#idk if may's realized her own feelings for serena yet here but

[bump1nthen1ght]

Waltz of the Vampire (Vampire x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Fat!Reader/Fem!Vampire

Genre: Fantasy (Vaguely Historical/Renaissance)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3469 words

Summary: You forcibly attend the ball of the rich family that has just moved to town, unexpectedly finding comfort with one of their daughters.

Request: Hey!! I love your writing a lot! Would you consider an elf or a vampire whatever suits your fancy with a fat fem!reader. I try hard not to hate my body but it can be really hard sometimes and I know a lot of people go through it not just plus size folks but... idk it’s my weakness and a huge comfort. Anyway I hope you have a awesome day!!!

A/N: I really loved writing this request, and after I finish Thicker than Water, I might make a part two.

Serena has been to a lot of parties. Too many, in her opinion, even over her 326-year span of life. Her matriarch, “Mother” as she is called by her and the coven, believes there is no such thing.

Every move they make is celebrated by a grand ball, invitations sent out to every available person. Mother claims it’s the best way for them to fit in, to hide in the crowd rather than the shadows.

Serena understands this, she’s seen it work wonder for their reputation time and time again, but she still does not like them.

Tonight is especially dreadful, a bad hunt the day before and a quick spat with her “brother” enough to sour the whole get together. Serena spends most of the night eluding suitors and dance partners, embracing a mysterious persona so she can enjoy some alone-time.

As she looks around at the dance floor, Serena concludes that she is not a fan of the new fashion statements of this era. A bit too strict, too formal, with precise lacings and starchy hoop skirts. It makes the dance floor too stuffy in her opinion, no room to twirl your fabric or move your limbs.

She sips on her special red wine, eye’s lazily perusing the hall for her siblings, hoping to gain some company, when she spots you. Selena is brought to a pause, mid-drink, as your embroidered skirt glimmers, catching the light as you twirl it across the room. Her eyes widen, determination peaked when she notices you don’t have a partner.

How beautiful.

----------

Oooh, I love this song.

You hum, unconsciously bouncing from side to side as your favorite piano piece begins to play. It’s a piece you have on your list to learn in the future, bubbly and cheerful with a bumpy melody and the option for a fun violin accompaniment.

The energy of the music quickly translates to the dance floor, where couple’s begin to giggle and improvise amidst the strict waltz and counted-steps. It’s a shame that it’s such a good piece because for the first time of the night, you really wish someone would ask you to dance.

When the news the MacArthur’s were throwing a huge welcoming ball had reached your household, your mother quickly began throwing together preparations for you to attend. You had sighed, set your feet in a preemptive ice bath, and ready for another boring night.

As a former socialite herself, from girlhood you were forced to attend party after party. While it had done as intended and transformed your sister into a perfect lady, it had the opposite effect on you. The stiffness of the hoop skirts, the suits, and all the damn people always stuffed up your throat and flushed your face. With your sister as the shining star, it was easy for you to slip into the shadows, and avoid the preening of your mother’s etiquette lessons.

Now, as a growing woman with more and more free-time, you used all of your abilities to avoid huge social gatherings. You found your place amongst small gatherings with local friends, sneaking wine from the cellar and telling stories in the freezing cold around a fire

But as the music increases it’s tempo, with flourishing skirts and plenty of laughter, you can’t help but lose yourself in the joviality of the gathering. The fancy dresses, the even fancier alcohol, and the decadent ballroom had you wondering if you had been missing out a bit.

If only Margaret and Min-Young were here, now that would be a party.

You giggle into your champagne, heels still tapping against the hardwood and hand slightly tossing your skirt back and forth. You easily fall back into your reclusive corner to avoid embarrassing eyes who may glance upon your solitude. But a tiny yelp escapes you when your heel accidentally digs into a foot. You whip around, faced already flushed red with embarrassment.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I didn’t look where...I was…”

Behind you, dressed in a dark purple satin gown, is Serena Macarthur herself. She stands a solid two heads above you, hair done up in an immaculate up do and two shimmering ruby earrings dangling from her ears. Her face is serene, lips curled up in a bit of a smirk. You quickly jerk away and give a half-decent curtsy, noticing her beautiful black dancing shoes which you just stomped on. “I apologize, Miss Macarthur, I can’t believe I acted so foolishly. I didn’t realize-”

“Oh, there is no need to worry darling. I’m alright, no harm done.” She says, her voice low and musical, almost like a thrumming bass line. Her gloved hand is placed on your shoulder, the other slides up your neck and tilts up your chin to meet her eye line.

My god, she is stunning.

Her eyes are a color you’ve never seen before, not dissimilar to the sharp gemstones in her earrings. Serena’s makeup, simple yet sharp, does everything to accentuate the cardinal-red of her irises. You can feel the simmering blush heating up your skin as she continues to stare. “I was actually coming this way to speak to you, flower. It’s my fault really, for sneaking up on you.”

You shake your hands, nearly spilling over the champagne in your glass. “Oh no, it’s no problem. Like you said, no harm done”. You force a giggle, hastily taking a sip of your champagne. “May I ask what you wished to speak of?”

Serena smiles, a smirk which is just as sharp as the rest of her, though her eyes betray no slyness or ill-will. “I was going to enquire about your dress. I noticed it from across the room and was stunned by how enchanting it is.”

“Oh! Well, thank you very much.” You blush, unconsciously rubbing your finger over the embroidered flowers on the skirt. “I actually-”

“Whoops!”

In less than a second, you find yourself right next to Serena, as a drunk dancer trips and spills his drink all over the floor. You blink, brain not even fully processing what just happened, as you notice Serena’s arm on your elbow and the red wine splattered where you stood just moments ago.

Did she move me? But when-how did she-

“Sorry! Sorry about that.” The man slurs, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. His partner, a distressed young woman, grabs his elbow and forces him to stand straight. “Guess I’ve had too much.” His embarrassed partner chokes out a laugh as he continues to sway.

“Yes, it seems you have. Make sure to fix that, soon.”

Serena’s tone is barely above talking volume, but holds a command like a powerful shout, Both of the dancers jerk with surprise, furiously bowing as the female drags the man out of the hall.

Serena sighs, rubbing her forehead with exasperation. She turns toward you, smiles back on her face.

“Would you like to take this to the garden? Seems the party is getting a bit too rowdy for good conversation.”

You nod, still a bit befuddled by Serena’s quick mood change and even quicker reflexes. But you link elbows when she holds hers up in invitation nonetheless, following her outside.

---------

The Macarthur estate is beautiful, as expected, and the garden fits that image to a T. Even in the moonlight you can see the finely cultivated roses bushes which decorate it, along with the gleaming marble fountain and sitting space under an ornately decorated gazebo. The two of your heels click along the paved path as you walk towards the center, your half-empty drink still in hand.

“You were sadly interrupted, but you were mentioning something about the dress?”

You nod, taking another long sip of your champagne, hoping a little alcohol may temper your thoughts.

“Yes, I was just going to say that I made it myself.” Serena’s eyes grow wide, eyes darting up and down your attire, and you feel yourself fluster. “It’s a tradition in my family, you see. My great-great-grandmother was very diligent when it came to teaching her kids how to sew, even the boys, and it became such an insisted upon skill that all her children ended up making their own evening clothing for special occasions. It ended up filtering down that every child makes one special outfit themselves, for what occasion it doesn’t particularly matter, but something thatt is uniquely you.” You pull up the end of your skirt, pointing out the flower pattern. “I’ve always had a fondness for gardening, so I tried to incorporate that into my dress. Plus,” You smooth out your skirt, “Most party dresses I’ve found are a bit too restrictive for my tastes, I wanted something I could really get into some fun with, y’know?” You force a giggle, immediately wondering if that comment was a bit too salacious for high-society talk. Serena simply smirks, letting out a low chuckle of her own.

“I wholeheartedly agree. May I take a closer look?” She gestures to your skirt and you hastily nod. The two of you take a seat by the fountain, Serena’s glove accidentally brushing against your calf as she picks up your skirt. You try and control your shiver from the simple contact. She hums admirably as she runs along your work. “Such incredibly done Sunflowers, the detail you put in is astounding. And these are forget-me-nots, correct?”

“Oh yes, those are my favorite kind.” Serena’s hands continue to run along the linework, following the bumps and dips of each flower petal. “As you can see I had trouble with the lavender, what with the petals being so small.” Serena shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. She looks up at you, forcing you to hastily act as if you weren’t admiring her face.

“The work you put in makes them twice as beautiful, mistakes be damned.” You blush even harder, throwing your hand and taking a final sip of your champagne.

“Thank you very much, but I have a long way to go.”

Serena’s hand hasn’t left your skirt, now resting on her lap as she continues to look at you. You swallow the last droplets of champagne down your throat, trying to fill the silence.

“The band is incredible, did you hire them locally?” You stutter, setting down your glass. Serena continues to fiddle with your skirt.

“Some of them, yes, but the violinist is actually my older sister, Marigold.”

“Wow! Make sure to give her my compliments, she’s very talented.” Serena nods, before her eyes dart down your toes. As the music echoes out of the hall and into the garden, you had unconsciously begun to tap your toes to the beat. When she glances at you, she can see your head slightly bobbing, a content look painting your face. A small smile forces one on to hers.

How cute. She internally sighs, noting how soft the skin of your cheek looks, the nice curve of your jaw, and your adorable noise. The pulsing blood which would run down your throat, the crimson looking devine against your exposed collarbone and dripping below your breast line.

She stands up abruptly, forcing those evocative thoughts out of her mind. You were quite cute and good company, someone Serena would like to get to know. Sometimes the crossed wires of her brain confused attraction for bloodlust, mistaking the butterflies for hunger pains.. She is almost embarrassed; It was one of the common hurdles new vampires had to overcome, a bridge she thought she crossed years ago

You startle, looking up at her with innocent doe eyes. Serena holds out her hand, ignoring how she can hear your steady pulse, unintentionally matching the beat of the music.

“May I have this dance, fair lady?” She almost whispers, bowing slightly.

Your face flushes, nodding without a word, and slipping your bare hand into her glove.

Serena boldly grabs your hip and presses you against her, quickly taking the lead. Your brain fervently recalls all of your formal dancing lessons, pressing your head into her chest as she takes you along.

In her arms, following her perfected steps, that slithering self-consciousness sneaks back into your brain. Your logic tries to reason with it;

You wanted to dance, but now that this beautiful woman has gladly offered her hand, you want to stop?

But your insecurities are louder, screaming about every trip and every spare touch. This close, you can feel her firm musculature through the dress, spotting the hint of her bicep as she leads you. With her dainty and elegant hand on your side, you feel twice aware of your size underneath, every imperfection concealed by your dress.

You had fallen in love with this dress when making it, but had always been hesitant to wear it. You feared that once you put it on, that beautiful picture in your mind would shatter, leaving you forlorned of what could never be. Not with you wearing it, you had thought, avoiding your own mirror as you left.

“Something on your mind, flower?”

Serena whispers into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Your back jerks and contorts back into position, almost stepping your foot on hers. You shake your head furiously.

“Oh no! I-I just-” You stumble, trying to find an easy excuse, but are stopped when you take a look at her face.

She’s resplendent, even up close, not a hint of makeup to be seen. But across her cheeks, slightly faded from what looks like years away from the sun, are-

“My, you have such wonderful freckles.” You murmur, without a second thought.

Unbeknownst to you, if Serena could blush, she would. But the scrunched up look of embarrassment is telling, hinting that maybe this beautiful heiress has her own things she hides away.

“W-well, thank you.” She hastily utters, eyes averting from yours. It’s uncharacteristically shy and you can’t control the giggle that escapes you.

To give her some reprieve, you take your eyes off her face and trail them around the garden. They catch on the fountain, where the contrasting colors of your dresses stand out amidst the black. In the reflection, the two of you could not look more different. Serena stands a head above you, slim-fitted dark purple dress pulled across her curves, while your bright green dress cinches at the waist, flowing out like the flower's detailed skirt. It blows and beckons with every movement, brushing occasionally against your form and showing off the contours of your body.

Damn, you think, we look hot.

Just as fickle as it’s counterpoint, confidence quickly overtakes your mind, blocking out the noise of your doubt. You hold tight to your beautiful partner, in the beautiful dress that you made, and allow the happiness of this moment to exist uninterrupted, however short it may be.

The music increases its pace, the smooth line of a saxophone bringing up the energy. With a new burst of energy, you allow yourself to improvise amidst the  strict waltz. You lift your weight off your heels and try to glide from step to step, like the fast-paced tango dancers your mother once took you to see. Serena matches your enthusiasm, gripping your waist, even lifting you a few inches off the ground when a particular chord strikes. Her fingers slightly tickle your ribs, an ecstatic giggle escaping you and you falter a misstep. Your mind almost stops, embarrassed by your stumble and that insecurity sneaking back in, but Serena follows your new tempo with grace, urging you along with improvisation.

Your bodies follow the music with abandon, ordered steps devolving into impassioned stamps and twists, Serena twirling you around as the violin and piano sing from afar. Your heart and mind are running on adrenaline. It’s like when you were little, letting out your energy in any way possible. Serena’s laughter is magical and for once you don’t detest your awkward snorts and chuckles.

As the music slows, the two of you near-tumble back into the fountain, taking a seat with heaving chests.

“Whew, I haven’t danced like that in a while!” You say, brushing a stray hair back behind your ear. Serena nods, patting her stomach as she continues to laugh.

“Me as well. I forgot how fun it could be, when you’re not counting your steps.”

“Oh good, you do that too. I always wondered how no one got dreadfully bored just saying 1-2-3 over and over.” You mutter, taking in a deep breath and patting her thigh. Your other hand drifts down to the fountain water, letting your fingertips brush across the top and inadvertently catching your reflection once more.

It’s not the most flattering angle, your shoulders slump and the water slightly distorted, and those intruding thoughts try to slip in once more.

Oh shut up, let us have this.

Your logic sighs, batting it away without another second thought.

As the two of you sit, your energy eventually begins to drift back down, your muscles slightly tired from that short burst of impact. You sneak a glance at Serena.

While her outfit is still immaculate, her updo shows the smallest signs of dishelevement, curly black hairs falling down above her ears. In a way, she’s more beautiful than ever.

“Me and some friends are actually getting together next week. The shepherd's daughter, Violet, is getting married and they are throwing a little shindig at the barn to celebrate. Do you want to come?”

Serena looks up at you, slightly surprised, face furrowed with that hidden bashfulness. But she nods nonetheless, shooting you a bright smile.

Still high off your dance, you just barely miss her large fangs, which glimmer under the moonlight.

You smile back, only startled when the large bell tower from  the center of town chimes. Your head looks towards it’s large face and back towards the moon position. You’d guess it was midnight. Seems the two of you had lost track of time while dancing.

“Well, I should probably be going.” You say, standing up and brushing off your skirt. “I do have some gardening to attend to in the morning, going to need a solid amount of sleep. But,” You say, eyes demure and locked on your toes as Serena stands up, “I had a lot of fun tonight. More than usual, I would say.” You giggle, twirling a strand of your hair. Serena hmms in agreement.

“Me as well, flower. Your company has been the highlight of my night.”

In a bold move, Serena grabs your hand and lays a kiss on the back of it. Her eyes radiate that power and certainty from before, crimson irises shining in the night. Your blush crawls its way back up your neck.

“I-I can say the same.”

The two of you stay in that position for a moment, Serena pulling away her lips but keeping a lingering hold on your hand. Your heart thrums in your chest, while hers is deathly silent. Neither of you wants to be the first to pull away.

“I-uhm.” You stumble, hand still locked in place.

Now’s as good a time as any. You suppose.

In a quick movement, your hand loosens from Serena’s grasp and you give a quick peck on her cheek. In another, you have pulled away, sprinting towards your carriage.

“I-I’ll see you Saturday!” You shout, nearly tripping over a rose bush.

Left behind in the garden stands Serena, cold hand pressed against the burning skin of her cheek. Your kiss shot through her body like a lightning strike, almost jolting her frozen-heart alight.

That night, Serena goes for a hunt. She barely takes the time to change out of her formal clothes, nearly tearing the delicate lacework of her dress. Her claws catch on her gloves and almost rip apart, her heels scuffing the floor as she kicks them off and to the side. Her undead body is thrumming with life, untapped energy that longs to get out.

Her thoughts run a mile a minute, forcibly distracted by the Grizzly bear she currently has in a choke hold. It puts up a good fight, but Serena is running off of pure bloodlust.

At least, she thinks it’s bloodlust. A deeper part of her knows it's something else; The sparking fire of something new and a little bit frightening.

The last time she was personally invited to a ball, an event, a ceremony was less than a couple months ago. When you hold a position such as hers, look like her, they are common occurrences.

But to a party? Not a politically motivated meetup, but a genuine, let your hair down, party? Well, she hadn’t been to one since she was a youngling of 150.

And for the first time in a while, she is excited.

[insecure-hbo-the-recaps]

hella disrespectful

REMINDER/ALERT: Tumblr has locked me out of my original account and from now on I will be posting from this address. PLEASE FOLLOW ME HERE. Do me the additional favor of unfollowing the previous account though I have not yet figured out how to get Tumblr to delete these accounts that I am no longer able to access but that will probably simplify things a little, idk.

Previously on Insecure: "I don't want your conversation - get in my line up;" "Woot-Woot's dead;" "This whole open thing sounds super messy;" "I can't believe Issa's still out here seeing this dude;" "Did you really just do that in my fucking face?"

Issa's in the crib getting some moral support from Molly and I just gotta say I got kinda a bone to pick here:

Issa ain't riding no bike! You know damn well Issa ain't riding no bike! If she were she wouldn't be so fucked up after getting her car smashed. My ex lost a bunch of weight randomly biking all the time and I would get so worried about him biking in subzero temperatures. Getting worried about a partner was new to me, btw. I realized I never worried about it possibly happening that someone I was dating would die lol, like while I was dating him. He'd drop me off and I'd ask him to text me when he got home and if he didn't I'd wake up in the morning seriously thinking "omg what if he got in an accident and died last night?"

Molly is on Issa's team regarding the "surprise" facial. She wants Daniel to be fucked up on sight. Where is Molly? This room looks old fashioned and kitschy as fuck, and the headboard is different from the one she has at home. Issa doesn't want to see Daniel again, but that's not a problem for Molly, who wants to BRRRRR-TATTTT on Daniel with a water gun full of raw eggs.

Issa's pain is deeper though - she was trying to show Daniel that he was special to her and he embarrassed her. To be honest I am still having a hard time getting on the same page with Issa and her deeply insulted reaction to Daniel's surprise facial. On the other hand - I had that happen to me once and I literally never spoke to the guy again. Like in Issa's case, I assumed he did it on purpose... buuuuut, me and that guy kind of hated each other so it made sense. I guess I'm having a hard time relating to why Daniel would have done it and as such why Issa's so offended. It's a little contrived, I think, is what I'm saying. I repeat: a good dude wouldn't do this to you. So either Daniel is a good dude, or he's exposed that he's not. Accidental unwanted facials aren't a thing.

Molly is being a good friend, validating Issa's feelings, and ranting about how men watch too much porn and think that shit's ok. Molly possibly had an ulterior motive, because being in a safe space she feels ok to tell Issa she's still seeing Dro. "I thought that was a one and done?" Issa asks. "It's more like a seventeen and not stopping no time soon," Molly says, and SIGH. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS MOLLY? IT'S A TERRIBLE IDEA. Why would she even want this? Aren't some men just generally off limits? Dro seems like the kind of guy, with the kind of history, that should just be not an option (particularly considering he's married). Issa still isn't buying that anyone, especially Molly, benefits from this alleged open relationship, which Molly is offended by. They are telling each other hard truths, softened by years of honest friendship, and although they aren't on the same page, they agree to love each other through the stupidity.

Yaaaas, bitch. Issa' still on the bus. She spots the latino kid again, who removes his backpack and Entemann's donuts to give her the seat. When he pulls out a PSAT prep, Issa sees an opening and tries to chat him up about the teacherly and tutorly pursuits her job offers. Surprisingly to both Issa, and the audience I think, the kid says he tried to go but was told by Mr. Gates that the program was full. Issa finally appears troubled by this now that she is confronted by someone she sort of deliberately left behind.

Lawrence Tech Start up. Lawrence is wearing a Santa Claus/footie pajama red thermal and it looks crazy. Colin the Clueless White Guy sidles up to him (in an equally ridiculous printed button up - buttoned all the way to the top naturally) and burgundy pants and makes small talk while Lawrence pours himself a coffee. Colin is all in Lawrence's business for no reason in a gotcha conversation that just serves to prove Lawrence and Arpant have been kicking on the side and trying to hide it at work. Cliffs notes they suck at it and their coworkers have sniffed them out.

Molly is riding around somewhere with Quintin in his wood grain Lexus. He brought her popcorn from Garrett's and while I appreciate the shoutout I've literally never heard of such a thing as RANCH in Garrett's - like - what? It's cheddar and caramel. Stick to the script. Don't try to be new and exciting. You tell someone in Chicago Garrett's is doing ranch popcorn and they will look at you wondering who lied to you. (Note to self: get some Garrett's for the first time since high school.) Molly tries it and is hooked. Quintin asks about Molly's "white boy" meeting: apparently she is going to shoot her shot and ask for the raise. Quintin says he's going to be in LA soon and asks Molly to show him around. Molly: a beat passes before she goes "mm, ok," because she understands the pass he has made at her.

SILICON VALLEY IS SO MILLENNIAL AND COOL. Lawrence is looking for Arpana to make amends for blowing their spot. Arpana does that thing of being possibly offended at keeping things a secret WHILE playing standoffish at the implication that they are anything to be kept secret. Hmmm. Bold move, Cotton. Let's see if that works out for her. Lawrence confirms drink plans, Arpana teases him, blah blah.

At the office, Issa seeks out Frieda and asks to talk. Frieda isn't all that interested, but then Issa presents some research on how to increase latino enrollment at their school. Issa beams at her in approval because apparently they thought of the same plan. Frieda is relieved that she and Issa are back on friendly wavelengths again, and asks where Issa's change of mind came from. Issa acknowledges that she's been lost in herself and Frieda was right. It's a good apology and Frieda is cool with it.

Meanwhile at Molly's Dro shows up with a bag of groceries and Molly's keys. He asks her if she wants them back and she says no. MOLLY. WHY. I DON'T GET IT. There are literally billions of available partners for you. What the fuck is the draw of being emotionally open to A MARRIED MAN? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? WHY DO YOU THINK THIS IS GOOD OR WILL WORK OUT? If you're going to fuck a married man in an open relationship ok, I guess, do you even though it's a thing on its own. But why are you trying to give the motherfucker your keys to your apartment? Christ, Molly. Molly gives Dro her bag of popcorn - that Quintin gave her - which cheapens the rapport Quintin was trying to build in that she tried to transfer it to Dro. I don't get it, Molly, truly.

They change subjects to Derek's birthday party and Molly sours at the knowledge that Dro's wife will be coming. Goddamn that man is tall. Look at him. He's like a basketball player.

ISsa gets a text from Tiffany who wants to know if it's cool that Lawrence is coming to the party. Issa screenshots and sends to Molly who is also offended at Tiffany springing Lawrence out of nowhere. This prompts Issa to check Lawrence's facebook, where she learns he has blocked her. She is really pissed about Lawrence taking their five year relationship to the brink of actually blocking her on facebook, resulting in another angry mirror rap. But she plays it off to Molly.

Law firm. Molly is sitting in front of a panel of three general pale men, pleading her case. She is cool and confident, all Law of Attractioning that she's going to receive the value she deserves. She parries their comebacks with all the agility of Serena. The partners agree with her, but are a bunch of stingy bastards that want to put her off as long as they are able to - they agree with her pitch and simply offer that it will be taken into consideration at her yearly review. And ain't that some bullshit? The idea of wielding that kind of bias because you understand you are bartering with someone that may not have the collateral to be as competetive as she could be. Stupid generic white boy Travis that is already making significantly more than Molly could walk into this meeting and be a threat if he suggested he'd leave because he isn't being paid fairly. When you're a black woman - what's she gonna do? Quit? She should be grateful she has the clout of such an establishment lended to her. Yadda yadda yadda, BULLSHIT.

At the school, Issa has not only decided what has been happening with their program is wrong, she decides she has to confront Principal Gates with it. She tells him they are discriminating and he asks what the problem is being the program is full - "now you're coming up to me with some 'All Lives Matter'?" Ouch. Frieda tries to step in and Gates looks at her, offended. Issa tells him that the latino students are being turned away and it isn't far. Gates again plays the "your tone is offensive/it's not that big a deal/calm down" argument and literally laughs in her face and walks away.

Lawrence forgot about Derek's party and wants to switch drinks with Arpana from 7 to 10. Yeah, no, Lawrence. He tells her his ex would be there and for some reason Arpana offers to go. That's a little messy. Like, have drinks the next day. Why insert yourself?

Back at Issa's, she's wearing a crazy dress getting ready to go to the party and Daniel calls. He wants to apologize and move on but Issa is still mad. She offers vulnerability and asks why he'd do that to her of all people. Daniel seems contrite enough as he asks for forgiveness - even tacking on a "please," and Issa visibly softens. She tells him she hates him which of course is female for "I love you."

Issa asks why their thing is always messy and Daniel, overestimating the strength of their reconciliation, offers that now they're even; he equates what he did to squaring things after Issa dogged him at the charity event last year. And honestly.... I mean, i won't ever condone an unwanted facial, but Issa did get off the hook pretty scott free for telling Daniel he was just an itch she had to scratch and don't tell her boyfriend because their shit was nothing comparatively. Like, Issa had to have known that was scoring points on him too. So, I'm gonna call this a wash. Issa is mad all over again that Daniel intentionally humiliated her, calls him disrespectful and petty, and tells him not to ever call her again. She stomps to her brother's car pissed off, who is apparently accompanying her to the party tonight.

At Derek's party, Kelli brought that random ass dude she met the other night - and good for her. Relationships can start just as well from the club as anywhere else - and for some reason Molly is wearing a black dress with random red armbands attached. And Tiffany is so fucking extra bougie as usual, like, she is simply not a sympathetic character. I can't with her Lori Greiner blonde wig and gratuitous bragging about how much she loves her man. How is anyone friends with her?

Anyway there is a random aside about how Kelli thought "Sweetie" was just going to be some strange, but she's meeting his parents at the mosque next week. Okey dokey. Dro shows up with his wife. While she's getting a drink he takes a moment to compliment Molly in Spanish. Remember Eric Jerome Dickey on Black People in California and how you could tell a black woman was upwardly mobile if she was fluent in spanish? (I have a friend who works in IR who once commented offhandedly that you only need to know spanish to liaise with poor people, and if you want to mingle with the wealthy you need to know French and/or Chinese. At the time I thought it was horribly offensive but now I know she was right.) Candace is awkward around Molly which does suggest she is aware and knows that her open marriage has led to her husband sleeping with this woman. Also this is apparently Dro's favorite dress which explains that, I suppose. Candace is wear a feathered burgundy cape, affixed to her shoulders with, apparently, double sided tape. I repeat: okey dokey.

Oh damn. That space is nice:

Tiffany signals for an extra toast, clinging the glass with a knife, to announce dinner is served. She makes Molly move from the seat she chose, putting her awkwardly seated at the head of the table. Issa and her brother arrive, and he's such a good buffer. Issa makes note of Candace and checks in with Molly about it. "What's up with y'all?" her brother asks. "Nothing, I'm fine, she grown," Issa says in one breath.

Lawrence's ridiculous ass shows up - in a nice denim button up - trying to ignore everyone aghast at him bringing a random date to this friends only event. He claims he didn't know it would be a sit down event, and everyone awkwardly makes room to accommodate his guest. See? Extra. None of this needed to happen. Lawrence decides to address the elephant in the room and introduces Arpana, who makes a crack about knowing how awkward she's made things. Yeah, that doesn't work when you knew full well in advance the circumstances were going to be awkward. But everyone is adults and they try to laugh it off. Issa orders a whiskey.

Mid-dinner. They are having lovely pretentious cultural conversation. When Molly tries to chime in everyone ignores her. She feels very left out and alone. J from ABG asks Lawrence why he's there, basically, and has to be informed that they all know each other because Lawrence is Issa's ex. By the next cut of passage of time, Issa is drunk.

The dinner continues awkwardly: Tiffany is fucking annoying, Issa's brother is a bitchy gay, and Issa is poor. Nobody's showcasing their best self, I think. When the conversation shifts to Issa's building being sold, there is a moment of Lawrence openly pining about how he and Issa used to live together. When Tiffany makes a toast to "the Barack to her Michelle" - so extra - Issa drunkenly comments about Lawrence's random. Enough being enough, Issa walks out. Lawrence follows. Oh boy.

He lies that he wouldn't have brought Arpana if he knew Issa would be there. She calls him out as being full of shit and tells him she knows he's just parading that girl in front of their friends. Also, she knows that he blocked her. Lawrence admits it, because he couldn't "stand to see pictures of the nigga you fucked" while they were together. The fact that Issa wasn't the one who posted them - parading around someone in Lawrence's face as it were - and that he accuses her of still fucking Daniel, as if that's any of his business, is more than enough to clarify that Lawrence is in the wrong here. It's all about his hurt feelings and what Issa did to him or owes him; that she would still be wronging him to see someone else after they broke up. He's bullshit, basically.

When Issa doesn't refute this, Lawrence lets his insecure flag fly freely and asks who else she fucked while they were together. Issa's voice breaks as she asks whether he's serious, especially since he fucked her while he was dating his bank teller. "And being some fake music producer's jump off is better?" Lawrene spits back. And... jump off? Are we still saying that? Also, he's hitting way below the belt whereas Issa was not. This is something that I suppose is an inherent misogyny in the black community that frankly at this point is no longer normal to me and is almost unforgivably egregious. So at this point I don't blame Issa for hitting back that Daniel has "way more going on than Woot Woot."

They both know that Issa has hit him below the belt now too, so they both go for broke: Issa asks whether all this was worth her supporting him for two years while he was depressed, and Lawrence counters that it is worth about as much as all the time she "spent being a fuckin' ho." And, again. Maybe I'm too far removed. But I can't see having anything else to do with someone who showed up with, I'm sorry it has to be said, an exotical to your black friendship group, calling your ex girlfriend a ho, and stomping off in a petulant rage. You couldn't come back from that for me, but that's just me. If you want to make the argument that Issa cheating on Daniel is equivalent to Lawrence mooching off Issa and doing nothing with his life with two years (WHO WAS PAYING ALL THOSE LIFESTYLE BILLS, MOTHERFUCKER?) and trying to hurt her by flaunting a new relationship in her face, I may be biased, but I don't think there's much room for redemption there.

Back at the party, Molly follows Dro to the bathroom and he already knows where her head is. Molly admits she wasn't expecting not being able to see him with his wife, and how left out she feels knowing that he won't ever be that way with her. Being someone's dirty little secret isn't fun. Dro convinces her that they have something too, and she lets him fuck her on the bathroom sink. I hope I am never this desperate for affection. And I'm not being hard on Molly, really. But I think she's being very foolish with her emotions and it's hard for me to understand why she would put herself in this position, knowingly aware every step of the way that she's setting herself up for failure. Case in point: Dro asks her to wait for a moment and let him leave the bathroom first. Still, inexplicably, Molly is hurt by this. Girl, please. You wanna play that big girl's game, but on your big girl panties then. She steps out to find Issa waiting for the bathroom. Issa wordlessly straightens Molly's bangs and zips up her dress and Molly thanks her, for her nonjudgment.

Lawrence is driving Arpana back and she asks whether he still wants to get drinks. He doesn't answer.

Molly finally calls her mom back, and tells her she just needed some time. She asks why Mom stayed with Dad, and Mom replies that she just loves him. Apparently Molly is in the same headspace and asks how she deals with the hurt. I don't want to be redundant and point out that Molly's hurt is unreasonable, because on some level I do suppose that's insensitive. But, I just don't have any sympathy for this. We all do shitty things. But you can't ask me to feel bad for the consequences of your shitty things when you are fully aware what you are doing is harmful to you. If I'm doing something that hurts, I figure my options are to keep doing it and stop whining, or to stop fucking doing it. When she gets home, Molly responds to Dro's scheduling text that she can't do this anymore but we all know it rings hollow.

Issa comes home to a letter on her door informing her of her rent increase, and it's finally too much.

Her experimenting with ho-ness turned out to be a bigger blow to her self esteem than she could handle, and she's clearly stung behind Lawrence calling her a ho. That's what she was trying to do, right? But in reality it didn't work out so well. Her side pieces were not pliable enough, the one guy she was seeing relatively seriously compared to the others deliberately humiliated her, and her ex that she had partially built a life with devalued the time they spent by diminishing her as the thing she was afraid of being seen as - a tool, a joke, a ho. She kicks a chair then just lashes out entirely, breaking dishes, throwing tables, smashing furniture.