#literally the best boy and gong

[shijiujun]

If you don't know what to live for, then live on for me!

[thebirdandhersong]

Lol

[lurkingshan]

Some Highly Recommended Kdrama

My pal @troubled-mind asked me if I had any recommendations for good kdramas to watch, and my answer to that is: literally always. I put together this short list for them and decided to share in case anyone else is interested.

Parameters for this list: modern setting, strong focus on friendship dynamics, mix of genres, avoid university settings, no one-sided romantic pursuits, and no terribly sad endings

Be Melodramatic/Melo Is My Nature (Viki)

Fantastic friendship focused drama about a group of close friends who all move in together in the wake of personal crises. A healing drama that includes a couple love lines. And an out gay side character (still extremely rare for mainstream kdrama, unfortunately). This one will make you laugh and cry.

Happiness (Viki)

Pandemic zombies attack! Now I am not really a zombie person, but I absolutely love this show. It’s about a pair of working class besties who decide to get married in order to win a housing lottery (one of them may or not be hoping this fake marriage turns real), then immediately get caught in a lockdown with all their new neighbors when there’s a zombie virus outbreak. Shenanigans ensue! This is more action thriller than horror, and the two main characters are some of my all time favs. The writing, plotting, and pacing are tight as hell and it’s a rare perfect 10 for me on that front.

Coffee Prince (Viki)

MY BELOVED. This is an absolute classic genderbend kdrama that I’ve watched several times. The show that made Gong Yoo famous. An honest to goodness queer narrative about a chaebol who meets a girl pretending to be a boy for poverty reasons, falls in love, and has a bisexual awakening. This show was way ahead of its time even if it doesn’t use our modern language (you will not hear the words trans, non-binary or bi/pansexual but trust me, they’re there). Also features a fun friend group who all work together at the coffee shop. I try to make everyone watch this one, and recently got @bengiyo and @kyr-kun-chan to watch and validate my read of the story, and they enjoyed it a lot despite the messy hets. Be warned though that this drama is old old, so you’ll need to adjust to the visuals.

Fight for My Way (Viki)

My all time favorite friends to lovers drama, this is a coming of age tale of two best friends and their long journey to getting on the same page about romance. Their dynamic is fantastic and the story is mostly set in their early adulthood as they try to establish themselves in careers and make sense of their bond as adults. Also features their close friends who form a fun little group with them. And Park Seo Joon, a god among drama actors.

Hospital Playlist (Netflix)

If you want excellent friendship dynamics, look no further. This show is all about a group of five friends who met in college and have stuck together for over two decades and all of life’s ups and downs. The story begins when they find themselves all working in the same hospital for the first time since med school and decide to restart their old band. Yes, there will be singing, and no, you don’t have to cover your ears - the cast is stacked with South Korea’s best musical theater talent. This drama is slice of life and takes us through a couple years with them as they reforge their bonds and each deal with their own family baggage and love lives.

Misaeng (Netflix)

My all time favorite workplace drama that has the unique distinction of being the only show to ever make me literally burst into happy tears. No romance in this one. Story centers on a former baduk prodigy (think if Reply 1988 Taek stalled out instead of becoming a master) who attempts to enter the workforce with no discernible skills. He bumbles and fumbles and alternately competes with and bonds with his fellow interns, and forms a deep and lasting relationship with his mentor. When I tell you this show is a master class in writing to create emotional stakes, phew! How else can you explain me getting deep in my feelings over the success or failure of an import/export company?

My Mister (Netflix or Viki)

This one is a bit darker, as it deals with themes of intergenerational trauma, abuse, poverty, depression, and general ennui. Not a romance, this drama focuses on the strange and unexpected bond that forms between a middle aged man and a younger woman working on his team. They meet at an important inflection point in both their lives and forge a friendship that changes them both. Really moving and utterly beautiful, with an ending that will make you feel happy to be alive.

Extraordinary You (Viki)

Time for a change up! This is a fantasy show in which the main character becomes self aware and realizes she is a side character in a manwha. Technically set in a school (inside the manwha) but not actually about that. She bonds with another side character who is self aware, and the two of them start working to change the story so that they can break free (and fall in love while doing it, naturally). The concept of this one is just so cool and they do a lot of interesting things with it, plus the visuals are stunning.

The Uncanny Counter (Netflix)

Because I know you liked Oh No! Here Comes Trouble, I’m adding this one about a kid who discovers he has superpowers and teams up with a little found family of grim reapers to fight evil. The family unit is great and there’s lots of good stuff in their various relationships with each other. This one is a lot of fun but also touches on the characters’ sad backstories and family lives.

Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo (Viki)

You said to avoid university settings but I’m adding this one in case you want to give a classic college romance a try. My fav in that category, it’s a sports romance between a weightlifter and a swimmer who used to be childhood friends and reconnect in college while they’re struggling with performance issues, body image, and romance. It’s a friends to lovers slow burn and they are utterly adorable.

If you like any of these, let me know and I can give you more recs!! Y’all can hit me up anytime, getting other people to watch my fav shows is one of my number one joys in life.

[angieloveshua]

“My five starts danmei novels.” Short, well, you do know, not short reasons why I like them.

🎋 —C Language Cultivation.

carrd.

Programming? Cultivation? A pretty man with long hair? Fucking swipe my card— wait, I don't own a card... Anyways, you get my point!

This novel, C Language Cultivation, had all the possible elements to make it into the top of my favourite novels. Did it achieve it? Well, fellas, it is in the post for something!

Believe me, for a moment, I was crazy enough to think that studying Computer Science because of this book was a good idea of a degree (it is, but Angie is a literature girl), so Imagine how good it is.

If you're done with slow burn (I'm never done with slow burn, but there are times when I appreciate a couple who gets straight to the point), read C Language Cultivation! Dong Jun and Lin Xun had THEE tension going on from the moment they've met, and I was screaming with every single interaction.

I believe this novel had one of the best plot twists I've read in my entire life (and I've been reading since I was 10, guys, 10 years old!). I was literally staring into the wall, trying to process what I've just read. I still can't believe how it fucking played with me.

Alas, Dong Jun and I share birthdays! Do you need another reason to start reading it, like, mmm, NOW?

🎋 —Beyond The Outline.

carrd.

Grab yourself to something because this is the second, THE SECOND novel with almost no angst (there are sad moments, but it's mostly cute) that I ranked as a five starts book. The author? Obviously, Mu Gua Huang.

You see, guys, Mu Gua Huang makes me love happiness and to be quite addicted to it. Once I started this novel, I would keep reading it until 5 a.m., and it was worth it!

Beyond The Outline has a precious message behind the hilarious and mysterious situation where two high school students, completely opposite from each other, switch bodies after being hit by lightning. I was this emoji 🥺 all the time.

I love this couple. Shao Zhan 🤧, look, I don't mean to spoil you, but he does something that I was like, “No man will do this for me never. He's the last romantic.” He's the best boy and the best boyfriend. If someone hates him, they seriously need some help.

🎋 —Alpha Predator.

No carrd, unfortunately.

Some of you may say, “Angie, didn't you review this novel before?” And I will do it again.

Alpha Predator is the last novel of the 188男团 (if you don't know, basically, the gongs are all 188 and scummy) and the best I've read from Suida. This book basically fell from the sky for me. I was on a reading block (is that the right term in English?) and needed something that made me retake my usual reading rhythm. May I aggregate that this has been the best novel I read in 2023 by so far? It is.

As the title suggests, Alpha Predator is an ABO world where rank plays an important role in society. The ML and scummy gong (mi bebé solo estaba jugando) is an S class Alpha, which means he is the one on top of the pyramid. I love Qu Moyu, and I am willing to defend him with my life. I accept that I tweeted that he was a stupid Alpha, but we all make mistakes, hahaha.

I love QuShen. 💜 They are my favourite 188 couple, and the best, in my not so humble opinion. They admire each other, and they come to love each other despite all the misunderstandings, and that makes me 🤧.

If you like scummy gongs and trust my taste, give it a try!

🎋 —Po Yun.

carrd.

What do we have here? My last reading, the best crime book, and the novel that made me couldn't look my chemistry teacher straight in the eye! The last point is kind of a long story that I'll tell you some other day.

Anyways, who are these sexy gentlemen? I'll introduce you to Yan Xie and Jiang Ting, the protagonists and couple of Po Yun!

I have great memories of reading this novel. I remember sending voice messages to one of my friends about this book: “Girl, you wouldn't believe what just happened...” Dalia and I agree that this is an amazing book.

I also found it quite realistic in the aspect of how much can drugs fuck up someone's life. I won't elaborate on this because it's spoiler, but you will piece a lot of things once you know about a certain character past.

As for the romance, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, WHY THE FUCK I WASN'T IN THAT WEDDING. I WOULD HAVE CRIED WHILE DRINKING EXPENSIVE WINE (I don't even like wine). They're HOT and they LOVE each other.

🎋 —First-Class Lawyer.

carrd.

Look, maybe I wouldn't have dropped out of law school if it were as entertaining as this novel, but it wasn't in my case. Putting that new fun fact about me aside, welcome to First-Class Lawyer by Mu Su Li.

This novel is set in a futuristic environment, so Yan Suizhi and Gu Yan are not just lawyers but interstellar lawyers. Amazing, isn't it? The mystery involves the other planets, so you'll see them space-travelling to find out the truth. And if that didn't sell you, Yan Suizhi is “dead.” Yup, our main character was awakened from death and put in another body in the first chapter. As the critics (me) say, “You know the book is good when the author kills the protagonist in the first page.”

The couple, aw. Imagine having someone you could tell anything, it doesn't matter how insignificant it is, and that they listen to you and that they love you so much —that's Gu Yan and Yan Suizhi. They're also teacher × student, from those who like that kind of dynamic!

As I told you in the beginning, this is written by Mu Su Li, author of QQGK, which means it is freaking good!

Some of you may be wondering, “Where the fuck is BAB?” I'M WAITING FOR OFFICIAL ART. 😭 HOW AM I SUPPOSE TO ART BAIT YOU IF THERE IS NO OFFICIAL ART???? /cries in it's my favourite book and it doesn't have art even though it was signed to a lot of publications

[coughs] I hope you like this pt. 4 of Angie recs! I don't know when I'll post the next, but this is my humble effort of making you read these amazing novels!

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group F Round 4: There’s a Pit in my Senior Martial Brother’s Brain vs Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle

#F7: There’s a Pit in my Senior Martial Brother’s Brain (Wo Jia Dashixiong Naozi You Keng)

Transmigrator heals a reincarnation revenge story

#F5: Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle (Maoujou de Oyasumi)

Tiny princess torments an entire castle of demons for sleep

Details and poll under the cut!

#F7: There’s a Pit in my Senior Martial Brother’s Brain (Wo Jia Dashixiong Naozi You Keng)

Official English title: What’s Wrong With My Big Brother Alt Title: My Dashixiong Has a Pit in His Brain

Summary:

Dongfang Xianyun transmigrates as the eldest disciple of the Care-free sect. But the only thing that goes through his mind is to make sure he doesn’t end up dying by the hands of the “main character.” He believes he’s just a side character. He just wants to relax and survive all the mayhem surrounding him while dealing with one of his jealous sect teammates, who grew corrupted in the past life.

Propaganda:

This series is kind of insane but also just a lot of fun! The thing is, the shidi (junior martial sect brother), Yin Feixing, felt betrayed by his dashixiong (eldest senior sect brother), Dongfang Xianyun, after he was seemingly rejected for ending up studying the demonic arts. After he dies, he decides to take revenge in the next life, and this is where our story starts off…

The only problem is his dashixiong has been replaced by a transmigrator. And our new Dongfang Xianyun is not as cold or uptight as the past dashixiong (but as the story unravels, was he even that bad?); rather, this version is silly and goofy and fun. And because he believes wholeheartedly that Yin Feixing is the protagonist, he doesn’t act the way a dashixiong is expected to—but it’s in this silliness that one can find sincerity…

So as Yin Feixing exacts his revenge, turning Dongfang Xianyun into a demonic arts practitioner, Dongfang Xianyun’s new soul means he won’t follow the same path as Yin Feixing. Rather than fall to ruins like Yin Feixing, his empathy and creativity means he challenges this entire world by making his fellow demonic practitioners into law-abiding heroes, even as people hate him for the demonic arts. So as multiple plots unfurl, we get a pretty emotional, thematically interesting story, even amidst all the (very funny) crazy comedy, and a clever parody of xianxia* and other transmigration stories. 😆

(*Xianxia (仙侠 xiānxiá) – literally means “Immortal Heroes”. Fictional stories featuring magic, demons, ghosts, immortals, and a great deal of Chinese folklore/mythology. Protagonists (usually) attempt to cultivate to Immortality, seeking eternal life and the pinnacle of strength. Heavily inspired by Daoism. Source)

Oh, and Gong Changsheng is best puppy! He’s such a good sunflower boy with the biggest crush on Dongfang Xianyun, and I love them so much. I think lots of others will love them too if they gave this series a chance. 🥺

The slightly evolving names for each season are fun too:

S1: 我家大师兄脑子有坑 (My Dashixiong Has a Pit in His Brain (aka “he’s really dumb/ridiculous”))

S2: 我家大师兄是个反派 (My Dashixiong Is a Villain)

S3: 我家大师兄有点靠谱 (My Dashixiong Is a Bit Reliable)

(Plus, besides the original manhua, there’s a fun chibi OVA where the cast are like actors!)

Trigger Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore. The donghua isn’t as intense as the manhua, but there is one character who flirts in a somewhat creepy manner.

#F5: Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle (Maoujou de Oyasumi)

Summary:

The Demon Lord Tasogare’s castle is a dark and frightening place, filled to the brim with various monsters. Any soul unfortunate enough to be imprisoned here is sure to be terrified by the horrors within. However, the human princess Aurora Suya Rhys “Syalis” Kaymin is a different case. Rather indifferent to her situation, Syalis worries about one thing and one thing only—sleep. Ever since the demon lord kidnapped her from her kingdom, she has not had a single good night’s rest.

To alleviate her dozen dozing issues, the princess makes do with what she can find in the castle. Whether it be the fur of fluffy demonic teddy bears or the silky, blanket-like bodies of ghost shrouds, everything is but a means to ensure a peaceful slumber. With so many potential materials to craft items that can help her sleep at her disposal, nothing will stop the sleepy princess—not even death.

Propaganda 1:

This show is probably the single most charming parody of a fantasy RPG setting I’ve ever seen. It takes an extremely generic premise and flips it on its head with a simple shift in protagonist. The characters are all fun in their own right, but Princess Suya steals the show through extreme slapstick violence against her captors and a nonchalant attitude towards literally everything that isn’t immediately related to sleep. While it’s easy for a plot like this to quickly become comedically stale, the show is careful to avoid exhausting its premise by introducing new characters that serve as unique obstacles to Suya’s goals as well as by ramping up the audacity of her actions. Additionally, we get occasional glimpses at the hero’s party as they quest to ‘rescue’ the princess, scenes that serve both as story progression as well as a nice change of pace from the princesses antics. While the premise may not be for everyone, this show executes on its concept flawlessly for anyone who finds the premise amusing.

Propaganda 2:

The art style is cute and the character designs are quite pleasant and even the side characters are entertaining. the main character is tiny princess with purple hair and pronouns who’s actually glad to have been kidnapped by the demon king because she gets sleep but oh no, the bedsheets suck and the pillow feels cheap. She goes to find material for new bedding and pillow and ends up tormenting several demons.

Trigger Warnings: None.

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form with your revisions, and I’ll consider adapting those changes.

New: Starting round 5, screenshots will be included in the poll post. You can submit screenshots through the form linked above, or through here, via ask or dm.

Guidelines in submitting screenshots:

No NSFW or spoilery images.

Pick some good images please. Don’t send any blurry or pixelated ones.

You may send up to 9 screenshots, but not all may be used.

[blossoming-sun]

another pj masks au (villain swap au)

I'm not changing anything except the villains motives for hating the pj masks, so the villains powers and stuff will stay the same.

NN: orticias motives. Night Ninja was new to the city and didn't have any ninjalinos (yet). Ready to begin his career as a ninja, he started making sticky splats in the park one night. An Yu, who had already been released from the gong by the PJ masks at that point, went to go stop him, remembering how the ninjas in her time acted. NN was attacked by an yu for seemingly no reason, making him hate her and her allies.

Luna: Octobellas motives. Since she's from the moon with no way to return (motsuki isn't her sister in this au, and therefore she can't teleport) everything that comes from the moon is as precious as gold to her. When she left her moon crystals unprotected for a night to go and steal a smoothie, gekko (without knowing it was hers) took it back to HQ, where PJ robot found a way to feed its energy into the PJ crystals, draining it of its power. Luna has never forgiven gekko for this, and vows to make him pay.

Romeo: Speedy twins motives. He's still a scientist, but is less obsessed with taking over the world and more obsessed with making his lab the best lab on the planet, so everyone will recognise him as the greatest scientist of all time. In order to do this, he needs to steal equipment, which makes the PJs his enemies as they try to stop him.

Wolfy kids: Muki Gu's motives. The wolfies aren't evil, they just love pranks (which is canon), and sometimes take things a bit too far. They don't care about becoming full wolfy, they just want to have fun at night to get away from the boringness of daytime, even if its at the expense of others.

Motsuki: Night Ninjas (s1) motivation. She was romeo's lab experiment in this AU, and similar to her canon counterpart, struggles with being told she's not as good as he is. Although the duo live together, she spends most of her time alone, and wants to prove she's the best at everything to spite romeo. She does this mostly by stealing stuff from school: if nobody else can paint/play sport/read comics, then she'll have to be the best at it by default.

Munki Gu: Luna's motivation. After being trapped in a statue for 1000 years, he's pretty bored. He steals toys, books, games, anything he wants, just for fun. He hates being bored, and will do literally anything to not be bored. He's fairly friendly with the PJ masks, due to gekko being th one to free him, but that doesn't mean he's willing to not steal things when they ask.

Octobella: wolfy kids motivation (hear me out) after reading stories about cthulu, krakens, and other octopus-style mythical creatures, she decided that they were cool as hell and wanted to figure out how she too could become giant and scare sailors. She hasn't found a way too yet, but this hasn't stopped her from stealing many crystals and other magical artifacts from the museum in the hopes that they will magically turn her into a much cooler version of herself.

Pharaoh boy: gloops motivation, or part of it, at least. After 4000 years, he is shocked and annoyed that the world is nothing like the one he's used to, and thinks that he could make it way better if he restored it to the glory of the ancient egyptian days. He still wants to rule until the end of time, but he's also pretty fond of redecorating- aka, using magic to create sandstorms and make the city much hotter. He's also built a night ninja statue-esque pyramid in the park one time.

Orticia: Motsukis motivation. When octobella was messing around with stuff from the museum, she accidentally messed with orticias seed, creating her. Orticia is now Octobella's self-proclaimed little sister, and wants to help her achieve her goals no matter what. The two fight occassionally, but octobella is happy for the extra help and they have a pretty good relationship for the most part

Pirate Robot: Romeo's motivation. He wants to take over the world, believing that robots are superior to humans. He is actually terrible at starting the robot uprising, as most of his plans involve attacking the museum with pudding or putting robot propaganda posters up at the school, but the pj masks have to stop him anyway. they still think he's silly and kind of like him, just like in canon though. He's just that bad at taking over the world.

Speedy twins: Pharaoh boy's motivation, but instead of wanting to rule the world, they want to rule the racing world. They tend to cause destruction with their reckless driving, and refuse to stop no matter how much damage they cause. They have stolen the PJ vehicles before, not to take their parts, but so that the PJ masks couldn't have any vehicles that could possibly stand a chance in a race against the flashcar

Gloop the third: pirate robots motivation. He loves shiny things, and wants to collect cool treasure from earth to decorate his home back on planet gloop with. He has no other motivations, he just flies around in the gloopster looking for earth treasure

did you know that this post is almost 900 words. Thanks for getting through the whole thing (:

[turnupswritessometimes]

13 questions about books

Tagged by the wonderful @holographiccs - thank you! <3

1. The last book I read:

I finished reading Fright Bite by Jennifer Killick this morning - very good, very fun middlegrade horror. Each book has different mutated animals, and this time round it was rats! We love to see it!

2. A book I recommend

So many, but The Shadow Glass by Josh Winning. What if the puppets from Labyrinth/The Dark Crystal came to life in our world? Fun shenanigans! It's a real love letter to the Jim Henson company.

3. A book I couldn't put down

The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton. Yes, it's only a hundred pages or so, but I read it in one sitting. Those boys!! Those boys and their relationships and coming of age! The ending!

4. A book I’ve read twice (or more)

The Black Magician Trilogy (I know I'm cheating) by Trudi Canavan. I love the world and the characters and the magic system. The Novice is the best one because of Dannyl's arc. (We love finding out you've been using magic to suppress the fact you're gay for literal years! I'm sinking my teeth into that plot line.)

5. a book on my to-be-read

I have nearly 100 on my Goodreads to read list, lol. But I'm very interested in These Violent Delights by Chloe Gong. Romeo and Juliet but in 1920s Shanghai? Incredible!

6. a book i’ve put down

I don't often not finish a book, but 'Boulevard of Broken Dreams' by Paul Alexander. You cannot make those kind of sweeping, certain claims about James Dean's life without proper referencing or a proper bibliography!

7. a book on my wishlist

'Poison in their Hearts' by Laura Sebastian, the final in the trilogy. Very Game of Thrones fantasy political intrigue, but with strong female characters who are actually well-rounded and well-written! And use their smarts in most situations! Very intrigued to see how it will all finish up.

(But I have the first two in paperback, so I really need to wait for this one to be in paperback too.)

8. a favorite book from childhood

Anything by Jacqueline Wilson, but I do have a soft spot for 'Candyfloss.' Wilson just has a way of capturing what it's like to be a child really authentically. I did also love that each chapter had a page of illustrations that fit together to hint about what was going to happen.

9. a book i would give to a friend

Lost Boy, by Christina Henry. A dark Peter Pan from Lost Boy Jamie(who wears a red pirate coat! Hint hint!)'s perspective that fits perfectly within the original book. It will make you cry!

10. a fiction book i own

Way too many...Descendent of the Crane by Joan He was one I hugely enjoyed. Very twisty Asian Fantasy with a really good romance and a great female lead.

11. a nonfiction book i own

Last Night at the Viper Room by Gavin Edwards. A really good biography of River Phoenix's life that's well researched and really highlights who he was. (And how weird everyone was about him!)

12. what i am currently reading

I'm slowly trudging my way through 'It' by Stephen King and 'Tinker Belles and Evil Queens' by Sean Griffin. Both are very good but Tinker Belles and Evil Queens requires a lot of thinking to get through. (And It has a lot of Kingisms to brace yourself for.)

13. what i plan on reading next

I've just collected 'Rumblefish' and 'That was Then, This is now,' by S.E. Hinton from the library, so I'll be devouring both of those over the next couple of days at work. I love the sense of time and place in them. There's a sparseness to the prose, and yet real depth in the characters.

I'm tagging @lizziebennetss (thank you for the follow btw! <3) and @howtotrainyourmerlin (if you feel like it)

[howtotrainyouragents]

Agent H's Book Reactions

Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins

Revolution is rising in the districts of Panem as Katniss and Peeta are selected again for the Hunger Games Quarter Quell

-Unfair, that only Gale calls Katniss Catnip. I, too, would like to call her Catnip

-It's really fun reading the love triangle through the lens of what each boy represents (Gale: rage and rebellion, Peeta: hope and peace) because it so beautifully serves Katniss' emotions and journey. She chooses Gale when she decides to join the rebellion instead of running. She holds on to Peeta in the Capitol/Games. etc. Genius character technique, Collins

-I completely understand why Collins wrote it this way, but I wish that the victory tour had been longer. Like it goes by in pretty much two pages. I was looking forward to them going to each district, because it would help us get to know each district better and see the rebellions first hand. And I think it could've raised some tensions if while on tour, District 12 was being cracked down on and Gale got in trouble, and there'd be nothing Katniss could do. It parallels watching the Games and emphasizes the hopelessness and violence the Capitol is trying to inflict

-Between the victory tour and the Quell announcement, I was really bored. It was important plot set up and I really appreciate how these books dedicate time to Katniss's trauma and emotional well-being. But it dragged on a bit too long for me.

-I really appreciate the posts that point how Rue is the true start of the rebellion, but I don't want to mistake that for the impression that her death matters more than her life. She was a young Black girl, she deserved to live :(

-At first I was like, ugh, this Games feels different than the first. But, duh that's the point!! The first part of this book is about the districts uprising. The second part of the book is the microcosm of the districts, the victors uprising. The Games feel different because it truly is the districts against the Capitol instead of each other

-They say that once the gong rings, the solidarity that the victors showed during the interviews will be gone. But then they're wrong!! Katniss and all work in a team, and they rebel against the Games by showing compassion and solidarity. It's the victors working together to rescue Katniss. It's Peeta consoling the dying victor. It's Katniss taking the time to clean and soothe Beetee and Wiress. It's joking around with Finnick. It's Finnick having Johanna's back. That's the revolution!!

-I like the first book's arena more for how it was so realistic, but I can appreciate just how batshit traumatizing this book's arena is. Who tf thinks of raining blood??? Also I like the set up of the District 12 electric fence to the arena's forcefield. And how them destroying the force field is the literal AND metaphorical destroying the games for good

-Really sometime I should sit down with this series and just connect all the different parallels and symbolisms and set ups

-Peeta continues to be the best and my favorite

-"If it weren't for the baby"- PEETA MELLARK IS THAT BITCH. I LOVE HIM

-Unsurprisingly, I am down bad for Johanna. I want her to step on me

-*Me @me*: You cannot adopt another gorgeous, witty, secretly tragic boy. *Me, sighing, knowing this will not end well, but putting Finnick Odair in my pocket anyway*

-I know it was for the escape plan, but it was so cute how Finnick was obsessively counting the bread each time

-I couldn't tell if Finnick knew the truth on the baby thing, but I thought it was adorable that he seemed to so earnestly believe Katniss' lies, e.g., the baby, hearing the forcefield

-The whole hearing the force field thing is so funny because it has no significance to the plot, it's just Katniss overthinking things again and then having to keep up the lie

-I love Katniss and Peeta so much. They're so ride-or-die for each other before ever having real feelings (on Katniss's part at least) involved. Like the foundation of the relationship is just pure human empathy and friendship in the face of unimaginable circumstances. God damn

-I also really love how as much as Peeta gives Katniss hope, she also gives him hope. She saves him in the games. She makes life in District 12 worth living. It's not just one-sided, they save each other. Couples who mutually inspire each other to live=Top Tier

-I got confused on the ending, but why wasn't Peeta at the tree with Beetee? Finnick went after Johanna and Katniss after they realized the wire was cut. So I can get that Peeta would've wanted to go after them too, but Beetee would've insisted that he stayed put, right? Do they ever explain this?

-See, the rebellion rescuing Katniss feels less like plot armor to me than I think other books would've made it feel, mainly I think because Finnick and Johanna were still down to kill Katniss if it came to it and District 13 is very much also just using her in their Games

-Ohhh, the ending with Haymitch hurts so much. Because Peeta says that he lied to one of them about which one he'll keep alive. And we, like Katniss, know that he lied to Peeta because he agreed that it's Peeta's turn to live. But as much as he loves Peeta, turns out he lied to Katniss and us. The betrayal is real T^T

-The movie gives a cleaner explanation on why Katniss and Peeta can't know about the rescue plan

-Because I rewatched the movie immediately after finishing the book, Strokes of genius from the movie: 1) The little girl saying she wants to volunteer like Katniss (scariest moment of the movie) 2) The graffiti "the odds were never in our favor" 3) The shot of Johanna and Finnick leaning on the tree as they decide on Beetee's plan

-While rewatching, I saw a comment that was like "I can see how these books are beginning to reflect now in our real time." And I was like, hmm, yeah, like obvs we're not having children killing each other in an arena anytime soon (though we seem to be okay with children dying from gun violence and police brutality *side-eye*), but the series' themes of media, propaganda, and violence are very much in play now

-I think Hunger Games should absolutely be taught in dystopian fic sections of literature classes alongside things like 1984 and Brave New World (admittedly, Hunger Games was a little too disturbing for me as a young teen, but then again Brave New World was a little disturbing to me as a young teen SO)

[khaoray]

top 10 kdrama couples? and top 10 romantic kdramas? (i wanna watch something with good romance haha)

oh nonnie this is gonna be a challenge but i will do my absolute best. one thing you need to know about me and my taste in romance is that i'm really not here for straight up fluff. i need a bit of melodrama and angst to keep me invested. gonna stick it under a read more bc i feel it's gonna get lengthy asdfghjk

couples:

ji ho and jeung in (one spring night) - they invented being in love and facing your problems with maturity and they're just so important to me.

kang doo and moon soo (just between lovers) - if there's one thing i love in my romance it's angst and hurt people learning to heal together and literally no one does it like them. kang doo remains my favourite junho role too, so.

kyeo rye and yeon joo (if you wish upon me) - similar to jbl tbh kyeo rye is such a broken man at the start of the drama and watching him slowly fall in love and heal from years and years of trauma destroyed all of my emotions.

gong myung and se ra (into the ring) - THE childhood friends to rivals to friends to lovers ship!!!!! no one does it like they do honestly they're THE standard when it comes to emotional maturity.

joong gil and ryeon (tomorrow) - listen if you were around last year then you know just insane they made me. soulmates defying literal fate to end up together after centuries of trauma they make me so sick.

cheoljong and so bong (queen cheorin) - THE standard for enemies to lovers. nothing has ever been able to replicate the buzz they gave me week to week.

seon gyeom and mi joo (run on) - the softest couple on this entire list actually i think. they're just so sweet and cozy and safe and i love them so much.

taejun and taeyang (love all play) - my babies!!!! the drama itself kinda sucks but theyyyyy. one of the most mature relationships i've ever seen in a drama actually like we love a couple that actively talk about their issues and try to overcome them together.

vincenzo and cha young (vincenzo) - enemies to coconspirators to lovers excellence honestly who is doing chemistry like them. they're just so sexy.

dong jin and woo joo (call it love) - hi hello it's another instance of two traumatised people falling in love and finding happiness together what can i say i have a TYPE.

dramas:

one spring night - i've already talked about why i love this drama so much so i won't do it again but just know. i love it so so much it's so important to ME.

just between lovers - another one i've talked about a lot at this point but outside of the romance, this drama is just so GOOD. it deals with a lot of heavy themes so i'd advise discretion but it's so worth it imo. but just 10/10 experience wish i could go back and watch it again for the first time.

if you wish upon me - i love it for a lot of the same reasons i love jbl they're very similar imo. also. kyeo rye is the most character of all time i genuinely don't think ji chang wook is ever topping him.

into the ring - underrated!!!! underrated!!!!!!!!! underrated!!!!!!!!!!!! y'all slept on this one so hard and i still haven't forgiven you. i love romance between two grown adults who actually act their age and don't fall victim to stupid tropes.

run on - this drama makes me feel so cozy and safe and fuzzy idk man it's just pure good vibes for my soul.

call it love - if you love dramas that are slow, where a lot is said with very little dialogue and where the colour grading tells you a lot about the characters emotional states then boy do i have the drama for you.

witch's romance - can i interest you in twinky park seo joon in love with uhm jung hwa??? bc that's what this drama has to offer and it's so fun. it might be a bit dated now bc it came out in 2014 but i had such a good time when i first watched it.

queen cheorin - aside from the last half of the last episode i had such a good fun time watching two absolute idiots fight tooth and nail against falling in love with each other. when are we ever getting that level of chemistry again???

moon embracing the sun - alright i'm gonna be honest i don't actually remember all that much of this one anymore. i only watched it because kim soo hyun's in it. but i watched it as it was airing and it emotionally destroyed me so that's gotta count for something.

first love hatsukoi - yeah yeah it's not korean it's japanese but it's also the best show i've watched in the last year so!!!!! y'all can just take my rec and live with it. please please PLEASE watch it it's one of the most beautiful dramas i've ever seen and all four of the main actors are absolutely incredible in it.

[ironwoman359]

For the YA readers, there's plenty for you too!

Ones I've read:

Legendborn by Tracy Deonn (Arthurian legend retelling with an incredibly well rounded protagonist that paints a beautiful picture of grief and anger and this is one of the best ya books I've ever read please read it)

Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao (retelling of the historical Chinese empress Wu Zetian's rise to power with giant mecha robots and a power polycule that could rule the world together if the plot would give them a break first)

Blood Like Magic by Lieselle Sambury (near-future fantasy with blood magic, the bonds and burdens of family, and a trans love interest)

Dread Nation by Justina Ireland. (Alternate Civil War history with zombies? Alternate Civil War history with zombies.)

Cinderella is Dead by Kalynn Bayron (A Cinderella retelling/deconstruction where our protagonist and her lesbian love interest decide to single-handedly try to tear down the patriarchy)

The Sunbearer Trials by Aiden Thomas (A trans demigod from an Aztec inspired pantheon is unexpectedly drawn to compete in a series of trials to become the Sunbearer, who will sacrifice the loser of the trials in order to keep the Sun God alive and evil at bay)

Binti by Nnedi Okorofor (Nnedi Okorofor was mentioned above but I have to shout out the Binti series specifically, it's a trilogy of novellas and it's so damn good, some of the best sci fi I've ever read, Binti and Okwu have my whole entire heart)

The Bone Witch by Rin Chupeco (What if Memory of a Geisha had necromancy, women's wrongs, and a framed story that makes you unable to stop reading, lest your questions as to how we got here go unanswered?)

Abeni's Song by P. Djèlí Clark (this is more middle grade than YA, but it's fantastic all the same, and I wanted to shout it out because when I found out that P. Djèlí Clark had written a book for younger readers I literally squealed aloud, his books are SO good and Abeni's Song is no exception)

Dragons in a Bag by Zetta Elliott (Another middle grade series, about a group of kids from Brooklyn who get caught up in a world of dragons and magic and it's so cute and so good, I believe really strongly in reading and supporting diverse middle grade books and this was the series that started me on that journey)

Solimar: the sword of the Monarchs by Pam Muñoz Ryan (One more middle grade book for the road, this is a Mexican Kingdom inspired story about a princess who wants to be king who must embark on a magical journey to save her family and her people)

And some honorable mentions (aka books on my TBR that I haven't read yet but will get to eventually):

These Violent Delights by Chloe Gong (I just finished her adult debut and now want to go back and read her entire Secret Shanghai series)

An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir (everyone who reads this says it emotionally destroys them and then puts it on their top five fantasy books of all time list, so there's something Good going on in there)

A Song of Wraiths and Ruin by Roseanne Brown (initially put on my list solely for the cover, this is the first book of a duology inspired by West African folklore)

The Gilded Ones by Namina Forna (It's honestly criminal that I haven't read this trilogy yet

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas (Aiden Thomas's debut, this book centers a trans boy who exists in a world with a very Gendered magic system who carves out his own place for himself, my cousin says it's amazing)

The Girl With No Reflection by Keshe Chow (this JUST came out, I follow the author on tiktok and it looks dope, we've got a secret mirror world, vanished royal brides, sinister secrets, etc.)

PLEASE for the love of the universe read anti-colonial science fiction and fantasy written from marginalized perspectives. Y’all (you know who you are) are killing me. To see people praise books about empire written exclusively by white women and then turn around and say you don’t know who Octavia Butler is or that you haven’t read any NK Jemisin or that Babel was too heavy-handed just kills me! I’m not saying you HAVE to enjoy specific books but there is such an obvious pattern here

Some of y’all love marginalized stories but you don’t give a fuck about marginalized creators and characters, and it shows. Like damn

[rqs902]

Zong Ying failing to earn the opportunity to perform on stage

[fyodorslave]

JJK characters as things me and my friends have said

(aka just me and my best friend because i only have 1 friend)

implied sexual themes

gojo, megumi, yuuji, yuuta, maki, nobara, inumaki, nanami, getou, toji, sukuna, panda, todo

☽༓☾

gojo: remember how ur friends blocked me for being racist?

nanami: remember how u were racist

(to clarify, i was not being racist i js said something about white ppl LOL)

☽༓☾

inumaki: wait nendo has the big dick

maki: ...

panda: ITS CANON HE HAS A BIG DICK

☽༓☾

gojo: i needa take poop

gojo: hoping it’s not diarrhoea

(7 minutes later)

gojo: you wanna know what happened

gojo: it was diarrhoea 😒

☽༓☾

getou: i wanna ride saikis brother kusuke but it never came in my dreams

gojo: I WANT saikis brother to drill into me

☽༓☾

megumi: i literally hate fyodors hat

todo: do yk the symbolism behind it and the colour

megumi: no

todo: so hes russian as we know, the white shows purity which is completely contradictory to himself- a terrorist. Its also white because of the amount of my cum its absorbed

megumi: i cant be bothered replying anymore

☽༓☾

toji: and he said lawyers are always dishonest and crooked

toji: like um ok? thats exactly what I AM

☽༓☾

gojo: I will hammer the concepts into my head while imagining Fyodor hammering into me

megumi: i hope fyodor takes actual hammer and hits u on the head

☽༓☾

yuuji: LMFAO

megumi: boi if u don’t shut up

☽༓☾

yuuta: my grandparents are deqd

nobara: THATS SO FUNNY IDK WHY BUT I LET OUT A GUTTURALLY DEEP CHUCKLE AT THAT I SWEAR

maki: so insensitive BUT FUNNY ISTG

panda: is she paralysed?

yuuta: she's dead

☽༓☾

megumi: the funniest thing happened today

yuuji: 💀😭😭😭💀💀

megumi: i haven't even told the story yet

megumi: the fuck are you laughing at?

☽༓☾

sukuna: im touching myself

sukuna: no jk i just wanted to say that

yuuji: you're done

☽༓☾

*picture of ran haitani*

gojo: i want to grab his ponytails like a lasso and ride him like a cowboy

☽༓☾

yuuta: yamete kudasai

inumaki: i dropped my lighter from the roof

yuuta: train to busan guy

inumaki: what do i do

yuuta: gong something

inumkai: i cant get it

yuuta: i want gongs dong

maki: jump and kys in the process

(idk what this convo was)

☽༓☾

inumaki: I'll use the other lighter

inumaki: the giant one

panda: i hope you burn your face

inumaki: is it cause your jealous im prettier than you so you want me to burn and become ugly so you feel better about your horrendous looking face?

☽༓☾

toji: is she lesbian?

megumi: bitch idfk stop asking me the damn sexuality of an olympic athlete

toji: she's bi?

☽༓☾

sukuna: my nails are so pretty and long

nobara: they look like fermented sausages

☽༓☾

gojo: what time is it?

getou: look at the top of your screen

gojo: its midnight

getou: bitch its 7

☽༓☾

maki: you're always showering when i talk to you

megumi: ok and?? im no dirty mf

maki: i hope your water service gets cancelled

megumi: i hope your house sinks

maki: LMFAO

megumi: yeah you aint gon be laughing when it sinks

☽༓☾

yuuji: lawl

sukuna: tf is lawl?

yuuji: lol

yuuji: wait i have a good one

yuuji: lawlick deez nuts like ice cream

sukuna: bitch you stupid

☽༓☾

megumi: im sleep deprived

toji: sleep deprived? stop lying i bet your sleeping all the time

toji: sleep deprivation

toji: more like

toji: compulsive deceit

☽༓☾

panda: IVE BEEN ACTIVE, JUST NOT ON INSTAGRAM

inumaki: active on what

inumaki: pornhub

☽༓☾

nobara: OMG WHAT IF YOU GET DOXXED AND IT TURNS OUT YOUR HOMELESS

☽༓☾

yuuji: should i vlog on youtube

nanami: ngl you would be good at it

nanami: good at making people dislike the video

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group F Round 2: #F7 vs #F3

#F7: Transmigrator heals a reincarnation revenge story

#F3: Daily lives of tiny forest women

Details and poll under the cut!

#F7: There’s a Pit in my Senior Martial Brother’s Brain (Wo Jia Dashixiong Naozi You Keng)

Official English title: What’s Wrong With My Big Brother

Alt Title: My Dashixiong Has a Pit in His Brain

Summary:

Dongfang Xianyun transmigrates as the eldest disciple of the Care-free sect. But the only thing that goes through his mind is to make sure he doesn’t end up dying by the hands of the “main character.” He believes he’s just a side character. He just wants to relax and survive all the mayhem surrounding him while dealing with one of his jealous sect teammates, who grew corrupted in the past life.

*Transmigration = similar to isekai, but the world where the characters get isekai’d to is not always a western fantasy type. And a transmigrator is one who transmigrates.

Propaganda:

This series is kind of insane but also just a lot of fun! The thing is, the shidi (junior martial sect brother), Yin Feixing, felt betrayed by his dashixiong (eldest senior sect brother), Dongfang Xianyun, after he was seemingly rejected for ending up studying the demonic arts. After he dies, he decides to take revenge in the next life, and this is where our story starts off…

The only problem is his dashixiong has been replaced by a transmigrator. And our new Dongfang Xianyun is not as cold or uptight as the past dashixiong (but as the story unravels, was he even that bad?); rather, this version is silly and goofy and fun. And because he believes wholeheartedly that Yin Feixing is the protagonist, he doesn’t act the way a dashixiong is expected to—but it’s in this silliness that one can find sincerity…

So as Yin Feixing exacts his revenge, turning Dongfang Xianyun into a demonic arts practitioner, Dongfang Xianyun’s new soul means he won’t follow the same path as Yin Feixing. Rather than fall to ruins like Yin Feixing, his empathy and creativity means he challenges this entire world by making his fellow demonic practitioners into law-abiding heroes, even as people hate him for the demonic arts. So as multiple plots unfurl, we get a pretty emotional, thematically interesting story, even amidst all the (very funny) crazy comedy, and a clever parody of xianxia* and other transmigration stories. 😆

(*Xianxia (仙侠 xiānxiá) – literally means “Immortal Heroes”. Fictional stories featuring magic, demons, ghosts, immortals, and a great deal of Chinese folklore/mythology. Protagonists (usually) attempt to cultivate to Immortality, seeking eternal life and the pinnacle of strength. Heavily inspired by Daoism. Source)

Oh, and Gong Changsheng is best puppy! He’s such a good sunflower boy with the biggest crush on Dongfang Xianyun, and I love them so much. I think lots of others will love them too if they gave this series a chance. 🥺

The slightly evolving names for each season are fun too:

S1: 我家大师兄脑子有坑 (My Dashixiong Has a Pit in His Brain (aka “he’s really dumb/ridiculous”))

S2: 我家大师兄是个反派 (My Dashixiong Is a Villain)

S3: 我家大师兄有点靠谱 (My Dashixiong Is a Bit Reliable)

(Plus, besides the original manhua, there’s a fun chibi OVA where the cast are like actors!)

Trigger Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore. The donghua isn’t as intense as the manhua, but there is one character who flirts in a somewhat creepy manner.

#F3: Hakumei and Mikochi (Hakumei to Mikochi)

Summary:

In a world inhabited by people only a few inches tall, young women Hakumei and Mikochi live together in a house built into a tree. Hakumei is an energetic and tomboyish carpenter, while Mikochi is a feminine and calm tailor. Despite their differences, they get along well and spend their days having fun living their lives in the woods. The two of them spend their time working, going on sightseeing adventures, and taking shopping trips into Tsumiki Marketplace by the ocean. They make many friends along the way, be they sentient woodland creatures like Iwashi the Weasel or fellow miniature people such as the songstress Konju and the inventor Sen. Hakumei to Mikochi is a relaxing look into the day-to-day lives of its titular characters as they explore and interact with their tiny world which seems to be straight out of a fairy tale.

Propaganda:

It really is super adorable, and the art is gorgeous. Every bit of the world is rendered lovingly with a great level of detail, from the characters to the environments. The anime has this really cool effect where they use paneling to emulate the manga’s style while also making the characters visually smaller on-screen, which works because they’re tiny.

For a slice-of-life show, there’s a good amount of continuity. They introduce the swamp necromancer Sen in one episode, and she keeps showing up later on, helping rebuild their house when it explodes, then Mikochi repays her for that by designing and making a dress for her. The show gets really into the intricacies of everything, like how dying fabric is a multistep process that is similar to chemistry, or how soap is made with aromatics.

Every character is well-realized, with their own set of quirks, profession, the tricks and tools they use in that profession, and they make pretty consistent re-appearances. And the writing is very dry and witty despite the whimsical setting. It’s cute, but it feels very adult, all the characters are adults with jobs who get drunk sometimes. Everyone is very professional and responsible, and it’s a nice change of pace from teen shounen.

Trigger Warnings: None.

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how they’re presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

[octoberobserver]

Losers of the Rectangular Table

(Read on ao3)

"Damn, I wish I had a gong. It was so cool last time."

"You've never been cool a day in your life, Trashmouth."

Richie Tozier blinks, surveying his friend from where she sits diagonally across from him at the long, dining room table, a glint in her jade eyes. It really is a sight to behold, ten grown people sitting pretty at the glossy mahogany structure, Richie and Bill at each end like twin-kings of their weird, little kingdom.

Upon arrival, they each had silently acknowledged that a circular table would have facilitated their large group a little better. But, after last time...Richie is glad for the change. He had already made the obligatory ‘Last Supper’ joke more than once, of course. He blames the cold for his lack of creativity. Eddie blames his now-fired ghost-writers.

"Words hurt, Beverly. I thought engaged life had changed you, but alas," he places a wounded hand to his chest, "you have marred the first annual Clown Club meet—"

"We're not calling it that," Stanley cuts across Richie’s dramatic speech, with a withering look from his right.

"Well, you already vetoed Dead Losers’ Society, Staniel—”

"That's because out of the ten people present, only three of us have actually died, so that name doesn't hold up, genius," Eddie sighs from his left, picking up his glass.

"Okay fine, Mr Pedantic Pants,” Richie shrugs down at Eddie before addressing the table at large, “how about - welcome to the first annual 'Pennywise fucked us up and we can't talk about it to professionals lest we get thrown in the nut house' meeting. That satisfy everyone?"

Various murmurs echo throughout the room and Richie takes that as his cue to sit back down, drink in hand.

"I never thought I'd hear you use the word 'lest' in a sentence," Eddie snorts, taking a large sip from his long island iced tea, his third of the night.

Three-drink-Eddie is where his lips really loosen, to Richie’s endless delight.

Richie studies his mouth around the purple crazy straw for a second, eyes lingering on said thin, pursed, snarky lips before he shoots back, unthinkingly, "Watch your tongue, Kaspbrak. Lest I put it to better use."

Shit. Rein it in,Tozier.

Three-drink-Richie is an idiot.

Well, an even bigger idiot than sober Richie, anyway.

He knows that he has gotten a little too...comfortable these last few months where Eddie and his carefully constructed line is concerned. They have been living together in Richie’s L.A. apartment for over six months now, after Eddie landed on his doorstep, announcing his divorce following his after-death crisis. Being roommates had come remarkably easy, with only minor hiccups, especially considering their type A and type B personalities, (the vegetable crisper is not a candy-drawer, Richie!) and it brought out a brazenness in Richie that he had thought was long-buried.

It’s just too fun fucking with Eddie (and have him give as good as he got), always had been.

Trouble is, subty isn’t exactly Richie’s strong suit the best of times, and when it comes to his oldest, deepest secret, he really can’t afford to test that. And yet, he does, almost unbeknownst himself, constantly.

Stan has always said I’m a masochist.

Richie has officially been out of the closet (complete with Twitter hashtag and upcoming Netflix special) for almost a year, while Eddie is too, albeit on a much quieter scale, for almost eight months. And not much has changed in their dynamic, really. They are still RichieandEddie, EddieandRichie, EdsandTrashmouth. They are, still at their core, those thirteen year old bickering boys, poking and prodding at each other, literally and figuratively, only they both now acknowledge that they had always been boys who liked boys, too.

And that...that made things interesting.

Kinda heartbreaking too.

‘Cause at least when Richie had thought Eddie was straight, he had that as an excuse, something to nurse his wounded, fragile heart. It was just never to be. Will never be.

But now…

Now he has to face the fact that Eddie is into dudes. He just isn’t into Richie. Will never be.

But that doesn’t stop Richie from riling him up at any given opportunity.

He’s only human.

If a little obvious, sometimes.

Though he’s certain Eddie hasn’t caught on as surely he would have run for the Hollywood hills if he had.

A flush of crimson rises steadily up Eddie's neck that Richie hungrily follows with his gaze like a man starved, heat pooling in his treacherous stomach. Eddie opens his mouth, no doubt to squawk an indignant retort when Bill leans forward, catching their attention.

"Richie, behave. We have company," he admonishes like a weary schoolteacher, gesturing first to Stan’s wife, Patty, and then to Adrian Mellon and his fiancé, Don Hagarty, as if they had all somehow forgotten their esteemed guests of honour.

“Oh don’t mind us,” Adrian waves dismissively, “we’re used to Richie’s latent flirting,” he leans forward in his chair to catch Richie’s eye, a smirk lining his face, “right, Tozier?”

“What can I say, Mellon?” Richie smirks right back, thinking, you smug little shit, “I’m an equal opportunity tease.”

Patty gives an amused snort as Richie turns to wink at her, ignoring Stan’s patented eyeroll.

Eddie shifts in his seat, clearing his throat.

“Alright so, uh...how do we start this?”

The Losers all look to their old leader, who is taking a sip from his piss/battery acid hybrid (according to Richie) craft beer.

Bill looks to his right, catching Mike’s eye and slowly lowering his glass.

“Well, uh...I’m no shrink but, I-I guess we could start with any uh...any pressing issues?”

“We’ve more issues than The Walking Dead, Big Bill,” Richie chuckles, not caring that he is ripping a line straight from his new special, “you gotta be a bit more specific.”

It had been a nice weekend, so far. Ben’s ‘cabin’ (actual giant wooden mansion) in Montana, had been the perfect backdrop for this little get-together, just over 18 months after everything that had gone down in Derry 2: Electric Boogaloo.

They were so far away from their real lives. A four hour flight from Los Angeles. Three from Georgia. Six from New York. Each pairing, (Richie did not allow himself to think ‘couple’) - Patty and Stan, Adrian and Don, Bill and Mike, and Richie and Eddie, had waved goodbye to their jobs, their responsibilities, their everyday worries, for an entire weekend to live it up with Ben and Bev in their vacation home.

And live it up, they did. Their first night had been spent settling in, acclimating themselves after their travels, followed by a quiet dinner and earlyish to bed like the near-middle-aged people they were. (Don and Adrian notwithstanding.) But tonight, after spending the day sight-seeing and catching up, tonight held a purpose.

“I’m still having nightmares.”

It’s Ben who speaks first.

Bev reaches out to squeeze his hand, lacing their fingers together.

“I’m being buried alive.”

Richie watches as Bev’s hand tightens over the planes of Ben’s knuckles, her own ghostly white.

“I’m suffocating to death, alone, the clown’s laughter all around me.”

A short silence follows those words.

“My deadlight dreams come back sometimes,” Bev pipes up quietly, running her free hand through her hair and blowing out a breath, “I thought they’d...stop, after. But they haven’t. Not completely.”

Richie swallows down the bile rising in his throat, dread forming in the pit of his stomach.

“Deadlights?” Don asks gently, surveying the table.

“Goodness gracious great balls of light,” Richie deadpans, gesturing with his drink, “big-ass orbs. The clown’s...energy, I guess? I dunno, man. Bev stared them straight on when she was a kid and...went into a trance or something. All white-eyed and floaty, like doing Molly at Burning Man. Except she didn’t achieve enlightenment or whatever the fuck. She saw us all die horribly in a freaky premonition.”

Bev’s gaze is heavy and knowing, no doubt hearing the strain in his voice as he tried to joke.

“You saw them too, Rich.”

Richie suppresses a shudder just as Eddie reaches out and clasps his forearm. The weight feels nice. Solid. Comforting. Everything Eddie has been for him for the last year. Or thirty years, depending how you look at it.

When it’s clear Richie isn’t going to say anything, Mike rests his palms against the table, staring at nothing.

“I think about Henry Bowers sometimes.”

Richie practically feels Eddie still in his seat, his grip on his arm tightening.

“Me too,” he admits, “hard not to think about the guy I axe-murdered.”

“You didn’t murder him, Richie,” Mike murmurs, trying to catch his eye, “you were defending me. You saved my life.”

The bile rises higher in his throat as he avoids Mike’s stare.

“Henry Bowers was Derry’s favourite bully,” he addresses Adrian, Don and Patty respectively, instead of even attempting to broach the subject of his ‘heroism’. “A real winner. Racist, sexist, homophobic. The true trifecta.”

“Anti-semitic too,” Stan adds, swirling the slice of lime around in his glass.

“Shit, yeah,” Richie agrees, “what’s after trifecta? Four-fecta?”

“Quadfecta,” Eddie corrects with a pat to his arm before letting his hand fall away.

Richie tries and fails not to miss its warmth.

“Yeah, I met a few of Derry’s bullies myself,” Adrian chuckles humorlessly, hand coming up to rest on his chest where they all knew an impossibly large, mouth-shaped scar lay directly over his heart.

Don leans into him, knocking their temples gently together, his arm winding around his shoulders and pulling him close.

Richie watches their casual intimacy, the ever-present ache flaring within him. He doesn’t look at Eddie. But it’s a near thing.

“They’re...they’re being prosecuted, right?” Patty asks, voice gentle but gaze fiery, “for what they did to you?”

Adrian nods, “Yeah, I mean, as much as they can be. Murder is off the table ‘cause, well,” he gestures up and down at himself, “but they’re up for assault, grievous bodily harm, attempted murder too. My lawyer says with that, and the Hate Crime angle, it’s looking good for fifteen to life.”

“Too good for those assholes,” Eddie growls, angrily gulping down the last dregs of his cocktail, slamming the glass back onto the table.

Adrian smiles, “Aww, Kaspy. I’m touched you care.”

Eddie blinks at him, “Of course I care, man. You...without you I—” he breaks off with a wave of his hand, the table filling in the rest. It’s still hard for Eddie to talk about what happened...after. Just as hard as it is for Richie to hear, if he’s being honest.

Adrian tilts, clapping Eddie on the shoulder.

“I wouldn’t have made it back without you, my afterlife-wife.”

Eddie glares at him.

“I hate that nickname.”

“Aw, Kasp—”

“That one too.”

Richie leans into the two of them, whispering conspiratorially, “Take it from me, Mellon-head. Spagheds is not a fan of any nicknames. I’ve been trying and failing since before you were just a twinkle in your dad's dick."

The whole table lets out some low chuckles at that. After a beat, Patty pipes up, smiling softly.

“I just...I can’t believe everything you all went through, now, but also, back when you were kids,” she marvels, glancing around at the Losers, her eyes settling on her husband, “you were all so brave.”

Don and Adrian hum in agreement before Bill heaves a sigh.

“If we had have just figured out how to kill IT back then—”

“That way madness lies, Bill,” Mike cuts across his friend, resting a hand on his shoulder, “trust me.”

Bill and Mike hold each others’ gaze for a weighted moment. It gives Richie pause. As does most interactions between Big Bill and Mikey these days. There’s something comfortable, familiar laced between them that Richie can almost put a name to.

It takes one to know one…

“You wouldn’t have died.”

Bill says it directly to Mike, but he means it for Stan, Adrian and Eddie.

“G-Georgie...he still would have, I know that. But...you three, those kids...they wouldn't have had to go through that. Dying and coming back.”

They all let that sink in.

“You think, ten years down the line we'll have Dean and Victoria knocking on our doors?” Eddie asks, clearly wanting to put an end to that train of thought, sounding both intrigued and horrified by the idea.

“Maybe,” Stan shrugs, “I mean, we get it, right? What they went through. Well. You guys do anyway.”

Richie can feel Eddie’s frown wafting from him across the table at their friend.

“You get it too, Stan. You...died and came back too.”

Stan nods, eyes lowered to his half-empty glass.

“Yeah. But you and Adrian were murdered. I took a bath.”

Patty’s sharp intake of breath is the only sound that follows that.

Stan reaches out for his wife’s hand, squeezing it apologetically.

“That’s bullshit, Stan,” Eddie practically spits, throwing up his hands, “I’m sorry, man, but it is. You...you sacrificed yourself for us. You ‘took yourself off the board’ to try and save us from that bastard. It may not have been directly him that physically did the job, but he did fucking kill you.”

Eddie is vibrating in his seat, his knee bouncing up and down as if independent from his body. Richie’s hand lands heavily on it, stilling it with a gentle squeeze. Their eyes meet, a little of the tension draining from Eddie’s shoulders at whatever he sees on Richie’s face.

Richie has an idea what it could be, but tries not to think too hard about it.

“I should’ve been able to warn you,” Bev breaks through whatever spell has befallen them, snapping both of their attention back across the table.

Richie goes to take his hand away, only to have Eddie’s fall atop it, their fingers brushing.

Heart hammering in his chest, Richie tries not to think too hard about that either.

That way madness lies…

“What?”

Bev glances over towards Stan.

“I—back then, back in the Barrens...I told you that I saw all of us, as we are now. Fighting IT. But I...I didn’t see you, Stan.”

Her voice is thick with emotion, her eyes wide and glistening.

“I’m sorry I—”

“Bev, it’s not your fault,” Stan interrupts gently, reaching over his wife to pat her hand where it still lay atop of Ben’s, “you were just a kid. You didn’t know what any of it meant. Didn’t...didn’t you say you saw all of us, die? Not just me and Eddie?”

She nods, her amber hair catching on the soft light.

“Well,” Stan gives a half-shrug, “then how could you know what would come true and what wouldn’t? Until it happened?”

Something ugly squirmed in Richie’s gut at that. He tried to shove it down, tried not to think of how, in those impossibly hard weeks after Eddie—after what happened, he had blamed Bev, was furious at her for not warning them that Eddie would be impaled.

It’s not her fault, it’s not her fault, it’s not her—

“What did you see in the Deadlights, Richie?”

It’s Bill who asks this time, his tone tinged with a determination that Richie had not missed from childhood.

Thing is, Richie had avoided outright telling them exactly what he had seen every time anyone dared to broach the subject, but now, with nine pairs of eyes levelled at him, even he, trash-talking Trashmouth that he is, knows he can’t evade the question any more.

So, he does the next best thing.

He lies.

Or rather, tells a half-truth.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs, keeping his voice as light as he can, “the usual showreel of horror - Bev drowning in a sea of blood, Ben being buried alive, a spectre of Georgie drowning you in your basement, Mike being beheaded, and Eds—”

His voice catches in his throat as he gently slips his hand out from under Eddie’s, eyes glued to the table.

“Eds being skewered like the world’s biggest shishkabob,” he rasps, “I uh...I didn't know the last one would actually happen either.”

He had been too slow. Too dazed. Too horrified to do anything but watch as the love of his life—

“You couldn’t have done anything either, Rich,” Eddie murmurs, his eyes burning a hole into the side of his face, “you know that, right?”

Richie swallows around the lump in his throat, nodding vigorously before leaping up out of his seat, waving his now empty glass in the air, “I’m raiding your booze, Benny boy. I’m tapped out.”

He can feel several concerned glances follow him across the room to the liquor cabinet. His hand shakes as he reaches out for the bourbon, shakes even harder as the liquid splashes into the glass, filling it higher than it probably should.

Why the fuck did I agree to this little therapy session?

He knows it’s been a long time coming. This little trauma talk of theirs. Had known it pretty much from the moment Eddie had called him from Derry General, no longer dead and wondering, ‘Where the fuck are you, dickwad? I woke up in the Barrens and you assholes were gone. What gives?!’ not realising that it had been him who had been…gone for over a month and most of the Losers had headed home. But not Richie. Oh, no. Richie had ignored all 79 missed calls from his manager, exchanged his flashy rental for an inconspicuous Volvo and been hauled up in a shitty motel in Bangor, brainstorming ways to excavate the whole of Neibolt to get Eddie’s body the fuck out from under that hellhole. ‘Cause there was no fucking way Richie was leaving him down there.

Turns out, there was no fucking way Eddie was staying down there either way.

“...and he actually said, ‘chicks dig scars.’”

Richie tunes back into the conversation going on behind him, (having heard the story of Adrian’s pigheaded brother-in-law before), putting the lid back on the bourbon and snatching up the pitcher of Long Island iced tea. With a deep breath, he forces himself to turn and walk back to his seat as normally as possible.

He’s about 69% successful.

“Shame you bat for the other team, Mellon,” he snorts as he lowers himself into his chair, ignoring the dark eyes he adores as he deposits the pitcher to his left, focussing on the younger man, “that would’ve been one hell of a scar to show off to the ladies.”

He gestures with his glass towards Adrian’s chest.

“You could’ve said it was a shark bite or like a Wendigo or some shit. You woulda been swimming in puss—”

“Nope! No, thank you,” Adrian interjects over Richie’s chortling, grimace marring his face, “I thought you were the ‘new and improved’ Trashmouth? No more pussy references when you waved the rainbow flag?”

Richie wiggles his eyebrows, “Guess some habits are hard to break.”

Like being in love with your best friend. You haven’t managed to break that one in thirty years.

Something glints in Adrian’s eye that Richie decidedly does not like.

“You know, dudes dig scars too. But I’m happily engaged,” he smiles sweetly at Don before tilting his head, turning to his right, “but you’re single, Eddie. You ever think of showing yours off in your Grindr profile?”

That little shit.

Installing Grindr had been an impulse decision of Eddie’s. An impulse that Richie had hated with every fibre of his being. But, Richie is a good friend. Eddie’s best friend. So of course he had helped him with it. Helped him craft a witty tagline (that nobody actually reads) and leaf through his very few selfies for an appropriate profile pic (that nobody really cares about unless it shows he's either jacked as shit or hung like a horse.)

But still, Richie helps. Because he’s a good friend.

And a fucking coward.

“Ugh, no thanks,” Eddie curls up his nose in disgust at Adrian’s suggestion, causing Richie’s stomach to swoop with relief, “Grindr is weird enough without bringing out the like...body gore freaks or whatever. I don’t want some Freddy-Krueger-fanboy perving on me.”

Adrian nods, humming in thought.

Richie doesn’t like that either.

“So what do you like then, Kasp? Anyone catch your eye?”

Richie can feel the heavy gaze of every other Loser (Adrian, Don and Patty included) at the goddamn banquet table (seriously, Ben, who the fuck needs a table this big?!) deeply regretting his conspicuous seating choice, as their looks alternate from him, to Eddie, and back again.

Subtly isn’t the Losers’ strength either.

Because here’s the thing - Richie knows he showed his hand back at Neibolt street. Back when he had to be dragged, literally kicking and screaming, out of the dilapidated well-house as his whole world crumbled down around him. And his whole world? Well, everybody figured out pretty quickly that that was Eddie.

Had always been Eddie since as far back as he could remember (now that he was allowed to.) He had spent those three days, over that terrible, horrible, no good, very bad weekend that was Derry 2: Judgment Day, remembering just how much Eddie had meant to him. And still means to him, despite their twenty-three-year-forced-separation.

Only to have it all snatched away with a claw through the back.

Hey, Richie listen, I think I got it, man! I think I killed it, I did! I think I killed it for rea—

“Aren’t we meant to be talkin’ about how fucked up we all are? Not critiquing my dating life?” Eddie’s indignant tone snaps Richie from his haunting reverie, his eyes darting up and meeting Bev’s.

She smiles gently at him. Her lips tinged with something like sadness, as if she can read his mind.

Richie takes a drink.

“Sometimes,” Stan speaks up, saving an embarrassed Eddie from the turn in conversation, “I wonder why we were brought back.”

“W-What do you mean, Stan?” Bill asks in a careful tone, fiddling with the coaster in front of him.

Richie watches as Stan shifts in his seat, brushing his thumb across the back of Patty’s hand.

“I mean...why us? Eddie, Adrian, the kids...me. Why did we get a second chance and nobody else?”

A sharp inhale of breath sounds from Richie’s left. Reaching out, he claps a hand down on Eddie’s shoulder, squeezing tight.

Slowly, Eddie lets out the breath.

Their eyes lock.

“I’ve thought that too,” Eddie admits, still looking at Richie, “I keep asking myself, over and over - what makes us different? Why did whatever...force...reverse what happened to us and not—not…” he falters, his eyes falling away to rest down at Bill.

“Georgie.”

The name seems to ring throughout the room.

After a beat, Bill leans his elbows up on the table, hanging his head.

“I think it’s been too long. He—he’s been gone for nearly thirty years. I don’t think even Derry magic can reverse that,” he speaks solemnly, “but you guys, you all died recently, were the clown’s newest...victims. Maybe whatever it was could only reverse the last cycle. Maybe it wanted to reward us for getting rid of Penny—”

“But I didn't fight the clown,” Stan cuts across him, voice hollow, “I was in a bathtub in Georgia. Eddie is the real hero. He figured out how to kill IT. His resurrection I get.”

Richie’s grip on Eddie’s shoulder tightens as he sits up straighter in his seat, stare boring into their friend.

“I’m...no, I’m not—we all did it, Stan. You too. You fought IT as a kid and you sacrificed yourself to try and help us this time around. That...that must have been why you were brought back despite being a thousand miles away.”

Stan nods, but doesn’t seem too convinced.

“Stan is right, though,” Richie pipes up, the words slipping from his mouth before he can stop them, “you are a hero, Eds. We—we wouldn’t have figured out what to do without you. We wouldn’t have beaten it, without you.”

He chances a glance to see Eddie already looking back at him.

His heart ricochets against his ribcage.

“I told you you’re braver than you think.”

Something passes across Eddie’s face, then. Something soft and indecipherable. He gets like this, sometimes. Still wholly Eddie, something knowable to Richie, shadows of his past-self always present, while sometimes shrouded in the enigma of their missing years. But no matter what, he was still something Richie wanted to figure out, like the best kinda puzzle, for the rest of his life.

Careful, Trashmouth. That sounds like a vow...

“Always happy to help you bully a demonic space clown to death,” Eddie replies, a smile in his voice even if his face remains a little crinkled in that way that made him seem fourteen and forty all at once.

He blinks, breaking their eye contact.

Richie forces his gaze away only to land on Stan who is fixing him with his own knowing stare.

Drop it, Stanley. Just 'cause Eds admitted he likes dick, doesn't mean he likes this Dick.

“Guys uh…” Eddie takes a breath, addressing the table and from Richie’s side-view of his face, seems pained as he searches for words.

“I just wanna say, I...I'm sorry I died on you like that. I...I really tried to hang on. That must have been pretty traumatic for you all. To...to find me like that.”

Richie lets his hand fall from Eddie’s shoulder as his own body tenses like a coiled wire, blood rushing in his ears as his heart leaps into his throat, nausea rising from the pit of his stomach.

Richie honey, he’s dead.

Let him go, man. Let him go!

We can still help him, guys, we can still help him! EDDIE!

“...and I remember holding his jacket,” Eddie is saying as Richie forces himself to shove down the memory, feeling the weight of his gaze fall on him.

Be normal. Act normal. Don’t let him see—

“And I remember thinking to myself, ‘shit, I made Trashmouth cry.’ I knew it had to be bad if I couldn’t get Richie to laugh at a stellar ‘your mom’ joke.”

That got a murmur of laughs from the table.

Richie shoved down the urge to spew chunks all over Ben’s mahogany finish.

“And then I just...slipped away, I guess? Last thing I remember was hearing some lame playground insults being yelled by five grown adults,” he gives a small chuckle before sombering, “but yeah, I’m sorry I put you through that. I’m sorry I couldn’t hang on and you had to leave me down—”

“I didn’t want to.”

Richie blinks, realising too late that those words had come from his mouth. He stares ahead at nothing, his pulse jack-hammering in his ears.

“What?” he barely hears Eddie ask, sounding far away as if underwater and in another room all at once.

“I didn’t wanna leave you,” he continues, his mouth on autopilot as his eyes trace the dark wood, “these assholes made me.”

Silence rings throughout the room as Richie’s jaw tightens, something raw and ugly rising within the depths of him. Something that he has been repressing for longer than he’d like to admit.

The loud screeching of a chair sliding across hardwood floor is the only indicator to Richie that he had stood up.

“We could have got you out,” he growls, clenching his fists at his sides as he fights the urge to slam them down and test just how strong Ben’s carpentry skills are.

“We could have taken you with us,” he continues, eyes flashing down at every Loser but Eddie and Stan, “but they wouldn’t let me even try. We—”

“Richie, we couldn’t—”

“Bullshit!” Richie snarls across the expansive table at their fearless leader who looks about ready to stand himself.

What’s the matter, Big Bill? Gonna hit me again?

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Richie spits, his words tasting like battery acid, “I know you’re a shortass, Denbrough, but between me, Mike and Haystack who are built like two brick shithouses?! You’re really telling me we couldn’t have carried him out?”

“Richie,” Ben pipes up placatingly, trying to catch his eye, “the place wasn’t structurally sound. It was coming down. We barely got out in single-file, there’s no way—”

“Then you should have left me!”

The words rip from his throat like the breath of a wounded animal. He would have barely registered having said them, if it isn’t for the deafening silence that follows.

Suddenly, there is a wave of colour in the corner of his eye and a heavy presence at his side.

“Richie…” Eddie murmurs, his puff of breath brushing Richie’s jaw, “you would've died.”

He sounds...broken. As if it had been Richie who had actually died and he couldn’t bear the thought.

Slowly, Richie tilts his head down, eyes catching on that dark gaze he loves with every atom in his being.

“So...?”

A gasp punches out of Eddie’s chest.

“Rich, I…” were it any other circumstance, Richie would have revelled in striking his frenetic friend speechless, but now, it just adds more guilt into his potent, swirling mix of emotions.

He stares doggedly at the pattern on the mahogany table.

“I wouldn’t have wanted that for you,” Eddie says so quietly that Richie is convinced the words are only for his ears.

A humourless chuckle rips from his throat.

“You were fucking dead, Eddie. You couldn’t want anything.”

Suddenly Eddie is directly opposite him, wedging himself between Richie and the table, glaring up at him, eyes flashing bright.

“What good would it have done, huh? You dying along with me? What the fuck, Rich? Why would you—”

“I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO BE ALONE!”

He doesn’t mean to yell, he really doesn’t, but the words explode from him anyway, as if finally breaking free from the cage he had kept them in for the last eighteen months.

Eddie startles but doesn’t step back as Richie continues to rant, the words escaping him quicker than he could catch them.

“You were stuck down there in that dark, disgusting, shithole. Grey water fucking everywhere and what? I was just supposed to leave your germaphobe-ass down there? To let you spend eternity in your worst fucking nightmare after—”

“YES!” Eddie erupts, all hands and frantic movements, “I was gone, Richie, fuck! I wouldn’t have wanted you to die too! I—”

“You died saving me.”

All of the fight drains from Richie, his shoulders slumping as he mutters barely above a whisper.

“You sacrificed yourself to save my shitty life. An ex-coke-head-closet-case who made a living talking shit that wasn’t even his own. I was the one dumb enough to taunt the clown, I was the one that got caught in the deadlights. It should have been me who was stabbed through the fucking back. It was my fault that my best friend that I only had back for three fucking days, died. And...I couldn’t fucking live with that.”

Richie turns on his heel and stalks out of the room as fast as his legs can carry him.

Out. He needs to get out now.

Fuck this fucking maze of a house!

His eyes bounce around, desperately searching for somewhere, anywhere to take a fucking breath when they land on the balcony.

That'll do, pig. That'll do.

Scrambling forward, legs akimbo in his tipsy haste like some overgrown, bespectacled Bambi, Richie wrenches the sliding glass door open and steps out into the night air.

It's moments like these where he regrets having given up smoking back in the early 2000s. The bite of the Montana cold, coupled with the impressive view of glowing lights down below and twinkling stars up above, really made a man wanna spark one up for the hell of it.

He leans his elbows on the railing, letting his head hang low as he forces himself to breathe.

In and out. In and out. Just like a pregnant lady, Rich, you got this.

If he were an even bigger masochist than Stan thinks he is, Richie might torture himself with thoughts of those lonely, desperate weeks after Derry 2: Bigger, Longer and Uncut, hauled up alone in his room in Bangor, pouring over topographical maps of his shitty hometown and guzzling down more booze than air to keep the sound of Eddie’s dying voice from rattling around in his skull.

He would think of how a depression, deeper and sharper than anything he had ever felt even in his most closeted, isolated years, had wrapped around him like a vice as he avoided the Loser groupchat, his agent, his mom and his weed dealer, all while Facebook-stalking Myra Kaspbrak like a jealous ex-boyfriend.

His writers would have had a fucking field day with that one.

‘I cried over my dead best friends’ wife’s profile pic ‘cause her husband still had that dimple in his cheek that I always wanted to poke as a kid, and that’s not a euphemism, folks…’

But instead, as he stands there on Ben’s admittedly impressive balcony, shivering his ass off being not-so-subtly reminded just how fucking close to Canada he is right now in the month of November, all he can think of is how nice Eddie’s hand, warm and so, so alive, had felt on his arm.

“You left your jacket.”

The voice shouldn’t startle him, but it does. His grip tightens on the railing as his jacket is draped over his shoulders, a soft pressure against his biceps as Eddie slides his hands down his arms.

Richie can’t blame Canada’s proximity for the shiver that racks his body at that.

“Thanks.”

His voice sounds like he has spent the last hour swallowing glass, which, considering their topic of discussion, he would have preferred doing.

Eddie steps back, taking his warm touch with him as he settles next to Richie (who makes quick work of slipping on the coat), also leaning on the rail and looking out at the view.

A beat passes.

Two.

“When I was 27, I tried to kill myself.”

Richie tenses, jaw slackening. He isn’t sure exactly what he had expected Eddie to open with, but it sure as shit wasn’t that.

“I took an overdose of prescription meds in a hotel in Jersey after convincing my mom I was on a work retreat.”

Richie holds his breath, not moving a muscle as he surreptitiously surveys Eddie from the corner of his eye. He looks...not calm, but resigned, almost. Richie isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or not.

“I woke up in the hospital three days later,” he shuffles his weight, blowing out a breath that they can both see in the night air.

“A maid found me. Called an ambulance. Saved my life.”

Richie’s stomach lurches, an ominous feeling overcoming him.

“That maid was Myra.”

“Fuck.”

Richie hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but Eddie nods all the same.

“Yeah. To this day, I’ve managed to convince her that the overdose was accidental. I—I think that's partly why she was so fucking militant about me taking my pills over the years. Something mom definitely passed down to her,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, before turning to face Richie.

Even as every atom in his body screams not to, Richie turns to face him back.

Their eyes lock.

“I had nobody, Richie. No one. I had never been in a relationship, had never been in love or had someone be in love with me. I had no best friend, or a casual friend to meet for coffee, or even a work friend to bitch about nosy Brian in accounting to. I was lonely. So, fucking lonely.”

Richie’s heart pangs painfully in his chest. He can see him, a late-twenties Eddie Kaspbrak, much like he is now except younger, all buttoned up and reserved until you piss him off and then he’s wildfire, all karate chop hands and acid tongue, hiding a soft, gooey center that only a lucky few ever get to see…

“And marrying Myra, my ‘saviour’, someone that my mother approved of, didn’t help, either,” Eddie sighs again, “sure, she came with ‘couple-friends’ and brunches at the weekends and Lance my ‘workout bro,’ but I was still fucking miserable. Still had no one I could call a genuine close friend or even a decent acquaintance. Nobody knew much more about me other than I liked my coffee black and my small talk non-existent. For a whole fucking decade, I went through life like that. Like a guest star in my own depressing show.”

He pauses, tilting his head, something unreadable swimming in his gaze.

“And then, thirteen years later, I got a phone call from Derry,” he smiles gently, “and suddenly, I remembered The Losers. I remembered I had friends. The best group of friends on the planet. I had felt love before. I had loved and been loved. I had people who knew me, inside and out. Every little piece of me had been accepted, not rejected, ever.”

His smile twists.

“Until I forgot.”

Richie blinks, not entirely shocked to feel the wet trail of a tear slipping down his face.

Eddie steps closer, hand reaching out to rest on the one Richie still had leaning on the railing.

“Remembering the Losers, even just for those three days, made me feel more alive than I had in twenty-three years,” he half-whispers, gaze boring a hole into Richie.

“Remembering you…”

He trails off, a little line forming in between his eyebrows as he chooses his next words.

“Remembering the last time I saw you, saying goodbye to you on The Kissing Bridge, crying my eyes out—Richie, I’ve never felt pain like that since. And I’ve been impaled.”

A surprised laugh escapes Richie’s chest, then, bubbling up his throat.

Eddie joins in, tickled by his joke landing. Richie always did say he was funnier than he had ever been. And he still is.

It’s between one breath and the next, that Eddie slides his hand down Richie’s arm to rest on his hand, squeezing gently.

“The Deadlights would have killed you,” he continued, quiet but firm, “and there’s no way in hell I would ever let that happen to you, Rich. You were my best friend. Still are my best friend, even after all those years apart. You said I’m braver than I think, and I believed you because you said it. So, yeah. I died saving you...and I’d do it again.”

Richie goes to pull away, a noise of disagreement clawing up his throat.

“No, no, Richie, listen to me,” Eddie tightened his grip on his hand, “I—you may not think you deserved to be saved at my expense. But you’re wrong. And what’s done is done. I died. I came back. And I’d do it all over again if it meant that you got to live. Okay? Once that goofy kid with glasses who did bad voices and made up dumb nicknames for me that I fucking loved with everything in me got to stay alive, then it was all worth it. And nothing you say will ever change my mind."

I'm in love with you. Have been for thirty years. Would that change your mind, Eds?

After a pause where it becomes obvious Richie isn't going to say anything, Eddie tilts his head, eyes narrowing a little.

"You were in Bangor the day I called you," he says lightly, but Richie hears the heavy implication all the same.

"Over a month after I died and you still hadn't left Maine."

It's not a question, more of an observation, really. But Richie knows Eddie has been itching to discuss it ever since they reunited back on the land of the living the very same day Eddie called from the hospital, scarred but freshly breathing.

Another beat passes where Eddie, in a show of patience he is not well known for, waits Richie out.

“I couldn’t…” Richie rasps when the silence becomes too much, “I couldn’t just leave you, Eds.”

Eddie’s hand on his tightens.

"You really would have done anything to get me out, huh?"

His voice is low, his eyes shining against the night stars.

Richie feels like he’s in some sort of Nicholas Sparks novel. Except with 50% less death, 100% gayer and 150% more cursing.

He nods.

"And you…” Eddie swallows as if struggling to get the words out, “you would have stayed with me if you couldn't?"

He nods again.

Suddenly, Eddie is lunging and pulling him down into a tight, all-encompassing hug that knocks Richie’s breath from his lungs.

“I’d do the same,” Eddie mumbles into Richie’s shoulder, his mouth pressing against his jacket’s collar, “you know that, right?”

Richie nods yet again, feeling like he’s slowly turning into one of those drinking-bird-toy-things that boring people have on their desks in corporate offices. He doesn’t need to see Eddie’s office to know he doesn’t have one. He’s far too interesting.

Eddie mustn’t be satisfied with his nodding bird routine however as he soon breaks the hug and steps back slightly, clasping Richie’s biceps in his hands, his stare unwavering up at him.

“Richie, I mean it. You’re my best friend in the whole world. I may not have remembered you, not fully, just bits and pieces, but I...I carried the pain of losing you for over twenty years. I’d...I’d do anything for you.”

Emotion wells up Richie’s chest, unshed tears stinging his eyes.

“You know why I brought you to the Kissing Bridge that day I was leaving?”

What the fuck are you doing, Trashmouth?!

Eddie’s eyebrows slowly rise up his forehead as he thinks back to one of the worst days in Richie’s life.

“Uh, you...you said you had something to tell me,” he murmurs in confusion.

Richie stares down at him, at those dark brown, bush-baby eyes he never fully forgot, his heart in his throat.

'That I fucking loved with everything in me,' rings in Richie's ears as he forces out:

“Do you remember what I told you?”

Eddie frowns that adorable frown of his, “Yeah, man. You told me you fucked my mom, then got snot all over my sweater pretending you weren’t crying.”

Richie lets out a huff of a laugh at his transparent sixteen year old self, even as his brain continues going all Kill-Bill-sirens on him.

“That wasmy very own version of ‘As you wish’, Eds. What can I say? It’s a—"

“From The Princess Bride?”

Fuck. Kinda showed your hand there, Trashmouth.

“Uh...yeah.”

Something passes over Eddie’s face that Richie has seen many times before, both as kids and as recently as this very night. His heart lurches as Eddie leans even closer to him, his hands brushing up and down Richie’s arms, leaving a path of heat.

“What did you really wanna tell me?”

This is it. This is your do or die moment, asshole.

I know your secret. Your dirty, little—

“I fucked your dad too.”

Something shutters down over Eddie’s eyes, dimming them as Richie cringes, cursing himself and his cowardice, nausea swirling in his gut as he watches him step away, dropping his arms from Richie and huffing out a laugh that sounded anything but amused.

He takes a step back towards the door, face unreadable.

“Okay, Rich. Alright. It’s cold, I’m just gonna—”

Richie’s hand shoots out to grab his wrist gently, stopping him in his tracks.

“No, Eds wait—I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay? I...I’m bad at this. I talk trash, remember? I’m not...not good with serious shit. I don’t know how—”

“I deleted my Grindr profile.”

If Richie had the life of Ferris Bueller, now would be the time that a loud record-scratch would sound to alert the audience of his sheer astonishment.

“...What?”

Eddie isn’t looking at him anymore, but rather down at Richie’s fingers around his wrist.

“I said I deleted Grindr. I...I realised that I didn’t wanna find someone on a dumb hook-up app.”

Richie blinks, his brain fried by the turn in conversation.

Eddie tilts his head, heaving in a breath, “Especially ‘cause…I already have someone I wanna spend all my time with.”

Slowly, he twists his wrist so that Richie’s hand falls open and he takes the opportunity to brush their fingers together.

Richie stops breathing.

Holy shit. Is he…?

“Rich.”

He lets Eddie’s voice coax his gaze up, biting his bottom lip to try and compose himself as he shakily admits:

“I carved initials into the Kissing Bridge that Summer.”

He can practically feel Eddie opening his mouth to say something, so he rushes on, lest he lose his nerve.

“We weren’t talking. Me and Bill had had our fight, I said some shitty things, Bill punched me in the face, and you were practically on house arrest after breaking your arm so Mrs K had banned me from seeing you. I had never felt so alone as I did those few weeks. I...I kept going to the arcade and thought I’d maybe made a new friend, but...” he blew out a breath, running his free hand through his hair, “Bowers showed up, did his whole homophobic bully schtick, you know. So I fled, ended up at the Paul Bunyan statue. Then the clown showed up and it was really a party.”

I know your secret...your dirty, little—

“Bringing the statue to life, singing his little songs, taunting me with truth or dare...but none of it worked. I still did it. I stole Went’s pocket-knife from his toolkit and I booked it over to the Kissing Bridge anyway. Because it—I had to let it out. I had to say it somehow. And if it couldn’t be out loud, then it would sure as shit be right up there with every other lovesick asshole in our crappy hometown.”

He takes a steadying breath, surprised at how the words keep flowing from him, as if the dam that he had carefully constructed around his heart all those years ago, had finally broken. He stares directly down into Eddie’s eyes, those wide eyes that he had recurring dreams about even when his childhood was a foggy haze, his heartbeat a crescendo in his chest.

“I carved our initials, Eds. R plus E. Richie and Eddie.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open, ever so slightly. Richie probably wouldn’t have even noticed if it wasn't for the fact that his gaze had been alternating between Eddie’s eyes and lips for the last few minutes.

A beat passes.

Two.

Three.

The sirens in Richie’s head are blaring.

Well, you’ve done it now, asshole. You’ve ruined everything with your stupid—

“I carved a heart,” Eddie whispers finally, lacing their fingers together and squeezing, “a shitty, misshapen heart around the letter ‘R.’ For ‘Richie.’”

Oh.

“Ed—”

Richie is cut off when he's abruptly yanked down by his jacket as Eddie surges up, their lips crashing together in a desperate kiss. His heart soars as Eddie’s free hand slides up his chest to cup the back of his neck. He gasps as he feels the faintest brush of Eddie’s tongue along his bottom lip.

With a broken moan that he will one hundred percent deny later, Richie opens his mouth, deepening the kiss, Eddie licking in behind his teeth and causing a flood of warmth to spread in his abdomen as he reaches out to clasp Eddie’s hip tightly, pulling him flush against his chest.

Richie winds his arm around Eddie’s lower back as he nips playfully at his lower lip, just like he always daydreamed about doing when he was a hormonal, pining teenager.

“Shit, Rich,” Eddie gasps against his lips as they break for air, tilting up on his tip-toes (cute, cute, cute!) to bring their foreheads together.

“I—I…” Richie swallows around the lump in his throat, overwhelmed as he opens his eyes, “I saw us. In the deadlights.”

It’s not what he intended to say. In fact, he had wanted to say something else entirely. Something sexy, or flirty, or god help him sincere, anything but downright traumatic, but such is his life.

Eddie leans back a little to blink at him. Waiting.

Generally, Richie doesn’t like thinking about it. About any of what he had seen in the godforsaken hellscape that was Pennywise’s...mouth? Whatever. And he hadn’t lied, he really did see all the Losers’ gruesome deaths. But it was what he saw after, in the sparse few moments before he woke up to Eddie Kaspbrak, love of his pitiful life, leaning over him, smile elated just before things took a turn for the absolute worst.

“I saw...us,” he murmurs, letting himself cast his mind back to the memory that had been too painful for him to entertain in those following weeks, months, over a year since. Even with Eddie alive again. Perhaps because of Eddie being alive again, even. So close and yet so far from that vision he had seen.

“We were…” he closes his eyes, lets the image come to the forefront of his mind. “We were standing like this. Close. Smiling. Our arms around each other. Kissing at the kitchen table at home.”

He keeps his eyes closed as he feels Eddie’s fingers rake through his hair.

“You were making pancakes, and I was putting too much sugar in my coffee like I always do. And...and then you just leaned in, put your arm around my waist and kissed me. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. And I kissed back. Like I’d done it a million times before. It seemed to last forever...and then I woke up.”

“Oh, Richie,” Eddie mumbles, sounding bereft, no doubt realising what Richie had awoken to.

“I’m so sorr—”

“Don’t.”

Richie’s eyes fly open, desperate for Eddie’s gaze again.

“Don’t apologise, Eddie. Please. It wasn't your fault. You were a hero, you saved my life. And I know I have conflicting thoughts on it but...but I never want you to feel bad. Never.”

Eddie nods, still looking pained.

“So you stayed.”

Richie’s not sure if he means in Neibolt, or Maine in general, but nods all the same.

“I stayed.”

Eddie blows out a breath, it tickling Richie’s cheek.

“Fuck. I love you so much. I always have.”

Richie’s breath punches out of his chest, the surge of emotion overwhelming him. He squeezes his hand and tips his head down, resting their foreheads together.

“E-Eds, oh my god,” he rasps, cursing his voice that’s noticeably thick and at least an octave higher, “I’ve been in love with you for practically my whole life. Back when we shared hammocks and comics and I called you dumb names in dumber voices just to get you to look at me. I’ve never loved anyone else. Even...even when I couldn’t remember you, I could in a way. Feel...feel the gap in my life where you used to be. Feel the pain of missing you. Ever since I set foot in that haunted fucking restarant, I can’t remember how it feels to not love you.”

He tilts his head back to meet Eddie’s gaze, surprised to see tears gathering at the corner of his eyes.

God, we’re saps.

“Aww, Eds…” he teases gently, unable to stop himself, “did Trashmouth make you—”

It’s another kiss, not a ‘beep beep’ like he expects that cuts him off. This one is more chaste, just a pressing of smiles really, but still makes his toes curl and his blood sing and his entire body feel like it’s a fireworks display on the 4th of July.

“Hmmmm,” he grins as Eddie breaks the kiss, “now that’s the kinda ‘beep beep Richie’ I could get used to.”

He can practically feel him roll his eyes.

“Beep, beep, asshole.”

It’s somewhat lessened by the fact that it’s immediately followed by another peck to the cheek and a snappy retort of “Just putting my tongue to better use,” into his collarbone.

Richie chuckles into the slope of Eddie’s neck, “‘Better use’ is right, Eds. Now, is this where we take our shirts off and kiss, or...?”

Eddie groans, forehead falling to Richie’s shoulder, no doubt remembering his little drunken slip when they arm-wrestled back in the Jade.

“In this weather? Fuck no. Maybe later though. Under one of those huge fucking afghan blankets that Ben has draped in every guest room.”

Richie is hit by the very confusing duel-feeling of potent sexual arousal and childlike excitement at that suggestion, and even has to physically stop himself from bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Oh my god, Eds. Can we push our twin beds together to make a double? I always wanted to do that when we were kids.”

Eddie snorts, shaking his head.

“Sure, Rich. We can make a fort while we’re at it. Really relive the glory days.”

Richie gives him a playful squeeze to the hip.

“Hey! Our forts were the shit. We had the best sleepovers.”

Something glints in Eddie’s eye, then.

“Yeah we did. I have a feeling they’ll get even better now.”

Molten heat tugs low in Richie’s gut.

“Fuck yeah they will.”

They share a grin before Eddie’s eyes drop to something over Richie’s shoulder.

Richie chuckles.

“They’re watching us, aren’t they?”

Eddie keeps looking, tilting his head.

“Yep.”

“ENJOYING THE SHOW, YOU PERVERTS?” Richie yells behind him, cackling as Eddie shoves him, shushing him with a “shut up, you animal! Ben has fucking neighbours!”

A flurry of muted noise can be heard as eight fully-grown adults, clearly caught snooping, scramble back into the living room.

Richie turns just in time to see Bev’s fiery hair disappear around the corner. He smiles softly at the sight. He has some apologies to make.

“Come on, Eds. Back to the Losers of the Rectangular Table we go,” he throws an arm around Eddie’s shoulder, leaning down to kiss his temple.

“Losers of the Rectangular Table?” Eddie asks, miraculously allowing himself to be steered back into the house.

“Yeah, you know,” Richie gives a half-shrug as they slide the door closed and creep through the kitchen, “like Knights of the Round Table. Except with less swords and more psychological trauma.”

He feels Eddie’s chuckle rumble against his chest as they enter the living room still wrapped around one another, to find the Losers (Patty, Adrian and Don all considered new members now) playing what looked like a game of poker.

Nobody acknowledges them as they sit back down, their arms pressed against one another, Stan merely dealing them in and Bev sliding fresh drinks in their direction, a soft, knowing smile on her face.

“You gonna be my good luck charm, Spagheds? You are way cuter than a rabbit’s foot,” Richie wiggles his eyebrows as he squeezes Eddie’s knee under the table.

“Stop flirting with me and pick up your hand, dumbass,” Eddie faux-grouses, trying and failing to hide his grin.

“Aww, Eds! I’ve been flirting with you since 1986. Thanks for finally noticing.”

Eddie splutters, knocking their elbows as he whips around to gape at him.

“You have not!”

“Yep.” “He has too.” “He definitely has.” “Yeah he has.” “He has 100%.” The O.G. Losers all reply in unison, still looking at their cards.

Richie glances fondly around the table at all his favourite people in the world, eyes falling on Eddie Kaspbrak last, and laughs.

(More Reddie fics)

[songbirdstyles]

bang a gong.

summary: you’re tired of being a virgin, and when you meet harry at a bar, he’s more than happy to help you out.

warnings: literally all porn, very little plot. fingering, m+f receiving oral, dom!harry

word count: 11.1k

listen to while reading: bang a gong (get it on) by t. rex

You should say - for the record, or perhaps to maintain your dignity - that this is never the type of place you’d generally be caught in.

If you hadn’t been dragged from your faux pretense of nonchalance after you got dumped, you never would have come. It wasn’t like it was a serious relationship - barely two months - but it was your first since graduating college and perhaps you thought, maybe, you were in with this guy for the long haul, but he didn’t agree. You suppose it was a silly thought (your friends had told you not to expect too much from a former frat boy, anyway.) And it did prove to be, anyway, dissipating the second you woke up to a text saying he didn’t reckon things were working out, and could he please have his hoodie back?

Whatever. You hadn’t been too sad but your friends insisted you needed to let go of him and that is exactly why you’re here, pressed into a booth at a high end nightclub you can’t afford, your friends and the randoms they’d pulled from the dance floor packed so tight that you can feel your thighs sticking to the leather seats and to each other. You hadn’t intended on drinking anything because the prices of the drinks would absolutely kill your bank account, but that, according to your friends, is exactly why you’re here - meet rich guys who frequent here, to have drinks bought for you with false promises of a night of fun, before leaving them high and dry while you are thoroughly drunk.

A good concept, in theory, and it was enough to tug you off of the couch and dig through your closet to find a suitable dress to wear. Perhaps you’d support it more, though, if you had any experience in seducing guys at all - the entire night, you’d merely been grabbing the extra shots your friends had gotten from the guys they’d located.

“Aren’t you having fun?” your friend asks, and you turn to look at her from where she sits next to you. The music is thumping some song you can’t recognize and it rings in your ears as you raise your eyebrows at her. Speak louder, your eyebrows say, and Natalie leans closer so her lips are nearly brushing your ear. “I said, are you having fun?”

Are you? Well, you’re not sure. Even if you’d done nothing to earn the two shots you’d downed, they did taste better than the cheap bars you and your friends frequented on weekends. And it was entertaining, watching guys nearly twice your age seriously believe they’d end up between the sheets with your friends later. So you shrug, bringing your hand to fan at your neck, trying desperately to alleviate the heat burning at your skin. “It’s alright.”

It’s good enough for Natalie and she turns back to Valerie, whose legs are swung over the lap of some 50 year old who had got you all your second round of shots. His hand is pressed to her waist, fingertips digging into her skin through her dress, and it makes your stomach churn to see, so you drop your eyes to the table, where you’ve been picking at your screen protector for the past 15 minutes.

It’s times like this you wish you were a lightweight but you barely feel tipsy, and you’d like nothing more than to rip away your inhibitions and go out and dance against some guy who you’ll never see again, but you find it too awkward to do while practically sober. You bring your eyes up to scan at the dance floor - God, there’s so many girls with the same ideas you had, presumably. The demographic of this club is rich old men and broke, early-20s girls and you don’t know how much you really like to be one of them.

Though you can’t deny that the drinks are good.

“Stop thinking so much!” you glance back at Natalie with your brows furrowed. You hate the way she can practically feel what you’re thinking because you’d have been more than happy to tug at your screen protector until it peeled off of your entirely-too-vulnerable phone but she’d never allow it. Never let you sit here, in this booth, while everyone else is having a good time. Sometimes you appreciate it and sometimes you don’t and you aren’t quite sure of how you’re feeling about it now. “You know what I think?”

You can’t fucking hear her and you lean your head in more, awating her response as your narrowed eyes look around the crowd on the dance floor again. No one catches your eye but nobody catches your eye here, either, and you reckon you’d have better luck roaming the streets of LA to find someone worth your time.

“I think you should go get laid,” Natalie tells you, and you exhale, a humorless smile turning your lips up. “I’m serious! There has to be some hot, rich guy here. What, did that guy fuck you so good you never want anyone else again?”

The thought of being pinned under any guy that your eyes are glazing over could make you gag, but you reckon she may be right. Unbeknownst to your friends, you’d never fucked anyone and you hadn’t necessarily felt the need - you’d done just about everything else under the sun, and not a single guy you’d given a blowie to, or who’d fingered you, had ever been able to find the spot that made you squirm more than anything. So you’d never quite understood why having someone’s dick inside of you was such a big deal but you can’t deny, now, that getting it out of the way does sound quite nice, solely to boost your self esteem after getting dumped by a graduated frat boy named Logan.

There wasn’t much of a bigger blow to your ego than that.

You tug your gloss-coated bottom lip in between your teeth, dropping your eyes back down to Natalie’s, and she widens her eyes at you in a way that further encourages you to get the whole virginity thing out of the way. It’s not like it matters, anyway. “Maybe,” you tell her, entirely too quiet compared to the music pulsing through the club, and she smiles, leaning back in the booth. You’re not sure if she heard you because you can’t hear whatever she says next, but it doesn’t matter - you’re already pushing your way out of the booth, calling excuse me to where Alexa is leaning close to the man she’d found (and he’s, by far, the most attractive of any of the three guys your friends had located, but Alexa has always been the best at finding the hottest guys, and you’re nearly positive she actually will end up fucking him tonight.) She leans forward so you can climb behind her, awkwardly in your heels, and you tug at one of her curls as you clamber out of the booth.

Working your way through a crowd of people to the bar is a skill you’ve all but mastered and at a club like this, it’s a lot easier than you’d expected. There’s less people dancing than you’d thought though you shouldn’t be shocked - it certainly isn’t like the usual clubs you go to. And so, you push your way through the people dancing to the bar, and there’s a few people spread out on the barstools. You scan the back of them - you can’t see any of their faces, naturally, so you merely judge from their hair, and you take a few steps forward and settle yourself onto a stool besides a man with messy brown curls, a pint of beer in front of him.

When you peek at his side profile he certainly looks younger than you’d expected - hardly older than you, if at all. And that’s a score for you, you figure. You’d much prefer to lose your virginity to someone who doesn’t seem like they could be your dad. But he is wearing sunglasses and that’s a bit weird - certainly not a dealbreaker but odd enough to make you wonder.

You aren’t sure what to say - should’ve listened closer when Natalie, Valerie or Alexa were seducing their men for drinks - and for a moment you sit in silence. 

It’s only when you turn your head to take another look at him, at the sunglasses sitting at the very top of his nose, that the silence between you two is broken, and his head tilts ever so slightly towards you. “What’re you looking at?”

God, his voice. You’d always had a thing for British accents and his is better than most, deep and raspy and slow, and you shift on your stool. And it sounds just a bit familiar but you can’t exactly pinpoint where - well, it doesn’t matter. If things go further between you two, tonight, you surmise he’d forever be the sexiest voice you’d slept with.

But you can’t get your hopes up. After all, the sunglasses in a dimly lit, fancy club is enough to make you just a bit suspicious of what type of person he is, and you refuse to hand over your V-card to a weirdo.

“Just wondering what your glasses are for.” Figure it’s best to figure that out before you let this get any further. You don’t want to waste your time. And you pointedly glance up at the ceiling, eyes darting around the walls of the club. “S’not like there’s much light here to protect your eyes from, is there?”

He chuckles, then, and you raise your eyebrows. “Guess I just don’t want people to see me,” he tells you, and when he turns to face you fully your eyes scan over his face and - God, he really does look familiar. And he sounds familiar. Have you met him before? No, you don’t think you could ever forget someone like him.

But - well, maybe. You weren’t necessarily known for having the keenest of memories.

You smile at him, brows creasing together. He certainly does seem to be a mystery and you’d love to uncover it in more ways than one. So you lean forward, resting your arm on the bartop. “Seems like the wrong kind of place, if you don’t want people to see you.”

“I reckon it’s working - you’re the first person to talk to me all night.” A hand - a large hand, you note - goes up to his hair, fingers brushing through his curls, and your eyes follow its path in a way that certainly isn’t anywhere close to subtle. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

Is he flirting with you? You’re not quite sure but God, you hope so, because so far he keeps getting better and better to you. So you turn to completely face him and you can see the small smirk on his lips, as if he knows what he’s doing to you without even having to try. “Are you going to tell me your name?”

You can see his eyebrows raise as he picks up his beer and takes a sip. Your eyes can’t help but follow every movement he makes and you don’t care if you look desperate - truthfully, you are. You hadn’t even seen his face in its entirety but you suspect your friends would be impressed if they could see the sort of guy you’d located. Even if you leave this club and never see him again, you’re not sure you could ever forget the way he’s making your stomach flip just with a small quirk of his lips.

When he’s set his drink down again and brought his wrist up to wipe at the beer still lingering on his lips - is that a Gucci watch? - he tilts his head at you, curls flopping, and then says, “Tell me yours first,” so you do. And he nods slowly before telling you, “My name is Harry.”

Harry. 

Your mind is whirring because suddenly the pieces are coming together - and you hadn’t been in your One Direction phase for a few years but you certainly know who Harry is. And the fact that you’re just sitting here, right now, talking to him in a club filled with too many other girls to count, seems like an accomplishment in itself. But you don’t want him to know you know, though surely he must assume you do, so you nod in the same fashion he did, as if you’re content with what he’d told you.

“Harry,” you repeat, as if testing the name out on your tongue. He spins his stool slightly so he’s facing you and your knees knock into his slightly. And then you raise your eyebrows at him, reaching down to tug your dress down slightly where it’s been riding up on your thighs, and you don’t miss the way his eyes follow your movements. “Are you going to let me see your eyes, Harry?”

Harry laughs slightly and then stands, and you look up at him, confusion blazing in your eyes. Is he leaving? God, you hope not. You don’t want your experience with him to be over before it's begun, no matter what it ends up being. But then he motions, with one finger, for you to follow him and you’re standing so fast your head is spinning, and you trail after him as he leads you through the crowd of people, and you crane your neck to try and see where your friends are but you can’t see them anywhere.

It’s fine by you, you decide, as Harry stops in front of a small, darkened booth towards the back of the club. You’re surprised but positively overjoyed that it’s empty - seems like the perfect type of table for anyone looking to get lucky. And, Christ, you are.

You slide into the booth and Harry slides in right next to you, leaving hardly a few inches between you two as he rests his arm against the back of the booth oso he can face you, and, beneath the table, your ankle links with his. You give him a moment to see if he’ll pull his foot loose from yours, but he never does, and it makes your heart race.

“Gonna take off your glasses for me, Harry?” you tilt your head forward - where you’d moved to is closer to the source of the music and it’s harder to hear, all of a sudden, but you can’t bring yourself to pretend that’s why your face gets so close to his. His breath smells like beer and mints, and you can see the smirk spreading further across his face. “I’ve been dying to see your eyes. Bet they’re pretty.” And you’re not quite sure where this confidence is coming from, because you’ve hardly tried to seduce anyone like this, but you’ll lay it on thick for him.

He’s different.

He chuckles and you can feel his breath, hot against your face. It sends a shiver down your spine and you hope the instinct was imperceptible. “Take them off for me, then,” and you do, reaching up to pull the glasses off his nose, and you can tell - just by the feeling of them in your hands - that they’re more expensive than anything you’d ever held in your life. 

As if everything before this wasn’t proof enough that you truly were talking to Harry Styles, sliding the glasses down his nose and meeting his eyes really validates it. You can’t help the way your lips part as you reach down to rest his sunglasses on the sticky table and you hope you don’t look as amazed as you’re feeling.

God, you have to be dreaming. The guy you cherry pick from the randoms sitting at a bar is - him. And you’re sitting with him, his fingers dancing across your shoulder blade where his arm is thrown lazily over the back of the booth, your ankles intertwined.

16-year-old you never could’ve believed it, but 22-year old you is having the time of her life.

“You look a bit shocked,” Harry murmurs, barely heard over the pounding music, but you hear it as clearly as if he’d yelled it in your ear.

You shift your mouth closer to his ear, so close that you know your lips graze his skin when you tell him, “Prettier than I’d expected, s’all.” It’s then - with a start - that you feel his other hand drop to your knee, pressing circles into your soft skin. You could nearly moan at the feeling and you know, suddenly, that this’ll definitely go where you want it to, assuming you don’t fuck it up.

And you won’t. Won’t let this opportunity go to waste.

“Ah.” When he tilts his head ever so slightly your lips are hardly a centimeter apart and with one shift forward you could close the gap, press your mouth to his, slip your tongue into his mouth. Force this into exactly the direction you need it to go, feel his hands drop to your hips, pulling you into his lap, cock hard against your core where your dress is riding up your hips.

As soon as you start to lean in, to make every fantasy you’ve had a reality, you feel two fingers, harsh against your shoulder, and they don’t belong to Harry.

You glance up, eyes narrowing at whoever had disrupted you, and standing in front of your booth is Alexa, wearing a small smile reeking of both excitement and guilt. And you can’t bring yourself to be mad at her for interrupting you, even though you want to, as she drops your phone onto the table.

“Sorry for interrupting,” she calls above the music, and you roll your eyes, leaning over Harry’s shoulder to move your head closer to his. In your ear you can hear him groan softly as your chest presses against his, and you can feel his arm that had been over the top of the booth drop to wrap around your waist - exactly where you’d wanted to feel it. “We’re gonna head out. Are you going to come?” The question is innocent but you can tell she already knows the answer as her eyes drop down to Harry’s arm, secure around your waist, fingers rubbing patterns into your hip through your tight, black dress.

“No,” you tell her, and Harry squeezes your hips in approval. “No, I’m gonna stay.”

“Are you sure?”

It’s then that Harry turns his head to look at her, effectively pressing your bodies closer than you’d thought they could go, and you can see the exact moment Alexa recognizes him - the way her eyes widen and her lips part into a smile. You’re not sure if she’s simply shocked that she’s seeing Harry in person or if she’s surprised you’re wrapped around him, but either way, she looks absolutely shell-shocked. “Promise I’ll take good care of her,” Harry tells your friend, and the double entendre makes you shift slightly, thighs rubbing against each other. 

He better take good care of you.

You bring your hand up to wave to Alexa and you can’t hear the response she squeaks out before she’s gone, and you don’t look to see her go back to your friends. You merely lean back, just a bit, pressing your hands to Harry’s shoulder to look at him.

“Gonna take good care of me, then?” you raise your eyebrows and you can see Harry’s pupils dilating as he stares at you, and you shift closer to him, practically in his lip. The music changes, then, and you hadn’t been paying attention to it before but now, Bang a Gong seems quite fitting for the moment. “Hope you follow through on that.”

It’s then that he leans forward, eliminating the distance between your faces as his lips press to yours. And you hardly have a moment to even comprehend it as his hand rises to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him, and you moan into his mouth just about immediately. Harry’s tongue slips into your mouth and one of your hands drags up to the back of his neck, nails tracing along his sweaty skin. You’re not sure you’ve ever truly appreciated being kissed until right now, feeling his lips slotted against yours, the way his hand is pushing further up your thigh until his fingertips are creeping up the cheap material of your black dress.

You only pull away when you need to catch your breath, and Harry’s arm keeps you so close to him that the thought of regaining your composure seems too far away to consider. You’re not sure you’ll ever recover from that and you know there’s so fucking much more to come and you truly have scored, even if you only end up with kiss swollen lips to show for it.

But you reckon he has a thing for hickeys. It’s just a vibe you get from some guys, and as soon as the thought settles into your brain Harry proves it - mouth moving down to just below your jaw, and you drop your head back with a whine as you feel him beginning to suck a dark mark into your skin. His hand on your hip clutches your dress between his fingers, pulling the material tighter to your body than you’d even thought it could go, and it’s all the leverage he needs to pull you as close to him as you can go without being on top of him.

Which - you aren’t opposed to, but you’d always pictured your first time being below an incredibly handsome man.

(Though, you hadn’t ever pictured your first time being with your teenage crush, so you shouldn’t start relying on your fantasies now, you guess.)

When you shift your leg so it’s hooked across his, he pauses, pulling back to glance at the mark he’d left on your skin. In the dim light in the back of the club you’re not sure how well he’d be able to see it, but he grins as he examines it. Your fingers tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck and you can feel him shiver beneath you and it makes your clit throb. “I think,” he tells you, leaning in so his mouth is right at the bottom of your ear, and you fight back a whimper at how deep his voice had gotten - dropped nearly an octave since the last time he spoke. “I think we should take this somewhere else.”

Harry squeezes your bare thigh, then, fingers just a few inches from the hem of your panties. You’d let him pin you to the booth, fuck you hard where anyone could walk by and see but - of course - that isn’t feasible. And as much as you truly do not care about losing your virginity, you don’t think you want it to be here, so you nod your approval. In an instant he’s out of the booth, fingers wrapped around your wrist and tugging you out after him. You grab his sunglasses and your phone, resting on the sticky table. You stumble as soon as you stand up and you’re not sure why - you think you’re just a bit overwhelmed with everything that had happened in the past 20 minutes, and the fact that Harry fucking Styles is almost certainly taking you to bed.

“Hang on,” you tell him, and when he turns to look back at you with an eyebrow raised, you reach forward to perch his glasses on top of his nose, preserving the anonymity you knew he wanted. He smiles slightly as he reaches up to push them further up his nose, and then he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him as you begin to walk towards the door.

Your friends are gone, you note, as you pass the booth you’d occupied earlier. Your phone, firm in your hand, has been buzzing incessantly since Alexa dropped it off but you haven’t bothered to check what the notifications are - your friends, surely wondering what you were doing, where you were going, when you would be home. And you didn’t know, truly, but you hoped it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

Harry pulls you through the doors of the club into the moist, nighttime air, and immediately you’re shivering - it’s chilly, just a bit. Not too bad, but you can tell it’s just rained by the way your foot sinks into a puddle of water, soaking through your cheap black heels.

You pay it no mind - just keep walking in pace with him, wondering, briefly, if there’ll be a time when you wake up from this. Perhaps right as he slides inside of you, filling you up so good, you’ll squeeze your eyes shut and moan and when you open them you’ll be in your bed, staring up at the ceiling and wishing you didn’t have such a rampant imagination.

There’s no way this can truly be real but at the same time it is - the way his fingers tap against your hip feels so real. The way he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple as he turns you both down the street, it feels like it can’t possibly be a dream.

“What are you thinking about?” his voice sends vibrations rolling through your body and now that you’re free of music blaring through your head, muffling every word the pair of you spoke, you can appreciate it more - the rasp in his tone, how deep and slow he speaks. You could nearly moan at that but you hold back, biting on your tongue to prevent any loose noises from slipping out.

You lean up so your mouth is close to his ear like you had in the club, even though there’s no music surrounding you to make it necessary - you like the way he tightens his grip on your hip when you breathe against his ear. “Just wondering where you’re taking me.”

That wasn’t, in fact, what you were thinking about, but you didn’t think you could muster up the courage right now to tell him how bad you want him inside of you.

Harry points down the street and you squint to what he’s motioning to - “Have a driver waiting for me. Gonna take us to my hotel room, not too far from here.”

“And then what?”

He raises his eyebrow as he glances down at you, and you can see the amusement twinkling in his eyes even on such a dimly lit street. “And then -” he turns into a parking lot, just behind the club you’d been in, and you can hear the distant thumping music from inside - “I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

Christ. You nearly whimper just at the implication and your mind speeds off, leaving your body behind, imagining every single thing he could do to you - or you could do to him - or anything. You can picture a thousand different scenarios and every single one ends with you in his hotel bed, your V-card firmly in his pocket.

It’s then that Harry stops in front of a sleek, black car - raps two knuckles on the tinted window of the driver’s seat and it rolls down almost immediately, as though it had been waiting for his signal. You can’t hear what he murmurs to the driver as he ducks his head inside the window and you don’t strain your mind to try and listen - within a few seconds he’s stepping back, opening the door to the backseat and ushering you inside.

You’d never been in a nicer car before but you shouldn’t be shocked - the outfit he’s wearing tonight could pay your rent for the next four months. There’s a partition between the backseat and the front and you’re beyond thankful as Harry slides in beside you, slamming the door shut, and he doesn’t give you a moment to process anything before his lips are on yours.

You wouldn’t dream of complaining as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you, and he’s groaning into your mouth as his hand drifts downwards to cup your ass through your dress but it’s not enough for him and you can tell. Fingers push up the bottom of the cheap material so he can slip his hand beneath it, hand cold against the back of your thigh and he slides his hand further up until he’s groping your arse once more.

“Fuck,” you breathe, and you can feel Harry smirking against your lips - a smug bastard, he is, but you find you don’t truly care. You pull your mouth from his, feeling his teeth tugging at your bottom lip, but you’re hardly disconnected a moment before you throw your leg over his thighs, straddling him, and he moans like music to your ears. 

He uses his grip on your ass to force your hips to rock against the bulge, prominent even through his pants. His other hand tugs your dress up to your hips, letting the material bunch around your waist, and immediately his hand comes down hard on your ass - you squeal, dropping your forehead against his, as he rubs over the spot he’d just smacked.

“Y’like that?” You nod, pressing your lips to the side of Harry’s neck as he lands another slap down on your bum. Your hips press harder into his, feeling the pressure on your clit as you roll against him. “Yeah, know you do. Dirty girl.”

And - you’re not sure why - but you drop your lips to his ear, nibbling on his earlobe and feeling the way his cock twitches beneath you. “Can I tell you something?”

He nods, and you bring your hand up to his hair, running your fingers through his sweaty curls. Harry tilts his head to the side and your lips briefly brush, feather light, as you slow the pace your hips are rocking, savoring every brush of your panty clad clit against the material of his pants. “Anything,” he mutters, head dropping against the headrest, and you reach down to press your palm to his cock. God, he’s so hard and he feels so big too, too big to even fit in you, but you know damn well you’ll try your very best to make it work.

Even if you’ve never done it before, and before you can wonder if it’s the best time or thing to tell him, you lean in. “I’ve never had sex before.”

Harry certainly seems shocked and the way his lips part goes straight to your ego - do you seem so good at all of this that he’d suspected you’d done it time and time again? Maybe he’s confused as to why you told him and truthfully, you are, too. Just felt like the kind of thing he’d like to know. Your ex boyfriend had certainly wanted to know, and two days after you’d told him he’d ended things.

Maybe some guys don’t want to take girls’ virginities, but judging by the way Harry’s fingers dig further into your ass, you suspect he does.

“Never?” There’s the surprise thick in his voice and you nod, grasp on his cock tightening ever so slightly, and he groans beneath you. “God. Never would’ve thought. Bloody good at this.”

Yep, there’s your ego inflating, and you shrug. “Done just about everything else. Just haven’t gotten to the good part.” Another smack lands against your ass and you moan, pushing back against his palm as he smooths his hand over your skin.

He leans back, then, shifting his hips, and you can see his pupils dilating more and more as he glances down at the way your cunt presses to his cock - “Why don’t you show me what you can do, then?”

You’re much more than willing, and you lean in to give Harry one final kiss before pushing yourself off of him and sitting, on your knees, on the seat beside him. He’s watching you so intently you could almost feel judged but you love it - love the way he watches you push your hair behind you, how he reaches down to slowly undo the zipper of his fancy dress pants, but you wanna do it yourself. You push his hand away, wrapping your hand around his wrist, and surely he’s strong enough to resist the dominant act you’re playing if he wanted to but you can tell he doesn’t. You finish unzipping his pants and he lifts his hips slightly so you can shimmy them down his thighs, just enough so you’re face to face with his cock, thick and bulging through his briefs.

You don’t give yourself a moment to examine just how big he is - bigger than you’d anticipated when you were on top of him and when you’d felt him up. You’d sucked off plenty of guys and none of them came close to his size but you’ve mastered the faux confident facade as you shift backwards, leaning down with your ass high in the air to press a soft kiss against Harry’s cock through his boxers.

He groans, those glasses slipping down his nose, and his wandering fingers end up dancing down your back - you’re not sure where he’s going but you shift forward to give him easier access to your ass, if that’s what he wants, and your fingers hook in the waistband of his boxers to pull them over his cock.

Jesus, yeah, he is big. You wrap your hand around him, pumping experimentally a few times, listening to the way Harry moans brokenly. You wonder, briefly, when he’s last done this - he looks as though it’s been a bit too long but, well, you suppose you can’t judge how sensitive he is when just the feeling of his hand splayed across your lower back is wetting your panties faster than anything has before.

Lips press a wet kiss against the tip of his cock, just briefly, before you wrap your lips around his length and push our head down - a gurgled cry escapes his throat and you nearly smirk around him, taking him as far down your throat as you can until your nose is just about brushing his pelvis. Your hands press to his thighs and you can feel him growing stiffer in the confines of your mouth by the second. Fingers tangle in your hair, forcing your head down, and with any other guy you’d roll your eyes but there’s something different about him, something that makes you like the dominance. Any semblance of it that you’d had seconds before is gone and there’s a smack against your ass, causing you to cry out against his cock.

Normally you pull off of guys after 15 seconds (or so) but Harry doesn’t let you, holds you down, and you hollow your cheeks around him. Swallow, and his hips jerk up into your mouth, forcing a gag from you, and then he loosens his grip on your hair, allowing you to pull your mouth from him.

Harry’s breathing is heavy and his hand is groping your ass so tight it nearly hurts but the pleasure overpowers it and you push back against his hand. His fingers tug at your thong, slipping beneath it as you lap at the tip of his cock, and no sooner have his fingers circled your puckered hole - is he gonna do it? - that he slides them further down, running his digits through your soaked folds. 

“So - so fucking wet -” his voice cracks as you take him down your throat again but his hand doesn’t force your head down like last time - instead he brings his other hand to your bum and smacks you hard, harder than every other time, and you moan and he moans, and then two of his fingers slip into your cunt and you moan again.

God, it really is happening, because if it wasn’t, you’re sure you’d have woken yourself up in excitement by now. He really is two fingers deep in your pussy while his cock is all the way down your throat, and he really is crying out as you whine against his cock. His digits curl, brushing against that sweet spot in your velvety walls that has you clenching around him, and you think he’s the first guy you’ve ever done anything with whose found your G-spot without 10 minutes of needed assistance.

Your tongue swirls around his cock as you take your mouth from him, throwing your head back with a cry, and your first still pumps him up and down - his fingers are thrusting in and out of you so fast that the sound of your arousal is nearly the same volume as your moans lingered with his. You’re going to cum so fucking hard, first time you’ve cum from anything other than your fingers or your toys, and you roll your hips against his fingers, grasp on his cock tightening.

“Gonna cum -” your eyes roll back into your head as your thumb flicks over the head of Harry’s length, feeling the way his body jerks at the sensation. “Fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop -”

“Gonna cum for me?” his voice is a hiss through gritted teeth as his fingers speed up even more, pumping inside of you so fast that your head is fucking spinning. “Do it, then. My dirty - fucking - girl, cum for me.”

It’s all you needed and you can’t even bring yourself to feel embarrassed at how fast you’re cumming because as soon as the pit in your stomach starts to unravel you can feel his cock twitching in your fist. You can’t think of a single thing to say, vocabulary wiped clean, merely throwing your head back with a noise akin to a scream as you cum on his fingers, and as his hips jerk up, you can feel his release coating your hand.

Harry’s fingers still pump slowly inside of you, prolonging your orgasm until it fades away and in turn you try to do the same to him, hand moving up and down his cock until your breathing steadies from labored pants into something more normal. So you pull your hand off of him, pushing yourself to sit on your knees, cum covering your fingers. And, in an instant, Harry’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist, and you let him guide your hand up to your mouth.

You can tell he’s merely testing you to see if you’ll do it - but, truthfully, you’d wanted him to cum in your mouth, anyway, if only to prove something to him, or to yourself. So you stick your tongue out, lap a thick stripe through his cum on your hand, dripping down your wrist, and Harry’s lust ridden eyes watch you, lips parted and breathing picking up again.

Your eyes never leave his as you lick up the last of his release on your hands, swallowing every last bit of it, and when you open your mouth to stick your tongue out - proving to him that you took every single goddamn drop - his hand flies to the back of your neck, pulling your head in, and your lips connect with a clash of teeth.

“Like a fucking angel,” Harry groans, pressing his fist to the car seat next to you, and the feeling of him hovering ever so slightly above you makes the buzzing in your head that much more intense. His other hand works at tucking himself back into his pants, zipping them up, and you figure it’s good to pull your dress down to cover your ass, too. “My fuckin’ perfect girl. Jesus Christ.”

You can feel the car slowing to a stop and you’re entirely too ready to go up to Harry’s bedroom and have your goddamn brains fucked out. You already feel like you’re on cloud 9 with one orgasm down, one so intense and brutal, one that you reckon nothing but him could muster up, and that’s just his fingers - you need to know what his cock’ll do to you. 

His hand falls back down to your waist where it seems to love to reside and he squeezes your hip, leaning in to nibble at your bottom lip again. You grin lazily, then reach up and push his sunglasses back up his nose where they’d slid down the bridge ever so slightly. “Want you t’fuck me,” you breathe, voice raspy in all of its post-orgasm glory. “Never gotten fucked by anyone before but I need you - swear, I’ve never cum so hard in my life.”

Harry chuckles and turns to glance out the window - then he grabs the door handle and pushes it open. When you’ve both clambered out of the car his arm is around you in a heartbeat, and you need the support, legs feeling shaky, and you take just a moment to glance up at the hotel you’re walking into - nicer than anything you’d ever been in in your life but you feel a bit more used to it by now.

“Tell me,” Harry mutters, leaning his lips close to your ear, as the automatic doors slide open for the pair of you to walk into the hotel lobby. “How many guys have made you cum before, hmm?”

“None,” is your response, turning your head to the side so you can witness the shock that overtakes Harry’s face - you can’t see his eyes but you’re sure they’re wide. “Told myself I didn’t want to fuck a guy who didn’t know where the clit is, and - well, none of them did.”

He chuckles as you two make your way through the lobby towards the elevators - it feels wrong for you to even be here, walking by people who see more money every day than you have in your life, in your dress you’d gotten at the thrift store and your heel still slightly wet. But being with Harry, having his arm around you, makes you feel decidedly less awkward, because you’re sure millions of girls would positively die to do what you’re about to do.

But you get to do it, and if that isn’t the best feeling in the world.

He stops in front of the elevator and presses the button to go up, and the doors open almost immediately - such a gentleman, he is, letting you step in first, and when you’re both in you watch the button for the very top floor light up as he pushes it. 

“You’re in for the night of your life,” Harry tells you as the elevator doors slide shut, and you’re entirely expecting him to pin you to the wall but he doesn’t - incredible composure, really, staring straight ahead like he can’t feel the desperation practically dripping from your body. You stare at him, for a moment, at his side profile, jaw set. Like he isn’t as needy as you are, but, as your eyes trail down his body to the bulge already hardening again in his pants, you know that he is.

It seems like an eternity later that the elevator doors slide open again, and you want to race down the hall to his room but you let him lead the way, even if his pace is pathetically slow as he strolls down the hallway. There are only two rooms up this high, on either ends of the hall, and his is to the left of the elevators and it seems so much further than the one to the right.

But you make it there, and Harry’s reaching in his pockets to find his key card - and then he’s swiping it - and then he’s pushing open the door - and as soon as it shuts again, you’re pressed firm against the wall. Your hands fly to the back of his head as his drop to your back, trailing downwards to cup at your ass again (he seems to have a thing for it, but you would never think of complaining.) Your lips press to his as your head falls back against the door, and his hips jerk forward to roll against yours.

You still feel entirely too sensitive and you moan out, pushing your hips forward to meet his as you pull his face closer to yours, using your arms around his neck as leverage to pull him in, but you didn’t need it - you can tell he’s just as desperate as you are, and soon he pulls you off of the door, backing you up to God knows where. You let him lead you until your legs hit something and you fall backwards onto a plush couch, pushing yourself onto your elbows to watch Harry as he drops to his knees before you.

Oh, shit.

Your cheeks heat up as he rests his hands on your knees, spreading your thighs apart. Harry’s hand rises up to his sunglasses, perched, still, on his nose, and he pulls them off, resting them on the coffee table behind him. His eyes meet yours and perhaps he can see the apprehension in your eyes because he leans up, pressing a kiss to your lips. You savor the moment, the sweetness of his tongue entering your mouth, before he lowers himself back down onto his knees. Hands go to the bottom of your dress, rolling it over your hips until it can settle around your waist, exposing your entire bottom half to him, and it feels so much more intimate now that you’re not confined to the backseat of a car.

Harry leans in without giving you a breath to collect yourself, pressing a kiss to your clit through your arousal-soaked lace panties - your hand drops to the couch, squeezing the edge of the cushion between your fingers, and you can already feel your slight embarrassment slipping away as Harry pushes your thigh, forcing it further open.

“Tell me,” he says, deep and hot with how close he is to your cunt, and your hips roll of their own accord at the feeling. “How many guys have done this to you?”

You pause to think, chest rising and falling as he leans in again, licking up your panties, and the sensation makes it a bit difficult to gather yourself enough to respond - eventually, though, you swallow and say, “Not too many. One or two.”

He leans back, pressing a kiss to your thigh. “And they never made you cum.”

“N - no.”

“Well, I will,” is his response, and, as cocky as it may seem, you know he’s right - could probably make you cum through your panties, but his fingers hook in the top of them as soon as the thought pops in your mind. You lift your hips up so he can drag them down your legs, and when they’ve puddled by your feet he helps you take them off. You watch as he crumbles the lacey material in his hands and then stuffs it into the pockets of his fancy pants - for later, he murmurs against your thigh. And then he goes in - hands on your thighs forcing them apart so hard it nearly burns but you find you like the stretch, and his lips wrap around your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks on the small nub.

Your head drops back against the couch and you bury your hand in his hair, a loud moan escaping your throat. He wasn’t teasing you and you were beyond grateful - tongue laps up every drop of wetness that gushes in your cunt, kitten licks against your clit, and you can tell he has more experience than you could have imagined. Harry has it mastered, exactly where to place his hands (one on your thigh, the other creeping its way beneath the material of your dress towards your tits) and how to flick his tongue just right to have your hips bucking up against his mouth. And if you thought you’d cum hard in the car you know you’re in for a fucking treat because there’s already pressure building in your stomach and it won’t be long until it fucking erupts.

When you squeeze your eyes shut he stops - pulls away, his mouth and his hands, like he’d never been there in the first place. You open your eyes, chest heaving as you stare down at him. His pupils are lust blown and wide as he stares at you, eyebrows raised, as if you’re meant to know something he never told you - “Eyes open,” he tuts, tone condescending and smug, and you hate how much you love it. “Keep them open. Gonna watch me make you fall apart, alright?” You nod slowly. “Tell me.”

Your voice is caught in your throat as Harry’s lips form a small o, breathing a puff of air onto your beyond sensitive clit, and your fingers in his curls tighten to what has to hurt - but he moans, ever so slightly, as you finally breathe, “Yes. Okay.”

“S’what I thought,” is his response, and then he leans back in, licking up your soaked folds as though no time had passed. Both of his palms press against your thighs, pinching your soft skin, fingers dangerously close to the area he’s working so well. God, his fingers, you swear you’ve never felt anything better than them - you want them again, so bad, hitting your sweet spot so good.

You can’t begin to get the words out to tell him that, though, so you merely reach down, shaky fingers wrapping around his wrist and pushing it closer to your cunt - he pauses, tongue mid-swirl around your clit, and looks up at you with a glint of pure cockiness in his eyes. 

“What do you want?” he doesn’t remove his mouth from around your clit as he speaks and the vibrations roll through your body, sending a cry through your throat, and you push his hand further towards your cunt. You know it won’t be enough - haven’t known Harry for quite long at all, but you reckon you know that much about him. “Use your words,” and Harry sounds so fucking commanding that it could make you cum right then and there.

“F - fingers,” you just about sob out, rolling your hips up into his mouth so your clit brushes against his tongue. “Please, Harry - need your fingers, please -”

“Fingers, hmm?” His digits dance across your thighs, straying further away from where you need him, and your eyes just about roll back into your head as he pulls his mouth from your clit and blows on it again. “Where do you want my fingers?”

But you’re too far gone to speak - as he leans in to brush his tongue against your sensitive clit once more, you can feel the pit in your tummy starting to come undone. You drop your head back as Harry licks a thick stripe up to your sensitive nub, and he stops again, pressing his cheek against your inner thigh. “Does my dirty girl want my fingers in her pussy, hmm? S’that where you want my fingers?”

You moan out in affirmation.

Harry pulls his head from your thigh and you push yourself so you’re sitting up more, getting a clear view of everything he’s doing as he spits on your pussy, the saliva dripping down onto your clit, and you fucking cry out. His fingers come up to collect the spittle, rubbing it along your clit before dragging it down your folds so he can push them into your pussy - curling up immediately, knowing exactly the spot that makes you squirm. His other hand comes up and lands a firm smack against your clit, one that has your eyes rolling back into your head.

It only takes a few quick pumps of his curled fingers, in and out of your fluttering cunt, that has you cumming so hard you swear you see stars. Every single sob that breaks free from your throat is so loud that you swear the neighbors in the room at the other end of the hall must be able to hear you - should send them a flower arrangement tomorrow morning, because it’s just his mouth and fingers that has you screaming bloody murder.

“Oh my god -” your hips jerk against his mouth, your hands in his hair dropping back down to the cushions. “Fuck.”

Coming down from your second high of the evening is entirely different from your first - you can’t imagine how you’ll possibly be able to pull anymore from you but, as Harry stands up, your slick covering his mouth and chin, you know you have to.

The whole point is to fuck him. To finally know what everyone’s talking about - to see what the fuss is all about. 

Harry leans down, tongue forcing its way down your throat the second your lips part for him, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. Your arousal mixed with the beer he’d had earlier, all traces of the mint washed away, and it tastes so divine. Even more divine as his hands drop to the zipper of his pants, sliding it down, and you slide your fingers in the waistband, helping him tug them down his thighs. He kicks them off as soon as they’re near his feet and then he pulls away, palm pressing against the bulge in his briefs. 

“How do you want it?” he asks, words dripping with lust and desperation and you know the exact way he’s feeling and more. You watch him intently as he grips the bottom of his sweater and tugs it over his head - it drops to the rug atop the ground and you let your eyes soak in the sight of him, almost fully nude, briefly ignoring the question.

You hadn’t necessarily expected him to ask. He seems more dominant than that, needing to take control, so you swallow, chest heaving as you try to think. “I don’t - I don’t know.”

He seems to have been expecting that answer, because his hands fall to your waist, pushing you down so you’re lying on the couch. It’s spacious, just enough room for you to adjust yourself comfortably, and Harry lowers himself down on top of you the second you’ve shifted enough.

“How’s this?”

And his caring demeanor is shocking but fitting, because as much as you merely want to get your virginity out of the way, it does feel like a sort of important moment. You want it to be comfortable, and lying on the plushiest couch you’ve ever been on with Harry hovering above you, his arm inches above your head, is about as comfortable as you’re going to get.

You loop your arms around his neck and you can feel his clothed cock, pressed to your cunt. He’s so fucking hard and you’re amazed at the amount of composure he has. “Perfect,” you mumble, leaning up to attach your lips once more (you swear, you can’t get enough of him.)

Harry tugs down his boxers, just enough to free his cock from the flannel confines, and you can feel his tip, running along your folds - he slaps it on your clit and you groan. You drop your head back against the arm of the couch as he sinks his tip into your cunt. Slowly, steadily, he pushes himself the rest of the way in, stuffing you so deliciously full of him that it nearly overtakes the pain.

Nearly.

You’ve used dildos before and you’re thankful for it, now, because you reckon without any sort of experience you’d feel absolutely split in half. Even now, there’s a dull burn sparking between your thighs, and you drop your head back, eyes squeezing shut as you try to adjust to the feeling. No, it didn’t necessarily hurt but it was different and that in itself was enough for you to need a moment to adjust. The way his cock twitched inside of you every so often encouraged you and subsequently turned you on beyond belief, and you don’t need too much time to adjust, after all.

Harry’s breathing is heavy and you can feel it against your face, barely an inch above yours. Poor guy, must be torture, holding out, because you can practically sense how needy he is. You lift your head up to press your lips to his, soft like the brush of a butterfly’s wing, before pulling back. “Move - fuck, please, move, Harry.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, pulling his hips back before thrusting them back in. That is certainly different, verging on the border of pain, but with a few more slow pumps, in and out of your dripping cunt, the pleasure is beginning to take it over.

It takes a moment to find a rhythm that’s enough for both of you. There’s still a slight discomfort but not enough to make you want to wait any longer. You’re finally having sex and you want it to keep going, to do it forever and ever with the absolute God hovering above you.

“So goddamn tight,” Harry grunts as he rocks his hips into yours. “Squeezing me so good. Never fucked anyone so tight in my life, I swear.”

His compliments, whether they were in the heat of the moment or genuine, makes you moan out - makes this entire thing feel so much better.

And fuck, it truly does feel good, especially when he angles his hips just so, every thrust sweeping against that sweet spot deep inside of you that he’s so adept at finding. For the first minute or so you’re fine with the leisurely pace he’s doing but you can tell it’s killing him and it’s starting to kill you, too. You’ve never been too patient, even if you’d waited 22 years for this exact moment.

You’re not a virgin. It feels good, the invisible badge of honor and the cock, going entirely too slow for your liking, deep in your pussy.

���Faster - need you to go faster,” you gasp as Harry’s thumb drops to your clit, rubbing slow circles on the sensitive nub, and they’re immediately a sharp contrast to the way he pulls his hips out and slams them back in. This is what he wanted, what he needed, and it’s what you need, too. No slow pumps. You need him fucking fast and hard and God it feels good, the way he presses down on your clit, sending pleasure coursing through your veins. “Feel so good inside me. God, keep doing that.”

Harry braces a hand on top of the couch, lifting his body slightly off of yours to piston his cock in and out of your cunt, taking him greedily and fully. He’d been with plenty of girls before - more than he could count - but there was something different, being the first guy to fill you up, to fuck you so hard you saw stars. And it was bloody good, watching you beneath him, your mouth falling open with a broken moan, pushing your pelvis up towards his, trying to help him along.

“Such a dirty girl,” Harry rasps, reaching down to grab the top of your dress - should’ve taken it off of you, really - and he pulls it down so aggressively you’re sure the fabric will rip. Your tits spill out of the top, covered only by your bra, and his fingers hook in the cups, pulling them away from your breasts, and in an instant his head is lowered to flick his tongue against your nipple. “Feels so good, hmm? Getting fucked for the very first time? Poor baby - never had a dick before. Tell me how - tell me how it feels.”

Your head is fucking spinning, is how it feels, and you’re not sure you’re going to be able to talk for days to come. You sob out your response, barely audible, but Harry hears it as if you’d spoken loud and clear - “So good, fuck, gonna cum.”

Two of his fingers pluck at your clit like the strings of a guitar, as if you’re merely something to be played with, but it’s enough to send you over the edge again. Your body convulses beneath him, eyes squeezing shut. Your cunt fluttering around him could make him cum but you can tell he wants to hold out - wants to see if you have one more in you, and you’re not sure if you do.

It’s as though Harry can sense the second you’ve milked your orgasm for all you can, because he pulls out of you the second you’re done. Before you can cry out, his hands grab your hips and flip you over with such ease it’s nearly embarrassing. You hardly have the muscle strength to hold yourself up, merely dropping your face into the cushion as his hands position himself at your cunt, pushing in without giving you a second to adjust, and it’s back to the hard, steady pace you’d reached before.

This position is a fucking change and one you love, a new angle letting him reach spots inside of you that you hadn’t even known existed. Your moans are muffled where your mouth is pressed to the cushion but Harry’s are loud and clear, piercing the air near violently as he cries out. You can’t see him but you try with all your might to picture exactly what he’s doing - picturing how his mouth is open and his eyes are shut and he’s lifting his hand to land it back down on your -

As though he can read your thoughts his hand goes up and smacks down on your ass, the noise cracking through the air, and you sob out at the feeling. You love that, you really do, and you’d never have expected yourself to but as he sends another slap to your skin you decide it’s one of your favorite things you’ve done this whole fucking evening.

“Gonna cum,” Harry grunts, hand gripping your thigh to rock your body in time with his. You wiggle your ass, pushing it against him, and for that, you earn another smack. “Where d’you want me to cum? Want it on your back, hmm? Or maybe flip you over again and cum on your pretty tits.”

You can’t verbalize anything, nothing except for broken cries and his name falling off your lips like a mantra, and he knows it.

“Or -” and his voice drops nearly a whole fucking octave, deeper than you’d even thought it could go, and you’re so close to your fourth that your ears are starting to ring - “does my dirty girl want me to cum in her pussy? Fill you up with my cum, fuck you so good until you’re stuffed with it.”

It’s that - his words, fucking filthy and rising above every other noise the two of you make - that ends you. Sends you hurtling into your fourth, now, the couch practically absorbing your moan (or more like a scream) and any ability you’d had to hold yourself up on shaky legs dissipates as you collapse against the couch but Harry’s there, holding you up, forcing your hips back into his you were made for it.

You don’t need to say anything - he knows what you want, can read you like a book by now, and you’ve only known him for tonight. So as his cock gives its final twitch inside your cunt, worn out from cumming four times in such a short amount of time, he makes no move to pull out. Just grips your hips and holds them close to his, and the feeling of hot ribbons of cum shooting into your cunt, filling you up exactly the way you’d wanted, is a sensation you don’t think you’ll ever forget.

When he’s done, pulling out slowly, you collapse fully onto the couch with nothing to hold you up - you’re fucking exhausted but you’ve never felt better in your life. A haze seems to be settling over your mind and body, preventing you from paying any attention to anything that’s not Harry as he stands up above you. And then you feel him, wrapping his arms around you, picking you up like a goddamn baby and you like it a lot.

You’re entirely too close to falling asleep in his arms before he lies you down on a surface softer than the couch - has to be the bed, the rich hotel beds, and as your head lands on the pillow you know you’re correct. God, feels like a pillow, and you’d like to spend the rest of your life right here.

Harry’s like a God in human form, truly, getting a warm washcloth from the restroom to wipe at the cum dripping down your thighs. You two speak in soft, hushed voices, as though making up for the absolutely inhuman noises you’d made before, as he pulls your dress over your head and deposits it on the ground. It is ripped, you can see, but you find you don’t really care. Not like you didn’t get it for less than $10 - and it’s just a reminder of every amazing thing that happened tonight, not that you’d ever need one. You know you’ll remember this night forever.

Finally he lies down beside you, shifting so he’s spooning you, arms firm around your waist and your head to his shoulder. This feels perfect, exactly what you needed to end off your first time perfectly.

“M’not a virgin anymore,” you murmur, adjusting yourself to press your body closer to his. “Feels good. Feel like I’m finally living.”

Harry chuckles at that, pressing a kiss to the side of your face. “Hope your first time was as good as it could be.”

You exhale softly. “It was perfect,” you tell him, voice soft and dripping with emotions you can’t possibly decipher. And it’s the absolute truth - even if your first time wasn’t with a boyfriend you were in love with, like your friends, you don’t think you’d ever have it any other way. “Maybe we could do it again, some time.”

Probably a mistake to ask, but there’s nothing to lose, really. Maybe a piece of your dignity if he says no, but it doesn’t hurt to ask. You’d do this a thousand times over again with him without hesitating.

He takes a beat to respond and you know you fucked up, already squeezing your eyes shut in regret, but then he rasps, “Definitely gotta do it again. Tomorrow night … and the night after that … and the night after that …” and you know you’re in for it.

[chatxkilluaxnoir]

I am not gong to address this whole thing, just going to talk about some things; in no particular order:

The rest, the real meat of this, is going to be under a "Read More" Cut. This get a bit long and stuff:

So first:

"And… Can I just add that Splinter’s not just up and abandoning him?

When Leo doesn’t know what to do next after his father is gone- Splinter is there. When it looks like he’s been defeated by the Shredder- Splinter is there. When they face their first real threat since his passing, and Leo is in the dojo struggling with what to do- Splinter is there.

“Leonardo, I know you feel the weight of leading your family, but remember, I am always with you.”

and

"I mean- come on! Even in the afterlife, he’s looking over him!

He knows the burden on his son’s shoulders, and he’s come to help and warn to relieve it, if only a little.

Should he also have appeared to his others sons? ABSOLUTELY!

Could he…?

Well…

Don’t get me wrong- They’d have every right to be upset if they find out that Splinter appeared to Leo and not to them. But I’m sure there was a good reason- Leo mentions “meditating for weeks” after his father’s death at one point, so his spiritual strength, place in front of the altar, and need to speak to his father could have urged down “Mr. Higher Spiritual Plane”.

That’s why Donnie couldn’t see him when he walked in. This wasn’t a ghost doing his own thing, this was a spirit summoned down by Leo. When Donnie startled him, Leo lost concentration, and Splinter disappeared.

But, it’s still going to hurt, knowing he appeared to Leo and not them…"

I don't see this Splinter's actual ghost, it honestly seems more like just actual psychosis; here is one post that talks about it:

Also, I am pretty sure (don't quote me on this, I don't know how accurate it is), mentioned that they were going to explore this even further with Leo (you know, maybe by way of him actually getting some help), but then Nick kinda f#cked around with the show some, so they couldn't.

So yeah, I personally see this as psychosis (esp. since he is not eve mediating in some of the scenes Splinter shows up in for, and because, like the person I am linking from said, the way Splinter shows up, is pretty different from how ghosts and/or even Splinter in the past, I think, has showed up. And other reasons too).

I don't really see this is as Leo seeing Splinter's actual ghost anymore; at least I don't really have this POV as much as I do have other(s) now, but you or others personally do, that is fine.

Anyways, because of that, I find the whole argument some people have that Splinter should have shown up for the others too stupid, because it honestly to me just seems more Leo having psychosis honestly, and not actually seeing his father. (like, the dude was also literally talking to a hologram of Splinter all the time too, they dude in so many ways, wasn't in the best mental state). And even if he was (which I don't believe he was tbh), it was probably because he was mediating all the time, and so was more spiritually in-tune, which probably made it so Splinter could actually speak to Leo in the 1st place. So yeah, I find the whole argument of, "But he should have talked to his other sons too." that some people make (not you OP), to be kind of a stupid (imo) argument to make.

Another thing, I still don't think it was a super good thing, and I know there were reasons or circumstances of their situation or/& Splinter's own reasons, but still, saying that Leo, a 17-18 year old boy, should be a father/like a father to his brothers, is a bit, much. Like, he already has enough as leader, basically already a parent in a way (getting even further confirmation of being a parent, I could see helping Leo in some ways; like you said, giving him more of a reason to live and stuff basically, but also causing him even more stress honestly), he doesn't need this too. Like, I know it is not Splinter's fault he died, it was The Shredder's, but he, like his brothers, still needs guidance and a parent too. He is a mature in a lot of ways/has matured, but he is a still a child/so young, with a mental state that worsens in a lot of ways as the series goes on. This is just my opinion though. I get ur POV on this scene, and I will always love 2012 Splinter; he is one of my favorite Splinters, but I can't say that I am still super happy about the father/figure thing that was said to Leo (though, for writing reasons, I also find it super interesting).

I am however happy that Splinter was trying (though, I have some thoughts about that advice he gave, how Leo took it, and/or etc., that might slightly differ in some areas to yours, but I won't get too much into that, because it is not that important for now. I probably won't at least. For now) to rectify one of his earlier advices to Leo; that he tried to help his son. I love seeing character development and great father-son stuff.

This scene is still such a heartbreaking scene, and seeing how Leo and Splinter interact and react in this hurts me, and while I agree, that it was probably for the best, Splinter didn't tell the others about his thoughts on maybe dying, it still hurts me so much, that Leo might have started to suspect something on his own there. Well, at least Splinter had a nice goodbye talk basically with Leo and got to hang out with his sons and etc., before he, you know, died. I will forever miss you, 2012 Splinter.

Also, for the people in the replies posts saying he could have been a better father to all them, and not just Leo. First of all, Splinter loved all children equally, Leo is not really the "favorite", like so many seem to think he is/paint him as. Second of all, having high expectations placed on you (which Leo does have), being the "supposed" favorite (if he was, and I don't really think he was), is not actually a good thing, for either the "favorite". They have so many expectations placed on them to be good and perfect; just so much stress is placed on them, while the others may resent the "favorite" for something that isn't their fault in the slightest. Again, I don't actually think Leo was the "favorite", as some people think, but some people really don't understand how "being the favoritism" isn't always really a good thing (probably a lot of the time actually), and how it actually works most of the time. Imo. Third of all, Splinter tried his best with his children, considering his very tough circumstances, his BG and history, and his own knowledge on the matter.

Was he a prefect father? No, but no one really is, are they? But he tried his best, and he loved all of his kids very much. Equally.

Thank you.

This is all I am going to say for now.

That being mostly a mixture of disagreeing with some points, agreeing with others, and defending 2012 Splinter basically.

I am done (probably) now.

(Might try to better format this later, but for now, I am sticking with this).

So here’s what went down…

Ah, yes.

The infamous “Splinter passes on the mantle of Sensei” scene.

Possibly the most misinterpreted scene in the history of 2012turtle scenes. (Perhaps I shall get to the others someday.)

I’ve always assumed that the verdict for this scene was the same for all, and I never knew people hated, or even disliked, Splinter for his choices in this until recently. And it has been eating away at me, because I don’t think ya’ll understand what’s going on here.

Maybe you do, but…

Can I point out exactly what I saw happen here?

Yeah?

Thanks. 🤎

1: Splinter is not sleeping and is ‘distant’, making Leo worried enough to inquire about his health. He’s clearly spending every second agonizing over what’s coming, and meditation is probably his only solace from the burden of his fears. (I do the same thing when I’m anxious. Distract and distance, it helps me feel a sense of- control, I guess.) 2: Splinter does not address Leo’s question. He’s already tried to tell Leo what was going on before this, and now he wants to focus on what he feels is important. His family. He immediately changes the subject (limping in a way that has me suddenly concerned because GUYS HE HURT AND OLD AND GOING TO FIGHT FOR HIS LIFE PLEASE NO-) and asks Leo why he made him leader. 3: Leo awkwardly repeats what he said, “Because I asked to be… You said it wasn’t because of my skills…” (THAT’S ONE INTENSE OF A WEIGHT TO CARRY IF YOU REALLY THINK ABOUT IT, THE HECK-) and Splinter corrects, “I said that only to temper your ego at the time. I knew even when you were a small boy, that you would one day grow up to be the leader of this team.” -Can I just add that he’s not saying this literally. He’s the cryptic, wise, know-it-all sensei. He’s not saying, “I planned to make you soldiers and for you to lead the fight”. He’s saying, “You have always been the one to teach, protect, and lead your brothers, and there was absolutely no one else as perfect for the job.”

Seriously. Lookit baby Leo guarding them while daddy’s away. 💙💙

4: And then he throws everyone watching through a loop: “And when I pass on, to be like a father as well.” And just like us, Leo’s got a whole lot of “EXCUSE ME, WHAT?!” going down.

5: But Splinter’s going stay his cryptic self by clearing no air. (Okay, but let’s think about WHY for a moment. We know our leader in blue by now. If Leo knew exactly what he knew, martyr instincts would kick in hard core, and he would do everything it takes to make sure their father survives. And Master Splinter isn’t going to sit here and let Leo go on a suicide quest. From his POV- He’s old. He’s lived his life. He can try to accept his own death. He will not accept Leo’s.)

6: Splinter imparts this saying that I love with everything in me. “Leonardo. If I can only impart one piece of wisdom that will remain with you forever…” (Ergo, Dude, this is Important. Pay attention to what Imma about to say) “Remember. Giving guidance to your brothers and friends does not come from here…”

“It comes from here…”

THIS IS DEEP, YO. IT SAYS SO MUCH AND IT’S SO SIMPLE-

And people are MAD AT HIM FOR THIS?!

Sorry, sorry- emotions. I’m breathing. I’m breeaaathing… Okay. Yes, I get the gist of the arguments. ‘Splinter made Leo head of the household and that was a terrible thing for him to do. Leo’s too young for that responsibility, he already has the weight of being leader on his shoulders, and that’s a burden his mourning heart can’t carry. It’s cruel for him to do such a thing.’

Or-

And-

@tmntforeverinmyheart and @stardustartist, everyone’s opinion is built off of observations, beliefs, and their own POV on events, and every opinion matters. Thank you for yours. 💚

Now onto mine-

I don’t know what this quote from Splinter means to you guys, but to me, it’s his way of trying to fix things!

I think he finally realized that he done messed up. He knows that he put Leo in a position of ‘I am leader, and mission always comes first’. He’s had plenty of time to see the damage he’s done, and he’s worried of what will come off his family if he doesn’t fix it.

Leo is too far into his head. He isn’t thinking with his heart- “what will happen to my family with me gone?”. He’s thinking with his head, “lives are at stake and I’m the leader- self sacrifice it is.”

Every mission, every step, every choice is a plan, and his life is simply a factor in it. A pawn to be thrown away to complete the important task. It doesn’t hold meaning because of what Splinter told him all the way back in season one, and his father is finally realizing it. (ABOUT FREAKING TIME-)

He’s not telling him “don’t think”.

He’s saying, “Think another way.”

I feel you, @sr200916. A friend of mine said this exact same thing, and I wholeheartedly agree. And here’s some depth into why.

Kids without parents attach themselves to role models. Mother figures, father figures- kids need to be guided, and led, and hugged, and need that one person who can say “it’s okay” and magically the world is a little less dark.

And they’re just. KIDS. They left the sewers three/four years ago! Everything is still so wide and new and confusing and there’s still so much they haven’t learned or experienced- they’re kids.

And yes. Leo is a kid too. But who else are they supposed to turn to?

Karai?

She’s not a parents. She’s gone from enemy, to somewhat friend, to sister-in-college-who-drops-by-sometimes. She’s living her own life. They aren’t going to see her as anything more than their equal. Much less look upon her as a guardian.

April and Casey?

Best friends/honorary siblings. They aren’t going to fit that role.

Mutanimals? Leatherhead? Bishop?

Friends. Equals. People that they trust. But not anyone that they’re immediately going to lean on as a guardian. They need someone who they already look up to and trust to lead and guide them. They need someone who already has their well-being as a number one priority. They need someone who they can feel comfortable going to talk to when he can’t be there to lend advice.

-And I know what some of you are still thinking. But what about Leo?! He’s just a kid too!

And, hey, I’m not arguing. He absolutely is, and in a perfect, fair world, he would continue to have an adult to teach and guide him- but their world is neither perfect nor fair.

All his life, he’s had two solid goals: Make sensei proud. Protect my brothers.

He’s seen as the most mature brother for a reason. He’s had to grow up in a world where finishing school and getting/keeping a job isn’t his main concern. For about three years, he’s spent every night making sure that his brothers stay alive. In fact, he starts doing it almost unconsciously- taking responsibility of his brothers and their missions without filling Splinter in, as shown in Annihilation: Earth! Part 1, when he’s laying out the plans, and Splinter straight up asks, “What is going on?” and Leo brushes him off, essentially just telling him that there’s trouble, but they have it covered.

Splinter is speechless for a moment, but then consents, telling Leo that he’ll be near the cheese phone if they need him.

This is a huge change if you really think about it, and done very subtley. They show us how their relationship has changed- Splinter no longer has the control to give the okay. Leo no longer feels like he needs Splinter guidance or permission. He’s grown up, and he’s leading with a firm hand, just as he was born to do.

And Leo also has experience raising his brothers- who do you think was acting sensei while they were in space?

Fugtoid was Donnie’s mentor, sure, but it was Leo who the brothers turned to when things got out of hand. It was Leo who had to talk sense into them, who always has the last word, who seemed on edge 24/7 as the season progressed, seeing the dangers space held and sending away his team when the evil space station was sent to go boom.

Whether fans like it or not, a leader, a sensei, is simply who Leo is.

There’s a reason he always gets heated and offended when he thinks his place is being challenged-

Leo thrives under that sense of control, and his brother thrive knowing that the control lies in someone else’s hands.

Now, with their father gone, it’ll lie in the hands of the brother that they trust with it most (whether Raph admits it or not) because he’s proven himself time and time again to be able to handle it.

Splinter isn’t stupid. He knows his boys. He knows exactly who Leo’s younger brothers are going to turn to after he’s gone for good this time, and he needs Leo to realize this too. Perhaps he hopes the burden will be easier to bear if it’s given slowly, instead of chucked out of nowhere.

Splinter was not purposefully ‘parentifying’ Leo. There’s a reason he waited so long. Maybe he was never going to say anything at all. Maybe he was struggling with the choice, and when Leo walked in to ask if he was okay, he made a last-minute decision.

Splinter knew it was going to happen. Leo was going to become head of the household, whether or not he said anything about it. It’s how their family dynamic always shapes out- there’s a reason the fans call Leo a mother hen!

It was always going to happen. So instead of standing by and letting fate play out, Splinter decided to interviene.

He wasn’t putting the burden on Leo’s shoulder. He was reassuring his son that he could handle it. He was giving advice on how to take care of his brothers. He was trying to help, not to hurt.

Obviously Leo is going to end up hurting. Obviously, it’s going to be hard. Obviously, it’s going to be a lot to adapt too. For Splinter’s sake- their father is going to die!

But his brothers will be there for him. He may be acting sensei, but we’re shown that they have his back. (Raph’s talk with Mikey on the rooftop is a very prominent piece of proof.)

Splinter knows that no one else can do the job better, and by voicing that he’s sensei, no one else should be able to take Leo’s family away from him. At the end of the day, as the eldest, he will be the one who bears the Hamato legacy (remember, Karai is busy shaping the Foot legacy anew), but unlike Yoshi, Leo will not be alone. He’ll have family and friends to back him up when things get difficult.

It’s a heavy title, but one that Leo is ready to carry.

Except… For one pretty major flaw. A flaw Splinter encouraged, and a flaw that he knows cannot stay.

The martyr complex.

That, is what I believe the “use your heart and not your head” phrase is meant to squash. And I believe with everything in me that it does. Leo’s life is no longer just a chess game. If this pawn doesn’t come home from a mission, his team suffers. His brothers suffer.

He is no pawn, and he can’t afford to see himself as one. He cannot afford to treat his life like it’s expendable. There’s more at stake then just the mission, and deep down in his heart, he knows that. He’s no longer just a leader. He is a father, and he has a family to live for.

And… Can I just add that Splinter’s not just up and abandoning him?

When Leo doesn’t know what to do next after his father is gone- Splinter is there. When it looks like he’s been defeated by the Shredder- Splinter is there. When they face their first real threat since his passing, and Leo is in the dojo struggling with what to do- Splinter is there.

“Leonardo, I know you feel the weight of leading your family, but remember, I am always with you.”

I mean- come on! Even in the afterlife, he’s looking over him!

He knows the burden on his son’s shoulders, and he’s come to help and warn to relieve it, if only a little.

Should he also have appeared to his others sons? ABSOLUTELY!

Could he…?

Well…

Don’t get me wrong- They’d have every right to be upset if they find out that Splinter appeared to Leo and not to them. But I’m sure there was a good reason- Leo mentions “meditating for weeks” after his father’s death at one point, so his spiritual strength, place in front of the altar, and need to speak to his father could have urged down “Mr. Higher Spiritual Plane”.

That’s why Donnie couldn’t see him when he walked in. This wasn’t a ghost doing his own thing, this was a spirit summoned down by Leo. When Donnie startled him, Leo lost concentration, and Splinter disappeared.

But, it’s still going to hurt, knowing he appeared to Leo and not them…

And should he have told his other sons that he was going to die?

….No. Just, no.

For one: He only hinted at the fact with Leo because he felt it was necessary to pass on certain information, to help him prepare for what’s coming. He didn’t give him specifics, no matter how much he begged.

If he told any of the brothers- Donnie would not rest until he pressed him for every ounce of information, Mikey would not have been able to handle the thought of something happening to Splinter, and Raph probably would have died that night on the rooftop trying to stop the prediction from becoming reality.

All of them would have wanted to stay with him after the warehouse fire, and I believe Splinter separated them for a reason.

As the youngest brothers, Donnie and Mikey needed to be shielded from memories that their analytical and photographic minds would not have been able to handle. It would have broken them to see their father die.

Leonardo would spent the rest of his days hating himself for being there and not preventing it. He’d drown in the guilt and fear- because if he couldn’t doing anything, how can he be certain that he’ll be able to keep his brothers safe? How can he be trusted with their lives when he couldn’t even save their father?

This way- Leo knows he’s been sent away, and he knows Splinter’s the reason that he couldn’t protect him. The blame isn’t as strong because he wasn’t there, and that was Splinter’s fault. It’s easier to manage when there’s another to pass on the blame.

Splinter didn’t let him protect him, and by doing so, protected Leo.

Now, Splinter’s sons would have put up a fuss or gotten suspicious if one of them didn’t go with him, so he made an educated choice.

Raphael is the strongest of the brothers. Out of all of them, he’s the most likely to mentally and physically survive the battle. He doesn’t let guilt swallow him like Leo does- he turns it into anger, and uses that anger to defend his family better next time. Out of all of them, Splinter hoped that Raph would be able to handle the memories, and the show basically tells us that he does- his maturity to accepting Leo as sensei was both shocking and relieving.

Now, I’m not saying every choice made here was inherently a good one. There’s a lot of choices made in Splinter’s life that are questionable- but every choice he makes is only in his sons’s best interest. At one point, Splinter was going to run the last of his clan. He was raised to prepare for war. His sensei could have groomed him with a leader mentality, and the notion to never put his life over the sake of his clan’s, since he was supposed to lead them one day.

He’s a single dad living in the sewers who doesn’t understand the internet and fears human contact- the only way he knows to raise his children are based off experiences with his own family, and his culture. Making Leo a martyr was a mistake, and he sees that now.

So to summarize:

No one was being made a parent. Leo is a verified mother hen, and he will lead. Period. It was always going to happen, and Splinter was trying to help lead the way. He probably would have given a lot more advice had his other children not interrupted.

Yes, he made a huge mistake years ago, but now he’s trying to fix that with a simply offering of advice. Follow your heart, not your mind, because at the end of the day, the heart will always lead you and your brothers home.

No, the entire family should not have known. They would have done everything in their power to stop what could not be prevented, and that could have gotten them killed. Splinter would never allow that. Their time was not up. They would not needlessly suffer because of him. Not his boys.

Just a side note: Taking care of his brothers might not be the worst thing for our mourning boy. Not only does it give him something to focus on, but, as an older sibling, I know it sometimes brings me comfort to comfort a young sibling. Maybe it’s some buried instinct in my being to keep them happy and healthy taking over, maybe it’s because I have a tiny bit of control in the moment, or maybe it’s a feeling of accomplishment that helps battle against the aching hurt eating away at me- but it helps. It really does.

It’s not like their infants, or little kids. His brother’s can fend for themselves, and they understand their place in the world much better than they did years ago. They can protect each other.

In reality, the only thing that will change is the hovering knowledge that someone is missing.

Holy chalupa, I just wrote an essay…

Back to the episode!

The rest of this isn’t too deep. So have some reactions:

“I don’t understand… You’re fine, father-”

🎶I can see what’s happenin’ here🎶

HE CALLED HIM DADDY IN A DOJO SETTING AFTER ASSURING HIM THAT HE WAS WELL!

POOR BABY BLUE KNOWS BUT IS STUCK IN DENIAL- 😭❤️‍🩹

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Leo, he is trying to tell you! And he could have! If not for literally MILLISECONDS after he asks, Mikey interrupting. Splinter might have clarified! He might have said more! Hinted how he knows! Said he was so proud! Given advice! Cleared the air! THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS-

Ah, these poor naive boys and their bad timing….

Okay, but like, how am I supposed to be annoyed at these faces. AND WHY IS RAPH OH-SO JOYOUSLY COPYING MIKEY- AND DONNIE WHAT IS THAT DEAD-EYED STARE- 🤣🤣🤣

YA’LL ARE MESSING UP MY EMOTIONS IN THIS FREAKING SCENE, YO

I’M TRYING TO BE SERIOUS IN THE MOMENT

BUT EVERY TIME THEY POP UP- 🤣

Okay, but is Splinter immediately taking the invitation to spend time with his sons because he knows that he doesn’t have much longer not the most wholesome thing ever?

He can’t continue this talk with the brothers present, and they’re clearly excited to go, so why not attend and make a few more bright memories before he’s gone?

Also, I deem it illegal for rock music to be this ominous-

I blame Leo for looking despondently after them and triggering bad things are about to happen emotions. Poor blue boi.

Anyway

Splinter is not a bad father. He is imperfect, but every choice he makes is for his sons’ good. They are his world. Their lives will come before his every time, even if that means giving heartbreaking advice before he has to be taken from them. He only wants what’s best for his family.

They are his sons. He is their papa.

And that’s all there is too it. 💚❤️💜💙🧡💚

I freaking love this show…

Thanks for reading!! I did my best to double-check everything that I wasn’t sure about, so that I could be as accurate as possible! Even if I didn’t change stubborn minds, I hope I gave you guys some things to think about!

Every opinion matters! Thanks for checking out mine!