#I guess i accidentally saved this as a draft instead of ever posting it??

[enigmakiwi]

Even if we pretend for a moment that this really is about banning porn and helping women: any attempt to ban porn will go about as well as prohibition did. The way to help women victimized by the sex industry is to regulate that industry, not ban it, not regulate the consumption of it— just regulate the industry.

What happened when we banned alcohol? People started making it secretly, illegally. Unregulated because it was illegal. They started drinking it at secret places, illegally. The people making booze weren't subject to any oversight because the whole thing was illegal anyway and there was nothing stopping them from making extremely dangerous or contaminated product.

Now, if we ban porn, the same thing will happen. People will still make it, because of course they will, but with no regulations in place and no reason to NOT do terrible things like human trafficking. The whole thing is illegal, so why bother trying to be ethical at all? People are still gonna want porn, and they're gonna get it from the worst places imaginable: scum who don't give a shit about following the law or being ethical. The sex industry is already terrible, but it will become even worse because the few part of the sex industry which aren't absolute trash will become illegal, too. And it will also become worse because there will no longer even be a choice to be a legal, ethical porn/sex company or group (they're rare but do exist) or independent worker/operation. That just leaves the darkest parts who already didn't give a fuck, and they will grow and thrive.

Think of the porn industry as if it were a whole bunch of weeds. What happens if you kill off everything with herbicides, but one kind of weed is resistant to the toxins? Those weeds take over. The weeds multiply and thrive like never before. You've created a garden of weeds, and your herbicide is ineffective against the whole thing, now. It's an uphill, unending battle, a Sisyphean struggle to destroy them all that will never end because the roots are too hardy and the herbicide doesn't work.

Remember: it doesn't matter what happens, people WILL continue consuming porn. If there's no easy way to do it, they will FIND a way. We aren't just going to magically stop wanting it and go "oh well!" People still made and drank alcohol during prohibition, and people still make and consume illegal drugs, including those that were once legal. Porn is a different beast because it can exist online, unlike substances like alcohol, so we shouldn't treat it exactly the same, but we need to treat it similarly.

And to top it all off, this isn't even actually about porn in the first place. So it doesn't even really matter. But anyone who has some kind of misguided idea that this will actually have any positive effect at all, be that for women exploited by the sex industry or the safety of children or the "morality of humanity" or whatever, please hear me when I say that it won't work. We've been down this path before.

Well shit, the Republicans brought a certain anti-online porn bill back to the table.

The Interstate Obscenity Definition Act.

This should alarm you guys.

[crossbackpoke-check]

Substance, Shadow, and Spirit [remixed, abridged] by Tao Yuanming

[autisticfanperson]

I'm writing this ask AGAIN because tumblr mobile decided to reload when I left to get a link lol.

Anyway I wanted to give you something lighter after the "dragons live with their natural predators" thing 😅

I don't know if you've ever watched RTTE, I know it has flaws and many debate whether it's canon or not, but it is canon in my heart ^^ anyway it's funny httyd 3 tries to push the narrative that Toothless would give 0 fucks about Hiccup and would rather seem to (allegedly??) get mad at him for coming after him in THW

And I'm going to point to the previous series AND RTTE as a whole, as well as the other two movies but for now, I want you to remember the scene where Toothless comes to save Hiccup from Hookfang from the first movie. And when Toothless nearly drowns towards the end

Now, there's this episode in RTTE named Diving for Dragons, Hiccup made a contraption that's a makeshift submarine of basically a upside down giant cauldron with a little reinforced amber window, because there's a chained dragon on the seafloor that he has to free.

Let's just say that a certain villain messes up their plans and the submarine wench is thrown into the water... With Toothless chained to it.

Toothless, being able to stay underwater a little longer than Hiccup, tries to free him, shoots around desperately and Hiccup PRACTICALLY BEGS him to leave! To save himself!!

So... One would expect Toothless to do just that, right? Wrong. He bumps his head on the little window against Hiccup's hand.

And the line Hiccup gives? "I know bud. I wouldn't leave you, either."

Not to mention RTTE explores Hiccup having to deal with potentially Stoick DYING. He wouldn't be that reckless to just... Hoard dragons on Berk, that would be SILLY. Or to give up against a guy that would be a threat to dragons, or to their ideologies.

FUCK MY HEART. HERE, now you can watch it as well, consider the previous ramble a ALT text 😅😅😅

okay i wrote this reply a HOT minute ago, and i guess i saved it as a draft instead of posting it?? somehow?? anyways, sorry that this is just now being posted 😭😭 BRO. I ACCIDENTALLY SAVED IT AS A DRAFT AGAIN. I WROTE THIS LIKE A WEEK AGO. im so sorry 😞💔

oh my gods wait you are so right. i love rtte i ALSO thinks its canon, and that episode is like one of my favs.

like its just even more proof that thw would never realistically happen bro… UGH i love this episode.

youre so awesome for pointing this out to me im going to be thinking about it all day

[marsmarbles]

I hope you guys don’t mind more writing ‘cause I want to do it more often. This was meant to be a request for Gem and Skizz interacting, but I accidentally posted my work in progress instead of saving it as a draft lol. So uhhh sorry. Imma try something new and sprinkle in some art to go along with the story(since I’m assuming you guys wanna see that more than writing)

What Makes Me So Special?

Word count: 900

It was late morning when Skizz entered the detective’s base living room looking down in the dumps. Gem was sitting on the couch to Skizz’s left, which was more of a wooden bench. There wasn’t a lot of options for furniture. It was either a rock couch or a wooden couch, and Skizz knew Grian and Gem wouldn’t let a rock couch in their living room slide.

Gem was wiping down her brand new diamond sword with a white cloth(which won’t ever be white again, probably), which she had just taken for a test drive overnight. It was stained with monster guts and dark, almost brownish purple zombie blood. It was truly disgusting, but Gem seemed unbothered, letting it seep into her long, pleated skirt as she held her cyan blade on her lap.

Gem didn’t even have to look up to examine Skizz’s expression, she knew something was wrong. No way in the whole Minecraft multiverse would Skizz walk into a room without so much as a hi.

Skizz plopped down next to her on the couch with a long winded sigh and a grunt as his bottom made impact with the thick wood of the couch. He continued to sigh and readjust his sitting position like he had forgotten how to sit correctly, bobbing his eyes back in forth, trying to catch Gem’s eye. He wanted to talk about something that was bothering him, but for some reason he wanted Gem to strike up the conversation. Then, he began whistling, which could be seen as a death sentence. As skilled as a fighter Gem was, she’s wasn’t afraid to give her friends a good whack if they annoyed her.

Instead, Gem compacted herself like a shrimp to put her face closer to her sword, pointlessly scrubbing more violently in one spot, which was very much clean by now. Her eye twitched in annoyance to the sound of Skizz’s airy, ear piercing whistle. Don’t get her wrong, she loved Skizz, but she had just pulled an all nighter fighting monsters and really didn’t have the energy to deal with anyone right now. She had the eye bags and unkept hair to show for it.

After tolerating Skizz for a good long while(and being on the verge of stabbing him), Gem finally gave in. “What’s wrong, Skizz?” Gem groaned.

“GEMSTONE!!” Skizz shouted a little too loud. He had been holding in his words for what felt like forever. He most definitely looked constipated. “Y’know how I really like Impulse??”

“Yeah…?” Gem replied, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘and?’. What was new? She’s heard this story a bagillion times. Skizz really likes Impulse. Skizz pretty much told her every second of every day. Or at least he’s brought it up enough for Gem to give up on counting.

“Well….” Skizz hesitated. He actually seemed serious for once. Or was it sad? Maybe it was the tone in his voice. “I guess I feel kinda lame ‘round him, y’know. He’s just so smart and cool and I genuinely love to be around the guy. He’s special y’know….Special to me…..I just don’t feel special….I can’t build a house without it looking ugly. I can’t make a red stone thingy-ma-jig and have it work. And I can’t even fight good. I can’t even muster up the courage to tell him how I feel about him…” Skizz took a shaky breath. He sniffled, tilted his head up, and blinked a lot, trying to suck back the tears attempting to escape his eyes.

He continued. “How can I possibly believe that he loves me too…..what makes me so special?…..I guess….I’m just scared he’s faking cuz he pities me.” He huffed and gripped his pant legs, trying to fight back the tears. It would usually kill a ‘real’ man to be this open.

“Skizz….” Gem’s expression shifted to concern. Now she felt horrible for trying to ignore him. No wonder Skizz was so abnormally hesitant to speak with her, he was trying to talk about feelings of inadequacy. She stared at the floor in contemplation, then drew a long breath, readying her advice. “Well, if I know Impulse(which I do) he loves you just as much.” Gem gave Skizz a small but comforting smile. “And if I know Impulse(which, again, I do) he thinks you’re special….very special.” Gem gave Skizz a nudge in the shoulder.

“But how do you know-“ Skizz attempted to retort.

“Impulse is smart, right?” Gem finished.

Skizz felt his face heat up. His halo, which floated just above his head, began to rotate slowly. He broke eye contact with Gem out of embarrassment, who continued to smile at him.

Gem shoved Skizz off the wooden couch bench, trying to break the awkward silence. “NOW GO GET THAT MAN! He’s waiting for you, Skizz! I assure you !” She projected reassuringly. Skizz was just able to catch himself. “Uhhh- YEAH!!” Skizz shuffled out of his awkward landing position and struck a triumphant pose. He turned back to Gem. “Thanks, Gemstone!! This little chat really helped me out! And it was kinda neat to let my feelings out. Imma go find Impulse!!! Seeya!!” Skizz ran off and out the door with his confidence restored. Gem let herself fall back into her seat on the couch, smiling proudly to herself for a job well done. She shed a tear of joy at the thought:

I’m going to have two dads!

[cheritzssebba]

Secret Ending Three - Chapter Eight: Two Steps Forward

I'm getting really bored of this chapter..and I accidentally posted it instead of saving it as a draft so it's really annoying me to find it under all my posts. So I'll just write it so it's out my way -3- if I do it poorly, I can always edit it in AO3

I don't remember the last time I left the house this early. Rubbing our eyes, stomachs full on Yeonho's million course breakfast, it's still surreal to be out while the streets are so empty and the sun has barely even risen yet.

I do hate this sensation... I can't help but be reminded of when I was trapped in that world with my bear, without anyone else. The eerie quiet sends chills up and down my spine. I'm not sure who I'm trying to comfort when I instinctively grab his hand as we step out of the limo, huddling together for warmth.

After we all were standing on the pavement, waving goodbye to Yuri and Tei, I heard a sudden crunch, and then a loud gasp, and, "Nooooooooooooo!!"

I quickly turned around. "Yeonho?? Is everything alright??" I'm sure that must have been the loudest thing I've ever heard come from his mouth. Is he okay??

"What's wrong, Yeonho??" Red exclaimed, rushing over to him.

He's frozen, crouched onto the ground. It does remind me of when he found John the cat, but there isn't a cat, or even a creature in sight. "Noooooo!!" he cried again, and he reached out towards something on the ground. "I crushed a snail..!"

Oh... I hadn't noticed, nor do I think anyone else did at all, but if you look close enough, there lies the crushed shell of a snail next to his foot...

"Oh..! That's...um." Snails are a bit gross. I guess I'm glad it's not a spider.

"Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry..." I hear Yeonho whispering to himself.

"Oh, it's just a snail. I thought you were hurt," Lance said coldly. "Then come on, let's keep going." With that, he turned back around and marched on towards the academy.

"It wasn't doing anything! Just because it's small doesn't mean we can just step on it!" Yeonho argued. He picks up the broken corpse gently and breathes in and out.

I never considered something like this before, but...I guess it is a bit sad, isn't it? Just because a snail is gross or you can go your whole day without even thinking about one, does that really mean that it's death is meaningless? I don't know... I've never thought about it before.

"That's really thoughtful, Yeonho. You didn't mean to do it though, you shouldn't feel too bad about it," I said, patting his shoulder as a way to comfort him.

"Thank you, Eri," he replied, trying to smile. But he frowned sadly again as he walked towards, but not through, the school gate. I watched him kneel down at the grass, whispering "ashes to ashes, dust to dust," apparently giving the snail a tiny funeral. He, Red and I all bowed our heads in respect. My bear followed suit afterwards.

Once ready, Yeonho led the way to catch up with Lance, and my bear nudged me and whispered, "that was weird."

"Yeah. It was, wasn't it? But it was a bit cute that we did it together," I giggled, taking Red's hand and walking through the school gates. My bear just nodded in response.

The halls are so empty this early and the clouds outside so grey, it's hard to believe it's even a school day. But the five of us all make our way to freshman class N to start the day.

"Are you excited to start school?" Red asked my bear. "I won't be able to be with you guys all day, since I go to a different classroom, but see you again at lunchtime!"

"I guess," my bear responds, clinging to my side. I think he's a bit shy, but he'll warm up to everything eventually, I'm sure.

"Then I'll see you later, okay? I gotta go speak to the drama club president quickly, so I'll let you guys get on with your tour of the school," said Red, waving. I worry slightly about him leaving my side, but I won't be alone.

"Please familiarise yourself with your surroundings," Lance says to my bear, dumping his schoolbag under his seat and putting on his teacher voice. "This is the classroom you will be spending the most time in. If you get lost or forget where to go, do not worry. You can always ask the students around you or any teachers about where you're meant to be. Shall we give you a tour of the rest of the building?"

My teddy was about to respond, hopefully a yes, but we were interrupted by a hesitant knock at the classroom door. We all turned to see a senior shyly open it and stare at us with wide eyes. We're the only ones in the classroom yet. What's she doing here?

"Um. Excuse me." Her voice is quiet and her eyes only focus on the floor. "Um. You're Lance, right?"

He gave an exhausted sigh at the question. "Correct. And I am not interested if you are asking me out on a date. No exceptions."

"Um. No. It-it's not that," the girl stuttered, twisting a strand of hair around her fingers. "It's nothing like that. It's something else. I need to speak to you about something...important."

Maybe it's about his student government duties? He rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed, and says finally, "alright. But make it quick."

"I- um- I... I'll try?" she stammered and followed him quickly out of the classroom.

I looked between my bear and Yeonho after he left and asked, "Yeonho, have you seen that girl anywhere before?" But he doesn't respond... "Yeonho?"

"Hm? Oh, uh no," he replied, startled, after turning away from the window. "Sorry. I was still thinking about that snail."

"Aw, I'm sure it's happy in snail heaven."

"I don't know if I believe in a heaven, but I do believe in a hell," my bear says.

Papers and posters decorate the four walls around him and he's especially captivated by a painting of a dandelion at the back of the classroom. "Don't we have this one at home?"

"Huh! Oh yeah, we do!" I replied. I don’t really look at the classroom that much so I hadn't noticed until he'd pointed it out. I follow him to the back and take a look myself.

The majority of the decorations are maths formulas, which would probably have helped me if I knew they were there. Eh, never mind.

But when I look closer at them... "Isn't that actually Lance's handwriting?" Am I wrong? All of the maths posters are written by Lance. I'm sure that's his handwriting.

"Oh yes, it is! I never noticed that before!" exclaimed Yeonho. "I'm sure in my world it was different. Wow, Lance... He did all of this?

"Hey, Lance!" Yeonho beamed, rushing out of the classroom to call him. He stuck his head out the door to look left and right. "... Lance?" But from what I could hear, there was no one there, not even the girl that called for him.

"Lance..?" I called into the void behind Yeonho. He said he'd be quick... "I guess he's gone."

"Hm," my bear mumbled and tugged at my sleeve. He looks all cute and bashful like that.

"You okay?"

"Eh... Are we still going to do that tour?" he asked without making eye contact. He keeps fiddling with my blazer like a little kid.

"Oh, um. I hope so. I have no idea when he might be back though, so I'm not sure. I'll text him-"

"You can't."

"Why not?"

"There," he said. His finger pointed towards Lance's seat. On it, Lance's phone.

"Oh... Um, he'll be back for it soon, right?"

"I don't know," Yeonho commented. "He might be going to a student government meeting. And plus, he has to do his discipline guide duties, so he probably won't be back in time."

Lance... What are we gonna do?

"Then...we'll look after his things for him while he's gone," I sighed. Sadly, I watched my bear's expression turn to a dejected frown. "Are you okay with that..?" Mute, he shrugged at me and kicked at the floor. Is he disappointed?

"Hey," called Yeonho, "don't be sad. We can still do it without him."

"... We can?"

"Yeah, of course! Lance knows the school like the back of his hand, but we know some stuff too! What do you think? Why don't the three of us go and show you around together?"

Offering a hand, Yeonho stood like a big brother above my bear with a kind smile on his face. Hesitantly, he looked to me for reassurance and slowly took the hand given to him... Since when did my dolls get so cute??

And just like that, the day went just as smoothly as planned. The tour went just fine, but although we searched most of the classrooms, we still couldn't find Lance... Will he be okay wherever he is?

By the time all the other students had started filing in, we're already finished touring and are sat chatting in the classroom, waiting for everyone else. I check my phone but when I look at Lance's desk, his phone is still sitting there, exactly where we left it.

The bell rings. It's the start of our first class of the day and the start of my bear's first class ever. But I start to worry when the teacher begins the lesson and there are still people who are missing...

Where are Soi and Shinbi?

I send them a text on our new group chat: "Hey guys! Lesson's already started and there's someone I want you to meet. Are you not in today?"

"Do you- Uh...um," I start to my bear on my right, about to ask him about Soi and Shinbi, but I don't know what to say when I look at him trying to write the date in his notebook. Does he know how to hold a pen properly?

"Hey," I say, and I take the pen from him. "You should hold it like this. See?" I explain, modelling the grip with his pen. "It's easier to control it like this, where you put it between your thumb and forefinger like that. You try."

"Okay..." he said, looking a bit annoyed, but he obeyed anyway and tried holding it how I showed him...awkwardly. He frowns at the page and sticks his tongue out, pen shaking in his hand. Has he broken a sweat? Oh dear... I think the handwriting was better before.

"You know what, if its hard for you, you don't have to do it that way. I just thought it would help, but you should just do it whatever way you feel comfortable with." Would Lance have dealt with this situation better? Whoops.

Snatching my attention away comes the vibrating desk from the notification on my phone. A message on the group chat from Soi: "sick".

Hmm... Well that's sad! I wonder why she didn't tell me. But the chat is showing that Shinbi's read the message as well, does that mean she's sick too, since they live together?

I write back: "Oh no! Hope you get better soon, want me to take notes for you?" The light to show that the message was read displays brightly and instantly, but I don't get another message on the chat, not for the rest of the entire day...

The bell rings for lunch, and, "Eri," I hear. Caught up in my thoughts about Soi and Shinbi, Yeonho calls me.

"I've got a surprise," he beams, the biggest smile on his face I think I've ever seen him show. He opens his bag. "You looked a little down for some reason. I hope this can cheer you up."

Two cute bento boxes are revealed and set out onto our desks before he pushes our desks together so that we can all eat right next to each other. He also pulls from his bag two little flatware sets decorated with cute characters - mine pink, my bear's purple. Adorable!

"Oh, Yeonho! I didn't know you did this, that's so nice!" I cry, witnessing the arrangement in the boxes of vegetable, fish and rice. My favourite bibimbap. "Yes, I didn't want the first day back to be too stressful with dealing with the cafeteria so I made this for you guys," he smiled, clearly proud of himself in his own little adorable way.

"That's really kind of you," I said, taking out my chopsticks. "Oh, it's fine, you don't have to worry about it. I can do it every day if you like?" "Every day? Really, Yeonho??" My eyes widened. "Yeah." But Yeonho's face remained the same, calm and unfazed. "Yeonho, that's so..."

A little voice on my right. "... Thank you." I see my bear, spoon clutched in his right hand and the little lunchbox in his left. Already, grains of rice sticking to his lower lip, his face, eyes wider than the headlights, reminds me of a baby deer.

Yeonho reaches back into his bag and hands him a napkin with another sweet smile, and says, "you're welcome."

We continued the rest of the break, and the rest of the day, just perfectly. But I was surprised to see a text on our group chat from Lance...on Red's phone?

[lavenderfairiez]

Hey! Sorry if it’s weird to just drop by here but I’ve seen you post about your fic updates a couple of times and noticed the fic isn’t ever showing up on the ao3 front page when you update? Just wanted to check if you‘re intentionally posting updates dating them back to the original fic publication date or if it’s accidental, since that makes it way harder for people to find your fic and/or see it updated (currently the fic info is saying your last update date was the day you first published the fic)

If it’s not intentional, my best guess as to what’s causing this is that maybe you wrote/saved the chapters as drafts on ao3 a while back, since if you do that they’ll automatically be dated to the day you made the draft instead of the actual publication date when you post them (no idea why it does this, it’s extremely annoying). You can change this by just setting the chapter publication date to the actual posting date, it’s right at the top of the window when you edit it, just below chapter title and chapter number!

oMg I didn't even notice that! Tysm 😭 I just updated it to have the correct dates! This is my first time actually posting on AO3 so I really appreciate it 😭 :)

[volturissideslut]

Can you do the guards meeting their human mate during New Moon when Bella goes to save Edward. Maybe their mate is Bellas sister or friend or something.

𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎 𝖌𝖚𝖆𝖗𝖉

In this you're bellas sister. Also currently listening to Stephen Sanchez's album "what was, not now" and was vibing and a bunch of words came to my mind so enjoy my word vomit

also I keep accidentally clicking post instead of save draft so if its incomplete just wait a minute

Alec

Was actually zoned out until he glanced at you and his world came to a crashing halt

his banal daydreams freezing like an idle painting in the background as images of you and him for eternity consume him and in that moment all he knew was you

he was surprisingly content with that too and it's only after that that the situation dawns on him

you

oh glorious you

human

trapped between a vicious king and a vicious girl, all to consumed by an eternity of her own, about to trade her sister for her lover

Alec's stomach lurched as he dreamed up a perfect nightmare, one leaving him so inconsolable he was unable to contain himself for the first time in forever

heaving forward with a newfound desperation, he stops the swan girl he hadn't cared enough to learn the name on as a wrathful fire burned within him

they would not end his eternal love before he even got to know them, it would be a tragedy to great to bear

Marcus, gifed with the ability to see these eternal binds between lovers, halts Aro in his actions

reaching out his scarred and shaky hands, Aro grants Alec a favour - no doubt to be returned soon - and allows him to take you to his chaimbers

Jane

Jane - just the name sends shivers down the spine of those who know, those who have heard, and those who can guess

not you though

it confounds her that you can look at her with such soft curiosity as she leads your party to the overzealous throne room

surely you cannot feel the connection? human concepts of emotion are pathetically watered down compared to the theatrics of a vampiric spectrum of infatuated devotion to sickening abhorrence

one she has delivered the Cullens back to the king she let's it finally weigh on her - she has met her forever love

casting a glance to her master, she allows him into her mind with a simple touch and he immediately gratifys her allowing her two minutes only to pull yiu to the side eventually but for now she is needed

she has waited for you for forever, she can wait five minutes more; though she is surprisingly chipper, allowing a miniature smile to grace her features

unlike the usually sadistic ones, this one held a worlds worth of impatience as she would only take her eyes off of yiu for a minute at a time

though she could not touch you, she could not feel you, for now it was enough to listen to your heartbeat and know you were alive and had finally arrived

not that she'd ever tell you this, as for now she must remain stoic and not let your sister in on her little secret love

oh she couldn't wait to have you all alone away from that pest you call family

Demetri

Silence replaced his ever racing thoughts as a wonderous scent made itself prominently known in his mind

the opera of the elevator had left an era of awkwardness around the group bu still he found himself subconsciously inching further from his guard friend and more toward you, the source of his unbridled euphoria

without any hesitation his hand enclosed around your wrist as the elevator chimed and opened

neglecting to realise his meal was arriving at the castle, he practically dragged you to his chambered only interrupting his mission to give a sharp glare to Felix when he called for him

for now he just needs you

he needs to hold you close to his chest, wrapped tightly in your arms while he gently explains anything and everything to you

Felix would have to infer the situation for himself and tell the kings about his whereabouts

surely he his absence would be excused, he was not necessary for this one and the unforseen circumstance of meeting his mate needed to be accounted for. He would not allow her to witness the horrors of a trial before they had even spoken yet

Felix

Ignited deep within him, the fire and passion for his infitiy grows the moment he lays his eyes onto you

looking into your eyes was ethereal, a bond worth more that all the gems and treasures in the world growing deeper and deeper and the seconds pass

neither of you had said a word to each other and yet there was some agreement between the two of you that, be it God, the universe or whatever lays dormant behind the story's of the stars had placed you both on this earth for one reason: eachother

it was destiny in his eyes and perhaps even yours that you two would be each others infinities

the light in his eyes and the joy in his heart was rejuvenated the moment your eyes and souls connected and already he dreaded a life with you not by his side

any distance could not be far enough that he would do all withing his power to return to you

He could not care less about the other girl here for her mate- he has met his infinity and that was all that mattered to him now

okay wow this is an edit from about an hour later and I've stopped listening to the music and read it and I hate it

[darkmasterofcupcakes]

Accidentally sent this before instead of saving a draft, but this is Beakley for the character meme from anon. I’m assuming they meant her 2017 counterpart.

First impression: “I actually kind of vaguely remember Beakley from the old show, and I don’t remember really liking her, but I guess I’ll give this one a sho-Oh my goodness, I love her so much. I can already tell she’s going to be a good mix of a reasonable authority figure and comically serious, and I wish those tropes got mixed together more. Also, good on her for being willing to call Scrooge out on not only treating her like a secretary, but also on him attempting to basically ignore his great-nephews.”

Impression now: “I’m so happy that she finally was able to tell the truth about her connection to Webby and now it seems like she’s just going to be more comfortable around her friends and everyone else because she doesn’t need to keep telling a lie to protect Webby from FOWL. I also love how she still clearly loves Webby like family and has complete and total faith in her abilities. Her pulling the life-jacket off as soon as Scrooge glanced away was seriously hilarious to me. Also, Beakley looks amazing with her hair down.”

Favorite moment: The whole flashback of her finding and adopting Webby. Just the idea of seeing this person who was so dedicated to her job as a spy giving all that up because she found this innocent child that honestly had nothing to do with her, but she knew she couldn’t let grow up in a place like FOWL, that she gave up her old life in order to focus on, really, being a parent. It doesn’t hurt that Beakley’s line about “finding a new mission” reminded me of the “You are my quest” line from Kubo and the Two Strings, which is one of my favorite love declarations ever. 

Idea for a story: Just Beakley and Launchpad going to a convention together. I mean, you can’t have Beakley become a Darkwing Duck fan because of Launchpad and not have her get into the fandom at all, and I feel like it’d be so amusing to see her interact with other fans. Also, she’d need to properly meet and interact with Drake and Gosalyn. 

Unpopular opinion: Not entirely sure how unpopular this is, but it always kind of bugged me how she came across like she was trying to tell Della how to be a parent in “Timephoon!” Though, that was admittedly more of an issue with the episode itself, since while Della was never shown to be perfect, she hadn’t come across as having quite as much of a “let them have fun at the expense of safety” since her first episode back with the family. But it did still bother me that it really did feel like Beakley was being kind of condescending to Della at times during that episode. 

Favorite relationship: Her and Scrooge’s friendship honestly gives me so much happiness, especially with the reveal that after she found baby Webby and left SHUSH, she apparently trusted him so much that he was the first person she came to for help, and even though it’s implied he was still grieving the loss of Della, Donald, and the triplets, he still welcomed them into his home without any question.

Favorite headcanon: I actually made a post about this a while ago, but I don’t think Beakley was lying about the people in the photo Webby had being her daughter and son in law. In fact, I actually headcanon that, while they never had any children before they died, Beakley named Webby the name that her daughter and son in law had mentioned liking for a girl.

[jinkicake]

Now or Never

Ushijima and his deadpan reactions are going to be the death of you.

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

For @dontfuckwpigeons !!! I hope you like it!!! Omg I accidentally posted this earlier while I was trying to save it,, sorry for anyone who saw the rough draft of this.... this is humiliating. Umm, yeah this is another reader and Oikawa friendship pairing with a sprinkle of Iwaoi because you know...  If I had to choose a best friend from the haikyuu clowns it would be Oikawa. This is kinda like a college au, heheh >:-)

SEMI-SMUTTY // NSFW

WC- 1,476

~~~

“Every fucking time I dress up for him, you know what he says to me?” You snap as you continue to furiously stir your drink. Oikawa simply glances up at you from behind his sunglasses, his hangover still railing him. “Looks good.” You purposely lower your voice to try and match Ushijima’s before puffing your cheeks out in relation.

“Does he still fuck you afterward?” Oikawa asks uninterestedly, drinking from his iced coffee as he palms his temples. Damn you for getting him up so early on a Sunday.

“Yes.” You scoff and Oikawa shrugs in response. “I still want a better response though, I want to know what he likes because I want to see him ‘oh’.”

“See him, ‘oh’?” The brunette tilts his head in confusion and you open your mouth like a gasp.

“Oh,” You explain and point to your face, Oikawa simply blinks.

“Oh? Oh.” He nods in understanding and you down your drink in one go. “Here’s an idea (Y/N), why don’t you just ask him how he feels about your little outfits?” Oikawa’s nose scrunches up in disgust at the thought of Ushijima’s ‘oh’.

“I want to catch him off gaurd Tooru! I want that seductive power!” You slam your fist onto the table and Oikawa lets out a groan, the loud noise catching him by surprise. “I am going to tell you every reaction he had for the last four ‘outfits’ I bought him.” You bend your index and middle finger as you quote the word outfit.

“Where do you have the money for this shit?” Oikawa throws back and you shrug innocently. “I swear if you skip buying meals and shit for this-“

“I would never!” You scoff and Oikawa simply raises a brow at you. “Anyway! There I was in the cutest baby pink bodysuit and I walk into his bedroom and Ushijima glances at me. That’s it, he looks at me and tilts his head like a stupid little puppy and simply blinks. I can’t even be mad at him because he is so cute!”

Throughout your entire rant Oikawa simply stares up at the ceiling, mentally trying to figure out how you got him to leave his beautiful bed to talk about Ushijima. Oikawa has to refrain from making a face. The setter comes to the conclusion that the world hates him, that is why this is happening to him.

“And then I tried a black bustier with lace and thigh highs and he didn’t say anything again! He still had that neutral unbreaking expression on his face, though he did fuck me into next week like he genuinely rearranged my guts-“

Oikawa starts tuning you out again and instead focuses on his drink as he tries to picture the outfits you’re talking about. How is he supposed to know what a bustier is? Would Iwaizumi like it if he wore something like that? Oikawa knows he would very much like it if his boyfriend wore something like that, it would definitely complement his power bottom nights-

“The last outfit I tried was a corset, I mean I also wore a thong one time for him but does that even count? And guess what reaction I got?”

Oikawa gasps in fake interest.

“The same expression he always has on?” He asks and you nod your head.

“Yes! Does he think I’m trying too hard, oh what if Ushijima doesn’t like it and doesn’t have the heart to tell me?” You continue to worry out loud, mostly to yourself, and Oikawa glances out the coffee shop window.

The springtime really is pretty especially with the cherry blossoms. Maybe he should force Matsukawa to go hiking or go explore a waterfall or something. What is Matsukawa even doing this week, studying for his midterms? Lame, Oikawa notes that out of all of his friends, you’re the only one who will go drinking with him on Tuesday until you’re both puking in his bathroom.

A strong, beautiful friendship.

“Is he going to break up with me? What if he-“

“(Y/N).” Oikawa finally has enough, he grabs your hands in his and squeezes them hard. “Ushijima is not going to break up with you. You really shouldn’t be worrying this much and if it really bothers you, you need to tell him!” Oikawa scolds, not before he nearly gags on Ushijima’s name.

“Clearly, he really likes what you are wearing even if he doesn’t say it. Judging by your, you know,” He points at your neck with a grimace on his face, you didn’t even bother to cover anything up. You nervously pick at the collar of the hoodie you have on, bringing it up to your chin. “He probably just has a different love language. You and I need words and our significant others simply don’t have the words. It’s okay!”

“You’re right, Tooru!” You gush and Oikawa flips his hair.

“As I always am,”

“I am going to go buy another outfit! And if he doesn’t say anything then I will force him to!” You stand up from your chair and Oikawa swirls his drink in his hand.

“Not what I really said but the thought is there,” He mutters into his straw and you stare at him like you are waiting for him to follow you.

“Do you want to come with me?” At your question, Oikawa stares at you in confusion. To put it simply, hell no.

No, Oikawa doesn’t want to ruin his Sunday by going shopping for Ushiwaka. He simply refuses, he won’t. However, as he continues to stare at you, he figures he would be able to get dinner out of it.

“Sure, you’re buying me food though.” He subtly drops and stands up from his chair, you grab his wrist and proceed to drag him out of the coffee shop.

“I will gladly feed you, Tooru!”

~

Okay, you can do it, you can do it. You stare at yourself in the mirror hanging in Ushijima’s bathroom, the neutral color of the outfit compliments your skin gorgeously. The sheer material falls gracefully over your shoulders, falling like a robe, and this you know will get him. You glance away from the mirror because you know if you stare for too long you will psych yourself out.

Instead, you swallow all your nerves and roll your shoulders back confidently.

Now or never.

You push open the bathroom door and walk into the living room, already knowing that Ushijima is sitting comfortably on the couch. He doesn’t glance up when you walk in, obviously, your arrival wasn’t loud enough.

“Wakatoshi~” You coo and walk up to him, you stand at the edge of the couch and Ushijima slow looks up at you. His eyes run all over your body before landing on your face, your breath hitches when you notice his lips parted slightly agape. “Do you like it?” You ask, your excitement getting the best of you.

“Yes,” Ushijima tells you and that is all he says. You place your hands on his shoulders and blink at him.

“That’s all you have to say?” You press and narrow your eyes, Ushijima simply nods.

Much to his surprise, you push him back against the couch. You sit down directly onto his lap and keep your palms flat against his chest to hold him against the piece of furniture. Ushijima could easily get up, easily sit up even with you on top of him but he lets you continue instead.

“You don’t like it.” You state sadly and Ushijima shakes his head.

“No, I do like it. I love everything you wear.” He compliments and runs his large hands up and down your sides, his pants growing tight at the feeling of the material under his palms.

“Why don’t you ever say that then?” Your insecurity gets the best of you and you are unable to look at him anymore. Ushijima notices your pout with a heavy heart.

“I do not want you to feel as if you have to dress up for me,” Ushijima confesses and you snap your eyes back to him, he continues to stare at your outfit. “I want you to dress up because you want to, not for me.”

Deep in your mind, you can hear Oikawa screaming at you from across the city. His ‘I told you so’ rings loudly in your ears. You push those thoughts to the back of your head and instead stare down at Ushijima with a soft smile on your face.

“I’m sorry for getting upset,” You apologize and gently cup his jaw, running your thumb along his bottom lip.

“I should have said more, I apologize.” Ushijima sighs deeply with regret and you lean forward to press your chest to his.

“You can make it up to me,” The flirtatious response cheekily leaves your lips and Ushijima can’t take his eyes off of your smirk.

“Yeah?” He breathes and you ghost your lips over his.

“Yeah."

~ Taglist.

@yams046 @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy @xhanjisungiex @xxashshs @chaosamu @angelkogane @augustdearly @kunimwuah  @littleshopoflove @osamuonigiri @pearzuko @darksxder @macaronnv @nerdygremlin @buzzybeebee

[sherl-grey]

WIP Game

hello, thanks for the tags @deardiary17 and @rcse ! from what i understand the concept here is “post a list of your drafts” and this is... uh, a little embarrassing, because my Google Drive is an absolute black hole of unfinished things, but here we go I guess? list below the cut because it’s a little long.

tagging @a-rose-by-any-other-doctor, @scarlet-moon, @ask-the-almighty-google and anyone else who would like to post their WIP list and let me go feral over their half-formed ideas. i will be knocking on your dms to yell if you want me to, haha

Eight, Eleven Chameleon Arch (Rose post-Tentoo meets Eight who’s running from the Time War in rather drastic way, Eleven “Rewrite the Stars” would be the sequel if i ever got there)

Something Wild - starts from the Academy; Theta and Arkytior have a bit of a falling out when Theta decides to go through with his arranged marriage. But why does something keep calling them back to each other over the years? (This is literally haunting me but I don’t have the talent to write it; I’ve started over three times and it’s killing me, help)

a NineRose remix of a fic from another fandom that i probably won’t actually ever write and i’d have to contact the author and all that, but it’s a fantasy kingdom mystery AU with the Seelie and Unseelie Courts as two “sides” of a world (i’ll rec the OG fic to anyone that wants it but don’t shame me for my ships, lol)

check yes, juliet (absolute hellfire to try to read/write, follows three tenrose pairs, canon and 2 AUs, it is GOOD that i gave up on this but i can’t bring myself to discard the draft)

Nine thinks Rose calling him a cheap date means they’ve been dating this whole time so he’s pretty much okay to propose now, right? 

NineRose soulmates fic but it goes through the previous incarnations along the way

EightRose Robot of Sherwood for CupofSonic--this would be secret except she definitely already knows and has read a snippet so it is what it is, haha

secret TenRose gift fic for someone else here, if I ever finish

Rose gets sucked back into Gallifrey instead of the Master in The End of Time. I do not know even close to the level of Gallifrey lore that I would need to to finish this thing

ElevenRose proposal thing

ElevenRose thing that’s either a giftfic for a friend or a self-birthday gift to myself, idk it’s sort of both

i have one where Rory knows Rose and thinks she died at canary wharf and wants to go save her since he doesn’t think death has to be permanent (lol i wonder where he gets this idea) but i don’t know where i was going with that, honestly? to be scrapped

the weight of words - Series 3/4 Rewrite where Ten said the words and is different because of it; Rose’s dimension-hopping takes her to other incarnations of the Doctor who need to help her because she’s changing and doesn’t quite understand why or how

an ElevenRose reunion fic where Rose parented Jenny and Jack tries to call her when Jenny gets arrested, but he accidentally also calls Eleven’s TARDIS when he has all three Ponds on board, and yeah, it’s kind of a mess. I also gave up on this one but can’t bear to delete yet

i have a couple others that are so bad i’d prefer to pretend they don’t exist so we’re gonna end this right here, lol

[op-peccatori]

Hopefully, Yours (part 2) | MLQC Victor

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Victor/Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature 

Word Count: 8326

Summary: It took some cake, a friend, and some impulsive behaviour, but they got there. (part 2 of Hopefully, Yours)

Warnings/Tags: making out, language, my cheeseball antics

a/n: I was afraid of opening this doc at one point because every time I did I added more words to it ;; Also accidentally deleted the first draft, so I hope I didn’t leave anything out for this one. 

[video]

After Hours | Victor and Y/n

200, 280 views • Feb 8th, 2020

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JTV ✓

1.19M subscribers 

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5100 comments

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somsom 5 minutes ago

They’re both so nice. Victor’s always made out to be this heartless CEO, so it’s nice to see this side of him :) 

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tooktiktook  7 minutes ago

hmmmMMM

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cheribb 15 minutes ago

their eyes said more than enough <3 <3

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saltqueen 16 minutes ago

what i wouldn’t give to have someone look that soft over me

                                                    ⌨⌨⌨

Victor eyed the cheerful grin splitting Jason’s face, just a little uneasy in his seat. 

While having eager eyes on him was not an unfamiliar experience, he’d never been in a position where he was expected to talk about his feelings on camera. Not that he was about to confess in front of the entire crew of the show, but when it came to you the lines always got a little too blurry for his comfort. 

He got a little too eager.

“Just be nice,” Jason had instructed gently, and Victor steeled himself. 

They started, quite predictably, by asking him about his ideal type. Resisting the urge to scoff, he tried to stick to the script he’d worked on with Goldman, who had insisted on being present for today’s shoot. Not that Victor was complaining; it wasn’t exactly part of the job description, but Goldman had been enthusiastic, which Victor could appreciate and would certainly reward. 

Goldman had also spent most of yesterday handling the public relations department in his absence, preparing them for his appearance on the show. A tentative plan would be sent to him by tomorrow morning. He had faith in them, believing that they would be able to make this look good for him. 

“Someone who works hard,” he answered, knowing you would laugh at that. “Who can be themselves around me, someone I can be myself around. Someone...kind.”

The times you’ve spent in Souvenir flit through his mind, some quiet and some full of bright-eyed chatter.

“You’ve known Y/n for some time, right?” the interviewer asked. She looked nice, but he’d been on the block long enough to know that even the kindest faces can often hide the sharpest teeth.

“Yes.”

“What do you think of her?”

“She’s a very kind person,” he said easily. “One of the most hard-working and inspiring people I’ve ever met.”

You would surely gape like a fool after  seeing this. It was a little embarrassing, but Victor was determined to leave your image shiny after this. He would not have any words of his twisted to give you a bad name. If it got even a fraction of his feelings across, well, that was a bonus he wouldn’t mind having. The intimate setting of the ferris wheel had seemed to help some, but his admittedly indirect confession didn’t reach you as he had hoped.

God, but his father would love this.

“Did you have fun on your date?”

“It was lovely.” They tacked on another question and he nodded. “I...yes, I’d love to do it again.”

It was a little curt, but he didn’t really get what Goldman had meant by ‘nod tenderly with a far-off look.’

What would you think of that?

The interviewer raised a brow, her smile widening. “Let’s get to it, then. How do you feel about her?”

For some bizarre reason, the first thing that had come to his mind at this question was his inexplicable need to check your social idea every day. And the way his heart beats just a little faster when you’ve posted a new picture. How, in moments of weakness, he’d given in and saved a few to his phone. Even a mental reminder of it made him a little hot under the collar.

There were many things he couldn’t even begin to try and explain when it came to you.

Really, the list is endless.

Victor’s current favourite was the video you’d uploaded of eating the tiramisu he’d cooked. He watches it at the end of a bad day and just like that, he feels a little better.

“I think anyone who ends up with her would be the luckiest person in the world,” he said honestly. “She’s beautiful in every single way.”

The last three words were supposed to have stayed in his head, but saying them felt natural. Goldman seemed to approve, shooting him a discreet thumbs up.

When you walk in, sleep-deprived and grumpy but trying to hide it, thinking he won’t catch on as if he isn’t running sharp eyes over every inch of your face. When the first sip of your coffee is too eager, leaving your tongue burnt and him with a pressing need to soothe it with his own. When you eat too much sugar and complain about a stomach-ache; he scolds you for it, but his arms are left straining with the need to wrap themselves around you.

He cherished these moments and wanted every single one all to himself. 

She makes me greedy.

“Would you want to be that person?”

Victor laughed, light and incredulous. 

Yes. Yes. Yes. 

“I guess time will have to answer that question for us,” he said, the ghost of a smile on his lips, leaving it at just the right note to keep viewers hanging—right along with him.

lightscameranaps ✓ @jasonp

Hope y’all enjoyed the episode! #HopefullyYours

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bandanaman @headaccs

@jasonp sooo really sorry about this but we’re kinda dying over here

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raspberrydream @berryberry

@headaccs Victor’s acc is still private. Maybe there’s something there? 

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@berryberry But Y/n’s isn’t private, and there’s nothing there. Give it up guys, they’re just friends. 

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bandanaman @headaccs

@hotsauce bruh that look?? was not friendship 

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raspberrydream @berryberry

@hotsauce those words?? were not friendship

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srirachafire @hotsauce 

@headaccs @berryberry you two?? are hopeless romantics

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lightscameranaps ✓ @jasonp

@headaccs honestly? me too D: 

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bandanaman @headaccs

@jasonp !!!!!! asdfgdvsd

Closing your Moments and the entire thread discussing the episode, you flop back down onto your mattress. Reaching for your newest plushy, you hug it tight, perhaps a tad too aggressively. 

It’s odd. You struggle between the visceral sort of pleasure that comes from a job well done—because the response is terrific—and the trembling nerves that come from watching yourself on a date with Victor.

Watching the episode had been harder than you had expected; you hadn’t quite been expecting the way Victor was looking at you—the intense gaze was a little too convincing, and watching it from the audience’s perspective was flustering. 

You spent most of it trying to suppress the inconvenient surges of hope, telling yourself it wasn’t real.

There really was nothing to know. The ferris wheel shot had ended there because you had nothing to say to Victor’s answer. You don’t know if he was referring to his past or his present, but the look in his eyes made it clear: his feelings were still there. Instead of pressing him, you chose to stay quiet, exhaustion clear in your face and sinking deep into your bones.

Victor had seemed to understand and maybe even appreciate it, probably not wanting to discuss it either, and only insisted on dropping you home. The ride to your place had been mostly silent, but you had tried to ask him his thoughts on the day and the shoot. He kept his answers concise, appearing a little distracted, which was so unlike him it made you wonder if he regretted opening up.

You’d spent the entire ride trying to quell the delicate little thing trembling in your chest.

The next video started while you were lost in your thoughts, and it happens to be your individual parts. Curious, you lean in, wincing slightly at the way you were fidgeting. 

And then they switch to Victor. You both had to wear the outfits from the date for these, but you still weren't quite expecting the impact his voice alone would have on you. 

And as always, those fierce eyes have you freezing in place.

“Let’s get to it, then. How do you feel about her?”

He looks unfazed by the question. Of course, they go over the questions with you beforehand, but you still remember how nervous you’d felt when asked how you felt about him; Victor’s eyes flick towards the camera, filled with intent, as if addressing you—and you close the laptop with a snap, your throat tight.

You don’t have to watch that right away.

You had been very careful about what to say, how to act, channeling your inner-Victor to adopt a marble-smooth expression. Say nice things about him? Easy, you didn’t even have to make anything up. Imply just enough to keep people guessing. 

Keep your unwanted feelings to yourself. 

Palm coming to rest over your heart, pressing down as if it would alleviate the ache there, you try to sort through your thoughts. You never really thought there was a chance, but to hear it confirmed was a blow you weren’t prepared for. 

It’s ridiculous to feel so insecure, you think. You feel like you lost a competition you had never even had the chance to compete in. And over an unnamed, mysterious figure? So silly! 

But another part of your mind says it’s okay to feel this way, that it’s only natural. You’ve had such strong feelings for Victor for so long. And all of these feelings, the good and the bad, are yours; the wounds of your heart, the light in your laughter. Fighting them would only make you suffer. The love and the hurt are part of you, both important in their own right.

Knowing all of that doesn’t make it easier, though. 

After all, Victor had alluded to his feelings on camera, to your face. Knowing him, he would never do that unless he was sure about the person. 

“This fucking sucks,” you admit out loud, and at the heels of your words come the tears. Because, to make it even worse, people really seem to think it’s you. 

You can’t blame them, because even you had been taken in by his soft looks. Anyone watching would believe he’s smitten with you. Good for the show, terrible for you. 

You’re not strong enough to reply to them, to tell them you aren’t that fortunate, and have been hoping Victor, or someone from his team, would put a stop to it. 

But there hasn’t been any word from them and you curse out loud at the fact that he expects you to do something about it. As if there’s any more emphasis needed, your phone vibrates. Unlocking it with a miserable sigh, you scroll down quickly.

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Minor [19:40]: am I watching this right? Boss, are you dating the CEO? PLS SAY NO

Chik [20:21]: You bitch. When were you going to tell me you snagged THAT? So I was right back then, ha! Anyway, you two are adorbs. The puppy eyes are disgusting. I’m proud of you.

Chik [20:22]: also...deets. Now. I’ll even throw in a please!!! 

Lucien [20:40]: Well, now. I seem to have missed out on quite the opportunity.

Kiro [20:45]: I wish you’d invited me. But I guess it wouldn’t have mattered. I hope he makes you happy, Miss Chips! He better, or else ;P

‎‎

Frowning at the texts you scroll back up, hoping, hoping, hoping, and at the sight of the name that always sits at the tip of your tongue, you curl up tighter.

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Victor [21: 05]: Are you okay?

Y/N [21:20]: I’m fine. Moments seems to be blowing up, haha. Did you watch the episode?

Victor [21: 20]: Yes.

Victor [21: 21]: Did you?

‎

You pause at that, looking guiltily at your laptop. You had, sort of. Fighting off your own thoughts had taken up most of your attention. Resolving to watch it again—a clear display of previously dormant masochistic tendencies, roused by Victor— and actually pay attention this time, you turn back to the screen.

‎

Y/N [21:22]: Yeah, but not the individual parts. It was nice, they made it seem so real! But we’re going to have to say something to let them know there’s nothing like that.  

‎

You wait anxiously for a reply, a part of you clearly suffering from delusion hoping he’d oppose that. When there’s no text from him for a few minutes, you plug your phone in to charge and get out of bed, heading for a quick shower before you get something to eat.

Heartbreak hasn't been enough to curb your appetite, and you feel more than ready to let dessert have the chance to make you feel better.

Who needs Victor when you have cake, right?

Just as you’re halfway through cutting a slice of the cake Jason—well, his team—had sent as thanks, trying to keep your thoughts away from the bottle of wine you‘ve got tucked away, your doorbell rings, breaking the melancholic silence of your apartment. A part of you wants to roll your eyes at your dramatics, while the other feels you have the right to wallow for as long as you need to.

The irrational side of you stirs once more, conjuring thoughts of Victor rushing over, and you peep through the hole with a wildly thumping heart. 

Lucien’s serene smile chases those thoughts away, and you open the door with a sheepish grin. 

He looks a little tired, his dark bangs ruffled; unlike his usual sharp appearance, he looks impossibly soft in his barn red sweater and comfortable looking track pants. He’s also got a folder tucked under one arm.

“Hi!” 

“Sorry to drop by so late,” he greets you, his warm eyes bringing you a little comfort instantly. “But you mentioned you’d be working on Miracle Finder tomorrow and I wanted you to have the chance to go over my remarks before that.”

“Lucien! Thank you,” you insist, waving away his apology. “Would you like to come in? I’ve got cake.” 

He searches your face for a moment, and his eyes narrow the slightest bit. You feel a little self-conscious in your over-sized sweatshirt and shorts, but it’s not like he hasn’t seen you in various states of disarray before. 

“Can’t really say no to that. Let me get my laptop,” he finally agrees. You wait at the door as he gets it, before leading him in. But you notice his curious, inquisitive looks, so subtle and so Lucien, as he toes off his shoes.

“Everything okay?” You reach for another plate, cutting a second slice as Lucien takes a seat at the table. 

“Yes, of course. It’s just,” he hesitates, and there’s that odd scrutiny again. “I wasn’t expecting you to be alone.” 

“On a Sunday evening?” The first bite of the cake tastes like sweet comfort over the taste of despondency, and you send a silent thanks to Jason. “I spent the day napping.”

“Well, after the show I just watched,” he says, quite slyly in your opinion. “I wasn’t even sure if you’d be home.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in dating shows.” You’re aware your tone is more than a little petulant, but Lucien only laughs around a mouthful of the cake. 

“I am if you’re in one,” he retorts. “This is quite nice, by the way.” 

“The director, Jason sent it. And, honestly, it wasn’t planned. We were supposed to have Kai and Hollow on, but they ended up clashing horribly. Jason asked me and Victor was around, so…” you trail off, uncomfortable. 

“Is that why you texted me that day?” He seems to have remembered your message, and you wince slightly. You had texted him later with an apology, but hadn’t really expected him to cotton on. He doesn't look mad, just expectant.

“Well, yes, but Jason wanted, he wanted Victor.” Stumbling over your words, heat suffuses your skin as you flounder for a moment.

Lucien watches you with the eyes of a fox and the understanding of a good friend. “Just Jason?”

“Huh?”

“Was it just Jason who wanted Victor?” he asks, tilting his head as your mouth purses. 

No, no, of course it wasn’t. You stare down at your half-eaten cake, the other half of it beginning to churn in your stomach. His small, soft smiles. His scent. His rants on street food and the way he dragged you away from food that would ‘absolutely make you ill, you absolute dummy’ as Jason resigned himself to having to cut all of that out. It all comes back in a rush, your head left feeling heavy.

And then it feels the weight of a hand, as Lucien reaches over to pat it gently. “Never mind. Why don’t you get your organizer and we can go over tomorrow’s episode?” 

Relieved, grateful and slightly emotional over his silent acceptance, you rush to your bedroom to find your notebook and laptop, barely catching the light of your phone screen before it went black. Unplugging and checking it as you exited the room with your materials in hand, your train of thought comes to a screeching halt.

‎‎

Victor [21:59]: Do you really believe that?

Victor (2 missed calls)

Victor [22:15]: Y/n.

Victor [22:16]: ...Did you fall asleep?

Victor [22:18]: Dummy. Goodnight. 

‎‎

Unwilling to delve into what his first text means, you shift your thick planner in your arms and type a quick reply. 

‎‎

Y/N [22:19]: Hi! Sorry. I went to get something to eat and then Lucien dropped by. We’re going to get to work haha ^^

Victor [22:19]: …

‎‎

You wait for a whole minute before Lucien calls for you, and let your hand fall, phone locked, with a sigh. 

Well, at least he’ll be happy to hear you’re working hard.

Sinking into familiar, engaging discussions with Lucien is easy. Even with the thoughts of Victor looming at the back of your mind, you straighten out a plan for the shoot. Lucien listens to your input carefully, adding his own notes as you squint at yours. His voice, familiar and soothing, lulls you, distracting you from yourself for a short while.

Before you know it, it’s eleven and you’ve got a fantastic plan in hand. 

“I’m sorry I kept you so late,” you say for the second time in a minute, and he gives you an exasperated look. “And thank you.” 

“I’ve told you, there’s no need for all that between us,” Lucien repeats, crossing one long leg over the other as he adopts a thoughtful look. “However, perhaps you could satisfy my curiosity regarding one thing.”

“What is it?” 

You were prepared for a philosophical question. What he comes up with is, in your opinion, way more difficult to answer. 

“Why aren’t you with Victor?” he asks seriously. You blink, uncomprehending.

“Like, right now?” 

“Right now, or in general. I didn’t think he would just...let you be,” Lucien mutters the last part under his breath, but you still catch it. He continues to say something about possessive bastards, but you’re not touching that.

“I think you’ve misunderstood,” you say, slowly, with a nervous laugh, shoulders hunching a little. “All of that was just for the camera. Victor and I aren’t like that.” 

“But you have feelings for him,” Lucien points out, cutting straight to the heart of the matter and yours. Really, this is almost cruel. Lucien turns to face you fully as you sigh and sink back into the couch. 

“I do.” It’s the first time you’ve admitted it out loud. Sure, some of the people in your life have had an idea, but you’ve never said it. Lucien seems like a good person to start with. “But he doesn’t feel the same way, so.” 

And you’ve never said that out loud either. It hurts, as you put it out into the universe. As if shying away from it before would have increased your chances. 

Lucien looks at you oddly. “Did he say that? Because the way he looks at you says otherwise. It’s quite embarrassing.”

You feel heat creeping up the back of your neck.

“I’ve never told him how I feel,” you mumble, pressing the side of your cheek into the soft fabric, hoping it would swallow you up. 

“Then how do you know how he feels?” Lucien continues to probe, and you exhale forcefully because it’s so clear to you; why isn’t it ever as clear to everyone else? 

And Lucien is supposed to be your smart friend!

‘Well, there’s also someone else in his life but I can’t exactly say that.’

“Because it’s Victor,” you declare with an emphatic sweep of your hands, hoping it would somehow get your point across, that it would explain how unattainable he is. Just as you do, two things happen successively. 

One: Lucien looks at you as if he wants to boink you on the head or laugh really loudly. He does neither, but his mouth twitches violently.

And two: there’s a series of loud, heavy knocks on your door, before the culprit seems to remember you have a doorbell and rings that instead. It only rings once, but you can sense that the person is still there.

Exchanging alarmed looks with Lucien, you rise to your feet and shuffle towards the door.

“Let me,” Lucien murmurs, stopping you before you can reach the entrance, and steps forward to look through the peephole. His only reaction is a quick, sharp exhale before he steps back to unlock the door. 

Without telling you who was just knocking at your door like a maniac. 

“Wait, who i-” the words fall away with your panicked thoughts, as Lucien opens the door to reveal your uninvited visitor.

It really is Victor this time, with his chest heaving as if he’d run up the stairs. Victor, with his inky hair pushed back carelessly, in dark grey sweats and a light grey t-shirt and indoor slippers. 

Victor, with a furious look in his eyes as he pushes past Lucien, who looks a little too entertained in the face of such ire. 

“Sorry to intrude on your cosy evening,” he says, after a short pause, through clenched teeth. You stare at him in disbelief, unable to form actual words at the moment. It feels as if a concentrated storm itself has swept into your living room, ready to swallow you up. 

Of course, a part of you would be more than okay with that. Even with that knife-sharp glint in his eyes, you can’t help but want to throw yourself at it, let it graze the softest parts of you, in an emotional variation of bloodletting. 

Sometimes you surprise yourself with the things you think.

Maybe you should’ve changed into nicer pyjamas after all, damn it.

“Victor? What-is everything okay?” You look him over carefully, seeing no visible signs of injury. The stony look on his face, however, keeps you from coming too close. What could you possibly have done now?

Swiftly, you run through a list of work-related tasks. Nope. Nothing. You’ve been sure to give it your all this week just so Victor wouldn’t feel the need to call you.

Even now, though, something under your skin starts buzzing, as it always does when his entire attention is on you.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t everything be okay?” he says mutinously, crossing his arms over his chest. Okay, you’re sensing more than a little hostility here. 

And, because life is unfair, bitchy is also a good look on Victor.

“Well,” you draw out, looking past him at Lucien, who shrugs lightly. Victor frowns at the exchange. He levels a downright lethal glare at Lucien, who tilts his head in clear interest. Kinda hot, but you should probably keep that to yourself lest you push Victor to the point of spitting fire. “It’s...late...and you’re here…?”

That has his mouth doing that little spasm it does when he’s pissed. “And I notice I’m not the only one. What, is it just me who’s barred from coming to your place this late?” 

“Well, n-no,” you stammer, looking once more at Lucien who seems content to watch and be unhelpful. “But Lucien was just here to talk about tomorrow’s episode.” 

Why are you here? 

The question seems to hang in the air, unsaid yet clear. 

Victor says nothing, standing tall in your living room like an indignant matron. You feel helpless, confused, elated and increasingly offended because of the implication in his words that only catches up to you now.

You pick the path of offense.

“But what, exactly, did you think Lucien was doing here?” you ask, your tone turning decidedly cooler. He returns your glare. Behind him, you see Lucien trying to hide a smile. “You seem to be under the impression that I make it a habit of entertaining people in my evenings?” 

Victor blinks at that, arms coming loose, and you hold up a hand.

“And even if I did want to have friends over at night,” you say loudly, through gritted teeth. “What business is it of yours?” 

“It’s inappropriate,” he insists. 

“No, what’s inappropriate is you coming into my house and telling me who I should, or should not, be spending time with, regardless of the time.” Much to your frustration, you find yourself blinking back tears as your voice cracks towards the end. 

Victor deflates at that, the ice in his expression melting in the face of your furious tears; Lucien, concern clear on his face, takes a step towards you. Your eyes squeeze shut, as if that would hide you from them; anger and embarrassment war within you at not only crying in front of Victor, but to have a quiet Lucien witnessing this ridiculous drama. 

Where did your peaceful day go?

You hear footsteps, hesitant and barely audible, come closer, feel the heat from a body as it nears yours. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll leave.” It’s Victor.

Your eyes snap open to the sight of his back, your feet carrying you forward without the aid of your thoughts, a hand curling loosely into his t-shirt. 

Leave? Just like that? 

He stops in his tracks, looking back down at you in surprise. You’re not sure what he sees as you keep your eyes fixed on his shoulder, but it makes him sigh softly.

A thumb wipes under your eyes, gentle, and strong arms wrap around you carefully, pulling you into an—unreasonably broad, you think—chest; his comforting scent envelopes you, pulling you back from the edge. 

It’s frustrating. You want to yell at him for barging in like a lunatic. But you don’t want him to leave. You want to sink into his steady embrace and allow the solace it brings.

With your face pressed to his t-shirt, you miss the way he looks back at Lucien, who nods and turns to leave, but not before holding Victor’s gaze for a moment longer—you don’t see the warmth drain from his face, the vicious warning warning clear in his eyes. 

Victor pulls you closer, nodding once. 

If Lucien’s answering smile is a touch more resigned than amused, neither of them can really acknowledge it. 

You try to pull back when you hear the door close gently, but Victor cards a hand through your hair and you slump back into his embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, stroking your hair, with a gentle hesitance uncharacteristic for the decisive man. “That was...extremely inappropriate of me. I should not have done that. I can leave. I should.”

He should. But neither of you move. His heart beats a little faster, the sound clearer the longer your ear remains pressed into his chest. 

With cotton in your mouth, your mind totally mush with the knowledge that Victor’s hugging you, and with the little voice yelling that he does not get to hold you after driving you to tears—it takes you a moment to form a response. 

But you can’t resist. “So what you’re saying is you made an impulsive decision.” 

The soft motions of his hand pause before he huffs into your hair. There’s no other response, and it makes you smile a little.

“Why did you?” you finally ask. Victor quite visibly lost his cool. While he did seem to have something against Lucien, this was a bit much. You hadn’t been aware that the hostility ran this deep.

He tucks your head under his chin, the arm around your waist tightening, and as the anger subsides, your face begins to heat up as you realize how intimate this is. But Victor seems content to stay like this, and your heart hammers when you feel something brush the crown of your head. 

“Dummy,” he mutters, and yes, his words are slightly muffled by your hair, and you feel the urge to stick your head in the refrigerator. “You had that guy over this late at night. Do you really need to ask?” 

“It’s just Lucien,” you respond, and this time he lets you pull your head away to look at you with abject disbelief. 

“Just? There’s no just with that guy.” He seems serious, so you swallow the laughter bubbling up.

“Lucien is a dear friend,” you assure him. “You were really that worried about it?”

“Worried,” Victor repeats, staring at you. Your confusion is clear in your face, as the feeling that you’re missing something creeps in. “Worried. Yes. I was worried.” 

You nod encouragingly, and take a quick step back when he laughs. It isn’t one of his airy laughs, that escapes him when he finds something funny. It’s low, almost strangled—and then he steps forward, expression melting into sheer intent. 

When he speaks, his voice is a full octave lower and it scrambles your brains with shameful ease.

“Since he was the one you considered over me for our date that day. Yes, I suppose I was worried,” he muses, matching every unsteady step you take backwards with one towards you. You refrain from pointing out that it was for a show, and all too soon, the back of the sofa hits your hips and Victor looms over you. 

You tuck the part about him knowing you wanted to ask Lucien first away for later. Victor, his soothing scent, the heat from his breath, his tempestuous gaze—your senses flood with him.

“Y-yeah. But you didn’t need to be, he always helps us out,” you point out confusedly, and he gives you a familiar, unimpressed look that brings a small, and odd, measure of relief. 

“What kind of a person would I be,” he says, and your stomach swoops as he leans over you, hands resting on the top of the sofa as you lean back. “If I let dangerous men like him think they have a chance with you?” 

“Dangerous? He’s…” The rest of his words catch up and you can’t think, tongue struggling to form coherent speech. “Not...dangerous?” 

“Too dangerous,” he murmurs, lips brushing over your temple. Something in the back of your throat trembles. “Even if I don’t have the right, I…”

He doesn’t continue.

Holding your breath, you count to five before releasing it, pulse beating an anticipatory beat in your veins. “Why should anyone think they don’t have a chance with me?” 

You know he hasn’t, but with how everything in you stills after asking that question, you wonder if he stopped time.

You’re not sure if it’s the right question to have asked, or the worst.

But it gives him pause, and when the tip of your tongue slips out to wet your lips, his eyes slide down to your mouth. A large hand slides up your spine to rest at the back of your head, your skin erupting with goosebumps at the touch. 

Your lips part on the softest sound and it makes something rumble in his chest, quiet but clear with how close he is. 

It gives you what you’ve been dreaming of—Victor’s lips falling over yours, soft, with a rushed breath and fervent eyes, something desperate at the edge of it. Everything goes quiet, with only your blood pounding in your ears. It feels as if every inch of you is awake in a tingly sort of way, your thoughts deserting you at the way he looks at you, ready to devour. 

There’s hunger in his eyes, and you feel faint when it hits you.

It’s also his answer, you realize, mouth opening to say something, anything, and he pulls you back, kissing you fiercely. Something in you caves, spilling into your blood, setting it alight with a burst of sparking desire.

Victor kisses with his entire body, like he does everything else: controlling every inch of it, sweeping your mind clean, licking into your mouth with the determination that drives his every action, to conquer.

But you’ve been determined to match him since the day you first met him, all too eager to push back and clash. You don’t mind the clack of teeth, the lack of rhythm, and Victor only presses in harder as your arms slide over his shoulders, fingers weaving into his hair. Your tongue is a sly thing that licks along his, your mouth a clever warm weapon that sucks at it, and he unravels. 

Hands that were so careful lose their caution as they dig into the sides of your hips, slinking down and hooking around your thighs as he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“You’re not stopping me,” he rasps against your lips, almost questioning, pupils blown wide. He looks so good you might just lose your mind, and this is after a kiss.

Taking a page out of his book, you kiss him again. 

He carries you around the sofa—with a strength you’ll be sure to admire deeply once you’ve regained the ability to form thoughts—even as he sucks bruises into the delicate skin of your neck, sitting down with you sinking into his lap. 

You’re shivering, you realize, at this sudden fulfilment of a desperate, impossible wish. Your knees press into the sides of his thighs as Victor kisses the corners of your mouth, the curve of your upper lip, the plush, swollen jut of your lower lip—and you feel deliriously drunk. 

He watches you carefully.

“Oh,” you say, half-slurring, kissed stupid. “That’s why.”

“Hm,” he agrees, nuzzling the side of your face. His eyes are bright, his arms a grounding touch around your back. “No one should think they get to have this.” 

“No one but you?” It’s meant to be clever, sharper, but it comes out shy instead. He nips at the shell of your ear, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad about it. 

“If you allow it,” he confirms. He presses his lips to the soft skin behind your ear.

Something swells within you, sweet, sudden and threatening to dissolve you into tears. It breaks open, everything you’ve worked so hard to suppress spilling out like hoarded treasure out of a box now too small to hold it.

“I like you.” It comes out in a rush, and you slap your hands over your face. This time, his low chuckle rings clear in your ears. But when your breath hitches on a sob, his grip on you tightens, lips finding your forehead. “I really like you. So much. I have for a while. At the fair, all of it, I wasn’t...wasn’t acting.” 

“What, and you thought I was?” He looks a little offended when you take a peek at his face. But the sight of his ruffled hair and kissed-puffy lips sends a hot, thrilled jolt through you, and you have to restrain yourself from pouncing. “I have many skills. Acting, admittedly, is not one of them.”

“I thought maybe it was a hidden passion or something,” you mutter, trying to repress a wet laugh at the withering look he gives you, gentle hands wiping at your eyes. “What, you were great!”

“Nope. That was all real,” he declares, pulling you in to rest against him, your head on his shoulder. You feel a little awkward, but that’s mostly outweighed by how much you want to stay here. “...well, maybe I was a little…”

“Nicer than usual?” you offer, and he huffs into your hair. “Cheesy, like you binge-read several romance novels the night before?”

“Cheesy?” He protests, and you laugh with warmth building and rushing through you. “I thought you liked all that.” 

“I do.” This time, the kiss he presses into the crown of your head is firmer. 

“Then I’ll do it.” You look up at him, a little enchanted, a little bewildered, but the former wins out as the corners of his mouth curl up. “Every silly thing you want to do. Oh, and I really like you too.” It’s almost a scoff, but the tremor in his voice and the flush that spreads across his skin speaks his truth.

“Really?” you ask, your grin a little mad and ridiculously beatific. It feels unreal, the joy and relief spreading through you; he pecks the tip of your nose.

“Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?” Victor asks, and the solemn sincerity in his voice prompts you to deliver a loud, smacking kiss to his cheek, just because you can. To your unending joy, the lobes of his ears are almost impossibly red. 

“Never,” you assure him, peppering more kisses over his skin, fascinating by the sight of him pinkening. A thought strikes you, dampening your rising spirits. “I thought...thought there was someone else.” 

He makes a soft, surprised noise in his throat, disbelief winning out over the tenderness for a moment. “Who?”

“I don’t know!” You press your face into the side of his neck, inhaling his comforting scent, hoping it would help with the remnants of hurt. “Some mystery goddess.” 

He’s quiet as you nuzzle his rapidly warming skin, feeling the first hints of sheer mortification settle in at the way your voice just cracked. He whispers something. 

“Sorry?” 

Victor clears his throat. “Just you.” He buries his nose in your hair before you have the chance to lean back like you want to. “It’s only ever been you.” 

Not expecting the sincere confession, it feels as if the breath was punched out of you.  “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” 

He toys with a strand of your hair, curling it absently around a finger. “I didn’t want to overstep. And to make you feel like you had to reciprocate.” 

You stay silent, sensing that he has more to say, even though you want nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and never let go.

“I’ll admit that I feared you would feel pressured to be with me. And that would...I would rather see you happy with someone else, than see you miserable with me.”

“I could never be miserable with you,” you protest at once, feeling almost offended by the mere suggestion. 

“I’m not...I know I can be difficult.” The words fall out in a rushed exhale, as if he wants to get them out before they can be swallowed; you feel weak with the force of your emotions. “But I can try for you. I did that day. I wanted you to relax, to have fun, like you do with your friends. I didn’t want you to be so...cautious.” 

It’s true, you realize guiltily, that there are times where you can’t completely relax in Victor’s company. Those are the days where your feelings sit a little heavier in your stomach, when his words strike a little sharper. The thought of disappointing him, of doing something not to his taste, of judgment, held you back. 

But the day of the fair had been different. He met you halfway, maybe even more than that, and never said a word of complaint. You’d assumed that had been for the camera, though.

“Please,” he says with a roll of his eyes, and you realize you’d said that out loud. “No, that was…” He lowers his gaze, long lashes fanning over the tops of his cheekbones. “That was to show you that you can have fun with me too. I...like you. The way you are. Every bit. The determined, unyielding parts.”

You stare at him.

“The hurting, unsure parts,” he says, a little quieter. “The silly, ridiculously cute parts—don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what,” you ask, your overworked mind trying to process his words, knowing your smile is probably embarrassingly dopey. 

He scowls at you. “Just be yourself with me. Dummy is fine.” 

“Victor,” you exclaim all of a sudden, startling him. “How am I supposed to stay standing in the face of you saying things like that?” 

He rolls his eyes again. “First of all, you’re sitting right now, and I don’t plan to let you move for a while.” Predictably, you feel a little lightheaded at that. “And as for the future...then don’t try to stand, dummy. You can just rest here.” He pulls your head to rest on his shoulder, patting it firmly.

“I’m going to die,” you say with absolute certainty into his shoulder. “I can’t survive this.” 

“You have to,” he mutters dryly, tucking you more firmly against him. “Haven’t you seen the discussions? Our ‘love story’ can’t end in your death, too many would be left devastated.” 

“Including you?” The look you direct at him is positively vulpine, and he snorts, pushing your head back down. Bully. 

The titillated fluttering in your stomach makes you smile.

“...I can’t become a widower before we even get married,” he says solemnly, and you can nearly feel the blood drain from your face as you rear back. 

The corners of his mouth twitch with something like mischief, and the smack you deliver to his bicep is perfectly justified. 

The undoubtedly chiselled muscle you feel very briefly will also require further rumination once you’re alone.

He’s cracking marriage jokes, no doubt referring to the few comments gushing about a secret wedding. An hour ago, you had been under the impression that he was madly in love with some mystery figure. 

Like a bird just freed, your heart flutters at the thought of him having feelings for you.

“Say it again.” 

To his credit, he doesn’t do you the disservice of pretending he doesn’t know what you’re asking for. He clears his throat, eyes flicking to the side before finding their way back to yours. 

“I like you,” he says, a little lower, a lot deeper. “Dummy.” 

You wish you could see what your face was doing, because it makes his eyes go really, really soft. Now that you aren’t weighed down by the frantic need to hide your feelings from one of the most astute people you’ve ever met, you feel like you could float away the way you’ve seen Gavin do, just from how free and happy you feel.

“Just for the record,” you say quietly. “I like you the way you are too.”

“Hm?”

“Even when you’re being a jerk.” He tweaks your ear lightly, rolling his eyes when you giggle. Your heart beats a harsh beat as you try to come up with the right words. “But you’re also the best man I know. When you have it together, and when you don’t—I’ll be there for you. Always.” The way he’s always been there for you.

He kisses the tip of your nose, his pretty eyes a little shinier than before.

“We should aim for a real date first.” He sounds decisive, and a little hoarse.

“...I have a list of places I thought would be good for our first date,” you admit, eyes still locked with his despite your shy admission. He looks pleased, always happy when you take the initiative, and you watch his mouth do that tender thing for a second before leaning in for a swift kiss, catching his lower lip between your teeth as you pull away.

“Good.” His head falls back onto the sofa as your lips trail down his neck curiously, mouthing at the slope of his adam’s apple. Just because you can. “Send it to me.”

“Good,” you murmur, breath hitching in your throat as his hands curl over your waist, skimming the hem of your sweatshirt. “We’re doing this, then.” 

“Most definitely.” With how throaty his voice has gotten as you reach his clavicle, a gentle explorer, you’re not sure words will be your allies for much longer.

“Will you be my boyfriend then, Mr. CEO?” you ask playfully, tasting the words in your mouth. Victor makes a soft, content sound in his throat. 

“I’m all yours,” he affirms, relishing the words in his mouth, raising his head to look at you through hooded eyes. You both know it, just a little, but saying the words brings a giddy, vulnerable sort of feeling with them. “And you…”

With no need for hope, just certainty, you rise up to kiss him softly. 

“I’m yours.” 

BTS:

Goldman stares at Jason in horrified disbelief, shocked by the words that had just left the director’s mouth. He glances at his boss, whose only reaction had been to cock a brow. 

“Would you be open to replacing Kai?”

“I’m...not really one for such shows,” Victor says, quite delicately in Goldman’s opinion, knowing the man usually has no qualms about being savagely blunt.

“I’m aware. I just thought it would be something different, something that would let people see a different side of you,” Jason explains, still completely at ease. 

Victor’s expression makes it quite clear he doesn’t care about people seeing other sides of him.

“Who’s the other participant? Did Hollow come back?” Goldman asks, curious despite himself.  In his very personal opinion, which he will definitely be keeping to himself, it might be nice for Victor’s image if people saw he isn’t always heartless. 

“Oh, no. She didn’t,” Jason says pleasantly. But the look in his eyes is almost hawklike as he keeps them locked on Victor. “I asked Y/n to do it instead. She agreed.” 

Now, to the untrained eye, Victor gives no outward reaction to that statement. 

But Goldman sees the way his brow twitches, the way his lips purse the slightest bit. He wonders if Jason, as a director with many years of experience under his belt, caught it too. 

“She agreed?” Victor asks, sounding as if he doesn’t quite believe it. 

“Yes,” Jason answers, suddenly distracted as he glances at his wristwatch. He sighs, a touch too dramatic to be convincing, but Goldman doesn’t think Victor cares about that. “But I understand. We wouldn’t want you to do something you’re not interested in. I have to go check on her, we’ll keep you updated.”

Something is happening here, Goldman realizes. Jason isn’t rushing out, but seems to be waiting for something. 

Victor, staring at the surface of the coffee table, is struggling. 

Goldman struggles too. He struggles not to roll his eyes in abject exasperation, to pray for divine patience. Why is he like this? Of course, to step into such an obvious trap surely goes against all the instincts he’s honed over the years, but none of that matters when it comes to the delicate matters of the heart! 

Instead, he catches Jason’s eyes, pushing his glasses up his nose, eyes glinting. 

“But who else would you ask to step in on such short notice?” Goldman asks, pointedly. 

And finally, Goldman holds his breath as the ghost of a smirk passes over Jason’s mouth.

This is it.

“Oh, it shouldn’t be a problem. Y/n said she could call Professor Lucien, having already guessed Victor wouldn’t be, um, up for it. She really knows you well, huh?” Jason informs them cheerfully, and even Goldman isn’t expecting that. He thought Jason would go for the ‘who will help poor y/n’ route.

It’s obvious manipulation, and they all know it. Knowing Victor, he will stubbornly refuse to give in and suffer for it. At least, the way he’s glaring at Jason seems to indicate that.

Goldman rushes through several justifications in his head, forming a rapidly coherent argument as to why he should do it, carefully keeping ‘if you don’t want to see her with someone else, suck it up’ and ‘please, please, watching you sulk is really sad I can’t do it’ off the list. 

Surely, Victor wouldn’t let the sexy professor sweep you off your feet? He’s heard the man talk, that kind of smooth talk should not be allowed and holy hell, Jason has played this really well. 

“They do get along well, so it should work,” Jason muses, slathering a little more icing on his three-tier cake of clear-cut manipulation, drama, and subterfuge.

“I’ll do it.” It’s said through a tightened jaw, but it rings clear in the silence of the room. Goldman abandons his mental speech, head whipping around to stare at Victor.

“Oh?” Jason sounds genuinely surprised, as if he hadn’t been aiming for this from the start. 

“Yes,” comes the answer, leaving no room for argument. 

“Are you sure?” Jason asks, oddly somber, finally abandoning the pretense. So he is in possession of some morals, who would have thought?

“Give me the briefing,” Victor says, shoulders set in a firm, determined line Goldman is all too familiar with. 

Jason relaxes into his seat, relief clear in his face. 

And as Victor turns to him, giving him specific instructions about his outfit, cologne and flowers, determined to do this right with that familiar, besotted spark in his eye, Goldman feels warm pride trickle in. 

‘We’re gonna get you the girl, boss.’

Aaaaaaand...CUT. 

I know the last behind the scenes thing wasn’t really needed but I had to 

Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it!

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 15

new year, new chapter c: it's been a while since i've worked on Chronicles—December Mood dips are Not Delicious, plus i started streaming regularly, which has been fun! ((i’m omnistruck on Twitch if you want to check it out 🥰) but rest assured i intend to see it through to the end. i hope you've been well <3 take care, and enjoy!

From: itsdjbubbles

My dude, if your stage presence is anything like this flyer, y’all are absolutely gonna kill it at La Tortue.

Well. Luka doesn’t know about that.

It’s not like Kitty Section is totally obscure. They’ve had a stage in Paris’s annual pop-up music festival or more than one occasion. And sometimes Juleka’s tagged along to street corners with him so they could duet in hopes of more than just pocket change. And, of course, there was that whole music contest with Bob Ross and XY, but that had only ended in fiasco: their music was stolen, Rose’s vocals ripped right off the track. Luka argued up and down over the phone until he was red in the face, nearly biked down to the studio and let them have it, but he could hardly prove it. And he cared too much about it jeopardizing Juleka’s happiness to follow through.

Total corporate bullshit. He didn’t know how Jagged Stone did it. When he said so at dinner the night he gave up, his Ma only tousled his hair and said, “You’re my boy, aren’t you?”

Sometimes he thinks that’s the strongest, bravest, he’s ever been. That all his audacity peaked years ago, and he’s only gotten worse since then.

Bubbles isn’t corporate bullshit. Luka feels like he’d be able to figure out something like that from conversation alone. But their talks have been friendly—and more than that, supportive. He’s even shown a few messages to the band, just to check that he wasn’t losing his mind. And he saw how their faces softened in approval, or lit up with excitement. Even Juleka’s.

Besides, Bubbles makes music. And when he samples something, he actually credits it. He knows how to play the game. And it feels like they’re on the same side of the board.

Bubbles has that stage presence; the fact that he only needs that one shadowy picture on his profile is more than enough of an indicator. And Bubbles has a reputation that precedes him. So even if they’re on the same side of the board, it feels like Bubbles is always just a couple of steps ahead.

At least his bandmates are on the same side, and at the same step. All it took was a casual mention, during a late-night band practice, of “the bakery he keeps getting their snacks from” being all in on getting them even more exposure. They didn’t exactly do a good job of hiding their excitement, but he wouldn’t have wanted them to, anyway. Even Juleka, after practice ended, had to admit, “You did good.” And then, with perhaps a bit more snark, “Maybe she’s the one trying to impress you. “

“Stop,” Luka said with a roll of his eyes, but he couldn’t help thinking about it once the partition between their beds was up. There was no way Marinette Dupain-Cheng was trying to impress him.

…Was there?

By now, nearly a day later, Luka’s still asking himself that. Still hemming and hawing like they have more than just two weeks to get their act together. Pacing below deck with his phone in his hand, thinking about pear tarts and pretty faces instead of going to see them in person, and staring at Marinette’s phone numbers until he thinks he’s accidentally memorized both of them.

He doesn’t recognize the pattern or the area code of one of them, so he can only assume that it's an American number. But he still hasn’t mucked up the courage to text or even save the French one in his phone. Why does he need to be scared in the first place? It’s a phone number, and this is strictly business, and everything between them has been strictly business.

Well. Nearly everything. Nearly strictly.

He thinks.

Okay. Okay. All he has to do is say… what? Hi? Who just starts texting someone for the first time with “Hi?” But he can’t go writing a whole essay either, even though at least now he has the power to edit his words instead of just saying them and hoping for the best.

This is harder than it needs to be. And yeah, maybe he’s just making it harder than it needs to be, but it’s not like his brain and the shake in his hands are giving him much of a choice in the matter.

Luka switches back over to his message thread with Bubbles and shoots off a quick reply—flatterer—because maybe answering something easy will make the hard stuff more tolerable. He finds himself looking toward his guitar as though it might lend him strength… well, what the hell. It couldn’t hurt. He plays a doodle or two, idle notes, and catches himself before his fingers can drift toward the beginning of the ocean-blue song. At this point, it’s neither perfect nor good, and he can’t tell if it’s personal dissatisfaction or the numbers that the latest draft has been doing online.

Both. It’s probably both.

Messaging Marinette ends up being just as hard after his attempts at centering as it was before—because as it turns out, the whole music-giving-him-unbridled-confidence thing really only works while he’s playing it. So now he’s left still staring at the blank NEW MESSAGE screen, the cursor blinking almost tauntingly at him because of course it is. Because somehow, he can write a note telling a girl her eyes are pretty and survive long enough to see her smile about it, but he can’t send that same girl a text. It’s not like he can even see her reaction this time, anyway; that just gives him even more of an advantage.

Okay. Okay. He can actually do this. Maybe. He thinks—no, no, he has to.

With a deep breath that he holds longer than he releases, Luka opens a new message.

To: Marinette hey. it’s luka.

And like an idiot, he hits SEND before he’s even put the rest of his message together. So now he has to make a mad dash to come up with something so he doesn’t seem like a total creep for messaging her out of the blue.

For fuck’s sake. This is exactly why he writes his messages in the notes first.

To: Marinette sorry, hit send before i could finish. anyway, just wanted to tell you the band is cool with the postcard idea. i can pay you next time i come to the bakery, if that’s cool.

To: Marinette anyway, it’s really cool of you to offer your help like this. sorry if i didn’t say so yesterday, it’s kind of been... a wild time.

Luka locks his phone before he can agonize too much over what he’s sent, stuffs it away and starts pacing again. It’s not a frantic, shaky thing; no, he’s learned to keep the shakes on the inside until no one’s around to see them. He jumps when his back pocket vibrates, and he nearly drops his phone trying to fish it out. It’s only Bubbles, and he can’t tell whether he’s relieved or disappointed until his phone buzzes again. Twice. And this time, it actually is from Marinette.

From: itsdjbubbles Sorry, I was getting some stuff ready for my next project. Listen, I’m just saying. Don’t sell yourself short as this stuff. Paris is gonna hear you up there, and it’s gonna lose its collective fucking mind.

From: Marinette hi luka ☺️ no worries, i do that too sometimes. here’s the mockup for the postcard. let me know what your band thinks, i’ll do some tweaks and send it to print. sound good?

Luka balks, both at the tone of the message and at the picture she sent. It looks almost exactly like the flyer, same color scheme and everything. The only difference seems to be in the composition, which makes sense; she’s got more of the eye for this stuff, even for someone who only “dabbles.”

To: Marinette wow, this is... thank you? that was fast. and this is really well put-together. i think they’re gonna love it.

you really weren’t kidding, huh.

Luka finds himself sinking onto his bed and staring at the message thread instead of actually doing something productive. And strangely, he’s fine with that. The more time passes, the less scary it is to see her typing back, again and again and again.

From: Marinette course i wasn’t kidding. “help” is practically my middle name to the people who matter.

and i mean, there’s only a little bit of time until your show, right? so, gotta get movin.

anyway, i gotta run. my friend needs help for his summer class and i promised i’d go visit today.

Keep me posted about your band!

♥️

There is far too much in that message for Luka to need to process. “People who matter?” “Keep me posted?” The literal heart emoji at the end? He reads their messages over and over, mostly to confirm that this really, actually just happened, but he’s not going to push his luck. Maybe she just talks to everyone like that, and more importantly, the two of them haven’t been much more than a series of transactions anyway.

A... lot of transactions.

That she’s been doing a lot of giving for.

Luka tries and at least sort of succeeds at shaking the thought from his mind; he can’t read hers, and he shouldn’t try to. He sends her one last text—cool, have a good one—and switches back to Bubbles before he can worry if his words were too casual.

To: itsdjbubbles Thanks for the vote of confidence. I guess you’re not the only one? the bakery I go to, they’re offering to help too.

or, I mean, CBG is offering to help.

Bubbles’s reply doesn’t come until a few hours later. It’s presumably after that project work he mentioned, and definitely after Luka’s had some time to play out the rest of the shakes before he goes busking. His phone buzzes with the notification just as he’s about to leave, and what Bubbles has to say makes his stomach churn and his blood run both hot and cold.

From: itsdjbubbles wait. wait wait wait. hold on i just scrolled your posts.

CBG is *Marinette Dupain-Cheng?*

ohhhhhhh my dude you are in for it now.

[paulsmashedpotato]

Is the ask thing still open? If so, then can I please request 29, 61 and 69 w/ Roger and fem! reader please? I think a little bit of angst and mostly fluff would be best, but you can do what suits you. Thank you!

I don't know if you meant to write 60 instead of 61 but here you go with 61! :-} I was supposed to post it yesterday but it says, "You hit a snag" something like that and none of what I typed got saved in the drafts. Huhu. Anywyayyy, enjoyy! :-)) Thanks for the suggestion!

Masterlist

A Mess Without You

Pairing: Roger Taylor x fem!reader

Word count: 1.1k

"Fred?" You croaked the moment you heard Freddie's voice from the other line. "What is it? Why are you calling?"

"Can you come to Roger's place? He hasn't been picking up any of our calls, we need him —"

"Fred, you know we just broke up two days ago." You cut him off, all the sleepiness finally washing away from you. "I know, y/n, dear. This is a bit insensitive, but we really need you right now."

You sighed, closing your eyes while you think of nothing particularly. The only quiet ringing on the telephone was all you could hear.

"Fine, fine. I'll see what I can do, Fred," you finally said. You could hear the excitement and joy in his voice when he thanked you multiple times before hanging up.

You lazily sat up, looking at your bedside table to check the time. "Almost midnight," you whispered, getting up and putting on some pants. You threw over a jacket, checking yourself in the mirror. You felt nervous seeing Roger after two days. It's the first time the two of you didn’t talk for a whole day — let alone two days ever since you started dating.

You thought it was best to break up, neither of you had time for the relationship, both were busy at work and if ever given a free time, you two would fight over the smallest things.

Silence.

You pulled over the driveway, making your way to his door. You groaned, noticing how the mat is facing the wrong side again. "Told him a thousand times," you flipped the mat before knocking.

You knocked again, this time repeatedly and louder — not too loud though or the whole neighbourhood will flip.

You were still answered with silence.

"Roger!" You called. "Rog, it's me, y/n!"

There was still silence. A few cricket noises were the only response you're getting. You leaned your ear on the door to try and hear if the TV's open — or just any noise at all.

The door suddenly opened, causing you to trip and fall on Roger's chest. "Y/n?" You immediately stood straight, muttering an apology. He pulled you in a hug, catching you by surprise. "Y/n, you're back!"

"Rog, I'm not actually —"

"I missed you." You stopped trying to push him off of you when he started sobbing through the hug. "Stay, please," he cried, you fought every urge to cry, bringing your hand up to his back to rub circles.

You looked at his living room; empty bottles and cans of beer were left everywhere. Worry spiked you when you suddenly imagined him tripping on one of those and cutting himself if he ever accidentally break a bottle. "Can you stay the night?" He asked, finally breaking the hug. "I can't, Rog." You met his bloodshot eyes, you could tell he hasn't been getting enough sleep and he must've been bawling his eyes out the past nights.

"Please."

You held your breath for a second, looking back at your car and thinking of going home, before bringing your eyes back to him. You nodded, following Roger in and closing the door.

A few more bottles were on the dining table. "Did you drink tonight? Are you drunk?" You asked, sitting down on the spot you usually sat on when you lived with him. "Did you eat already? I think I still have food left here. Anything you want to drink? I have tea — there are still three bags left." He was opening and closing the cabinets, trying to find something. He looked so... Lost.

"Rog," you called.

He was still rummaging through his drawers. "Rog," you called again, but he was still rushing to get you something to eat and drink. "Roger!"

He stopped panicking, turning around to look at you. "Can you sit here?" You asked, pointing at the spot next to you. He rushed towards you, almost slipping on whatever liquid it was that was spilled on the floor.

You leaned on the table with your arms, looking at him sadly. "How much have you been drinking?" You asked. He didn’t answer, instead, he lied his head on the table. "Y/n," he murmured. "I never lied to you. But I may have cheated on you with work. I spent more time at work, at tours, and if I ever get the chance to be home, we'll be fighting endless." His tears started flowing again. "I really understand why you left. It must've been lonely and tiring for you being in here."

You brought your hand up to his head, massaging it comfortingly. "You're really drunk, Rog. Roger's drunk-drunk."

"I'm not. He's not. Roger's not drunk," he retorted, wiping his tears. You just smiled sadly, continuing to massage him. Roger was a like a little kid with you whenever he drinks — and you missed it. You missed him a lot. 

There was a few minutes of silence before he talked again. "Roger misses you so much."

You smiled. "Does he now?"

"Yeah. He's been crying non-stop for you. He couldn't sleep — bed feels too big. He even flipped the mat wrong thinking maybe you'd come back just to nag him about it —" You laughed, rolling your eyes at him. "— I guess that kinda worked. He's really been lost without you — Roger, that guy. He clearly likes you... Love even."

You sighed, getting up. "Come on, let's get you to bed. I think Roger's had enough to drink."

You helped him up to the bedroom, tucking him in bed. He tapped the space next to him, asking you to get on. You did so, putting a pillow on your back to prop you up in a half-sitting position.

He immediately cuddled up to you, resting his head on your chest. "This might be the best sleep I'm ever going to get," he mumbled. You played with his hair, thinking about how much you missed this; him wanting to be babied when it’s just the two of you, talking about everything random, or just being together; it rarely happened anymore when you both got too busy with personal jobs.

"Y/n?" He raised his head up a bit to look at you, you hummed as a response. "Remember that time you loved me? Probably don't, it never happened."

You scoffed, flicking his arm. "Don't get too drastic. You know I never not loved you."

"You never would've left."

You both fell into silence. You made sure to think about what you were going to say before letting the words out. "You know, sometimes, you need to take a while apart to realize just how much someone means to you." You smiled. "And you did realize the right things when I was gone."

He reached for your hand, squeezing it tight and sealing it with a kiss. "You'll still be here when I wake up, right?"

"I promise." You smiled. You changed your position — you snuggling on his chest while he hugs you tight. "Don't leave again. I'm a real mess without you." He planted a long kiss on your head. "I won't, Rog. Goodnight."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

[lawyerd]

This obviously isn’t the way I expected things to end, but, as I’ve been alluding to all week, today I am officially finished with law school!!

Thanks to everyone that joined me on this journey. I saved this URL in the spring before my 1L year, after spending months flipping through other studyblrs and feeling motivated and, frankly, in love with the aesthetic. I started off taking a bunch of photos and saving them to my drafts, thinking I’d only ever really “launch” this blog if I amassed enough content first, since I knew I’d be too busy to actually update it daily without some kind of backlog of posts. That plan went out the window sometime in November of 1L when I accidentally hit “post” instead of “save to drafts” and this blog was officially born.  

This blog was a little light for me throughout law school, but especially during 1L. Spending 15 minutes a day to do something as little as arrange my books and edit a photo gave me a break when I most needed it. During 1L, I was still struggling to meet my friends, so interacting with the online grad and law school communities made me feel supported and encouraged. I feel like I answer less question now than I once did (is this because people have stopped asking or just because I’m tired LOL there’s no way to know), but I loved sharing a little bit of insight into what my experience was like and I was surprised to see that nearly 40,000 of you were interested in hearing it. 

My blog has changed over the last few years, from a focus on hand lettering, something I’ve always loved but that’s time-consuming and inappropriate for legal notes, to quicker and easier photos of what I’m reading, eating, drinking, enjoying and well, looking at. I hope the shift hasn’t been disappointing haha. I feel like it happened pretty casually. I think the stress of law school has helped me to slow down in my personal life and find enjoyment in, well, at the risk of sounding cliche, the little things. Waking up early enough to truly enjoy a cup of coffee before school or work has become a singular pleasure, as has a nice, fresh pastry and long, comforting novel. 

This slower lifestyle seems well-suited to COVID-19, and I guess in a way, I’ve been lucky in this moment that so much of my own joy has always derived from being in my own home, but the world still feels terrifying and isolating and it’s a strange time to graduate, and a stranger time still to celebrate your own accomplishments. 

I think I enjoyed law school a lot more than much of the online law school community, but man, I’m happy it’s over. I met some of my best friends here and had some truly fun, goofy, incredible times, but I also developed both high blood pressure and an anxiety disorder solely from school-related stress, gained and lost weight every few months in a cycle, lost more sleep than I can possibly convey and strained a lot of my personal relationships at various points. I feel physically exhausted and as though I’ve really dragged myself across the finish line here. 

I keep finding myself tearing up. This is huge, guys. I decided I’d like to be a lawyer when I was like 11 or 12, but I never thought I’d do actually do it. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just been life-long imposter syndrome. I’m the first lawyer in my family, which is in and of itself a hurdle, and I feel like I faced constant financial and familial hurdles throughout. I didn’t get into those here, but trust that they were many. These past three years have been the hardest of my life for more than just school-related reasons. I know I have a lot of younger followers in high school and younger, so I suppose this is my very corny, but absolutely heartfelt message to you to follow your dreams. It’s not always easy, but you can do it. 

So, next steps - first, a short break, unusual for law grads who usually immediately have to take the bar. I was initially devastated at the bar’s postponement, but I’m trying to take advantage of the delay to heal myself a bit, hopefully, while working on some pro-bono COVID-related projects. Then, I’ll study the delayed bar (fingers crossed that it isn’t pushed back further) and, eventually, become a lawyer.

Thanks for joining me on this ride  ⚖️

Xxx Kit 

[adrenameg]

to the anon that sent me a request regarding ‘Julie being protective over her s/o when she sees them being made fun of for being with her’ i accidentally posted it again instead of saving to my drafts so i had to delete it🙂🙂🙂🙃🙃 that’s why i don’t have the actual ask above as i also forgot to screenshot it ajajsjsjs forgive me for being an idiot .... hopefully you enjoy the little fic .. 💜

Julie (Legion) being protective over her s/o

“Why would you want to be with her?” David laughed, slapping his knee, clearly finding his joke hilarious.

“I know, right? Like, how can you see anything good in her?” Nea wiped her tears from her eyes.

“She’s actually nice! She cares for me and she’s not as mean as she makes herself out to be!” You argue in Julies defence, but to no avail.

“Right, right. You’re telling me a killer has any other feelings than bloodlust?” David and Nea exchanged glances before bursting into a fit of laughter at your expense, again.

You liked the other survivors, I mean, you kinda had to seeing as you were stuck with them for the rest of your life. Some of them irked you, like David and Nea, but only because ever since you’d arrived in the fog, they’d made fun of you and not once had they apologised for hurting your feelings.

“Yes. She loves me” You snapped, narrowing your eyes at the two.

“That, is comedy gold” Nea pointed at you before gripping David’s arm and holding her stomach in an attempt to stifle her laughter.

“Seriously? Love? A killer?” David raised his eyebrows and looked around the group. A couple of the other survivors chuckled slightly, it was clear they didn’t believe a killer was capable of love either.

“I think it’s possible” Meg commented, shrugging her shoulders and giving you a sympathetic smile.

“Me too, some of them are actually human” Kate added. You thanked her with your eyes.

“God, you lot are freaks” David replied. “So you don’t think these killers are just using you purely for their sexual needs? If they even have that!” A thought crossed your mind, that perhaps Julie could be using you, but you quickly dismissed the thought, knowing David was just trying to get under your skin.

“You know, I’m fed up with you both always making fun of me! Why do you do it?” You felt on the brink of tears, you were never one for confrontation.

Julie watched you being poked fun at from afar, through the gaps in the trees. She knew she wasn’t allowed in the survivors area, she knew that she would get punished by the Entity, but she would do anything for you. Like hell was she going to let those so called toxic survivor friends of yours ridicule you for being with her.

“Hey!” Julie shouted as she practically sprinted up to the group. Dwight shrieked, grabbing onto Jake who side eyed him. You turned, smiling when you saw her. David and Nea’s eyes widened as Julies anger literally radiated off of her. “Who do you think you are?”

“Huh?” David replied, absolutely shell shocked that a killer was in front of him, in the survivor camp.

“I said, who do you think you are? Constantly making fun of them?” She pointed at you. “For trying to find something that makes them happy in this shit place? Who are you to make them feel deflated and upset that the people they have to spend most of their time with are horrible to them?” Julie ranted, her hands flying all over the place. The most threatening thing was, her knife was being held tight in one of her hands, narrowly missing David and Nea.

“It’s just a bit of fun” Nea looked scared now, moving back slightly to put distance between her and Julie.

“A bit of a fun?” Julie laughed. “How would you like it, huh? If you were new here, and the people you relied on made this shit situation even worse?” She folded her arms, her stance menacing.

“I guess it wouldn’t be nice” David scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly looking at the other survivors for support. They didn’t give it to him.

“Exactly” Julie snapped. “Now, I don’t want to see any more teasing from you two, because if I do, ha, well, you’ll find out” She swung her knife expertly between her fingers and caught it in the palm of her hand. “Come on” She said, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the woods with her.

[duhragonball]

Out of This World

I forgot the third thing I wanted to bring up in the Potpourri post, but it finally came back to me, so I want to talk about it here: the forgettable late 80′s sitcom “Out of This World”.  

There were a lot of dumbass sitcoms in the 80′s.    It still seems surreal to me that society seems to have moved past this, but in the 1980s there seemed to be absolutely no reason not to do a comedy about a family or group of co-workers dealing with some high-concept absurdity.    “ALF” is the one everyone remembers, which I guess is a testament to the ALF character, but there were plenty of other, goofier ideas floating around out there.   For example, “Small Wonder” was about a family where the dad built an android child and they just sort of rolled with it, I guess.    I think part of the trouble was that the sitcom formula had already gotten stale by the mid-80′s, to the point where your pitch almost had to have a gimmick to get a second look.  

And, you know, Mr. Ed was from the early 60′s, so it’s not like high concept was anything new, but I’m pretty sure there weren’t fifty other “talking animal” sitcoms running through the same decade.   In the 80′s, it was like the TV industry considered “My Favorite Martian” a genre in and of itself, and the trick was to find some new twist on it.  

For “Out of This World”, the hook was that the dad, Troy, is an alien, but he’s never actually around because he got drafted to fight some war in outer space.  The show is actually about his half-human daughter, Evie, who develops some of her father’s super powers once she turns 13.  I only remember seeing a handful of episodes, but mostly it was about the girl getting into wacky sitcom hijinks, usually causing a problem with her powers and then using her powers to fix it.   In every episode she’d talk to her dad on the space radio and everyone would learn an important lesson about, I don’t know, let’s say friendship.    .  

I’m watching the pilot as I write this, because I want to make sure I get this right, and man is it awful.    Evie’s uncle is in this, and he knows the secret, but his main purpose on this show is to be the butt of every fat joke the writers had on file.   Evie’s mom is anxious about Evie developing powers, and the uncle is worried that she’ll accidentally transform herself into a lizard.   Instead, she accidentally stops time for everyone else, which forces mom to tell the truth.    This is downright painful to watch, because Evie’s the only kid in 1987 who doesn’t seem to know or care about space aliens, because that’s the only way to drag out the reveal.    Once it finally sinks in, she gets upset and shouts “Then that means I’m... half-creature!”

Oh my gosh, they actually make an ALF reference in this show!   Evie’s mom has to convince Evie that dad looked like a regular-ass person, or else they wouldn’t have married and conceived her.   “Look, kiddo, do you really think I’d bump uglies with just any alien?   Your dad was a snack.” This is really awkward and dumb.  I gotta give credit to the other actors in this, because they spend most of this episode frozen in place while they work out this timestop thing.    

The problem in the pilot is that Evie can stop time and unfreeze people by touching them, but she can’t touch all of her party guests one by one without exposing her secret, so they don’t know what to do.    Her Uncle Beano (ugh) suggests using the Vulcan hand gesture, which... I’ll get to that in a second.   Her mom finally remembers that dad left a special present for Evie for her 13th birthday, and it contains this glowy crystal that functions as the space radio I mentioned earlier.   Troy is voice-acted by Burt Renyolds, which is extremely goofy once you know that, and he doesn’t actually tell them what to do.   Then Evie just gets a sudden urge to do the exact thing that fixes it, and I guess the moral is that all of this power stuff will come naturally?

The real appeal to all of this, at least for me, is this idea that Evie can finally connect to a father she’s never known, and bond with him over something they have in common.     Anything that makes her seem strange or alone can be written up to her being half-Anterean, and her dad can instantly relate.   It seems kind of cruel that they made her wait 13 years to use the space radio, but there’s some sort of genetic link thing that makes it work, and I get the impression that the technology requires her to reach that age before it’ll work properly.    The whole thing feels really contrived, but there’s this really touching concept at its core, if you’re willing to wade through sitcom cliches and insipid one-liners to find it. 

What always bugged me about this show, though, was that I only liked it for the alien lore and the drama that went with it.    I wanted to know more about Troy and the war he was fighting, and this Antarean culture that he only ever hinted at.   I liked the idea of the Evie character, caught between two worlds and not entirely comfortable in either.   But the show was never serious about exploring any of that, and the alien stuff was always window dressing for weak comedy “laffs”.   Or it was used as a metaphor for puberty, which always irritates me when shows do that.    I also hate the micro-aggressions that keep coming up in this show.   Some character will make a pop culture reference to aliens and that just bugs me.    Look, Beano, Mr. Spock is a fictional character, what your niece is going through is really happening so at least try not to be a dick about it.

The episode that I remember the most is the one where Evie decides to break the “no-telling” rule and reveals her secret heritage to her friend, who immediately blabs it to everyone, and before you know it, the government tries to capture her for dissection.    At one point, Troy even says that he might have to come back to Earth just to intervene, but then Evie’s mom betrays them... and it turns out it was all a dream.   Another dumb one, but I liked the idea of more people knowing the truth about Evie.  It made the premise feel more real. 

The thing that never made any sense to me was that Evie seemed to have immense powers over time and matter, and the implication was that Troy and everyone else on his world had even greater powers, so what was going on up in space that could threaten the Antereans for over thirteen years?   I doubt that ever came up much, since it would probably be a downer.  Everyone treated Troy’s off-world duties as an inconvenience, but if his side lost the war than Earth would probably be doomed somehow, right?   Really, the whole concept feels more like some sort of Greek mythology, with Troy as a benevolent god who impregnates a mortal.    There’s a running theme that Evie has to use her powers wisely in order to earn new ones, like the whole show is some sort of trial she has to pass.   Apparently the show ended on a cliffhanger, but I’d like to believe that the true ending would involve Evie saving the day and earning the mark of an Antarean adult: a Burt Renyolds mustache.