#there's nothing harvey wouldn't have given him

[heartsuits]

[stardew-requests]

Can I get headcanons for the Bachelors and a pregnant farmer? ((Or a link to a post that you've made about the same thing that I really feel like you've made that I still can't remember))

Nothing makes my heart happier than the Stardew bachelors as dads! Thanks for the request Anon!

This one's long post! I put it under the cut!

Alex: In some regard, he still views himself as a teenager, so upon learning that the farmer was pregnant he had a moment of panic. Okay, it was more than just a moment. "What are we going to do? My grandma's going to be so disappointed!" He'd say, pacing back a forth. The farmer would just shake their head. "Alex, we're married. I don't think it'll be much of a scandal". It took some time to really register that he was going to be a father, but when it finally clicked a few weeks in, he begins to get excited. He takes initiative on prepping the nursery and goes above and beyond with helping on the farm. At his core, he's determined to be that father he never had; the one that every kid deserves.

Elliott: He is extremely attentive, almost excessively. Every need, every craving, every appointment or exam, he's there without hesitation. The farmer never has to doubt whether or not he'll be there, because he was fully involved from the moment they told him they were expecting. It had always been a dream of his to be a father, and it had finally come to fruition. So he was there for every moment of the pregnancy, good and bad. And the moment he held that baby for the first time? No painting or song or any piece of art was ever as beautiful as that moment.

Harvey: Being a doctor, Harvey was completely ready, medically speaking. However, no amount of medical school or field work could've prepared him for the intense emotions that overcame him the moment he found out he was going to be a father. Pure joy flooded over him, but also crippling worry. What if he panicked during the delivery? What if something went wrong? How could he live with himself if something did go wrong and he wasn't able to help? The farmer, while worried to a lesser degree, became the rock he needed to be both an attentive doctor and a caring husband. And, of course, he excelled at both. 

Sam: Poor Sam didn't see this one coming. The pregnancy was a surprise, and the farmer was overjoyed, but Sam had no idea how to react at first. Of course he was ecstatic; he'd often daydream of being a father. Taking care of Vincent all those years had given him a real paternal touch. But he was also nervous. What would his mom say? Would his dad be disappointed in him? Would he grow apart from his friends? The situation took some getting used to, but after he overcame the initial shock he let the excitement take over. He went to every single checkup with the farmer and bought LOADS of baby things to prepare the nursery. And you believe he absolutely spoils that baby. 

Sebastian: In his younger years, Sebastian fully believed he never wanted to be a father. He didn't think he was cut out for it. But after meeting the farmer, the idea began to grow on him. He liked the idea of being a stay-at-home dad on the farm. So when the farmer told him the news, he immediately knew he was ready to fall right into the role. Not having his own dad around (and the coldness he received from Demetrius all his life) made him dead-set on being the most attentive and loving man he could be. For both the baby and the farmer.

Shane: Shane had convinced himself that he'd never get that chance to be a father, with the exception of Jas of course, and he'd come to terms with that long ago. It was only after recovery and the blooming relationship with the farmer that he dared to imagine the possibility of a child of his own. When the time came that the farmer told him of their pregnancy, they were worried that he wouldn't react well. Though he'd come a long way in his recovery, he was still fragile. But the farmer wouldn't have guessed that he'd bury his head in his hands and become choked up. "Shane?" They'd ask carefully, worried he was going to break down. But he just shakes his head, looks up at the farmer, and says "I'm so happy".

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Male spouses if the farmer miscarries their baby? Both their feelings about it and how they help the farmer after. ❤️

This is a pretty heavy topic, so everyone - be careful if you're going to read this headcanon (there's nothing hardcore here, but still just in case). Thanks for the question, dear anon. 💖

SDV bachelors with a AFAB!Farmer spouse who suffered a miscarriage:

⚠️ WARNING: Miscarriage, depression, angst, mention of past alcohol abuse, lots of hurt/comfort.

_________________________________________

Sebastian doesn't pressure Farmer in any way, and lets them lie in bed all day. To be honest, he would have covered himself with a blanket as well, trying to hide from reality, but Sebby can't afford to leave Farmer in that state. His whole family is going through this pain as they do, and more than ever, Robin is offering advice and so needed support to his son. Even Maru and Demetrius, who he wasn't close to, have given him full support and help. And Sebastian will do anything to help his spouse.

Without wasting a moment, Elliott took Farmer to the clinic after their complaints of feeling unwell. The writer was standing near the registration desk when Maru with tears came out to him and told him that Farmer had miscarried. Elliott simply fell into a chair and turned paler than death. And still, Elliott mustered all his strength to comfort his crying spouse. The writer vowed that he would be with Farmer in both happiness and sorrow, and he would never leave them.

Shane was devastated by the news. Their baby... He'd been through it pretty badly, and so had Farmer. Shane's hand was already reaching for alcohol to dull the unbearable pain, but he quickly came to his senses and stopped himself. No, Shane won't let his old habit take over, especially when his spouse had suffered such grief and needed him the most. They'll try to get back to normal together, crying at night and hugging, but they'll get through it. Shane loves them and won't leave Farmer alone.

Harvey's heart clenched with fear when Farmer woke him up in the night and screamed that bed was covered in blood. Fortunately, the doctor took home everything he needed from the clinic in advance, so that if anything - immediately provide help to Farmer. Harvey had prepared for everything, even the miscarriage scenario, but prayed to Yoba that it wouldn't happen. But... it did happen. Harvey wouldn't leave his spouse's side for a minute, and would be there for them to help them recover - physically and mentally.

Alex hadn't even had a chance to get dressed, but he had already picked up Farmer in his arms and, with the speed of a bullet, carried them to Harvey's clinic, shouting about the emergency. But no matter how fast the athlete ran, it still happened. Alex is about to burst into tears. He feels so helpless, not knowing how to comfort Farmer. But his grandparents will help him and Farmer with their grief and get back to their old life. In the meantime, Alex will do everything in his power to help the Farmer with their pain.

Sam's whole world turned upside down in one day. Yesterday he was expecting a child with his beautiful Farmer, and today... Today his heart has broken into a thousand shards. Sam's spouse is choking with sobs, his mom is being comforted by his dad, and Vincent, terrified, doesn't know what's going on. But this time Sam acted like a real man and calmed everyone down at once. Afterwards, he asked to be left alone with Farmer. Sam himself is trembling and wants to cry, but for the sake of Farmer and their well-being, he will become their so needed support.

[callistoscope]

a healthy venture

Summary: As most know, sexual experimentation is all apart of a healthy relationship! It just so happens to coincide with a very awkward relationship for a couple like Harvey and Clarice, however.

Pairing: Cringefail(Clarice) x Harvey. (if you know you know.)

Word Count: 7.4k. I know, it’s ridiculous.

Warnings: Smut, smut, smut. AWKWARD smut. Takes a hot minute to get there, but when it’s there, it is THERE. The sexual experimentation in question is PEGGING with not much else, so….

a/n: this is silly and very crackfic-adjacent but also So Serious to me. also, yeah I guess they’re in a relationship, but early stages? probably had sex before this? Idk, whatever makes the most sense. sorry if the writing style comes off kinda cringe sometimes!!! I really tried to connect the writing style to what I imagine cringefail’s thought process would be like. and it might generally come off more amateurish since it’s been a hot minute since I’ve written. have mercy pls I swear I was so much better at writing like a year ago I’m getting back into the swing of things </3. If you have no idea who cringefail is or why’s she being paired with Harvey, she’s from @clarisinne ‘s comic!!! check it out!!!!!!(peer pressuring you). also @cowboyweevil since u asked me to tag u!

——

Clarice will be the first to admit that her life is consistently in tatters, and more often than not, it's her own hand that tears up that life the most. She had never been the type to have a sturdy head atop her unsteady shoulders— more the type to awkwardly headbutt into every problem and success that dared to beseech her. Both intentionally and unintentionally, sometimes simultaneously.

One thing she does know, a tidbit of information carved so deep into the recesses of her mind that even dementia wouldn't rob her of this simple fact— her sister was a fucking menace.

Clarice could have given her sister some semblance of underserved grace, could have said she wasn't so bad, if only that's where her bad qualities stopped. But Mars's abhorrent behavior was made all the more pesky by how relentless she was.

Her sister was as relentless as the damn splinter still wedged into Clarice's foot, a recent injury she had been careful to make sure Harvey wasn't privy to.

Harvey.

This was all his fault, really. For such a highly respected doctor, for whom which his town had only the most upstanding of opinions of him, beholding him as kind and responsible, Clarice feels safe in saying that her health had went down a steep decline since the moment. . . this happened. Since the moment this strikingly warm, gooey feeling coagulated in her heart, not unlike that of a fatal blood clot. Her life is effectively cut in half from the amount of stress she's experience since moving to this town. Her life force is visibly draining away, day by day, she's sure.

And her darling sister has the nerve to kick her while she's already down. Escalating the gradual deterioration of Clarice's health like the terminal illness only Mars can be like.

Even now, her sister giggles behind her hand in midst the autumn wind, brimming with an audacity that makes Clarice seethe. She has to bite back the urge to chuck her full watering can at her.

Casually, her sister leans down to pluck a pumpkin from the ground, holding it proudly in her arms. A smile plays on her face, one Clarice does not like one bit. "You know... I've been thinking—"

"Stop doing that."

"I've been thinking—" she trots along, happy as a clam. Content as a mischievous cat might be more apt. "If Harvey doesn't step up more, you might really have to take the reins. In a way you don't expect."

Stubbornly, Clarice stays off to the side. She crosses her arms, clutching the watering can high up in protest. Her job this morning was to water whatever crops weren't already covered by their sprinklers, and she was feeling like her labor wasn't deserved the more this conversation carried on. Nothing of substance had been said yet, but Clarice's ears pick up on the lilt in her little sister's voice.

Said sister finally shoots her a cursory glance over her shoulder. "Really! I'm just trying to help you out!" The laughter in her voice says otherwise. "Because, honest to God, the more I think about it— the more plausible it becomes."

Clarice's eyes narrow, body tense in anticipation for the nearing punchline. "... What?" However hesitant, the word ebbs out all the same.

Clarice can see her sister's figure trembling already, frame wracked with inexplicable mirth, and she already wants to sink into the dirt. "Because—" she starts, unhelpfully, voice warbling, "I'm sorry, but that is the exact kind of man who'd wanna get pegged."

Mars's voice grows high-pitched, wavering, and the cackle she lets out would rival a witch. Clarice can hardly focus on that sound, her ears ringing so loud it blocks everything else. Pegging. What the fuck?

Her face grows hot, and it takes conscious effort to not pass out right onto the dirt ground. Whether it be from the thought alone or merely from the fact that her younger sister thought this made for acceptable conversation, Clarice can't be sure. Before Clarice can even hope to respond, the other is rattling off like she's finally been given an excuse to.

"And— and listen! I'm not judging! Good for Harvey! Good for you! As long as everything is safe, sane, and consensual, right?" She bites the words out a bit, trying not to laugh too hard, nearly dropping the pumpkin.

"Stop." Clarice chokes, half plea half threat, blood rushing through her ears. Her mind is fraying at the edges, her brain rotting in record time. She's just starting to stomp her way over to her bastard sister.

"All I'm saying is— I know an online shop that'll ship here, yeah? Sells strap-ons, and has good variety. Pretty quick, too! Poor Harvey won't have to wait very long."

Clarice's free hand just reaches up to claw at her scalp in mortified agony, freezing for one sickening moment. She's on the path to getting her bearings and cursing Mars out like she never has before. Her mind is just on the verge of rewiring itself into proper working order. Like most things in her life, however, Clarice's life never stops at one bad thing.

"Um."

Harvey's voice is small, but the effect it has on her body is not. Clarice's body goes stiff as a rod, and the awkwardly loud clearing of his throat finally coaxes her into snapping her head back to look at him. So hard that one of her braids whips against her throat. Harvey stays where he is, loitering around the entrance of the farm with an odd rigidity to his face.

Clarice's body proves untrustworthy, and the hand holding the watering can goes limp. It's the moment after the tepid metal slips from her fingers that the gravity of her mistake hits her.

It really does hit her— the hefty watering swishes loudly as it lands straight on her foot with the accuracy of an Olympic gymnast.

"Fuck!" Clarice all but howls, stumbling back and promptly tipping back onto the dirt with an equally pained shout. It's a hard fall that ends with her gaze blearily aimed up at the blue sky, her ears picking up the sounds of two pairs of shoes scuttling up their respective pathways.

Of course. Of course it was the foot she had the splinter in.

——

Of all the sexual escapades both her waking and unconscious mind liked to torture herself with by envisioning… Clarice will admit that pegging isn't one of them. Not to say that her thoughts are incapable of running along the more adventurous paths she catches herself pointedly trying to ignore, but it simply had never come up.

Until now, at the violation of her coveted free will, at her sister's hands. She wishes all the terrible things for Mars, sometimes.

And she really shouldn't be mulling over her sister's words seriously, but her mind is deliberately caught on the thought.

... How does Clarice even feel about the concept? Even vaguely, if she just distantly ponders over what exactly that would entail? Maybe she feels some sexual curiosity she'll get to sating one of these days, should Harvey give it the okay?

If Clarice lets her mind do more than skim over the topic, however... the honest reality of what such an activity would bring is enough for her to be content to shelf it out of sheer mortification, never to see the light of day. Harvey, as always, is a different case. Adds integers into the equation that forces Clarice to reconsider everything, to reach for a different conclusion she otherwise never would have. She's forced into growth with him, sickeningly enough.

More annoyingly, she's forced into tending to herself in areas where she usually would shrug and walk it off. As soon as the hard, metal, heavy watering can had crashed onto her foot, the strange tension dispersed throughout the farm had vaporized on Harvey's part. Harvey had been painfully normal to her for those few minutes. Fussing over her, taking her carefully by the arm and coaxing her into her own house, insisting he check her foot for any major damage.

Mars had the social grace to stay outside, and Clarice prays she has enough to feel ashamed. She's knocked out of that thought when Harvey cautiously presses down on the top of her foot, and she promptly hisses.

"Sorry, sorry," he says, mouth flitting to a little frown. Harvey looks up at her from where he's taken a knee in front of her to closely inspect her foot, those brown eyes of his more like puppy dog eyes. "Just want to make sure nothing's fractured." Despite his words, he presses down at a different area of her foot, and Clarice's leg twitches with the instinct to kick him.

Her mind continues to fluctuate between nauseating panic and increasing irritation at Harvey's continued poking and prodding. It all culminates when he leans back, seeming satisfied with his work, meeting her eyes another time.

Abruptly, his eyes widen and his gaze scatters back to the floor, and that's all the confirmation Clarice needs to know exactly what place Harvey's mind goes back to. She'd had hope he'd forgotten about it, but that hope is thoroughly dashed and thrown back to drown in the river.

"So. Um..." he trails back into silence just as rapidly as he starts to speak, a palpable tension fracturing any temporary peace that had settled. Harvey shuffles, a stiffness settling over his body that she notices. It's the soft blush that peeks over his ears that does Clarice in, an innocent seashell pink that makes her eyes dart to the opposite direction of the room in deflection. Her hands claw shakily at the leather of the couch.

"Listen... I know it's technically none of my business, and it wasn't exactly meant for my ears—" Harvey lets out a labored breath. From the corner of her eye, Clarice can see his head tilt up, before hesitantly bobbling back down. He seems torn on where he should be looking. "And, uh— I didn't exactly hear everything? So, uh..." he says, voice wavering at the end. Clarice chances a glance, only to see a bright red blooming over the slopes of his cheeks, hands clenching at the pant leg of the knee he's supporting his weight on.

"I'm really sorry if I'm misunderstanding, but... how exactly did that topic come up?" He squirms a little from where he's kneeling, as if even just saying such vague words wired a shot of adrenaline straight through his nervous system. Clarice can relate, even if she knows what he's feeling is infinitesimal compared to the amount of adrenaline coursing through her.

Steam might start coming out through her ears if her mind ponders on any of this any longer. "... My sister brought it up." she mumbles, voice strained. Clarice brings her hands up, rubbing her temples, her cheeks nearly scorching her palms. Apologies, insults directed at her sister, humiliated blubbering, all sit at the tip of her tongue, but she just can't manage it. It's more like there's a stone in her mouth, on the verge of suffocating her, and her lips feel dementedly stitched together. "She thought you'd— I don't know. You know." It feels like flames lick up her cheeks then, and she winces with grief at the bitter loss of normalcy regarding their relationship. Who is she kidding? That ship had long since passed.

"Ah," Harvey actually scratches at the back of his neck, and something about that makes her want to scream in pain. It's such a stereotypical display of anxiety, and it makes those gooey feelings spring up like unwanted weeds along the sidewalk of her heart. It's endearing, damn him. "So, you're not...?"

Harvey eyes trail back up, she can feel them on her body before she can see them. Her eyes meet his in quick succession, and she feels herself jolt as if she's touched a live wire. He himself seems a bit frozen in comparison, but there's a glint in his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed, looking uncertain yet decidedly... curious. Flustered and nervous, but not disgusted.

Clarice jolts again, eyes going wide, hands falling from her head. She probably tears a few red hairs out in the process, but doesn't have the presence of mind to care when her mind is racing a mile a minute. "Oh God, you are into it." she blurts, bewildered for a multitude of reasons.

Any bravado Harvey seems to have procured promptly breaks from under him, his head bowing down as he's left to pick up the pieces. "I didn't say that!" he insists shakily, sweeping a hand through his hair.

"It's just— if that was something you were into, I wanted to..." Harvey's voice dies, swiftly fishing his hand out of his hair. "I... didn't want you to feel ashamed about it, is all. Or like you couldn't talk to me about it." he finishes with an exhale, his face brimming with a vibrant red.

Clarice swallows, shifting on the couch with an antsy energy. "... How do you feel about it?" she forces out, more stiffly than she'd like. Her methods of communication were never as smooth or clear-cut as she envisioned. Moments like these only exacerbated that flaw. "You can... talk to me, too." She cringes. She sounds a little robotic.

Yet, Clarice had promised herself to try and be more... open, about any such topics with Harvey. To be considerate and hold his feelings with higher priority than following through on her track record and waving them away. Instead of regressing into the skittish fawn she is at heart and dashing away.

Harvey fidgets before slowly rising to his feet, face still red as a rose. "I haven't thought about it much, until now. But honestly, I don't feel negatively about it." Something shifts in his expression, fills his face with unyielding tension, and his eyes shyly flit to the other side of the room.

"Morbid curiosity is probably the most accurate emotion for what I'm feeling." It's said with a weight, as though he's confessing some grand sin to a noble higher priest. "It was clearly just meant to all be jokes, though, so the last thing I'd do is expect anything out of it! Not to say I even really want anything out of it."

She sucks in a deep, steadying breath.

"It's okay if you do." Clarice's face flames as soon as she dares to utter such words. She gestures awkwardly with her hands, body more akin to lifeless metal than flesh and blood. "Haha! Sex—" she chokes, abruptly restarting the sentence.

"Sexual— Sexual experimentation is just a part of a healthy relationship! And we're healthy!" Smiling tightly, the inflection of her voice comes out more manic, a little frantic. She bumps her elbow against him, harder than she means if the wince that stretches over Harvey's face has anything to say about it.

"And it's normal! We're normal, and we can do this! Right, doctor?" Clarice grits her teeth a little, elbowing him again, desperate.

"Y- Yeah! Hah, definitely!" Harvey laughs nervously, rubbing the side of his stomach. "But, we should probably discuss this more, if you're really being serious—"

"— Harvey," Her face is promptly buried in her hands, unable to even cast a glance in his direction. "I'm at my limit. Please."

Another anxious little laugh bubbles out of him, pulling at a loose thread hanging from his coat. "Of course. Yes, that's, whatever makes you comfortable. We can talk about this later."

——

The simple fact of the matter is that they do. It's a verbal scuttle that seesaws back into Clarice conversationally dragging her feet, as most conversation between them winds up being on her end. How Harvey puts up with it is beyond her— hell, Harvey himself is beyond her.

Kind, wonderful Harvey mystifies her as much as he begrudgingly enchants. He is some strange, glittering galaxy that perplexes her with his intent to be swept into her chaotic gravity. Terrifyingly considerate, practically falling over himself with every other word when he insists that they don't have to do this, he wants her to be comfortable, he only wants what she wants—

And... What does Clarice want? The question echoes in her mind, the answer echoing in kind.

To be sated.

This curiosity, it stifles her in its attempt to persuade her. It sits in her chest, leaves residue when it attempts to glue itself in her head. Clarice had waved it off, tried to ignore it, but the remains fester there. The rot of the idea is only fertilizer, and ultimately, it only grows. She's curious, and she's always been one to explore what springs that emotion in her. For the most part.

And when she finally wrings out that honesty out of herself, Harvey flusters, but moves with the natural pull that such a confession swings a conversation into: what now? What's the plan?

There's a list of questions that are steadily answered, ticked off the mental list she's sure Harvey had conjured up in his head. Where? Definitely your apartment, I'd kill you and myself if my sister heard. Okay. Uh, how would we get the... equipment? Ship it to your apartment. My sister would never let me live it down if she got even a hint of it.

Many similar questions and answers filtered out amongst them. Harvey makes some timid remark about doing his own personal research regarding how he should prepare himself, and the conversation is effectively capped off for a few weeks. It's the persistent elephant in the room, one that grows inexplicably bigger one day in later Autumn. Finally, after some surface level digging that more exposed how deeply it burdened Harvey's mind rather than exposed any real concern from Clarice, he admitted that that the equipment came. 'It,' he'd referred to it so aptly.

It. It came. There wasn't much more to plan than the main event itself. Not much more to do other than biting the bullet and doing it. With the grand exception being thinking about it, a crime which Clarice finds herself exuberantly guilty of. The last few weeks had given her heartburn, her thoughts becoming expertly nomadic in the way they traveled from normal and innocent to salient and crude. Stray thoughts that clustered rapidly in one great moment of imagination before popping and deflating like a balloon. Leaving her flustered in midst her daily chores, normalcy strained for the rest of the day.

What would Harvey say? What would he sound like, how would it feel? How would Clarice feel, really, to be the one giving in such a way?

She didn't have to wonder much longer. Even still, her curiosities still ring so loud in her head as she stands at the door of the clinic, heart running at such a magnitude that a hummingbird's would pale in comparison. She clutches her to go bag in an iron grip, the reason why she had a to go bag making her body all the hotter.

Clarice's mind whirrs when the door opens, and it doesn't stop until they reach Harvey's humble apartment towards the top, and even then, it only dulls. She isn't even sure what sort of pleasantries they exchanged, too strung up in her thoughts to be in anything other than on autopilot.

"We don't have to do this," Harvey drills the notion yet again into her head as he is bending down at the side of his bed, hand grasping blindly at the space under the bed frame. "Really. We could just sit in for a normal night. I wouldn't mind any."

Clarice gathers herself, though her efforts are futile when it's like trying to keep water in her hands. "I would." she bites out, sucking in a breath through her teeth with a whistling sound as she gracelessly lets her bag drop to the floor. "I want to. We're doing this." she says, surprising herself with the shaky, albeit no less sincere, conviction in her voice.

"... As long as, you know, you're still down with it." she falters, twiddling with the sleeve of her jacket absently. Her gaze returns to Harvey when she hears a sliding sound, like something being dragged across the floor.

"I am!" Harvey breathes, voice wavering. He isn't looking at her, instead looking at the box he'd apparently stashed under his bed. "... I just like to be sure about these sorts of things." He stands back up with the box in tow, presenting it to her as he steps closer and closer. His face is already flushing, though it's a soft dainty pink that she finds all too fitting on him.

As her gaze roves over the box, it is not a dainty pink that seizes her face. On the white box is an understandably crude picture of a dildo, a strap-on she thinks belatedly, with words in varying fonts spewed around it. Reviews, the technical name of this model, the brand. Interestingly enough, it seems Harvey bought a set, her eyes pick up. A strap-on and a harness.

It hits her all at once, and she makes a sound that is part laugh and part cry. She's incredulous, unable to conceive everything that is happening, the things that click into place. "God, you hid it? Under your bed?" she mumbles, the humor of the situation washing over her as she lets out a raspy laugh. Harvey, the highly respected doctor of Pelican Town, hiding a strap-on under his bed.

Harvey makes an affronted noise, though his voice trembles a little with laughter when he weakly replies, "Yes. It— I didn't have room for it in my drawer." Bashfully, he gestures to said drawer, the one next to his colossal bookcase.

Clarice snorts, and the tension eases. Where this is all going, where the current is taking them, doesn't seem so scary for a moment. Harvey smiles, still a little timid, and starts to open up one of the flaps of the box. "Is it really that funny?"

"I don't know. Probably not." Clarice admits in a weak voice of her own, swallowing as he moves back the layers of the box. It's one of those types, weirdly shiny and like plastic more than the traditional brown box. That tension fills back in slightly when her eyes catch sight of it. Well, not yet, it's in a protective pouch— but nothing can really hide the distinct shape that the fabric really only enhances.

It only takes a moment for Harvey to grasp it, holding it in a limp grip as he pointedly looks at the other contents of the box, ears tipped in red. "And, ah, hm," Awkwardly, he moves the pouch into the curve of his elbow, the back of his arm holding it against his body. His free arm fishes out the harness more preparedly, touching it less like a dead fish. "Here's... the harness."

It takes a moment to realize that he's holding it out to her, waiting for her to take it. Clarice shuffles with nervous energy, taking it and holding it stiffly away from her body. As if any making any further contact with it will scorch her. She already burns, and it's in the most humiliating way. An uncomfortable heat bread-crumbing its way lower and lower, with plenty of pauses. "Should I... put it on?"

Harvey makes a sound, lips parting as if to say something. They only close again, and she can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. He only nods, abruptly turning around. Only then does he find his voice. "Probably, yes."

Respectively, both parties begin to disrobe, Clarice starting with her shoes and socks and whittling away at the rest. A part of her tries to be neat about it, wants to be, but quickly loses that train of thought as soon as she has it. Anxiety gnaws at her the whole way through, until there's a messy pile of clothes sitting next to her and a weight in her chest. And the harness tightly in her grasp. Clarice rubs the fabric between thumb and forefinger curiously, sighing as she starts to journey of putting it on.

And a journey it is, anxiety quickly becoming secondary to the frustration that shuffles to the forefront of her mind. Trying to figure out what could be adjusted, how to hold certain parts of the harness while she slides it further up her body, it was a bit of a nightmare. Clarice adjusts the position of the O-ring when she's decently certain it's secure enough, pulling the adjustable straps against her body tighter afterwards just for extra security.

Clarice exhales a slow breath as she turns, wiping sweat from her brow. Only to find Harvey watching, naked from the waist down, his dark eyes a little wide and glazed, clutching the hem of his shirt. He jolts, hand fidgeting with the hem, as if unable to decide if he should take it off or not. "I'm so sorry, I just—"

"Were you staring at me?" Clarice asks, mortification budding at every nerve in her body in hot sparks.

"I wanted to make sure you weren't struggling with the harness!" Harvey says defensively, slipping his shirt off in one bold movement. "Because, if you were, I did look into it. I... should have mentioned that." His voice grows calm again, face ripening to more of a raspberry pink. Predictably, he folds his shirt up with practiced ease, almost more of a nervous tic than him actively wanting to.

Her eyes absently wander over his body, only to trail down harshly even at something as simple as the look of his bare chest. Clarice catches blurry snapshots at every other part of his body, but her mind is too scrambled to attempt to study the details.

"Should I..." she hears Harvey swallow this time, him almost making a gurgling noise at the back of his throat. "Should I get onto my back?" he continues, voice edging on squeaky.

"No," she blurts, shaking her head frenetically. She can't. There's many things she can do right now, is willing to, wants to do, but having Harvey on his back under her during this, helpless and pliant... she just can't do that right now. It stirs something in her, sure, something she may want to get to know more intimately in due time. Maybe. But not now. "I'm getting on my back. You're going to have to just— figure it out."

She hugs her body, wobbling over to his bed with the intention to plop down in a show of dominance, only to pause. The pouch lays on his bed, the fabric still doing absolutely nothing to disfigure the phallic shape. That's all it takes to make her sweat again, that anxiety of hers rising from its grave as she picks it up much like he had carried it previously. Underlining it all is that tailspin of anticipation, lying snugly under any negative emotions that threaten to impede the event.

"I mean you can just, you know," she stammers, eyes bulging at her own thoughts. "You know." Her eyes avoid him, digging her fingers into the opening and tugging it open, looking away when she grasps at the flared base. Clarice has no hope of keeping her eyes open as she slides it out of the silk, immediately fluttering closed just upon seeing purple. Prying her eyes back open, she forces a study session of sorts, discerning any texture she can make out by sight. It seems... smooth, not sculpted to be very indicative of an actual dick besides the base shape. More like an artist's under drawing.

Harvey is staring at it just as intently, with bated breath, hands clenching into fists. "That's okay, I can do that. I just, before that, I'll need to... prep myself. I can't just—" His hand lurches up to adjust his glasses shakily, that scarlet Harvey has been valiantly fighting off spilling on his cheeks like paint. "I-I need to use my fingers first."

Clarice's eyes aren't beckoned away from the toy at that, but her brain fizzles. It flickers and flames, a part of her screaming to watch and another pleading to cover her face the whole time. You'll never survive if you watch, it pleads.

"... Okay." she chokes, because what other response is there? "I'm also going to... prepare." Her voice sounds so small, even to her own ears. With a trembling hand, Clarice twists the toy in her grip, carefully holding the flared base awkwardly to her pelvis, trying to figure out how to thread the base into the O-ring. Harvey tries to pipe up helpfully, blabbering nervously about what to do, but shuts up when Clarice begs out, "Please shut up."

Harvey is fumbling with something, and once Clarice ensures the strap-on is slotted in correctly, she turns to see him drawing out a little bottle of what she can only assume is lube. He opens it in a diligent twist, coating his fingers quickly and wincing. She notes how he seems to focus on covering two fingers above all else, and that flame stirs again. More like a spark, hesitant but hungry for a chance to ignite.

She stiffly sits and lays on the bed, in such a way that her legs splay out over the side of the bed, soles of her feet touching the wood. Harvey passes the lube to her, pressing it to her stomach. "You're... You should probably use this, too." he says, face flushing a red that Clarice's own rushes to imitate. Harvey sits, but does not lay, in the same way she does. Except he props a leg up on the bed, spreading himself open, pressing that knee to his stomach as he settles next to her. She decides to be grateful she can't see anything from this angle, only his back, everything else too far in her peripheral to make anything particularly lewd out.

That gratitude is a fleeting present, for she is suddenly made intimately aware of the moment he must edge a finger into himself by the way his breath hitches. Clarice can't not notice, it's such a sharp sound that resonates in her ears— the leg up on the bed twitches. The bed creaks, and the spark ignites like a firework.

She brings a hand up to her mouth as her eyes betray her, her own thighs twitching with want for relief as she scours his back. Sees his shoulder blades flex when he must push in deep, loosen when he pulls out shallow. Harvey's very breath is trembling, his hips attempting to buck, but only succeeding in a meek roll with the way he's scrunched up.

"I'm so sorry if this is weird," he says, voice muffled and breathy. He must be covering his mouth with his free hand, too. Clarice can't say anything, especially not when he sighs as a tremor wracks through his body. His hips give another pitiful roll, his head lolling back for a brief second.

"H-Have you done this before?" she asks, perhaps too banally. It's just too practiced, he falls into each motion with too much ease. Experience. Her ears are reacting that way to sound again, any noise muted, as if underwater.

Harvey whines quietly, though the sound reeks more of humiliation than bliss. Clarice's body reacts the same regardless, shifting on the bed fruitlessly. She can feel herself pulsing, and she thinks she's gonna pass out if she focuses on that facet of this situation any more than she needs to.

"... Not before any of this came up. Just over the past few weeks." he manages shakily, "Just... just to see what I thought. To see if I liked it."

The bed creaks particularly loud with one swipe of his pelvis, and the sound he makes does sound more pleased. "Didn't want to make you go through any of this if I didn't even like it."

"... And you like it?"

Clarice buries her face in her hand then, when the silence stretches out a bit too long. Every part of her burns. Every nerve is roaring fire, and it's suffocating. What could even relieve her, she doesn't know.

"... Yeah. It was— it's nice." Harvey gasps out, a flurry of panicked breaths escaping him. He's trying to catch his breath, body going tense as wood. He tries to exhale, some other noise laden in it. "I think— I think I'm ready."

Harvey's arm looks disfigured as he moves it from this angle, the movement sputtering to a quickness that slows just as soon. His head tilts as he wipes sweat from his forehead with his free hand, seeming to completely pause. it's confirmed when he rests the other hand on his leg.

Her mind is caught in a constant loop of What do I do? and I don't know for a few seconds. For once, Clarice's body is dependable and rational, a hand grabbing for the small plastic bottle on her stomach. It's like all sentience has seeped out of her ears, her mind going blank as she pumps the strap-on absently, making the toy nice and slick. Apparently, she’s already poured it out on her hand.

The blankness in her head abruptly swirls into color, thoughts, visions, when Harvey turns his body. He gets onto his knees, ushering himself closer to her body, but not bridging any actual distance. His warm skin and body sit plainly out of reach.

Harvey hums plaintively, and Clarice can't even begin to explore what that could mean.

"You're really sure you're okay with this?"

A deep sigh reverberates throughout the room. Clarice leans back on the bed, pressing her hand harder against her face. "Yes," she groans out, agonized. "I'll tell you if I'm not feeling it."

Harvey lets out another heavy breath, though it sounds less burdened. "Alright. In that case then, I'll, uh, I need to..."

"Okay." Clarice says, high pitched, pulling her hand quickly away from the strap-on. It's weird, wearing this thing. She can feel the phantom sensations of where it tilts, now that her hand isn't there to direct it straight.

"Okay," Harvey echoes her, similar down straight to the tone, the almost squeaky way he says it. "I'll... try not to put too much of my weight on you."

"Thanks." Clarice merely whines, wilting into the mattress.

Harvey shuffles over, bed creaking with every new placement of his knees jutting into the bed. There's a moment where the anticipation builds, becomes something tangible and unbearably thick. The tension squeezes against itself, then loosens, like a heartbeat. Like it's a real, pulsing thing.

Harvey places a hand on the bed, around her side, gripping his covers tight as he murmurs apologies. Throws a leg over her waist as his other hand braces near the other side of her, releasing a shaky breath. He keeps himself up on his knees, looking down at himself and grasping at the strap-on feverishly by the base, holding it more in a line. Clarice doesn't know what expression he's making, what expression she's making, all too busy covering her face. Risking glances through the spaces of her fingers. It's all happening simultaneously too fast and tortuously slow.

"Alright," Harvey exhales, adjusting his knees one more time, face wrought with anticipation. "... Alright."

With a steady gaze downwards, Harvey slowly lowers his body down. He jolts as if struck with electricity when the tip presses against his rim, lips parting with a slow breath as he inches down further after a pause. There's a start of a whine in the back of his throat every time the strap-on slides in deeper, but he always staves it off. Always sucks in more air, and keeps going dutifully.

Harvey keeps to his promise and carefully holds himself up even as the strap-on fills him, an occasional shake winding from his face to his legs. Those dance aerobics classes seem to be paying off, in any case.

This seems to be one of the rare circumstances where Harvey is considerate of his boundaries and limits, hips undulating up and down with a careful air. It's a process he treats delicately, gives himself plenty of time to relax in between motions, and Clarice can appreciate that solely because he deserves to be treated gently. Even if she's horrible at doing it, he deserves that much. That sort of growth is something she owes him, one of these days.

That day will come, but today is a different one, a different milestone. Harvey doesn't contest these thoughts of hers, moaning softly once the gentle treatment becomes unnecessary. Unwanted, if the gradually increasing speed of his rhythm could have any thoughts on the matter.

Through the slits of trembling fingers, Clarice watches. Everything is magnified, all the emotions breaking some impossibly high dam despite the odds. There's shifts in Harvey's expression every time he effectively bounces, lips twitching with effort to keep himself quiet. Sweat glistens along his forehead and neck— he shines in the low lamplight that sits glowing only about a foot away.

The heat between her legs is unbearable. Clarice can't remember the last time she had gotten so wet and hadn't tended to herself. Hadn't been able to. It's humiliating, but that emotion is so weak and malleable in the current of pure arousal her body is getting lost in. Her head is foggy, yet her vision is vibrant with clarity, with Harvey.

Harvey, who's working himself down harder with every passing second. Instead of that lost, cloudy look catching in his eyes, he only looks all the more searching. Harvey sits back further on his heels, letting out a moan that sounds frustrated. Unthinkingly, Clarice's eyes glance downward at the dick between his legs. Straining and flushed against his abdomen, with him close enough that she can see the pearl of pre-cum beading at the very tip. It moves with every motion he makes. The bead drips over, trailing over every bump and ridge.

"... What's wrong?" Clarice dares to speak, voice containing a rasp that floors her.

"... I can't," Harvey whines, back arching as he sculpts his hips into a particular rocking motion. "I-I can't, I need—" he chokes, leaning far enough that he has to grind his hips forward and back more than up and down for the strap-on to stay inside.

Then he jolts at a particular thrust he implores, gasping sharply. His brown eyes go wide, glasses jumping with every movement that he makes, suddenly speeding up. "Oh! Oh, please, please—"

His thighs tremble with effort, and suddenly he's sliding right down. Harvey's weight presses right into her as he essentially sits on her lap, making her let out a grunt of surprise rather than one of any meaningful discomfort. He's straddling her completely, and the whimper he lets out is downright pitiful.

Harvey blinks with wet eyes, his eyes searching for hers, face twisted with embarrassment. Need laces it, need seems nestled into every frantic little movement Harvey attempts to make. Only for Harvey's body to slump back down, clearly too exhausted to keep doing all the work. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I can't— can you—?"

He suffers through the moment for air, face red as a strawberry, thighs still shaking even as he's seated. ".... Help me," he breathes, air whistling through his teeth a little. "Please."

The blood in her body is torn between two places. Clarice feels light-headed, her chest heaving for air she hadn't realized had dissipated. She's sweating before she's even doing anything, before she warily places her spare hand on his hip for support. Harvey groans with relief before she even properly helps him out. "Thank you, thank you." he chants.

He starts to move up again, more uninhibited thanks to the added momentum of Clarice's hand moving with him. Harvey lets out a hoarse cry when Clarice gathers enough courage to start rolling her hips up, meeting in a messy pace where neither is sure who should follow who.

Clarice shudders at the sudden increase in sounds, and more importantly, the volume. Face flaming, her mind wails to reprimand him in some way, to remind him of his neighbors who know him, but more importantly her. It's here where input and output scramble uselessly in the recesses of her brain. "Harvey! You— You need to quiet down." she hisses from her hand, on the cusp of a grand mistake. Her mind aims for swatting at his arm, but seeing as both hands are busy with equally important tasks, an easy pair of dots are connected.

Clarice raises her hand for a brief moment, smacking his ass lightly. Absently.

Harvey downright squeaks with shock, jerking on her lap. "I'm— I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

She could die right that moment, but thankfully, Harvey seems too out of it to make a comment on it. She cowers further into her hand all the same, body as hot as a furnace, eyes watering.

Clarice is just as quick to look through her fingers again, her other hand gripping his hip tightly, heart stopping in her chest when Harvey bites into his palm, muffling yet another cry. His eyes are lidded behind his glasses, breathing unsteady against his palm.

Harvey shakes his head, babbling around his hand as his body starts to tense up. "Clarice. Clarice. Feels good." His voice catches, bed creaking. An embarrassed pride stings her chest, hand clawing into his hip with her nails.

Despite the strain her voice, she forces what she knows he needs out. "You're doing so good, Harvey."

Harvey trembles, eyes squeezing shut, head tipping back. "... Clarice, 'm gonna..." he's nearly incoherent, too weak to keep riding the strap-on even with Clarice's guidance. Her moving hips seem to be enough to suffice, his teeth visibly digging deeper into his skin.

He blinks, once, then twice, then again, each one more rapid than the last. Harvey's body seizes, Clarice can feel it down to his thighs, his head bolting back forward. To her surprise, his other hand goes to cover the one holding his hip, his hips rolling in sporadic little bursts.

Harvey holds her hand to him tightly, dragging in one more ragged breath as the tension crests and drops with an abruptness entirely expected. He wheezes a little, sounding almost pained as his body quakes through the orgasm, cock twitching with little spurts.

All Clarice can do is watch with wide eyes, hiding them behind her hand again when it gets too much. All of this has been too much, really, but the feeling really implodes in the aftermath.

Soon enough, Harvey manages to haul his body to the spot next to her, sluggish and sated when he lets his body collapse. The bed squeaks in protest. Clarice's eyes burn more and more with unshed tears by the second, face hotter than the sun. She is half convinced that when she pulls her hand away, there will be burns staining her fingers and palm.

"Do you..." Harvey suddenly pipes up, lungs still audibly fighting for oxygen. "... want me to return the favor?" he asks, managing to sound as timid as he was breathless. "I mean, I know you didn't... finish." he coughs as quiet as a mouse.

Clarice makes a strangled sound, rolling on the side that turned her back to him. Tears spill out of her eyes, though she can't say any part of her regrets the experience. She's just... overwhelmed, mortified, and irritatingly horny. "No."

"Are you crying?" The bed dips as Harvey's voice pitches higher up in panic. "Oh, I'm so—"

"Harvey, it was hot," she sputters through tears, not giving him the chance to piss her off through his relentless apologies yet again. "Shut up. I'm just overwhelmed."

A hand tentatively reaches for her shoulder, Clarice's body tensing when she feels him stroke her shoulder assuringly. She hates him a little for it, hates it more when she actually relaxes.

It takes a moment of deliberate silence until the feeling soothes in her chest. Wiping away a few tears, she reluctantly rolls onto her other side, facing Harvey. “… Hi.” she says, voice a little muted.

“Hi.” The sentiment is mimicked easily, breathlessly, though he tacks a hesitant smile onto his flushed face. Clarice bursts into a giddy giggle for a reason she can’t quite pin down, giving him a watery smile. Harvey’s smile brightens, looking relieved. Some sexual exploration is healthy in the long run, she supposes, if it feels this freeing at the end.

[kellycataclysm]

Metamorphosis

Like every Harvey fan, I have been following the adventures of Cringefail Farmer and her Harvey. Over the weekend, I couldn't stop thinking of the wilted bouquet. It struck me that many of the interpretations I read of Harvey also wouldn't throw it away, the collection of flowers holding such a special significance to him and what it means for his future.

So, I wrote this little piece that I call Metamorphosis. @clarisinne this is for you. Shout out to @saradika-graphics for the borders.

He sat at his desk, more than a little distracted. Resting his chin on his hand, completely aware of the smile that rose to his face. His thoughts in a whirlwind, just like her.

The first petal fell. A delicate drifting motion to the counter below. Fluttering, it caught his eye, and his heart did the same. The flowers, their velvet petals, delicate shades, each one held so much meaning.

Blushing red roses and their kiss of devotion. Yellow petals that smiled like the rays of the sun, warming everything around them with their stardust sprinkling of good luck. Blue spheres, their happy faces and featherlike petals hinted at loyalty, suggesting a strength at odds with the soft round blossom.

Dotted among this riot of colour, perfect pink blooms offered compassion, their tender clustered petals wrapping around each other in a comforting embrace. A dusting of small white flowers shimmered throughout the bouquet, sincere and heartfelt, a breathless whispered promise of things to come. All this held firm by sturdy green stems, their glossy leaves the colour of patience.

He chuckled. Patience was something he had in droves. It seemed it was something he needed. He didn’t really mind, as long as she felt comfortable. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the object in front of him, shaking his head softly to think of how those around him reacted to this new vision of him. Lovesick. He sighed.

Another petal fell.

Days passed and the flowers began to fade, their colours losing their brilliance, petals beginning to curl at the edges, leaves beginning to dry. Still, he looked on, breathing in the subtle scent, a lingering reminder of the day he received them, presented with thrilling exhilaration. He smiled at the contradiction, such a fragile thing to be given in a moment that held such meaning.

It took so much for her to step from within her comfort zone, to give him the flowers. Nothing made him happier than to receive such a significant gift from her, she who meant so much to him. He laughed quietly as he remembered being tackled to the ground. The comfort zone is a safe place, but nothing ever grows there.

The bouquet faded further. He wondered what he should do but he couldn’t bring himself to part with it. Every single one of those wilting petals enduring as long as they could. He thought of resilience, what it took for her to bring them to him. What it could mean for the future. The feelings in those pale blossoms remaining, even as time passed, and things changed. Every step bringing them closer together. He wished; he let his mind drift into daydreams.

More petals fell to the counter, dry leaves tapping against the surface as they completed their descent. He couldn’t throw it away. He wanted it front and centre, the two of them together for all to see. It had been a long time since he had someone, same for her, so maybe this… whatever this was… they could help each other. He smiled, bittersweet. As long as she would stop pushing him away. He remembered each of the meanings attached to the blooming flowers when they were fresh and vibrant. Acceptance. Loyalty. He just hoped she wouldn’t wait too long.

Time rolled by, days slow and thick as molasses. He looked at the flowers, their vivid summer hues now taking on an autumnal warmth. A bright morning giving way to dusk. Yet where the vase stood, lit by the soft warm light that streamed in through the window, he was reminded of the memory it held, a glowing sensation that trickled through his body. Each wilted blossom told the story of that day.

He peered around at the sterile clinic, the quiet waiting room with its orderly chairs and information lining the walls. Even a fading bouquet brought an air of comfort and sentimentality to the surroundings, something that caused his romantic side to smile. He grinned, telling himself he was being ridiculous. He couldn’t keep it forever. Yet, to him it was a treasure, something to be cherished. An artefact. He’d keep it in a museum if he could.

In this strange little town, the town they both called home, he knew the wilted bouquet held a different meaning, of separation, of broken hearts. Despite the decay he saw before him, all he could think of was the new beginning that the bouquet represented. Fading flowers still whispering their promise of things to come, memories of the time he had experienced with her, refusing to be forgotten.

Metamorphosis. He thought of butterflies, beautiful like the changing seasons. Their relationship changed too, emotions evolved, feelings were embraced, even if they were battled with before they were accepted. All things change, much like the bouquet. Even as it faded. True love changes, it moves, fluid like time, always transforming, never static.

A poet once said, ‘A thing of beauty is a joy forever’ and that was what he saw when he looked at the flowers in the vase.

Just a little something that i couldn't get off my mind this weekend. @clarisinne, I hope you like it. Thank you for letting us all follow their story.

[midnightlighthowlite]

I don't necessarily like mike and harvey being on opposite sides - since the whole show is built on their relationship- but one thing s4 does really well is put Harvey through the wringer. They spend 3 seasons building him up, strengths and insecurities, gave him a protege who could match his freak and then took him away.

And harvey can't handle it!

This season does a really good job at stretching this man every which way and he hates it.

He doesn't want to give up his mentorship position, can't see Mike as an equal and fucked up the whole plot ( I'm not a fan of useless melodrama, but Harvey is the type of person to yell " you're nothing without me" and mean it)

He tries to protect mike who's also more or less fresh in his rebellious phase - he challenges Harvey, he goes after his clients. Look at him, he's excited! He wants to play the big game, but Harvey isn't meeting him in a place of friendly rivalry, he sees it as an insult ( which granted, fair, they're handling lots of money and legal fees, but even with the toughest antagonists, Harvey still had fun! Still goaded them, was arrogant. He's not here! This isn't fun for him!)

S4 is the first season where Harvey is off kilter for the longest we've seen him. As much as i love rachel and hate seeing her suffer, i think it's very interesting to see her try to match his energy and Harvey not letting her. She tries to enter the friendly relationship him and Mike had, but he's not open, he's critical, he doesn't let her close. Both Rachel and Mike said that Harvey wouldn't have given him a day off, but mike yelled at Harvey in front of the associates and got a ... not even harsh, just serious tone that told him to go home and rachel asked to rest and got her head bitten off. They are NOT the same

I'm excited for them to get back to the usual banter and easy relationship, but s4 is Harvey's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad season and it's great!

[gildagracedent]

Very unpopular opinion as a Gilda writer, but I hate how she uses the nickname Apollo for Harvey. Aka, Another reason to dislike The Long Halloween's depiction of Gilda.

One, she didn't come up with the name of Apollo - Gotham did because he was Gotham's golden boy. Harvey had tremendous pressure on him to be that man. He should have been able to return home to his wife to be able to be who he was - a troubled man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Why would she be using a name that the tabloids came up for him? I wouldn't want that for me. When I get home, I want to be Delia. No one else. Additionally, Harvey was also given the nickname for his good looks. While I understand that Gilda is a sculptor and would appreciate such beauty, it seems weird to me that she's holding up his appearance to such a high standard. It almost feels fetishy? Harvey is far more than his looks and his "golden boy" aspects. What annoys me even more is that she calls Harvey "Apollo" after his acid attack. Why? Why would Harvey EVER be okay with that? It would be such an insult and a way to constantly remind him of his "former" life. Yes, it can be viewed that she still views Harvey as beautiful and untouchable despite the presence of Two Face, I feel like it would be more mocking. That, or it's a little disturbing. I feel like she doesn't treat Harvey as human very often. She has these fantasies that put him on a pedestal. (There is nothing wrong with her wanting a peaceful life and a family. That's not what I mean. It's HOW she goes about it.) We see a few scenes where she asks about Harvey's well being and is shown to be very loyal to him - as she should. However, to me, she doesn't read as a wife - someone that should be an equal. To me, she reads more like a fangirl. Again, that pedestal aspect is there. Not Harvey the MAN who needs his wife to comfort him AND be by his side or able to give support and advice. Someone that can be his rock. But we don't get that. Harvey clearly views her as his wife and that's what matters most, but again, re-reading the comics, I'm disappointed by her lack of personality, hobbies, occupation and conviction. Seeing panels of Gilda in the new Long Halloween chapters is nice, but I'm still peeved by her characterization. And this is another reason why I hate that most people only know Gilda from The Long Halloween.

I know these are really unpopular opinions, but I feel like if I'm going to roleplay as her or write about her - I'm going to do her a disservice by using the very one dimensional Gilda we see in that series.

[livinggeekchic]

I’ve been thinking a lot more about Harvey on my most recent reread of Purple Hyacinth. He is set up as this kind of bumbling but good-natured kid, whose death hits us hard—only for us to later find out that he was a spy for the Phantom Scythe all along. And we, like Lauren, feel betrayed.

But we are given clues that everything is not as it seems. To start, Bella tells Kieran that Harvey was eliminated because he wasn’t useful.

That got me thinking about this set of panels. March and Hermann are having a conversation about Lune. This is surely information that the leader would be interested in hearing about. Harvey is in the perfect position to listen in, walking by with a stack of papers. But instead, he hightails it out of there. If you zoom in, you can see the “spinning” of his feet, he’s booking it so fast out of there.

So while he was a spy, he either wasn’t a very good one, or he didn’t really want to be one. We also see Harvey mentioning that he has to do his best for his grandpa--is it possible that his grandfather needs money, and that's why he's doing it? This is just one possibility of many. Kieran says as much to Lauren, after she tells him that Harvey was a mole. Kieran knows there are many reasons someone might join the Phantom Scythe, but Lauren is still thinking in black and white--right and wrong. While it makes sense that Lauren feels betrayed, she's failing to grasp the nuance of the situation.

Nothing showcases this better than Harvey’s funeral. We see Harvey’s grandfather violently sobbing, obviously devastated. He says “you didn’t need to try so hard.” (Another indicator that Harvey was likely making choices for his grandfather’s benefit.)

And how does Lauren react? Her expression here doesn’t look like one of sympathy, or even pity. She looks shocked and almost affronted. She’s so consumed by her hatred of the Phantom Scythe, for what happened at Allendale, that she can’t even see Harvey as a person. She can stand by and watch his close family member grieve, and all she thinks is, “they don’t know what I know.” But regardless of what misdeeds Harvey committed, he was still loved. He still deserves to be mourned.

She calls him a traitor. She’s almost disgusted by the fact that everyone is mourning him. But was he really a traitor? How much information did he actually give the Scythe? He was "useless" after all. Even if he did help the Scythe stall the APD's investigations, we know he wasn't this inherently evil character. He was genuinely concerned for his coworkers' safety. Lauren tells us that he never lied or showed any signs of being part of the PS. She sees this as evidence that she was blind to the truth, but I think she's actually blind to the fact that not everyone in the PS is "the enemy." Their motivations can be complicated.

In S1, Lauren views Kieran similarly. He’s an assassin, and therefore, he is reprehensible. She can’t understand why it's so important to him that he kills only when ordered or when it's the only solution. She doesn't really attempt to unearth his reasoning for wanting to take down the leader, beyond asking about it just once. She is inflexible, and rigid in her thinking: good people don't work for the Phantom Scythe. But of course, we come to see that it's more complicated than that.

A lot happens in S2 that helps open her eyes to this, which I won’t go into now. But I will leave you with a quote from Kieran in episode 93: “all these years within this wretched organization have taught me…it’s not a monolith. Not everyone agrees nor is aware of what is truly going on.”

Perhaps Harvey truly didn’t know the half of it. Maybe he was given a chance to provide for his grandfather and took it. Maybe he was told that the Scythe was helping the poor, and he related to that struggle. Maybe he was told they would only use the info he gave them to protect themselves from the APD, and wouldn't ever go on the offense. Ultimately, we don’t know. But what I do know is that if Harvey was outed as a spy in S3, I think Lauren would try harder to understand.

[autumncottageattic]

Favourite quotes from Bridget Jones's Diary (1996) & Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason (1999), just finished re-reading them😄

It struck me as pretty ridiculous to be called Mr Darcy and to stand on your own looking snooty at a party. It's like being called Heathcliff and insisting on spending the entire evening in the garden, shouting 'Cathy' and banging your head against a tree

He turned round, revealing that what had seemed from the back like a harmless navy sweater was actually a V-neck diamond-pattern in shades of yellow and blue — as favoured by the more elderly of the nation's sports reporters. As my friend Tom often remarks, it's amazing how much time and money can be saved in the world of dating by close attention to detail. A white sock here, a pair of red braces there, a grey slip-on shoe, a swastika, are as often as not all one needs to tell you there's no point writing down

Suddenly I realize I am waiting for the phone again. How can it be that the situation between the sexes after a first night remains so agonizingly imbalanced? Feel as if I have just sat an exam and must wait for my results.

Can officially confirm that the way to a man s heart these days is not through beauty, food, sex, or alluringness of character, but merely the ability to seem not very interested in him.

You should make the most of being single while it lasts, Bridge,' she said. 'Once you've got kids and you've given up your job you're in an incredibly vulnerable position. I know Jeremy thinks my life is just one big holiday, but basically it's extremely hard work looking after a toddler and a baby all day, and it doesn't stop. When Jeremy comes home at the end of the day he wants to put his feet up and be nurtured and, as I imagine all the time now, fantasize about girls in leotards at the Harbour Club.

'I had a proper job before. I know for a fact it's much more fan going out to work, getting all dressed up, flirting in the office and having nice lunches than going to the bloody supermarket and picking Harry up from playgroup. But there's always this aggrieved air that I'm some sort of ghastly Harvey Nichols-obsessed lady who lunches while he earns all the money.'

She's so beautiful, Magda. I watched her toying with her champagne glass despondently and wondered what the answer is for we girls. Talk about grass is always bloody greener. The number of times I've slumped, depressed, thinking how useless I am and that I spend every Saturday night getting blind drunk and moaning to Jude and Shazzer or Tom about not having a boyfriend; I struggle to make ends meet and am ridiculed as an unmarried freak, whereas Magda lives in a big house with eight different kinds of pasta in jars, and gets to go shopping all day. And yet here she is so beaten, miserable and unconfident and telling me I'm lucky . . 

Going out to meet Tom for tea. Decided needed to spend more time on appearance like Hollywood stars and have therefore spent ages putting concealer under eyes, blusher on cheeks and defining fading features.

'Good God,' said Tom when I arrived.

'What?' I said. 'What?'

"Your face. You look like Barbara Cartland.'

Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason (1999)

Jude had been to the gym where she ended up reading some article calling single girls over thirty 're-treads'. "The guy was arguing that the sort of girls who

 - wouldn't go out with him in their twenties would go out with him now but he didn't want them any more," she said sadly. "He said they were all obsessed with settling down and babies and his rule with girls now was "Nothing over twenty-five".

Whole dating world is like hideous game of bluff and double bluff with men and women firing at each other from opposite lines of sandbags. Is as if there is a set of rules that you are supposed to be sticking to, but no one knows what they are so everyone just makes up their own. Then you end up getting chucked because you didn't follow the rules correctly, but how could you be expected to, when you didn't know what they were in the first place?

"It's very hard for young people now," Elaine interrupted again, looking hard at me. "One can marry anyone when one is eighteen. But when one's character is formed, taking on the reality of a man must seem insufferable. Present company excepted of course."

All friendships between men and women are based on the sexual dynamic. The mistake people make is ignoring this, then getting upset when their friend doesn't shag them."

  "I'm not getting upset," muttered Shazzer.

  "What about friends when neither fancies the other?" said Jude.

  "Doesn't happen. Sex is what drives it. 'Friends' is a bad definition."

"It's not me it's a social trend," I said indignantly. "Women are staying single because they can support themselves and want to do their careers, then when they get older all the men think they're desperate re-treads with sell-by dates and just want someone younger."

  "Honestly, darling. Sell-by dates! Anyone would think you were a tub of cottage cheese in ASDA! All that sillydaft nonsense is just in films, darling."

"No, it's not."

  "Durrr! Sell-by date. They might pretend they want one of these bimbas but they don't really. They want a nice friend. What about Roger what's-his-name that left Audrey for his secretary? Of course she was thick. Six months later he was begging Audrey to come back and she wouldn't have him!"

[worldismyne]

Piper Ch 1

Rating: T

Pairing: Harv/Finn

Summary:There is a common misconception that witches steal children. The reason why varies depending on who you ask.

The truth is, when people don't want their children in Cailburry, they'll leave them in the forest and wash their hands of them.

This time, Finn found one.

(Takes place during Finn's 3rd/4th year at WU)

Ao3 link

Finn hated going into the garden by himself, especially at night. He knew, logically, that the rose bushes were no longer looming towers and Hevvin was too afraid to be lurking between them anymore. All the logic in the world did little against the clamor of his heart every time he had to venture more than a foot away from the front door. Mother had a headache and the garbage needed to be taken out, so if he didn't want the kitchen to smell in the morning he needed to venture outside.

He lugged the indoor bin to the refuse heap where their discarded food slowly decomposed into a soil mother used for the gardens. Every light in the house was left on, but couldn't reach the far end of the yard where Finn had to walk. Dewy roses in the shadows always made a chill run down his spine. He dumped out the bin as quickly as he could when something shiny in the brush caught his eye. It was too slick to be one of the yellow roses, too pink to be a stone. Not that mother kept any stones in the flower beds anyway.

He grabbed a spade and tentatively poked it. It was soft, pitting under the pressure of the blade, with something hard underneath the surface. He recoiled, expecting something to jump out or run away. Nothing happened. He nudged it again with the space, this time rocking the mass forward. When it rolled back, more of it fell into the light. Finn immediately dropped the spade. There were few times he'd risk injuring himself to fish something out of the bushes. This was one of those times.

-0-

Harv was used to Finn having a very loose understanding of things like personal boundaries and time. Getting strange phone calls at all hours of the day was a common occurrence, especially when they had a day off from school and Finn was bored. That night Finn was in the middle of working on his midterm assignment, some kind of memorization thing. There was absolutely no reason Finn would want to call in the middle of the night, long after Harv's family had turned in for the evening.

"Can humans drink goat milk?" Finn had asked before Harv could ask him why he was even awake.

"Yes Finn, I- You know my family sells goat milk to people." Harv was ready to hang up the phone, but Finn started talking again.

"But, like, can babies have it?"

"...yeah, if you water it down and cook it." Harv groaned, longing to be asleep again. "Why?"

"I might need a few cups until the lost and found opens up. Someone dropped their baby while walking in the woods." Harv sat up, alarmed and fully awake.

"What do you mean someone 'dropped their baby'?"

"Well, I just assume that's what happened." Finn sighed at him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "She was naked and covered in dirt. I don't imagine that happens if you're keeping an eye on where your baby is. It was disgusting. When I was done hosing her off, there was white stuff stuck in her hair. It took three rounds of soap to get it out."

"You really shouldn't use soap on a newborn, Finn." Harv started gathering some of Puck's old stuff. The more Finn told him, the more sick to his stomach he felt. People normally wouldn't leave a newborn baby in that state if they wanted people to find them.

"Well, I wasn't just going to leave her covered in dirt and cheese, Harvey. I'm not a monster."

"I'm coming over." Harv filled a jar of milk and an old swaddle. "If she cries again, just give her something to suck on, like your knuckle." He wasn't sure what all Finn might need to know, given Finn had zero experience taking care of younger siblings. He could only imagine how much Finn would freak out if he had to change a nap. Was the baby even wearing one right now?

"She hasn't made a peep the whole time, but okay, weirdo."

"I'm not-" Harv paused loading up the basket. "She didn't cry when you were bathing her?"

"No, slept through the whole thing." That wasn't good. "Was she supposed to?"

"I'll be there in twenty minutes." He hung up the phone and rushed to the cart.

-0-

Harv pulled up to the large house in the woods, a warm glow coming from the downstairs window. Before he got a chance to knock on the large double doors, Finn had opened the small entrance to the home and lifted a single finger to his lips, his other hand pressed to his chest.

"Mother's sleeping." Finn gestured for him to come inside.

"You didn't-" He received a sharp glare from Finn and lowered his voice. "You didn't wake her up for this?"

"No? Mother has a strict 'outside things stay outside' policy." Harv gave him a mortified look. "I'm not completely useless in a crisis, I can handle a tiny human for twelve hours." Finn rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him. "...but I'm glad you're here, I kinda need to use the bathroom." Harv looked all over the living room. There was a huge mess of blankets on the couch, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"Where..." Harv turned and saw Finn open up the strange robe he was wearing and realized Finn's hand wasn't pressed against his chest, but holding the baby. As soon as her pale skin was exposed to the outside air, dark red spiderwebs spread across it. She was smaller than a head of lettuce with a puff of auburn hair. She didn't shiver or make a face, but she was breathing. Finn handed the unswaddled baby over to Harv and ran to the bathroom. Harv wrapped her in a blanket, but the webbing continued to spread up her cheeks. She couldn't keep herself warm. "Finn, how long has she been sleeping?" Finn popped his head out as he washed his hands.

"I don't know, a few hours." He dried his hands and came back into the room. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Finn, I don't know how to tell you this, but feeble babies usually don't..." He bit his lip. "If she doesn't eat, there's nothing we can do." She wasn't reacting to the sound of their voices or touch, but Finn scooped her up none the wiser and put her back against his chest. The warmth of his skin chased away the chill and the mottling in her cheeks disappeared.

"Then get her milk ready."

There was no telling how long she'd gone without food or when she was born, but Harv knew what his brothers looked like and all of them were twice her size and loud. Sleeping babies didn't latch to a bottle or breast. You couldn't just make a baby eat before they were ready. But Finn was insistent and there really was no harm heating up milk just to throw it in the trash.

Harv boiled a small batch on the stove in heavy silence, then poured the milk into a jar and ran it under a cold stream of water until it was a safe temperature to drink. He poured the milk into a small wooden boat called a pap. When he came back into the living room, Finn was cycling through scenes on the crystal ball.

They both tried to offer her the pap. Her mouth was slightly open, but she wouldn't latch or suckle. Neither the smell of the milk or a drop on her lips got her to move.

"Finn..." Harv didn't know what else to say. Finn dipped his finger in the milk and put a drop on her tongue. It rolled down and finally she closed her tiny jaw and gave a weak swallow.

"She's eating." Finn insisted, hoping to inspire confidence, but his expression was far grimmer. "Go get mother."

-0-

Just like Finn had feared, he was in trouble for dragging some strange thing in from outside, even if it was a baby. He had explained to both her and Harv how he'd gone outside to take out the trash and found her in the rose bushes. At first, he thought the unicorn had gone and left one of his 'presents', but when he realized what it was, he couldn't in good conscience just leave her there.

"If I had a nickel for every time a dying kid ended up in my roses..." Leenan said. "What? I'd only have two, but it's weird it happened twice. I mean, the trash can was right there."

"Mother!" Finn knew his mom had a dark sense of humor, but Harv was not used to hearing such horrible things said for the sake of levity. Besides that, it was becoming clearer that she had not just been dropped, but purposefully left behind. Finn understood not wanting to deal with children, but not to this extent. He had managed to get a few drops of milk in her, but after a while, it was too hard for her to close her mouth and she had fully fallen asleep again. "Is there a spell or something you have that could make her better?" Finn said. Leenan sighed and sank into her chair.

"If she was sick, maybe, but she's not. She's just tiny and weak." Leenan said. Finn looked to Harv. He dealt with small living things all the time, but he also seemed to be of the opinion their options were limited. No lost and found or whatever peasants called it would take a child that couldn't eat. "We can keep trying to get her to eat little bits every few hours and hope she finds the energy; other than that, the best thing you can do is keep her warm." Leenan said with a shrug. Finn looked down at the little puff of hair that peaked through the folds of his robes, denial creeping back in. He had seen her swallow. There was still a chance they could make her eat. "You know, Finn didn't eat the first day either." Leenan recalled with a sad smile. "Then he vomited up this clear stuff, next thing I know he's hungry. So, there's still time." He knew she was trying to be comforting, but still.

"Must you embarrass me in front of my friend?"

"It's the middle of the night, you'll be lucky if that's the worst that happens." Leenan warned sternly. "Now then, let's get some tea going, hunh?" She went into the kitchen to grab the kettle and froze. Dirty towels and other gross things had been tossed around the floor and sink. "Finn did you put that baby in the good saucepan!?"

"Where else was I supposed to put her?" Finn shouted back. "She'd sink in the tub!" He heard the pan get tossed in the trash with the linens. "Well, don't throw it away if it's ruined, what if she gets dirty again?" Finn said. Harv pat him on the knee.

"I'll handle the cleanup." Harv could tell this was going to be a long and stressful night. At least they didn't have school to worry about tomorrow. They'd try to feed her again in an hour and hopefully at some point get some rest.

-0-

Finn had dozed off on the couch sometime after sunrise, having been unable to get the baby to take more than a few drops at a time, when suddenly a small sound came from under his robe. It was so quiet and short, Harv thought at first that a cat or a bird had wandered into the yard outside. A few minutes later, another short peep, more of a grunt then a cry. Finn was sleeping through it, but Harv wondered if finally the baby had woken up. He opened the front of Finn's robe and the small babe scrunched up her face and peeped again. As soon as Harv tried to lift her off Finn's chest, there was a hand on his wrist, and Finn sniffed as he woke up.

"What, what happened?"

*peep*

He looked down, shocked.

"I've never heard a baby cry like that, but maybe..." Harv tilted the pap to her lips, both of them too scared to move her. Finally, she took a full swallow of milk. She smacked her lips and stuck out her tongue, unable to root or open her eyes, but hoping another drink was out there waiting.

"Thank god." Finn was too exhausted to cry. She fell asleep after three swallows of milk, but it was more than she'd taken in twelve hours.

"Will you finally hand her over and get some sleep?" Harv asked. Finn looked down at her.

"You're going to hold her, right? You're not going to put her down?" Harv nodded, but Finn was still guarded. "Cause she starts changing colors if she's not on another person, I don't like it."

"I'll hold her the whole time, I promise." Finn sat up and carefully moved her from his chest for the first time in hours.

"Open your tunic."

"What, why?"

"Well, if you're not going to do it right, I'll just..." He went to sit back down.

"No, I'll do it. I just can't really." He lowered the neck of his shirt and Finn slipped her down his front. "Why's this so important?"

"She changes color less against skin." Finn said and yawned. He laid down on the couch, too tired to make the journey upstairs to his own room. Besides, part of him was terrified if he wasn't in the same room as her, she'd disappear or cry the whole time. He didn't want to risk it. He couldn't fight sleep any longer and drifted off as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Harv sighed, and leaned back in the chair, unable to do much now that he was stuck being a baby bed for the next hour or so. He felt her warm back up from the journey from one chest to the other. She opened and closed one of her hands, a single nail scratched gently against his chest. Her tiny breaths synced up with his, and each time seemed deeper and fuller than the last. When he accidentally held his breath too long, so would she. Weak as she was, she was listening to them. She was aware.

His time raising animals had taught him to try and be realistic, to not get too attached to a baby who'd yet to make it a hundred days out of the womb. It was easy to say Finn was being too stubborn when she was just a lump in his robe. It was harder to stay objective with her sleeping on top of him like this.

"If you don't keep eating, Finn's gonna kill me." Harv murmured. She moved her hand closer to her face.

[sceneohscene]

Maybe one day

Since they met in that bar, Harvey and Donna always knew they would end up together. Even though the redhead had a rule about not getting involved with men she worked with, that was before the lawyer, who did everything in his power to win her over. Unable to resist him, she eventually gave in. They fell hard for each other, married quickly, and for a time, it seemed nothing could come between them—until Harvey’s mistake shattered it all, leading to an inevitable divorce. Six months later, they unexpectedly cross paths at a gala. Despite Donna’s request for time and space, Harvey is unable to move on. Desperate to win back the love of his life, he pulls out all the stops to charm her, hoping that one day, they can return to the way things were before, when they felt truly alive.

Rating: T

Words: 15,185

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

He had fallen hard for her, and she was probably the only woman he had ever loved, actually.

He still loved her, though, because, despite the time, he still had a hard time coming to terms that he had been married and divorced, their love story having been as brief as a moment. He had met Donna at a bar near the DA's office, and even though they both worked there, he had never seen her and wasn't interested enough in the office gossip to have heard about the mighty Donna Paulsen. But the moment he turned around in that bar and saw her for the first time, he was ready to give up everything for her.

« You know, usually when someone wins their first trial, they at least pretend to finish their drink »

« I’m sorry, do we — »

« Know each other? Not yet. But today is your lucky day »

« And why is that? »

« Because it’s the day you get to meet Donna »

It has been his lucky day, indeed. The moment he had laid eyes on her, he knew she was different, that she wouldn't be like all those girls who were just passing through his bed, that her, she would have stayed. She was gorgeous, with long sparkling red hair, big green-brown eyes, a perfect mouth, curtain bangs that framed her face perfectly, and a body that would make many jealous. But if he had fallen for her physically, it was especially her kindness, her devotion, her humor, her arrogance, and her scathing remarks that had made him crazy. When she had made things clear and told him that she didn't get involved with the men she worked with, it had been like a stab into his heart, and even if he was a womanizer, he respected her choice. Only, if he would have given up with any other girl, she was different, and he couldn't let her slip through his fingers. So he didn’t.

« Hey »

« Hey »

« You’re done with your work? »

« I am. Do you need something else, Harvey? »

« Yeah »

« Tell me »

« For you to come on a date with me »

« Harvey »

« I know you tell me you didn’t get involved with men you’re working with, but I’m not any man — »

« You’re my boss, which is like a thousand times worst »

« Maybe, but I can’t help it »

« Harvey, it’s a no »

As they were both alone, everyone already left to go home, he decided to do what he does best: flirt. If any woman would just blushed and accepted, he knew Donna wasn’t like that, she would make herself desired and would not hesitate to play with his nerves, but that was what he liked most about her, and the very idea of ​​her resisting him gave him butterflies in his stomach. He then hurried to sit on her desk, giving her his charming smile before leaning towards her and whispering.

« Why? »

« You know why »

« Because I’m your boss? »

« Exactly because your my boss »

« Alright, first, I always thought that the entire boss secretary thing was hot, you know, kind of a hot dirty little secret, waiting for everyone to leave to enjoy the office just the two of us, you in a tight skirt bringing me my coffee while leaning in front of me, exposing everything right in front of my eyes, maybe splashing hot liquid on my white shirt just so I can take it off, or dropping your pen on purpose and all that — totally my kink »

« This isn’t a porn scenario »

« But it could be »

« Oh my god » snorted the redhead.

« Anyway, forget about sex for a moment »

« Because you can? »

« Hardly, but forget for a moment » chuckled the lawyer.

« I’ll try »

« Alright, close your eyes and imagine if I wasn’t your boss, you were not my secretary, I wasn’t obsessed with sex — »

« I’m not sure it’s — »

« Hey, you said you would try »

« My bad. So? »

« Imagine that I'm just a regular guy, not your boss, and that your first impression of me isn't that I’m just a jerk who wanted to sleep with you. I have plenty of other qualities too, you know »

« Like what? »

« I’m hot »

« Let’s say you're not bad »

« It hurts a little, but okay. What else? I'm so funny »

« You're annoying, that's different. Plus, Harry from the finance department is very funny too »

« What? Curly Harry? Is that the one I'm competing with? »

« Competition? Really? » chuckled Donna.

« What? Obviously I have to fight for you to be mine, so yeah, it's a competition. But lucky for you, I'm the best closer in New York »

While she was still having her eyes closed as he had said that, he could see goosebumps appear on her arms, her shivering slightly when he had said those words in an almost growl. Alright, his plan was clearly working, and maybe the redhead wasn't as immune to his charm as she had implied. If he kept smiling while looking at her, he heard the redhead chuckling.

« Maybe, but Harry is so sweet while you're a real savage »

« I can be sweet too, and even then, stop pretending you don't like my savage side. It can be really useful, especially in bed »

« I thought we forgot about sex? »

« Yeah, you're right, my bad. So I was saying, I'm hot, and funny, a little savage but I can be sweet too, at least for you — what else? Yeah, one day I'll be rich, and I promise you I'll buy you all the dresses, handbags, and shoes you want, all the time »

« I like the idea »

« I’ll take you to Broadway every night »

« You? To Broadway? »

« Yeah, that shows how much I want it, right? »

« But Broadway? Really? Just for sex? » chuckled the redhead.

« For everything, Donna »

« Harvey »

As she opened her eyes to look at him, he saw her singing before he swallowed hard, whispering while looking at her.

« What? »

« You're not ready »

« I can be for you. Come on, give me a chance »

As he looked at her with his puppy dog ​​eyes, she sighed before accepting. So that next day, after he had a beautiful dress, shoes and handbag delivered to her place, he was waiting outside her door with a huge bouquet of flowers and a three-piece suit, clearly a little embarrassed to be there. He would never do anything like this for anyone else, but her, god, he was ready for anything, as scary as it was. As soon as she opened her door and he saw her in her beautiful burgundy dress, her red hair slightly wavy as she was putting on her earrings, he felt his breath catch before he whispered.

« Let’s skip the restaurant »

« I’m not going to have sex with you » snorted Donna.

« Too bad »

Once her high heels were on, they headed towards Del Posto, a very trendy Italian restaurant, while they talked about everything and nothing, having the time of their lives, never stopping flirting, laughing, and having fun. That’s what they loved about each other, they were attracted physically, sexually, and emotionally to each other, sure, but above all, they were like best friends, laughing constantly, able to talk about everything and nothing, spending hours in each other’s company without ever getting tired of it while being silly and unapologetic. They loved this dynamic between them, and if Harvey wasn’t scared by commitment and Donna by the lawyer’s instability, they would have been together for ages because they were good together. So once dinner was over and the room was slowly emptying, the two friends — maybe soon to be lovers — went for a walk through the streets of New York to go back to the redhead's place, and while they shivered every time their hands brushed or they looked at each other with a look full of innuendo, neither of them knew how the evening was going to end. About twenty minutes later, once in front of her building, not wanting to separate, both of them looked at each other with a small smile before the lawyer murmured.

« So… »

« Yeah? »

« About Harry »

« You're not serious? » chuckled Donna.

« I have to know, I mean, I need to know if I'm facing a real competitor or not »

« You're scared? »

« Me scared? Please, two blows, and I'll finish the guy off. I just like to know a little bit who I'm going to have to fight against »

« Alright. You want to know what? »

« Something already happened? »

« We flirt, I mean, he flirts with me — » 

« And you are Donna » chuckled Harvey.

« Exactly »

« And did something more already happen? »

« I didn’t have sex with him if that’s your question »

« What about a kiss? »

« Neither »

« What about date? »

« When went to the bar a few times to have a drink »

« You like him? »

« Told you, he’s sweet »

« Yeah, but not to the point of actually imagining things, right? Like the future and everything? »

While Harvey was slightly embarrassed, avoiding her gaze and scratching his head awkwardly, Donna couldn’t help but melt as he looked like a teenager with his first crush. And if he was waiting for the answer, she simply whispered.

« You’re cute »

« Don’t ever say that again » snorted the lawyer.

« Nevermind, then »

« What about my question? »

« Well, I don’t like him like I like you if that’s what you want to know »

Read more

[dramatisperscnae]

[Still in my Robin: Year One feels. Rambling under the cut >w>

Not me quietly sitting here and thinking about Bruce's reaction to Dick running away from the manor after his recovery. He comes home from wherever the fuck he's been on patrol - because it certainly wasn't dealing with Freeze's bullshit - to find Alfred waiting for him in his study and the first words out of Alfred's mouth are "He's gone". Followed by informing Bruce of the letter Dick left and a very pointed comment about how Bruce has been largely absent in recent weeks, and he doesn't even let Bruce get a full sentence out before he's reading the letter aloud. Finishes up with "Have you nothing to say?" and all Bruce responds with is "Harvey Dent escaped tonight."

And that's all we really get to see. This is Dick's story, not Bruce's, so it makes sense we don't get to see the full extent of Bruce's reaction to his departure. Now, Bruce cares about Dick's wellbeing - he was all but panicking when Dick took that beating, he stayed at Dick's bedside and was there when he woke up - but he's shit at showing or communicating that - he outright avoided Dick after firing him as Robin, wouldn't even speak about him let alone to him, but then again Dick did the same right back so it's kinda even there. In a later panel we even see Bruce has a photo of him and Dick on his study desk, right where he can see it when he's working. He does care about Dick. He just can't show it for shit right now.

So Dick runs away from the manor on the same night that Two-Face escapes police custody? I have to wonder if Bruce's assumption wasn't along the lines of either: Dick somehow found out and has gone looking for the man in a misguided and suicidal attempt to get revenge/prove himself OR Dick has run away and now Two-Face is free and oh god Dick is in danger [even though Two-Face shouldn't know that Dick is Robin; fear doesn't have to make logical sense]

That said, literal weeks pass with no sign of Dick. Not so much as a hair or a peep from the kid. Alfred calls Haly's - probably multiple times, honestly - to see if Dick's turned up there, but Bruce's only response to being told no one has seen or heard from Dick at all - after weeks of Dick being gone, let me stress this - is simply to say "He'll turn up."

Like Dick is a stray cat who'll come back home when he gets hungry.

It is very heavily implied that Bruce has been hyperfocused on tracking down Two-Face in that scene. He's seated at the computer, doesn't look away when Alfred brings a tray of food - and there's another tray already there, to all appearances entirely untouched - or when Alfred points out [correctly] that due to Bruce offering and then yanking away hope Dick has no reason to come back, all while the monitors are full of images and info on Two-Face.

And yet, when he gets Dick's second note - and he gets it fairly quickly; he was likely working in his study when Dick slipped back into the Cave to leave it and got found by Alfred - he drops Two-Face immediately and goes hunting for Shrike instead, and seems at least annoyed by the fact Alfred just let Dick leave.

Now, it could be argued that Bruce went after Shrike because Dick's note said the man had a lead on finding Two-Face, but Bruce's phrasing is of interest. "You let him go back there?" Giving emphasis in comic book text is often hit or miss, and there is none given for that line on the page but whenever that specific phrase is used aloud the emphasis is almost always on the word back. Occasonally with a secondary emphasis on let. Which becomes 'You let him go back there?" and that implies shock at the least, if not outright concern.

And when Bruce does find Shrike - in time to see Dick in some serious trouble and answering the demand of 'Who are you' with "Robin" - he decides to announce his presence with "You heard what he said. His name is Robin. He's my partner."

idk, I just. I like seeing stories from all perspectives. I've seen this one from Dick's - and in part from Alfred's - but it doesn't give me Bruce's and I just really want to know what was going through Bruce's head during those weeks of Dick's disappearance. And during the weeks before that, when Dick was in recovery and rehab. And I doubt I ever will >w>;;

[personae-obscura]

Well, it's an emergency. Maybe they're short-staffed at Arkham- entirely plausible, or maybe they're banking on the fact that Harvey seemed to open up to Imogen to some degree - she seemed to know how to talk to him, which made that plausible as well.

Either way, there is one recently-returned Harvey Dent, or Two-Face, if he'd have it his way, and he is fuming. His posture is rigid, affixed firmly to the chair, and this time there's glass between them. Not even the least sensible person in the place would volunteer to walk into his cell, which adds him to a list of inmates to avoid that's getting to be a mile long. The medication he's been given has been hit-or-miss, but overall unhelpful.

"For fuck's sake. Please tell me you didn't drag this poor woman out of bed just to see us. The coin said yes to a counselor - you didn't have to go grab this one."

A strange consideration given that he's very recently killed two people.

@twcfaces

Well. That explained why she woke up with luminous green creeping into the edges of her visions and a stabbing pain in her neck. And the post it note on her notebook simply saying DON'T TAKE THE PEN. Aim for indifference. The situation must have been dire for another iteration of her to actually acknowledge and use her own Strangeness as her former patients called it. This is what she gets for inviting chaos into her life.

She pulled out her fresh notebook, it seemed to be a good idea to keep her notes for Harvey and Two Face separate, and the pen borrowed form the staff. Not as smooth as her beloved fountain pen and horrifically scratchy but it would do. Better than being stabbed in the neck again. At least she got the time to make herself look put together. Sensible clothes, nothing that could be grabbed at and easy to run in.

"Two Face, I assume." She greeted, cool and calm and most importantly neutral. "I have been assigned to Harvey and therefore to yourself though admittedly I wasn't expecting to meet you so soon."

She jotted down a few notes. Mainly taking note of his posture and word choice as well as a reminder to herself to keep to statements. Two Face's compulsion to coin flip was likely worse and more easily indulged than Harvey's.

"If there is an issue with my presence we can find another therapist to work with you. If you have concerns, share them. Therapy is a delicate balance, it doesn't work one side is uncomfortable."

And she thought Claire had been a pain to converse with... at least Two Fave was currently limited in his movements and probably wouldn't sneak a kitchen knife into sessions.

[like-rain-or-confetti]

🦇🦇🦇I have another Batman request! Rouges find out you've been sent to Arkham because you were involved with them (but the don't know that you're not involved with thier crimes)

Thank you again and remember you're amazing writer!💜💜🦇🦇🦇

So I'll stick to the rogues who actually get put in Arkham for obvious reasons😅 also warning: this is going to be with the perspective that Gotham's stigmas are what's running the show- not professional opinion. This is not my personal opinion and whilst I've done a little research for this, I may get stuff wrong because I am not a professional 😅

Arkham was supposed to be the most prestigious standards of a mental institution. It failed this standard stupendously and Gothams finest...? Well...they associate the 'crazy staying with the crazy'. Naturally these peoples significant others must be just as mad as thesse criminals...right? Your head is slammed against the GCPD car. You let out a scream as you were put in hand cuffs. You were being sent to Arkham for an evaluation.

The Riddler: The Riddler stuck to his guns, deeming himself sane. He never needed help with anything! Everyone and their mother in the GCPD had heard those rants. It was hard to understand what you saw in the Riddler given his narcissism and how his OCD makes him behave. It was even more difficult to understand how you could let him cause the chaos that he did. Naturally that must mean there is also something wrong with you. "Unhand them, right now!" The Riddler bellowed. For once he was actually frightened, not for him self but for you. Taking him there under the premise of being mentally ill is one thing, taking you there? No, he couldn't accept that. He wouldn't. He couldn't handle your cries and pleas. He couldn't watch as you were pushed onto the car so you could be cuffed. He couldn't handle the way the officers were far too rough for you. So he kicked and fought every step of the way demanding you be set free. His demands went unheard.

Scarecrow: Jonathan Crane was diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Disorder- a sociopath. An individual of many many masks. Never fully connected to anyone or anything. In everyone's eyes that meant he couldn't love and feel like everyone else. A highly manipulative individual, he must have his hooks in you in one way or another. Have you got a mental illness he is preying on? Sending you to Arkham with him might give Gotham the answer. Jonathan rarely made much protest after being caught, as though he never ever lost control. He never lost his cool until you were arrested. It was then he was very clearly bothered. In fact, given his clenched jaw and heated glare, he was livid. "Is this how far you've fallen? So far that you will hospitalise the innocent?"

Two-Face: Having a boyfriend who was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder often meant two different reactions. Atleast that was most occasions. However both Harvey and Harv had the same reaction seeing you being forced into handcuffs and they weren't quiet about it. They were enraged. Fighting and swearing. Demanding that you were let go or at the very least brought to him. He couldn't handle your panicked tears. Harvey recites law after law fighting your case. Meanwhile Harv' is threatening them with everything he has. Nothing about it is pleasant.

Black Mask: Sadistic Personality Disorder. He enjoyed people's pain and suffering. However you seemed to be the exception. He didn't enjoy it at all. In fact, your fear made him incredibly violent. Lashing out and doing damage even with his hands handcuffed together. He demanded no one touched you. Anyone who dared would be made to eat their own hands, one piece at a time. His threats had no boundaries and it did make officers rather uncomfortable. After that, he'll demand you're brought to him. Nothing else. He gives the officers or Arkham staff anything to work with. "You bring them here. That's it. You don't? See what happens. Scram."

Mad Hatter: As a Paranoid Schizophrenic, Jervis is on high alert but focusing on the most random of things. However he tries to remain focused on his partner who's screaming and struggling against the officers. He looks to an officer. "They do not go to Wonderland." Jervis told him. "Only Alice can go to Wonderland." It seemed like an attempt to have you freed but to no avail. Furthermore, Jervis slipped into Wonderland by seemingly only the mere mention of it. Every word no longer coherent but instead ramblings.

[kariachi]

#i think u were the person that said once that its possible kevins mom was a rooter right?#i think *that* wouldve been an interesting thing to explore#and i know that they also had thoughts about explaining how aggregor was part of it#talking abt him being some like. genetically modified clone of kevin that was quickly aged#and like i *love* the shit that happened with argit i think its great that we got such a good luck at his character#but like... he almost feels like the only one that really had anything happen to him#like u were saying what the FUCK was the point of ragnarok if kevins dad wasnt even real#why do so many ppl know osmosians if they were all fake#assuming kevins mom isnt a rooter then how is SHE affected by her husband not being real??#its so fucking sad and so fucking FRUSTRATING that it couldve been SO interesting#but it was just. shoehorned in and had no consequences and affected absolutely nothing before OR after it happened#ben 10 (via @expired-blueberries)

I was! Her existence doesn't really make sense with the Rooters arc- we already know they would have to be able to get access to her to have fucked with her head enough to make Devin a thing, so why not just go to her to grab the information of where Kevin went rather than start shit with the local Plumbers? And if she was a Rooter then why not just fucking ask her? What happened between Absolute Power and Rooters of All Evil that neither of these were apparently options? We'll never know, because they only cared about retconning. And the whole thing with Harvey is... I did a whole post that touched on it I can't remember if I tagged, but Kevin's side of the story in UA aligns more both with what we know of what Kevin was capable of in OS, what he's like as a person even when he's gone around the bend, what's normal for young runaways, and what we get confirmed of his backstory by the Reboot. What Harvey's story lines up well with is Servantis's brand of gaslighting and guilt tripping to manipulate people, especially when one considers this is probably the closest Kevin came to trying to off Ben again and Harvey's appearance and argument did nothing but rile him up even further.

Add in that Ragnarok was supposedly supposed to be a Rooter and... I kinda have a headcanon, when it comes to Rooters-compliant stuff, that Kev's supposed mom was in truth his handler- since he was a sleeper agent- and that the whole Ragnarok deal was Servantis 1) getting rid of a Rooter who either gained a moral or tried to start shit, and 2) checking to see if Kevin was still, ya know, murdery, given it'd been over six months and he still had only even tried to really go at Ben once. It would certainly explain why she had no real reaction to her house getting wrecked, and why she just suddenly decided then was the time to exposition dump about how Devin died.

And that would have been such a fucking storyline! Kevin comes back to town to see his mom except, nope! Was never his mom, he's been a sleeper agent, she's his handler, and now that it's certain he's failed in his 'get close then snap and murder Ben' mission here's the Rooters to bring him back to the Null Void so they can work on the next plan. He manages to escape, memories repaired, and knowing Ben is the big first target sends the Tennysons on a wild goose chase as far as finding him goes while he goes to get Argit, only coming clean to some degree about what's going on-as in canon- when he realizes that he's not going to be able to get to Manny and Helen himself.

You could have the arc otherwise go the way it did, and it still wouldn't be great, but it would fill the 'okay but what about his parents' plothole and give the Rooters more background since viewers can look back and go 'oh holy shit' as far as fucking AF.

Meanwhile, if you don't want her to be a Rooter then that just means that, like you said, the question of 'okay but what about her, what about the fact somebody came in and implanted a whole fake husband into her head' still exists and, as with everything else, is never even hinted at.

Even fucking Kevin, who's the focus of the damn arc, only gets so much. He certainly didn't get any lasting effects we get to see. And like, there is Kevin stuff in the arc, there's good Kevin stuff, but so much is focused on the Tennysons and Argit and giving the backstory that we hardly get to see it. Kevin is so smart in this arc, and he runs a fucking double agent job like a dream against Servantis, his biggest hindrance is literally the Tennysons. And yet. Alas. Can't risk taking away from the two big goals of the arc- retconning everything we know about him and the hybrid Plumbers Helpers, and go 'look look we remember Ken 10 we remember that flashforward do you remember that flashforward'.

Even before we get into everything else, it was a fucking waste.

Annoying thing with the Rooters arc is that we never do find out what the fuck the Rooters had planned in the long run. Because the first-and-foremost matter is destroying Ben, yes, but Servantis may as well be holding up a big glowing neon sign saying "this is step three in a greater, larger plan". He grabs Kevin in the first episode of the arc and is talking about using him to make more amalgams, when discussing Kevin seemingly coming back into the fold he describes him as 'coming along nicely' like this is just a step in his training, when he sends the kids out after him in the flashback he refers to the Rooters 'subtle manipulations' and how Ben can't fuck them up, he's literally forming a group of hybrid child soldiers as if he couldn't just snipe the fucking 10-yo as he walks out of his elementary school, or fucking recruit him like the Plumbers already end up doing.

This is not shit you get from someone whose entire deal is 'this one child is too dangerous to live'! You don't see 'child has superweapon' and go 'well then I'll have to transform myself, my staff, and a host of children into hybrids through painful experiments and then train and damn near mindcontrol the children into going and killing the kid'. You don't talk about plans for making more, you don't talk like when the chips are down the big problem is the kid might get in your way, or like the kids you've sent out to kill him are still in training.

These fuckers had Intentions and Plots and they got completely dismantled before we could get an actual answer on what they were longterm.

[edelweiss-coffee]

29 & 12 ?

i answered 12 here :')

29) favorite line/passage you wrote this year? (i am so fucking happy someone asked this)

i have two becos my two biggest stories are so different from one another, first, from Triple Dog, my music based story:

“I don’t know what to do, and I’m always in the dark…. We’re living in a powder keg and giving off sparks….”

Mike wrapped his arms around Will’s waist, and Will lifted his arms around Mike’s neck. Mike pulled Will closer, until their bodies touched, and Will rested his head on Mike’s chest.

“I really need you tonight…”

“Forever’s gonna start tonight,” Mike sang along.

“Forever’s gonna start tonight… Once upon a time I was falling in love… Now I’m only falling apart…”

“Nothing I can do, a total eclipse of the heart,” he sang softly into Will’s hair.

The other boys watched from the sofa, seemingly in awe of their friends. 

And my favorite from I Wanna Be Anything You've Lost (That You Might Be Looking For), my goldfinch era of writing:

Will figured he was just lovesick, brought to his knees in metaphor by any tall black-haired boy, by all faults of his own. He knew the blows of familiarity would’ve softened years ago, had he given up hope. 

Nevertheless, he’d scoured the earth for the pieces of him that didn’t love Mike Wheeler. He’d left no stone unturned, and came up empty handed. He had half a mind to fix his gaze to the ground-- so as not to give himself away for the millionth little time--but was struck by the false-hopeful words of Harvey again.

Keep your eyes up. Wouldn't want to pass your soulmate by.

He met the other boy's eyes and his heart felt complete again. He hadn't acknowledged the mild, ever-present ache in his chest since the last time he looked into those eyes. His chest swelled in a familiar ache as the deep umber eyes met his own. Pink cheeks spotted with freckles, a softly hooked nose, and a gentle, blushed smile Will knew all too well were but two feet away from him.

this was long and i apologize, i write sporadically and in tiny paragraphs. thank you so much for this ask <3