#our allies can be douchebags

[halfateabag]

so i was a Sandman (I cannot separate the artist from art when it comes to sa, sorry) fan, and let me tell you

I wasn't going to say anything because I'm not all that active in the fandom or familiar with most of his work, but a lot of people are doubting the women's claims because they'd gone to a right-wing news source apparently?

I've read many posts arguing whether the new site (or podcast??? Kinda confused) is right-wing or not, but the thing is, these two women, who are victims of a dude who has a cult following in a lot of leftist spaces, obviously went to a news source that believed them. And honestly, they were right to, because the amount of posts I've seen defending the rapist is frankly disgusting.

Believe all women, not just ones coming from your trusted leftie news sources. Who on earth would set themselves up against a beloved rich figure who is regarded as a good person unless they are confident that they're telling the truth, huh? And I'm saying this as a socialist, queer person.

If you're yapping out there saying 'these women could be lying for political gain' or 'this is a shmear campaign', just listen to yourselves.

The man guilted them by basically threatening suicide and then called the allegations 'false memories!' That's obvious manipulative behavior. I'd go as far as to say textbook even. Because guess what, I've known of actual assaulters who use that excuse.

Because if you can believe that two women could be lying about the same man, then you better have the capacity to think that maybe, just maybe, the man could be lying about his own actions too, especially when they are as heinous as they say.

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 1 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: part one is here, enjoy! <3

W/C: 3.398

Introduction

"Can you try smiling this time?"

I mumble, holding myself back from rolling my eyes in annoyance. I click my tongue, standing behind Luis, my close friend and cameraman.

"The photo needs to be edited later, for sure. Looks a little off compared to the others." I tell Luis, sending an insult to the man in front of the camera, in English for him to hear.

Even so, Luis and I usually spoke English to each other. It being a language we were both very well versed in.

Jude doesn't even look like he wants to be here, at all. He wouldn't be the only one, that was for sure. 

"That's good enough, Bellingham. You can go." I say, folding my arms up to my chest.

"Finally." He mutters, rolling his eyes, the Brummie accent, which was quite new to me, rolling off his tongue.

He raises his hands, smoothing down his shirt, before nodding at Luis with a smile and leaving, not acknowledging me per usual.

"Douchebag." I mumble, solely for myself to hear, but I notice Luis glancing at me.

"What?" I ask, rolling the papers in my hands into a tube out of boredom. The letters curving with the bend of the paper.

"You two are becoming more insufferable every day." He says, going to wipe his camera lens with a microfiber cloth. He treated his cameras like his actual children.

"Not my fault." I reply through clenched teeth, placing a hand on my hip.

"You spilled an entire americano on his brand new, white kit. On his first day here." He says, recalling the embarrassing and aggravating incident.

"It was just an accident!" I retort, unfolding the papers again. "We could have moved on from that after I apologized, but he's decided to be an asshole about it."

So, who was the insufferable one here?

He doesn't say anything else, an uninterested sigh leaving his lips as he distracts himself with the lens.

I saw Luis as the older brother I never had, but he wasn't even taking my side in the situation.

Traitor.

I huff, turning away and looking around the pitch for some entertainment I could turn into content.

My eyes catch the players of the club warming up a couple meters away.

Easy content, my favorite.

"Can I get a camera?" I nudge Luis, his eyes looking up at mine.

"Should I trust you with one?" He says, voice unsure.

"Yes, just give me the smaller one." I usher, holding my hand out in anticipation.

He sighs again, grabbing the requested camera out of his equipment bag.

"Two hands." He mutters.

I roll my eyes, grabbing the camera with the apparently very necessary, two hands.

"I'll take care of your child." I mock, smile tugging at my lips as I see him get annoyed.

"Chill, I've got it." I add, walking away from him.

I was being serious, of course.

Firstly, I wanted these shots to come out perfectly. Secondly, I didn't want to get killed by him for ruining his precious camera. I had enough enemies in this club already. Losing an ally wasn't on my bingo list this season.

I turn the camera on clumsily, pointing it at the training players as I'm standing behind the goal.

How the hell does a small camera weigh this much? It genuinely felt like a bag of rocks weighing down on my arms.

I try to ignore the heaviness of the camera, filming the individual shooting of the players. Moving the camera when necessary.

I stand there for a moment, before I hear Luis come up to me, finally taking the camera out of my hands.

"How the hell do you even hold these cameras? My arm almost went numb." I say, rubbing my tired arm as I look at him.

"I go to the gym, unlike you- and I'm used to it by now." He replies, focusing on filming.

The urge to say something petty back is interrupted as Camavinga suddenly yells at us, our heads snapping up.

« Tu filmes? » are you filming?

He shouts in French, standing in his position.

I used to whine and complain about having to take French back in school, but now I was genuinely grateful for it. It was very useful now, even though I had forgotten a great chunk of it.

"Want us to?" I shout back in English, ignoring the fact that we are shouting back and forth like maniacs. He nods, giving us a thumbs up.

"Yeah, go ahead." I nudge Luis, making him film again. I grab him, making him take a step back for safety, watching Cama receive the ball and shoot, hitting the net perfectly.

I cheer quietly, not wanting to disturb the audio of the footage as he smiles back at me, walking back to stand and watch the other players.

I have been working in the marketing and PR department at Real Madrid for about two years now. The club and players were generally very nice to work with, which made my job so much better.

It wasn't my permanent job. I had just started my third year of my law degree this new school year, combining online classes with this job. Balancing did get difficult at times, but I liked the fact that it kept me busy and motivated.

"Think we're good to go." Luis says, interrupting my thoughts as he points his camera downward.

"You sure?" I ask, whipping my head around.

"Yeah, the sun is about to melt us and the camera. Come on, let's go inside." He says, grabbing my wrist and dragging me away from the pitch

"If you read this sentence, does it sound like I know what I'm talking about?" I ask Lina, her face scrunching up almost instantly. 

I was confident enough to write this essay on my own, really, but having a friend keep me company made it way more fun. 

"You know I don't like thinking about school. That's in the past for me." She says, her hands coming up in front of her defensively. 

"Come on, please? I'll grab a drink for you in a minute." I beg, placing my hands on her shoulders, shaking her back and forth.

"Make it two."

"Deal."

"Okay, show me." She says, shoving a piece of pineapple into her mouth, grabbing my laptop and leaning forward as I repeat the question. 

She types away for a second, adding a few words before turning to me after reading the sentence again. 

"What are you writing? The damn Magna Carta? What kind of essay is this?" She asks, her eyebrows raised. 

"It's about EU law." I sigh, I liked this subject, it was very interesting, but I couldn't wait to be done with this fifteen page essay. 

"Explains a lot." She says, shoving another piece of fruit into her mouth. Her fork suddenly appearing in front of my face, a piece of watermelon spiced onto it. 

"Thanks." I mutter, biting off the piece of fruit as I hear commotion in the hallways. 

"Get me my drinks, please?" She asks, blinking at me. I roll my eyes, push my laptop back and get up. 

"Let me guess, a lime soda and an orange juice?" 

"You got it." She winks, smiling at me. 

I chuckle at her, looking up as I watch the players pile into the cafeteria. 

"Lunchtime?" I mouth at Lina, she checks the time on her phone, nodding. 

I make my way to the bar, extending my arms up to grab two cups. The feeling of someone's hand on mine catching me off guard as I immediately let go of the cup. Turning around to see Jude right behind me. 

"What are you doing?" I ask, sending him a nasty look. Invading my personal space wasn't enough, now he wants to steal my cup?

"Grabbing a cup?" He retorts in a menacing tone, sending a glare back. 

I look at him, watching him fill his stolen cup with water, before he looks at me again. 

"What?"

"Can you move?" I ask through gritted teeth, motioning to him how he's basically entrapping me in between the counter and himself. 

He looks at me for a second as if to provoke me more, finally stepping away when I sigh. 

I scoff, rolling my eyes and extend my arm to grab another cup apart from the one I already had. 

I give him another nasty look, before filling both cups up and finally leaving his vicinity. 

"Don't spill it on anyone." He says, mocking tone clear as day. 

I turn again, fighting the urge to throw the precious orange juice into his annoying face before sighing and walking away. 

"Hope he chokes on his water." I mutter, finally putting the two cups down on the table, in front of Lina. 

"What was that back there? Another one of your tantrums?"

"No, his tantrum after he couldn't grab another cup, other than the one my hand was already on."

She chuckles, and I send her a slight glare, trying to delve back into my essay. 

I was maybe halfway through already, having to hand it in next week. I might have procrastinated a little, but one thing about me was that I'll always get it done on time. No matter what. 

Though, as I keep reading the word vomit I had written, I feel a wave of annoyance flow through me. I grunt, putting my face flat on the table. 

Two more years, then I could finally do my specialization. Two more years. 

"What's gotten into her?" I hear, recognizing Luis' voice. Then I hear a shift of the chair across from me as he sits down with- probably a tray of food. 

"Essay." I hear Lina mumble, a hum coming from Luis in acknowledgment.

"Are you still not done with that essay? You got it assigned like three weeks ago." He says in a nagging tone. 

I groan, remembering that I said that I wouldn't procrastinate this school year. Past me definitely hated the present me, and for sure hated future me even more if I kept this up. 

I raise my head, huffing before sitting up straight.  I blink a couple times to clear my vision and start to vigorously type again. 

"Have you guys seen the final edit for tomorrow's match?" Luis says, covering his full mouth with his hand. 

"No, who approved it?" I ask confused, glancing at the both of them and returning my gaze to my screen.

"Valeria did." He says. I look at him for a moment, scrunching my eyebrows together. 

"Not surprised." I mutter, taking a sip of my coffee. 

"Speaking of the devil." Lina says, and my eyes immediately dart around the room to find the devil in question. 

She's staring right at our table, making a beeline towards us as the clicks of her heels get louder and louder. 

Please don't sit here. 

She gives us a painfully fake smile, swinging the iPad in her hand back and forth. 

"Have you guys seen the edit I approved?"

Not even a hello?

"No, we haven't." Lina answers, and I stare at Valeria as she unfortunately sits across from me. 

She chuckles, practically shoving the IPad in our faces, showing off the edit. 

"It's perfect, isn't it?" She chuckles again, and I fight the urge to cover my ears instead of hearing her ear deafening, high-pitched laughter. 

"It's alright." I say, giving her a smile. My opinion really didn't matter to her anyway, the least I could do was pretend to like it. 

She nods, suddenly looking directly at me, glancing down at my laptop. 

"Still working on school? Can't even think of how someone like you can balance it with this busy job." She says, smile pulling at her lips. 

I raise my brows, looking at Lina and Luis for confirmation of what I had just heard her say. 

They give me the same 'what the fuck' look, and I look back at Valeria, giving her a fake smile. 

"I'm sure you couldn't think of it, Valeria." I say, keeping my retort minimal, I had to keep it professional, unlike her. 

She looks at me, no words are exchanged further as an almost minute long silence follows. 

She finally decides to leave after, sending both Luis and Lina a wave, doing her best to ignore me further. 

"She's so weird. Always on my ass about something." I mutter, starting to type again. 

"Don't think she's gotten over the fact that you were chosen to travel with the team this season." Lina says, patting my shoulder. 

"Well, too bad for her. Like I've got time for her petty conversations."

If I was being honest; I couldn't stand being within five meters of her. And with the amount of meetings we had together, made life a little more difficult than I would've liked. 

"Besides, you're coming with me. Why isn't she on your ass as well?" I ask Luis, seeing him shrug. 

"Because I'm handsome?" He smirks, starting to flex his arms. 

"She's annoying, but she doesn't have a vision problem." I hear Lina say, the both of us bursting out in laughter. Luis looking at us with the most defeated look ever, making us laugh even louder.

"Okay, alright, sorry. You're very handsome, we're just having a little fun. I promise." I say patting his hand, holding back more laughter as I dab away moisture from my eyes. 

I finish typing my current chapter after calming down, observing the text, and double saving the document before turning my laptop off. I look around for a second, seeing the players and staff chat and laugh together. The buzzing of my phone redirecting my attention back to our table. 

"y/n- your phone." Lina says, grabbing it to hand it to me. 

I grab it after thanking her, reading the caller ID. 

"Oh, it's my dad." I mutter. "I'll be back in a minute." I say, standing up to walk out of the cafeteria. I look around for a moment, then slide my finger to the right to pick up the call. 

"Dad?"

"y/n, how's work going?" He says, the sound of a paper shredder in the background almost sabotaging my understanding of his sentence. 

"Good, we're having lunch. How about you?" I reply, leaning against the wall. 

"Same old. I called to tell you- I'm not having dinner at home tonight. Ask Carmen to make something you want to eat." 

I hold back a sigh, closing my eyes in annoyance. He'd been working a lot since I was little, day and night. It had paid off very well. We had a big house and a beautiful backyard. He owned a law firm, in a nice area of the city and had a lot of clients.

His firm was also the legal representative of the club, being very close with President Pérez and manager Ancelotti themselves and other higher ups. 

Of course, I was still thankful, I never had to worry about necessities like food and clothes, they were always provided for me on a silver spoon. 

"Alright dad. See you tonight, love you." 

I hang up, shoving my phone into my back pocket, and walk back into the cafeteria.

"I'm going back to the office." I tell Lina and Luis, them looking up at me in concern. 

"Why? Did something happen?" Luis asks, fixing his dark, curly hair.  

"No, I just want to make sure everything is perfect for tomorrow." I force a smile, trying to cover up the fact that my mood was definitely ruined after that phone call. 

I grab my laptop, holding it in between my arm and chest as I start making my way out of the cafeteria. 

Not before I'm stopped by someone calling out to me. 

"y/n!" I hear, looking up and seeing Vini call me over, Rodrygo and sadly, Jude standing next to him. 

How did this communication even work?

I raise a brow, walking over to them. 

"What's with that face? Trouble with your boyfriend?" Vini says in Spanish, greeting me with a hug. 

"It's nothing like that! It was just my dad." I deny, laughing at him. My smile totally disappearing from my face when I make accidental eye contact with an irritated looking Jude next to Vini.

"Right, how's your dad? He hasn't been around lately." Rodrygo asks, greeting me as well. 

"Busy- you know how he is..." I reply, swatting my hand. "I'll try to convince him to visit." I smile. 

"Will you be coming with us to tomorrow's match?" Vini asks. 

"Oh yeah, I'll be joining you on all the matches this season. You guys got lucky this time." I joke, giving him a little wink. 

The two Brazilian men laugh, Vini patting my shoulder as I excuse myself to go up. 

I twist the key in the door lock, opening the front door to my house. The smell of spices and sauces filling up my nostrils. I scramble to take my shoes off, throwing my bag onto the floor and making a beeline to the kitchen area. 

"Aunty Carmen!" I exclaim, hugging her tightly. 

"Oh my girl!" She coos, squeezing me even tighter. 

"I missed you so much." I say, planting a kiss on her soft cheek, letting go of her. 

"Me too. Come on, get cleaned up and we'll have dinner." She says warmly, going back to stirring the food. 

Aunty Carmen was the lady who had been cooking for me and my dad since I was a child. Her food was finger-licking good, and I don't think I could ever survive without it. 

She'd partially raised me, alongside my biological aunt, whom I lived in the UK with for a couple of years. 

I had begged my dad to not send me to a boarding school, so he'd decided to send me off to live with my aunt, and made me attend an international school instead. A place, consisting of cultures and languages I always craved to be surrounded with becoming my second home. 

"When is your dad coming?"

"Oh no, my dad isn't coming for dinner." I explain, pulling out two spoons and two forks out of the cabinet and walking over to the dinner table. 

"He wasn't home last time either, why?"

"Too busy. You know how he is." I mumble, filling her glass with water. 

"I'm sorry, my girl." 

"It's fine- I'm used to it by now. You're here tonight at least." I beam, starting to dig into the food. 

"Aunty, you never disappoint!" I exclaim, shoving another spoonful of food into my mouth.

"Slow down! It's not going to run away from you." She fusses, taking a bite of the food herself. 

A comfortable silence falls in between us, the sound of our utensils clattering against the plates and bowls accompanied by the occasional comment about the taste of the food. 

I join her in cleaning up the table, placing the rinsed dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and putting  the leftovers into the fridge. 

"If you look closely, you can see the food I made for the rest of the week. Make sure you close the lids well, so it can stay fresh." She says, drying her wet hands on a kitchen towel. 

"Thank you." I say, giving her another hug. 

"Oh, you're leaving already?" I ask, watching her grab her handbag. It was a pretty brown bag, a birthday present from me a couple years ago. 

"I do sweetie. Take care of yourself." She says, pulling me into a hug. 

"-and lock your doors, don't open them for anyone." 

"You know I'm not a child anymore. I'm twenty already! Besides, we have security cameras everywhere." I complain, folding my arms up to my chest. 

"You've grown up too fast." She says, pinching the fat of my cheek, making me whine at the pain. 

I sigh, a little sad as she opens the front door and walks out. I wave one more time, closing the door behind her and locking it as she had instructed. 

My dad had keys to get in when I went to bed anyway. 

I decide to get ready for bed, turning on the now full dishwasher, and going up to my room. Hoping everything will go smoothly as planned tomorrow.

[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - ch 7

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 13.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Reader being self-conscious as usual. Some conversation about blood/vampire eating habits. But mostly this is just unabashed fluff and flirting. Summary: Allison helps you get ready for your first date with Max, and as scared as you are, you are equally excited for the night ahead. Notes: For our chapter banner this week: the White Horse Tavern! A real and very lovely place in Newport, RI. May or may not actually be owned by vampires, though...I'll have to get back to y'all on that...

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6

It’s cute, utterly charming really, the way that you are currently freaking out in your bedroom. Max isn’t trying to eavesdrop, but you are being so loud that he can’t help but listen. Especially at first, when he wanted to make sure that you weren’t hurt. After the initial scream, he realizes you were panicking about the date he had formally asked you on. Deciding that visiting the dance studios deserved a little bit of flair. He had asked you if he could take you to dinner beforehand. You’re his soulmate, you deserve effort. Something that you’ve obviously received precious little from by the previous asshole in your life. For once, Max wants to make sure that you completely forget about that douchebag. Never jealous of anyone’s previous lovers, he wants to make you realize that you were just having a bad dream for the past ten plus years. Now you are awake, now you can enjoy yourself.

"Alli, you can't be serious?" Nearly clutching the dress that she brought over for you to borrow in two shaky hands, you look over the skimpy black number with trepidation. This is your fault. You know that. You're the one who went to the cheese shop at the end of her shift this afternoon to get some advice. She had sent you home to pull out your most comfortable pair of dancing shoes and swore to provide the perfect dress if you just promised to trust her. And you do trust her. She has never given you any reason not to. But this dress is short.

“Come on, it’s perfect!” She’s grinning from ear to ear, ecstatic for you and your date. It makes perfect sense now why Max had been hovering around you as a bat. You’re his soulmate. It’s so romantic, she wants to cry. “You’ll look amazing and Max will be panting to get under it!”

“It’s just the first date,” You remind her, nervous at even the mention of any kind of intimacy. Not because you don’t want Max — but maybe instead because you do and you haven’t felt that in so many years.

“The first date with your soulmate.” She reminds you with a smirk. “He’s supposed to be your perfect match, so it’s okay to put out on the first date.” She teases.

“He’s also my housemate, so if I do and that’s all he wanted from me it’s going to be awkward as hell.” It’s not that you think that of Max. It’s that the voice of doubt in your head is still loud and clear over everything else. “I’m just... I’m nervous.”

“Do you honestly think he would have joined a coven of witches at a Mabon celebration if all he wanted was the good-good?” She asks, arching a brow curiously.

“Well…no.” You snort, shaking your head at Allison. “And if you ever call it that again I won’t tell you if it actually happens.”

Laughing, Allison waggles her brows. The term was meant to disarm you and it worked. “Fine.” She huffs. “But I want details. Vampires are supposed to be incredible lovers.”

“You could always find out for yourself.” Aware of what Max had mentioned about their superior hearing, and unsure if Eddie is at home at the moment, you lower your voice measurably. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Eddie lately.”

"What?" Her lip immediately goes between her teeth and she blushes furiously. "We are just — you know — uh, collaborating for the masquerade."

“Mmhmm.” Drawing out the sound incredulously, you grin again and eye the dress in her hands. “Tell me everything and I will try the dress on. Just to see.”

"He's nice." She hands you the dress in exchange for information. "I like talking to him. He's — well, he's just so...human."

“He is very nice.” The short dress has a beautiful, flowy skirt that will be great for dancing and you disappear into your dressing room with it with trepidation. “And he likes you! It’s even obvious to me and my observation skills suck.”

"Please...." She rolls her eyes, even if you can't see her. "I think he's just being nice because he wants to join the coven."

“If that was the case, he’d be making nice with everyone, not meeting you in town to take you out for coffee.” Having found out that that was where Eddie was on the night that you and Max had been left to eat dinner together, you found that there was no possible way to be upset about it. Things with Max are…they’re moving forward in a way that makes you nervous and giddy. And whatever is growing between Eddie and Allison is obviously mutual.

She huffs and bites her lip again. "We have a lot in common and I enjoy talking with him. Even though he's been in college forever, he's still enthusiastic about learning. He's even talking about coming out to the farm."

“That sounds like fun!” Finding the zipper on Allison’s strappy black dress takes a second, but you’re able to exchange the one you’ve been wearing all day today for the one she brought for you to borrow. The deep v-neckline and cutouts in the back are more skin than you’ve shown in years but you know instinctively that it’s the kind of thing Max will love. Fashionable and daring. The kind of girl he deserves even if it’s not the kind of girl you feel like. “Okay…um…I’m coming out.”

Allison gasps as you emerge from your dressing room, nodding immediately. "It's perfect, you can't convince me otherwise. Look at yourself!" She squeals as she guides you towards a mirror.

"Kind of weird that we're the exact same size..." Even standing directly in front of the mirror you can't bring yourself to look up. To look at yourself in any kind of positive way whatsoever. It's like it's been beaten out of you as if you were a stray dog. "It fits well."

"I'd be lucky if I still fit in it." She huffs. "Too much cheese. But you, you've got such a perfect figure to pull this off."

"No such thing as 'too much cheese'," you gripe, shuffling slightly in front of the full—length mirror. You're just staring at your shoes and fighting with yourself to figure out if you're brave enough to look up. "Do you...think he'll like it?" If he does, it doesn't matter what you think anyway. Max's opinion is the only one that matters.

"I think he will love it." She assures you, reaching up and touching your shoulders. "It will restart his non-beating heart."

"Apparently only one thing can actually do that." Digging into your armoire for a sweater, you come out with one that is midnight blue and black with little gold stars stitched all over it. It's still cold out, after all, and this will help you to feel a little less exposed.

"What is that?" She's always been interested in the dynamics of vampirism but she's too polite to ask Eddie to answer her questions.

"Apparently..." Clearing your throat slightly and pulling your sweater tight around your shoulders, you glance up and meet Allison's eyes in the mirror. "A kiss from their soulmate."

"Ohhhh now that's the most romantic thing that I've ever heard." She moans, softening visibility and looking amost wistful at the thought. "Come on, Dolly, that's just so romantic."

"I told Max that it sounded like something out of a romance novel." Which is a sentiment that you stand by very firmly. "Who knows how true it is. But it's sweet to imagine."

"Maybe you will find out tonight." She offers with a sincere smile, not wanting to tease you. "I really think he likes you, Dolly. All that time as a bat, visiting you? Being near you. He was drawn to you."

"I still can't believe that was him." She knows all about those nighttime visits of course. You hadn't thought it was a big deal to tell her about the little bat that visited you, but now you see that it was all so much more important than you realized. And she had known the entire time, but never made you feel silly for not guessing. How could you?

"It's sweet." She hums, smiling again. "I want to see him again like a bat. It was so cute to see him on your shoulder, cuddling into your neck."

“He said he didn’t mind transforming again sometimes if I wanted him to.” Suddenly you feel like you should be busy again, and you move to your jewelry box out of nerves. “He knows that I found it…comfortable. But we might get a pet for the house.”

"Okay, so Max would change into a bat to comfort you, and you still wonder if he likes you?" After spending time with you, she's learned of your ex and she understands your trepidation. "I don't think you should."

“I just…” You sigh, feeling your shoulders start to curl, and you take two long breaths in and out to prevent it. “I hope I’m more than a novelty to him, that’s all. His life is so long. It’s forever and I’m not saying he has to propose or anything crazy. I just…I would like to think a person should feel important to their soulmate. I haven’t been important to anybody since my parents died.”

"You know how long Cookie lived." Allison reminds you. "You could do the same. She—" She pauses for a moment. "Her decision to no longer prolong her life was a very serious one. But until she stopped taking her soulmate's blood, she looked no older than forty."

“Why did she stop?” That has never truly made sense to you. If someone was happy with their eternal life, why on earth would they give it up?

She sighs softly. "It— a very power spell was cast. Meant to last through time until death." She explains quietly. "It was the only way to break it and it was important enough to her to break it."

“What sort of a witch would cast something that depends on life or death?” The idea strikes you as positively cruel, but of course you can’t know what the spell was or the circumstances.

"One that knew that her soulmate could provide her with immortality." Allison explains. "It was...done in anger. Hopefully regretted, but nothing I could find could break it. Cookie spent years trying to break it."

“That’s awful.” As angry as you had ever been in your life at certain people or certain circumstances, you can’t ever imagine that type of anger. Not to mention you’ve never done much spell work beyond lighting a candle or floating an object across a room. And you’re woefully out of practice at even those.

"It was...complicated." Allison hums, "from what I've heard. I never got to meet the person." She knows more of the story, Cookie confided in her in an effort to find a way to break the spell, but she wouldn't betray the woman's confidence, even in death. Especially when it was his place to explain.

“I hope that everything worked out the way she wanted it to, then. Even if she isn’t here to see it.” Concentrating on your jewelry box is the best you can do and not get upset for no reason — but something about the whole situation just makes you overwhelmingly sad.

Allison bites her lip but just makes a non-committal sound. “So where is Max taking you for dinner?” Wanting to change the subject, but also genuinely curious as to your first date details.

“He said there was a vampire-owned restaurant on the island that was really nice.” When you had insisted that dinner wasn’t necessary because he didn’t need to eat food, he had come back with the alternative of a restaurant that also discreetly served blood to discerning patrons. That had been enough to make you agree. “It’s…a tavern? The White Horse Tavern?”

She’s impressed. Whistling lowly, she nods. “It’s only the oldest tavern in the country.” She tells you with a grin. “Super swanky, so it sounds like Max is wanting to do things right. Dinner, dancing….” She sighs. “Sounds incredibly romantic for a first date.”

“He really…he doesn’t have to make a big deal out of it.” And you had told Max that, but he had only shaken his head and told you the restaurant would be perfect. “It’s very romantic, but I guess I’m just…a little worried I won’t live up to it. And I would hate to disappoint him.”

“Why would you disappoint him?” She asks. “He knows you. This isn’t a blind date.”

The irony of that observation makes you laugh dryly, and you turn to look at her instead of searching for earrings. "It was supposed to be," you tell her honestly. "We were supposed to go on a blind date. In college."

“Really?” Her eyes widen. “What happened? Why didn’t you go? You mean you could have known Max this entire time?”

“He had an emergency that night. He couldn’t come.” There is such an ache in your heart realizing that — if things had been different — he could have graduated as a human and you could have been together for ten years already. “Everything could have been so different.”

“Do you—” she pauses for a moment. “Do you resent him for that? Because of being with your ex?”

“No.” Surprisingly enough, that answer is easy. It isn’t Max’s fault that Derek was in that bar that night. He had his life turned upside down in a completely different way. “I just wonder what the second chance will be like.”

“While Max can be cocky, he’s also more mature than he would have been ten years ago.” Allison tells you. “So I think it will be very good for both of you.”

"I hope so." That hope is a long buried feeling for you, and while you feel silly for admitting it...Allison has never been anything but welcoming, friendly, and supportive with you. She's the friend you had dearly missed having for all these years. "I'm different than I used to be, too. I just hope we're not too different."

“Eddie told me that Max, uh, he had a second chance.” Allison admits. “That he lost all his scars? So if you had changed too much, wouldn’t your birthmark never reappear?”

Startled by the solid logic of that thought, you almost reel backward, standing up a little straighter in surprise. "I guess...I never thought of it like that."

She smiles, happy that she could reassure you in some small way. “Then remember that the universe chose you as his soulmate, twice.”

"What about your soulmate?" She's never talked about it before but you feel like this is the time to ask if there is ever going to be one.

“I don’t think I have one.” She admits quietly. “I’ve never had scars, birthmarks or anything.” She shrugs. “Some people don’t.”

"Maybe your soulmate just didn't want to mark you up because they already know you're perfect just as you are." Of course, Allison is right. Some people just don't have soulmates. But that kind of loneliness is not something you would ever wish on anyone as kind as she is.

“Who knows?” She’s very doubtful of that, but it’s sweet that you would want to comfort her. “It just means that I get to enjoy everyone else finding their soulmates.”

“And you can make your own decision for your life. Whatever that decision turns out to be.” There is a matching set of jewelry in your box — a necklace and earrings that all bear golden crescent moon pendants with a little blue stone hanging like a star inside it — and you pick those out to wear tonight. “My parents weren’t soulmates, you know. They just loved each other. Fiercely and with everything they had. Just because someone isn’t your soulmate doesn’t mean they’re not going to be good for you.”

“They weren’t?” She asks curiously, tilting her head in shock.

“No.” The earrings slide into place easily and the matching necklace is a comfort, making you feel a little less exposed in the outfit you’re wearing. Makeup is the last touch. “They met at my mother’s work. She was a librarian and Dad was doing research for his doctoral thesis. She dropped a book that she was trying to get off a high shelf and he picked it up for her. That was that. They were inseparable for the rest of their lives.”

“That’s so sweet. They were both witches too?” She remembers you talking about being raised a witch, but didn’t want to assume.

“My dad was a Bishop on his mother’s side.” It was always a point of pride for him, to be descended from one of the Salem witches, and so it is for you as well. “Mom didn’t know her family, but she was a witch by her own devices, I guess.”

“Was she adopted?” She wonders, asking delicately.

“She never really talked about it.” Which had always struck you as strange, and then was downright inconvenient later in life. “She used to call Dad’s parents her adoptive family and stuff like that. We weren’t close to them, though. I guess they didn’t like that he moved away from Massachusetts, but they liked Mom well enough. They were everything I had and then…they were gone.”

“That’s so horrible. I’m so sorry. I know that it’s hard to lose a parent.” She murmurs softly. “Even worse to lose both at the same time.”

“That’s…kind of why this has been so nice,” you admit, turning to look at Allison again. “I know I didn’t know Cookie. And that we were only loosely related. But it’s kind of like getting my family back. Or as close to it as I’ll ever come, anyway.”

Allison reaches out and takes your hand. "I hope that you know that we will happily be your family. Found family is the ones that you love the most."

The sincerity of the moment cracks something tight in your chest, and before you know it you’re pulling Allison in and hugging her tightly, just willing yourself not to shed tears into her oversized sweater. “Thank you.” Two shattered words, but they are the best you can do at first. Until you manage a deep breath and huff out a half—laugh before pulling away again. “You’ve been so kind to me right from the start. All of you have. And I can’t possibly say how grateful I am. It’s…well, it’s been years since I’ve had a close friend and you’re just…you’re the sweetest woman in the whole world.”

"I felt that you had the kindest energy." She admits, "just that you were...lost. But now it seems that you have found yourself. You are finding yourself, who you are meant to be."

“Whoever that ends up being,” you squeeze her shoulder gently. “I owe her, at least in part, to you.”

"No." She shakes her head, smiling at you as if you were the most precious thing. "You have done this all on your own. You just let are letting her shine through."

“You’re the sweetest person in the whole world.” And she’s yet one more unexpected part of this whole wonderful situation, which you find yourself grateful for all over again. “You should go see if Eddie is home, honey. No sense in letting him sit at home alone while Max and I are out, right?”

She bites her lip again, a habit of hers when you mention Eddie. "I think I will." She decides with a small grin. "Wish me luck."

“Good luck.” Although you don’t think she’s going to need it. Not when it comes to Eddie.

"Do you want me to help you finish getting ready?" She offers, tilting her head playfully.

“It’s just my makeup left, and I can manage that.” The vintage purse you’ll be taking is already packed, and a moment alone to remind your reflection that this is a good thing, not something to be afraid of would probably be good. “Go and have your own fun night, honey. I want to hear all about it tomorrow.”

She turns to walk slowly to the door. Turning at the entryway and watching you as you admire or maybe critique your looks in the mirror. "You look amazing and I know tonight will be perfect." She predicts with a wink. "Let me know if you are still up for brunch tomorrow or if you need some recovery time."

“There will be nothing to recover from.” Still, you shoo her toward the door playfully and smile when she worries her bottom lip between her teeth again but makes her way straight across the second floor hall, through the shortcut to Eddie’s room.

******

Max checks his suit, feeling slightly guilty that you are so worked up. Maybe he should have eased you into this. Maybe something more low key was what you are interested in. The flowers he had bought are already sitting in a vase, at Mrs. Taylor’s insistence, and he wonders if he should even give them to you.

Sitting down at your vanity, the clock says five minutes until you promised Max you would be ready and you line up your makeup and brushes with practiced precision. Nothing can or will go wrong tonight, you have told yourself over and over all day long. It is far too important. But the moment you look up at your mirror, your eyes connect with the carnival photo booth snapshot of you and your mother from when you were twelve years old, and you breathe a soft sigh. “You’d like him,” you promise your mother out loud. “He’s sweet. And doesn’t like it when I get in my own way. Which is…it’s a relief.”

Max decides that he will bring you the flowers. Every woman deserves romance, especially from her soulmate. He gives you another minute before he’s knocking on the door, not wanting to rush you, there’s plenty of time built into the night.

The knock is a nice gesture, given that you both know what tonight is and he knows you’re inside. Still, you exhale slowly and open your bedroom door exactly the same as if it had been the front door of your house that he was picking you up at. The suit he picked out is immaculate, with a crisp, clean shirt and no tie to make it a little less formal. And you had meant to compliment him when you opened the door. You really had. But all the comes out is a soft “Wow…” instead.

He chuckles, charmed by your honest reaction. “Is that for me or the flowers?” He asks, holding them up for you to see properly.

“Can it be both?” You ask, embarrassed to admit that you hadn’t even noticed the flowers until he held them up.

“I’ll take that.” He flashes you a grin before he slowly peruses your dress with appraisal.

“If you don’t like it, I can change.” The offer is immediate, unable to read his expression and figure out whether or not he approves of your borrowed dress.

"Don't you dare." He insists, frowning at the mere idea of you changing. "You look...stunning. I don't know if I should change. Make myself more presentable."

“More presentable?” Huffing at him even as you step aside to let him into your room for a moment, you just shake your head. “That suit would make Frank Sinatra jealous. You couldn’t possibly look more presentable.”

“I don’t know, sweetheart, have you looked in the mirror tonight?” He asks as he sets the flowers down and turns to you to take your hands and holds them wide to get a better look. “You are breathtaking and that’s saying something, coming from a vampire.”

“Allison let me borrow it,” you admit, feeling your cheeks heat almost uncontrollably at the compliment. “She, um…she helped me get ready. Now she’s going to spend some time with Eddie while we’re out.” It makes you feel less guilty to know neither of them will be lonely. The idea that your happiness comes last has been pervasive for a long time, but you’re trying to be cognizant of it. To shake it.

“Well, she needs to help you spend some of that money buying flirty, fun dresses like this to wear.” He hums. “Because I can see having regular dinner and dancing dates with you.”

“I’ll have to tell her you approve. And the flowers are beautiful, by the way.” The burst of red, orange, and yellow that now sits on your nightstand is brilliant, and you pick up your purse from beside it. “Are you ready to go?”

“Whenever you are, Queenie.” His hand hovers for a split second before resting on your lower back. Guiding you towards the door of your rooms. The door that he had left open to make sure you were comfortable. Just because he lives here doesn’t mean he will impose.

Shutting the door behind you and heading for the stairs, you can hear the soft sound of laughter from Eddie's room. It sounds like they're going to have a wonderful night ahead of them and you note with interest that even though you don't feel any warmth from Max's hand on our back there is still a solid presence there beside you. "How was work today?" Instead of dwelling, you turn all of your attention to Max, wanting to hear anything and everything he has to tell you about his workday.

“It was pretty good, I have a new line on another business deal. Hopefully it will pan out. What did you do besides worry about tonight?” He asks curiously.

He does have a point. You went panicking to Allison, after all. But you smile at the question anyway. "Mrs. Taylor and I nailed down the menu for the masquerade this morning."

“Oh really?” His brow shoots up and he grins. “And what will we be feasting on during the masquerade?”

"The menus that she had mocked up were seven, ten, and twelve courses." As much as you had respected the dedication to the Gilded Age theme, it had seemed a little too much to you and eventually you and your vampiric housekeeper had whittled the ideas down to the best of four courses. "It will be potato leek soup, a fish course with asparagus and hollandaise, chicken...something or other...I think she said it's called Lyonnaise? With mashed potatoes as the main course, and then champagne and strawberry cake for dessert that she said was Cookie's favourite. It felt like a nice way to pay tribute to her." Of course there was discussion of vegetarian options being needed, but when tickets are bought people will have the chance to indicate that they don't eat meat and then that bridge will be crossed when necessary.

“And I am assuming that there is an assortment of finger foods that will be served between dances?” He asks, amused by the dedication.

"According to Mrs. Taylor, it should be several different kinds of drinks and a few sweets to choose from on a buffet table in the dining room." The immense amount of work had shocked you when Mrs. Taylor had laid the whole thing out, but she assured you that she and Renee had everything in hand with just a little extra help from Mr. Taylor and Mr. Finchley. "Then, of course, there's the breakfast for whoever is still left at sunrise."

“This is going to be an amazing night for Newport.” He predicts. “Like nothing they’ve seen for years. I bet they will be clamoring for it to become an annual event.”

"Hopefully it's not too much on Mrs. Taylor and Renee. They're both very excited but it sounds like a whole lot of work to me." At the bottom of the stairs, Max opens the door for you and ushers you through with a smile. "If it becomes something annual I'm going to insist on having extra help for her next year. I know they're both...superhuman, but they shouldn't have to overdo it."

“You know they don’t even break a sweat, right?” He asks as he moves his hand from your back to offer his arm to escort you down the steps.

"They can still only do one thing at a time. Four people cooking for that many guests is a tall order for anyone." He acts like it's the most natural thing in the world to escort you down the front steps and out the front door like a perfect gentleman. Meanwhile you are all but swooning at his side over just the simple act of having an arm offered to you.

“That woman loves to care for people.” He reminds you with a chuckle. “I would say she lives for it, but we both know that’s not true.”

"She exists for it?" You offer with a soft chuckle.

“That’s the way to put it.” Max chuckles and opens the front door to show that his car has been brought forward. Waiting for you.

So far all you've done is walk to his car together but already you feel like a princess. Maybe the bar is set a little too low, or maybe he's doing all the right things — you really can't tell. What you do know, as Max closes the passenger side door and rounds the hood of his car in less than the blink of an eye to get in beside you, is that this is definitely how you always dreamed of dates starting out.

Max buckles his seatbelt and looks over at you with a slight smile. “Are you ready, Queenie?” He asks softly. “If you want to go home at any time, you let me know.”

He's being so gentle with you that it's heartbreaking and heartwarming all at once. The idea that you need to be handled with such a soft touch is a little embarrassing, but the fact that he is being so caring without any kind of request or even indication on your part is just...well, it's just about the sweetest thing you've ever heard in your life. "I'm okay," you promise him, reaching out to put your hand softly over his on the gear shift. "I know you heard me being anxious earlier, but I've been looking forward to this since you asked." And more than that, you've been looking forward to a first date with your soulmate for your entire life.

“Good.” Max hums, turning his hand so you can slide your fingers through his if you want. “I want you to enjoy yourself. There’s no expectations for tonight. No pressure. I just want you to have a night that we should have had ten years ago.”

"Ten years ago it would have been chicken wings and a jukebox in a bar." Which isn't a bad thing, but it isn't what you dreamed of. What you've dreamed of is much closer to this: your fingers fitting neatly through his as he pulls away from the house on your way to a beautiful dinner and a night of dancing. "Let's call tonight the...grown up version."

“The grown up version.” Max hums as he pulls out onto the street. “Well, it’s a good thing then. I wouldn’t have known how to dance then.” He reminds you. “Now I can waltz with you properly.”

“To be honest I never assumed my soulmate would be a dancer.” It’s a perk, obviously. And one that you hold very dear after so many years without dance in your life. But never something you considered mandatory. “It’s like the icing on a cake I already know I like.”

“I think that it’s complementary.” He agrees. “It’s something that we can do together. And neither one of us has to pretend to like it.”

“What else do you like to do?” Other than his work, and having a few things in common like reading and dancing, it occurs to you that you don’t know much about him.

Max smirks. “I like to play poker.” He admits. “There’s this monthly game I’m in. High stakes, pretty much a two day event.”

“High risk, high reward.” Just like his sales deals, you note. He’s mentioned some of them being for upwards of a few million dollars. “I can’t say I’ve ever been great at cards but I do like to play sometimes.”

“Maybe we can play sometime?” He offers. “There’s some lower stakes games, just for fun.”

“I used to play poker for M&Ms with my Dad,” you admit, smiling at the memory. “Any game can be lower stakes if you let it.”

He chuckles, knowing that is true and refrains from offering to play strip poker. “What else did you do with your dad?”

“He liked to paint.” It’s been a long time since you’ve talked about your parents to anyone, but since coming to Newport your family and your past has seemed more relevant than ever. Almost like they had gone on a terribly long vacation instead of being violently ripped from you the summer before you started college. “He would take me to art museums and was the only Dad in my Mommy and Me Painting Class when I was little. We’d play card games and board games and plan all the trips around the world that we would take when I got older.” The last memory makes you shrug, eyes cast down at the floor of Max’s sports car. “We never got to take any of the trips we planned, but it was a fun way to pass a rainy day. It made me think for a while that I could be a travel agent when I grew up.”

“I’m sorry that you didn’t get to travel.” Max tells you quietly, wishing he had some memories like that with his parents. Maybe it would have made it easier when he was alone. But he doubts it. “You should travel.” He tells you. “Go all the places you planned with him. A remembrance trip once a year maybe.”

“I’m not very good at being alone.” Maybe it’s why you stayed with Derek so long. Maybe it isn’t. You can’t be too sure either way, but you know that being lonely is one of your least favourite feelings in the world. “But maybe I’ll try. If…there isn’t someone to come with me, I mean.”

“You don’t have to be alone, Queenie.” Max promises. “There’s your coven, I’m sure any one of them would love to go on a trip with you. Eddie loves to travel and of course, I will go wherever you wanted anytime.”

"You say 'of course' like it's the easiest thing in the world." Your fingers curl around his palm instinctively, afraid to let go of him now that you're allowed to be close in any small way. "But it...it means everything."

“You are my soulmate.” He stresses quietly. “Even if platonic soulmates was all you wanted, I would want to spend time with you.”

"It's not." He's pulled up to a stoplight on Bellevue, and even though your voice is quiet, it's sure. You're just not quite strong enough to look up at him while you say it. "It's...not at all what I want. I just need you to be patient with me. While I...I don't know...figure out how to not be so scared anymore."

“I have eternity.” He reminds you with a grin, wishing he could banish the sadness and fear in your eyes. “And you can have that too.”

"That's a very big offering considering it's only our first date." Trying for a little bit of humor — to lift your own spirits as well as his — you squeeze his hand again when the light turns and he pulls through the intersection. "Let's see how we feel about living in the same house and dancing together and maybe we'll talk about eternity after that. Sound good?"

He squeezes your hand gently. “That sounds like a good idea. Sometimes I get ahead of myself.” He winks before he looks back at the road.

******

It takes a whole six minutes to get from the front gate of Chateau-sur-Mer to the White Horse Tavern, according to the clock on the dashboard of Max's Lexus, and when he pulls into the parking lot the place seems to be completely full to the brim. There's no loud music or bright lights like you might have expected at some place called a tavern, but instead there are people in very smart clothes streaming in and out of the building alternately — and once you're inside there are white tablecloths and lovely candles on every table.

“Now you see why I thought of this place.” He murmurs in your ear, his hand on your back again. Not possessive, but protective. Guiding you up to the host stand. “Reservation for Phillips, table for two.” He responds slightly smug when asked for his name. He is smug about having you here, proud that this date is happening. Eager to learn more about his pretty soulmate.

"Right this way." The hostess smiles politely and leads the way, bringing the two of you to a table in the corner surrounded by other chattering couples on dates enjoying the warm glow of romantic candlelight.

As soon as you are seated, the sommelier comes over. “Good evening.” He smiles charmingly. “May I interest you in our vast selection of reds?” He asks, aware that this reservation includes a vampire who would be wanting a glass of their blood infused wine. Without even looking at you, Max shakes his head. “No thank you.” He hums. “My soulmate and I do not drink.” Even if you had said you are okay with it, Max is aware that anything resembling alcohol could stress you and that’s the last thing he wants tonight.

"Max." His hand is on the table and you put yours on top of it, giving it a squeeze like you did in the car. "It's okay. I promise." What he needs to sustain him and what you need are two vastly different things, and you are not going to be the reason that he skips having blood with this meal and ends up...weak or sick or whatever happens to vampires when they don't get enough blood.

He shakes his head seriously. “I was an asshole at the beginning about it.” He admits. “I didn’t know and there are are options here, just like Mrs. Taylor’s menus for us.”

“…very sweet of you.” Only the end of the sentence is really audible, mostly because you’re so dumbfounded by the idea that he is putting you before and above himself. In your whole life, maybe only your parents have ever done that for you.

The sommelier just gives a confused smile and nods, drifting away from the table. “I didn’t embarrass you, did I?” Max asks, frowning at the shock on your face. He had hoped you would appreciate his gesture, and he wasn’t doing it to show off, he genuinely wanted you to feel comfortable tonight with him.

“Not at all.” The slightly misty look on your face is from how touched you are at the gesture. “I just…you know I’m not used to anyone doing things for me. Emotionally, I mean. Or any other way. I still feel like apologizing every time Mrs. Taylor makes a meal or Renee makes clean clothes magically appear in my room. But you…” With a soft sigh and shake of your head, you offer him a smile. One where you actually manage to look him in the eyes. “I always thought I would be the one taking care of my soulmate with whatever he needed. But you’re the one taking care of me.”

He wants to chuckle, but he can’t. Now when your eyes practically hypnotize him. He’s never felt a pull like that and he shakes his head slowly. “We take care of each other.” He reminds you, “head scratches?”

“Are you asking or reminding?” Either way, the smile on your face gets broader and you can feel that growing familiar feeling of warmth in your cheeks.

“Reminding you.” He grins back at you and winks. “It’s probably the most relaxed I’ve ever gotten as a vampire.”

“Then we’ll have to make it a regular thing.” You can promise him that. The seemingly little promises mean so much when they all stack up together.

“That would be nice, but only if you enjoy it as well.” He knows that you might just agree to keep him happy and that’s the last thing he wants.

"Do I enjoy sitting with my soulmate's head in my lap, seeing him terribly relaxed while I read a book or we watch tv together?" This time when you laugh it's just one huffed chuckle, and it's in near disbelief. "Honestly? It might be the closest to bliss I've been in years."

He smiles at that, squeezing your hand again. “Good.” He hums, nodding towards your menu. “Take a look and see what you want to eat, Queenie, we have dancing later on.”

You don't even have to ask to know that he'll be ordering steak tonight, and as rare as possible. The habit makes perfect sense to you now and you'll never say another word about it. The menu is high-end gourmet and apparently all locally sourced from the list of farms on the bottom of the menu, and for a moment you feel tremendously out of place again until you glance up to find Max smiling at you. And that one little act, that seemingly coincidental timing and easy gesture, has another layer of anxiety and fear slipping away from your heart as easily as water drips down a window. "I've discovered I like duck," you confide after a few minutes of looking over the options. "I had never had it before, but Mrs. Taylor is a miracle worker. Do you think theirs will be as good as hers?"

“Doubtful.” He snorts, shaking his head. “Not unless Mrs. Taylor is moonlighting as the chef here.” He jokes. “She has been to practically every chef’s school in the world in her lifetime.”

“She should be teaching at them. Or opening one of her own.” You know, though, that she would never be as happy teaching as she is taking care of people. It’s a lovely thought, though.

“Never happen.” He promises. “Mrs. Taylor is vowed, willingly—” he adds because he knows you might think otherwise. “— to serve your family line for eternity.”

“She’ll be free to do whatever she wants soon enough, then,” you remind him gently. “We’re not exactly going to be populating that house with little half-vamps.”

“Except you can have an absurdly long life, even as a human.” He points out, sure you haven’t even thought about it.

“I—” Technically, he’s correct. You could have as long a life as Cookie did or even longer. But you can’t even fathom that he would want to spend months or years with you, let along decades or centuries. “That is…something we’ll talk about together. You and I.”

“Okay.” He won’t push, it’s just the first date, after all. Instead of continuing on the same vein, he looks around the tavern. “So, who do you think is a vampire?” He asks playfully.

“Hmmm.” A game is definitely something you can get behind, and you look around the crowded dining room full of well dressed patrons with the air of someone who knows exactly what they’re looking for instead of just being the clueless little human that you are. “I’m going to say…” your eyes fall on an impeccably well-dressed man in an elaborate suit and his pale dinner companion in her lace dress. “Those two. Aaand…the table of four over by the fireplace. I think the girl is introducing her new beau to her sires.”

Max lifts a brow, impressed by the fact that you have clock that correctly. “Good eyes.” He chuckles. “The two are, she’s a baby vamp, too.”

“It turns out that once I realized I was surrounded by vamps, it got easier to see the differences.” There is also a particular, peculiar way that they hold themselves — that all vampires seem to hold themselves. As if they have innumerable secrets. And the older they are, the more secrets they accumulate. Which, you suppose, must be true after a point.

“Really?” That makes him sit up slightly. “What differences?”

“I don’t know if I can describe it properly.” For a moment you pause, when the waiter arrives to bring you both water and ask if you’d like an appetizer. Max orders the specialty charcuterie board and you have to imagine that there are raw things involved for him as well as the regular cheeses and spreads for humans. “It’s like…your shoulders are always a little straighter. Your gaze is more direct. And there’s something…I dunno…elegant? Maybe? In the way you all move. Like it takes so much less effort or you’ve maximized the economy of all of those movements somehow. I can’t describe it properly.”

He smirks slightly and leans in. “We are elegant?” He asks, intrigued by the fact that you are not scared. Perhaps even enjoying that he is a vampire.

“Of course you are elegant, but I didn’t notice until after that you all sort of…have a certain grace.” Shrugging self-consciously, you do notice that he doesn’t let your hand slip away from his on the table. “It probably sounds funny,” you murmur in defeat.

“It doesn’t. It’s actually— I think it might be the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” He confesses. “People always say ‘you’re hot’ or ‘I want you’ but no one ever tells me I’m elegant.”

“You are hot.” The admission comes with screaming hot cheeks and eyes trained back down at the table, but it’s true. “I thought so the first time I saw you…”

There’s a hint of heat in his smirk, not nearly as play—boyish as it might have once been. “Glad you thought I was hot.” He hums proudly. “Sexual attraction is key to a healthy romantic relationship.”

“And you’ll always look that way.” It’s not a fun thought to have, but you’ve had it twice already. He will always be young and handsome, and you will inevitably get old — even if you choose long life it will still happen eventually.

He snorts. “We age just not as fast as humans do.” He admits.

“So slowly that it’s imperceptible?” It’s a guess, but you nod your head in understanding. “I’ll get everything down eventually, I promise. This is all still…just days’ old information to me.”

“I don’t expect you to be an expert, sweetheart.” Max tuts. “Hell, I’m still learning about vampires.” He flashes you a grin. “And I’ve been one a lot longer than days.”

"What do you like about it?" You ask, looking at your connected hands before you look back up at him. "There must be something you like about the change."

“Smell is better, hearing is better.” Max shrugs slightly. “I’m a better version of myself.” He snort slightly. “The no need for sleep helped when getting my MBA.”

“It certainly gives you more time to get things done.” Thinking on it for even a second though, you laugh a little. “If I had had that in college I think I would’ve done twice as many competitions and probably added a second major, just because I could.”

He chuckles and winks at you, “That’s my girl.” He hums fondly, not even thinking about it until it comes out of his mouth, but you are his girl.

Finding it fond instead of possessive — as the comment would have been from the last person who might have bothered to call you such a thing — hearing it from Max actually makes you proud. Maybe neither of you is perfect, but you seem to fit together in all the right ways. Maybe that's all that soulmates are, ultimately. Just two people — or in this case a witch and a vampire — who fit together just right.

The meal is ordered and it’s a delightful surprise that there’s no lull in the conversation. Beyond ballroom dancing, at your core, your values match up. At least, Max’s values now, after the incident with Evan. Shockingly enough, he tells you about it.

"I can't believe that's even possible." The ordeal with his former friend, roommate, and coworker aside, the way Max describes what was basically his return from complete obliteration is just wild. "It sounds like...like magic...if I'm honest. Your sire managed to bring you back from...nothing." From his description, he was less than a undead body at that point. Something terrifying to imagine and terrible to contemplate. The idea that your soulmate could have been completely lost to you isn't exactly knew considering you thought it was dead, but knowing the truth makes it feel even more terrible. "If I ever meet your sire, I'm going to have to thank him."

“I have no doubt you will.” Max wonders when the old man will reveal himself to you. What his end game is. He always had one, that’s certain. “I am starting to figure out why I was brought back.”

"You think he had an ulterior motive?" You would think it would be enough just to be able to save his family, but you don't really know how loyal vampiric families are to each other.

“Absolutely.” His answer is instantaneous. Resolute. While he doesn’t know the details of why he was brought back, he had been for one reason.

"You're very certain of that." Which does, you admit, surprise you. "I take it he's not a sharing kind of guy? He didn't clue you in on why?"

“My sire is…an enigma.” Max admits, almost fondly. He has often been envious of the elder vampire’s flair and mystique. “He is legendary among vampires and I’m not so certain he doesn’t divulge information because it is his nature or as a way to play into his reputation.”

"Maybe it's both?" The two of you are still sitting at the table with intertwined hands even after your demolished appetizer has been cleared away. It's so unexpectedly sweet that it makes you feel a little bit...gooey. Like you might melt right into your plush upholstered seat. "Maybe the reputation came because he has a little flair for the dramatic, and now he just likes to play into it and keep it going? You said he's quite old now, right? Maybe it amuses him."

“Yes. That is probably a lot of it.” He agrees. “You will like him I think.”

"Are you saying I have a flair for the dramatic?" Raising one eyebrow and shooting him a grin, you can't help but smile along with him. You did, once, have a wicked dramatic side. Inherited from your mother and dearly cherished. It was an endless source of amusement.

“You ballroom dance and you love reality tv shows.” He snorts playfully. “Of course you have a flair for the dramatic. I can’t wait to see you show out at the masquerade.”

"If you think I'm bad with Dancing with the Stars, wait until you see me on a 90 Day Fiancé binge." That really only happens when you hit your cycle, but it's still a sight to see — you tucked up in your bed under three blankets with a bowl of popcorn and a box of tissues crying about love is just...a side of you that you normally keep hidden. But somehow you have a feeling that Max would understand.

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite couple?” Max asks curiously. “I like Angela and Mike, but sometimes she’s toooo much, you know what I mean?” He spends a lot of nights binge watching things, since it’s not like he sleeps and unfortunately, not many human businessmen work after midnight.

The way you just stare at him is nearly comical, like your brain hasn’t quite caught up with you yet, and when it finally goes you realize your mouth has been open and you snap it shut like the little boy from Mary Poppins. “I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised,” you huff, laughing softly at your own reaction. “We should have things in comments. Soulmates and all that…”

“Babe, I’m also a little dramatic shit.” He confesses with a chuckle. “I mean, who really changes into a bat to spend time with someone because your over-the-top douchbaggery has made them uncomfortable, but you’re intrigued by them?” He asks, making it seem like he is the total asshole he believes he is.

“That’s…pretty true.” And it draws another laugh from you just imagining the thought process he went through to even think of doing it in the first place. “I have to admit, though. It made me feel like the missing goth Disney Princess and I kind of loved that.”

“I’m happy to make that secret fantasy come true.” He grins, nearly beaming proudly at the idea of sparking some inner desire. “And as a bat, I can actually sleep?”

“Compacting a big vampire into a tiny bat body must take a lot of effort.” Or, at least, you imagine it does. It’s more or less breaking the known laws of physics, after all.

“It does.” Max admits with a slight shrug. He will minimize the idea of the energy it expels because he doesn’t want you to ever feel bad for wanting the bat to cuddle.

“Well, you only need to worry about all that energy when you want to, now,” you insist, being respectfully nonspecific because you can see the waiter approaching your table with your dinners. “You never need to be anything besides yourself with me.”

“I appreciate that.” He wonders if you are so accepting and accommodating because of the past relationship or if it was just you. “I hope you’re hungry, this place is supposed to have amazing food.”

It would be cheesy or clingy or just too much to tell him that you’re actually disappointed the food is here because you have to stop holding his hand. You sit back though, politely thanking the waiter and letting your mouth water over how good everything looks and smells when your plates are set down. “Thank you for this,” you murmur when the waiter has gone again, looking tentatively back toward Max’s face. “We didn’t have to do anything at all and knowing you’re my soulmate would have already made the time we spend together special. But this is…it’s really beautiful. And I’ll never forget it.”

“We haven’t even gotten to the best part of the night.” He promises with a small wink. “Before I’m through with you, your body will be sore and you’ll be breathless.” It sounds dirty, but he’s talking about dancing.

“Max.” Your cheeks burn at the innuendo but you can’t even pretend to dislike the feeling. For the first time in…maybe years, you’re free to let yourself enjoy life. And that’s all thanks to him. Let night really might be the first time you’ve considered masturbating in longer than you would like to admit. And that is thanks to Max, too.

“What?” He tuts playfully, fully aware that your heartbeat has sped up. “Dancing should make you sore and breathless if you’re doing it right.”

“Sure.” But the thought is there, and the playful, bubbly, flirtatious woman that you used to be a long time ago floats the surface unchecked. “Dancing definitely does that,” you agree, tucking a smirk into the corner of your mouth.

“So many dances.” He likes that you are flirting back. Your eyes are practically sparkling with mischief and it’s miles apart from the scared mouse he had met when you arrived. “Tango, waltz, horizontal hustle, foxtrot.” He ticks them off on his fingers like he’s doing down a list.

The mention of horizontal hustle warms you through with a flush of embarrassment and — admittedly — arousal and you pick up your fork very properly without the smirk ever leaving your face. “The girls I danced with always called it ‘getting a new tango partner’ when they started seeing someone new. Slightly more discreet of them, considering our teachers were mostly prim middle-aged ladies.”

He hums, amused by the phrase and he runs his tongue over his teeth, toying with his incisor. “It’s allllll in the hips.”

It shouldn’t be sexy, the way you know for a fact that his teeth are certified weapons and he is just casually running his tongue over them…it makes you wonder just what his tongue might feel like running over other things. “Hips,” you hum, watching him lick his lips subtly. You can’t tell if he did it on purpose or not but it’s distracting as all hell. “I’ll remember that.”

“You do that, Queenie.” He winks at you and scoops up his fork to steal a bite of your food from your plate. He’s not going to eat it. God no, it’s too cooked for his liking, but he turns the fork around and offers you the bite. “Tell me how it tastes.” Despite not liking human food now, he misses the tastes of things.

He can absolutely hear your pulse, there’s no way he can’t when it’s pounding in your ears like a hammer. But putting your lips around his fork is perilously close to put your lips around something else of his and you close your eyes against just how tantalizing that thought is when you’re seemingly getting your sex drive back all at once.

He bites his lip when you moan, taking the bite of food. Sure that you are completely unaware of how erotic it sounds. Knowing that you aren’t trying to entice him, but just like that natural curiosity to know more about you, that attraction is something he’s helpless against. All he can do is control his reaction.

“I know you’re not big on this kind of food anymore, but that’s fantastic.” You tell him, letting the flavour linger on your tastebuds happily. Truly good food is such a luxury that you have a hard time imagining giving it up, but that’s just you.

“I used to love all kinds of food.” Max admits with a guilty grin. “Favorite thing was trying new restaurants. New foods.”

“I hate that that isn’t fun for you anymore.” To lose one of life’s simple pleasures is a shame, even if the tradeoff has many more benefits.

“It’s okay.” Max hums slightly. “I can taste what the human donor has eaten through their blood.” He admits with a grin. “Although it’s a little muted since the blood is chilled and reheated.”

“So…if it was warm from the source…it would be better?” Trying to understand the logistics of his vampirism is going to be key for you, and that means even the parts that don’t seem very savory to talk about.

“Yeah.” He shrugs slightly. “I don’t look for donors anymore.” He explains. “If someone were to offer? I might would have taken them up on it before the other night, but I wouldn’t now.”

“Is it…” As the two of you start to eat in earnest, it almost feels like the conversation should have trended this way. You are, after all, talking about his survival. “Is it a very…meaningful connection? Is that why?”

“It’s….” He pauses for a moment. “Intimate. Almost sensual to the point of turning sexual.” He looks at you intently, his eyes drilling into yours and he hopes that doesn’t offend you. “There’s nothing more intimate than taking a part of someone into your own body, right?”

“I suppose I never thought of it like that before.” Before a few days ago you had honestly never given it much thought at all, but knowing what you know now? You spend almost all of your thoughts on the subject.

“It doesn’t hurt much.” He promises, thinking you might be worried about donors. “Just a sharp pinch and then it feels good. But I won’t be drinking from anyone, I think that’s not fair when you have a soulmate.”

“It’s really that intimate?” From what he’s said, it suddenly makes much more sense to you why people would succumb to the feeling quickly, and you nod when he looks at you meaningfully. “If it’s something I’m ever going to consider, I want to know about it,” you explain. “That’s all.”

“I would never ask.” He doesn’t want you to feel like he expecting you to become his meal plan. “I hope you know that.”

******

Dinner passes with slightly lighter conversation, where you learn that you both like fall and winter better than spring and summer, and that Max used to love cookies more than anything other dessert.

The dance studio that you go to is run by a very sweet woman called Miss Valerie — who apparently named the studio for herself — and is full of all sorts of different people when you and Max are ushered into the main studio for free dancing. A laptop in the corner is playing a personalized playlist and there is a card table with drinks and snacks in a different corner which looked like some people had added to upon their arrivals. It was a night of chit chat — as soon as people heard about the masquerade they instantly wanted to know every detail — but it was fun, too. Max stayed by your side, talking up the masquerade and excusing you from conversation to dance a little more when he sensed you getting nervous.

Dancing with Max might be even better now that you know he’s your soul mate. His gentleness and steady presence leading you through every dance is mixed with so much care that you could just about cry, but there is a mounting otherness in every touch that can only be compared to the first time you allowed yourself to explore any kind of sexuality. Like you’re waking up, and instead of curiosity being what drives your own fingers in the night, it will be the memory of hearing Max’s voice in your ear or feeling his touch on your skin. He had even lifted you a few times in certain dances and it was the most literal sweeping off your feet you could ever possibly contemplate. By the time he pulls into the driveway it’s so late that you’ve lost track of the hour completely but you know you’re going to keep holding his hand until the very last second.

“I think I’ve kept Cinderella out past midnight.” Max teases as he cuts the engine. “But lucky me, you haven’t turned into a pumpkin yet.”

“No.” There’s a note of bashfulness in the way you shake your head, even though you feel bolder tonight than you have in years. “I wouldn’t dare. How could I dance with you again if I was a pumpkin?”

He grins, his teeth flashing white in the darkness of the car. “That would be such a shame, Queenie.”

“It really would be.” Dancing with Max had been like floating on water, and your face burns with pleasure and embarrassment remembering even half an hour ago.

“Would you like to keep dancing?” He asks, bringing your hand to his lips. Anyone else, it would be an innuendo for something else, but with you, he’s asking if you want him to take you to the ballroom. He had loved every second of you being in his arms and of dancing was the only way, he would dance all night.

“Am I a sissy if I admit I’m tired?” Still, your fingers tingle under the press of his lips, and knowing what you now do about his exceptional hearing means you’re sure he heard you hold your breath. “I haven’t danced that much in years and my feet aren’t as calloused as they used to be. But—” The thought is there. The intent. But you can’t quite bring yourself to form the words right away. It’s like you don’t trust yourself. Which, to be fair, you don’t.

“Not a sissy,” he huffs slightly at your ease of insulting yourself. “Human.” He reminds you that he might have the ability to stay up indefinitely, but you do not. “But?”

“I was…” It feels silly to admit it, but you would be horribly sad if the night ended here. Having him close feels like a missing piece of yourself has slid into place. “Going to ask if you wanted to come upstairs,” you admit quietly. “But that’s silly. You live here. Hell…your room is right next to mine.”

Max tilts his head, tsking slightly. “Queenie, you never need to feel silly talking to me. You meant come to your room, didn’t you?” He asks quietly, squeezing your hand gently.

“I don’t want tonight to be over yet.” His hand around yours is cool and comforting, but there’s an electricity in it that is so old that it must have been called something far different before it was called a spark.

“It doesn’t have to be.” Max smiles at the shyness in your tone, the mere embarrassment. “How about this? Why don’t I make you a cup of my famous hot chocolate while you change into something causal, and I’ll meet you upstairs?” He asks, lifting a brow.

His knack for the exact right gesture is something you’re learning isn’t accidental. The effort he is putting into spending time with you is very intentional, and makes you feel like the single most special person in the entire world. “I’ll find a book that is less than a hundred years old, just in case. How about that?”

“Whatever you want to read, sweetheart.” He promises, happy that he had phrased it correctly. He doesn’t want you thinking he assumes you’re going to sleep with him. “But first, I need to walk you to the door.” In the blink of an eye, he’s out of the car and around to your side, opening it up for you to climb out.

“I’ll never get used to that.” You’ve seen him do it now five or six times and it takes your breath away without fail. This time, though, the thing taking your breath might also be the soft smile on his face as you put your hand in his and let him lift you effortlessly out of the car.

“It’s handy.” He admits with a chuckle, closing the door behind you and turning to walk up the front steps. “I’ll be able to change into some sweats after making your hot chocolate too.”

“Does this count as post-gaming our own date?” Leaving his car behind to walk up to the house, your hand stays in his and you lean slightly into his side just on instinct. He feels so safe and you can’t possibly put into words how grateful you are for that.

“More like a casual continuation. The wind down, if you will.” He enjoys your warmth, humming softly at the feeling. You have seemed more comfortable around him as the night has gone on and Max deserve brownie points for ignoring the whiffs of arousal he’s detected.

"I like that." You also like the way he almost sounds like he's purring when he hums, but maybe that's your imagination. Remembering the little sounds he would make in bat form. "I like the idea of being able to share all the versions of ourselves."

Max opens the door to the house, hearing a sound from Eddie’s room that makes him smirk. “If you can’t share everything with your soulmate, who can you share them with?”

"What is it?" His question was rhetorical, you know that, but he looks amused and his eyes darted away from you for a second before coming back.

“Allison is still here.” He tells you, putting his finger to his lips like it’s a secret.

"And she claimed Eddie wasn't as interested as she is." You shake your head at that as if the two of you were some wise old mentors finding out your protégés had finally taken your advice. "I guess tonight was a good date night for everyone in the house, then."

Max winks at you as he closes the door behind the two of you. “Like to think ours was better.” He teases. “Now, go take those shoes off, Queenie and I’ll make your hot chocolate. If you’re lucky, I might even be talked into a foot rub for your dance sore feet.”

"I would never make you do that." More than half your life in ballet, ballroom, and jazz classes means that your feet are...not exactly going to end up in shoe ads any time soon. But it's sweet of him to offer, and you squeeze his hand before you let it go. "I'm going to go up and change. You can just come on in when you're ready."

“I’ll knock, just to make sure you aren’t still changing.” He promises with a wink before he zips off to the kitchen.

You deftly avoid Eddie's room as you go upstairs, going the long way to your room all the way across the house before you hang your sweater and release yourself from your shoes — much to the relief of your aching feet. Despite the small pain, though, you wouldn't change anything about tonight. Your dress is exchanged for a favourite t-shirt, worn thin from constant use and sporting the logo of a theme park that you went to with a bunch of friends in college when you all decided that you just needed to get away for the weekend. It hangs long on your torso, skimming past the edge of your yoga pants, and you wipe off your makeup before getting into bed with a copy of a murder mystery by Alyssa Maxwell that was most definitely published in the twenty-first century.

Max hears you settle down and is at your door in an instant. He had made the hot chocolate quickly and of course changed before you had finished your nightly routine, waiting until you were done. Two light taps on the door is the knock he gives, waiting for you to answer before he turns the knob.

"Come in." The door is just feet from your bed, and when he cracks it open he's dressed in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants with a steaming mug in his hands. "Hey." As soft as it is on your lips, it's mostly out of surprise. Max is always immaculately dressed, and the revelation that he even owns a t-shirt is a pretty big deal. Not to mention the way his broad shoulders stretch the faric, or the way his gray sweatpants (bearing a small embossed collegiate logo near the pocket) hang onto his trim hips, which is wickedly distracting.

“Hey you.” He slips inside and closes the door with a grin. “You look comfy as can be in that bed.” He teases. “Is there room for me?”

"It's a big bed." Knowing that he won't pressure you gives you an immense feeling of relief, and the boldness to actually invite him in like this. You haven't even kissed yet. There is no way you would go all the way to sex tonight. But this closeness? You're craving it. "I'm pretty sure I can fit you in here. Might have to cuddle, though."

“I’ve been told I’m pretty good at cuddling.” He hands you the mug of hot chocolate and barely resists the urge to jump into the bed.

“I’m going to be spoiled forever if you keep making me this cocoa,” you warn him, ready to take the first sip despite the steam still pouring off the mug from underneath the perfect swirl of whipped cream. “That coffeeshop should be crying over losing you, if this is what you were doing as a barista.”

“I learned that girls love a perfect hot chocolate, but also, I loved one.” He laughs as he settles down beside you. “I’ll make you one every night if you want. I actually kind of miss making coffees and things like that. It was fun and easy.”

"I would have been in that shop every single day," you admit. The first sip of cocoa is just cool enough to take, and it rolls through you like a warm hug in the very best way. "For..." Bubbling just beneath the surface, a smile spreads across your lips that you just can't contain. "For more than just the cocoa."

“I knew it.” He crows, leaning in with a triumphant look on his face. He puts his lips just a bare millimeter away from your ear. “A whipped cream junky.”

Your breath catches like it always does when he gets so close to you, and your eyes flick up to his as you all but hide your face behind the mug in your hands. "Right..." you nod slightly in agreement, but when the smile returns to your lips it morphs into shaking your head 'no' and your tone dips to teasing. "Whipped cream. That's it."

“Indulgent, creamy….” He’s teasing you, maybe himself a little as well, but he loves the way your heart skitters slightly. It reminds him of a bird being startled, except this is a joyful thing. “Satisfying. What’s not to love?”

"You're incorrigible," you observe with a pleased grin, knowing full well that you have done nothing but encourage him tonight. It's the best night — let alone best date — you've had in ages. And that's so much of why you're not ready for it to end. This is the side of Max that you always want to have with you.

“Confident.” He corrects you with a grin of his own. “Cocky, maybe even a little conceited.”

"Filling in the gaps where I have no self-confidence of my own." In many ways you really are a balancing point to each other. He lifts you up and you ground him. It keeps you interested to see what he'll do next and you can only hope that it gives him a place to feel relaxed with you. Like he can let down his guard with you. "I think...if you want to...we should go back to that studio again next week." They had invited you both eagerly, and Miss Valerie herself had loudly mentioned having a spot on their competition team for another couple if they ever found anyone who was interested. If you were ever going to pin a number onto your dress again, you would want it to be with him. His over-confidence seems to be rubbing off on you, at least a little, and giving you another nudge toward boldness. "I really loved dancing with you tonight."

“It would be unfair really,” Max hums. “To deprive them of our presence. Our talent from the dance floor.” Part of it is an adopted act of confidence, but there is something magical about dancing with you. It’s easier than any other partner he’s ever had. “So I don’t think we should. Deprive them. Give the couples something to aspire to.”

The giggle that he pulls out of you is probably the closest to effervescent that you've ever managed. There is something about the way you feel when his attention is on you that is undeniable. When Max's focus is on you, the rest of the world falls away. "I wouldn't be surprised if it's more jealousy than aspiration," you tell him honestly, taking another sip of your drink. "I'll have the most handsome partner in the room."

He can’t help but preen slightly. “It helps when your partner is the most gorgeous creature you’ve ever laid eyes on.” He murmurs sincerely. Since meeting you, getting to know you, you’ve gone from pretty to stunning in his eyes.

"That's sweet of you." As much as you want to believe that he's telling you what he believes to be the truth, it's so hard to wrap your head around. There has been far too much of your life spent being told all the things that were wrong with you that it feels impossible to believe that someone like Max could find you beautiful. But gods...you want to.

He groans quietly, closing his eyes and dropping his forehead to your shoulder. He should pull away, but your warmth is too intoxicating. “Queenie, I have a confession to make.” He whispers.

Here it is. Steeling yourself for the inevitable rejection you know that you deserve, you put your mug on the table beside your bed without unsettling his forehead. You'll make yourself the smallest presence possible in his life. You'll stop the formal dinners and just let him forget you even live in the same house if he doesn't decide to move out altogether. And you'll sure as fuck wait until he's gone to cry the tears that are already pressing at the back of your eyes. "What is it?" You don't want to ask the question, but you have to. The way your heart is already sinking tells you right away how much this is going to hurt.

He hates that your tone has changed, your body has shifted slightly. He wonders if he should have even opened his mouth, but he wanted to be honest with you. Pulling back slightly, he looks at you with a sense of anger at himself for being so unable to control himself. “I want to kiss you.”

"What?" Pushed out on a single breath, it feels like all the air has been knocked out of you all at once and your eyes blow wide when you look up at him.

“I told myself I wouldn’t push you, and I’m not.” He promises quickly. “I would never push you for anything you aren’t ready for, but I can’t help but think about it and if you want me to leave or move to the chair so I don’t make you uncomfortable, I will.”

"Please don't." Immediately reaching for him, your hand lands on his arm and your fingers squeeze, keeping him close even when you feel like your heart is going to pound out of your chest and you might forget how to breathe. "Don't like don't move away from me. Not don't like don't kiss me. I—" You might vibrate straight out of the bed in disbelief. "I really want to kiss you, too."

“You do?” Despite flirting, Max hadn’t considered that you might actually want to kiss him.

"I was getting ready for you to tell me that you wanted to end this before it started." Which feels terrible to admit, but you want to be honest with him. "Honestly, I...sort of figured you would have been able to...to smell how much I want to kiss you?"

Biting his lip, he considers lying to you, but he nods. “Just because you’re body is telling me yes, doesn’t mean your mind is.” He murmurs quietly, laying a hand on your arm and rubbing it gently. “I was a fucking horndog in the past, but I know boundaries.”

"I don't know how much else I'm ready for." Your hand covers his on your arm long enough to feel the difference between your burning skin and his cooler body, before your hand moves tentatively up his arm. Being allowed to touch him while you're dancing is so very different from touching him in your bed. "But I know I'm ready for this."

Max slides an arm under your body to pull you closer, shifting slightly so both of you are laying on your sides facing each other. “Queenie,” he leans in and nudges his nose against yours, eyes watching you closely. “May I kiss you?”

"Yes. Please." As far as enthusiastic consent goes, you really can't be more explicit and you don't want to just jump the gun and kiss him without answering. Lying in his arms in your bed is the last place you expected this to happen, but now that you're here it's like a dream.

He licks his lips, wetting them as his eyes flicker down to yours. Somewhere between your first sip and now, your cocoa has been pushed onto the nightstand and he can hold you without fear of spilling something hot all over you. “Good.” He murmurs, leaning in to take in your scent, mouthwatering and thick like ambrosia, before he lowers his mouth to yours.

______

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My Masterlist!

[iboatedhere]

oooo 13 on the june list as an au, i’ve always wanted to see that ☺️

“What do you think of this one? Better or worse than the last?”

Pez looks up from where he’s painting his nails and narrows his eyes. “I’m not sure I can spot the difference.”

“The tie,” Henry tells him, gesturing to the piece of silk around his neck. “It’s a wildly different color from the last one I showed you.”

“Aren’t they both gray?”

“The one before was charcoal. This one is slate. Which one do you prefer?”

“Neither,” Pez says as he holds up his hands and blows on his nails. “I can’t for the life of me figure out why you’re wearing a suit to a pride parade.”

“I’d like to look good.”

“Darling, you’re six foot with the face and body of a Greek god. You could show up in a burlap sack and still turn heads.”

“I have nothing else to wear.”

“You could always wear something of mine.” 

“That’s very kind of you, I think just the one scandal is enough,” Henry tells him. “I’ll likely send my Gran to an early grave just by being here.”

“Fingers crossed,” Pez says under his breath as he starts on his other hand. “You’re certain about this?”

“I have to do it sometime, don’t I?”

Pez looks up with a slow blink. “No. You have the right to come out when and if you’re ready. There’s no pressure or expectations. Anyone who tells you otherwise is simply a miserable human being.”

“I want to do this.”

“And I respect that,” Pez tells him, “but are you certain you want to do it like this? I’m afraid you won’t be able to take this back.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it? They won't be able to sweep this under the rug. I won’t let them hide me away any longer. I can’t go on another date with a designated daughter of nobility because they need me to be seen with a woman. I don’t have it in me. It needs to be now, and it needs to be loud.” 

“And it needs to be without them knowing.”

“If I asked, they’d say no.”

“Better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission.”

“I won’t be begging.”

Pez’s eyes light up. “I love it, and I’m behind you one hundred and sixty-nine percent. But please, Haz, for the love of all that is gay and holy, change out of that suit.”

–

“I’m just saying, I don’t know why my world has to stop for a fucking publicity stunt.”

“You’re just bitching,” Nora says with a smile as she hands a bottle of water to an older woman wrapped in a trans flag, “and I think it’s nice.”

“You think it’s nice that the Prince of England is coming here to steal all the attention from causes and programs that really matter because he wants to be seen as a good ally.”

“I think it’s nice that Percy’s friend, who is also a very generous donor to the shelter–.”

“Performative,” Alex interrupts. 

“--has flown all the way across the ocean—.”

“On a private jet.”

“--to raise awareness and more funding for our programs.”

Alex glares at her, his foot tapping against the pavement. “He’s an entitled douchebag.”

“Oh, whatever,” Nora says, “you’re only upset because you want to fuck him.”

“What! That’s not—I would never,” Alex stutters. 

“Seventy-six percent chance you only took the job because you knew Prince Henry was Pez’s best friend, and you thought that was your in.”

“You are way off base. I started working for the Okonjo Foundation because Percy Okonjo is a world-renowned philanthropist, and I wanted to better myself as a person after helping rich assholes get even richer. It’s making all those years I spent in law school worth it. It has nothing to do with Prince Henry. I’m offended you’d think that. Plus, he’s totally not my type.”

“Right, of course. Who would ever want someone tall and gorgeous with an Oxford degree.”

“Don’t be elitist.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“I’m a dick just because I’m not attracted to the Prince of Eng—.”

Alex cuts himself off as the seas part for Percy, dressed in a rainbow ombré linen shirt and short set, pink sunglasses, and a watercolor crossbody bag. He looks incredible, as always, but Alex is dumbstruck by Prince Henry in a white polo with rainbow stitching around the sleeves and collar and the tightest pair of jeans Alex has ever seen. 

They’re flanked by several men in dark suits, security if Alex had to guess, and the closer they get, the more heads turn. 

This is what Alex didn’t want; all the attention focused on a straight white guy with unending privilege but fuck, he can’t deny the Prince’s thighs look amazing in those jeans. 

“Miss Holleran,” Pez says, swooping in to kiss Nora on the cheek. “Looking lovely as ever. And Alex, it's so good to see you again. I’d like to introduce both of you to my best and oldest mate, Henry.”

“It’s very nice to meet the both of you,” Prince Henry says. “I’ve heard only wonderful things about you both and your work at the shelter. It’s truly admirable.”

“Admirable,” Nora repeats, knocking her shoulder into Alex’s. “Isn’t that nice of the Prince to say?”

Alex, whose brain is still offline, nods. “Yup.”

Nora rolls her eyes while Pez hums. “Wonderful,” he says before he holds his arm out to Nora. “Shall we make the rounds and leave the boys to chat?”

Nora links her arm through his before Alex can say anything, and then it’s just him and Prince Henry (and three of his bodyguards) beneath the shade of the shelter's information tent. 

“So,” Alex says slowly because he has no idea how to start a conversation with royalty. “What brings you to Brooklyn? I’m sure London has its own event.”

“It does, but Pez is here, and I wanted to put some distance between me and my gran. This isn’t what I would call an official royal appearance.”

“Snuck out of the palace to be here?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, it’s good that you’re here, I guess. It’s always nice when celebrities are visible allies.” 

“Oh,” Henry says. “Well. I’m a bit more than that.” He clears his throat and glances at the crowd around them, all pretending not to look while half of them are not-so-stealthily recording with their phones. Henry turns his body toward Alex. “You see….I’m gay.”

Alex is suddenly no better than the gaping onlookers as he stares Henry down. 

“What?”

Henry heaves a sigh. “I’m—.”

“No, no, I heard you,” Alex says, “I just…what?”

“I’m not out—.”

“Obviously.”

“—yet,” Henry continues. “But that’s why I’m here. I wanted to do it here, now, someplace public and safe, where my grandmother couldn’t sweep it under the rug. I can’t go back to London and be set up on another date with a woman for show. I’m afraid I won’t last much longer.”

“Wow,” Alex says. “That’s….”

“Mad?” Henry offers. 

“Brave,” Alex corrects. “Really, really brave. When I came out to my sister, I whispered it to her, and we were in her kitchen. Alone. And she’s also bi.”

“There’s no wrong way to come out.”

“Did Pez tell you that?”

Henry nods. “I just don’t know how exactly to do it. I’m not one for speeches, and any post I make on social media will be immediately deleted.”

“You could let other people do it for you,” Alex says as he nods to the crowd. “They can’t take down all of their posts.”

“True. But what would I do?”

Alex shrugs. “Just grab a guy and kiss him—with his consent, of course.”

“Just a random guy?”

“He doesn’t have to be random,” Alex says, taking a half step toward Henry and shooting his shot like he’s never shot it before. 

Henry, with his Oxford education, catches on quickly and raises a hand to Alex’s cheek. 

“You’re going to help send the monarchy into a tailspin,” Henry tells him, and Alex grins. 

“It's what I was born to do, sweetheart,” Alex says before leaning in. 

[atinyjules]

Broken Melodies : Fake or True ft. Lee Jeno {ch-4}

A/n: Welcome to chapter 4! For those who reached this far I thank you guys for supporting this series!

So here it iss ✨

The use of coloured fonts is to portray their telepathic conversations. Pink for Eunbi and Blue for Jeno

The mini - masterlist for this series can be found here

Jeno's

"No. I can't. I won't." I told dad who sighed and removed his glasses.

"Jeno, your whole life I've let you do whatever you wanted and gave you whatever you asked for. Please just do this favour for me. Just this once." dad pleaded making me look at him in panic.

Why do you look so...sad?

"I'll do it. Just...don't be so sad dad." I said as he looked at me.

"You'll do it?" he asked light coming back into his face as I gave him my best smile, even though it was forced.

"But why all of a sudden?" I asked as he motioned me to sit next to him on the couch.

"All my life, I grew up hating the Na family. I wasted my whole youth trying to kill their leader and so did he. But I never realised that all that time we could've been allies and friends instead of enemies.

But we were too late as our children grew up to hate each other too. I recently met him and we talked not as enemies but as friends. We both have the same wish for peace between our gangs. Both you and his daughter are the beloved treasures of each gang so if the both of you come together, the gangs will too." dad said as clenched my fist under the table.

He's sick...I don't want to upset him further...but then again I did want the rivalry to end.

"Okay. I'll do it." I said making dad smile brightly and pull me in for a hug.

"I knew I could count on you." he said making me soften as I hugged him back.

"Now, let's go! We wouldn't want to be late to meet your beautiful bride would we?" he said making me do a double take.

"Wait...WHAT?"

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Eunbi's

The thought of marrying Jeno, Lee Jeno the dumbass. Oh my gosh, please tell me this is a dream. As I touched up my makeup in the wash room I couldn't help but clench my fist.

"Even if I hate it...the face dad made when I said yes. I haven't seen him this happy ever since..." I trailed as I looked down.

Mom left

I took a deep breath and reapplied my lip gloss and checked my hair before going out to see Lee Jeno and his father I suppose.

As he not informed? Why does he look so shocked?

"There's my Princess. This is my daughter Eunbi." I smiled and greeted Jeno's father who looked at me and smiled brightly.

"What a beautiful daughter you have. Nice to meet you, Eunbi." he said kindly as I smiled.

"Thank you! It's a pleasure to meet you...and you." I trailed when I made eye contact with Jeno.

"Jeno, won't you introduce yourself to Eunbi?" his father encouraged when Jeno sighed.

What the hell is his problem? Many people wish to marry a beauty like me but here I am accepting to marry this douchebag. Can't he at least be happy?

"We already know each other." he trailed looking away when I smiled.

"We dooo~ how did we first meet again?" I pretended to think and smirked internally when his eyes jolted towards me.

"Oh, that's good to hear you're both already acquainted!" dad exclaimed as I smiled and threatened him with my eyes.

'If you don't wan't me to expose the truth, you better fucking behave in front of my dad.' I told him with my eyes.

'The fuck is your deal?" he replied with his eyes.

'Uh uh uhh...wouldn't want daddy to know would we?" I retaliate as he huffs.

"Look at them, already lost in each others eyes." Jeno's father said as me and Jeno were brought back to reality as we awkwardly laughed.

"Don't worry we were just messing with you. We're not monsters who will just let our kids marry each other like that for our own gains." dad says making us furrow our brows and look at him.

"We just need the both of you to act like lovesick fools who are deeply in love with each other to ease the tension and hopefully stop the violence between our gangs." Jeno's dad said making the both of us punch the ain in victory.

"Yes!" we said in unison making both the men laugh.

"Ah, so you two didn't want the marriage." dad said making me widen my eyes.

"Dad, no-" his laugh cut me off.

"It's all good but we just need the both of you to act as realistically in love as you can. You're brothers must never know." Jeno's dad said making me furrow my brows.

"No one except the four of us should find out. I expect this information to only be known by us. It should, under no circumstances be known to anyone else." dad said seriously as the both of us nodded.

After talking for a while we left to retreat to our respective homes for the night.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The next day came in a blink and Eunbi was peacefully having dinner when the roaring sounds of a bike greeted her eardrums.

She let out a sigh and walked towards the balcony of her dining room only for her eyes to bulge out at the sight of Jeno leaning on his bike, his back facing her.

She quickly ran in and took a grape from the fruit bowl making her father chuckle, already knowing why. Eunbi aimed and threw the grape towards the back of his head when his hand swiftly caught it without looking. He popped the grape in his mouth and turned around.

"Hurry up, will you. We don't have time." he just said and turned back around making Eunbi run to her father who was peacefully enjoying his meal.

"What is he doing here dad??" she whisper screamed as her father chuckled.

"He wouldn't be a good boyfriend if he didn't pick you up and drop you off would he?" her father said making her groan as she left to get dressed.

After dressing up she headed out towards Jeno who looked at her and sighed.

"What took you so long?" he complained as she looked around and smacked his head.

"We will continue this at school." she said before taking the extra helmet from his hand and putting it on. She then got on the bike and wrapped her hands around Jeno's waist making him jolt.

"Don't hold my waist." he warned as Eunbi scoffed.

"As if like I want to, I'm only doing this because I don't want to fall off. Now drive." she commanded as he huffed and drove his bike to college.

Before reaching the college they stopped at a secluded area where no one could see them and he drove off. Eunbi couldn't help but sigh as she looked at the black kawasaki and its rider drive away.

"Guess this is my life now." she said with a bored expression as she walked towards the same direction with an exasperated sigh.

Let's see how baby Eunbi and Baby Jeno get through their days as a secret (fake) couple 😩✨

That's it for this chapter 💖✨

You can find Chapter 5 here

Likes and rebloggs are appreciated 💖✨

[cheetahgirlju]

The Mr. Darcy Standard

Every night, my friends and I spend a good amount of time discussing numerous topics. One of our top conversations last night still lingers in my head. The topic of standards. Growing up on romantic movies like Pride and Prejudice has lifted the bar. Men don’t act like they did in the early 2000s films. They don't chase you around New York begging for your attention. They don't fall in love with you so hard that they have to outburst their feelings in the rain because their love has become too overpowering. It's so disappointing how through time women have had to lower their standards to achieve the most average men.

You're telling me Noah built Allie a house after not seeing her for years, wrote her a letter every day for a year, and waited for her, but my first date was walking to Jack in the Box and the liquor store. I'm not asking for the world, I'm just asking for a decent feeling of actual attraction to males. I know how annoying it is to get the ick for every man. As Snookie said, “Guys are douchebags and I hate them all, they don't know how to deal with women, and that's why the lesbian rate is going up in this country.” I feel as though real love is only constructed by intellectual people, and how many intellectual men are left in the world?

I just want to feel wanted and yearned for. That may be corny but EVERYTHING is painted as corny nowadays. Maybe that's the reason it's so hard for men to be romantic. They probably fear embarrassment but maybe it'll be less embarrassing when you're really really in love. Sometimes I feel as if I'm the issue. Maybe my standards are too high but I fully believe that if someone like Nicholas Sparks can write ‘The Notebook’, then not all hope is lost.

I want the old timey type of love that feels as if it could last forever. I would gladly take what Mr. Big and Carrie had because even though they fought a lot, there was still genuine love there. I genuinely tear up thinking about the possibility of me being alone or even worse feeling alone. Growing up with nothing but toxic relationships as a guide for love, I now just want to know if it's real. I’m tired of boys, bring the men in.

I always try to see from a man’s point of view but I refuse to put myself in incompetent shoes. If The Notebook is unrealistic and I'll never achieve that level of love, even without the house, without the rain, without the letters, and without the book, I’m just talking about their love. Is that so unrealistic? Is love dead? I don’t care if this is corny because this topic spirals through my head constantly. I wonder if I'm wasting time. Will I ever love someone that deeply? I’m not desperate for just anyone. I'm desperate for that feeling, that's why I never have deep connections with men. Because why am I going to waste time with something I don’t deserve. I deserve to be wanted and pursued, but more than that I deserve the mixture of simplicity and complexity that comes with loving someone. Maybe I am desperate, let’s hope my longing will help me in the long haul.

This is just my personal diary and my personal manifestation book where I allow myself to have opinions and allow others to either agree or disagree. So I'll end this by asking if there are any real Mr. Darcy’s and Mr. Bigs out there. I'm not asking for the exact love they had, I'm just asking for their desperation and most importantly their intimacy. Complex and in love. I'll update if I ever get this lol or maybe i'm just delusional.

- By Me <3

[tirfpikachu]

i know dealing with bad faith leftists is frustrating as hell. especially mainstream tras hatereading our thinkpieces or freshly peaked gyns who still have the grander leftist mindset of creating a hivemind and anything outside of what the hivemind believes means the person is some kind of demon who wants to genocide everybody etc etc.

the worst thing about it all is that most (definitely not all) people that are causing drama on tumblr have good intent and a good heart. but their self-preserving animal instincts and rampant insecurities lead to knee-jerk defensiveness at any criticism bc they want to be a good person so bad and they're absolutely terrified of the thought that they may have screwed up in the past without knowing it, they may have not been the best ally to the marginalized or might have lacked nuance, and all that fear of being The Bad Guy leads to aggression when someone calls out the behavior of a group they just so happen to be a part of. they're also often exhausted and stressed from this chaotic world and work or school or poverty or who knows what, and use that as an excuse to lash out. they misunderstand points and they lack social skills, at times from autism or some other disorder, which of course some people love to use as an excuse to get into bad faith debates bc of their poor reading comprehension skills. they utterly suck at interpersonal communication and they often are not the most emotionally stable, especially if they live a busy/stressful life irl or if they're younger and don't have their life figured out yet.

just because we understand where it comes from doesn't make it hurt any less or frustrate us any less whenever it happens. it still sucks. but honestly imo you sometimes do need to psychoanalyze the people being douchebags to you. it can bring some clarity to the situation. if you delve too much into empathy it at times can make it worse, and downplay your own perfectly normal upset/annoyed response at their dumbassery, so it needs to be a careful balance. but sometimes you need to see them as a super obtuse work in progress. down the line they might learn and then feel super embarrassed at how they reacted. i know i have been there, anyways. especially on radblr, we all know how we were when we freshly peaked... we had to get used to a space where diverse opinions are more respected. and i emphasize more respected because it's still social media, and ofc there's really snobby judgy feminists in here. but it's a much different culture, i think most of us can agree on that. think about pre-peaked you. you from back then. did you have evil intent? what reaction did you deserve others to give you? what would have helped you peak just a little? what did you need? what would have made the situation better? what do we want pre-peaked people to know about us, about this radblr community? how can we behave in a way that fosters more people peaking, instead of them turning their backs on us?

you need to be united and have a goal in mind. it's very fun to give into sassy clapbacks and mean-spirited memes every now and then. goddess knows i've given into that too and had a blast. but at some point as an activist you gotta be like, aight, let me think about our group's end game. how do we want to affect the leftist community? what behavior, what code of conduct should i have to make that goal actually come true? we all get to choose our path as feminists. mine, the tirfy side, dealing with the batshit mainstream tra nonsense, is more controversial and doesn't need to be your main focus. you need to journal it out. you need to figure out what you want to accomplish in your lifetime as a feminist on this platform. we're all getting older now, and i for one want to have a positive impact of some kind. you can ofc at times dunk on people - i probably will sometimes too. but you still need to keep your feminist goals in mind at all times. you're strong, you're powerful, you're captable, you're a force of nature and you can accomplish great things as a feminist if you just buckle down and do it, little by little. every interaction you have on here adds to that too. radblr has led to real change happening, irl too! this isn't just a website for nobodies that don't affect society whatsoever. this is tumblr. tumblr, the site that actually has had an insane amount of power on how the lgbt community defined itself irl and has affected everything from laws to schools to workplaces. we on radblr can also have a big impact if we just rally together and make things happen.

it's not just tumblr. it's Tumblr™ and it truly can create real change.

[that-demigirl]

Born To Die - Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: The days aftermath

A/N: Finally getting into some of the drama and relationship dynamics. Hope y'all enjoy

Allison had run into Jake in the halls after their push ups and suddenly all her anger was boiling over. She marched right up to him and shoved him hard in the chest, quickly gaining his attention. If he felt shocked or fearful it didn’t show on his face. In fact he just chuckled at her sudden outburst.

“What the fuck was that?” Allison yelled, “You think this is funny, Seresin? You think this all one big joke, it isn’t. When we go out there our lives will be on the line and unlike you, I have more than one person in my cockpit to save. You’re gonna get somebody killed in the air flying like that.”

“I don’t know what you’re so pressed about, Allie,” Jake taunted her, clearly enjoying her emotional display as if it proved something to him, “Learn to keep up and you won’t get left behind.”

“You’re a selfish douchebag,” Allison let all the hurt from the past couple years out as she continued to yell, “ All you know how to do is leave people, I guess it’s all you’re good at. I can’t believe I thought you’d be different this time-”

Allison was cut off by Erin dragging her away from Jake. They had apparently gained a crowd as more of their teammates watched the display. Erin knew that Allison would regret everyone seeing the outburst later so she figured the best course of action was to get her out of there.

“Allison, stop,” Erin said, just soft enough for her to hear it, “He’s not worth it.”

All the fight left Allison as she pushed Erin off of her and went to take a walk, purposefully shoulder checking Jake on her way out. All eyes moved to him, seeing if he was going to react, but he just continued to wear his smirk like a suit of armor. 

“You know one of these days she’s gonna stop giving you chances,” Erin told him, “I can’t tell if you care, but you should know that. Don’t hurt her again.”

—

“Allison!” Javy called after her, quickly catching up to the pilot.

“What do you want, Javy?” Allison turned to face him, obviously still angry about the whole situation.

“He does care, you know?” Javy told her, “He’s afraid of… well, Jake’s afraid of a lot even if he doesn’t show it. And he’s afraid that he’s gonna lose you like he lost… her.”

“Well he has a funny way of showing it,” Allison responded, “You know, like leaving me in more ways than one.”

Javy looks at Allison, as though his eyes could see into her soul, “He asked about you a lot, always wanted to know how you were doing. I don’t know how he figured out we were still in touch, but once he did he just… he wouldn’t stop asking.”

“He could have reached out…” Allison offered, the last bits of fight finally leaving her. It was an empty condolence and Allison couldn’t even say why she said it in the first place.

“Could he have?” Javy called her out, “We both know what you two were like during our first run here. Like sketchy fireworks, always sparking and never quite sure where it was headed. If he had reached out, had said anything, would you have answered?”

“I don’t like when you’re right,” Allison half-heartedly glared at Javy, “I can’t tell you what I would’ve done, Javy. All I can tell you is he didn’t give us a chance and I’m not sitting here waiting to get my heart broken again. It’s obvious that he hasn’t changed a bit since then.”

“Maybe he has, maybe you both have,” Javy pointed out before leaving her to her own thoughts.

—

A couple hours later it was Bradley and Jake in the air. Allison had cooled off from her outburst and Erin was already listening intently to the radio. It was safe to say that it did not go well. Erin suddenly left the room and went out to the tarmac a couple minutes after everyone had landed. By the time she got out there he was in the middle of his push ups. 

“All right, that’s enough,” Hondo told him but he kept going, “Rooster, that’s enough man.”

Erin approached as Hondo walked away, exchanging glances with the older man. She nodded in respect before squatting down by Bradley as he half collapsed.

“Hey,” She said softly, gaining his attention so as to not startle him.

“Leave me alone,” Bradley tried to brush her off but this time Erin wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Don’t do that to me,” Erin responded, firm but still empathetic, “I won’t let you push me away this time, Bradley. Allison and I are going to fly this mission, but if you continue to act this way and get yourself kicked out then you leave us flying with Hangman. So talk to me, please.”

“How am I supposed to trust him to not wash me out, Erin?” Bradley asked her, finally looking up at her. Suddenly Erin saw all the hurt and all the anger he had bottled up these past years, “He already pulled my papers, what’s to stop him from standing in my way again.”

“Bradley…” Erin shook her head, actually sitting next to him instead of squatting, “You can’t live in the past right now. It’s a dangerous road to go down especially with a dangerous mission coming up. I’m not going to ask you to forgive him, but don’t let him get to you. If you let him get to you then you let him win, stop letting him win.”

“I thought you’d be on his side again,” Bradley fully looked at her, bitterness evident in his tone.

“I was never on anyone's side but yours,” Erin began to stand up, not wanting to fight with him again, “I’ve always been in your corner, Bradley, always.”

Erin began to walk away but Bradley caught her wrist. She looked back at him, hurt as evident in her eyes as it was in his.

“Thank you…” Bradley said before letting her walk away.

Tag list: @djs8891

[caw4brandon]

Found Families and Why We Love Them

Dominic Toretto once said "I don’t have friends, I got family" with that in mind, that will be our intro for today! Although we find that iconic line cheesy as cheese, the audience loves a great found-family setup.

Something about how a bunch of misfits and inconsiderate douchebags developing to be a family of their own in spite of their quirkiness and tragic backgrounds makes us love them more than the typical and already functional groups. Like most families, there is the father, the mother, and the child. The rest is kind of subjective.

I've talked a little bit about actual families via [The Addams Family] but I think Found Families are a different breed. Let's discuss that and explain why we love them so much~

- Crows Never Forget -

While conversing with a friend I've met on Tumblr. My friend suggested that I should watch the show < Shadow and Bone > based on the Grisha Trilogy by [Leigh Bardugo] The story mainly follows Alina Starkov who lives in a world divided by the haunting dark cloud placed at the center of the three counties known as; The Fold.

Aside from the main plot you can already guess if you know enough fiction. The show features a merry band of dangerous outcasts. The Six of Crows from Ketterdam. Led by the cunning leader; Kaz "Dirty Hands" Brekker.

The team is supported by, Inej Ghafa The Assassin, Nina Zenik The Heartrender, Jesper Fahey The Sharpshooter, Matthias Helvar The Convict, and Wylan Van Eck The Runaway. Like every group that shares this type of beat. The teammates do not trust one another and are only united for the cause.

This will develop as the series goes on and their trust will change from strangers to allies to family beneath the backdrop of a sinfully cut-throat and exciting city. While the series only showed Five of the Six so far. I've grown very quickly to love this group for their chemistry and their respective motivations to stay as a team.

What's so interesting to watch is, despite how typical this trope is. I still couldn't keep my eyes off this concept. It's so much fun to see the Six interact even though for now, it's just Kaz, Inej, and Jesper (also, The Goat; Milo) planning a heist to kidnap our heroine. On the other end of the world, we learn about Matthias and Nina. The Convict and The Witch (Matthias's words, not mine)

Dysfunctional groups like these feel very human. They don't act like they care for the world or for one another but instead, grow in the process.

Similarly, another dysfunctional group called < The Guardians of The Galaxy > shares the same vibes as the Six. Their talent is great but it's their destructive tendencies or personal vendettas that make them less like heroes. Rather, they are people who just so happened to be doing heroics.

- Where is your Supervisor? -

Part of the trick in making fun found families is the will to condense the group down to about four or three characters. In most Shonen manga/ anime, the main character (eg, Naruto) is often supported by a lancer character (eg, Sasuke) and the heart (eg, Sakura) There is also the mentor/senior (eg, Kakashi) and it will always be these four. Other examples like Harry (Potter) and Co are good samples of the main trio with a mentor (Hagrid).

It's rare that we find trios with no mentor figure. Such is the case of another show I recently watched, < Lockwood and Co > based on the book series by [Jonathan Stroud] For a quick summary, Lockwood is set in London with one big exception. The city/ world at large is haunted by lethal ghosts (AKA The Problem) and only kids can sense them. Therefore, fight them.

The main cast consists of Anthony Lockwood, the cool and fearless badass gentleman who is strongest with Sight. George Karim, an all-rounder but a highly talented Researcher. Finally, our main character, Lucy Carlyle. An incredibly talented girl who's the most gifted with Hearing and Touch. Unlike the other agencies which are by the book and led by a Supervisor (an adult). Lockwood is purely independent but is unfortunately small and always in trouble with the law due to their incredibly dangerous methods.

Still, they are the best at what they do. Hunting ghosts while solving the bigger mystery behind The Problem. Despite their terrible coordination, the team has proven themselves to be better and far more personal with the cases they crack. Making it less like a job.

They are reminders that less is better. The cast plays the role of Hero, Lancer, and Heart very well and their chemistry is great and funny. Anthony and Lucy will sometimes bud heads, George will do his own thing making two of his partners incredibly proud and, you might see some tender/real moments between them.

Lockwood also removes the typical hero's journey of losing a mentor figure and instead makes the characters each other's mentors. The team relies on one other with their lives to survive every mission and navigate through life as a whole.

It felt more organic for them to grow together because there's a sense for when an adult shares a piece of advice (no matter how good it is) feels very smug and dull. The characters feel like actual teens because the setting for the agency sounds like something actual teens will do. Break the rules and do right for the fun or for some deep-rooted conspiracy that the world has yet to know.

- You Chose The Wrong Side! -

From the dysfunctional groups like the Six or the Guardians to the power of Three. There is one other interesting layer to the Found Family troupe. The Disbanded Found Family.

While most stories tell of how the team came to be, rare stories tell of how they split off and are no longer on speaking terms. For a while, The MCU's Avengers were at war with one another during < Captain America; Civil War > With Steve Rogers and Tony Stark budding heads harshly over the Sokovia Accords.

Seeing a well-rounded team break up is difficult for the characters and the audience because. For all the disagreements they had with one another, they've developed along the way to be close like a family. Seeing them split is like watching a divorce happening on screen and it's heartbreaking and sometimes a little bit awesome because you've got the best of the best competing to declare their superiority.

Perhaps one of the best examples I have seen is through < Kuroko No Baskue > where our main character; Tetsuya Kuroko entered High School and vowed to defeat/ beat some sense to his Former Junior High School Basketball Team with his newfound team; Seirin High

Kuroko's former team is famously known as The Generation of Miracles; an elite team of young talents that excel on the court, thus making them prodigies of their generation.

The Miracles consist of; Daiki Aomine (The Power Forward Beast), Shintarō Midorima (The Star Shooter), Atsushi Murasakibara (The Ultimate Center), Seijūrō Akashi (The Emperor's Eye) and Ryōta Kise (The Perfect Copycat) From the little we have seen, the team is passionate about the sport they play and they share a very brotherly relationship with one another.

As the series develops, we learn more about their personal relationships with Kuroko and with each other. We see the infighting between them and we learn about how their respective egos build. We learn about their vow during graduation and we get to see them reunited once again.

The series as a whole function in two ways. Kuroko develops new relationships with his new team and Kuroko confronts his old team to mend their relationship. It tackles the dysfunctional team setup at its lowest state and rekindles the flame for the respective parties to be healed. Also, it's really cool to see such a colorful cast together.

- I Didn't Pick The Damn Team! -

With that said, it's a wonder for why Found Families are a timeless troupe no matter the settings. But, like how Amanda Waller sets up Task Force X/ The Suicide Squad. Sometimes it's not by choice and it always starts out bumpy.

What I find fun in teams like the ones mentioned is that they share a common language in spite of their unique flavors. The teams are built on trust, a common goal, and the willingness to open up. For all the gimmicks, the core values stay the same.

We, the audience love a good Found Family because in an indirect way. We wanted a group like that. We longed to have a group that we can call family but, the reality of it all is. It's really up to how the characters interact with one another.

Every circle is different and no matter the status or the seasons. All are maintained by the will to reach out. It's something I hope to use for my own team in the process. To have [Them be there for you, Cause you're there for Them too]

Thanks for reading

- Caw4B -

[intrikatie]

Things I can't stop thinking about after Heartstopper season 2.

"I'm bi, actually." I know my bi brethren and babes can relate.

Nick realising he CAN openly be Charlie's boyfriend in their friend group. Stunning for its simplicity. Like, "hang on, they all know we're dating. Imma kiss him goodbye."

Tao opening up to Nick. At the start Tao was his usual, "it's none of your business etc." Taoness. And the moment Nick asks him about Elle in the hotel room he automatically answers "fine" but then, sits up and actually talks about how he feels and we see him relax in Nicks company. It's so precious and such a core memory moment. And Nick telling him he's a good looking guy... I mean 🤌

"They're idiots for assuming you were straight." A straight up FU to Kit's trolls. Who, FYI, are not welcome here.

Nick talking to Elle about just feeling.

Tori.Tori.Tori.Tori.Tori.Tori.Tori.Tori.Tori.Tori.Tori.Tori.Tori.Tori.Tori.Tori.Tori.

Nick opening up to Tao about his worries for Charlie. And Tao taking an interest.This is such a core moment. Their combined love for Charlie means that they can only really talk to each other about him, knowing the other will understand. This was such a small scene but we learned SO much. Why Tao fears being abandoned. How scared Nick is about Charlie's mental health. And Nicks visible shock that Charlie hasn't told Tao about how bad the bullying was. These two...

Sarah my Queen! Telling Douchebag David to stop swearing and allowing Nick to swear because Nick. Had. Every. Right. Telling Stéphane that he had no right to comment on their boys as he wasn't around to parent them. Calling Charlie a good boy/sweetheart. (The scene on the eiffel tower when Charlie knows Sarah will like their selfie).

Ben's smile, remembering his first kiss with Charlie. How for him, it was a nice memory... (I have a lot to say on this... but not now.)

Isaac hearing about AroAce and getting his own Heartstopper moment. The way (THE NICEST BOY IN THE UNIVERSE) straight up told the gang to shut up speculating about his romantic life. The way he hugged that book like "this is mine bitches" and got a second Heartstopper moment.

The platonic padlock Hooray for representing platonic love!

Charlie sticking up for Nick we finally got to see his Slytherin side. Telling the Garbage King Harry to "Piss Off". Saying "No" to Harry's homo FOMO. Telling Ben that he hopes he will become a better person but he didn't want to be there to see it happen.

Tao and Elle. How adorable were ALL their scenes? Tao trying to make himself "better" for Elle, Elle being annoyed by him changing. Tao being supportive of her choice to go to Lambert. TAO'S HAIR!

Garbage King Harry speaking up for Imogen and Nick and Charlie...not brilliantly, but he spoke. If we don't see him in a skirt in Season 3 they better announce season 4 or a feature "Nick and Charlie" film.

Imogen being adorably clueless about life in general. Trying to be an ally but still making assumptions about others sexuality. Hugging Nick, because he didn't want to date her because he simply did not fancy her and not knowing how else to react. Sticking up for herself! Recognising that she deserves better! Asking the boys for a hug and telling them how lovely their friend group is and seeking them out to hang out with.

Darcy just....I mean... 🥺 I left home early too. Eventhough I had places I could go, admitting to your friends why you need a place....ouch. This hit home. The lives we project through social media, to our friends vs. the ones we live. The I love you! I LOVE YOU!

Christian, Otis and Sai, (mainly Christian). What a goofball. Loved how he said "we know you're really good mates." And Otis and Sai just closed their eyes at his stupidity. We all have that one friend who makes us cringe like that. Personally, I think he and Imogen would be super cute together. We just need Darcy to take one look at them and leave her to do the rest.

The teachers Mr Farouk's QUIET and iconic Londonisms like calling Ben "rude boy". Mr Ajayi and Coach Singh giggling like school girls. Coach Singh giving Nick some "been there done that" relationship advice. Turning her head away to stop giggling after she suggests they leave the kissing out of team practice. I love that Charlie has Ajayi and Nick has Singh. I want a Farouk fist bump.

Nick and Charlie's final bedroom scene. I will keep saying it. You cannot imagine how much this means to me. As someone who has been where Charlie has been. Nick's willingness to discuss it, to listen, with fear but without judgement. His pleading to Char to promise to tell him if he ever feels that bad again. Holy. Shit. This scene touched (and healed) something deep in my soul. The acting in this scene was just incredible. I really wish 17 yo me had heard Nick.

Nick saying "I..." then changing the sentence kind of humorous that he gets so comfortable with saying "I'm bi, actually." But can't finish the other three word sentence. "I....I really care about you." "I love your hair. I love your eyes. I love......" can't wait for Season 3 Shower Scene.

[1nvad3rz1m]

I only watched the movie once, so maybe my mind twisted the things that happened in it, so if I am wrong about any of these, people will probably proove me wrong anyway, which is fine, I'd appreaciate that, because getting a new/clearer perspective is always nice.

First: One of the things I liked about the original series that it didn't want me to feel sorry for the characters, (it just showed the situation and the audience could judge it themselves,) but I did anyway, however I felt like the film wanted me to feel sad for Dib and take his side? I don't like when the source material tries to spoon-feed me what to feel about the character, whether it's positive or negative.

Besides Membrane's "I am proud of you" feeling rushed, it is only me or Gaz standing up for Clembrane has something odd about it? I cannot put my finger on what it is really. It feels like to me it is supposed to be a cute moment, but similarly to the "proud of you" I think it needed more development? Maybe I am just underestimating Gaz's niceness...

And the "I only hurt you when/because I know you can handle it" or something like that leaved a bad taste in my mouth, I know it's probably supposed to be the: "Aww, cute sibling moment! Gaz knows Dib's limits! And she wouldn't let her brother seriously hurt!" but it feels it's there to make Gaz look better and have an emotional moment. The only explanation I can come up with is that Gaz doesn't recognize the severe consequences of her actions to her brother's mental health, which with the father they have I am not suprised about.

+This one is just a personal preference, but I thought Tak's ship's attitude in the comics was funnier about hating Dib and Zim than in the movie. In the movie they convince her to help in a kinda cliché way? I mean it's not bad, and it doesn't feel out of character, and I know they needed it for the plot, but it feels kinda underwhelming to me considering how the show (and a lot of the comics) goes against the clichés without feeling "just for the sake of it" and it makes logical sense, like in the issue where Dib outs Zim to the pants "he'll just betray you" and you'd think the pants join him, and later become friends/allies because that's how it is in other media, but they are like "Thank you for telling us, we defeat him and when he is out of the way, the planet is ours". They literally just used the information for their own advantage without feeling guilty about it and it's so refreshing! I wish they didn't cut out the ship going rescuing Tak, because it would have made the relatively easy co-operation make more sense. (Although maybe the ship just listens to Gaz better than to Dib) But probably time/budget issues came up.

Also it's probably gonna sound contradictory because of what I said prior, but I felt like at some point the writers tried to make us stop caring about Zim in the comics and they kinda successeeded in that for me, because I just started to find him so annoying and tiring and idiotic that I wouldn't have cared if he would have just got written out of them. Why is it so common when a villain goes down in a huge self-destructive path, they become the most boring, pathetic characters in the story? If you want them to get worse than they already are why not have them go completely apeshit? A more competent, vile douchebag, who doesn't let anyone to get in their way? Why not show their true potential? It seemed like it was something like that where it was going first, Dib getting a hero arc, Zim becoming a better bad guy, but it was dropped? (Yeah, Zim didn't like his future self, but come on...) Maybe the problem is me not appreaciating that, because this isn't illogical, people can stop caring and become aimless/self-sabotaging, but I am kinda tired of them being treated like a joke, while we're supposed to take the opposing team seriously. And they didn't really did anything with the changed dynamic? I mean beetween the two main ones, since at least they continued the Membrane family plotline...

That makes it sound like I hate the movie, but I am not. I am more mixed about it if anything. I could talk about in a similar amount what I liked about, but for this I just focused on the aspects I found negative. And for the comics: I like most of them actually, don't let me fool you with me focusing on mostly what I don't like.

Again: Disagreements or other arguments are also great. This is not meant to insult people who enjoy those aspects, these just didn't work for me.

hoo boy * rubs my hands together * under read more for length!

YES exactly. i couldnt put it into words before but yes, this is it. the series you just kind of...incidentally feel bad for the characters because theyre so pathetic and self destructive. its not something they WANT you to do, it just kind of happens naturally. the movie tries HARD to make you feel bad for dib and side with him and feel satisfied that his family was "fixed". and it did the opposite for me at least LOL

on gaz, yeah, it was funnier when she was just fucked up and horrible. she kind of sort of cares about dib, but shes also similarly affected by her fathers neglect and dibs shunning from society. she has a reason to act out and be horrible and it just made more sense character wise. in the movie it feels like thats missing, because now membrane is a better dad and dib is "growing" or something and idk! cheapens her overall.

i hadnt put much thought into it before but yeah ur right, probably just needed to move the plot along somehow unfortunately because they declawed zim and dib and usually they play off each other enough to progress plots loll. theres been a reliance on taks ship to me that i dont understand considering shes like barely present in the show but u know...sci fi stuff

for zim: yes. absolutely yes TO ME it seems like the writers now mostly related to dib which...find me an iz fan that doesnt. but they simultaneously dont have any appreciation for zim, and treat him more as only a thorn in dibs side than his only salvation in the face of a world that doesnt give a rats ass about him. zim is an obstacle to dibs happiness, or a tool to get it,and not his happiness in and of itself.

i feel this happens a lot as series are getting revivals especially when the series are decades old, opinions shift and even sometimes new writers who were previous fans may have skewed opinions because of fan content they participated in. sometimes this can be great, sometimes...eh.

and its no secret jhonen has grown so tired of iz and i truly do not blame him. and in an age of revivals and reboots...it only worsens creators attitudes towards franchises that have had their runs but companies want to milk more out of it (see craig mccracken and the ppg, for example)

i dont want people to think i hate florpus (or the comics) either because i really, truly dont! like i said, its a good movie on its own and id watch it again. my only gripes is how disconnected it is from the og material, and how that contributes to discourse amongst fans and interpreting the characters.

to me etf is like..an alternate timeline almost. it doesnt feel like a continuation, it feels like something else entirely different. im glad it brings in traffic, im glad people like it and discover the series and decades of fan love and appreciation even if they like etf more. i just have complex opinions abut it ig, and why it feels like invader zim lite instead of invader zim. invader zim as a series was so distinct from everything else and it still is, and etf just doesnt have that same spark to me!

[moontheoretist]

“Doctor Strange?” One of receptionists poked her head in. “Oh, good! We got a delivery for you. Flowers.” Stephen blinked when she brought in a single, red orchid, planted in a tasteful, ceramic pot. He took the flower from her and opened the card. ‘Found you.’ - TS “And,” The receptionist continued. “There are more.” Stephen frowned and said, “More? How much more?” “Er, the entrance is full of them. The delivery man didn’t give me a name. He only said that you would know who the sender was.” “What the…what am I supposed to do with that many flowers??” Stephen exclaimed. “That douchebag!” Christine snickered beside him, which he didn’t appreciate. “Look on the bright side: it’s sweet. And expensive.” “He wouldn’t dare send me something cheap—not if he knew what was good for him.” “Of course not.” Stephen could also do without her smug condescension. That was his purview. “We’ll place them in tasteful spots around the ICU. Liven up the place a bit.” “Strange!” Fuller shouted as he entered the room. Stephen blinked. “Whatever it was I probably did do it. But we both know you’re not going to fire me so let’s not dwell on the past.” “God you’re insufferable,” Nic muttered. “Flatterer.” “You are a miracle worker, is what you are! I just arranged the delivery for three brand new, cutting edge MRI machines to completely replace the ones we have,” said Fuller as the rest of the room burst out into applause. “Can we still take a bat to the crappy one?” Someone called from the back. “No, sadly. But if you want to give it a discreet kick before Thursday I can’t stop you.” Fuller turned and beamed at him. It was frightening, to be honest. Fuller had never approved of a thing he did before. “Christine, he’s baring his teeth at me.” “That’s a smile, Stephen,” she sighed. “When I sent you off to that gala I assumed I would spend my Monday morning smoothing ruffled feathers,” Fuller began. “Then why send me?” Stephen asked. “I wanted you to suffer.” “Fair enough. Continue.” “But lo and behold I get a call from Tony Stark himself. He sounded a little hungover, to be honest. Actually he sounded drunk. But who cares? His money is still as green as the forests of the Pacific Northwest. Johnson at Mount Sinai Queens is going to be so jealous. He’s been unbearable since he got that research grant-” Fuller cleared his throat. “In any case. It seems you somehow managed to impress Stark.” “He may be a degenerate, but he’s a genius degenerate. He admired my formidable intellect and commitment to healing the sick.” “…He also asked some odd questions. I think he was trying to see if you were single and interested in men.” “Well, this is awkward.” “Look, Strange. I like to think of myself as progressive. You will find no greater ally than I-” “Oh God-” “Metro-General does not discriminate and the happiness and well-being of our employees is one of our highest priorities. We are a family-” “I hated my family.” “However, I think it would be nice if you could call the man back and give him our sincerest thanks.” Fuller placed a card face down on the table and began to slide it towards Stephen. “Dr. Fuller, it sounds as if you want to use me to get more money out of Stark.” Fuller gasped. “Dr. Strange! I am appalled and hurt you would say such a thing. I would never. HR would be furious! But here is his private number should you want to strike up a conversation. I don’t care about what—it’s none of my business. Although if you want my advice work seems like a good start.” Stephen rolled his eyes. “Work. Hm. Like my patients, my research…or those X-Ray machines you’ve been trying to replace?” “Like I said, it’s none of my business. Now. Let’s get started on rotations.” “Will you call?” Christina whispered. Strange eyed the numbers on the card—jet black against white. He memorized them before tucking it in his breast pocket. He’d shred it later. “Why not? You only live once.”

Have Time — Will Travel by flower-of-el (NibelungVelocity)

[the-firebird69]

This guy is out of line all the time and his little f**** is constantly challenging our son and our son says go outside or shut your mouth and I'm going to have you assassinated and the guy doesn't and you see him dead in the news he did it again today several times so we're going to get rid of him now he's been asking people and telling them to go after Democrats sometimes with illegal methods so we're going to bring a case against them and we are going to announce it and we're going to tell people in the government that you have to bring charges in this way to do that yeah. You go in and you ask to file charges against someone they have to bring it before the judge and they're required to investigate it but still at times they just look at it and say no and stamp it and you have a right to appeal now you can go to a federal agency but really that's what the problem is these people do all sorts of crimes all damn day and nobody is enforcing it so what you've done for years to us as you ran a scam and the scam is that your the police and the good guys and we're going to run that scan cuz it's with money and stuff. Nicole Brown Simpson was on our side and she was a sister and she was murdered by OJ Simpson who is Trump and he hit her no it was Cato who was Tommy f and just hit her and left her there she did recover and she disappeared a few years ago now it's a few years after the incident the family was trying to get stuff and it was Trump and it was really the max and they wanted information and a lot of it was about Trump and bja she made her business to know because there's huge wise asses she found out what they're going to do with them and she was telling people and like our son said they're screaming until they're blue in the face and it didn't do anything and you have to do things in real time with real Force and they started trying to do it and it was horrible and they got nails and they were very dangerous they take a hundreds of Max at a time and Max her heart to take down and finally they started to disappear and these people need to know it they are horrendous horrendous to our son and you need to know about Tonya he's trying to control himself and he was in Sarasota and I was up there and I've never seen so many Mr cleans in my life seriously they all look like the guy from Mr clean as a particular group by the way and Tommy F figured it out you can look at him and see who they are and he's going to check and the other place too too hard and Ken so it was and he's mad and he says Edison is probably a group of them and Sean Connery or whatever saying is it's one of them so they're amazed to say these are people he's been seeing they come by and see he's out of control and all this crap that little gay boys say he says Joey credit that s*** in your mouth and he did die and Trump has his body and got information but not much cuz he sucks at it

Thor Freya

You captured James Bond and you don't know anything you f****** loser get the hell away from me

Zues Hera

Yeah I probably should I see what you're saying

Trump

This blows you capture James Bond and you can't figure s*** out you have to get rid of you then again you probably thought you captured him and he was you who was in stasis usually happens that way

Yeah I got the name and then his saying no he hasn't even me I'm a girl from the show King of Queens s*** Carrie and no I'm not the same girl in the space shuttle you a****** damn you such a f****** douchebag you're trying to dump him off that and it's the white female horse it's not sleeping beauty it's Snow White yeah that's the name of the horse and his is Black beauty and she's testing that's what she's doing yuck

Carrie

Olympus

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

Fake dating au where demetris on his third strike with the school counselor so when they're about to fight again he holds his hand instead. Hawk cant help but blush and counselor Blatt jumps to conclusions and tries to be overly accepting

PFFFFT okay this is fuckin great

Like I’m just imagining Demetri doing the PETTIEST bullshit to get back at Hawk for that destroying-his-science-project business, like he writes “COBRA KAI SUCKS” all over his locker in sharpie in cleverly-disguised handwriting or pours soda on Hawk’s karate equipment and tough dude sportsballs (because come ON--Eli’s had the same locker combination for years, and just because he’s badass now doesn’t mean it would occur to him to change it) or steals his portable hair gel so that the ‘hawk will be sad and sagging by 6th period, and as soon as Hawk catches on to what’s going on, it doesn’t take long for him to figure out who’s behind all this chicanery. And he fuckin goes RIGHT up to Demetri during the next passing period (he knows exactly what part of the school that little nerd is in because he figured out and memorized Demetri’s class schedule SOLELY for harassment purposes and not because he likes him or anything) like “BRO YOU WANNA GO YOU WANNA FUCKIN GO” and Demetri gets ready to fight like “COME AT ME ASSHOLE” and Demetri’s getting ready to throw the world’s meanest punch to start the brawl (because his douchebag ex-best-friend ain’t the only one who can strike first) when the accursed Counselor Blatt rounds the corner.

She turns and fixes an icy glare right on them, and Demetri has to think fast. He unclenches his fist mid-punch and wraps a hand around Eli’s wrist. Eli’s hand flexes out in surprise, and before he can react, Demetri’s fingers have found their way up his wrist and laced with his own. Hawk’s face goes redder than his (already, sadly, beginning to sag) mohawk.

And fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hawk was absolutely not prepared for this. He absolutely was not prepared for the same goddamn helpless sensation of vertigo to hit as that time he held Demetri’s hand during Red Rover in the 6th grade (how in the hell did a couple of losers like them get invited to play, anyways? The teacher probably made the other kids include them or something). And Hawk fucking hates how warm and pleasant Demetri’s hand feels in his own, and how it fills him with the same hopeless longing that he hoped he could punch away into oblivion as soon as Kreese started training him.

But here comes that stupid-ass counselor, and something tells him that now is not the time to yank his hand away and slam Demetri into the lockers behind them, no matter how much he would like to.

“Demetri? Eli?” Counselor Blatt looks back and forth between the two of them, perplexed. “What’s this?”

“What’s what, Counselor Blatt?” Demetri pulls Hawk closer and swings his other arm around the shorter boy’s shoulders. Hawk can only bristle in barely-concealed rage.

“Did I just...see you about to punch Eli?” she continues. “When you’ve been to our seminar on respectful alternatives to physical aggression?”

“Oh no, you misunderstand!” Demetri laughs, and Hawk wants to smack him. God, his laugh is annoying. He’s annoying. Hawk wants to scream into a wall and he’s not sure why.

“I was just in a hurry to hold my boyfriend’s hand,” he goes on gleefully. “I haven’t seen him all day! Is that okay with you, Counselor Blatt?” He gives the counselor a challenging stare, and Hawk almost feels sorry for the woman and how utterly lost she is.

“I thought you were upset with Mr. Moskowitz here for ruining your science project,” Counselor Blatt says slowly.

“Oh, that?” Demetri snorts. “We were just on a little break. I think that was my indication that good ol’ Eli wasn’t taking it too well. But we worked everything out, and it’s alllll good now!”

He gives the counselor his most winning grin, and Hawk just turns to gape at him. Out of all the absurd directions Demetri could’ve taken this thing, framing him throwing a soccer ball across the cafeteria to smash Demetri’s project as a couple’s fight was one Hawk had not seen coming.

But then again...that did kind of let him off the hook, didn’t it? If all of his messing with Demetri was nothing but silly relationship drama. After all, Counselor Blatt hadn’t lifted a finger when the utter spectacle that was Kyler and Sam LaRusso’s breakup had ravaged the school’s gossip chain.

“You know, you really should be more accepting of LGBT relationships,” Hawk says, making a point to pull out the kicked puppy expression. “It’s hurtful enough that my boyfriend and I get as many stares as we do from other students.”

“I...! Well! I mean!” Counselor Blatt splutters, looking everywhere but their eyes. “I think it’s great you boys are able to...express yourselves so freely! I want this school to be an environment where students of all sexualities are able to be themselves. I’m so happy West Valley High is such a diverse place!” She smiles, brightly but still very confused.

“With all due respect, Counselor Blatt, we’re not just some token gay couple.” Hawk doesn’t let up on the puppy dog eyes. “We’re just two guys who love each other. That’s all. All we want is to be accepted for who we are.”

He feels Demetri stiffen beside him with surprise, but the grip on his hand and around his shoulder doesn’t loosen in the slightest.

Demetri’s really acting like he doesn’t want to let go. He’s really committing to this façade.

Makes sense. When they were in middle school, Demetri always tried to be the class clown--not that it ever worked. Eli would always cheer him up by insisting he had a natural talent for improv. The kid isn’t half bad at acting, he’ll admit.

“And...you are accepted!” Counselor Blatt reassures awkwardly. “I’m...sorry I misunderstood your relationship, boys. I should be better about checking my heterosexual privilege.”

“Not to worry!” Demetri says cheerily. “Anyone who works at being a good ally to the community is always appreciated!”

Hawk resists the urge to roll his eyes. What was this, a fucking gay Sesame Street episode?

“Sorry again, Demetri. Eli. Have a nice day.”

As soon as Counselor Blatt shuffles around the corner and out-of-sight, Hawk tears his hand away (as...reluctant as he admittedly is to do so. Feeling another hand curled around his made him feel calmer and safer than he had in months, no matter what utter pussy’s it was. Disgusting. Kreese would never train him again if he found out, that was for sure.). He shoves Demetri hard--not into the lockers, not in any way that’ll make a noise to be noticed, but enough to knock the wind out of that fucking runt.

“What the fuck was that?” Hawk snarls.

Demetri crosses his arms and glowers at him. “I just saved both of us from a month of detention. It was only so long before she figured out Cobra Kai’s the aggressor around here just as much as Miyagi-Do is.”

Hawk surges forward and tries to shove him again, but Demetri is ready this time and quickly blocks. “What the hell was your grand plan, anyways?” he scoffs. “Pick a fight with me in the middle of the school day?”

Demetri sighs, starting to back away. “Eli, Eli, Eli. I know you’ve got a good brain in there, buddy. Maybe start using it, if all the punches to the head haven’t messed it up too much.”

He taps his head a couple times before turning and disappearing into the throng of students around them. Hawk groans.

Mitch doesn’t make matters better as they walk away. “Dude, were you blushing?”

“Shut the fuck up, man! I was just fucking embarrassed!”

Bert sniggers. “I’ll say. Should I start planning the wedding?”

“Don’t make me fucking deck you! Look...he wanted to stay out of trouble, and I realized I could spin it to our advantage. So I did. We’re in the clear for now.”

“Yeah, only took a bit of...hand-to-hand combat,” Mitch snickers. “What’s next? Judo wrestling him in the janitor’s closet?” He and Bert break out in giggles, and Hawk shoots them both his most seething glare.

“If you mention any of this to Sensei Kreese, I will kill you,” Hawk growls.

“Fair enough,” Mitch says, shrugging. Bert nods in agreement.

Hawk reminds himself to wail especially hard on both of them during practice today.

[into-the-afterlife]

Why I Ship Johnny/Female V: Part 2

[Part 1] [Part 2]

This is Part 2 of my essay series on why I ship Johnny and female V. Back in part 1, I covered why I ship female V specifically with Johnny and not male V, as well as some thoughts on Johnny’s sexuality. This time, I’m looking at Johnny himself. (Content warning: there is some discussion of rape and how rape is handled in fiction.)

Johnny, ambiguity and age-old romantic tropes

Look, I’m just going to come out and say this: part of my interest in this ship is thirsting over Johnny. And when I’m interested in something, whether it’s an intellectual, creative or sexual interest, I like to do what I always do – analyse it to death. So what is it about the actor, the performance and the character that makes Johnny as attractive as he is?

Keanu Reeves himself, obviously, can’t be ignored here. He has a gorgeous face and voice, but crucially, he’s distinctively beautiful. Obviously, everyone has the right to be into what they’re into, and I don’t want to shame anyone for their tastes. But I do not understand people who are into the blandly beautiful. Sure, there’s nothing wrong about, let’s say, Chris Evans. But what’s right about him? Where are the snags that catch your attention and hold it? Where’s the life?

Reeves, meanwhile, is attractive because he’s unusual. He has long, dark hair, but he’s regularly photographed at public events with it mussed-up. He has a chiselled face, but his cheekbones are high enough that he looks alien. He has all the charisma of any Hollywood actor, but, whether this is him as he is or an especially well-calculated image choice, it comes off as genuine. When watching interviews with him, you feel less in the presence of a star and more an especially fascinating stranger at a party, one who, despite bursting with witticisms and stories, somehow wants to talk to you most of all.  

There’s also an element of age ambiguity here. Reeves is in his fifties, and while age suits his looks better than youth did, it shows. Meanwhile, Johnny the character is in his thirties when he dies, and to match this, the animators smooth out Reeves’ face and darken his beard. They also give Johnny the (unrealistic but glorious) organic arms of a dedicated bodybuilder. So what Johnny ends up with is the presence, confidence and charisma of an older guy, combined with the physicality of someone younger. It’s potent, to say the least. It also adds to Johnny’s uncanniness as a character. He’s caught between maturity and youth, life and death, humanity and machine; he’s hard to pinpoint no matter where you look. And whether you express this academia-style, as, ‘the gothic associates uncanniness with sexuality’, or internet-style,  as, ‘I’m a monster/robotfucker’, this is, as the kids say, pretty damn hot.

This uncanniness, as well as Reeves’ looks and performance, also offset some of the more unlikeable aspects of Johnny’s personality. This is best illustrated by the concept art created for Johnny before Reeves was brought on board. (Found courtesy of the lovely folks at r/LowSodiumCyberpunk.)

As you can see, they had a lot of Johnny’s look already nailed down. But this makes the differences all the more startling. This Johnny looks like he’s been dragged through the wringer. His hair is messier, and he seems to be getting premature wrinkles and balding. He’s strung-out, with a genuinely hopeless cast to his face. His look is also a lot more dated. While our Johnny has elements of the old rocker, the jean jacket, bandana, V-necked black jumper and aviators clipped to the tank top root this Johnny inescapably in 1980s music and fashion.

Why is all this relevant to shipping Johnny with V? Partially because I’m shallow, I’m not going to lie. But it’s also because making Johnny look like this would have made him much more obviously an intrusion. A guy dressed like this next to 2077’s booty shorts and space buns is like a ghost in a ballgown next to a woman in jeans. He’s not just out of time; he’s been irrevocably left behind. Johnny’s face here also has much less in the way of possibility. Where our Johnny says, ‘maybe your life would be better if you listened to me’, this Johnny screams, ‘my way is hopeless, but you can’t ignore it’. It’s leaning much more into the tragic aspects of Johnny’s character and of the genre of cyberpunk. And don’t get me wrong – I love that artwork, and think that angle would be an interesting artistic choice.

But making Johnny a tragic intrusion like this removes the element of seduction, so to speak, from his character. What makes Johnny attractive, ideologically, sexually and romantically, is a balance of certainty and uncertainty. On the surface, he’s passionately, blazingly certain of his politics, his music and himself. If you’re taking a leap of faith, whether that’s fighting against the corpos that rule your life or hopping into bed with an engram, what draws you to it is the kind of confidence that makes you doubt your own certainties. Yet too much of that can be off-putting. Nobody wants a partner who’s so cocksure (pardon the pun) that they don’t listen to what you want, and nobody wants a political ally who’s gone so far into their own rhetoric that they can’t convince those outside it.

Therefore, the common factor across all the ways Reeves’ looks impact our perception of Johnny is the balancing of two seemingly opposing things. Keep that in mind, because it only gets more relevant the deeper into this ship, and Johnny’s attractiveness, we go.

Of course, Reeves’ looks are far from the only thing he brings to the table. His acting, across body language, facial expressions and voice acting, is incredible. I want to take a look at his voice acting, as well as his voice generally, first.

I’m not familiar enough with the subtleties of American accents to pinpoint why, but Reeves’ accent sounds slightly different to the more generic accents of other famous actors. Perhaps it’s because he’s Canadian. Either way, his consonants are less harsh on the ear than other A-list actors, his vowels less elongated. He speaks slowly, sounding as if he just woke up. His voice is mellow and soothing; it’s the sort of sound you could take a bath in.

(For reference purposes, I’m listening to this Cyberpunk trailer as I write this, as well as, um, this video that I’ve watched far too many times. XD)

Obviously, to play Johnny he has to modify that laid-back aspect of his voice. But it’s interesting how his natural voice and his ‘Johnny’ voice bounce off each other. Reeves is able to pull off a much more belligerent Johnny than many actors could, precisely because of that laid-back quality his natural voice has. Think of that ‘impressive cock’ line. It’s made as funny as it is because of the total lack of shame in how Reeves delivers it. But in the mouth of an actor like, let’s say, Robert Downey Jr, that level of shamelessness would just come off as annoying. Reeves uses his natural voice to amp up Johnny’s, for lack of a better word, Chad-ness, far beyond the place another actor could manage. Because he has that base of softness, he can go hard on Johnny’s arrogance.

Why is this relevant to Johnny’s attractiveness as a character, as well as why Johnny/F!V are a fascinating ship? To develop a character well, you have to have an extremely solid base to start on – and that base is where a lot of writing and acting falls down. The audience has to know intimately what a character is usually like, or who they seem to be, before burrowing into the character further is made effective. That equal hard/soft approach means that when Johnny does soften later in the game, it seems both unexpected and inevitable. Even as the harsh tone and words were conveying one thing, that softness underneath was always conveying another. But the fact that Reeves can go hard on the arrogance makes that change much more impactful than it would be in another character. Once again, we’re seeing an equal balance of two seemingly opposing qualities, not openly leaning towards one or the other.

There’s also some aspects of the body language Reeves and the animators give to Johnny I’d like to focus in on. While I’m not an actor, nor am I a psychologist, and therefore am likely to have missed things, there were a few things I noticed when going through footage of Johnny in pivotal scenes. (If you spot something I haven’t talked about, please reply or reblog! I’d love to get a back-and-forth discussion going.)

Over and over again, Johnny’s body language has two layers. There’s what I’m calling the ‘douchebag’ layer, which is where Johnny seems insultingly relaxed. The scene when V and Johnny first meet, as well as the scene at the diner, have two great examples of this. Johnny gets into V’s space, but it’s slow, catlike. There’s no urgency when he leans in, nor when he stands over V.

Similarly, at the diner, he tells V he doesn’t want to kill her anymore – something pivotally important for their relationship and the plot - while putting his arms behind his head and his feet up on the table. It communicates, at least on the surface, a real sense of disrespect. ‘I don’t give a shit’, says his posture, ‘whether you hate and fear me or not’. His threatening slowness when they first meet, meanwhile, communicates that he doesn’t think V is a competent opponent. Why should he hurry if he can get her any time?

At least, that’s what it looks like. Take a look from 9:40 onwards here. Sure, he swings his legs up on the table – but not before hurrying into the diner booth and tapping his fingers rapidly on the table. Even when he gets into that relaxed posture, he’s bouncing his leg the entire time. Those catlike movements I talked about when they first meet? If you look from 5:42 here, they’re there. But they’re also interspersed with banging his head incessantly against the wall, pacing back and forth and glitching unpredictably all around the room.

This is where the second layer of Johnny’s body language comes in. Underneath all that casual condescension, he communicates constant, frenetic energy, even anxiety. Even in his default, idle animations, it’s extremely rarely that Johnny communicates real coolness and calm. He covers constantly racing thoughts and feelings with a slick persona.

What this does is very like the hard/soft balance of the voice acting I talked about earlier. Because the ‘douchebag’ layer of body language is the most obvious one, you pick up on that first. But the other layer is there throughout Johnny’s entire arc, and it goes into your brain on a much more subconscious level. Then, when Johnny’s guard does come down, it seems like a natural development of his character while still being a surprise. Once again, there’s that knife-edge balance between two disparate qualities. And for me, attraction always lies in the space between.

There’s also something highly sexual about the way he gets into V’s space when they first meet, the way he stands over her. When first playing the scene where they first meet, it felt like watching the moments before an act of rape. You see him first as he leans over you while you’re still in bed. He beats you to the ground, smashes your head into the window, and towers over you while you’re collapsed on the floor. Given the context of him taking over your body, the overtones are unmistakeable.

But again, crucially, that frantic body language and his lines are the complete opposite of how someone behaves when making the kind of power play that rape is. The pacing, the panicked words and the fact that he’s caught off guard all communicate disempowerment. While it’s still a violent, frightening scene, it’s not a monstrous one.

Why is that relevant to discussing Johnny’s attractiveness, and Johnny/V? Because rape fantasies and male domination are some of the oldest tropes in the book for M/F romantic arcs. Done properly, they play on desires of sexual submission without explicitly acknowledging the kink, depict the eroticism of that liminal space between humanity and monstrosity I talked about earlier and allow you to fantasise about being deeply wanted. Of course, that last bit isn’t a factual depiction of rape in real life. But in the fantasy, the story, the idea of being ravished is partially about being special, being so uniquely attractive that the guy loses all control of himself. If you have a more conservative or repressed view of your sexuality, the ravishment/rape fantasy also allows you to fantasise about sex without seeing yourself as a slut. (This post is a great look at that last idea as applied to the movie Labyrinth, if you want to find out more.)

The idea of sexualised monstrosity is also everywhere in the tropes used to characterise Johnny. He’s a troubled rockstar, an angst-ridden artist who died tragically young, a violent political rebel, part human and part supernatural creature, a charismatic, cocky, seemingly heartless guy, who just might have a heart if you look deep enough. What all these tropes have in common is the promise of both reassuring humanity and fascinating, exciting monstrosity.

Reeves’ and Johnny’s looks combine strangeness and humanity. Reeves’ voice acting moves between soaring arrogance and languid softness. Johnny’s body language combines fear and overconfidence. And the use of age-old romantic tropes in an unexpected context, as well as the use of these specific romantic tropes, knit all the effects of the other things together to create that balance between the human and the strange. He’s unusual enough to be interesting, human enough to seem real and associated with all our cultural symbolism of an attractive man. With all that going on, how could you not find him hot as hell?

But the thing about these tropes is, they’re also so common they’re clichéd. Not just in fandom, but all across Western media and art. So what lifts Johnny and Johnny/V out of being something generic? What makes them so fascinating that I’ve written thousands of words about them? What, in short, makes them different?

That’s what I’ll go into next time.

[Part 1] [Part 2]

[ckret2]

meta about Vox & abuse with a side of Angel

Posting about Vox today reminded me of the thoughts I had a few days ago when the Insta accounts first posted those pics of Val smashing Vox’s face for getting his drink order wrong. So here’s a post mainly about Vox but a little about Angel.

So we've got confirmation that Val has shattered Vox's screen multiple times at this point. But there's been no evidence of violence from Vox toward Val, has there? I think it's all been one-sided. Think mention was made that Vox broke Val’s TV at one point, but as far as I can recall that was a one off—whereas Val has threatened to beat Vox’s face in more than once and done so more than once.

Cut for length but also for mentions of abuse—mainly just about how that abuse could affect the narrative/character arcs rather than discussing it in detail.

We might find out later that Vox, Val, and Vel’s dynamic is intended to be read as three goofy roughhousing villains who beat on each other as slapstick comedy and don’t really suffer any long-term physical/mental consequences—Vox & Val’s shark attack on Vel sure suggests that possibility—but the fact that Val’s violence toward Vox appears to be much more frequent and significant, plus the fact that Val is already being characterized as a very scary very real abuser, definitely leaves open the possibility that we’re supposed to take the actions between VV&V more seriously, too.

And it’s definitely easy to take it seriously. Like, looking at this post:

Look past the “haha TV face man got his TV broke, like a TV” visual gag, and this is a some guy taking a selfie of the black eye/broken nose his boyfriend gave him.

But it would be easy to see even these posts as "cartoony jokey violence" unless you stop and remember oh yeah this cartoon plays closer to real world rules rather than bugs bunny rules. There IS still a chance they could play it off as looney toons violence where we're supposed to go "lol look how awful VV&V are toward each other”—but I'm hoping that they do play it as an actual abusive relationship.

Maybe have them treat it like cartoony funny violence. Maybe have them telling themselves that this is all funny, it’s all games, if you’re tough enough then a little thing like a broken screen doesn’t REALLY hurt—and you ARE tough, right, aren’t you Vox?? Aren’t you some big bad overlord?? You’re not some fuckin loser who gets butthurt over a broken screen, are you?? It’d be really easy for the three of them to tell themselves/each other that how they treat each other—especially how Val treats Vox—is fine... and then for the show to peel off the surface layer of their clowning around and point out the damage that’s really being done.

As far as what this means for Vox’s character, I’m interested in the possibility. Vox is currently slated to be an endgame villain for the series. I'm liking the implication that Vox can be this big powerful nigh-unstoppable villain... but is also still just as vulnerable as anyone else to being suckered by an abuser. That's an unexpected but intriguing avenue for character depth.

And if they're willing to give Angel an in depth character arc over being abuse at Val’s hands, then it would feel really weird if they don’t give Vox the same treatment. Not necessarily an arc that ends in character growth, not necessarily one that that concludes with him getting free and/or getting on the road to redemption—particularly if he’s gonna be an endgame villain—but at least one that takes it seriously and explores how that abuse affects his character. It could even make him a good foil for Angel, showing how the two of them handle it/are affected by it differently. (And if canon doesn’t give us that arc, I’ve got two hands and a keyboard and an AO3 account, and that is a threat.)

Saw a theory that this is recent treatment, that Val’s moved on to a fresh target now that Angel is out of reach—but I don’t think he is out of reach. Val is still demanding money from Angel at the start of the pilot episode; and it’s hard to tell from the “Addict” video what’s present day and what’s flashback, but between the insta posts around its release and the video itself, it seems like the dance is definitely present day and the abuse/assault is probably present day. So Angel isn’t out of reach, so Val didn’t “move on” to another target. Which probably means this is just how he always treats Vox.

tbh I’m, like, immediately ten times more invested in Vox/Val than I was before these posts solely out of a desire to get Vox out of that relationship lmao. And/or the desire for Vox to pull his big square head out of his ass, look at Angel, and go "oh wait I've been looking down on him but I should probably be, like... empathizing with him."

I mean you've gotta figure. They move in close enough circles that they've GOT to have seen the results of Val's treatment on each other.

But they apparently haven't ended up allies because—what reason? Maybe Vox looking at Angel and going "Well it doesn't matter what happens to HIM, he's just Val's pet stripper. Our relationship is different, Val and me are equals. We just roughhouse. That's all it is." Maybe Angel looking at Vox and going "Well he's on the same power level as Val, he could obviously just leave if it was bothering him. But he doesn't act like he's bothered, so he must not be," coupled with maybe not even consciously recognizing shattered screens as, y'know, an injury.

Or maybe they’re jealous of each other because they don’t see the full extent of how Val treats them. “What’s Angel complaining about, at least Val doesn’t beat his face in.” “What’s Vox complaining about, it’s not like he’s gotta dance for Val to pay rent.” Either because Val keeps them from getting to know each other too well, or because they’re both currently too emotionally immature to work out how to empathize with each other.

Or maybe Angel does recognize Vox’s situation but doesn't feel like he's got room to reach out when it's VOX, who oozes power out of every port and who gives off the impression that he would be violently offended rather than grateful if someone suggested he's any sort of victim.

Maybe part of Angel’s redemption arc is going to involve recognizing how bad Vox has got it, deciding that even a douchebag like Vox deserves the same chance at salvation that a douchebag like Angel got, and trying to invite him into the hotel to get away from Val.

And maybe part of Vox’s trajectory toward becoming the final villain will be rejecting Angel’s compassion, because he’s clinging so hard to this idea that he’s only “safe” as long as he’s the most goddamn powerful sinner in hell that he can’t bring himself to let go of the lie he tells himself about his own supposed invincibility, even when somebody’s reaching out and offering to help him.

(... All that said, I’m still waiting on standby with my keyboard and my AO3 account, fully prepared to write that “Vox goes to the hotel and now the healing can begin” fic.)