue eyes narrowed and face pinched. “Once! And it was only ‘cause Harry challenged me to a tequila shot contest.”

The Irish vampire’s accented voice drops darkly as he reminisces. “Fuckin’ hate tequila. Makes me act like a moron.” 

“As if you’re not one already.” Mitch pipes up in his usual soft dialect, chuckling as he ducks away from Niall’s vengeful fist. 

Harry cranes back to face Brock, thumb playing with his daylight ring as his hands stay relaxed inside his trousers. He shrugs one shoulder easily for emphasis. “See? You can let us through. We pinky swore.” 

The entire charade seems to have only infuriated the security guard more than before, his brows now fully furrowed and a deep, unamused frown etched across his previously pursed lips. His voice is on edge with barely controlled anger. “I’m not putting up with any shit. If you want in, go to the back of the line. If not, leave.”

Harry sighs grandly in defeat, head shaking slightly. “Guess I’ll just have to go the other route, then.”

The creature takes a step forward towards the employee, close enough that their chests almost press together. The bulky man stands his ground, though there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes at seeing the smaller boy make such a bold move. 

“What the f—?”

Harry locks gazes with Brock, pupils dilating to twice their size, the usual emerald shade of his irises flickering a haunting red and looking sinister in the buttery light of the street lamps. Horror breaks across the worker’s face, the ability to form coherent sentences disappearing from his demeanor. Harry’s heightened senses can hear the way his heartbeat spikes, blood instinctively rushing into his chest as a response to the adrenaline materializing in his veins. The activation of human’s fight-or-flight modes is always so oddly pleasurable. Just feeling how they react so drastically makes Harry’s fangs tingle with longing. Fear is a good condiment, he’s learned; it gives blood’s usual metallic flavor a certain twang.

But at the moment, a beverage from this specific tap isn’t the one Harry has in mind. He has his interests set on something much tangier and full-bodied; maybe Casamigos golden tequila, or Don Julio's Blanco. Preferably mixed with a young office secretary or a Bath and Body Works employee instead of lemon and salt. 

All in all, Brock is just collateral for a much bigger prize, which lies behind the roped off area he holds dominion over. It’s Harry’s job to break that dam. 

Before the large man can fully react, the vampire begins working his compulsion strategy, tone coming out level and soothing, thick with persuasion and teetering along a sleepy undercurrent. “You’re going to let us through, and you’re going to forget we ever met.”

The guard’s pupils enlarge to match Harry’s, the look of utter terror on his face melting right off. His features go slack as the monster’s magical influence works its way through his brain, coating every neuron and bending him to the deliverer’s will. The man reaches over and removes the velvet rope blocking the group’s path, stepping off to the side obediently with an empty expression present across his appearance. 

The leader of the group smiles just as brightly as he had the second he’d walked up to the door. He passes by the worker, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder and feeling the muscular man strain under his supernatural strength. “Thank you very much. You have a nice night, Brock.” 

Harry’s friends follow behind him, echoing his parting message and sharing a collective chortle.  

The second the group dives past the frame of the club entrance, the whole ambiance of the atmosphere changes. Harry walks across the top ledge of the establishment, coming to a halt at the railing that overlooks the main level of the club, his inhumanly sharp eyes bouncing around all the corners of the building to construct some type of familiar layout in his head. Amidst the blinking lights, thick artificial smoke, and swaying bodies, his keen instincts sketch a mental image for tonight’s hunting ground. 

The bar is at the far left corner of the club, squared off and taking up a large chunk of the colorful tiled dance floor. The music station extends across the entire wall at the opposite end of the tavern, stocked with massive speakers and a professional turntable. Harry’s brows jump in mild surprise— it’s not every day that a club puts so much effort into their mixer. 

The animated dancing area is packed with people, the crowd all jumping and grinding to the beat of the bass, moving as one large mass while the rotating strobe lights hang from the cavernous ceiling, bathing their moving silhouettes in neon reds, drunken blues, groggy purples, and electric yellows. The dim surroundings and heavy fog make all the hues more intense, giving the endless party that timeless quality which people tend to enjoy about nightlife. It’s the night to remember effect that movies and shows always hyperbolize; he thinks this way because he’s well aware that not even a third of these people are sober enough to know what the fuck they’re doing, let alone recall it the following day. It’s comically ironic, really. 

But Harry profits off that liquor amnesia, so he brushes away his sardonic skepticism for the time being, settling his lean forearms onto the metal railing that lines the second story of the venue, which is meant to keep shit-faced customers from creating a messy lawsuit. He carefully absorbs the grandeur of it all, leaning his weight forward with a detached sigh, already flickering through the mental menu of his favorite drinks that he has expertly memorized. 

He’s in the process of choosing between a Manhattan— it isn’t a very complicated drink, which is exactly what he’s looking for; something simple and strong— or just straight tequila in a glass when he suddenly feels a familiar presence arrange itself beside him, bumping his shoulder playfully with their own.

Harry snaps out of his recipe retrieval, eyes casting to the side to land on his best friend of almost a century. He cocks an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for the thin, bearded man to make the first move towards conversation.

“You’re a real dick, y’know that?” 

The green-eyed vampire sputters into spontaneous laughter, the edges of his eyes crinkling as the small pits in his cheeks jolt awake. His tone is humorous and full of fake insult for the hell of the joke. “Wow, alright. So I get us into the club that you chose and that makes me a prick? Good to know. You can handle the muscle next time, then, if you’re gonna talk shit.”

Mitch cracks a gentle jesting grin, which is very on brand for him. He doesn’t seem like much, with his skinny, lanky frame, delicate features, shoulder-length hair, and somewhat scraggly stubble. He’s quiet, reserved, and hardly engages with anyone outside of their immediate group. He’s always been that way for as long as Harry could remember. 

When they had met back in 1924 at a speakeasy in New York, Mitch had given off a mysterious vibe that Harry had found amusing and intriguing. His slightly sickly appearance and distant persona made the younger vampire want to get to know him better; it was just so peculiar that this seemingly impassive man was working at an illegal bar as a live musician. One would think that a performer would have to display an engaging character to keep a loyal audience, but Mitch had been all the talk of the underground despite his unemotional coolness. It was startlingly unorthodox and Harry just had to know more. 

Therefore, with a bit of help from his convincing supernatural abilities, he’d secured a spot as the black market club’s leading vocalist. He wasn’t anything worth a Grammy, but he could keep his singing in tune and follow Mitch’s guitar rhythms easily enough, all thanks to his limited experience with piano. He fit right in. 

From the first show they had put on together, it was like they had known one another in a different lifetime. They clicked so flawlessly it was almost fictional. 

Harry was lively and charming on stage, working the crowd to his favor as easily as he could knock back a shot, wrapping every single patron around his jeweled pinky without breaking a sweat. His witty temperament countered Mitch’s timid disposition perfectly and that uncommon dynamic had been the foundation to their friendship. Their humorous shenanigans on stage (which included Harry pinching at Mitch’s ass and making vague vulgar motions at each other while harmonizing) was a hit within the drunken community, and it bled into their personal lives. They went from only interacting on stage to sharing drinks together afterwards, to hanging out outside of work, to deep late night conversations about the world and their experiences.

Soon enough, they were closer than either had expected to become. And once they found out each other’s true identities (Mitch had transitioned during the American Revolution, when a vampire in his battalion had given him blood to heal from a wound, unaware that the next day, Mitch would suffer a fatal gunshot to the stomach that would trigger his transformation) they grew inseparable. They had remained that way ever since. 

Despite his friend’s withdrawn tendencies, the older vampire never hesitates to make his opinions heard, obvious in how he’d just full-bodied Harry with that snarky comment. Even when it’s at his expense, Harry appreciates and respects the rawness of it. He loves the way Mitch is honest and straight-forward with everything that crosses his path— it’s one of his favorite traits about him and definitely one of the characteristics that had led Harry to deem him his best friend. He’s probably the most fulfilling person Harry has ever met and their friendship brings him a type of comfort that he doesn’t receive from anyone else.

Vampires can be so detached and cold not only towards humans, but towards one another, and it gets old at times. It’s unsettling not having someone to truly confide in, and Harry is grateful that Mitch had been so willing to fill that position.   

Due to this, Harry rarely takes genuine offense in Mitch’s digs. They’re normally expressed as a joke and they’ve both been alive for so long that thick skin is a default.

“How was I dick?” Harry inquires, slinking his head to the side with entertained curiosity. “If anything, he was the one being an asshole. I asked him to let us in nicely and he practically spit in my face!”

Mitch snorts in amusement, shaking his head lightly as his eyes streak across the humongous room in the same cunning manner Harry’s had. “You and Xander didn’t have to mock him that way.” 

That’s another thing that makes Mitch the better half of their power duo— he still has a decent shred of humanity in his unbeating heart. Pessimistic conclusions aside, Harry does have a bit, as well...but his is more like a paper-thin pencil shaving than a shred. Barely there, but there, at least. 

The young man returns his companion’s snort, rolling his eyes up to the hanging lights over their heads. “Was just some harmless teasing. Nothing bad came of it.”

Mitch scowls scoldingly. “It was unnecessary and mean.”

Harry mimics his expression with his nose scrunched sarcastically. “We were just taking the piss, and it’s not like he’s gonna remember it anyways. Stop being such a kill-joy.” 

“Stop being such an arrogant little shit.” 

“Or what?” Harry tilts his chin up challengingly, the amber specks around his pupils glinting tauntingly, faint black veins momentarily webbing across the whites of his eyes. He sweetens his voice into a honeyed drawl. “Are you gonna spank me, daddy? Have I been a bad boy?” 

Mitch belts out a feathery chuckle, shoving his friend with enough strength to send a regular human flying across the deck. But since the taller vampire matches his force, he hardly moves an inch. “Fuck off.” 

“I’m being serious!” Harry cackles, turning his hips and sticking out his ass towards his visibly disgusted acquaintance. “Go fucking in, if you want.”

He lowers his voice into a sultry hum, wagging his backside jestingly. “I like it rough, baby. Why don’t you bend me over this railing and show me who’s boss?”

It’s Mitch’s turn to roll his eyes to the ceiling, voice deadpan. “I think I’ll pass.” 

Harry juts his lower lip into a theatrical pout, sniffling faux tears. “You’re rejecting me that quick? Who’s the asshole now, huh?”

His best friend doesn’t even blink. “Still you.”

“I can live with that. And it’s probably a good call on your end to give up all this,” he signals vaguely up and down his tight torso with a ringed hand, grinning as he watches the veteran vampire pretend to gag, “because I don’t think Sarah wouldn’t be too happy about it.” 

Mitch’s humorous face immediately drops, eyes narrowing at the change in topic. “Very funny.” 

“I know, right? I’m a proper comedian.” Harry quips proudly, batting his lashes mockingly. “Where is Sarah, anyways? Have you heard from her lately?” 

Sarah and Mitch...They’re a complex couple, if they can even be called a couple. The two are more like occasional friends with benefits, “occasional” meaning “once every couple of months, if Sarah happens to be passing by.” 

Their relationship is open and very loose, mostly due to the fact that Sarah is fairly new to the world of blood-driven immortality and has decided to take full advantage of it. She’s been using compulsion to travel the world for the last three years since she changed, which had been the result of an unfortunate car accident. 

Mitch had been seeing her casually beforehand, keeping her around for the purpose of having a conventional feeding arrangement. Every time vampires feed, they heal the wounds they inflict with a bit of their blood, proceeding to then wipe the person’s memory with compulsion in order to eradicate any chances of getting caught. The caveat is that if a human dies with vampire blood in their system, they become one. 

Sarah’s death happened the day after she’d spent a night with Mitch, and one can imagine how distressed she had been when she'd awoken atop a metal table in a morgue within the basement of a hospital. Mitch had been there from the very first second she’d opened her eyes to her new life. Or rather, her dead life. He had helped her get accustomed to the next stage (meaning having to cut family ties in order to avoid a catastrophe— the less people that know the truth about the supernatural, the better) coaxing her through transition and teaching her the way to go about the rest of eternity without putting herself and others in danger. 

Vampires rarely have any compassion for life (usually out of spite, which stems from how their own lives were taken from them), so it’s not uncommon that bodies are found drained of blood in back alleys, abandoned warehouses, and washed up on banks of oceans and rivers. It could be either of two reasons, or even both: the monster doesn’t care about the consequences of their actions, or they never learned to control their urges. 

Harry’s crew isn't that careless. Through Mitch, they had learned restraint, taking up his practice of feeding enough to satisfy themselves without killing the host, healing them, and then erasing the occurrence from their memories. Mitch had come up with the tactic to cling to his humanity— to be as kind and nondestructive as possible— but if Harry’s being honest, most of their friends only play along because it’s convenient. No bodies means no police involvement, and no police involvement means being able to settle down in one place for an extended period, not having to stress about the annoying process of bouncing around the world for the rest of their lives to avoid detection. 

Keeping low was for the best, and when things get rough— whether it be a mistake on their part or a disastrous bender caused by another vampire passing through— they resort to drinking from blood bags until things tide over. Mitch has a contact at the nearest hospital, which is how he gets access to the stock, as well as how he managed to clean up Sarah’s passing so quickly. 

All in all, Harry had only mentioned Sarah to tease his friend, knowing the slight sensitivity that comes with the subject. Vampires rarely form emotional bonds, typically because it can get really messy, really fast, whether that connection be to a mortal or to another creature of their species. All of them have baggage of some sort— you can’t die, resurrect, be forced to abandon your family, and be a slave to drinking blood for the rest of eternity and just...be normal. That type of extreme emotional turmoil is corrosive towards love. It’s always better to just avoid it all together. 

That’s why this is so habitual to joke about; it’s a way to deflect. 

Mitch sighs grandly, Harry’s question echoing in his skull. “I don’t know where she is, to be honest. Last we talked was, like, four weeks ago, I think. She was in Japan, said she was drumming for a new upcoming band. Haven’t heard from her since.”

Harry nods his head once in understanding, itching to steer the theme of their conversation elsewhere now that he knows the topic is in a more sensitive state than he’d imagined. He doesn’t want to push Mitch into a depressive episode when they’re supposed to be having a good time. Spending the night consoling his sulky friend in the bathroom of a club is the last thing he wants right now. 

“I guess that makes Sarah the asshole, then.” He pokes jokingly, bumping the older vampire’s hip with his own. “She’s ghosting you. Get it? It’s funny ‘cause she’s actually dead.” 

Mitch’s sad expression shatters like glass, replaced by one of unamused secondhand embarrassment at the shitty pun. “I fucking hate you.”

“All the people who were ahead of their time were hated.” Harry sing-songs, turning up his nose haughtily. “Copernicus, Socrates, Einstein— all of them were hated for being geniuses. I’m willing to carry that same burden.” 

Mitch blinks at him three times. “No one hated Einstein.”

The curly-haired boy’s lips twitch darkly. “I’m pretty sure Japan did.” 

“You’re going to hell.” 

“I’m already there, mate.” 

Mitch shakes his head, but even through the black lights, Harry can see him trying to ward off a laugh. After a moment’s pause, he speaks up again softly. “It’s not that hard to refrain from humiliating innocent people who are just doing their job, H.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you’re still on that?” The broad monster groans in exasperation, palms slapping down on the metal rungs below him. “We were just having some fun! But fine. If it helps you fake sleep at night, I’ll try and keep my condescending flare to a minimum.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Mitch responds peacefully, tapping his nimble fingers casually along the railing, his action much less violent than his companion’s. “S’not too difficult.” 

“Whatever.” Harry scoffs, returning his intent gaze to the dance floor, scoping out the scene once again in hopes of finding a proper meal for the night. 

He zones in on a group of young women gathered along one side of the bar, their messy giggling and lack of balance giving away that they’re obviously sloshed off their faces. Seems promising enough. 

When he talks once more, his tone holds an attitude that plays on a grumble, but it’s somewhat distracted. “The least you could do is let me have some fun, considering I didn’t even want to come.” 

Mitch huffs, making an entertained noise in the back of his throat. “You say that every single time we go out, and yet you always end up taking someone home. Don’t know why you’re complaining.” 

Harry side-eyes him from his peripheral vision, the corners of his pretty cherry mouth dipping down grudgingly, mood defensive. “You drag me to these things so I’m not going to apologize for making the best of it. I put a lot of effort into my pick-ups! I deserve to get my dick wet.” 

“God, please don’t say that again.” His best mate physically makes a vomiting sound. “You’re acting like a spoiled fraternity douche.” 

Harry’s gaze ignites into flames, his back straightening out as he fully turns to face the shorter man. He’s never been insulted so low before. “Take that back!” 

“Take that back!” Mitch mocks in an exaggerated, high-pitched British accent, attempting to stifle giggles. 

“Take it back! You know how much I hate Gen Z.”

“Okay, boomer.” 

“You’re older than I am!” 

“I know. Your lack of maturity is a constant reminder.”

Harry opens his mouth, prepared to make a sharp comeback about how Mitch should have left the shaggy-haired stoner aesthetic back in the eighties, but then a heavy Irish accent interrupts his rebuttal. 

“What’s all this about getting your dick wet?” 

Both of the vampires turn towards Niall, finding Xander and Adam accompanying him in a loose semi-circle. 

Xander isn’t paying any attention, too busy tapping away at the screen of his smartphone, apparently engaged in a very riveting conversation with whoever is on the other side. Adam has his hands tucked into the pockets of his plum purple wind-breaker, looking over Harry’s shoulder, seeming to be adamantly searching for someone in particular amidst the mob on the level beneath them. Niall is the only one interested in their dying conversation, probably only because he heard something crude being mentioned. 

“It’s nothing.” Harry dismisses, but he can’t help but stick Mitch with a glare. “What’s the plan for tonight, then?”

Adam speaks up for the first time. “Charlotte and Ny texted saying they got here about ten minutes ago. Mentioned they were dancing near the DJ station, so I think I’ll go find them.”

“Sounds good.” Harry bobs his head in accordance. “We’ll see you out there, yeah?” 

Adam returns his action, turning on his heel and heading for the stairs that lead to the bottom floor. The leader of the group watches him trot onto the large spiral staircase, disappearing into the thick throng of people scattered across its wide steps. 

Harry shifts his attention to Xander, snapping his fingers a few times in his direction and giving a two-toned whistle. “What about you? What’s got your head?”

“Not what, who.” Niall teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and making kissy faces at their friend. 

Xander ignores him, glancing up at the green-eyed brunette to let him know he’ll be with him in a second, returning his focus back to his iPhone. After a few more elongated moments of typing, the older man finally locks his device. 

“I have a date.” He throws out casually, almost as if it should be obvious. 

“A date?” Harry reiterates slowly, not quite buying it. Xander doesn’t date. He couch-surfs just as much as Harry does. 

“Mmhm.” Xander glimpses behind his fellow vampire, eyes carrying intention. “It’s just a random dude from Tinder. I thought it’d be easier to set something up beforehand, just so I don’t have to spend the whole night trying to figure out if a guy is making eyes at me or trying to keep his whiskey down.” 

“Smart.” Harry shrugs his sculpted brows, impressed. A cocky grin toys with the corners of his mouth. “But we both know no one will ever compare to me.” 

“Right.” Xander scoffs in a deadpan manner, gifting him a tight, aggravated smile. “If only you weren’t such an emotionally unavailable prick.” 

“Oh, like you’re mentally stable enough for a relationship?” Harry bites back, but it holds no true malice, just some petty rivalry. “Piss off.”

“Happily!” The other vampire exclaims, clasping his hands together for dramatics. “Have fun finding someone out there. I’m just gonna grab a to-go box for my already prepped meal.” 

Harry doesn’t bother watching him leave. Instead, he turns to Niall, pointing at him to symbolize it's his turn to share his plans for the night. “What have you got, Lucky Charms?” 

His friend breaks into a jolly cackle at the nickname, arms falling crossed over his chest, hands absentmindedly squeezing his elbows in thought. “Well, I dunno, Tea and Crumpets. What’s your game plan?” 

Before Harry can answer, Mitch butts in, feeling left out of the banter and somewhat hurt that no one had assigned him an alter ego. “What’s my country-derived nickname?” 

Niall gives the American a slow once-over, shifting in his dark brown Clarks boots, fitted navy slack riding up his thighs and allowing his rainbow polka-dot socks to peek out. He hums lowly in the back of his throat, a grin spreading across his rosy cheeks. “Biscuits and Gravy.” 

Harry chimes in, his own arms casually folding over his strong chest, index finger tapping on his bottom lip as if mulling something over. “I quite like We The People, actually.”

The Irish lad snaps his fingers as if having a sudden epiphany. “Uncle Sam!”

Harry’s emerald eyes twinkle with glee at seeing the way Mitch’s go half-lidded, no longer entertained. “Four Score And Seven Years Ago.” 

“Okay, I think that’s enou—”

Niall wags a finger at Harry, lifting one shoulder in question, seeking approval on his next idea. “Star Spangled Banner?”

Harry copies the boy’s motion from before, snapping his fingers and making jazz hands. “I Pledge Allegiance.”  

“Ok, I get it!” Mitch whines with annoyed finality, pushing off the metal railing with a curt grimace on his scraggly face. 

“You asked!” Niall rationalizes between hiccups of evilly delighted joy, cupping his stomach as if to keep it from splitting open. 

“Won’t make that mistake again.” The older creature grumbles, leaning his back against the rungs and looking off towards the distance, communicating that he’s done being a part of the conversation. 

Once Harry manages to reign in his giggles, he rubs at his nose with the side of his finger, releasing a wistful sigh. He refers to the question Niall had stated before their little bullying fest. “I think I’m just gonna do what I always do— sway a nice, pretty girl into doing some not-so-nice but very pretty things.” 

“Solid.” The Irish bloke remarks, toying with the plastic buttons on his silk beige top. “Not much to do other than that, to be fair. Adam’s usually my wingman, but I guess he abandoned me for a girl’s night.” 

“Mitch is mine, and he knows better than to dip on me.” Harry roughly nudges his best friend with his elbow, dodging to the side when Mitch tries to hit him in return. 

Niall hums softly in amusement. “Maybe I should make Adam sign whatever contract you drafted for that poor bugger.” 

The curly brunette snorts. “Good luck. Adam’s as stubborn as they come. But, hey, if you can’t find anyone, just come to me.” Harry’s irises flit crimson for a millisecond, an ominous smirk buckling his features. “You know I’m always happy to share.” 

“Thanks,” his friend exhales flatly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“If you’re taking tips,” Mitch pipes up, vaguely signaling at Niall’s shirt with his chin, “maybe don’t wear that stupid shirt next time. The elephant doodles look ridiculous.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not taking fashion tips from anyone who actually enjoyed living in Ohio, then.” Niall snaps in an exaggerated American accent, middle finger jutting towards the other man. “The only thing you know how to dress is a cornfield scarecrow. Must be why you look like one.” 

Harry forces down more laughter, clearing his throat softly. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t get hammered— girls hate that.” 

“Note taken.” The pale boy runs his fingers through his hair, fixing it up and adding texture to appear more laid-back and rugged. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Later.” The younger vampire recites, giving a big thumbs-up. 

“Good luck out there. You, too, Boston Tea Party.” 

With that, Niall saunters away, leaving a fully laughing Harry and a grouchy Mitch in his wake. 

The two acquaintances decide to follow in everyone else’s example, descending down the looped staircase and chatting about Mitch’s latest gig at a new bar downtown. 

Harry praises Mitch's talent with his guitar, specifically the fact that he found a hobby which he enjoys so much that he’s willing to keep it as a permanent part of his life. It’s easy to get bored of things when you have hundreds of years ahead of you; everything can seem pointless, in the end. But Harry doesn’t think Mitch has ever let himself fall into those types of dark headspaces and he finds that extremely admirable. 

Harry wishes he could say the same. He’s no musical prodigy, that much is obvious, but he is an expert at playing a few specific French songs on the piano by memory. He rarely does it, though; only when he’s in a low state of mind, which— given the origin of how he learned said classical pieces— isn’t something he’s proud of. They’re tied to a very gruesome part of his past that he’d rather bury deep inside, but he can only push back his troubles for so long before they begin to leak out, staining the clean sheet of recovery he had sewn into place. Those arrangements just bring him a warped sense of comfort he can’t explain.

Even though he’s aware of the destructive aspects of the songs, he finds himself humming one now out of instinct as he elbows through squished bodies and flailing limbs. The second he notices he’s doing it, he cuts it off, focusing all his intention on making it to the other side of the room to the bar. It’s a hard trip when it feels like the walls of the building are closing in on him. 

When Harry finally breaks free from the Human Centipede re-enactment that is the club dance floor, he practically collapses onto the sleek glass counter. Death was less painful than that walk. 

He cranes his neck to the side wildly, suddenly remembering that his much smaller, much skinnier, much more crushable friend had been in tow behind him. To his utter shock, he watches as Mitch calmly weeds around grinding drunk couples with the poise and grace of a swan, filling the empty spot besides him without a single ailment in the world. 

Harry blinks at him blankly in silence, almost as if he’d grown an extra set of fangs. 

Mitch flags the bartender from all the way down the counter, not bothering to meet the green eyes peering at him in disbelief. “You’re so fucking dramatic, H.”

“How did you not die? Again?” Harry sputters, sight jutting all around the older vampire’s body, looking for any battle wounds or missing appendages. “I almost lost an arm in there!”

“It’s a good thing it wasn’t your favorite one, right?” Mitch smirks at his own lewd joke, the simper molding into one of genuine kindness when the mixologist slides up in front of them. “Hi, how are you? I’m good, as well, thank you for asking! Yeah, I’ve got something in mind. Don’t worry, I’m not one of the ‘just make me something sweet’ type of assholes.”

Harry zones out the rest of the friendly chat Mitch entertains with the employee, letting his gaze wander around the large auditorium-like room. He dances his vision over the DJ remixing music on top of the stage, head beginning to bop along to the beat that is currently shaking the seven foot tall speakers. He’s pleasantly surprised at how good this specific producer is. 

He continues scoping out the rest of the venue, taking notes of the different clusters of people that seem to hold promise for the plans he has in store later tonight. A small group of hippie friends here, a two-party duo of tipsy stoners there, and a clump of college students at the edge of the ruckus, stumbling around loudly. Things are looking somewhat decent, in his opinion. The hippies seem to be catching his attention more than the others— specifically, the one that looks similar to Stevie Nicks. That’s a fantasy that’s been waiting to be fulfill for decades now. 

Harry lulls his head forward again when he feels Mitch give a squeeze at his elbow, telling him that the bartender is waiting to take his order. He decides to go for the gold tequila, asking for it straight in a highball glass without any garnishes. The worker’s eyebrows jump up slightly at the unorthodox request, but he drops a polite, “Coming right up.” either way.

“You truly have no flavor.” Mitch tuts once their waiter has stepped away to prepare their drinks. “No taste buds whatsoever.” 

“Yeah? Well, you can suck my flavorless dick.” Harry chimes brightly, eyes crinkling shut as a result of a theatrical smile. 

The younger vampire goes to turn back around, legitimately interested in the girl he’d seen that looked like one of his seventies celebrity crushes, already running through scenarios in his head on how he’d get her into his bed for tonight. Weed and ABBA are probably good conversation starters for that, if Harry’s undisputed people skills have anything to say about it. 

As he’s rotating his torso, a blurred image catches his eyes. He does a double-take, honing in on a group of girls that look faintly familiar. He scans them carefully as they huddle around the corner of the bar area, laughing and toasting along to the multiple conversations they all have going at once. They look like the typical posse that would be a backdrop clique in a mainstream movie. 

He knows where he recognizes them from— it had been the same girls he’d spotted earlier up on the second deck.

Harry expertly surveillances each woman, picking out potential candidates as easily as he’d pinch petals off a flower. The one in the center of the group is obviously the leader, present in how she’s the prettiest and is somehow managing to juggle all of these interactions at once. It means she’s used to being the center of attention— probably strives under it. He throws her out as a potential; the last thing he needs is someone who everyone knows and seeks out. He wouldn’t be able to sneak away with her quietly. 

The rest of the girl crew all seem to be the same status-wise, appearing as supporting characters to the main one in the middle. He could choose any one of them blindly and it wouldn’t make a difference. They all seem so tight-knit, they probably share personalities, at this point. It’s like dipping his hand into a jar of jelly beans and they’re all the same flavor. That notion makes him laugh to himself a bit; maybe Mitch was right about his lack of taste. 

Then, Harry spots her, and all the other women immediately go up in smoke. 

It’s hard not to spot her. She sticks out like a sore thumb, but not in a good way. 

The prospective contender is off to the side, sitting atop a barstool with her feet tucked along the footrest, tapping them against the metal rung awkwardly. She’s talking to one of the other people in the group, but the interaction seems forced and not very satisfying, obvious in both of their faces. She’s tracing her middle finger around the edge of her glass cup distractedly, the contents inside barely touched, the ice in her drink long-melted. She seems disinterested in the chaos her friends are causing, her expression bored and borderline regretful, as if she doesn’t want to be here. 

The further he sizes the girl up, the more appropriate she looks for the role he needs filled. Since barely anyone is paying attention to her, that means he can lead her astray without too much resistance from her acquaintances, if any at all. She appears somewhat unimportant to the narrative— merely a background extra— and it makes him wonder what she’s doing with this clique of women that can’t seem to be bothered by her presence. It’s sad, really. Sad, but beneficial, because that means he can succeed in making her the supporting protagonist of his narrative, at least for tonight. 

The girl is attractive, but not anything astronomical. She’s unconventionally pretty in a way that makes her relevant, but not particularly distinct in the eyes of regular men with presumptuous standards. She’s easy to pass up, and if Harry hadn’t been actively pursuing someone of her bashful persona to card into his plans, he wouldn’t have noticed her. At the risk of once again sounding shallow, Harry’s aware that— physically speaking— he’s very much out of her league. His above-average appearance gives off the vibe that he’d fit better with the leader of the group instead of with her, but he doesn’t want someone that would raise suspicions as a result of their absence. This girl, sitting along the edge of the party with barely any purpose and no one to really question her whereabouts, is exactly what he’s looking for. She’s perfectly imperfect for the cause. 

Harry continues to examine her meticulously, analyzing other traits that can give him a better feel for her character. She’s clad in a pair of high-waisted pastel pink silk pants that stop right at her ankles, accompanied by a flouncy creme lace blouse tucked into her waist. Tan wedges, no accessories, delicate rosey nail polish, and minimalist makeup. The boldest thing about her is the brick red shade of her lipstick, which is easily shadowed by the sparkly sequin dresses, five inch heels, and layered tops her friends are wearing. 

Harry likes her outfit, though. It’s concise and safe, which he can appreciate. Yes, perhaps she looks like she belongs in a dentist’s office rather than a Los Angeles nightclub, but he thinks there’s beauty in simplicity. She looks cute, and that’s good enough for him. 

“She seems interesting.” Mitch’s soft voice snaps him out of his detail-hungry haze, drawing him back into the reality that is the black lighting of the club and the deep booming of the music’s bass. 

His friend slides his tall drink across the glass counter, the amber liquid inside warping his reflection. 

“I suppose so.” Harry answers passively, shrugging one shoulder in indifference while accepting the cup, ringed fingers clinking against the crystalline surface. 

He takes a leisurely sip from the straight tequila, its tangy kick sending a warm surge up through his ears and down his throat, spreading into his chest and along the trench of his tummy. Alcohol really is the cure to everything. 

Mitch gives him a deadpan look, the strobe lights alternating across the glossy surface of his hazel irises, highlighting smugness. “You’ve been gawking for five minutes. Put your pride back in your pants and go talk to her.” 

The curly-haired vampire flashes him a light smirk over the rim of his drink, absentmindedly tapping his two initial rings along the bottom of the highball cup. “Ever so blunt, aren’t you?”

Mitch scuffs, taking a swig from his trusty beer bottle. Out of everything, that’s the one aspect Harry despises about his best mate— that he goes to a club and orders the same drink every time. Where was the fun in that? Where was the excitement of trying something new? When you have an eternity, the least you could do is utilize it to your advantage. Cycling through every cocktail in human history is a prime example of making the best out of immortality.  

But Mitch is a creature of habit— as are most of their kind— and Harry knows he won’t shake easily. Not when it comes to surrendering his preferred beverage, and definitely not when it comes to sticking his nose in Harry’s intimate business. Meddling and being irritating are what best friends are for. 

“What can I say? Pep talks are my forte.” The older monster remarks sarcastically, bumping his bottle against Harry’s glass in encouragement, using the spout of his container to point in the general direction of the mysterious girl. “Now go make dinner.”

“But, darlinggggg,” Harry whines playfully, a smirk still tugging at the corners of his slightly liquor-swollen lips. “I made dinner last night. Isn’t it your turn?”

Mitch rolls his eyes and shoves Harry’s shoulder harshly, with just enough force that it actually has some type of impact this time around. “Just go, before she gets creeped out by your staring.” 

Harry’s own irises copy his friend’s actions as he pushes himself up from the bar, rubbing at the new sore spot on his shoulder with an exaggerated pout present. “Ow.”

Mitch blinks at him flatly, fighting off a grin. “You’ve had worse. Go.”

Harry swivels on his heel, once again facing the group of tipsy girls at the other end of the counter. It appears that most of them have dispersed into the dance floor, having found partners to entertain them for the time being, moving to the music as if there are no other people in the room. They had left behind three of their companions, one of which is Harry’s aspiring hookup; he gets the feeling that the two girls had stayed behind out of the kindness of their hearts, feeling too guilty to leave the runt of the litter all on her own. He hopes that’s the case because if so, the second Harry inserts himself into the situation, they’ll take that chance and split, leaving him to tend his meal in peace.

He tucks one large hand into the front pocket of his trousers, the grip on his glass tightening a smidge, rings biting into his skin as the condensation of the chilled tequila cools the small spike of pain. He spins his lionhead ring around his finger within his slacks, gradually drifting closer as he goes through a checklist of prized pick-up lines he could use to garner her attention. He ducks and dodges inebriated club-goers with ease now that he’s had something to take the edge off, finally reaching the end of the bar, slowly coming to a halt right behind his target for the night. 

Harry nearly passes out as soon as her scent hits him. 

It’s faint and tender and nothing quite like anything he’s encountered before, a mixture of honey and lavender that permeates through her normal perfume. He feels like his head’s been put through a wringer, his whole body clenching for a moment as raging sparks erupt across the pit of his belly. He indulges a deep breath, willing the blazing current away in order to keep his cool, but all he can see flashing before his eyes are images of her leaving traces of that smell smeared all over his face as he bobs his head between her quivering thighs.

He takes another penetrating inhale, centering his mind back into the present. He needs to behave.

Her friends spot him immediately, their side of the conversation faltering to ash. They give Harry a wide-eyed once-over, mouths parting in slight shock as they drink up his attractive appearance, gazes lingering along his thick chest as it strains the baby blue material of his tee. Their sights drag across his broad shoulders, dainty collarbones, and strong neck, faces gawking without remorse, blinking emptily at the slope of his sharp jaw and the peaks of his prominent cheekbones. They seem to be at a loss for words the second his dimples indent into place, his brows shrugging in a half-assed greeting before he cocks his head to side a tad, voice velvet as it directs towards the girl they had forgotten existed.  

“I’m guessing you’re the designated driver?”

Y/N jumps slightly in response at the new addition to the painfully dying conversation, not recognizing the heavy English accent and deep baritone that booms behind her. She had been wondering why Melissa and Isabel had stopped talking so abruptly, and she now has her answer. 

Y/N slowly goes to cast a curious glance over her shoulder and Harry can hear the pulse flaring in her neck from the sudden intrusion to her surroundings. His fangs prick along the inside of his bottom lip due to carnal instincts; he has to will them back into receding. 

 When her eyes land on the owner of the random words, her finger immediately halts its swirling motions along the hem of her glass.

‘Fuck.’ is the only thought that registers through her short-circuiting mind. 

The lanky, curly-haired brunette that stands before her gives a gentle yet confident smile, the gesture dazzling even in the low lighting of the atmosphere. He’s absolutely gorgeous, with deep pits carving into his cheeks, perfect teeth complimenting full cherry red lips, eyes the color of a rainforest canopy, and a broad frame that is somehow not overwhelming. He’s sporting neatly ironed tan slacks, a fitted cotton shirt with a cute yet crude graphic at its center, a fancy plaid coat, and crisp yellow Vans without a single smudge in sight.

Y/N can’t help but take notice of all the little details of his fit, especially the accessories. A beautiful pearl necklace laid along his delicate clavicle, a cross resting between his defined pectorals, and a matching earring dangling from his earlobe. Not to mention the array of clunky rings arranged along nimble fingers, hugging a tall glass carrying caramel liquor and somehow managing to dwarf the cup’s size. The extra decoration is sensual in such an unexpectedly delicious manner. 

The hand he has tucked in his pants ducks out to comb through his dark auburn ringlets and Y/N can feel her mouth water at the new round of elegant rings. The action activates the cologne Harry had thoughtfully spritz in specific pressure points along his body, the scent of tobacco and vanilla traveling through the fog-heavy air and causing Y/N’s stomach to summersault. 

The young man is as close to flawless as anyone could ever come. 

Y/N feels an unmistakable sharp pain shoot through her ankle, and she comes to the realization that it had been the tip of one of her friend’s heels. The reality check jars her out of the embarrassing daze he’d spelled onto her, open mouth snapping shut and her lashes fluttering over her previously unblinking eyes. 

“Oh! Uhm—uh—” She clumsily twists sideways to fully face him, swallowing thickly and tasting the remnants of the alcohol she’d barely been nursing. “N-No. I’m not— well, I don’t think…? We Ubered here so that wouldn’t make any sense ‘cause I have no car to drive...so...” 

The boy chuckles softly at her choppy monologue, his laughter warm and inviting, similar to the look reflecting off his shiney irises, the golden flecks around his pupils seeming to swell and shrink from the rainbow lights cascading across them. Despite being caught off guard and utterly embarrassed, she can’t seem to break eye contact with him. The longer she gazes into his eyes, the more relaxed she begins to feel, a fuzzy heat stemming from the center of her belly and spreading up her neck and ears. 

Y/N gulps heavily like before, willing her tongue to produce a less embarrassing comment. “Sorry. Let me...Let me start over…Hi.”

“Hello.” He quips back playfully, lopsided grin widening in fond amusement. He lifts his drink up a bit in greeting. “M’Harry.”

“Y/N.” The girl squeaks out, copying his gesture because it’s easier than forcing her disoriented brain to try and come up with its own. 

Harry flirts his intent up and down Y/N’s body slowly, checking her out without any subtlety. He wants her to know he’s interested. 

When his sight locks with hers again, he bats his lashes sultrily and pours as much passion as he can into his tone, accent weighing in just right. “S’nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Her entire face prickles at how her name sounds dripping from those faultless raspberry lips. She’d pay anything to hear him say it again. “You, too.” 

This is not what Y/N intended. This is most definitely not what she’d intended to happen when she’d reluctantly agreed to go out with some coworkers on a Friday night, giving in simply because she had promised herself she’d be more social within her new job. 

She had moved to California roughly two months ago, wanting to get away from her old life in the small, boring town she hated to call home. Buying the flight had been a drastic decision made when she had been under the influence of something she’d rather not admit, but the following day— after she had sobered up from a wicked hangover— she found herself not wanting to cancel the trip. Found herself craving the excitement and adventure of beginning anew somewhere far away from everything she had ever known. 

All of Y/N’s friends back home had supported her without hesitation, egging her preposterous idea and congratulating her on “getting the fuck out of here.” Her family had been a little less supportive, but after a few heartfelt chats about following your ambitions and a budgeting lesson from her cousin, they had gingerly gotten on board. They understood that keeping her trapped in that lame town where nothing really happened wasn’t the way to ensure her success in life. Therefore, the people closest to her had swallowed their opinions and respected her choice to dive off the deep end, in search of something better beyond the borders of their tiny city. 

Within a week, Y/N had secured a decent job at a semi-popular cafe, courtesy of a connection from a family friend. Within two weeks, after many sleepless nights full of Rocky Road ice cream and the bright white pages of ApartmentFinder.com, she had managed to book a nice flat close to her place of work. It was a miracle, if she’d ever seen one. Especially within the crowded, expensive community that is Los Angeles. Within three weeks, she had been walking out of the giant glass building that was LAX with only two suitcases in tow, boarding an Uber to her new life. 

Things had never seemed more picturesque, she’d thought. Everything was falling into place in a way that seemed almost blessed by the universe.

Then, the culture shock hit. 

California was different. It’s was so fucking different than anything she’d ever faced and she wasn’t prepared for the social difficulties she’d have to hurdle. All her life, Y/N had grown up with the same people around her, spending every school year with them up until graduation, expanding her friend group as time passed. Even after high school, she’d remained closely connected with most of her graduating class. The region she lived in was tiny, tight-knit and friendly; it was hard not to. She couldn’t even go to the store for groceries without bumping into at least three people from her Algebra II class. 

Point being, it had been ages since Y/N had been put in a situation where she actively had to try and make friends. She’d been through that challenge way back in kindergarten and had never been hit with it again. 

Until it smacked her across the head here in LA.

Y/N didn’t mesh well with Californians, she quickly found out. They were all about crazy parties and club-hopping, whereas Y/N had been raised on community cookouts and mass sleepovers. They enjoyed getting cross-faded and streaking down the beach at two in the morning, meanwhile Y/N liked stripping down to her undies and spending the night binging Queer Eye while stuffing her face with Cheeze-Its and Snickers bars. They freely boasted about their sex adventures while bussing down tables at the restaurant, while Y/N’s intimate life had been nonexistent since the move. 

It was just...startling, to put it lightly. It wasn’t what she had expected at all, and that’s mostly her fault for not doing the correct amount of research before jumping headfirst into a cliche LifeTime film. 

Therefore, Y/N had made a pact with herself one month in, swearing to let loose and allow her surroundings to sweep her into a new dynamic— into a new, social butterfly version of herself. She’d started accepting the invitations from her coworkers to go out at night, and she’d started putting more effort into being open to wild experiences, no matter how scary they might seem. Shutting down and refusing to mold to her environment would only result in her having to return home with her tail between her legs, and she’d rather jump naked off a pier than see her parents’ faces wracked with pity. 

And that’s exactly what she’d done a couple nights ago, at the encouragement of the group of girls she was at the club with now. It had, in turn, ended in her coming down with a mild cold, but at least now she’d be able to tell her friends back home a cool story about dropping inhibitions. 

Dropping inhibitions is also why Y/N’s here tonight, dressed in the most party-like outfit she could put together, prodding an overly-boozy drink into her system, attempting to release some of the tension that had been building in her head for the last couple of weeks since she’d left her old life behind. That’s why she’s here, with strands of her blow-dried hair catching on the dark red gloss Melissa has slathered on her mouth in a thick layer. That’s why she’s here, with synthetic smoke scratching at her lungs and drunken men and women bumping into her every two minutes, most of them too busy sticking their tongues down each other’s throats to realize they’d almost toppled her off her seat. That’s why she’s here, with a blasé expression plastered across her features as her coworkers talk over her head without a second thought, her mind far away from the walls of this overhyped horror house. 

Y/N had been thinking about how she’d just started her Disney+ membership, finding comfort in putting together a mental checklist of all the movies she’s going to plow through the second she sets foot past the doorframe of her apartment. Indulging on her childhood was an ideal form of escapism, in her opinion. She’s positive Walt Disney would agree. 

That’s what her brain had been lost in when Harry’s deep, melodic voice had interrupted her daydreams, sending her spiraling into an embarrassing performance of nerve-induced hysteria. 

Now here she is, blinking back at him dumbly, eyes the smallest bit damp from the smoke machine and neon flashes of light. And here he is, smirking at her over the rim of his glass, eyes raking down her wired up body suggestively as he takes a calm sip from what appears to be the straight tequila in his colossal, bejeweled hand. 

The English boy takes a gradual step closer to her, wanting to make sure he’s not crossing any boundaries that would make her uncomfortable. The scent of his cologne intensifies and she feels a fiery heat suddenly pour between her clasped thighs. It just hits her how long it’s truly been since she’s gotten laid and fuck, it’s sad.

Harry begrudgingly peels his attention away from Y/N for a second, aiming his words towards the girls standing behind her with their mouths still opened stupidly. Even from a respectful distance, his warm breath still washes across her jaw and cheek, causing electricity to zip down her spine. “You don’t mind if I steal her for a bit, do you?”

‘Yeah,’ Y/N thinks in the back of her muddled skull, ‘that’s definitely tequila.’

Isabel and Melissa slowly shake their heads in unison, glancing at each other as if to confirm he’d just spoken to them. 

The edges of Harry’s lips jolt into a kind, easygoing smile. “Thank you. Promise I’ll keep her safe.” 

Y/N feels her heart hiccup at his statement. If she’s not insanely mistaken, it appears to have carried an undertone of dirty intentions. God, she’s praying she’s not mistaken. 

The two girls clamber away on their tall pumps, rounding around Harry and pausing for a moment. They make moaning faces and vulgar motions behind him, encouraging Y/N to pursue the stranger. She then watches them disappear into the throng of crowded bodies, leaving her alone with the beautiful boy and her heart slamming against her ribs. 

Y/N focuses back onto Harry, licking her itching lips lightly, not knowing what to say next as he settles himself beside her. He rests his forearm on the counter along with his drink, tucking his other hand back into  his trouser pocket and fixing himself into a comfortable standing position, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. The friction between his jacket and the bar rides his sleeve up an inch or so, and Y/N gets a view of the anchor tattoo he has along his wrist, as well as the upside-down cross inked between his thumb and index finger. 

Harry catches her looking, mouth twitching with a smidge of arrogant self-assurance. He loves when girls drool over his tats. 

“I have more.” He remarks lightly, a pang of condescending pleasure shooting through his chest at the way she jerks and pins her gaze down to the floor. 

Blood rushes into her cheeks at the realization that she’s been caught and Harry’s teeth grind. It’s so hot watching her fidget for him. Maybe he finds her more attractive than he’d originally let on. “Would you like to see them?”

Y/N timidly coaxes herself into locking stares with him once again, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, barely nodding with a soft, “Sure.” 

She looks so pretty like that, he notices, staring up at him all doe-eyed and shy. It’d probably look even better if she were on her knees.

Yeah, he definitely likes her more than he’d thought. 

Harry proceeds to shift about, shrugging his coat off his strong shoulders, letting it slip down his lean arms and reveal the plethora of dark tattoos strewn across his left arm. Y/N watches avidly, drinking up every flex of his biceps under the black paint and every twitch of his pecs beneath his cotton shirt, the tendons along his throat going taut for just a moment. That moment is enough for her to etch the image into the back of her eyelids for the rest of her life. 

Harry tosses the article onto the table, extending his arm over its surface for her to get a better reading. She doesn’t miss the chance, her pupils tracing over every line and stroke of the pen, over every shaded area and meticulous detail. 

His voice comes out as a low, garbled murmur, his own irises studying her features with just as much intensity. “You can touch them, if you’d like. I don’t mind.”

After a moment of hesitation, the brim of her crystalline cup is replaced by the ridges of his smooth, tanned skin. She drags her digits over the naked mermaid, tracing the curve of her figure and the dip of her tail, then passing onto the stem of the large rose, ghosting over every thorn and prickle. Harry can feel her heartbeat through her fingertips and it’s making him throb. 

“They’re very pretty.” Y/N whispers, allowing her touch to fall away, palm finding refuge across the counter. “Did they hurt?” 

“A bit, yeah. But I’ve gotten so many done that I think I grew numb to the needle after a while.” Harry answers, shrugging one shoulder to show it’s no big deal. He grasps his glass once again and takes a drawn-out swig, extending the action just so she can see the way his Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows. Once the cup is back in its place, his tongue peeks out and swipes any leftover liquid from his rosy lips, which then settle into a coy simper. “Plus, I kinda like the pain.” 

Y/N’s breathing stutters in her lungs and she swiftly swerves the topic onto something much less explicit. “So why’d you ask if I was the designated driver? That’s kind of an odd question. Very out of the blue.” 

Harry lulls his middle finger across the hem of his glass, exactly how she had been doing earlier, the motion weighed by an innuendo. She seems to understand it, present in how she bites into the inside of her cheek. “I just figured that a pretty girl like you would have easily found someone to dance with. So when I saw you sitting here looking all bored with your drink barely touched…I just assumed, I suppose.” 

And there it is again— the blood pouring into her face. Christ, if she keeps that up, he’s going to fucking lose it.

“Thank you, that’s— that’s really sweet. Proper gentleman.” 

Harry runs his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes snapping to her tinted mouth for a second, establishing some sexual tension that he’ll expand on as they go. “Who doesn’t like a guy who knows how to treat a girl, right?” 

Y/N clears her throat softly, obviously phased by his forward compliment, but she tries to play it off. “To answer your question, I— uhm...I’m not really one for the club scene, I guess. Don’t really like it, but I didn’t want to be rude and turn down the invitation.” 

‘Good girl,’ Harry thinks, silently cheering her on for having more brain cells than the typical human. 

“Well, that’s where we share some common ground, then.” He chimes brightly, a soft smile bringing his dimples to life. “I don’t care for clubs, either, but my friends have an affinity for them so here I am.”

He gestures vaguely towards the general direction where he’d left Mitch, continuing his rant. “The choking smoke, the annoying strobe lights, the crowded floor, the drunk morons—”

“Bumping into you without giving a shit.” Y/N finishes his sentence, her vulgarity drawing a boyish giggle from her companion and now she’s convinced she’d do anything to hear him laugh like that again. “And there’s always a faint smell of vomit coming from somewhere.”

Harry slaps his hand down against the glass table in passionate agreement, voice pitching up slightly as his brows jump in emotion. “Right?! It’s fucking disgusting. Don’t understand how anyone could genuinely enjoy it.” 

Y/N nods vehemently, sharing the same expression of utter distaste towards the subject. “It honestly doesn’t make any sense to me, either. Why come here when you can go to, like, a nice bar somewhere, y’know?”

Harry blinks at her in astonishment, her opinion mirroring his own with psychic-like accuracy. “My thoughts exactly.” 

“Great minds think alike.” Y/N responds playfully, taking a hearty gulp from her drink since the first time he’d spotted her from across the room. 

After a comfortable pause, Harry speaks up, also entertaining another sip from his own drink, which is now nearly empty. “Are you from around here?”

She can’t be. Rarely anyone born and raised here is willing to bash the status quo, and never so openly. 

She’s once again mesmerized by the attractiveness of his rings, but manages to get her composure in check. “Kinda. I moved here about two months ago.” 

Precisely his point.

Harry releases a curious hum over the cup between his lips. “Let me be the one to officially welcome you to Cali, then! Where people go to shitty clubs for fun and tan themselves into a strip of leather.”

Y/N sputters out a half-suppressed giggle and Harry’s brows almost furrow at the weird fluttering in his stomach. He rarely gets it.

Y/N takes another deep gulp of what he thinks is probably an Old Fashioned, silently praising the way she’d finished it off so quickly. She crunches an ice shard between her teeth and lets it melt across her tongue before engaging again. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here either though, are you?”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to chuckle a bit and she fights off an endeared smile. 

“What gave it away?” He asks, purposefully doing a thicker, fuller accent, his teasing nature making the grin she’d just stifled fully break through.

Y/N lifts a shoulder offhandedly. “Your accent seems a little too…posh for this area. Or even this hemisphere.”

Harry scoffs softly, the pinky around his glass sticking up jokingly as he kinks an eyebrow at her, a few rouge curls falling across his forehead. “Keen ears, mate.”

Y/N lifts her drink up a bit with a playfully knowing air, mimicking an English dialect. “Cheers.”

He places his empty cup down on the counter, his middle finger once more ghosting around the edge absentmindedly. She notices the pastel yellow polish covering his nails, tiny black smiley faces decorating the lacquer.

“I like your nails.” She admires, tipping her empty lowball towards his hand for significance. “Did you do them yourself?”

Harry glances at his fingers, stretching and wiggling them out, his features taking on a bit of pride. “Sure did.” 

“Don’t think I’ve ever met a guy at a club who could pull off nail polish so easily.” 

The left edge of his lips flicks upwards. “How do you mean?”

Y/N’s gaze bounces back to his and the tone twirling in his jade irises tells her everything she needs to know about keeping this conversation going: he enjoys being praised. 

She chooses her next words carefully, wanting to appeal to his interests. “I mean that it looks amazing on you. The color suits your skin nicely, makes your hands look good.” 

Harry breaks eye contact, glimpsing down at his shoes and she realizes he’s actually trying to hide a blush. The fact that she had managed to coax one out of him boosts her confidence while simultaneously making his own waver. He’s never like this— never so easily flustered. He needs to get it together.

Harry tilts his chin back up, lower lip strung between his two front teeth. His voice comes out as a flirty laugh.

“Known you for maybe,” he looks at the beautiful watch on his wrist symbolically, “ten minutes, and you’re already stroking my ego just the way I like it. I think that’s a record.” 

Y/N doesn’t know if it’s the liquor she’d just consumed too quickly, or if it’s Harry’s intoxicatingly alluring scent dulling the region of her brain that controls fear, but she’s suddenly filled with a strange surge of courage and her thoughts are spilling down her semi-numb tongue before she can stop them. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good at stroking, so an ego’s not too hard to handle.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow, surprised at her brazen reply. He might have misjudged her more than he assumed. However, he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy this girl more than the one he thought he was going to receive. There’s just something about how she can match his banter without a problem, and how they share a lot of the same thoughts and opinions, that just lights a fire in his stomach. 

“Is that so?” His voice lowers in pitch and he scoots a step closer, fingers just barely brushing against her arm as he repositions himself against the bar. His question comes out as a sultry murmur. “What else can you handle?”

Y/N knows that she’s starting to cross a line, and with every passing moment, the likelihood of returning to her friends is getting smaller and smaller. She’s not mad about it. Riding off of the wave of confidence that had inflated her ego earlier, she mumbles her response back with the same tone and texture. “How about you buy me another drink and then maybe you’ll find out?”

Harry gives her a boyish grin and the indents that pop into his cheeks nudge his appearance from an incredibly attractive man to an adorable cheeky boy. He motions to the bartender for another round of drinks, only letting his eyes flicker away from her for the moment it takes to do it. “How do you like LA so far?”

“It’s...alright.” It’s Y/N’s turn to move closer to him now, flicking her hair off her shoulder, hoping that the motion releases the perfume she’d dabbed on her neck while getting ready. Judging by the darkening of Harry's eyes, it does just that. “It’s definitely a change in pace from where I used to live, but I think I’m slowly gaining the reigns. I feel like once I get acquainted, I could grow to love it.”

“LA’s definitely a toggle. You could either vibe with it, or it’ll eat you alive and spit you back out.” 

She bats her lashes at him in stunned fright at his bluntness, his face deadly serious without any twitch or give. 

Harry then bursts into high-pitched laughter, eyes crinkling shut and nose scrunching. “I’m just fucking with you, love. Ease up, hm?”

“You asshole!” Y/N exhales grandly, half in relief and half in indignation, slugging him on the shoulder. All she feels is hard muscle beneath. 

He continues to cackle, sticking his tongue out at her. “Looked like you were about to cry.” 

“It definitely crossed my mind, yeah!”

The bartender arrives with their fresh drinks and Harry tells the man to but both of Y/N’s on his tab. She feels her cheeks glow, telling him he doesn’t have to, but he waves it off and says he’s more than happy to serve such a nice girl as herself. Especially if she “hates the same things I do. Think of it as your initiation gift into the Anti-Club Club.” 

A handful of heartbeats tick by, full of comfortable quietness as they both savor their new beverages. Harry pipes up first, regaining their topic from before.

“But, yeah, Cali’s for sure a special place. You meet some cool people if you hang around for a while. But sometimes,” he pauses for a second, eyes gleaming with something she can’t quite interpret. “But sometimes you can meet a really interesting person in just one night.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Y/N clicks her nails against her Old Fashioned distractedly as Harry fixes her with that beautiful emerald gaze that makes her ears tingle. She cocks her head to the side knowingly, flashing him a soft smirk. “Sometimes, you just happen to meet that one in a million.”

“A lucky strike.” He adds, lifting his tequila an inch off the counter and tilting it towards her in what appears to be a toast, irises dancing with a certain type of suggestive mischief. “To meeting interesting people.”

The human girl clinks the rim of her lowball to the edge of his cup, shrugging her brows and reciting his comment back to him. “To meeting interesting people.” 

Y/N measures how the rest of their interaction goes by how quickly her drink shrinks. 

When she reaches down to the first ice cube stacked on top, Harry has managed to coax multiple rounds of laughter out of her, his humor startlingly similar to her’s in the most refreshing way imaginable. She quickly learns that despite his broad shoulders, lean torso, dark inking, and flawless features, he’s a complete and total dork. His personality consists mainly of voice impersonations and contorting his expression into an endless array of silly faces, which she takes to easily.

By the time Y/N’s amber drink has reached halfway down its container, the default touch barrier between the two has broken completely. There had been a few caresses prior, but now it’s more frequent, more noticeable, and each touch extends in time. She had been the one to initiate getting physical, which had sat so right in her stomach because that meant he was respectful and patient— definitely unlike most men in clubs. 

The mortal girl had gently shoved Harry’s chest when he’d made an nonchalant joke about how losing his swim trunks at a nude beach had been both the best and worst experience of his life, her cheeks boiling as she had felt nothing but more toned muscle beneath the cotton fabric of his top. She had gone back to tracing at his tattoos the further they got into sharing anecdotes and opinions, glancing up at him for permission in the middle of their exchange and smiling to herself when he’d nodded casually without a second thought. As the conversations continue, they both unintentionally get closer in distance to the point where the arm Harry had settled on the bar is now fully wrapped around the small of her back. She willingly leans into him, their knees and thighs brushing with every shift of their bodies and those minute moments begin to pile up their excitement.

By the time the alcohol in her possession bottoms out, she is nearly sitting in his lap, faces only a few inches apart. Y/N can’t recall half of what she had said, the subject having steered into so many different places that she couldn’t be bothered to keep track. Besides, she’s too focused on trying to keep a straight face as Harry plays footsie with her below the counter, his light yellow sneaker toying with her heeled velvet wedge. 

An important question on his behalf snaps Y/N out of her flirty stupor.

“So how do you like your new home?”

She blinks at him slowly, partially to try and give a seductive tinge to the interaction and partially because the liquor has started to truly settle in. It takes her a few heartbeats to process the inquiry. “I love it, actually. It’s a place of my own, for the first time ever. I couldn’t be happier.”

The corners of Harry’s swollen lips tick in genuine happiness on her behalf. “That sounds amazing. Congratulations on such a big step.” 

“Thank you! What about yourself? Renting anything neat?”

“Oh, I own a condo here.” He mentions casually, outlining the criss-cross pattern along the circumference of his highball glass. “I used to visit so often that I finally just decided to pull the trigger on one.”

“Look at you, investing in real estate.” She says in a teasing voice, her heel grazing around his calf slowly, cheeks sizzling as he parts his legs a bit to allow her the pleasure of traveling higher up.

“Mmhm.” Harry licks his red lips, free hand starting to trace over her own. The tips of his fingers are calloused and cold, the motion of them over her skin almost pulling a tremble out of her body. She does her best to restrain it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Is it nice?” 

“Hm?”

His lips twitch in endearment at how he’s managing to make her lose her train of thought. “Your apartment, darling.”

She rests the rim of her drink on the bottom of her lip as she speaks. “It’s nothing huge or fancy, but it’s a decent size and l can call it home. Can’t get much better than that.”

Y/N loves how Harry's eyes flit to her lips for what she thinks is the billionth time tonight, his vision sketching along the curve of her cupid’s bow and dotting every peak.

Another warm glow of confidence spikes through her veins and she’s talking before she can analyze her thoughts. “Well, at least I think it can’t get much better than that. Although, I could just be biased. Could probably use an outside opinion.” 

It takes Harry a moment to register what she’s suggesting, a light blush creeping up the base of his neck as he realizes how he’s stopped so abruptly. Humans usually never get him this unnerved and it’s one of many times she’s made it happen. “An outside opinion?”

Y/N lists her head to the side. It sounds like he’s accepting the vague invitation, but she’s so anxious to mess this up that she’s second guessing herself with every passing second. However, with every touch, she wants Harry more and more, and that’s enough to propel her towards a more direct approach. “Mmhm. Like yours, maybe. Would you like to come back and see it?”

Harry pauses for a few of her heartbeats, and then bobs his head in acceptance. She can breath again. 

He finishes off the last inch or so of his tequila, a wicked grin creeping its way across his pretty, flushed mouth, long fingers carding into his loosely arranged curls. “I’m more than happy to be of service.”

A smile works its way onto Y/N’s own face at his response, her foot dropping back down his leg slowly. “I’m glad to hear.”

“Mm.” Harry takes her hand completely now and she almost moans at how much bigger his are, his rings pinching a bit, skin rough in some areas, but silky smooth in others. And strangely icy, but she enjoys it. “Shall we say goodbye to your friends first? I wouldn’t want them to worry about you.”

He knows her “friends” couldn’t care less, but he wants to be as much of a gentleman as possible. Romanticize, romanticize, romanticize.

Y/N snorts, knowing full well that they’d probably purposefully embarrass her in front of him as a joke. 

She squeezes his grasp lightly, giving him a soft smile. “You’re sweet, but it’s fine. They were actually behind you earlier, encouraging this whole thing, so I’m pretty sure they won’t mind.” 

Harry hums deep in the back of his throat and the sound melts into a cute chuckle. “I’m glad they helped, then. Think you can deliver them my thanks some other time?”

The young woman chews on the inside of her cheek at his comment, realizing that it suggests he aims on keeping her occupied for the rest of the night and well into the morning. She has to will herself not to lurch forward and kiss at his annoyingly perfect lips right then and there. “I’ll make sure to pass the message along.” 

With one last cocky simper, Harry helps her down from the stool and pays off their tab, offering her his jacket since most of her outfit is made of flimsy fabrics. Y/N takes it appreciatively, lashes fluttering when his scent envelopes her like a blanket. It’s the unique smokiness from his cologne, mixed with a slightly sweeter smell that she assumes is his shampoo, and a bit of something that reminds her of a vanilla candle. The aromas are sewn into every thread of his coat and she can’t wait to have those scents glued all over her more deliberately later tonight.  

Harry turns and plunges them into the throng of partiers, weeding through bodies with a type of determination that makes her insides twist. His arm comes up in front of him as he plows people out of the way with absolutely no regret, leaving her to throw out a few half-assed apologies in his wake. The idea that he’s excited to be alone with her has Y/N’s insides churning. 

Once they escape all of the grinding limbs and tight spaces, stumbling into the cool air of the starry night, she takes a huge gulp of air. She prays it will tide over the jitters running along the inside of her tummy. She has just now realized how riled up he’d gotten her and it’s all coming to a raging boil. 

Harry paces past the bouncer, throwing up two fingers in parting. “Later, Brock.” 

The security guard gives the young vampire a confused look, not recognizing him at all and wondering how he knows his name. 

Y/N repeats Harry’s phrase for the hell of it, squeezing his hand jestingly and he glimpses over his shoulder, grinning at her with sheer amusement and something much deeper swirling around the specks of copper in his irises. If there was a bit more light, perhaps she would have noticed the way his irises had glinted blood red instead of olive green.

She ogles at the way his back muscles shift and flex below his pastel blue shirt, her mind vaguely taking note of the light yellow detailings along the cuffs and collar. The tee is intriguing and fun and she hopes he’ll let her sleep in it after they’re done. 

She also gets distracted by the baby curls decorating the nape of his neck. She’s itching to tug at them and see what his response would be. Would he shiver in her grasp and let out a soft moan, or would he smirk darkly and tell her to go harder?

Harry suddenly halts, snapping her out of her thoughts as he presents his car. Y/N’s jaw nearly falls off. “This is yours?!”

She gawks at the vintage jet black convertible before her, feeling like she isn’t worthy of its chic presence. It looks new, shining in the street lamps like a thousand diamonds, not a scratch or dent in sight. 

Harry unlocks the passenger’s door, opening it and guiding her inside with a gentle pull at their clasped hands, shrugging his brows playfully. “Hope it’s not too shabby for your liking.”  

“Are you kidding?” The human mumbles in awe as she ducks down into the patented leather seat, running her free hand over the elegant cover. She sighs softly at the way his smell is lingering inside the vehicle, just as much as it sticks to his clothes. “I feel like I should bow to it or something.”

He laughs fully now, leaning down to get a view of her sitting prim and proper in his favorite car, looking gorgeous in her flowy silk pants, lace creme blouse, and his own clothes. He gnaws at his bottom lip to withhold a needy groan. “I think you fit right in.” 

Y/N feels warmth erupt into her face and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to distract her fingers from shaking. “Looks like I’m not the only one that’s good at stroking egos.”

“S’hardly a task. You make it easy, doll.” 

It’s the second pet name he’s called her tonight— it’s strangely vintage, same as his car— and she can’t wait to hear what others he has in store. Preferably in the form of breathy pants and broken whines.

Y/N flicks her gaze up at him through heavy lashes, attempting to stifle a sheepish smile. “Quite the charmer.”

A moment of silence suspends in the air, a light breeze filtering through Harry’s curls, swaying the jewelry around his neck as well as the earring hanging from his lobe. Harry speaks up with a type of hushed desire she hadn’t heard from him yet. “Can I kiss you?”

She blinks up at him once in mild surprise and then releases a sigh of utter relief. “Fuck, I thought you’d never ask.” 

Her hand reaches upwards outside the confines of the car, knitting into the thick fabric of his shirt and yanking him down. The second their mouths meet, it sets off a dozen fireworks in the pit of her stomach. His is softer than she had imagined, wet and warm, and his tongue carries the sourness of the tequila he’d been swishing the whole night. 

Harry’s breath hitches in his throat, and then a quiet whimpery moan streams down his tongue onto her itchy skin. “Christ, that was hot.”

As much as she loves the taste of him— the tartness of the alcohol mixed with an inherent sweetness his lips carry— she forces herself to pull away, but keeps her sweaty forehead pressed to his. “Yeah. It was.”

With one hand still gripping the car door, Harry uses his other to cup her chin lightly, guiding her into another kiss. Now that they have both developed a feel for the other, this one is less tentative than the last. She tastes so fucking good on his tongue, like strawberry syrup—probably from her lipgloss— orange bitters, and bourbon. He just has to have more of it.

A helpless gasp escapes Y/N when Harry's teeth graze against her upper lip, only nipping enough that she craves more. More of anything he has to offer. 

He pulls away and the whine that plucks her vocal chords feeds his eternal soul like nothing else has in a while.  

The young man grins at her for a moment, half in smug satisfaction, half red-faced and desperate, before carefully closing the car door and making his way to the driver’s side. He slides in with ease, shuts his own door and buckles up with a click of the belt. The simple action has never looked so attractive before, but she’s certain that anything Harry does with his ring-covered hands would be attractive.  

He fishes his keys from his front pocket, asking her where she lives in order to try and orient himself. As it turns out, she’s not too far away from his own flat. He knows exactly which condominium she’s referring to without having to even search it up— a perk of living here for a few decades.

He also chuckles to himself a bit at the fact that she hadn’t mentioned he shouldn’t drive under the influence. Vampires have an extremely high tolerance due to their self-healing properties, so the drinks he’d had only gave him a soft, warm buzz. He just finds it comical— and slightly arousing— that she’s so eager to get at him that she’d let that detail slip her mind.

Harry starts the car, but doesnt pull out of the parking spot. Instead, he glances at Y/N as a crease appears in his beautifully sculpted brows. The idea of something displeasing him bothers her, and she’s about to ask what it is when he murmurs a quick, “Just a second, dove.” He reaches across to grab her seatbelt, pulling it over her body and securing it into place on her behalf, making sure it’s nice and proper before leaning back in his seat. He doesn’t know why he cared to do it, but he had. 

The simple action leaves another layer of heat on Y/N’s cheeks. Having him bent over her like that was just a teaser of what was going to unfold later and it already has her mind spinning. She can only imagine how much of a mess he’s going to leave her when there’s no clothes restraining them.

“Thanks.” She whispers, playing with the tips of her fingers.

“No need to thank me. Just wanna keep that pretty face in one piece.” 

He plops one hand on the steering wheel as he shifts into reverse, carefully backing out of his spot. His arm ducks behind her seat, head turning and veins chiseling into his neck. It takes all of Y/N’s willpower not to lean up and begin to darken his tanned skin with hickeys. 

Harry cruises up to the exit of the club parking lot, waiting impatiently for the turn signal, digits tapping away at the leather below them. Y/N can see him throwing pained little glances at her from her peripheral vision, obviously restless to feel her skin sliding against his. Each look causes the warmth between her thighs to swell. 

She’s talking before she can stop herself, voice bashful and soft as ever, yet full of boldness from the liquor she’d consumed. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to do something to you that’s gonna get us both killed.”

The tapping of his fingers halts and he cranes his head to face her fully, ignoring the flashing green arrow on the stoplight before them. 

Harry reaches over the center console, his nose dragging up the length of her cheekbone, causing her to squeak out a tiny whimper at the feathery sensation. It’s the first time tonight he’s touched her so intimately. 

The sentence he grits out next makes her entire body visibly shutter, his breath hot against her ear, damp lips smearing over her jaw as his oath burns into her flesh.

“And if you say something like that to me again, I promise you I’ll pull this car over and make you eat every fucking word.” 

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Hi there!

I finally have an idea for the sequel to the angst! By the way, it really did help. Less strong emotions :D

Anyways, idea. Woot woot-

Wels, as a kind of revenge for the death of Hels, wants to save some other helsmits from the world that is Hels. Because it sucks there. He ends up secluding himself from the server to try this. When somebody goes to check on him, they find an obsidian portal frame with a firey red portal contained within. Queue Wels and another Helsmit conveniently coming through, and Wels having to quickly explain before the Hermit tells X-

this is a long boi!!! lol

first part here

...

This is it. This is the moment Wels has been waiting for. After weeks of hiding out in his house, doing experiment after experiment, he’s finally managed to create a portal directly to Helscraft. Now he can finally start on his mission.

He steps through the portal and finds himself facing a bridge across a gigantic ravine with lava at the bottom. On the other side is a mountain made of netherrack and magma blocks, some of which are on fire.

Shivering, he crosses the bridge slowly, one step at a time, keeping a wary eye out for any helsmits around. There doesn’t seem to be any.

Until he steps off the bridge, glances up, and happens to spot a familiar person sitting in a “tree” made of soul sand and bone blocks. Familiar except red eyes, red streaks in his hair, a much shorter stature, and black-and-magenta dragon-like wings.

“Hi,” he says cautiously.

“Helsknight…?” The person narrows their eyes. “Why do you look different?”

“I’m not Helsknight, I’m his hermit counterpart.”

The helsmit blinks in surprise. “Welsknight? What are you doing here in Helscraft?”

“Are you Grian’s helsmit?” asks Wels, avoiding the question.

“...surely you can tell,” the helsmit scoffs. “Yeah, I’m Xelqua, Grian’s helsmit. Why’re you here? Where’s Helsknight?”

Again, Wels tries to avoid the question. “Were you… close to Helsknight?”

“Not really.” Xelqua again narrows his eyes. “What do you mean by that? Where IS he?”

“He’s…” Wels hesitates and bows his head. “I’m really sorry, but he… he passed away.”

He hears a sharp intake of breath from Xelqua.

“I’m sorry,” he says uselessly.

“Why are you here?”

Wels looks back up at Xelqua. “What?”

“WHY ARE YOU HERE?” demands Xelqua loudly. “What, is it not enough that we exist here in this HELLISH place?! You wanna come here and take it over too?! Drive us out AGAIN?!”

“I- No!” Wels hurriedly shakes his head. “No no no! I came here to invite you back to Hermitcraft.”

A flash of shock flickers over Xelqua’s face. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because Helsknight wanted all of you to be free. He sacrificed himself for me, so I’m carrying on his dream.” Wels offers his hand to the helsmit. “Xelqua, come with me to Hermitcraft. I can get you a better life there.”

“Wow.” Xelqua appears not to know how to react to this unexpected offer. “What do you get in return?”

“Nothing.”

Xelqua rolls his eyes. “SURE.”

“No, really,” Wels insists. “I want to help you, all of you. I’m not asking for anything in return. I just want you guys to have a better life.”

Xelqua regards Wels with a half-suspicious look. “Why me, of all the helsmits?”

“I want to save all of you at some point. You seem like a good place to start.”

The helsmit doesn’t appear to have a response to this.

“Please, Xelqua,” says Wels softly. “Give me a chance.”

Xelqua is silent for a while as he processes this in his head. Finally, he says, “Okay. I won’t turn down a chance to go to Hermitcraft.”

Wels can’t help an excited smile. “Great! You won’t regret it.”

When Xelqua hops down from the “tree”, Wels is surprised to discover that the helsmit is only just half his height. The height of a child, despite looking almost exactly like Grian.

“Okay, come this way,” he says.

He leads Xelqua back down the bridge and over to the portal. “Will you be able to come through?” he asks.

“I dunno, you’re the brainiac hermit,” Xelqua responds. “Will I die if I go through?”

“Not inherently, but…”

Xelqua shrugs. “Whatever. Death is better than another day in Helscraft anyway. YOLO.”

Wels blinks as Xelqua steps through the portal. Did he just say… YOLO?!

He hurriedly follows Xelqua. As soon as he steps foot in his house on the other side, however, he sees Xelqua frozen on the platform. When he steps forward, he sees why.

One of his friends is standing at the bottom of the staircase, staring at him in shock and horror.

Wels blinks, his heart starting to pound. “...J-Jevin. Hi. You’re in my house.”

“Of course I’m in your dang house, Wels!” snaps Jevin. “You haven’t been seen on the server for WEEKS! And now you come out of a demonic nether portal with a DEMON?!”

Wels quickly pushes Xelqua behind him. “He’s not a demon, Jev. His name is Xelqua. He’s Grian’s helsmit.”

Jevin’s eyes widen and he steps back.

Wels sees his friend’s muscles bunching. “Jev, no…!”

Jevin takes another step back.

“JEV.”

“Somehow a demon would have been BETTER!” yells Jevin, before taking off running.

Wels sprints after him. He’s a lot faster than Jevin so he’s able to tackle his friend to the ground at the top of the stairs.

“Jev, wait!” Wels grunts, trying to hold his squirming friend down. “Hear me out!”

“Are you INSANE?!” Jevin shrieks back. “WHY would you bring a helsmit here?!”

As Wels is about to respond, a dry voice comes from behind them. “Now I know why you said you wanted to avoid this guy, Wels.”

Wels twists his head upwards to find Xelqua standing over them, arms folded. “I didn’t say-.”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” demands Jevin, disentangling himself from Wels.

The hint of a smirk is visible on Xelqua’s face. “He said you were pretty close-minded and quick to jump to conclusions.”

“I never said-!”

Wels is cut off as Jevin jumps to his feet and jabs his finger at Xelqua. “You shut your mouth. You’re not even supposed to be here!”

“I’m not the one judging someone I just met based on their nature of birth, Slime Face,” retorts Xelqua.

“If you call me that again, I’m gonna ram my fist in your eye,” Jevin growls.

Xelqua lifts his chin challengingly. “Go for it. I’m not afraid to fight an old man.”

As Jevin moves suddenly, Wels gets between them and holds his friend back. “Okay, STOP it! Both of you! Jev, be the bigger person here.”

“I AM the bigger person!” Jevin snaps back. “Literally!”

“Wow, a short joke,” Xelqua says expressionlessly. “Original. You proud of that one, Slime Face? You feel funny? Clever?”

Jevin’s hands curl into fists. “Wels, you better explain yourself before I punt this obnoxious kid straight into the goddamn sun.”

“Your stupid slimey foot would go right through me,” Xelqua responds immediately.

“Right, that’s it.”

Wels has to strain against Jevin to stop his friend from physically attacking Xelqua. “JEVIN. STOP.”

“Explain yourself, then!”

Wels quickly draws Jevin aside into the next room. “Look.” He takes a deep breath. “I spent months befriending my helsmit, learning about how he dreamt of freeing his siblings from their torturous existence, only for him to die before even being able to start on his dream. Helsmits aren’t inherently evil, Jev. Helsknight grew as a person right in front of me. With the right environment and people surrounding them, they can become good.”

He pauses, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Even if I can only change one helsmit’s life for the better then maybe Helsknight’s death didn’t have to be meaningless.”

Jevin gazes back at him, an odd expression on his face.

“Just…” Wels sighs quietly. “Please don’t tell Xisuma until I’m ready. If he finds out about this before Xelqua makes any noticeable improvements, he’ll have him thrown back to Helscraft and all this will be for nothing. Helsknight’s dream can’t die like that. I can’t… I can’t lose him all over again.”

A short pause follows his words.

Finally, Jevin unfolds his arms and says, “Okay. How can I help?”

“By not treating me like a stupid kid,” comes Xelqua’s voice.

Jevin turns to find the helsmit poking his head through the doorway. “Wasn’t talking to you, Parrot Boy.”

“I’m not a parrot,” Xelqua says. “I’m a dragon.”

“Sure.”

Scowling, Xelqua extends his jet black and magenta wings. “My wings are dragon wings.”

“Whatever you say, Parrot Boy.”

Xelqua glares at him and doesn’t respond.

Jevin raises an eyebrow. “Nicknames hurt, huh?”

“Jev,” sighs Wels. “You’re the adult here.”

“Why AM I the adult here?” Jevin demands. “If he’s Grian’s helsmit, why is he still a kid?”

Xelqua stomps his foot. “I’m not a kid!”

Ignoring him, Wels replies, “Helsmits are only born once a person becomes a hermit. Grian’s only been a hermit for a few years, so Xelqua hasn’t had a chance to grow up yet.”

“Hey, I’m PERFECTLY grown up!” snaps Xelqua. “I already know how to kill things without spilling much blood and how to steal stuff from a chest from right under someone’s nose.”

Wels and Jevin exchange a slightly concerned look.

“But you never had a normal childhood?” asks Jevin.

“I’M NOT A CHILD!” yells Xelqua angrily.

Jevin persists: “Have you ever even seen grass?”

Xelqua scowls. “...what’s grass?”

“Okay…” Jevin pauses for a moment. “Come up this way.”

As he goes to the door, Wels starts to speak: “Jev-.”

“I’ll be careful,” says Jevin reassuringly. “Come on, kid.”

Clearly deciding not to argue anymore, Xelqua follows Jevin out of the house. As soon as he gets outside, he glances up and immediately jumps almost a foot in the air. “What is that?!”

Jevin quickly identifies where he’s looking. “The sun.”

“That’s not the sun,” scoffs Xelqua.

“It is.”

Xelqua shields his eyes from the sunlight and squints up at the sky. “But it’s not hurting my skin.”

“It will if you stay out in it too long.” Jevin pauses. “Why, what’s your sun like?”

“Volatile,” Xelqua responds. “If it’s in a bad mood, it’ll set you on fire as soon as you step out in it. Which is almost every day.”

Jevin blinks. “Your sun is sentient?”

“Trust me, that’s not the weirdest thing that’s sentient in Helscraft.”

“Do I wanna ask?”

“Nope.” Xelqua lowers his hand. “So what’s this grass thing you mentioned?”

Jevin gestures at the ground. “What you’re standing on.”

“Really? This is grass?” Xelqua hops up and down on it a few times. “I thought it’d be a bit more interesting.”

“Lie down on it.”

Xelqua shoots him a suspicious look. “Why?”

“Just do it.”

After a moment, Xelqua lies down flat on the grass. “Okay, now what?”

“Look up at the sky,” Jevin responds. “See those clouds?”

Xelqua frowns up at the sky. “The grey things?”

“Yeah. Do you have clouds?”

“Not like those. Ours are spikey and red and rain lava.”

“Oh jeez…” Jevin shivers. “Well, these ones won’t hurt you. Just watch them for a while.”

“Okay…”

The two fall silent. Jevin watches the clouds himself for a while, before turning back to Xelqua, whose expression is almost completely blank. “So?”

“Weirdly, this is nice,” admits Xelqua. “It’s a bizarre concept to not be afraid of every single thing around me.” As if on cue, a few raindrops start to fall from the sky. Xelqua hops up as the rain gets heavier and dives between Jevin’s feet, clutching Jevin’s leg tightly. “WHAT IS THIS?!” he shrieks.

“It’s just rain!” Jevin reassures him, gently stroking his wings. “Don’t worry, it’s just rain. Just water. It won’t hurt you.”

After a moment, Xelqua sticks out his hand and lets some raindrops fall on it. When it doesn’t hurt him, he carefully emerges from his shelter and hovers just above the ground, closing his eyes against the rain falling on his face. A smile appears on his face and he shoots upwards, his beating wings scattering raindrops everywhere.

Shielding his eyes from the rain, Jevin laughs as he watches Xelqua shoot up through the clouds and dive back down several times. It’s like watching a foal discover how to run for the first time.

“How’s it going out here?” asks Wels, emerging from the building. Immediately, he lifts his arms to shield his head from the rain. “Oh! It doesn’t rain often on this server.”

Jevin continues to gaze up at Xelqua far above him. “...Wels?”

“Yeah?”

“This kid really needs a better life.”

Wels nods. “He does. They all do. This is what Helsknight wanted: for the helsmits to have the same opportunities as us. The same expansive resource-rich world to explore, not the barren hellscape they’re forced to live in year after year. To be able to live and grow without worrying about being robbed or hurt or attacked or murdered by the world and people around them. They have so much potential that’s not being realised because they’re stuck in literal hell. I won’t rest until they’re all as free as Helsknight almost was.”

After a brief pause, he glances over at Jevin and finds his friend smiling at him. He chuckles. “What’s that look for?”

“I’ve never seen you this passionate before,” says Jevin softly. “It’s nice.”

“It IS nice,” Wels agrees. “I haven’t had a cause like this to fight for in a long time.”

Jevin pats his friend on the shoulder. “If you ever need help with Xelqua, lemme know.”

Wels glances at him in surprise. “You want to help with Xelqua?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

“Why?”

As Jevin starts to respond, Xelqua suddenly lands on the ground in front of them, soaking wet. “What are you two nattering about?” he demands. “Come fly up here with me!”

“We can’t fly when it’s raining this heavily, Xelqua,” responds Wels. “It’s too wet for our elytras to work properly.”

“Oh.” Xelqua rolls his eyes. “You guys are lame.”

Wels raises an eyebrow back. “Mhm.”

As Xelqua takes off again, Jevin says, “To answer your question Wels, I want to help because I can tell Xelqua has the potential to be a good kid. He’s got some problems I wanna help iron out.”

“Wow, I…” Wels smiles gratefully. “I’d love the help. Thank you.”

At that moment, Xelqua reappears through the rain and holds out a shovel to the two. “I stole this from a chest in that guy’s house over there,” he says proudly. “He didn’t see me.”

“That’d be Beef’s house,” Wels sighs.

As Wels reaches for the shovel, Xelqua sharply steps back, hugging the shovel protectively.

Wels shakes his head. “You don’t have to steal things here, Xelqua. We’ll help you get your own stuff.”

“Oh…” Xelqua reluctantly relinquishes his prize to Wels.

“Thank you,” says Wels gently. “Do you want your own shovel?”

After a moment, Xelqua nods.

Wels smiles, feeling strong paternal instincts towards the kid.

“Okay, let’s get you a shovel.”

[my-darling-boy]

Right sorry I have to vent about something. I didn’t really want to post this but Oh Well it’s bothering me and I hope I’m not the only one who feels like this.

What I thought was me obsessing over a little mistake I made at work was actually the tip of the iceberg to this terror I feel internally realising as I get older, I’m required by society to mask my autism more and more because they see you as an inconvenience. But now that I’ve created this Highly Socially Convenient version of myself to fit into other people’s social standards, especially in the workplace, I can no longer make mistakes without people attributing them to laziness or carelessness or “stupidity”. It’s one of the many examples of people assuming “if I can’t see something, it doesn’t exist.” I’m constantly assessed with the “but you don’t LOOK autistic!” You shouldn’t have to know I’m autistic to start treating me with more care and respect.

If a customer is having trouble with the keypad, I don’t rip the thing around and jam their card in, annoyed. If a customer can’t hear me very well, I don’t roll my eyes when I have to repeat myself. If a coworker doesn’t understand how to use a register function, I don’t sigh heavily and shove them aside to fix it. Everyone is always apologising for making mistakes with their payment options or having to run back cos they forgot something or for “taking so long” or for doing this or that. People are sweating hurriedly counting out coins and notes and apologising but you don’t need to hurry! Take your time!! My line might be long but I know when I rush counting money, I get it wrong cos I can’t focus sometimes in chaotic, loud environments.

I’m so used to apologising for things I do as an autistic person and when I see others doing the same, I say they don’t have to be sorry. The checkstands are not easily accessible to understand or operate. People are rude and rushing. We’re wearing masks so it’s harder to hear/see facial expressions. Literally none of this is person’s fault, and yet they’re apologising like the checkstand or their communication style or even the angry customers behind them are their fault. And I do the same thing. The one thing I say ALL DAY LONG is “I’m sorry.” I say it so often that half the time I’m not even sure why I’m apologising, all I know is things that are out of my control are usually pinned as “my fault” somehow so I just say I’m sorry all the time. I’m apologising, the customer is apologising, my coworker is apologising, we’re all just so sorry for having to be in a building that isn’t meant to accommodate anyone.

Most of my interactions at work involve me making sure I’m being as accommodating as I can to who I’m speaking with because rarely are people accommodating towards me and I don’t want to make others feel like they’re an inconvenience the way I’ve been made to feel like one. I know by default that something that is easy for one person may not be easy for another person. And if an allistic person cares to think about this at all, it’s so bizarre to me that they assume it means a person is careless, lazy, or irresponsible.

I work retail and talking to people is literally my job, but it’s usually not an issue so long as they fit a social script in my head. Tasks are repetitive which means I learn them fast and perform them fast. When left alone, I resort to tasks I was shown how to do: clean, collect, etc. I follow instructions, ask questions. I’m always told I’m such a “competent, responsible employee” for this, even though 80% of my motivation for doing these things are out of constant fear of hidden consequences if I don’t do exactly as I’m told. And if someone starts saying I’m their favourite closer or the fastest cashier or the most helpful employee, I only get nervous about how disappointed this person would be in me if I showed any ounce of something different if one day I had a shutdown at work.

I wouldn’t know how to tell anyone why sometimes I’m a minute late to work for a few days, or why I lost track of time doing X, why X took me so long, why suddenly I don’t make a lot of conversation, why I suddenly lose ability to multitask, or why I keep making silly little mistakes when I “seem like such a good employee who can stay on top of things.” Sometimes I genuinely don’t know if I’ve done something wrong! There are grey areas of employment and social interaction that will always confuse me no matter what. Instead of taking just a moment to explain something I did incorrectly, or just take 10 seconds to show me how to do something, people right away are predisposed to snapping at you and being rude without so much as a little explaination to help you. And if they’re going to snap at me for a small question, how could I ever bring up something more? When? How? When a customer I’m not understanding is giving me a hard time, do I give into them and give them the discount they wanted and possibly get in trouble or do I call over a manager who is going to scold me for not understanding them?

There doesn’t seem to be a lot of space to discuss being autistic to anyone or time to dismantle stereotypes. I feel like I have to keep putting on a presentation and suppressing parts of myself or force myself to conform to allistic standards that make me uncomfortable while allistic people would never think about accommodating mine. I’ve heard so much offensive language towards autsitic people from basic team members, management, and customers at every job I’ve ever been at. And when something like that is THAT widespread and ingrained to how these people think, where and how do you even begin to address it? Who do you talk to? Who’s to say the person meant to handle these things at work isn’t making R word jokes minutes later?

Every job I get hired at assures me that I will be treated fairly, to the same standard as other employees. But to me, there seems to be something Off about fairness when it comes to performance. The problem is, the model of that standard is often a person who is not autsitic. I see it in the way supervisors walk up to me when I can’t get something to scan. I see it in the way they squint accusingly at me behind their mask if I need something explained more. I see it in the way coworkers have attributed their “stupid mistakes” to being “the r word”. They critisise lack of verbal communication or eye contact, they sigh when things need to be phrased differently, they stand impatiently while you’re trying to figure something out. In the break room, I hear people left and right laughing about or getting irritated over customers who are described as doing some of the things I do. I’ll always remember this one really nice customer who always came into the store and would put her items up on the counter slowly and would talk to you about her day, and I never had a problem with the speed at which she did anything because why would I? I don’t need to rush her, there’s no reason to. But a manager, after she had left one time, mimicked the way she spoke and said she was “the r word”. And I felt crushed.

No matter what a company says, in their eyes, we’re made to feel like the undesired. The inconvenience. The ones holding up lines or turning on the assistance blinkers at checkstands. There shouldn’t be people steaming behind us or snapping to go faster or shouting “Why don’t you understand?? Are you stupid??” I’ve found the discrimation against autsitic people in the workplace is a lot of times in subtlety, and to me it feels like what is being done to me isn’t noticable at first until I realise it’s eating away at me: the glares, the exaggerated sighs, the comments, the derogatory language. I always feel like someone standing outside a window while everyone else is on the inside. That’s what makes this type of treatment so insidious, because convenient for companies, they don’t have anything in their handbooks that protects me from their deeply imbedded practice of equating many traits of my autism with being an unsatisfactory employee. And usually by the time I’ve picked up on it, it’s too widespread for me to even sort out all that’s happened and I’m left feeling like I should just bear it. “Well then the job isn’t meant for you” someone might say. No, capitalist society doesn’t make room for people like me. In fact, I’ve never encountered a job that was meant for me. And I’m tired of having to say I’m sorry for myself and bend over backwards for capitalist “”””we’re a family”””” corporations and the society they’ve infected whom they’ve taught to not give two shits about people like me.

[westwingwolf]

In this post, I go into a long, defensive character/ship study for reflection after New Blood so for the sake of not clogging the tag and anyone who doesn’t want to see it or doesn’t want to be spoiled, it’s under the cut.

I think if you are looking for Tim to apologize for some of those early days, you are going to be disappointed. At least for a while. Because Tim sees a lot of what he did as practical training methods he’d use on any other rookie. Whether that’s right or wrong in your opinion, doesn’t matter. It’s how Tim sees it and therefore how the writers intend for him to see it. For all else, any time Tim crossed a line: he was called out, acknowledged it himself, apologized and/or thanked Lucy for her help.

A lot of those things were what Tim was going to do to any rookie if he thought that was the type of training the rookie needed. Tim says he is a show type of guy. He isn’t just going to tell a rookie the wrong or right method. He is going to create a scenario in which they learn it the hard way but in a safe, controlled environment. He was going to kick Jackson out of the car if he got the answer wrong, but Jackson got it right. And when he realized Jackson needed a different type of training to help him get over his fear of gunfire or quit or else Angela would get fired, he changed his tactics. And both times literally end up saving his own life. Lucy knew exactly where she was when she radioed that Tim had been shot. Jackson ran down the armed guy shooting at Tim because Tim said if he couldn’t get into the fight to stay in the car, so Jackson found a way around that.

The way Lucy words it, it doesn’t sound like she believes that Tim tormented her all through the job. Just that first day (well, and the second but I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt that those first 2 shifts can be treated like a first day) and some time after. Because the next thing she mentioned as a month later is the bathroom incident. That happened the day Tim came back to work after being shot. In between time which she spent an entire shift with Officer Wrigley(?) who was nice and treated her like a rockstar, and was boring because he wouldn’t take interesting calls. She is stuck with that until Tim questions if she is just going to let a criminal get away when she can do something about it. She called him a pain in her ass which he responded was the job. In that moment you can see that Lucy is not going to back down, and that Tim sees this as how to best train her. Their reactions of each other shows a mutual understanding of the other and the start of an acceptance. And maybe Tim does torment Lucy a little all through the job just to keep her on her toes.

As to the bathroom incident: in Amber, Harper made a point of saying how important it is to find a proper bathroom so that’s obviously something they teach at the academy or veterans learn through experience. And Lucy knew to secure the bathroom which she did. Just not enough. And Tim knew that would probably happen so he took advantage of that. Just as he would if any other rookie who needed that type of training had done that. This happened before he got the call about Isabel. The things he did after, intentionally starting a fight with the biker gang, that was out of line because he was upset about Isabel. And Lucy called him out on that. Just as she has done every time since Tim has stepped over the line.

I don’t believe Lucy actually gets triggered when she walks into a shoe store. Exaggeration to prove a point through humor. I laughed anyways. Especially since I’m sure the things that actually trigger Lucy are more like complete darkness and locked in confined, tight places. Does he say boot more than anyone else? Yes. Does that change depending on the outward image Tim is trying to convey? Also yes. The hardass Tim was those first few days/weeks/months (depending on which timeline we are going with) is not who he truly is. And Lucy knows that. She sticks up for him more than anyone. She calls him out on his shit, but also reminds him he is a good person. That side of him only comes back out when he truly fears not being tough will cause a setback. Such as when he yelled at her for having something in her gun hand other than her gun after Chris was shot and his TO pointed out that he told him how to proceed and his rookie didn’t listen. And Lucy wasn’t even mad at Tim about that because by then she knows him and what he is like. All her anger was at Emmett for stepping in where he shouldn’t. Because Lucy can handle herself, and she can handle Tim. Which Tim knows perfectly well and has said so. If Lucy was truly so upset by all that Tim has done, she wouldn’t insist that they are friends. Yes, she was eager to get out of training, but she also took the time to ensure that they had proper acknowledgment as to the closure of her training. And an acceptance that they would be friends from this point on was admitted by both of them in that “see you tomorrow.”

I’ll grant you the lessons can go overboard, but they actually work. When Lucy was in that bomber’s house after he set a bomb, she told Harper to get clear of the house and radio for help. Why? Because she learned that radio frequencies can sometimes set off bombs. She never forgot that lesson. And used it as payback for Tim later so double bonus.

So here is where Lucy can differ from any other rookie trained the same way by Tim. She learned those lessons and remembers them later when she is more or less by herself. It’s not just something that can be told and hope you remember when the necessary time comes. It is something lived through experience, again in a safer and more controlled environment, that she remembers. Maybe not all rookies would, but she did. And where she differs is how she gets Tim back anytime she feels he needs payback: stealing his money clip, giving him her bar tab as an evaluation, giving him his own powder bomb, etc. Things no other rookie would dare try, and he lets her get away with it. Because I think he actually likes that he found someone who can match his diabolical ways. Honestly, if these two weren’t such good people at heart, they’d pair up to be the world’s greatest supervillains.

Jackson called Lucy out on why would she want Tim to torment someone else if she hated how he treated her. So either she didn’t have that big of a problem with it or she doesn’t like the implication that it was something wrong about her that Tim felt warranted that kind of treatment. Yes, Lucy needs praise. She has always needed praise. Especially from authority figures. (Yes, I know the implications of that from a shipping POV, but if you are already shipping Chenford, you’re either ignoring it or waiting until it’s no longer an issue or both.) It’s clear from her relationship with her parents that she at first tried to get it from them. That’s why she studied psychology. To please them. And once she found what she wanted and stuck with it, she thought they’d be happy for her and she’d get that praise but she didn’t. She is still looking for it in her life. So she looks at this situation as there must have been something wrong with her and somehow the new rookie is better. Which Tim disproves. It wasn’t about her being less than; it’s about her being different and needing different training tactics. And her differences are actually things Lucy values, and Tim values too (clearly as he is tried to get Barnes to see policing as helping people and not as engaging enemy combatants. Plus take a look at how Tim treats people in the community even ones he previously arrested. He still tries to help them.) But Tim recognizes Lucy also needed a different perspective even if her perspective still ultimately wins out. Which Lucy acknowledges in Resolutions. She still chooses to be a cop in her own way. She still values empathy and compassion first and foremost. Seeing the world as the scary place it can be just rounds out her perspective, but it doesn’t overwhelm it. And Tim stopped pushing that perspective after Lucy found out just how scary the world can be. Because Lucy has been though all of that, gained perspective but still stayed true to herself, she is a good cop. Again, something Tim acknowledged. He disavowed her of the idea that she was somehow less, explained his position, and complimented her with probably the highest compliment he could give someone: the respect of being a good cop.

That difference in how Tim & Lucy approach things is what made them such a great partnership. Tim sees things with suspicion first, compassion second. While Lucy is compassion first, suspicion second. They both quickly adapt to either, but also help the other with finding the necessary POV. So they hardly ever miss anything because if one doesn’t see it, the other will. They are complimentary but not so stubborn in their own initial POVs that they force the issue making things worse. If one is passionate in their belief, the other will follow their decision.

So here is my point: whatever they went through before, good and bad, does not have a drastic effect on discouraging their friendship (and possibly romantic relationship). All of that is more or less fond (okay not so fond) memories. They understand each other, have forgiven each other (Lucy more than Tim because Tim crossed more lines), accepted their faults, encouraged each other, acknowledged each other, and basically formed a lasting bond that is more than TO/rookie and even more than most friendships can be lucky to have. Perhaps even more than most romantic relationships get. And frankly, holding any past mistakes over each other’s head to the point of disgruntlement would not lead to a healthy relationship. Which is why I don’t think Lucy truly holds what Tim did against him. I think it was as it appeared: wondering why the new rookie was treated differently and if that is a reflection on her. Which it wasn’t in any negative way. But to make her point about the differences, Lucy had to list the ways Tim handled everything in their early days. And to make his point, Tim clearly explains the differences and what necessitates that difference. An apology for any of that would negate the point he was making. If Lucy was truly upset in any lasting way, she wouldn’t have immediately worried about Barnes, and she wouldn’t have been so happy at Tim’s compliment.

Will Tim ever apologize for the early days? Maybe. Maybe not. Does he need to? I don’t think so. Not for me anyways. Because Tim is a show me type of guy, and he has shown Lucy in so many ways how much he values her. And Lucy has shown that that means more to her than anything.

[hournites]

Charles mcnider was a literal doctor. Even in the comics the third midnite (Pietre cross) was more of support then active field member. He saved their lives so many times because of his medical knowledge and abilities. (There was even that great story in which the villain was holding people hostage unless midnite could rumor a tumor from his grandfather.) The problem with Beths character is that the need to make her the same age as the others robbed us of seeing a black, female doctor fighting crime. Honestly she should have been older (she could have been a prodigy or something. Maybe even 25 because there are 7 year college and med school programs. The she could have been a first year resident when the show started). But the Beth we got doesn’t actually do anything on her own. It’s the goggles. At the very least, Courtney, Rick, and Yolanda all bring something more to the tools they have. I just hope that we get an explanation on how beth got the goggles back online that explains her sudden ability with that kind of tech and then we can explore like an oracle side to her.

I understand what you're saying and where you are coming from, I do. But I don't think it's fair or accurate to say Beth has not actually done anything on her own. On her own, the JSA exists.

From her debut Dr. Mid-Nite episode in 1x05, it establishes narratively that Beth is useful to the team at that point in the same way it was established Artemis was not. Beth is a communicator, a mediator, and without her, there would have been no Rick on team JSA. With Beth, there is no more source of income from the ISA. All of the decisions she's made are her own. The goggles never told her what to do, merely gave contexts and provided assistance when prompted. The goggles never told her she should make the move to donate all of the Gambler's money to charities. They never told her she needed to investigate Cindy Burman's house. Honestly, I don't even think the other kids could handle the multitasking ability required to handle the goggles with Chuck. It's a sensory overload if not managed properly, and she's still keeping up with the rest. It takes intelligence, determination and bravery to put herself in such a position in light of her limitations.

A high school student who has rarely ever paid attention in class cracking a master chemist's equations in the span of two months is no more believable than a lonely girl with an above perfect GPA to teach herself coding/soft engineering over 6 months.

Also, while I am pretty sure Beth is likely to go into medicine and become a doctor, a doctor is not what a hero makes. Beth earning credentials is not going to suddenly validate her position on the team. I love comic!Beth treating Henry Jr. and rushing out to help the both the wounded JSA and villains they come across. She's awesome and I felt SO happy reading comics with her because Beth Chapel truly was a hidden inspiration of her era. But our Beth has compassion and empathy and from what we see again and again, I see Comic!Beth developing through our Beth that we know.

The girl wants to fight. Why can't we let her?

Absolutely, Beth needs to train more and learn to be comfortable combatting, and this season is the time and place for her to do it. She has Hourman watching her back as a defence, and is entering an environment where she may become the only JSA member with a full visibility to see what is going on in the dark.

Beth is only going to grow up. She's going to get older and more experienced just like the rest. We can speculate she'll develop an interest as a team medic but at the end of the day it doesn't exactly matter with where she is right now. Right now, Beth hasn't even had that much character room to grow. But it's nitpicking to fault her for this. She didn't get her own full episode, she didn't get her own training montage or special instructions from Pat. Anj has said Beth goes through tremendous character growth this season, and I believe it based on what we are already starting to see. Let's give this 16 year old a chance and come back at the end of the season.

[marcspectrr]

A word or two on Kiara's mental health...

Before I attempt to summarize the 39 page slideshow living rent free in my brain, a preface! This will include spoilers for s2, as well as a few mentions of suicidal thoughts! Also. I love Kiara Carrera with all of my heart so if you're not a fan of her, you might wanna keep scrolling. If you don't vibe with her that's perfectly fine, but this post is heavy with Kiara appreciation, be warned, my respect for her runs deep. The choice is yours, of course, just understand that I'm writing this bc @yellowlaboratory among others have encouraged me to get it out there because it's all I've been thinking about since I watched s2. This is not to start anything.

(This is also not me hating on Pope because I genuinely like his character, he's just made some very questionable choices throughout the show, some I can forgive and some that still don't sit right with me.)

Deep breath, here we go.

It's no secret Kiara has been poorly handled by the writers and therefore the characters at times. We got little development in s1 compared to other main male characters, leaving us to fill in the gaps as far as her ambitions, motivations, family, overall interest in the boys, etc. While I do keep this in mind, I could rant about it for days so for this I'm going off of what we have as well as what's been implied.

Kiara didn't have the same upbringing as the boys but it's clear the Carrera's had/have their struggles. She's got her foot in both worlds, not quite 'rich' but not entirely 'poor', inevitably giving her a fragile sense of belonging and identity. 16 is a hard age even without societal pressures and growing up in a classist environment, but here is where we're assuming the boys come in. They give her a place to feel comfortable in her own skin, with shared interests and accepting her for who she is, which we know the kooks don't provide. Just being around them helps ease those deep insecurities, helps her form meaningful bonds. We weren't given an explicit scene where this was shown but over the course of the two seasons it's clear how she feels about them and what they do for her mentally.

Her relationship with the pogues, however, puts a rift between her and her parents. Mike and Anna clearly want what's best for Kie but it's also obvious they've struggled with her even before the pogues. Anna wants Kiara to have the things she never got growing up, breeding a disconnect since Kiara doesn't share in her mother's interests. This leads into my biggest problem with Kiara's arc in s2, which was how Anna and Mike were written. 

Yes, Kiara didn't/doesn't treat them the best but it went both ways -- they all failed at communicating. Instead of finding a common ground and compensating for the things Kiara cares about, Anna shuts her down and ignores her, leaving her to feel like a problem rather than a person, further perpetuating even less healthy communication. Kiara even says in s2 that's why she doesn't like going home, because it always means walking into an argument and not feeling accepted.

I sorta expected a little more understanding from Anna considering her own background with pogues but instead it backfired. And Mike...he didn't contribute much at all. They could've all done better and need some work. Kiara could be more grateful and Anna and Mike are the parents, the adults, they need to make the space feel safe to talk. Kie didn't just wake up one day and decide to act out and keep her parents in the dark all the time, that stems from not feeling listened to when she does try and open up.

Expanding on this with...the whole Blue Ridge plot. Moment of silence for the show neglecting to acknowledge the academy,  even though it clearly had a big impact on Kiara's life. In s1 we got a brief look into how her 'kook year' affected her and it was not good. More isolation, blurred identity, insecurity and this time suicidal thoughts, with no one to turn to for support, assuming she was not on good terms with her parents then either. I'm assuming this because for them to send her to the academy, hoping to give her better opportunities only for it to end with her wanting to cut her wrists, to then thinking the best option is to send her away again? At this point I hope they didn’t know how badly the academy affected her because sending her away a second time with that knowledge is such a hurtful and oblivious move.

Kiara already thinks her parents see her as a burden, hurting her sense of worth as is. I really wanted to like the Carrera's and I still feel like they genuinely love and care for Kie, I just need to see more communication maybe. And if they choose to include the Blue Ridge plot, which I'm leaning towards yes on that one, I hope it's handled somewhat well, preferably not a tool to create drama even though I know a lot of people want to see it be used that way. I'm very particular, I'm sorry I'm this way.

Things I've seen her being criticized for in s2 is her behavior. The thing that people have to remember is that she's 16 and teenagers are just not the best with navigating their emotions. She made questionable choices (the 'murderer' thing and 'abusing' Pope) but these are both things that fit the plot and her character. She was by no means the only one grieving so I don't know why she's being targeted for it (although I'm not surprised, the fandom treats her horribly). Some of her core characteristics are her high moral integrity as well as her headstrong belief in people and causes. She's never been one to make herself palatable for people and s2 shows a lot of this (calling out the Cameron's, going off in front of the court, etc). Even if it caused them problems and even if they are flaws, that doesn't make her an inherently intolerable character, it makes her realistic. She was not in a good place emotionally and it would've been wrong to shy away from depicting it any other way, especially in a show where the teenage experience is decently represented.

Now with the Pope thing. I think it was handled as well as it could've been considering the circumstances. It really should've never happened but to justify it, emotions are messy, relationships even messier and they were both spiraling at the end of s1. I don't agree with the way it started (why give Kie the line of literally telling him she wanted something different only to show them together next episode, I'm forever confused) but I'm not mad about how it ended. They were both in the wrong at times so only bringing up Kie's faults is just unfair.

I believe they both tried their best and even wanted to feel the right things but learned quickly that's not exactly how it works, which was how it was supposed to be shown. Not as this romanticized, idealistic healthy relationship but as one that has its bumps and was bred out of all the wrong things. All of their body language pointed towards this. Pope didn't deserve to be hurt but Kie clearly didn't intend for things to turn out how they did. She wasn't mentally comfortable enough for a relationship and I can appreciate them showing this in the ways the writers framed it. Even the conversation with Kie describing their night on the beach, I think it was perfect. It was awkward but it was honest, which is so important.

Overall, I think Kiara's gone through a lot mentally that the show could be better at exploring. It doesn't have to be big, obvious lingering shots, they can be subtle and still mean so much to people who relate to her. Seeing someone on screen grapple with real life struggles (even if the show walks a painfully fine line as far as realism), it means a lot. Especially when mental health (more prominent than ever) is so rarely portrayed to translate in any significant way in media now. It's definitely something I would love to see get more time and effort so until then, just know I'll be manifesting the screen time Kiara Carrera deserves.

[absolutepokemontrash]

ayo!! congrats on 666 <33 I'm not sure if its much of a request but I love how you wrote the demon kids personalities! I was wondering what kids of personalities you would see the other brothers kids having? Hypothetically of course (unless 👀)

BRO- I’ve actually been thinking about this for a while! Fan kids are fun to think about, what can I say? Now, these kids aren’t canon to the Awfully Familiar series, the HOL is crowded enough as is… but I hope you enjoy anyways!

(I’m giving all the kids names just so no one gets confused with which kid is whose)

Levi’s Kid

Uh let’s use probability to figure out how rare children of our snek boy are. The Otaku left the house (unlikely), spoke to a human being (very unlikely), did the devil’s tango with them (impossible)

I’m kidding, but seriously what the fuck why did this human exchange student look so much like Levi? Was that a tail? Hehehe… what a weird practical joke…

(I’m calling this MC Percy. Three guesses as to why)

Okay, onto the kiddo’s personality. I’m picturing them being REALLY hyped and REALLY enthusiastic about their hobbies and isn’t afraid to yammer about them. They’re good at what they do and they’re damn proud of it! They turn their envy into *~inspiration~* and get better at the things they enjoy doing!

In all fairness to Levi, it’s a bit easier for his kid because Percy isn’t literally being eaten alive and consumed by this sin every waking moment of his life… perks of being half human! :D

Percy loves swimming, and the ocean, and fish, and they brought a shark back from the beach- wait hang on a second-

It’s not uncommon for Levi to be hardcore gaming while Percy swims around in the fish tank.

The pair of them have a very good relationship, Percy is kind of Levi’s hero with how eager they are to get better at the things they love doing and how they almost never self pity spiral. The one issue is… ugh… Percy is a 🤢…. Sorry. Percy’s a 🤢 🤢-

They’re A FUCKING NORMIE. THEY DON’T LIKE ANIME!

Other than that, the two get along swimmingly. (Ba dum tisssss)

Percy’s reaction to Levi’s cool military titles is basically “WOAH! YOU HAVE BOATS?! CAN I GO ON ONE?!” And Levi would be a monster to decline.

Percy wore a pirate hat despite Levi telling them numerous times that they were a part of the navy, they CATCH pirates. Which are apparently still a big problem in the Devildom…

Also, Percy and Lotan absolutely adore each other. It makes Levi very happy

Satan’s Kid

Satan’s a pretty charming guy, and it’s canon that he’s amazing at seductive speech craft so it’s no surprise that he was able to seduce a human.

You know what is a surprise? The fact that Satan, the smart one, didn’t think to use protection! Like- DUDE I EXPECTED BETTER FROM YOU.

Whatever, anyway, when this kid slammed onto the floor of the assembly hall no one had time to react when the kid suddenly grew horns… and fangs… and a tail… OH FUCK THE KID WAS GOING THROUGH THEIR FIRST TRANSFORMATION WHAT THE FUCK-

(For simplicity’s sake, I’m going to call this kid Lyssa, mainly because of the meaning of the name)

The first thing Lyssa did was launch themselves straight at the first person they saw, and I ask you to guess exactly who sits in the middle seat of the assembly hall. That’s right… Satan… yay…

This kid nearly clawed his face off in the span of two seconds and it took Lucifer and Beel working together to drag them off of him and then Asmo had to step in to use his powers to calm them down. Well. That was eventful.

So Lyssa has a volcanic temper and they’re honestly really bitter and upset at everything, which is something that’s supposed to come in adult life, not so early. So what’s up with this kid? Well, when you’re born with a burning rage deep inside you that can be set off at even the slightest inconvenience and because of that everyone around you immediately assumes you’re dangerous or crazy can really do some damage to a kid.

So who oh who is Lyssa going to blame for this…? Hmmm… who is responsible for the anger? *Side eyes Satan*

“Wow, this kid is blaming me for passing down my wrath even though I couldn’t control giving it to them and if I had the choice I would have made sure they wouldn’t have to live with it and they’re mad at me for subjecting them to existence itself… wow this feels so bad :( who would treat someone like this..?” “*Dad sigh*”

The two of them do eventually get along. It’s actually Satan who extends the olive branch and offers to help them control their anger. As the two spend time together, Lyssa’s intense hatred slowly subsides.

So… what’s Lyssa going to do now? They’ve spent so much of their life being defined by their anger… who the fuck are they????? U-uh… cats! Cats! Lyssa likes cats! Is liking cats a personality? No? Okay… um… Music! Music is relaxing! Lyssa likes music! Um… um… ooo- look at that! They like space! And stars!

You knew what they don’t like? School. Lyssa doesn’t like learning in a controlled environment where they’re being told what to learn. Leave them alone so they can go read about space.

Beelzebub’s kid(s)

*munch* *munch* *chew* *chomp* huh, *chomp* why does the takeout- I mean the human look so much like him…? They’re his kid..? *choke* *cough* *cough* …Huh. Want some chips?

Surprisingly chill first meeting. Well, Beel and the kid were chill, everyone else was freaking the fuck out.

I’m calling this kid Pepper. Why? Fucking guess.

Pepper themselves is just… chill. They’re sort of like a capybara, their vibes are just so immaculate that everyone wants to hang out around them.

Unlike Beel, Pepper’s penchant for food mainly comes from “food is good.” instead of “my body is literally eating itself alive every second of the day and I need to be eating something at almost all times in order to stave off a rampage.” Beel is very happy that his kid doesn’t have to live with food constantly on the brain.

All was well until three days into the exchange program when Pepper asked at the dinner table “so when are we bringing my twin down here?”

…twin genes man… twin genes…

Second kid, I’m calling them Cane. (CANE PEPPER, GET IT?! GET IT?!) this kid is less like a capybara and more like a honey badger. They don’t give a shit.

Here’s the thing though… they’re identical twins.

Cane is basically Beel but smaller. They follow Beel to the gym and usually get stopped at the door. “Kids aren’t allowed in the gym.” Ha, the rules don’t apply to Cane, they just cross their arms and raise their eyebrows and whoever is stopping them just steps aside. Don’t fuck with the honey badger kid.

Pepper and Cane are super close though, but don’t ask if they have a telepathic link or something, Cane will fuck you up and Pepper won’t be able to stop them. (I know a pair of identical twins, and the amount of times they’ve been asked if they can read each other’s minds is enough to make anyone homicidal)

Belphegor’s kid

*squints* how’d this happen..?

Whatever. When Belphie’s kid woke up on the floor of the assembly hall everyone took one look at this kid and collectively went “shitballs”

Belphie was in the attic and his kid was wandering around the house like they ran the place! What the fuuuuuuuuck was Lucifer supposed to do with this????

Anyway, meet Arien.

Arien, how does one describe this little hellspawn? Well, one would call them the brood of Lucifer or the spawn of Satan but that would be false because this manipulative evil devil-child that crawled straight out of a teacher’s nightmares is BELPHIE’S kid. And it fucking SHOWS.

This kid won the demon/human genetic lottery and they’re going to make it everyone’s problem. Basically, they’re sin is sloth, but unlike Belphie, Arien’s is more voluntary, if that makes sense. They sleep and slack off because they like not doing work, not because they’re always tired. They have this sort of lazy relaxed facade that vanishes the second it’s not needed, it’s honestly kind of terrifying.

They quickly learn that if they just pretend to be having troubles with being constantly tired, the rest of the house will go easy on them if they miss their chores and schoolwork.

Jeez Louise when this kid met Belphie…

They both just stared at each other for a solid five minutes before anyone said anything. Belphie somewhat nervously started up his “oh woe is me get me out of here :(“ charade, and the kid played along for a few weeks, until of course, they got suspicious.

You remember how Belphie guilt spiralled with L!MC? Yeah imagine that but 40 times worse, and he hadn’t even done anything yet.

But yeah, blah blah blah Arien breaks Belphie out, they don’t die, family’s back together, happily ever after. But not quite. Arien’s “oh no I’m sorry I’m sleepy…” charade was found out and boy howdy was everyone pissed.

Surprisingly, it was Belphie who gave Arien the wake up thwack, but Arien called Belphie out on his laziness so Belphie was forced to become a better example.

The way they fixed Ari’s behaviour? Extra chores, extra schoolwork, extra everything, and the boys did nothing to help. Basically, “this is how we felt! Deal with it!”

It worked… thankfully.

[swordlesbean]

it must have been so painful for catra to see adora leave the horde in a heartbeat when she saw them attack innocent etherians but not even notice they were abusing her best friend for years

Am I being trolled? IDK, but I’ll bite, because it’s an opportunity to really examine this from Adora's perspective, which has a history of being underrepresented in the fandom, especially for things that happened in s1.

What you describe here was very much Catra’s perception of the situation, and absolutely, it was something that was painful for her, and a lot of people have already written beautifully about it, so I’m not going to retread that ground here. But the way you constructed your statement gives me the impression you aren’t just describing how Catra perceived the situation, but rather that you agree it’s the objective truth. And if that’s the case, you’re doing Adora a real disfavor. 

First, I wouldn’t exactly say Adora left the Horde in a heartbeat. Doubts were starting to build while she was captured by Glimmer and Bow, and when she realized the attack on Thaymor wasn't an accident, it was the final piece of the puzzle. Still, that doesn't mean Catra didn’t feature in her thinking when she decided to leave. Catra was literally in front of her when she made her decision, and Catra’s seeming indifference towards the villagers was part of what pushed Adora away. I get into the Thaymor situation in way more depth here.

Second, Adora didn't ignore Catra's abuse and mistreatment. Catra had an understandably resentment-poisoned perception of the events of their childhood, but what we, the audience, objectively saw on the screen was Adora trying to leverage her position as Shadow Weaver's favorite to defuse explosive situations between Catra and Shadow Weaver, including by literally placing her body between them.

Adora physically protected Catra as best as she could. She defended Catra when Shadow Weaver talked badly about her and tried to get Shadow Weaver to recognize Catra’s talent. She comforted Catra when Catra was obviously sad or scared or angry, even when Catra lashed out. She stood with Catra against bullies, even if Catra was the one that instigated a fight. She acknowledged Catra��s skill and gave her positive reinforcement when authority figures ignored her. She had Catra's back, full stop.

But Adora had to walk a fine line in challenging Shadow Weaver, because if she fought back too much, Shadow Weaver might hurt Catra and Adora worse. We cannot undermine the fact that, Shadow Weaver's favor or not, Adora was ultimately in the same situation as Catra. She was an abused kid that was scared and absolutely powerless in a situation where an authority figure was taking advantage of her and hurting her. That Adora even tried to stop Catra's abuse in the face of her own fear of Shadow Weaver was really, really brave.

But it does make sense why Catra felt like Adora failed at protecting her. Catra was focused on just surviving through the abuse, and she couldn’t recognize that Adora was in a dire situation too, because Catra perceived abuse through the lens of her own experience, and that wasn’t what was happening to Adora. Adora appeared to be the protected favorite, so it seemed to Catra like Adora could’ve done more and chose not to. 

But we, the objective audience, are supposed to know better than that. It was never Adora's responsibility to stop Catra's abuse, and she never should have been made to feel like it was. That is an absolutely unfair expectation to put on any child, let alone on a child that was also being abused. Period. Catra understood that by the end of show, so all of us in the fandom should be able to as well.

Third, it should come as no surprise that innocent and defenseless civilians getting attacked is what really motivated Adora to see the Horde’s true colors. Adora was indoctrinated by the Horde and knew nothing else. She was raised and trained as a solider, and she was told it was her duty to protect Etherians from the evil princesses. She couldn't conceptualize what was happening to her and Catra as abuse, because it seemed like preparation for their life as soldiers. But she damn well knew the supposed good guys attacking a peaceful village of unarmed civilians was wrong.

Her inability to fully recognize her and Catra's abuse for the bad thing it was wasn't some character flaw. It was the result of growing up in a strictly controlled, isolated environment that fed her a steady diet of propaganda and instilled in her a sense of duty to the greater good above all else, including her own life. Her personal suffering did not matter, because it was in service to an important cause. 

Violence was also completely normalized in the Horde, and it was basically the only emotional outlet cadets learned. Are you mad? Punch things. Are you sad? Punch things. Are you ill-equipped in identifying the emotions you’re feeling? Punch things! So nobody was raising an eyebrow at the concept of superior officers berating, threatening, and physically harming cadets. That just seemed to be par for the course. 

Though in reality, the worst of the abuses came from one person. But that just meant Adora could rationalize Shadow Weaver as one commanding officer taking things too far. Shadow Weaver’s personal actions didn't have to be representational of the Horde's overall mission. It didn’t mean the Horde itself or what they were fighting for was bad, it just meant Shadow Weaver was a cruel taskmaster Adora and Catra had to put up with and appease until they could get out from under her thumb and into the field to fight for good.

To summarize this point, Adora was witnessing Catra’s mistreatment (and experiencing her own mistreatment) in the confines of an inherently exploitative system that she had been brainwashed to think was righteous. She not only lacked a frame of reference to conceptualize the abuse, she was also taught this mistreatment was to make them better soldiers. So whatever bad things they suffered, she could tell herself it was manageable because it was all part of a bigger plan to make the world a better place. 

But seeing the Horde attack a village of civilians went against all of that. It was something she could conceptualize as fully wrong, and it showed her that the Horde wasn’t actually trying to do good like she'd always been taught. Presented with that evidence, she had to leave. It was only once she was outside the Horde’s system and was exposed to other ways of life that Adora could really start recognizing and coming to terms with just how badly she and Catra were treated.