#she’s weirdly forceful about the whole transaction

[sweetest-honeybee]

Ooooh the fact your manager hasn't gotten fired yet tells me that she's fucking someone higher up, back when I was a hostess we had a guy that was always no call no show, got into shouting matches with the cooks, etc. Only reason he never got fired? We all soon found out he was fucking our manager

LMAO I’d agree if she wasn’t literally ancient 😂

[takerfoxx]

Personally, I feel that the reason Suletta and Miorine work so well as a couple is the same reason why they didn't work for me at first: they're just such fundamentally different people, with total opposite personalities, upbringings, values, desires, needs, strengths, weaknesses, traumas, the list goes on. If it weren't for the very strange set of circumstances that forced them to form a connection, I honestly doubt that they would even be friends, so much so that for the first few episodes, I found myself feeling weirdly disconnected from their relationship, and even found myself wondering if they even liked each other.

I mean, take a look at Suletta. She's a country girl from Mercury's mining colonies who never had any friends of her own growing up. She's a clone created in part to replace her older sister, in part to usher in her mother's plan to free her sister, and in part to be a weapon of revenge, leading to an extremely bizarre relationship with her mother that is equal parts affectionate and neglectful. She loves being around people, but is so socially anxious that any sort of interactions sends her into a stuttering fit. She's terrified of confrontation, and yet is larger and stronger than most, and put her behind the controls of a mech, and she will turn you into mincemeat. She's a total klutz when it comes to dealing with other people, and yet stays cool in a crisis and isn't phased by dead bodies. She trusts with her whole heart, measures her relationships by the value she gives to other people, blames herself whenever others let her down, can and will take a life without flinching to protect those close to her, and is delighted by something so simple as having others laugh at a joke that she made.

Now, take Miorine. A rich girl from an extremely powerful family, she lost her mother, quite possibly the only person to ever show her genuine kindness when she was a child, was "raised" by her contemptuous and neglectful excuse for a father, and grew to resent everyone and everything around her. She hates being around people, but has the confidence and social knowledge to play the game. She's tiny and physically weak, but also angry and assertive. She openly loathes her father and will insult him to his face, but also desperately craves his approval. She's been used as a commodity her entire life by people who see her as a stepping stone into power, and is bound and determined to make everyone who tries damned to a living hell. She was raised in luxury in space, but dreams of running away to what is essentially a refugee camp of a planet. She wants so badly to be allowed to stand on her own two feet and be respected for her own accomplishments, but has no real idea how to do it. She views relationships as transactions, has exactly zero patience for other people's nonsense, can and will sacrifice her own happiness for the sake of the select few that she cares about, will run headlong into the most harrowing of political battles, but also fall apart completely when confronted with the reality of death.

And, like I said, for whatever reason I just didn't feel the sparks between them at first. Their whole relationship just felt like a mutually beneficial arrangement, like it was said to be.

But then we got to that magical episode, where they had that amazingly written misunderstanding in the greenhouse, followed by that incredible argument on the space station, and I realized that this was the plan all along, and Suletta and Miorine are actually perfect as a couple...once they've managed to bridge the gap between their extremely different life experiences and massive communication issues.

See, what's so great about them is that while they are extremely different, those difference are also perfectly compatible. One's strength is the other's weakness, and together they make each other better. In a way, they're less opposites and more of two halves of one complete whole. It was Miorine's confidence that allowed Suletta to start standing up for herself, to learn confidence and make real friends, to figure out what love is. And it was Suletta's bravery that inspired Miorine to find a way to make something of her own, to seek out ways to use their families' legacies to help people instead of hurt them, to bridge gaps long carved out by blood. And in the end, they were two desperately lonely girls who just wanted someone to truly, honestly, and unconditionally love them, and they found it in each other.

Granted, it was rough going for a bit. Like I said, they had such different ways of seeing the world, they didn't communicate in the same way, they didn't see relationships in the same way, and they ended up hurting each other just trying to do what they thought was best. But they also forgave one another. They strove to better understand one another. And they came to realize just how much they needed each other. And though it took even greater loss and pain in order to achieve it, they finally found their happy ending. They found each other.

[karliesbuzzcut]

(100) Million Dollar Lawsuit

Intro | part1 | part2 | part3 | part4

We are on the last chapter (for now) and this the most chaotic one. Mainly because it doesn’t follow any kind of chronological order (or logical sense), it’s just Russ going in circles for literal years.

But I’ll try my best to condense it for you, so all you need to do is to keep your seat belt fastened until the aircraft stops completely.

Right after the failed Ari lawsuit, Russ goes back to his one and only love: Taylor Swift 💫 And he has learned a lesson — not a good lesson, mind you, but a lesson: small claims courts won’t take him anywhere. If he really wants to punish women for not complimenting his suit, he will have to file a multi-million dollar federal lawsuit.

But, since denying sex from The Russell isn’t illegal (yet), he had to come at it from a different angle. I’m going to give Russ a chance to explain himself first.

Before you ask: yes, the following was Russell’s response to a woman thanking Taylor for visiting an 8 year-old girl who was very badly burned in an accident.

As I’ve always said, it’s okay if you aren’t fluent in Bullshit. That’s what I’m here for.

You see, Russell views human interactions as a series of transactions: I make a tweet worth liking, you go on a date with me; I take you to Olive Garden, you give me a handie for free; I put on a suit, you hug me and smile; I write you a song and sue you, you produce said song. Whenever women don’t fulfil their side of the deal, he becomes enraged.

But the reason he has such a strong hate-boner for Tay, is because she seemed to also follow his same ‘moral code’. A kid makes a cute video, she visits them at the hospital. A fan writes her a letter inviting her to their wedding, she goes to the wedding. A couple of kids fold 1989 paper cranes for Andrea, Taylor invites them to one of her concerts.

Russ thought “this is a done deal”. He didn’t write that song for Taylor because he particular liked her; he just thought she’d be the most likely artist to produce it — or at least acknowledge his existence.

I mentioned before that Russ wrote a whole-ass book about this. And I think it’s as good a time as any to talk about it. For a short amount of time, Russell chilled out about the ✨100 million dollar lawsuit ✨ but my guess is that he thought his book would get him the same results as a lawsuit? To be fair, the book is fantastic. 5/5, would recommend. 

He details the harassment he went through after suing Taylor Swift (the first time). Apparently old ladies at coffee shops would scream at him because he dared to sue Our Queen. A Mexican even pointed a gun at him (it wasn’t me, guys! Just a fellow countryman ❤️) and ordered Russ to drop the lawsuit. Computers at his job caught on literal fire because he was sent very powerful viruses. His friend Ken — who definitely exists! — was hit with a Molotov cocktail. Yep. 2016 was definitely the year people were willing to murder for Taylor Swift.

There’s also this brilliant dream sequence that involves an owl with the voice of Morgan Freeman, and Taylor’s agents guarding a tower in which she’s being held captive. 

ALSO ALSO: an entire chapter is called “SHE CHOSE HIM OVER ME”. Taylor Swift chose Joe Alwyn — a man she actually knows — over a man she’s not even aware exists. Women, amiright?

I think Russell would enjoy the Kaylor community to a certain extent. Not the lesbian part, obviously: he doesn’t trust women who don’t want to touch his peen. I just mean the baseless hatred of Joe. Look, I made a little collage of his rants ❤️ tell me if any of this sounds familiar!

You know — I’ve been joking around a lot about Russell just wanting to do the nasty with Taylor. But you know me, I like joking around. In reality Russ only wants what is fair. He wants to put a stop to all these senseless acts of kindness perpetrated by Taylor ‘The Generous’ Swift.

This isn’t about him at all, actually. Shame on you for thinking there’s an ounce of greed in that selfless little body of his. HE’S DOING THIS TO PROTECT THE KIDS WITH CANCER!

There are no ulterior motives here! This isn’t about a date!

THIS IS NOT ABOUT A DATE AT ALL GUYS STOP SAYING THAT.

I think this is my favourite post of his, because– grammatically speaking –he doesn’t specify which of them is wearing the red dress. And that sends me every goddamn time.

Anyway. The book, as magnificent as it was, got him absolutely nowhere. I know, I can’t believe it either. So he went back to focus on his lawsuit. But apparently not enough, because he didn’t serve her properly..? Now, don’t expect me to understand this, because I am very stupid (so it’s quite a good thing that I haven’t sued anybody for millions of dollars) but something about him sending the lawsuit to her old legal team..? And then trying to force UPS to serve her? I think he even said he was going to serve her in the middle of one of her concerts... but I’m guessing that didn’t go as planned 🤷‍♀️ oops.

Of course, Russie wouldn’t allow such an anticlimactic ending. Can you guess what he did? Please tell me that you can guess what he did. HE MADE ANOTHER SONG 😭❤️

This one is called ‘I Don’t Get You, Taylor Swift’. Another masterpiece that we definitely didn’t deserve 🙌

undefined

This was around April, 2019. By then I was being lured away by Kaylors, so I broke it off with Russ. I know that he filed a 3rd lawsuit against Taylor last year, which is just like the second one but hopefully this time he’ll be able to serve. And listen— I know that sounds like an awful thing to wish on Taylor, but I’d rather have Russell occupied suing a rich woman (who isn’t even going to deal with him), than a poor sex worker in Nevada. I bet TayTay would prefer that too.

Well guys, I’ve mentioned this a few times already, but I really had to be selective with the amount of information I was going to throw at you. I’ve avoided some of the shittier stuff he said or did, because I wanted to keep these posts as lighthearted as possible. I also didn’t touch on many things because they would just derail us. Like for example: one of the few lawsuits he has filed against someone who isn’t a woman, was against the state of Utah. I know, right? He’s trying to singlehandedly legalise prostitution in Utah, and even wrote a book (more like a pamphlet) brilliantly titled ‘Why I'm Making It Legal for Your 18 Year Old Daughter to Get In Bed with a Complete Stranger for Only 500 Bucks: A Short Essay from a Pro Se Litigant who is Challenging the Utah Brothel Bans’.

I copy-pasted that title guys, I swear to god.

The book is very graphic. This one I certainly do not recommend as I still suffer nightmares because of it.

Soren is a character who also had to be cut out — which is a shame because he really tried to be a good christian and help Russell. Not as in “I support you, Russell” but as in “why don’t you take a nap, Russell”. Turns out, even cinnamon rolls have a limit. Russ, of course, blames Taylor Swift for the fact that he’s losing his friends. I’m not joking — it’s an article in his lawsuit:

Greer has lost family relationships, friend connections and business connections because of the trauma of Taylor Swift. His family tells him to "get over it," resulting in shouting matches and strained relationships. Greer's friends get annoyed by his focusing on the trauma of it, when nobody knows the pain of getting rejected by a public figure — twice — and the fallout that has resulted from it.

Russell embodies that comic/meme of the little guy who puts a stick in his bicycle’s wheels and then blames Taylor Swift when he inevitably falls.

Sooooo...

Maybe someday I’ll write a post about Russ’ latest antics. I know he still posts stupid stuff on Facebook, which he later deletes. He shined especially bright at the peak of the BLM movement. He also plead guilty to electronic communications harassment— did you see that conviction coming? Yes, yes you did 😌

Regarding Taylor, I read that Russ knew someone who knew Todrick Hall — and Russ sent him a song and video for Taylor. All he got back was a Cease and Desist letter. But I’d have to do a bit of digging to get the details. I was already so overwhelmed with organising the information I was previously aware of, that I decided to leave the newer stuff for another time. You know, once I’ve had some time to inform myself... as well as a really long shower.

Since I left so much shit out, I’ll be taking questions if you have any. And if you can muster the courage to ask them. I’m weirdly proud of being some kind of Russell encyclopaedia. I might not have much going for me...

There’s no ‘but’ — that was the complete statement.

Before I go, I wanted to add this screenshot. I absolutely love it because it summarises ✨The Russell Experience✨. Russ wants Taylor to know pain, poverty and punishment. But when asked “why?” his answer is just “oh, I was ignored lol”

*none of the screenshots are mine

[lindsaysblue]

Hogwarts Mystery: Year 1

Summary Moira Fickle, an 11-year old student in her first year at Hogwarts, begins investigating the mysterious Cursed Vaults in an effort to find her missing brother, Jacob. She is accompanied by her new friends Rowan, Ben and Penny who are happy to help her no matter what. Good thing too because she'll need them in the years to come.

Chapter One Diagon Alley

Alternate Title Weird Together

Available on Wattpad, and AO3

"Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great."    

— Mr. Ollivander, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by J.K. Rowling

                                                   ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪

 Diagon Alley. It was busier than ever with families bustling about for back to school shopping. The majority of the students scuffling behind their families were going to Hogwarts. The school of witchcraft and wizardry, of course.

Young Moira Fickle is one of these students, preparing for her first year of her magical education. She stood clutching her list near her turning stomach as her light eyes wandered up and down the stone-bricked streets of the very place she used to visit every year with her family. Her whole family.

While many 11-year-olds would normally be excited to attend an academy that taught some of the greatest minds in the history of magic, this particular 11-year-old only grew more nervous as the first day of school crept closer. Not a nice kind of nervous, more of a this-school-will-tear-me-apart kind of nervous because even though the world of magic seemed mystical and appealing, it was still often at times socially unkind to people who had been dealt cards that were... less than ideal.

They were weirdly medieval for the 20th century.

Well, when you have to keep hidden from the rather dominating and intuitive muggle world it's bound to be like that. Moira really only knew how great the divide was because of magazines and the occasional walk through London. Which meant that perhaps she really didn't know enough to make a statement on muggles and their societal values. After all, wizards and witches are still hiding from them after years of being hunted and burned for their way of life. So it's hard to believe they've actually gotten far enough.

A tall slender man with an atrociously overgrown mustache and slanted eyes just like Moira's watched her round face for any twitch of a smile or excitement. Nothing. "You know," he sighed, adjusting the periwinkle baseball cap. "Your brother was much more hopeful going into his first year."

It was true. Jacob's eyes lit up when he got his letter. If he were still around, they'd be attending school together. "Well, he messed that up, didn't he?" She muttered bitterly. Her eyes twitched with regret when the silence followed. The dark, solemn expression on her father's face made a guilty swell in her heart. Her small hand lifted up slowly to pinch at the corner of his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Dad. It's just—"

"Don't worry, Mo," he reassured his youngest child. Large, warm hands engulfed hers and she felt something cold drop into her palm. He gave her a gentle, forgiving smile. Sometimes it felt like he was being careful with her. Micah and Jinora Fickle had already lost one child so maybe they were afraid she'd disappear too. His top hand lifted from hers to reveal several galleons and a sickles.

"What are you doing?" Moira inquired and gave Father Fickle a confused smile.

The creases in the corner of the man's eyes deepened. Micah's mustache twitched as he let the hand that was still holding hers seconds ago fall to his side. "I have to run to go pick something up, then I'll meet up with you in front of Gringott's."

"High noon?"

"No, I'd say more midday-ish," the wizard held up three fingers and was very happy to see Moira nod in confirmation. "Go ahead and get some of the items on your list. Try to have some left so we can visit the sweets shop when we're done."

"Erm, alright," she mumbled and closed her hands around the coins. Micah's mustache scratched at her forehead. It hurt and tickled, but the kiss on her forehead was always a quick and sweet transaction between these two.

Micah left her daughter in the trusted hands of Diagon Alley. Moira wasn't afraid to shop by herself, every one knew the alley was safe, but as she passed a few store fronts she became more overwhelmed at the idea of going into all these shops by herself. Normally, she'd be holding her mother's hand walking into Flourish & Blotts, usually they'd be searching for the newest edition of a cooking spells book. Now she was alone.

Her fingers twiddled with the corner of the parchment as she looked through the store windows. Stacks of books seemed to peer right back at her as she tried to gain confidence to go in on her own. Moira hardly heard the tentative steps right by her.

"Are you... okay?"

Caught off-guard, Moira sidestepped away from the voice. The young witch who had asked the question seemed just as taken aback as Moira. "Oh," she exclaimed. Her dark eyebrows curled upwards behind her horned glasses. "I didn't mean to startle you. I'm not very good at... talking to people?"

Moira quickly composed herself and turned to the other kid. The girl looked to be about the same age as her. "No, it's... it's fine," she attempted to soothe the apologizing witch before her. The witch was probably doing school shopping just like her too. Her clothes were gray and pale blue. The cold colors contrasted her warm skin tone, and honestly, really suited her. "I shouldn't have reacted like that I was just—" She didn't want to admit that she was nervous about going into the book store. "— trying to figure out where to start."

"Well," the young witch considered the options momentarily and pointed at the shop right in front of her. "In my personal expertise in list organization and my general carrying of things, you probably shouldn't start at the bookstore."

"Why?"

"Books are sometimes heavy."

"Oh." Now that it was pointed out to her, it seemed pretty apparent. How humbling. "Haha, yeah... You're right."

"As much as it would pain me to go to another store. We should start with something light," she stated with a hand held to her chin. Did she say "we"? Was this witch planning on shopping with Moira? "Oh, I know! Have you got your wand yet?"

"Er, no. I just got here."

"If you walk two shops down, you'll be right next to Olivander's." The black-haired witch pointed behind Moira. She turned to look. It was true it wasn't far. This girl was really helpful.

"Oh, I see. Thanks?"

"No problem! I'm Rowan Khanna by the way." A thin, dark hand held out, anticipating for a handshake to be exchanged.

"Moira—" A beat of silence punctuated her first name as she questioned whether or not she should give her last name, afraid Rowan would recognize her family name and immediately judge her or write her off as being crazy. It was unfair for people to think that of her, of course. It was also unfair for Moira to write her off as someone who'd judge her. "— Fickle."

Moira tried her best to keep her composure as she watched Rowan's eyes for any sign of recognition as she grasped the outstretched hand. There wasn't anything Moira could gleam from Rowan's welcoming expression. Maybe she was a muggleborn and she didn't know anything about the Fickle name?

"I'll go ahead and walk you down to Ollivander's. He's a friend of my family. We actually supply wood for wands and brooms. For generations, actually."

Guess not. Now there was no explanation for Rowan not knowing who she was. Every witch and wizard read the Daily Prophet and so every witch and wizard knew about what happened to the Fickle family last year. Then their children would find out, and... Well, let's just say Moira didn't have many friends anymore.

"Why don't you come with me, Rowan?"

"R-really?" Why was she so stunned? Moira raised an eyebrow, but the corners of her mouth curled upward on their own.

"Uh, yeah?" Moira thought the witch was gonna shop with her anyways. She really needed to stop assuming things. "I mean, shopping is more fun with a friend, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is."

                                                  ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪

 The warm lighting inside the store didn't help the store look clean, but it sure did make a customer feel more at home. The front desk was perhaps the cleanest part of the store despite the many empty boxes, and wrapped packages pushed against the walls. The various stacks of loose parchment perilously teetered at the edge of the desk.

A bell rang to tell the old wand maker to come to the front of his shop, however, when the two young witches arrived they weren't greeted by anyone at all. They looked around the floor as they shuffled in. Books were pushed up against the walls and stacked on various chairs. Dust tickled Moira's nose as she breathed in. A threatening sneeze welled up inside her and exploded from her mouth from behind her elbow. The force was so great she had jumped an inch back. She barely noticed Rowan gasp as an eccentric looking man came from the backroom carrying a stack of wand boxes taller than himself.

"Oh, sir! Let me help," Rowan offered.

"No need! No need!" The tottering tower nearly took a tumble, but that Garrick Ollivander skillfully put a stop to it, for he had a free hand carrying his wand and with a swish and flick every box gracefully went into it's appropriate shelf. Moira wondered if this man had any grandchildren and if he gave them heart attacks like this. Maybe not though. He seemed like he lived for just wands. "See there, Ms. Khanna! Taken care of!"

"Ah, incredible, Mr. Ollivander!" Rowan laughed her panic away and gave a little celebratory clap. The old timer's eyes moved to Moira, who was clapping alongside Rowan unknowingly. As soon as Moira noticed his eyes on her she quickly dropped her hands to her side and nodded. "This is—!"

"Moira Fickle!"

Another nod from Moira. "Y-yes, sir." Merlin's beard, she must look so silly right now. Her owl-eyed expression studied the man just as he studied her. He wore velvet. Which only seemed to collect dust from the store. His gray hair was thinning, but big. Like every adult to an 11-year-old, he was tall. Like cracks in wood, the wrinkles in his face had deepened in the six years that had passed since she had last stood in the wand shop.

Rowan looked back and forth between the two with a smile. "I take it you've met her then?"

"Yes! Six years ago when her brother came to get his wand," Ollivander informed.

"Yes, I can hardly believe you remember that."

"Indeed, I do! I remember every wand I've ever sold. His was maple wood, dragon heartstring core, ten inches. A fine wand. Shame they snapped it in half when he was expelled." His smile faded with hers as he looked down at her, hands folded together in front of him. "I understand that he has been missing since. That must have a profound effect on you."

"Yes, well," Moira mumbled before she could really find her voice. At this point, it was hard to avoid this subject in front of Rowan. "A number of things were felt. I think at first-- I was angry at him for being so stupid and for ruining our family name. For not coming home, but I think I should be more concerned with restoring the Fickle family. I'll become strong so they can be respected."

"I see that you've grown to be quite determined and I can tell you have a lot of fight in you." Ollivander gave a curt nod and walked in between the tall shelves behind the counter. "I believe I have something for you to try, my dear." He returned with two thin, red boxes. Both boxes were opened and glanced over before both wands were placed on the wooden counter in front of both girls. Moira hovered between the two before she reached for the first to be unboxed. It felt promising in her hands, the handle fit perfectly into the curve of her hand.

"Aha!" Rowan gasped. "Hornbeam!"

"Correct, Ms. Khanna! Hornbeam wood, unicorn hair core, eleven and a quarter inches. Inflexible." Ollivander smiled at Rowan before he turned his attention to Moira. She had taken a few steps back from the desk to ready herself. She widened her stance and held the wand out in front of her. Straight faced, she drew a sideways S-shape in the air between her and the wall of books and boxes. Then she flicked the glowing tip away from her face and in a spectacular gush of wind the stack of loose parchment toppled off the edge of the counter. The paper swirled around her in a grand hurricane.

"I believe that's the one." Ollivander spoke with a proud twinkle in his eye. There was a smile splayed on his old, cracked face that was familiar to the young witch. Years ago he gave the same smile to her older brother. She couldn't fight the growing grin on her round face as she twirled against the whirlwind.

The short brown hair on Moira's hair was tousled and harsh looking after the paper brushing it. "It feels like the one," She responded, seemingly blown away by her own wand work. Well, she couldn't really call it that just yet, but her confidence at this very moment? Said differently. The papers fell in an almost perfect circle around the witch. Perhaps she was actually excited about learning magic now— she cleared her throat with a cough, and flattened her hair with her wand hand. No way.

Rowan gave her a round of applause. "No spells, and yet it was a spectacular display, Moira!" She chuckled.

"Thanks." The praise was appreciated, however, the mess around her caused the heat rise from her belly to her face. She rushed out an apology as the river of yellow parchment flew through the again and filed into a pillar once again.

"It's quite alright, Ms. Fickle."

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander."

"I expect to see great things from you in the years to come."

Great could mean many, many things. After all, You-Know-Who did many terrible things and yet many of those things could be considered great. The founders of Hogwarts could also be considered to be great, but their moral alignment varied way more compared to the Death Eaters. Moira hoped, not-so deep down in her heart, that she would be a good kind of great. She prayed that many generations after her would try to be a good kind of great too, the years ahead of Moira had much in store, however.

"I won't disappoint, sir."

                                                     ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪

Their arms felt lighter as soon as they had the chance to sit down on those white steps up to Gringotts. Rowan was very correct about the books being incredibly cumbersome. Moira found the other witch to be correct most of the time, it seemed. She seemed to know an extraordinary amount about... well everything. Especially Hogwarts. Her eyes smiled for everyone and despite what Rowan had told Moira— the one time throughout their time together that the young witch was wrong— she was an excellent conversationalist.

In fact, once Rowan Khanna started talking, it was hard to get her to stop. Listening to her, however, wasn't as unpleasant as one may think. Her excitement was infectious and if you needed a question answered she always elaborated with a big grin. You couldn't help but feel as happy about trees as she did. "Hey, Moira?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you as excited about attending Hogwarts as I am?"

"No," she said with a shake of her head. She only decided to continue with that when she saw how confused her new friend was at her response. "I mean, I wasn't excited. Not until I met you at least."

"Oh."

"Yeah, I suppose having a friend going into that place makes it a little better," she hummed. She found herself, once again, unable to hold back a grin at the sight of Rowan's pleasantly surprised face. "But no. I really don't think anyone could be as excited about school or studying as you."

"Yeah," Rowan let out an airy chuckle, she pushed her glasses up from the sides, nudging them up onto the bridge of her arched nose. It was nice having someone to talk to, someone her age that didn't seem to be judging her for her brother's actions. Although, Rowan really didn't know the full truth. "Are you sure you want to be my friend, Moira?"

"What?" The question caught Moira off-guard. Why was she asking this? "Where did that come from?"

"Well, I know that sometimes I can be a lot—"

"Not to me."

"— And sometimes, I can be a bit weird."

"Well, that's alright. I can be weird too." Moira looked away from Rowan and fell back on the step behind her. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Honestly? I should be asking you that."

"Why? Because you're Jacob Fickle's younger sister?"

"Ah, you know," Moira sighed. It was to be expected. Rowan wasn't daft and she was bound to find out when they got to school.

"I knew as soon as you told me your name," Rowan said calmly. "Your brother's the very same Jacob Fickle that went missing after breaking several school rules and getting himself expelled."

"Yeah."

"The Prophet said he went mad looking for the Cursed Vaults."

"Yeah," Moira breathed out. Her leg was bouncing nervously. "Why didn't you say anything about it?"

"Well, I didn't really care— I mean, you're not your brother." Rowan didn't know it, but those words were blessed to Moira's ears. Another kid knew about her brother and didn't think she was crazy too. Someone didn't shun her or pity her. Moira smiled at Rowan who simply smiled back. "We can be weird together."

There was a comfortable stroke of silence as both the girls looked away from each other and towards the length of Diagon Alley. When you were done with all that chaos below the bank, people watching really seemed like the perfect pastime. "It won't be easy— Being my friend I mean. The other students might not be as understanding as you and will, surely, waste no time to pick on me."

"I got it. What do you want me to do in those situations?"

"I dunno. Follow my lead, I suppose."

"Understood. I'll use my extensive vocabulary to verbally pummel anyone who attempts to besmirch your reputation."

Moira laughed, "Alright!"

[project-prose]

14_Exciting times

I wish I could outsource this prompt to my friend Rose, who runs a book-review Instagram packed with the juiciest commentaries. But alas, I am the one who has taken up this 30-day writing challenge. I will instead be writing about a book I was introduced to by her, titled Exciting Times by Naoise Dolan.

Exciting Times follows Irish narrator Ava as she weaves her way through the congested streets of Hong Kong as well as the complex relationship dynamics she develops with two contrasting characters of Hong Kong’s corporate realm. Ava is just as clueless about social interactions as she is about her direction in life, spending away the days teaching English to kindergarteners without really knowing why or how. 

She first encounters Julian, a young British banker (Hong Kong staple) whom she develops an almost transactional relationship with. They are compatible sexually, but romantically and economically they are miles apart. Ava questions herself while being with Julian, but at the same time feels their dynamic to be completely natural. 

Enter Edith, who is a much more interesting personality that is also much better at communicating with Ava. Despite working in corporate law and thus qualifying as much as an ‘elite’ as Julian, Edith comes off as more down-to-earth and intriguing to Ava. They instantly form an unspoken attachment for each other, which places Ava in a conundrum about her own feelings and the two relationships. 

Honestly, I couldn’t bring myself to warm up to Ava throughout the whole novel because she comes off as desensitized and somewhat selfish (she is technically dabbling in two relationships at once). But her deadpan tone and the sharp commentary on capitalism, neo-colonialism and racism is nuanced and very well executed. The author doesn’t force any hefty ideals onto the reader with this story. In fact, she’s giving us a peep at the complex inner workings of a 20-something year old just trying to figure out her life. I resonated with this aspect of the novel, and it reminded me of my own concerns while floating through adulthood. 

Moreover, I resonated a lot with the nuggets of writing describing Hong Kong life. The weirdly insular community of expats, the dim sum dates and the other-worldly atmosphere created by skyscrapers packed next to one another...all of these details brought back vivid memories of the time I’d spent there. I hadn’t really grasped how much Hong Kong had affected me, but Exciting Times was an unexpected reminder of all the carefree times I had had engulfed in the country’s culture. 

Read more about Exciting Times on Rose’s book-review Instagram here. 

[idealisticrealism]

Blindspot 3x04 recap

Aka ‘You probably should have just watched 3x03 again, Laura’

Okay, clearly I don’t do well with deadlines. Despite having 2 weeks to do it, I’m still doing this last minute, so it’s gonna be a fairly short one. Not to mention that this wasn’t exactly my favourite episode, so I may have fewer thoughts about it than others... but there’s definitely a few thoughts I do wanna share, so here goes. 

At first I thought that little girl was Alice but then realised all the many reasons why that made no sense. Instead we get introduced to a bomber guy who is clearly gonna be relevant to the ep despite just seemingly blowing himself up...

Oooh Jane came out with the truth about Roman calling her. Nice, honey. I’m proud of your openness. I wonder if Weller noticed she was acting weird last night, since it’s morning now? Also dude she gave him yet another perfect opening to tell her about Berlin and he didn’t take it!!!! Literally no matter what happened in Berlin, his staying silent about it is bad enough in itself. Dude you are setting yourself up for a big fall here!

Naww I love that Zapata is always checking in on Patterson. Ugh, these sisters. And instead of forcing her to take a break, like all the others would have tried to do, she just asks how she can help. I just love these two. I love that Zapata helps her see things from a different angle and gives her a plan to follow. Poor Patterson is so determined to make it up to Stuart and she needs all the help she can get

God I love Hirst’s accent. But dude what is happening with this scene. How have she and Reade been on such close terms that they had a bet that involved potentially shaving her head?? That’s the kind of thing you agree on whilst drunk. Have these two gotten drunk together?? What is going on. Also she legit takes the ugly jumper thing and agrees to wear it to a meeting?? At work, at the FBI?? With executive people?? That just feels very unlikely. Also dude she basically just said ‘hey Reade if you’ve done any shady shit make sure it’s buried deep because we’re gonna have people looking into us’. Wow.

Anyway my lil genius has cracked a tatt, which relates to the bomber guy we just saw before. Lol the guy’s ex wife nailed him by recognising his handwriting and tipping off the cops. You go, girl. Now though Patterson’s smarts they’ve found a van in some particular car park in Brooklyn, and lol Weller’s doing the bombsquad thing for some unknown reason. All that’s in the van is a letter though-- to the bomber’s daughter, from the bomber. He’s not really dead. Dun dun dunnnnnnn (lol get it bc his last name is Dunn haha)

Oh boy we’re actually seeing the wedding video. I don’t know whether to roll my eyes or melt into a puddle, but tbh I’m a little more leaning towards the eye rolling. I like that Zapata and Reade are doing theirs together, because I imagine they were both like ‘you go first, no you go  first, no you go I don’t know what to say’ so they just went in together. And lol ‘what do you even do in Colorado’ (right tho??) and ugh they’re so looking forward to being part of Jeller’s future and Reade even tells them he loves them (sidenote I like his earrings) and they say ‘don’t screw this up’ which kinda just hurts to hear because man did they screw it up real bad. Also Patterson ‘videobombing’ is the best lol. But I wanna know what happens in between the cuts! Where’s the director’s cut of this vid? haha

Lol Zapata giving Weller shit about the bombsquad thing (right tho????) and then also giving Jane shit, saying that she was surprised she didn’t squeeze into the suit and go with him. Ugh Zapata is so great this season already, can she just be like this forever? I’m still confused about Hirst’s ugly sweater sitch and why this is even being included. Is it to show her bond with Reade/the team? To show she’s a good sport?? Why Gero what are you trying to sayyy. Also they found the bomber’s daughter (who has had some trouble with the law herself) and they’re gonna bring her in to try find the bomber or whatever

Roman is looking dapper and heads into some fancy event as his new Tom persona. And then he meets Blake, the gorgeous hostess of the event, and who was also another former ‘LA Complex’ character-- fun fact she played the long-lost sister of Jonathan Patrick Moore’s character, so technically her and Roman’s siblings kind of dated. Ish. But ugh he’s being all cute and charming and weirdly Australian and she’s clearly liking it. She has such a great smile, it lights up her whole face. Aaaand the moment she walks away he’s off doing something sneaky, bc of course he is.

The bomber’s daughter is being recalcitrant, naturally. Goes with the territory. Weller and Reade are interrogating together which is nice, I like my good boys playing together. Glad to see Weller isn’t being such a butt. Anyway turns out her dad doesn’t drop the letters himself but has someone do it for him, and there’s an emergency signal for if she needs help. So they go to the park and they’re so cute all loitering about ‘undercover’. And I like that Jane can tell from across the park that Weller isn’t happy with the situation. Naww, so married.  Based on Weller’s gut they all move out, looking for the drop guy. Of course it’s Jane that spots him-- and does he spot the daughter, or Jane?? I can’t tell which he’s looking at. She loses him momentarily and then next thing he’s got a gun on her-- only he recognises her, his tone surprised but not hostile when he says ‘Remi?’ So they knew each other in the Sandstorm days?? He’s definitely not pleased to see her working with the cops though…

Oh boy. Now Weller is on the wedding vid and okay it’s pretty damn cute. And ugh he said the thing about her being his starting point AND end point and ughhh how many of us included a line like that in our fics?? But ugh he loves her so muuuch and he’s so emotional and amazed and happy to be marrying her ugh

Okay after that brief interlude we’re back to the suspect guy. What has this guy been in? I recognise him. And he seems to actually like Remi/Jane, which is why I think she is able to get the jump on him. I always love Jane being a badass. I wanna know what happens right after this tho-- like does she radio/call the team and be like ‘hey guys come to the house across the street I’ve incapacitated our suspect’ and Weller is all like ‘are you okay?????’ while the Reade is hoping that she managed to do it without drawing attention or injuring him too badly, and Zapata’s just miffed bc she didn’t get to kick any butt lol. Back at the lab Patterson fills them in-- he’s a dude that’s wanted in like seven countries for “like, all of the crimes” hahahaha. I love the way she said that. Zapata’s kinda impressed with him since according to the CIA he’s the go-to guy for forged documents. Then Reade sends Jeller in to do the interrogation and tbh I’m kinda getting used to Reade giving the orders. It’s pretty much like hearing Weller’s voice come out of his mouth lol. And then aw their suspect is kinda sad that Jane doesn’t remember him, bc he was like an uncle to her? And then omg he says “that summer, in Kalispell, up on Flathead lake” and dude I was literally just there in July??? My friend has friends like an hour from Kalispell and we all went rafting together at Flathead. Yayyy Montana. I love when slightly more obscure places I’ve been get mentioned haha. Jane tries to get him back on track and he just keeps reminiscing. Clearly he knew them when they were pretty young-- he says he did her adoption, so however old they were when Shepherd took them in I guess? Sounds like he wasn’t a huge fan of Shepherd tho which I approve of haha. Too bad he won’t tell them anything about the bomber guy.

Again Patterson and Zapata are having one of their little vibing moments and they realise the suspect must have had a ‘go bag’ somewhere. And Zapata being the kickass FBI and CIA trained badass that she is, realises that it’s hidden in the seat of his car. Lol she even uses the CIA lingo. And then omg Patterson just whips out a butterfly knife from her pocket?? Lord that is so damn cool. I wish I could be cool like her and carry one of those around but alas carrying knives is illegal in my country. Ugh then they find his stuff and high five over it and I just love them so much

Hirst is arguing with some bigwig guy who wants to take away their suspect bc of his other crimes and ugh I could listen to her talk all day. I’m proud of her for saying ‘you all’ and not ‘y’all’ to him haha. Lol Weller tries to tell the dude he can’t take them and errrr Weller I think he’s a little above you on the foodchain, buddy. Anyway Patterson calls them into the lab-- they stuff they found includes a coded ‘black book’ of his transactions. I love that she calls Zapata ‘00Z’ haha. And then they figure out from the cypher thing that the bomber is in Ithaca, bc Patterson is a genius, of course

Uh oh. They’ve arrived at the place in Ithaca and the local fuzz are all over it instead of keeping the perimeter-- they apparently found a bomb which has also supposedly already been disarmed. Well that was quick. Also omg the guy calls Tasha darling and her face is all ‘bitch please’ and Weller shoots her a look like ‘please don’t kill him, please don’t kill him’ lol. And Reade puts a hand out to settle her lol. They get in and it’s a pretty basic bomb, then as the dudes go to lift it Weller realises it’s a decoy and yells for everyone to get out--  and good thing it’s a room with a lot of exits bc Weller and the main cop go through one, Zapata pushes another cop through another, and Reade and Jane go through another. Not sure about the last cop, but he’s probably fine bc ~magic~

Oh now it’s Jane’s turn for the vid. And omg she immediately makes a sex/dirtytalk joke??? Wow girl, you’re really opening up, aren’t you? But ugh she never thought she would have this and she’s so emotional about it and she’s like halfway through a sentence when Weller walks in?? And I know this should be adorable and all but I’m kinda mad about it? Like he already had his chance to share everything he felt without being interrupted, but now whatever she was gonna say is lost bc he felt that he was entitled to butt in?? And then she jokes that he thought she’d run away and he said he’d never let that happen bc he’d ‘never let her out of his sight’ which tbh I do not like??? Firstly it hurts bc she DOES leave, but also it feels kinda weird and possessive and like a ‘you will never be free of me’ kinda thing? Feels more stifling than romantic. But whatevs just gonna let that one slide right on past

Back at the bomb house, Weller is immediately searching for Jane, and belatedly remembering to check on everyone else haha. Zapata emerges, lookin kinda fine with all those soot stains, then a cop stumbles past  and Reade stands up. Assuming the other cop who was saved by Zapata gets out fine, then that just leaves Jane. Who is unmoving on the floor, and ugh Weller’s voice gets all small and wobbly and he’s all ‘no, no’ and goddammit writers can you not? Then she miraculously regains consciousness under his touch and he cups her face in his hands as she tells him she’s okay and then he hugs her to his chest and nope I do not need this in my life please stop

Why do these guys all look so great covered in dirt and soot?? They’re back to the NYO with the news that their bomber guy has a bunch of bomb stuff (surprise!) and is likely planning an attack. They split up and Weller finds Jane in the locker room icing her bruised ribs, and he knows right away that it’s not the injury that’s bothering her-- it’s Roman. Nice hubby senses, Weller. Ooh interesting she says that she doesn't care  about her past bc she finds nothing but pain in it, which makes me feel like this Rossi guy is going to reveal something big and kinda positive to her about her past. And then ugh she says that right now, them, is what she cares about and ughhhh why they gotta be so cute? Tho again I take issue with Weller-- this time with calling her perfect. Jane knows she’s not perfect, so why not say that he loves her as she is, imperfections and all? But whatevs. He promises her a lifetime full of perfect moments though and okay that’s pretty sweet with the heart eyes and the hand kissing and ugh he loves her so much and yet he’s STILL lying about Berlin and I haaaaate it

Oooh we’re back at Roman’s charity event. And ugh Blake is so cute and she’s a good auctioneer and she auctions off a little bracelet and she clearly knows the little girl who made it quite well, and cared about her particularly, I think? And her jokes are so sweet and I love that she gets them to start bidding and then bam here’s ‘Tom’ with a $20,000 bid and says that he ‘likes wishes’ so cutely and omg the way she’s looking at him rn is just so-- Oh no I ship it. Why do I ship this I mean it’s like a terrible idea but wow I do. Oh noooooooooo

Patterson called Zapata to the lab even though their tests re the bomber are still ‘marinating’, because she wants to talk to her about Operation Cuttlefish (aka their investigation into Stuart’s murder) and lol she tries to give a nerdy explanation of cuttlefish’s camouflage ability but Zapata is like ‘good lord just show me’ lol. Turns out a bunch of things have been meddled with and now they both wonder whether there could be another leak in their taskforce. Man, this office is leakier than a damn sieve….

What, Hirst even made a video entry? Really? Ok, I guess. I do love listening to her talk. And lol she says ‘y’all’ this time. Patterson again videobombs with shots and also to inform everyone that she met a guy named Jonathan Walker Blue and that they’re in love and I was literally about to make a comment about how that’s a weird name and that I wanted to hear more about this guy, when I suddenly realised that I’m an idiot and she was referring to Johnnie Walker Blue. The whiskey. Lord that went right over my head the first time haha. Then Hirst goes on to say that they’re an amazing team and even though they’re gonna have hard times, they’ll lean on each other. “To the good times and the bad, may love rule mightily over both” and lbr that’s totally gonna be a theme for the season (and the show as a whole) isn’t it

So they’ve discovered that the bomber is planning to bomb a university in the city within the next hour, and while they were about to waste a lot of time evacuating all the campuses, Patterson discovers that the colours on the materials that the bomber had on his workbench were the same as the colours for the metro university so he must have been making an ID badge for there, giving them their target. And lol Weller is giving all the orders and then is just like ‘okay you heard the boss’ (meaning Reade) and it’s like well I think we all know who is really running the show here…

Aaaaahhh Blake comes to deliver the bracelet personally to Tom bc she has the epic hots for him and omg THIS FLIRTING IS SO FREAKIN SMOOTH I CAN’T. And then she gets all earnest and is trying to ~understand~ him (because she liiiiiiiiiikes him) and ugh they move in closer and there’s more flirting and then he tells her about Tom’s backstory of fighting in Afghanistan and inheriting money from a friend who died and wanting to use it for a good cause and oh god she’s falling like a rock for him and I DIG IT. FOR STUPID MASOCHISTIC REASONS. Seriously gimme more of this, Gero. (Ship name: Take?? Blam?? lol). And then ugh he asks her how the wish bracelet works and then when she explains he ties it on HER wrist and tells her she deserves the wish more than he does and I’m????? So into this???? Which is ridiculous bc it’s all a total lie but damn it’s just so cute and she’s basically swooning and then she offers to buy him a drink and they joke about the open bar and ughhhhhhhhh why. Why must I want this. And then he says he can’t because (sadly) he has a plane to catch and ughhh I’m bummed about it. But then again, the old ‘leave em wanting more’ thing does have merit, so maybe we’ll see…. Oh aaaaand he’s tracking her with a GPS he planted in the bracelet bc the whole thing was a ruse. Of course. Dammit, Roman, why you gotta crush all my dreams

Back at the lab, Patterson realises that Roman gave them the clue to crack the bomber’s manifesto, because all the older manifestos use the same code. Also literally how was anyone meant to crack that code without that very random and specific picture?? But eh. So now they know that the bomb is under the medical building at the university and man that’s just mean. You know how hard it is to evacuate a hospital??? That crap takes forever. But anyway damn Zapata and Reade are looking like a really badass team rn. Zapata gets slammed into the wall by the bomber guy (rude) but Reade shoots him just before he can shoot her. Phew. Unfortunately now this means that Jane and Weller are disarming the bomb on their own….

Lol it’s finally time for drunk!Patterson to get to have her say on the video, and of course she mentions D&D. Apparently Jane is an elf paladin and Weller is a dwarf monk. What’s the bet that Ashley herself chose those characters?  I kinda wanna look up their abilities and characteristics now. And ugh she just loves them and believes they can do anything and she’s just the sweetestttttt

And now Jeller have 80 seconds to disarm the bomb, which has an anti tamper device which requires them to work as a perfect team in order not to set it off haha. Symbolism, symbolism everywhere. Also lol Weller, saying ‘steady’ over and over doesn’t really help buddy. And then they pull each of their wires (as advised by Patterson, bc no one would get through anything without her) at the exact same time, staring at each other as the timer hits zero. Sidenote but anyone here used to watch Castle?? Can’t help but  think of the scene in S3 where Caskett hold hands in front of the bomb and then Castle disarms it by yanking out all the wires. Anyway, different OTP, different time. Then Jane is giving Weller a look and tells him that disarming the bomb with him was kinda hot and he pulls her into his arms and lol they’re getting off on this and Patterson is like ‘Mom! Dad! Stop, I can hear you!’ hahaha. But they don’t care bc they’re already making out haha.

Ooooh the fancy schmancy dude from the other organisation is back to tell them that Rossi escaped from his custody, which they’re all pissed at him for, bc now they have to help fix his screw up. But I only care about Patterson not-very-subtly pulling Zapata away from the bullpen mouthing ‘CUTTLEFISH’ lol. And lolll Zapata's like ‘god I’m the only adult in this place’ haha. Patterson has discovered that the anonymous tip from their last case (the one from Karen about the train crash, I assume, not Rich’s sneaky fake tip lol) was wrongfully marked as low priority on the database-- so someone in the FBI is doing this tampering? Idk I don’t think I’m following along very well lol

Ugh I’m actually mad at Weller for fast forwarding through Patterson’s message on their wedding video??? Like clearly he’s watched it before (probably many times, whilst drunk, and always laughing bitterly at the part where he tells her he won’t let her out of his sight, and ouch I made myself sad) but Jane clearly hasn’t seen it since she asks how long it goes on for. And then they basically ignore the rest of what Patterson’s saying anyway in favour of having a little chit chat. Sigh so rude. It is cute though how Jane is teasing Weller about not ever saying lovely things like in the video. And dude clearly I am wired a little bit oddly but for the split second when he moved fast I almost thought he was going to hit her, which makes no sense at all and once that tiny fraction of a second passed I was like ‘aww he’s playing around with her and being cute and silly, how adorable’ and then I’m sure he was gonna say some more sweet things and then demand apology kisses, but instead suddenly there’s Roman on the screen. And mmmmmm isn’t it symbolic that the two of them, having been all tangled up in each other, suddenly separate when Roman appears?? I see what you did there, Gero. But okay I literally cannot get over Roman’s little decorating effort. Like I know this is supposed to be a grim moment but I am almost wheezing over his lil fairy lights and flowers and handwritten sign?? He could have just appeared in front of a blank wall but nope he is just that Extra. I love him.  Not cool of him to tell Jane she’s broken and tell Weller that their relationship is built on lies, though. But omg he literally toasts them with what I assume is champagne and lol this is hilarious. Err, I mean, it’s terrible, sorry Jeller….

Oooh Zapata wants to hang with Reade for drinks but he tells her he’s already home-- only for her to see him a moment later with fancy schmancy dude from before, and immediately gets all suspicious. My head says we’re supposed to suspect there’s dirty dealings going on but my heart says ‘gay love affair’. Though lbr there could be some dirty dealings involved in that, too lol

A mysterious envelope has been slipped under the Jeller's door. And Jane, seasoned FBI consultant and ninja warrior, just goes right ahead and picks it up with her bare hands. Really? No thought for fingerprints or anthrax or anything? Fine, whatevs. But hold up, it’s from Rossi, about some secret that he thinks she deserves to know.  Weller comes over just as she pulls out some birth records-- and BAM, turns out Rossi organised the adoption not of Remi and Roman, but of Remi’s daughter, 18 years ago. Ohhhhhhh boy. I feel like Gero is actually literally Oprah rn-- you get a daughter! And YOU get a daughter! Daughters for everybody!!!! And as legitimately terrible as this plot decision is, I hate it somewhat less given that Weller’s spawn also exists. I mean, at least instead of just one of them having a child outside the relationship, then now both do, which balances things out a bit? I literally can’t believe I even am in the situation of having to write that sentence but this is where we are now. This is what you did to me, Gero. Ugh.

Well. Interested to see tonight’s ep. Here’s some spoilers you might not have caught yet: Reade’s estranged twin, Duane, comes demanding that Reade donate him his kidney or he’ll die; Zapata falls into a brief coma after a rollerblading accident and awakens only able to speak German; Patterson turns out to be a chihuahua piloting a very convincing android; and Hirst admits that she is actually Canadian and not from the South at all, eh. Can’t wait!

[goldenheadfreckledheart]

There's A Nap For That

Based on this post: “If you both agree to take a nap instead of going out, it’s a date.” 

Or: The one where Bellamy and Clarke keep taking naps together. You know, platonically. See also: Let Them Rest

A/N: I started this before New Years and thought it would be done in like, three days. Oh how naive. But hey, here we are!

WC: ~6.5k Read on AO3

Clarke doesn’t plan to be alone on New Year’s Eve, but she also doesn’t plan not to be alone--if that makes sense. She could fly back to Los Angeles and attend her mother’s extravagant corporate party, if she wanted to put herself through that. It’s definitely an option.

But she’s long since decided that it’s better to deal with the vague feelings of missing out on the New Year’s celebration over fielding questions about why she’s not following in her mother’s footsteps or, god forbid, whether she’s gotten over “that whole sexuality thing” yet.

So she calls Abby the night before the party, fulfills her yearly, good-daughter quota of well wishes and pleasantries, and calls it good.

And really, doing nothing on New Year’s Eve is kind of the best thing that’s happened her, stress-wise, in the last six months.

She works in the graphic design department for an uber-trendy website that facilitates commissions for freelance artists, which makes it an incredibly lucrative avenue to get her name out there in the industry. It just also happens that the company is very concerned with staying up-to-date with aesthetic trends, and has her changing logos and web layouts on a weekly basis.

It’s the kind of somewhat crappy, over demanding job that she feels weirdly excited to have, because it means her mom isn’t paying people to make her life easier.

But it has been running her to the bone, so she’s positively delighted to do absolutely nothing for a night.

Or she is until she finds out that Bellamy also doesn’t have plans for New Year’s Eve.

“…but Bell’s gonna be around to take care of Athena, so that’s nice,” Octavia is saying, socked feet propped on Clarke’s lap, stroking the aforementioned cat curled at her side.

After spending Christmas with her brother, Clarke’s ex-roommate and her boyfriend, Lincoln, are heading out to his family for New Year’s. Clarke had been about to offer to watch Octavia’s cat for the duration of the trip, and the news that her brother will be around to do it piques her interest.

“Bellamy’s going to be here for New Year’s?”

Octavia rolls her eyes knowingly. “Yeah, he is. But don’t worry, I’m not gonna force you two to hang out. Learned my lesson on that one.”

“No, I was just going to say… It wouldn’t be terrible to get dinner or something, since we’re both here. Not,” she hurries to correct, when she sees Octavia’s eyes widen, “like a date. More like a ‘we’re the only part of our friend group that’s around, so we might as well hang out’ thing.”

Octavia pushes out a breath with an expression that doesn’t quite look convinced, but she relents. “Fair enough. I’m just happy you’re finally admitting that you don’t hate each other.”

“I never hated him,” Clarke grumbles, under her breath. Octavia just laughs.

“I hear you’re spending New Year’s Eve alone,” Clarke says, dropping down on the couch next to Bellamy, at their group’s annual belated-Christmas get-together.

He stiffens beside her. “What of it?”

She smiles a little, an attempt at reassurance. It’s fair to say that this differs from their normal pattern of interaction, mostly in that it doesn’t involve shouting. “Nothing. I’ll be here too. I figured we could do something together.”

He looks surprised at the offer, which, okay—it’s not like they’ve ever been the people in their group to seek out one-on-one time. But she really doesn’t think that they ever hated each other. They just had a hard time getting past a bad first meeting. Their conversations consisted mostly of biting comments or stupid arguments, but refusing to call him her friend had been more a pride thing than anything else.

Because, really, there is no downside to being friends with Bellamy Blake. He’s more of a mother hen than anyone else she’s ever met, and also just really fucking smart. She could talk to him for hours—she’s definitely argued with him for that long—and it’s a toss-up between which she enjoys more.

So while he and Octavia might be surprised by her idea that they spend the holiday together… she just has a good feeling about it. They could be really good at this friends thing, she’s sure.

“Unless you like being the sad person who deliberately chooses to be alone on New Year’s,” she prods with a sharp grin. Never mind that it’s what she’d been planning on, three days ago.

He rolls his eyes halfheartedly, reaches over to steal her wine glass and take a swig. “I’m not a sad person.”

She retrieves the glass with a scowl, elbows him in the side for good measure. “Then I guess we both have plans now.”

He grins, and it definitely doesn’t make her heart beat faster. “I guess we do.”

They exchange gifts with the rest of the group later, and Bellamy gives her a stupidly nice set of paints. The ones she’s been wanting. She has to resist bowling him over with a hug.

They’re definitely friends.

He opens her present later: a couple (much less expensive) biographies that he’s been rambling about for months but refuses to buy for himself, and a sketch of him and Octavia, copied from the photograph that sits on his sister’s windowsill that Clarke knows is his favorite.

He just stares for a second, and she can’t hide her smile. Leaving Bellamy Blake without words might be her new favorite thing. But before she can even tease him about it, he’s got an arm around her waist, pulling her to his side with a gruff, “Thanks, Clarke.”

She snakes out an arm to give him a quick squeeze back, and leaves it there when he doesn’t move his from her back. She even leans her head on her shoulder for a second, because why the fuck not? They’re friends, and it’s Christmas. Excess affection is acceptable. Encouraged, even.

She doesn’t step away until Miller catches her eye with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“I’m gonna grab some water,” she tells Bellamy, and makes sure to flip off Miller on the way to the kitchen.

Clarke has to go back to work for the few days before New Year’s, because apparently it’s the time of year that the company makes the most transactions, and god forbid the website doesn’t have digital snowflakes slowly drifting down the screen (“Think of how many customers we’d lose without the snowflakes,” her coworker, Roan, deadpans to her after the 4th hour of the project.)

So she nearly forgets about her plans with Bellamy until he texts her the day before.

 Bellamy:

so how formal are these plans I’m being coerced into?

do I need to dress up

 She smiles down at her phone.

 Clarke:

again, you’re welcome for saving you from your sad life

but no, don’t dress up

come over at 5 and we’ll figure out what we’re doing?

Bellamy:

thanks for your concern

5 works, see you then

have fun at work

Clarke:

do my best

 Unsurprisingly, her boss has her working on last minute edits at home on New Year’s Eve. She’s only just finished up and collapsed on the couch with some tea when Bellamy knocks at the door.

His first words to her, once she drags herself to the door, are, “You look exhausted.”

“Aren’t you charming,” she responds, waving him inside and heading back to the couch.

“Sorry,” he says, dropping down beside her. When she meets his eyes, he looks concerned.

“I can feel you mothering. Stop that.”

He grunts in offense. “I am not mothering.”

“Great,” she says. “Then where do you want to go for dinner?”

“Dunno,” he sighs. “Somewhere casual that won’t be crowded tonight.”

She musters a smile. “Where we don’t have to see like, five couples propose on New Year’s Eve?”

He huffs a laugh. “Exactly.”

“There’s a pretty good variety of restaurants at the strip-mall down the street. You wanna Yelp it?”

“Sure,” he says, pulling out his phone.

Clarke flips mindlessly through her recorded shows while he does that, settles on one of the intense baking competitions that never fail to put her to sleep.

It’s so… companionable. She keeps thinking about how they’ve never done this before, and how remarkably easy it is.

Eventually she switches channels, when one of the judges’ needlessly disparaging remarks get on her nerves.

“Hey, what gives?” Bellamy says, from beside her.

“One of the judges reminded me of my boss,” she says on a yawn. “And, hey, you’re not supposed to be paying attention anyway. Did you decide where we’re eating?”

“What’s wrong with your boss?” he asks. She’s not sure if he’s ignoring her question, or if he legitimately didn’t process it.

“Nothing different from normal boss stuff.”

The look he gives her says she’s not convincing. Which—she’s didn’t even know he could tell when she’s smoothing things over. It’s kind of a lot.

“They had you working today, didn’t they?”

When she only responds with a dismissive shrug, he prompts, “You want to talk about it?”

“Weren’t we going to eat?” she asks, pushing up from the couch to dump out her now-cold tea.

It comes off much more overly-dismissive than she intends. Because… it’s not that she doesn’t want to talk about it, but, it’s New Year’s, they’re supposed to be doing typical New Year’s things, right? Celebrating, not complaining.

“I’m not hungry yet,” he calls, so she can hear him from the kitchen. “Just… complain to me about your job and then we’ll go get food.”

It’s really not the worst offer she’s ever received. She’s just kind of surprised to get it from him.

She comes back from the kitchen. “You really want to know?”

“Pretty sure people who get together on New Year’s Eve actually talk about their lives.”

“You don’t know that. I’m sure lots of people just stare at baking shows and enjoy the respite from their,” she waves a hand, “you know, troubles.”

“So you do have troubles, then.”

She levels him a look. “You’re going to be so bored when I tell you about them. They’re so first-world, Bellamy,” she exaggerates on an eye roll.

His response is surprisingly serious. “Then that’s on me. I asked.”

It’s certainly not something she would have expected from him when they’d first met. When accusations of ignorant privilege and willful pessimism were tossed back and forth in nearly every conversation.

“It’s really not that bad,” she starts, flopping down next to him. And then, when he gestures that she get on with it, she relents. “Fine.”

As much as she failed at making it seem that way, she really doesn’t think of it as a big deal. Her boss over-works her, but the final product is always good, even if it’s just animated snowflakes. And yeah, her vacation time isn’t great, but she’s young, and it’s a job that will get her places, build a foundation for her career. Doing a little extra work now to ensure that won’t hurt.

It does look like it hurts Bellamy a little, though, judging from the way he winces at the mention of her pitifully few vacation days.

They must talk about it for a good forty-five minutes, and she finds herself, miraculously, actually feeling a lot better about it.

He asks about her co-workers, who she actually does genuinely like, and she tells him about the project she’s been put in charge of in the coming year. Her boss has, debatably, given her too much responsibility, but it’s still more of a plus than a minus.

By the time the conversation peters out, Clarke is mostly horizontal on the couch, feet on Bellamy’s lap without any tangible memory of how they got there.

“Jesus, it’s really running you down, isn’t it?”

“Mmhmm,” she manages around a yawn. “I’ll get up in a second though, promise. We need to eat.”

“Nah,” he says, “We’re not going out.”

She startles a little, but not enough to actually sit up.

“What? Yes we are,” she says to the ceiling. “That’s the whole point of tonight. We’re not sad people, Bellamy.”

“Have you ever considered that your persistent need to emphasize your lack of sadness is kind of… counterproductive?”

“Fuck off.”

He just grins at her. Which is rude.

“We’re not going out,” he says, a little more gruff this time. “You need to get some rest. We can eat something here, or I can run out and get us something.”

“You don’t have to—”

“People who aren’t sad don’t refuse help from their friends, Clarke.”

“I thought you said that was a counterproductive goal,” she tosses back drily.

“Jesus, good to know your wit still works when you’re half asleep.”

She smiles smugly into a pillow. “I’m great at multitasking.”

“Clearly. You want Thai?”

She considers arguing again, but she is pretty tired, and Thai does sound pretty good. She’s still not spending New Year’s Eve alone. That’s something.

“Yeah, Thai is good. Thanks Bellamy.”

“You’re welcome.”

She’s half asleep by the time he comes back with food, but she musters enough strength to help him spread it across her coffee table, and then dig in.

She puts on another cooking show when they’re done, but her eyes are drooping before the first five minutes are done.

“Go to sleep, Clarke,” Bellamy says, when she jerks back upright for the third time.

Too tired to argue, she just leans back against the armrest with a halfhearted, “Wake me up when it’s time for the ball drop.”

When she groggily comes to, the TV is still on, tuned to some news station with the volume turned low.

She nearly forgets why she’s on the couch until she turns to see Bellamy’s sleeping form across the couch from her, his legs dangling off the couch where they would have come in contact with hers.

Mother hen, she thinks.

The clock on the DVD player reads 3:21 AM, which means… she can’t think of what it means, for a second.

It’s only after staring absently at the TV, where anchors are talking about the first baby of the New Year, that she realizes they missed it.

It doesn’t bother her much, she finds.

She unfolds herself from the couch carefully, to go sleep in a real bed, and considers waking Bellamy, to send him home to his. But when she looks at him again, there’s some sort of pang in her chest at the sight of how peaceful he looks. It’s late now, anyway, she justifies. Better and safer for him to sleep here.

She gathers the throw from the end of the couch to drape over him, and nearly reaches down to pull his feet up onto the couch. She pauses before she does, though, at the thought that doing so might wake him up.

There’s something about having to talk to him when he wakes that scares her, and she isn’t eager to explore what it is at this time of night, foggy and sleepy as she is, so she leaves him there, and tries to convince herself it’s not as uncomfortable as it looks.

As she crawls into her bed, she idly muses that she didn’t kiss anyone, this New Year’s Eve. But it was still a pretty good night, all things considered.

The second time it happens is less premeditated than the first. Not that—she didn’t plan to fall asleep on him the first time, but at least they’d been planning to hang out.

He calls her a week into the new year, on a Saturday morning, and it shouldn’t be monumental in any way, but she hasn’t seen him in a week and… fuck, she misses him.

“Hello?”

“Hey Clarke,” his voice comes, a little distorted and awkward over the phone. Though the latter probably doesn’t have to do with the call quality. “It’s, uh, Bellamy.”

“Yeah,” she laughs. “I know. Caller ID is a thing.”

“Shut up,” he says, much more familiar than he’d been a second before. She can almost see his brows narrowing in playful annoyance. But then, just as quick, he’s back to awkward formality.

“I was, um – I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor.”

She straightens up in her kitchen chair. “What’s wrong?”

He gives a short laugh on the other end of the line. “And you say that I’m the mother hen.”

Clarke just rolls her eyes, and doesn’t bother responding.

“Alright so,” he starts after a moment, before rushing through the next words. “Feel free to say no, but my apartments is flooded, and I – I’m trying to find a place to stay while they fix it.”

Before he’s finished, she’s barreling over his words, fingers clutching anxiously at her knee. “Flooded? How bad is it? Is your stuff alright? Do you have to pay for it?”

He works so hard, enough that she’d always known it, even when they weren’t friends. Because it wasn’t rare that Octavia would complain about how annoying he was when he was stressed and overworked. He’s halfway to a PhD, so it’s hard to imagine that anything has changed. She hates to think about him dealing with all this too.

There’s humor in his voice when he answers, “It’s not that bad, but it is the bathroom next to my room, and the plumber says it’s probably better for me not to be there.”

“Do you have to pay for it?” she asks again.

“Nah, it’s just old plumbing, so it’s not my fault or anything. The landlady’s covering it.”

She breathes a sigh of relief. Then another thought strikes her. “Wait, where are you going to stay while they fix it?”

The noise he makes on the other end sounds like a laugh.

“That would be why I’m calling you.”

It takes her a second to process, to realize that that was the first thing he’d mentioned, before she got swept up in the anxiety. To realize that he’s probably not just calling to catch her up on unpleasant developments in his life.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, and the humor has left his voice when he speaks again.

“It’s just, uh, that Miller and Monty don’t have a ton of space, so I’d feel bad asking them. And Raven’s roommates might actually be insane, though I could ask them. But I thought maybe I could crash on your couch for a night? But it’s totally cool if--”

“What—no, sorry!” she says, interrupting, shaking her head as she gathers the words, “I didn’t realize what you were asking.”

“…is that a yes?” There’s a hint of hesitance in his voice.

“Yes!” she says, louder than necessary. There’s something warm happening in her stomach at the thought and she really needs to get it under control. “Come! My couch is yours. For as long as you need.”

As long as he needs only turns out to only be one night, and they hash out most of the details over the phone.

“Fuck, thank you so much. I know you’re busy with work so, you don’t—you don’t need to entertain me or anything.”

“Bellamy.”

“I’ll come over at night and be out of your hair first thing in the mor—”

“Bellamy.”

He stops, and she hears him take a breath. One he probably needed. “What?”

She smiles into the empty room. “You have grading and stuff to do, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool, I have a layout to work on. Bring lunch and we can work together?” she asks, her free hand worrying through a knot in her hair.

She’s not that worried that he’ll say no, but there is some small part of her that’s still in wonder of this friends thing.

She hears him release a breath after a second. “Yeah, that sounds awesome. I’ll come around 1?”

Her grin is involuntary. “Whenever you’re ready.”

To be fair, they do set out to be productive; Clarke at the small table in her living room and Bellamy on one of the stools at the counter attached to the kitchen.

Within half an hour, she moves to the couch, responding to Bellamy’s raised brow with a shrug. “Need to stretch my legs,” she says, making a show of flopping down on the sofa with her laptop, legs outstretched.

It’s another half hour before he joins her with a stack of papers, settling in at the other end with his back against the arm.

“Not enough back support,” he says, by way of explanation. “Plus I’m pretty sure you have the best couch ever.”

“Such an old man,” she says, which earns her a glare. “But yeah, it is pretty comfortable.” She shifts her legs to make space for his and he leaves aside his glare to give her a nod of thanks.

“You do have excellent couch choosing skills.”

“One of my many talents.”

With an amused scoff, he turns back to his work, and so does she.

He falls asleep first this time, which is probably fair, given the amount of shit he’s dealing with at the moment. She doesn’t notice right away though, and it’s not until her own eyes are starting to burn that she looks up from her laptop and notices his stack of papers on the floor, one arm hanging off the couch toward them and his head leaned lightly sideways against the back of the sofa.

She also doesn’t notice the soft smile on her face until she lifts her hand to cover a yawn. Her eyelids droop even as she drops her hand and it’s almost on autopilot that she pulls the throw from the back of the couch and lays it over her feet, and effectively, his as well, before leaning back against her arm of the couch, halfway adjusting the pillow there before her eyes drift shut.

She wakes up to golden evening light streaming through the window.

It takes her groggy brain a second to realize that she’s awake because Bellamy is moving, and a second more to realize how tangled their legs have become, one of her feet wedged under his knee and the other resting against his opposite shin.

“Sorry,” he says, voice gravely and sleep-heavy, just as she’s about to move her legs, a flush beginning in her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He gestures between them where he’s reaching toward the blanket that’s fallen halfway off the couch. “My feet were cold.”

It’s suddenly a lot, having him this close, with so much contact.

“You’re fussy with blankets, aren’t you?” she asks, a weak try at humor.

“Hey, it’s fucking cold in here,” he says, stifling a yawn.

She tries not to dwell on, like, his entire face. “I’m sorry, would you rather be sleeping in your actually flooded apartment?”

He looks up at the ceiling thoughtfully, in faux-consideration.

“You’d be underwater, Bellamy,” she says on a laugh.

He cracks a grin. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s bad enough that you’re here,” she shoots back.

Bellamy just rolls his eyes. “Yeah, ‘cause hanging out with you is such a hardship.” He looks away from her and shifts to cover a cough, which is just as well, because she needs a moment to digest the comment. Then he’s turning back to say, “But, okay, fine. You’re my hero.”

“That’s more like it,” she says, her grin smug. She leans over to grab the remote. “Cupcake Wars?”

“Hell yeah,” he says, then grimaces. “Hold on, my foot’s gonna fall asleep.” He reaches down to lift her foot off his leg for a moment. Before she has the chance to debate removing her legs from his entirely, he’s stretching his leg out and returning hers beside it.

“Good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says, knocking her foot against his knee, warmth growing in her chest. “Good.”

It’s stupid to pretend he’s not her favorite, after that.

Not that she didn’t like him before—even when she told herself she didn’t—but now she’s got the whole… thing. The Bellamy Blake friendship experience: casual affection, constant mothering, stimulating conversations when she wants them, and stupid debates when she’s looking for something lighter.

They hang out more often now and any given night of the week finds the two of them at one of their apartments, working or just hanging out. The amount of times Bellamy comes over to nap on her couch on the weekends is slightly alarming. In the best way.

“Your couch is magical, okay?”

“So I’ve been told.”

She loves it. Loves having him around. Likes the aura of comfort he brings with him.

The Friday night after he meets one of the many deadlines on the road to finishing his thesis, he’s slouched against her on the couch while they wait for it to be time to meet their friends. Clarke cards one hand absentmindedly through his hair while they watch Chopped.

“Aren’t we going for something relaxing?” she’d asked when he turned it on. “You’ve been stressed enough for the last, what? Two weeks?”

He frowns, makes a sound of dissent as he shifts against her shoulder. “I haven’t been that stressed.”

Her laugh is tinged with disbelief. “Are you kidding? Should I pull up the string of text messages you’ve sent me? Clarke, I hate history,” she imitates, “Why did I do this to myself, Clarke? Ceasar can suck my dick, Clarke.”

“You only remember that one because you responded with like, sixteen eggplant emoji’s. Which,” he stops to lift his head and give her a look, “Weird.”

“Besides,” he continues, gesturing to the TV before she has the chance to tell him his history boner isn’t something to be ashamed of, “This is watching-other-people-fuck-up stress. It’s different from the possibility of ruining my entire career.”

She scoffs. Bellamy Blake is undoubtedly number one on the list of people least likely to ruin his career. He’s too passionate and fucking engaging to be turned down, if her opinion is to be trusted. And she likes to think it is.

“Fine. We’ll watch hopeful people fuck up and ruin their dreams if that’s the schadenfreude you need right now.”

He relaxes back against her shoulder with a huff. “Thank you.”

“Drama queen,” she murmurs, dragging a comforting hand through his hair.

An hour or so into the marathon, her phone buzzes and she leans over to pick it up. Bellamy groans, though whether it’s at the loss of contact or because he knows it’s bound to be Raven telling them it’s time to head out, she couldn’t say.

It is, of course, Raven, telling them to meet her, Monty, Miller, and Octavia at their favorite noodle place.

She relays this information to Bellamy, who groans again. “The one downtown?”

“Do we have another favorite noodle place?” she asks, tugging at a tuft of his hair that’s sticking straight up. “Why are you being such a grump?”

He frowns at her. It’s very puppy-like, and very unfair. “Weren’t you just saying I’ve been stressed out?”

“Weren’t you just denying it?”

He huffs a little, and she catches a hint of a smile. At least he knows he’s being a drama queen.

“I was kind of looking forward to just chilling out tonight.”

Chilling out with her. It shouldn’t affect her the way it does. They’re best friends, of course he like hanging out with her.

“Because you’ve been stressed?” she teases.

“If I say yes, are you going to tell Raven we can’t make it?”

A second later, as if realizing something, he sobers. “You can go,” he says. “Obviously. I don’t want to make you miss out, I’m just… not up for it tonight.”

She can’t help a soft smile. “Yeah, okay. I’m pretty tired too. You just want to hang out here? Watch something mind-numbing?”

The relief on his face is unmistakable and it pulls at her heart. He grins. “Are you gonna be mad if I just fall asleep?”

She swallows. “Not as long as you don’t mind me falling asleep on you, too.”

“Go for it,” he says, shifting so now she’s the one leaning against him.

“Cool,” she shoots back, more casual than she feels. She shoots Raven a quick text, and then settles in against him.

It’s Raven who ruins it—or saves it, depending on your perspective—when they go out for their weekly coffee catch-up. She and Raven have been friends even before she’d met Octavia, starting their freshman year of undergrad when Raven had transferred schools to surprise her high school sweetheart, who had moved on to dating Clarke and apparently neglected to tell Raven about it.

They both kicked him to the curb, and Raven proceeded to be the best engineer their school had ever seen. She’s the most badass person Clarke knows, and that’s saying a lot, considering she’s friends with both Blakes.

“So, what’s going on with you and Bellamy?”

“What do you mean?” Clarke asks, thoughts already flitting ahead to the plans she and Bellamy have for the week, wondering what Raven is planning that she needs to run by them.

“Are you two dating yet?”

It’s not an exaggeration to say she almost chokes on her coffee.

“What? Why would you think that?”

“Is it really that surprising?” She raises an eyebrow. “You guys are always together when we go out. Though even together might be an understatement.”

Clarke flashes back to a week ago or so, at the bar, where may have been an instance of… nuzzling involved. She feels her cheeks start to go red—but then, if she recalls correctly, it was definitely consensual on both sides. Consensual half-tipsy friendship nuzzling. Totally normal.

She shrugs it off. “He’s my best friend.”

“Yeah, and we’re all glad that you don’t just yell at each other anymore, but,” Raven hesitates, “okay, just… walk me through what you guys do when you hang out.”

“I don’t know, we mostly just stay in,” Clarke starts, wondering if she’s just humoring Raven, or herself as well. “We both work long hours, and making plans to go out is exhausting. We usually end up on the couch with takeout, or he might cook. Sometimes we nap.”

“I’m sorry,” she interrupts, “sometimes you nap?”

“That’s not weird!”

“Depends on how often sometimes is.”

“Like,” she stops to think, “three times a week, tops.”

Raven looks supremely unimpressed. “I honestly don’t know what to say about this except that you guys are like, whatever the nap version of friends with benefits is.”

Clarke glares halfheartedly. “So like, just friends, you mean?”

Raven levels her an unamused look. “You and I do not nap together, Griffin. And I’d say we’re friends.”

“If you’re jealous, that’s all you had to say.”

“Honestly, this is really good, though,” Raven says, after flipping her off. “How to get with Clarke: A nap-based seduction.”

“Shut up.”

“You like him right?” Raven’s eyes are serious now, when Clarke looks up.

She makes a mental assessment. It feels too fairytale to say that she gets the best sleep when she’s with Bellamy, but that doesn’t make it not true. And that’s not even close to what she likes most about him. He’s smart, passionate, kind. Plus, if she’s being honest, holding hands? Making out? Not low on the lists of things she’d like to do with him.

She lets her head thunk against their table. “Fuck. Yeah. I do. Fuck.”

Raven pats her shoulder comfortingly. “Sorry babe.”

She does appreciate the support. And it’s fair to say she that she might not have realized on her own.

“For what it’s worth, I think he probably likes you too,” Raven says.

“I guess I have to find out.”

“That would be the mature thing to do, yeah.”

“I hate when you make me do the right thing.”

“Yeah, me too. You’re a pain in the ass.”

“Hey,” Clarke says, heart in her throat, the next time they’re at his place on a weekend. “I was thinking we should actually go out for once.”

He doesn’t bat an eye. “Yeah, sure. Where were you thinking?”

“There’s a new sushi place downtown? It’s a little high-end, but I figure after eating so much take-out, we probably deserve it.”

“Nice. I’m always down for sushi. Tomorrow night?”

She grins at him, wide, and watches him blink in response. “Tomorrow night.”

 Bellamy:

not to “throw it back” as the kids say but

how formal are these plans I’m being coerced into?

Clarke:

okay a) pretty sure it’s just “throw back”

but b) please don’t ever say that again

c) it’s sad to eat take out on your own bellamy, do u want to be sad??

(it’s formal-ish, but you probably don’t need to wear a tie)

Bellamy:

okay but I don’t eat take out on my own

I eat it with you

(cool, see you at 7)

She tries not to over think it while she’s getting ready. To start, it’s not even a date, not to him anyway. Mostly because she was too chicken to broach the topic, but it’s better this way, she rationalizes. Things can’t get weird if it’s just the two of them, Bellamy and Clarke, best friends, trying out a fancy sushi place.

She settles on a maroon wrap dress and her favorite boots, because the place is nice. And if Bellamy happens to think she looks great along the way, then she’s alright with that, and feminism will support her choice.

He shows up at 7, as promised, and she’s suddenly a lot less concerned with how she looks than the fact that he’s… unbelievable, honestly. Not that she doesn’t find him ridiculously hot on a daily basis, but dressed-up isn’t a look she’s ever seen on him… it’s a lot.

She’s about to fake a cough, or do anything really, to hide her reaction, when she notices his slightly slackened jaw and lingering gaze, which is, really, just awesome.

“Problem, Blake?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know you look amazing,” he says, hardly missing a beat, his cheeks tinged pink.

She ducks her head on a smile. “Thanks. You look great too.”

“Couldn’t have you being the only beautiful one,” he says, holding the door open for her to step outside.

She laughs. “Yeah, thanks for sharing that burden.”

“Anytime.”

Dinner is, largely, uneventful. She’s a little awkward at first, overthinking things, but then he starts talking about the weird grad student in his department who sucks up to all the professors, and all her stupid fears are gone; it’s just getting a ridiculously fancy meal with her favorite person.

She does insist on paying, because she’s the one who suggested they come, and she feels a little bad for wanting it to be a date, without even asking him.

“Come on, Clarke, this place isn’t cheap. Let me pay half.”

“I told you, I suggested it. I’m paying.”

His brows narrow. “At least let me pay for drinks.”

“I swear, Bellamy,” she says, exasperated but grinning. “If you don’t let me treat you, I’m not going let you make me dinner anymore.”

It’s almost comical, how she knew that would make him frown. “That’s low, Griffin.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely the worst.”

“You are,” he agrees. Finally,he relents with a grin. “Fine. Thanks, Clarke.”

She smiles back. “You’re welcome.”

She’s yawning as they walk back from the metro, a remnant of having to be at work at 6 that morning.

He nudges her. “Hey. You work too hard.” It's the start to a familiar debate..”

She grins, gives him a soft shove. “How many times are we going to have this argument? You work too hard!”

“Because I have to, not because I’m having my talents exploited.”

Her expression softens. Not that she’s ever far from a soft look when she’s around him anymore. God, Raven was like, embarrassingly right.

“Aw, you think I’m talented?”

He blinks, a little surprised at the change of tone—a detour from their usual bouts of ‘who’s more of a workaholic’—but he’s not out of commission for long.

“You know I think you should be one of the people whose art they’re selling, instead of just doing the background stuff," he says, deadly serious. "Not,” he rubs the back of his neck, “that the background stuff isn’t important, but you deserve to be the one they’re catering to, not the other way around.”

God, she loves him.

She catches his hand, squeezing softly. “I’ll get there. Baby steps.”

He nods. She thinks he might be about to say something else, but honestly, it’s gone on long enough.

She lets go of his hand to take his arm instead, pulling them to a stop about a block away from his apartment.

“Cool, so if we’re done with that argument, I really want to kiss you now.”

His face goes blank. “What?”

Okay, so, he definitely didn’t know this was a date. Which is very understandable. Her confidence falters. “If you want to. It’s um—it’s an option.”

She thinks her heart might stop, the way he stares at her for a moment, jaw working. Finally, he lets out a shaky breath, and she might actually die of relief when she sees a smile play at his lips.

“Are there other options?”

He’s probably on board. She’s like, 80% sure. But just in case:

“Yeah, we could also go back to your place and pretend this didn’t happen.” Her smile is pretty convincing, she thinks, given how awkward that scenario would be after her proposition. “Chill on the couch, watch something dumb.”

“That sounds pretty good,” he says, serious, and she thinks she might actually have misread this, in the worst way—until he catches her hand in his, entwining their fingers. “Can we do both?”

She smiles so wide it hurts. “Yeah.”

With a grin matching hers, he pushes her hair behind her ear and leaves his hand there, behind her ear and the edge of her jaw, his thumb brushing against it. She’s the one to press forward, catching his lips with hers, but he’s quick in responding--after a sharp intake of breath--his free hand settling on her waist to pull her closer, warm and solid and perfect. She grins deliriously at his groan when she opens her mouth to him

“Fuck, I’m so in love with you,” he says when they pull apart, his forehead resting against hers, breathing shallow. She can't help a quiet gasp, and his eyebrows twitch together. “Sorry, is that too much?”

“No,” she breathes, still grinning. “Raven called me out for being in love with you last week. She says it’s weird that we nap so much.”

“Napping with friends isn’t that weird.”

“That’s what I said. But also she wasn’t wrong, I’m definitely in love with you.”

His smile is blinding. “Cool. I love you,” he says, apparently just to say it again, before catching her lips again in another searing kiss.

They decide pretty soon, that they should head back to his apartment, instead of… making out on the sidewalk.

“So, just to clarify,” he says, swinging their intertwined hands between them as they walk, “I wasn’t projecting my feelings when I thought this felt like a date, right?”

She pulls him sideways to press her lips to his again, sweet. “Nope. I was just too chickenshit to actually ask you.”

She’s never seen him smile so much. “Cool. You didn’t need to be chickenshit.”

Clarke shrugs. “I know that now. But I didn’t want to ruin anything. You’re important to me, romantic or not.”

The look he gives her sends warm shivers down her back as his hand tightens on hers. “Okay, yeah. We really need to get back to my place.”

She laughs as he pulls her forward. “I know you like napping, but your favorite couch is at my place.”

“Yeah that’s not exactly what I was looking forward to.”

“Wow, my couch is going to be so offended.”

He kisses her again, once they're outside his building. “Yeah, I think we’ll survive.”