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valkyrieskwad · 4 years

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here ya go, have some like, awkward college baby gays.

when sam planned out her apology, the last person she expected to answer kara's door was lena. as in, lena from the halloween party who she had sex with. but, there she is. wearing nothing but kara's flannel, looking pretty and fucking soft. this is the first time sam's seen her up close in good lighting, not drunk off her ass, and all she can focus on are her eyes. they're different colors.

"hello?" lena says after a second.

right. "is kara here?" sam asks. it's too aggressive, but she feels a little off-kilter looking at lena. she's here to apologize, though, she reminds herself. "can you tell her i'm not here to fight, and i know she hears me."

"she's actually not here," lena says, stepping out of the way to pull the door open wider. "but you're welcome to come in and wait for her. it's good to see you. you look really good."

"you remember me?" sam asks, like a fucking idiot. lena laughs a little. "right," she gushes, scratching at the back of her neck. she steps inside the room and lets lena shut the door behind her. it feels easier talking when she's not making eye contact. "i didn’t mean it that way. it's just that you're—"

"don't say something dumb," lena cuts her off. "i like you, don't ruin it."

sam fights the urge to repeat you like me incredulously. instead, she walks over to take a seat on kara's bed and tries not to think too much about sitting on kara's bed. where kara probably had sex with lena. maybe even right before this. of course, she's still managing to think about it. "so, you and kara. you a thing or something?"

lena shrugs, leans her hip against the standard edition dorm room desk. "or something."

there's a really awkward pause. then, "cool," is what sam finally says.

lena smiles, eyes glistening in a way that makes sam feel transparent. she clears her throat. "i’d love to be, but i’m pretty sure she's holding out for a thing with you, and i somehow got caught in the middle of this."

"what?" sam coughs. the only thing between kara and her is animosity; maybe even hate. she doesn't even think about kara outside of that. in fact, she spends most of her day Not Thinking About Kara. "did she say that?"

it comes out more curious than she intends it, which lena definitely notices. "more or less."

sam can't tell if lena's fucking with her, but the room feels too hot now. "in those words? like, she likes me?"

that one even comes out hopeful. lena's picking up every little nuance; sam can see it on her face. "you can discuss it when she gets back."

"no, i -" she shouldn't go down that rabbit hole, not sure if her heart or brain or soccer season can handle it. "i'm just here to apologize for being the reason we lost today. i can admit when i fucked up."

"you should have passed the ball," lena points out. "she had a clear shot."

"i know." there's another long pause, sam tapping the tips of her fingers together, lena looking content to watch her fidget. sam's the one to break the silence. "i don't like her, you know? we aren't - it's not like that. she doesn't like me. it's just a rivalry."

"she called me sam while we were having sex last week. she told me about you two, what happened first year."

sam's cheeks heat up so fast she doesn't even bother trying to hide she's blushing. she's lost count of the number of times she's gotten off to remembering kara's voice in her ear. she hates herself for it. "we had sex orientation weekend, and then the next day at soccer practice she barely looked at me. she just kept trying to show me up. so i kept trying to show her up, and now we're here."

lena actually laughs, then rolls her eyes like sam is being ridiculous. "that happened three years ago, and you still haven't talked about it?"

"what's there to talk about?"

"i don't know, her moaning your name during sex, maybe."

"whatever," sam mumbles.

"whatever," lena mocks. "i'm pretty sure she's only interested in me because she saw us together."

"don't tell me you actually believe that," sam frowns. "even if she is interested in me, there's no way she's not interested in you."

"maybe," lena says. then the door lock clicks and the handle turns, and suddenly there's kara. too soon and too unexpectedly, with her joggers and her loose t-shirt and the dumb way she staggers when she walks inside a door. she's carrying two bags from the downstairs mini mart and a subway sandwich. hair tied up in a messy ponytail. lips too fucking pink.

sam freezes. she forgot what exactly she came here to do.

"she came to apologize," lena tells kara, and sam realizes, awkwardly, they've just been staring at each other. kara's eyes are so blue, it's not fucking fair. sam feels more undressed now than she did the last time she was on kara's bed. "and, don't get me wrong, i don't think that's a bad place to start, but i told her you two should probably talk about more than just tonight or losing the game. especially since, you know, you can't keep her name out of your mouth."

"lee," kara says, calm, like she's fond enough of lena she's skipped shocked or upset and landed head-first on acceptance. "you didn't."

"i did, and she blushed, now discuss," lena gestures. "this is almost making up for my favorite show being on hiatus."

"we're not entertainment," kara pouts.

"not with that attitude," lena smiles. "but i believe in you. you can do it."

"i'm just here to - i'm sorry," sam says, then she stands up, keeping her eyes on the floor.

she's fucking glad for it, too, because she's pretty sure her string snaps when kara sighs. "sit back down, please. she's right, you know? even though we should talk about which information is not okay to disclose." lena whispers sorry. sam sits back down. she looks up just in time to watch kara glide the couple steps between them and plop down on the bed next to her, so close their thighs knock together. sam tries not to think about it. "i guess lena let the cat out of the bag, so no need to tiptoe around it."

"you still like me, so what?" sam says. she feels defensive.

kara carves right through it, though; first by blinking at her silently, then by opening one of the mini mart bags and offering sam a pint of mango talenti. "i do," kara says, slowly. she glances up at lena like she's checking if that's okay. lena's still smiling so sam supposes it is. it feels like she's in the twilight zone. she just wanted to apologize, but instead, she's doing whatever the fuck this is. she takes the ice cream and twists the cap off. kara relaxes a little. "that isn't to say we should do something about it, just that i don't actually dislike you."

sam wants to do something about it. it's her first thought. she won't say that. "what do you want me to say?"

kara looks at lena again. lena rolls her eyes. "you can say you like her, too. you can say you don't. you can say you want to be friends. anything, really. just don't lie, or worse - say nothing."

"i don't dislike you, either," sam says, fast enough she can't stop herself.

then she ducks her head and eats four scoops of the ice cream while kara stares at her profile. "cool," kara says, and then there's nothing else for a long while again. finally, after what feels like forever, kara huffs and asks, "you want to watch iron chef?"

"what?" sam asks, looking up, halfway to a brain freeze.

"lena and i have been marathoning it," kara explains. "it's what we do after, um. hanging out."

"i know you have sex," sam says flatly.

"is that okay?" kara asks.

it catches sam off guard. her opinion shouldn't matter, so she says as much. "does it matter what i think?"

"it does to me," kara says, then, "since we're being honest."

"i don't mind," sam says. it's not a lie, but it's also not a full truth. she's not jealous of lena; she likes lena. she's mostly just jealous that lena gets to have a piece of kara and she doesn't. "it's not like i can compete with lena."

that one catches kara off guard. she just stares at sam for a while. sam goes back to her ice cream. "you can, but you don't have to," kara says after a bit. "feel free to interpret that whichever way you want."

"i don't know what that means," sam mumbles.

"it means i can stay or i can leave," lena explains. "either way, you two are hanging out tonight. this isn't a competition."

oh, sam thinks. "oh," she says. "you can stay if you're good with that."

so lena stays.

they turn on iron chef then, kara squeezed between sam and lena, their backs against the wall on the twin-sized dorm bed. it feels fucking ridiculous, but sam settles into it, pressed against kara's shoulder. lena's asleep with her head on kara's lap by the time they announce the culinary curveball. sam can't stop watching kara's hand, tracing lena's ear, fingers snaking through her hair.

"does she always fall asleep?" she asks.

"like clockwork," kara says, "but she's not satisfied if we don't watch, then i get so caught up in it i can't sleep."

"that's cute."

"she is."

"i know," sam says, then immediately wants to take it back. "sorry, i didn't mean - i just. i really don't mind you dating, i swear."

"that's good," kara smiles, then moves her free hand from resting on her own thigh to resting on sam's. she doesn't even take her eyes off the laptop screen in front of them. sam feels like she's having a fucking heart attack. "this show is always so intense."

"you're touching me," sam says. she can't pretend it's not happening. "are you making a move?"

thankfully, kara just squeezes her thigh instead of moving her hand away. sam's not quite ready for her to go yet, but she can't sit here with them not addressing it. "should i not?"

it's not even a challenge; it's an honest question. sam wants to give an honest answer, but deflecting feels better. "is she okay with it?"

"yeah, she's fine," kara responds, thumbing over lena's ear as she says it. "pretty sure she has everything she wants right here."

"well, in that case," sam says, losing her thought briefly when kara squeezes her thigh again. "i guess it's fine."

"cool," kara says, so they watch the rest of the episode like that.

when the countdown starts to play another, everything feels tense. they're both tired from the game today, they should sleep, but they can't all fit on this bed. sam will have to go, probably. she's not ready to go. "hey," she starts, settling her hand on top of kara's.

"we can watch another," kara says right away. lena's out hard at this point, face smashed against kara's belly, snoring lightly. sam wants to be that comfortable, but she's jittery just touching kara's hand. "unless you want to go."

"not yet," sam admits.

kara flips her hand over, letting sam thumb over her palm, play with her fingers as the next episode starts up. "good," she says. "i'm not ready for you to go yet."

#supergirl #superreigncorp #asks #my writing #ficlet

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theironrepository · 5 years

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Dave Chappelle: The Fourth World War

So, it's official - Dave Chappelle's been cancelled. How funny it is that these days to be cancelled often means that somebody has returned to our screens after a long hiatus.

Doubtless you've already seen any number of articles wailing and gnashing their teeth over Chappelle's new Netflix special, Sticks & Stones. Vice (who, if you'll credit it, actually published interesting stuff once upon a time) literally exhorted people not to watch it. And, predictably as a sunset, all this fury from the bluechecked reviewer elite encouraged people to watch it in their droves.

This quickly turned into yet another example of the apparent disconnect between the fourth estate and real people. A screengrab from Rotten Tomatoes puts the story in simple terms - professional reviewers in aggregate put it at a sickly 30-something-percent. Meanwhile, the great viewing public's score briefly touched an unblemished 100 percent, and, at the time of writing, is still on fully 99.

But simplified stories can be deceptive, and this one is. The Tomatoes’ aggregated total is drawn from a mere sixteen reviews - comparatively slender in an age where anyone can spew their guts up onto the internet. I'm Rotten Tomatoes-approved, for instance, and I can promise you this doesn't immediately translate into Vice handing you large cheques to bitch about your drug problems or your torrid love life. Further, to rate something 'rotten' can be anywhere up to a rating of 49%, and even within the paid-up critics this was by no means the universal consensus, simply the majority.

So what gives? How did the opinions of sixteen people, barely enough to fill a bus, become another story about how you can't say anything these days? There was something similar at work with the latest retread of the Shaft franchise, where the unreconstructed masculinity of Shaft, as played by Samuel L. 'And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee' Jackson, is contrasted with the millennial softboy image of his estranged son. That work, too, has an alarming discrepancy between the critics' scores and the audience scores (again, 30-something to 90-something).

Much like Sticks & Stones, reviewers from a good number of established outfits (including, to my disgust, Rolling Stone, where Dr. Hunter S. Thompson spent his salad years) launched a broadside against Shaft's blatant lack of political correctness. Obviously I have some terrible news for them about the history of the Shaft franchise, and the blaxploitation genre as a whole. The point is, though, as with Sticks & Stones, this predictable response just encouraged more people to watch it. Why, it's almost as if they were doing it deliberately!

And they were. It's obvious they were. By the time I actually saw Sticks & Stones, I'd seen a good portion of those angry headlines - but I'd also seen how Netflix had tagged the special, and before even calling it 'comedy', they'd called it 'politically incorrect'. In other words, that's the exact brand it's chasing, and the journalistic class fell for it. Not all of them, but more than enough to whip up a narrative that those awful, censorious PC thugs are having a go at good old Chappelle.

This has been tried the other way round with less success. Most notably, there was the all-female Ghostbusters remake in 2016, whose audiences felt they were literally sticking it to the man - that is to say, the various sexists and traditionalists whose knees jerked at the very idea. Columbia Pictures wound up losing $125 million on that project, getting their fingers burnt so badly they declared it damnatio memoriae and now plan to reboot the series right back to its original continuity.

Ironically, the gender-flipped Ghostbusters’ approach was at bottom a reactionary thing - trying to make the best of the anti-PC opposition it received. Chappelle's new show, meanwhile, was clearly playing on this angle from the start. Even the name's a giveaway: 'sticks and stones', as in 'will break my bones but words will never hurt me'. That's the thesis that's thoroughly rejected by your archetypal ‘social justice warrior’, those of the mythical callout-culture mob, who, despite their alleged ubiquity, have done precisely nothing to hurt Chappelle's bottom line, and in fact probably helped the viewing figures.

The usual name for an entity like this that can only feign a threat is a paper tiger, so it was curiously on-the-nose to see Bill Burr come out with a Netflix special of his own literally called 'Paper Tiger' not two weeks later. Burr, too, attacks the right-on faction - if anything, more loudly and aggressively than Chappelle ever did. So the same audiences that lapped up 'Sticks & Stones' eagerly sucked this down too, awarding it fully 97%. But the critics loved it too, and as I write this their Rotten Tomatoes rating for 'Paper Tiger' sits prettily on 86%.

Were I being flippant, I'd put the difference there down to flat racism. But the two specials and their two frontmen are, despite everything, far too similar for that. Both are well-established figures on the comedy circuit, who've had TV shows of their own, and who are now good family men, who presumably forbid their own children to watch their material.

So why'd the critics prefer Burr's output? Dare I say it, he failed to rile the PC vanguard simply because Chappelle had beaten him to it. It's unlikely those journos figured out Chappelle had tricked them. Far more probable that they considered villainising another comedy special quite so soon would be getting dangerously samey. It’s called ‘news’, after all. And, indeed, the contrarian audiences who so delight in defying the nanny-press probably weren't in the mood either - they probably still watched Burr's one, just not out of spite.

Alternatively, it's because the critics didn't expect anything different from Burr. He's been on record and on stage many times before about his dislike of PC culture. It's not that Chappelle has previously been particularly PC himself, but - and here the flat racism raises its ugly head again - there is perhaps a feeling of wounded betrayal in seeing such sentiments coming from a gentleman of colour. Identity politics have always cut both ways, and there is a natural assumption that anyone in that sprawling, seething mass of people labelled 'minorities' must defer to a certain way of thinking.

The real irony of it all, though, is this: while 'Sticks and Stones' and 'Paper Tiger' weren't made by and for the PC party line, they aren't so very outrageous either. Speaking as a fan of Doug Stanhope and Pete and Dud's notorious Derek & Clive records, these contenders are by comparison family-friendly. Which is perhaps no surprise. Tweaking the noses of groups who are universally held to be over-sensitive and thin-skinned? Hell, that's easy mode...no wonder both Chappelle and Burr seem so cheerful.

#dave chappelle #bill burr #sticks and stones #paper tiger #shaft

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22kjde · 7 years

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Sentiments Mean Nothing

Warning(s): Swearing, very slight Daddy kink at the end, suggestive sexual nature throughout

Word count: 4.2k

You know, it wasn’t so much that she and Harry hated each other, per se, rather it was just that they had both developed a sort of, mutual dislike towards one another that, quite frankly, neither of them knew where it stemmed from. The pair had done nothing wrong to each other to deserve the hostility, but it was there and they both never really knew why. It was very much like an ancient feud between them.

Very Montague vs. Capulet-esque.

However, considering that they’d only had the pleasure of knowing of the other’s existence for about 2 years, the use of the word, ‘ancient’, seems invalid. Nevertheless, from the moment they first met, there seemed to have been an already established tension between the two personalities and needless to say, neither of them cared for the personality of the other.

See, he was a private person, an introvert, you could say; despite being a household name around the world, and preferred to keep himself to himself regarding personal matters but being quite the socialite when it came to public appearances.

She, on the other hand, she was… loud, in Harry’s books. An outgoing and excitable character that wore her heart on her sleeve within the comfort of her inner circle in contrast to the shy, non-talkative woman he had met through a mutual friend during a party.

With him being the one to instigate the conversations the whole time with a drink in his hand and a wide, fake-looking smile that looked practised for situations like these, she found him pretentious and over-bearing. Talking to her as if she was a little girl who was too immature to talk to strangers.

And with her barely opening her mouth to answer his questions, nodding her head up and down or shaking it from side to side instead as an indicator of her feelings to avoid awkward stutters and embarrassing herself, all the while sipping from her glass and avoiding the glint in his eyes as he talked to her, he found her dismissive and arrogant. As if she didn’t have the time to converse with someone like him.

Despite their feelings towards each other, though, they had wound up spending extended amounts of time together over the course of the 2 years seeing as she had managed to pick up the job of his fashion stylist ever since the band went on a hiatus and he launched his solo career.

Although, the former cold-shoulders and silent treatments as they went on with their own tasks for the day started to dissolve. Their prejudices were still upheld, just shown in a slightly different manner as they became more accepting and comfortable towards their mutual distaste for one another.

During the first year, scornful glances and tight smiles were shared as they conversed briefly as to what Harry would be wearing for his next TV appearance. This was to be replaced during the second year with extra touchy-feely advances to tease and sarcastic remarks followed by cheesy pet-names to piss each other off were exchanged as she took Harry’s new measurements.

“You should buy me dinner before you get on your knees, darlin’.” A dirty, but snide, comment was normal from Harry and she had honestly been expecting it from the moment she had started to measure his inseam.

“’S a good thing you pay for dinner then, innit? That way you can get on your knees for me.” She spoke in rebuttal before leaning back into a squatting position and standing back up. Her heels adding a good three inches to her height but still not nearly as tall as the, quite frankly, lanky man in front of her.

She pivoted on her heel to place the measuring tape back in its rightful place before recording the numbers into her little journal of everything important she needed to know about Harry in order to fit him perfectly to his tailor-made, brand-name outfits.

She heard him step off the mini platform at the centre of the room and stalk behind her, his warmth radiating from his body to hers.

“Why does he always stand so close, for fuck sake, it’s like he has no spacial awareness.” It was times like these where she thought to herself if there would be any chance in the world, where she could find a genuine bubble she could permanently place Harry in to avoid the close contact every minute, she would.

“Tell me again why we need to do these fitting things every six months? Seriously, I'm a grown man, my body doesn’t change that much in that time period.” Harry starting to fiddle with the pen she just used to write with as his minty breath fanned over the right side of her face.

“It does with your irregular fucking diet plans, Styles. Would it kill you to stick to one regime?” She spun around and leant against the grand table with her arms folded, looking up at the, now short-haired, tattooed man as he shifted to put his hands on the edge of the intricate furniture either side of her body.

“Mm, I think it’s just 'cause you wanna try your hand at seducing me during these sessions.” His voice lowered down to a sultry, deep tone in an attempt to fluster his stylist but she, as always, stands her ground.

“If I wanted to seduce you, baby, I would’ve done it by now,” She leant up slightly, the endearing term fell from her mouth without hesitance while their breaths mixed between their parted lips as she continued. “And besides, size 10 feet? Not that impressive.” She smirked subtly as she saw his face fall. He knew what she was indirectly referring to and, judging by the way he reacted, she knew she had hit a nerve in which she also gathered he would try to prove her wrong.

But before he could, however, she slipped out from underneath him and started walking towards the entrance to exit the room, her heels clicking against the expensive marble floors, not bothering to close the chrome door and yelling a, “make sure to lock the door when yeh leave!” to a rigid Harry who let out a sigh and rubbed his ring-clad hands over his face to let out some frustration towards the woman who was trapped in between him and the mahogany table not even thirty seconds ago, before slamming his hand on it and purposely leaving the door wide open in spite.

“Change.”

Was the only word from the judgmental, but somehow always right, fashion stylist that Harry heard as he did a twirl in his new suit. Having quite the admiration towards the look, if he does say so himself, after inspecting it in the mirror.

“Why?” He drew out the word to emphasise his annoyance with the constant change of outfits. He might as well be a marathon runner, he’s breaking a sweat from changing his bloody clothes.

“Because, honey, the shirt doesn’t match the suit at all. That’s why I told you to wear black, not white, but look who didn’t listen yet again.” She stood there behind him with her pen held in between her front teeth and one arm around her torso to keep her other elbow resting on top, catching his eye through the mirror.

He scans her choice of clothing today and, as per usual, she’s wearing the most stylish and trendy pieces that she matches so well with her heels. Harry’s never really understood how she so effortlessly throws together a look ready for the runway every day when she comes into work but still manages to keep it light and casual as if it was the first thing she found in her closet earlier in the morning.

He trailed his eyes up her body, tanned and fit, may he add, to her subtly made up face which was glowing. He assumed it was from the highlighter she applied, because why else would he describe her as 'glowing’? That’s disgusting. He doesn’t like her. Not one bit.

“Have you quite finished staring at me, or do I need to get the camera for yeh so it’ll last longer?” She allowed the tease to be projected as she approached him, standing on the tiny platform, meaning their bodies were now pressed against each others’ closely before she shrugged off his suit jacket and started unbuttoning his dress shirt.

“Hey, hey, hey. You normally need to get me drunk first before we can have some fun, love.” He smirked down at her, watching as she aggressively rolled her sparkling eyes at his comment. She continued to pull the shirt off of him and stepped down to grab the black shirt she had wanted him to wear in the first place.

As she turned around, she couldn’t help but notice a slight change in his physical appearance. His back muscles seemed more prominent. His thighs looked even more full than they already were when she last took a good look at them. His arms were bulkier. His torso now adorned with evident bumps of abdominal muscles. Even his cute, little bum seemed rounder and plumper which made her stifle a giggle.

“Awe, H, have you been working out?” She had to bite her bottom lip to stop her bursting out into laughter when she caught him standing up a bit straighter, looking proud that his work was noticeable.

“Nice to know you were checking me out back there. Like what yeh see, angel?” The pet-names were used as a kind of second nature to the pair of them now, but they were far from endearments. No, on the contrary, they were always laced with slight undertones of incivility and cheek. They were both familiar with them by now.

“Oh, most definitely. You been working out just for me? I know I'm the only one you strip down for lately.” She referenced to the multiple outfit decisions they had to endure with every appearance he made in public, which people would be surprised as to how often that is, and she had to make sure that he was not seen repeating a look. God forbid he wore the same trousers twice.

She slowly made her way towards the, still shirtless, male stood in the middle of the high-ceilinged chamber, decorated with mirrors, as she ran her hands up and down his back before rubbing at his shoulders. Harry’s head fell back at the sensation of the soothing motions on his shoulders, he had been meaning to go to a masseuse to get the knots out of his joints for a while now. He closed his eyes and let out a content sigh, completely forgetting that she would be the last person on Earth he would want to touch him like this a few days ago but he allowed the action.

“You know I was filming 'Dunkirk’, sweetheart, don’t flatter yourself.” He retorted as he pulled her round to his front by her waist and leant his body against hers, his frame towering over her smaller one.

“’S a shame, really. And here I was, about to let you have your way with me only if you had just admitted this is all for me.” She fake-pouted as she taunted him, something she has perfected over the years, with her hands resting against his naked chest. There was something about the way her clothed, soft chest was pressed into his bare, hard one that made the both of them lose control of the situation at hand temporarily as they focused on each other at that moment.

“Don’t tempt me, baby.” His voice switched to a low whisper, a threat almost.

“I don’t have to.” She replied with confidence, her eyes flickering to his raspberry-coloured lips that looked so inviting.

It was strange for the both of them, being in this position they’d never thought they’d see themselves in, but here they are. Through all the slight sexual tension covered up by distasteful remarks about each other over the years, clouded by the decision subconsciously made that they had a repulsion towards one another, they had failed to realise that attraction could’ve easily been confused with said repulsion, convincing themselves that it was a fact neither of them liked the other and that was final. Perhaps too afraid to confess and deal with the consequences of their feelings.

Just as they began to come to terms with the compromising position they were in, and even more conflicting emotions fluttering around the space, the door was pushed open and two flailing bodies broke apart at lightning speed. Harry quickly finding his black shirt and fumbling with the buttons as the flustered stylist violently grabbed her journal and pretended to write in it whilst holding the pen upside down.

Not another word was spoken between the two of them as they complete the fitting session, everyone coming to a conclusion that the black shirt was indefinitely better than the white, much to Harry’s dismay, and their day was done.

The two parted and went their separate ways, however, the mental image of the other never left their minds for the rest of the week until they had to face the music at the next session.

Harry was fucked.

Royally fucked.

So fucked, in fact, that he decided to wallow in self-pity at how fucked he was then he went out and fucked a random girl whilst thinking of fucking his attractive stylist he had now realised he had already fucked things over with.

If that doesn’t scream, “fucked”, I don’t know what does.

Though what he didn’t know, was that said stylist was also feeling the same way about him and was completely distraught over the idea that she might like Harry Styles. The same Harry that would make her want to rather die than converse with him for more than ten minutes. The same Harry that would tempt her to spit in his food whenever it got delivered during the fittings. The same Harry that would force her to socialise with large groups of people she didn’t know when he knew it made her uncomfortable.

But it was also the same Harry that when he held her in his arms that other day, made her feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. And it was the same Harry with pink, soft lips that she wanted to kiss so desperately whilst, at the same time, tugging on his curly locks.

Though, more importantly, he was her Harry. He had always been her Harry to tease, to taunt, to tantalise, and to mess with until he’d get all riled up and sometimes push her against the wall (which she didn’t necessarily mind). But now, she wanted to describe him as being her Harry in a different way, and that scared the shit out of her.

She didn’t know what the fuck to do anymore, it’s like her life lost all purpose if she couldn’t make fun of the Cheshire-raised lad, and now all she wanted to do was tell him about her family and cuddle. She had actually begun to suspect she had developed some sort of illness and hoped it would go away like a common cold.

Although, she figured this was not the case the next time she saw him, in all his elongated glory, at a party very much like the one they first met at two years ago. Sipping on her alcoholic beverage, she observed him from far away as he mingled, as he always does so flawlessly, with people she had never seen before in her life. The very mere fact that he was in her presence not even ten feet away made her stomach tighten with new feelings she never thought she would associate with the musician and she hated herself for it.

Turning her body away from him towards the bar, she asked for another drink, slipping the rectangular note of currency towards the bartender as he fixed her up yet another glass. She knew she had most likely needed to have stopped drinking so heavily around the 'two hours ago’ mark, but right now, she really couldn’t care less, she just wanted to forget about Harry and if getting her stomach pumped for the first time means achieving her goal then fuck it.

Her motive was short-lived, however, since the charming man that was swimming her mind plopped himself on the stool next to her and gave her a sly smirk.

“What do we have here?” He questioned, mainly to himself, as he observed the obviously intoxicated woman in front of him.

She rolled her eyes, hopping off the high stool, only to fall face first into Harry’s crotch which made him jerk back at the impact and let out a slight groan before cupping her cheeks and lifting her head up to inspect how far gone she really is.

“Helloo, handsomee.” She tried her best to imitate a wolf-whistle seeing as she couldn’t actually whistle so instead made a sort of high-pitched, 'whi-woo’, as she trailed her index finger down the curve of his cheek and smiling drunkenly, “I missed youu…” The slur in her words concerned him, not knowing how much she’s had to drink and she clearly could not stand up without support.

“I’m gonna take yeh home, okay, lovie? You’re alright.” He scooped her up into his arms without any struggle and started to manoeuvre his way out of the clammy air of the bar to the nippy, fresh air of the London streets. He set her down on her feet for a second, leaning her against him to keep her balance, as he took off his jacket and wrapped it around her, knowing that even though his place was only a rough 20 minute walk from the party location, the chilly air would get to her more easily than it would him, she’d always been sensitive to the cold, and at this time of night, it certainly didn’t make the air more humid.

After a solid few minutes of walking to his abode, they finally reached the welcoming front door of his mansion, him fiddling in his pocket to find the right set of keys before twisting the lock and pushing the door open. A gust of warm, fruit-scented air hit both of them as he stepped inside, laying her down on his extended white sofa in the living room before closing the door.

“Mmm, are yeh gon’ sex me up now, Daddy?” Her sudden words making him choke on his own spit, as he cautiously walked towards the tiny figure resting on his comfortable seating area.

“No, no, I’m not, baby, not right now, yeh need to rest. I’ll get you some water and some Advil to take then we can go to bed, okay?” He spoke in a soft, calming tone that made her suddenly relaxed, only finding the strength in her to nod before he stroked her hair back from her face and made his way to the well-presented, expensive kitchen with more room than he needed.

As a matter of fact, all the rooms in this place were more than he needed, if he was honest, but he just didn’t know what else to use his money on.

Approaching the worn-out female sprawled across his sofa with a glass of fresh water and two pills in his other hand, he set down the glass on the side table whilst reaching his hand out to tilt her head up slightly and sit her up enough so she could swallow comfortably. He pried open her mouth by holding her jaw and placed the pills on the top of her tongue that had traces of alcohol left on it, bringing the liquid up to her lips and telling her to swallow gently. She obeyed and took the medication before slumping back onto the cushiony surface as he sighed, soaking in her beauty, even in this state of mind.

He watched as she closed her eyes and got comfortable, taking it as his cue to leave her to sleep, so kissed her forehead with care, and started to prepare to deal with whatever shit storm that was bound to happen, in the morning. Well, that was until he heard a small whine coming from her calling out for him.

“Harryy?… Stay wit’ me? I wan’ cuddles.” She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling gently at the sight. She was just so adorable, how could he say no?

“I’m right here, puppy, I’m not going anywhere.” He answered her before carefully laying down beside the inebriated girl he had grown fond of this past couple of weeks and tangled their limbs together, letting her rest her head against his chest and wrap herself around him in an attempt to snuggle and use him as her own personal pillow and blanket.

As he listened to her breathing become regular and so quiet he had to strain to listen to it, he knew she had fallen asleep so pressed another tender kiss to the crown of her head and whispered to her in her unconscious state.

“I’d never leave you.”

And it was in that sweet moment that Harry now realised that she had a hold on him, and he intended on not letting go.

Harsh rays of bright sunlight beamed through white, sheer curtains and hit her face as she stirred from her slumber. It was a Saturday morning and she was definitely not in the comfort of her own home so thought the worst and groaned inwardly in shame at herself for letting herself get so wasted. The first thing she did was just look down at her, what she expected to be, naked body, but instead found herself and the mystery man fully clothed. Confusion overtook her features and something she noticed right away was that her 'pillow’ was breathing and they’re not supposed to do that, right? Or was she still tripping from the after-effects of the amounts of alcohol she consumed last night?

A wave of pain radiated throughout her head as she groaned, bringing a palm to her forehead in an unsuccessful attempt to soothe it slightly. Her movements unnoticeably woke up her 'pillow’ and startled her when the familiar deep, raspy, and, dare she say, sexy morning voice sounded from underneath her.

“Oh, fuck me, not Harry. Anyone but Harry.” She thought to herself, although not truly meaning it since she found herself absentmindedly wanting the situation to have been more… wild.

“Well, good mornin’, sunshine.” He chuckled lightly at her facial expression following the pet-name he had chosen.

“What the fuck happened last night?” She asked half-heartedly.

Part of her didn’t really care what happened whilst the other part dreaded what his answer would be.

“You really don’t remember?” His voice was thick with an emotion she couldn’t quite pinpoint but she did know that she felt guilty after hearing it, sensing that he was a little disappointed.

She merely shook her head and bit her lip, tilting her head up to read his clouded eyes, they always gave away whatever he was thinking, she detected this within the first few months of knowing him.

“It doesn’t matter, please can you get off of me, you’re starting to feel like a dead weight. I honestly can’t feel my legs.” His whole demeanour changed in a split second and she was a little surprised but what did she expect, really? He’s just the same old Harry, though she’d be lying if she said it didn’t hurt a little.

“I’m not getting up 'til you tell me exactly what happened, Harry.” She was adamant. She was always the type of person to get answers out of whoever she wanted, he was starting to wonder why she wasn’t a fucking lawyer or something.

“Listen, nothin’ happen-...” He was cut off by her swollen lips pressed against his.

To say he was shocked would be an understatement, he was bloody flat-lining on the inside but he quickly reciprocated the sudden, but passionate, kiss as he wrapped his arms around her waist with her hands coming up to caress his cheeks. Her legs ended up either side of his torso and she pulled away just before he had the chance to poke his tongue in her mouth, just to tease, like normal.

“D'yeh want something to happen?…” She questioned him inquisitively, not one hundred percent sure that he shared the same feelings that she had pent up inside of her for, what felt like, decades.

He responded by flipping her so she laid on her back instead and hovered over her, leaning down to peck her lips once more before moving down to her neck and pressing open-mouthed kisses along the skin.

“All I’ve been thinkin’ 'bout for ages, darlin’. Let Daddy make yeh feel good.” He smirked into her skin once he felt her gasp quietly and visibly tense at his words.

“I called you, 'Daddy’, last night, didn’t I?” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment once she heard him chuckle and answer with a muffled, “you did”.

“And it definitely won’t be the last time.” He commented in a sultry voice before raising his head to make eye contact with her and leaning down to connect his lips with hers another time.

He made a promise, and he was damn hell-bent on making sure he kept it.

#harry styles #one direction #harry styles imagine #solo harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #1d #music #dunkirk #fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #imagine #one shot #fanfic #niall horan #louis tomlinson #liam payne #zayn malik #thehsquad

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carolrance · 7 years

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I saw this thing. I’m answering this thing... even though nobody asked.

So, I saw someone answering this and thought it was sorta cool but I don’t think people will respond anymore so I’m just doing it myself. Self love, ya know.

Talk about the first ship you ever had. Uhhh… I can’t remember which came first Mulder & Scully or Usagi/Mamoru. (The latter being really icky to me now that I’m older, lol.) I think it was Mulder/Scully… I was in primary school for both of these so it’s confusing cos that was a really long time ago.

Talk about three of the most important ships throughout your life. Mulder/Scully (The X Files). I honestly don’t really feel like “talking” about them cos I don’t think it’s very interesting. Also, I have no idea where to begin. Naomi/Emily (Skins) – I fucking can’t stand them now, to be completely honest. I actually sorta hate Emily. By they (and Skins in general) did have a rather huge impact on my life. Now, I feel like I should put Dany/Doreah but really I think more importantly in terms of my life, it would be Marissa/Alex from The O.C. Does that sound stupid? Maybe. But that pairing (as shitty as they treated Alex and the whole relationship by the end) had a fairly huge influence on me. I think it was my first femslash ship that I was totally open about. (I totally shipped Jo/Rachel (and Jo/Rachel/Paul) from S Club 7 (DON’T EVEN!) but back then I didn’t even think it was serious…even though I had a whole website about it, lmao.)

What’s your current OTP? Oh my… Dany/Doreah forever & Marg/Sansa (ASOIAF/GoT). Michelle/Naomi (Skins). Carol/Helen (Episodes). Amanda Rollins/Olivia Benson (SVU). (With a bit of Rollins/Lindsay on the side. SVU/Chicago PD). Niska/Astrid (Humans). … So… Like… A lot? A lot of old OTPs are still OTPs now? Bo/Lauren (Lost Girl). Meg/Veronica (Veronica Mars). Katniss/Johanna (THG). Lou/Tess (Lip Service). Quinn/Rachel (Unreal). Jessica Jones/Trish Walker (Jessica Jones). Virginia Johnson/Lillian DePaul (Masters of Sex)………I think even my few het ships I’m still not totally over (Chase/Cameron, Mulder/Scully, Martin/Sam, etc) but I mean, I don’t really care either.

What’s your current NOTP? Any of the above characters paired with men. Simple. I have a lot of nOTPs tbh. Most canon ships are NOTPs lmao. Although… I guess Patsy/Delia is a current NOTP of mine. Don’t shoot! I just don’t care for them. They are boring to me.

Do you have any poly ships? I was sorta into Marissa/Alex/Ryan (The O.C.). I started a fic about them. And the aforementioned Jo/Paul/Rachel.

How do you feel about love triangles? Lazy. The thing is, they’re a real thing. I’ve been a bunch and they’re just uncomfortable. No matter what, somebody gets hurt. I just feel like in TV/films they’re SO LAZY. An easy way to create drama for drama’s sake. And one faction of fandom is always upset. And usually they’re really shoddily designed so it’s like one girl, 2 boring ass boys fighting for her WHO WILL SHE CHOOSE?! BLAH……. Boring. “The triangle’s not a friendly shape, okay? It’s pointy. It’s got edges. Triangles hurt people, man.”

How do you feel about RPF? Nope. I’m a bit of a hypocrite cos I spent a great deal of time in my childhood sorta straddling the very thin line here with the whole S Club 7 thing. And, I’ll admit, I did enjoy this April Pearson/Lily Loveless fic once.

Have you ever shipped yourself with a character? No. Usually my favs feel a little too relatable which is why I’m attached to them, not cos I wanna bone them. Also, way too much drama. I mean, fictional characters are almost always exaggerated people.

Do you have many ships that never got together at all? All? LMAO. Okay, let’s see… Sam/Martin did, briefly (Fuck Without A Trace tbh. What a horrid little show.) Chase/Cameron were together and that ended badly as well. Carol/Helen, also ended horribly (so far). Mulder/Scully… that’s difficult. They’re difficult. Marissa/Alex, ended horribly. Naomi/Emily, technically… hmmm. Well, as of S4 they were back together but I didn’t buy it and I pretty much loathed Emily by that point so fuck em. That ended badly too. It ended horribly if you count S7–which I don’t cos I never watched it. If I didn’t see it, it didn’t happen. Bo/Lauren. Okay, this may be the only bright light in all my ships, lmao. They were together and then not, then together, then not, then END GAME. So, I guess the ones that never got together??? Basically just look above at my OTPs and see all the ones I didn’t mention here ending horribly lol.

Do you ship any characters that have never met? ONLY THE BEST ONE: MICHELLE/NAOMI.

Talk about your favorite first kiss. Like in canon onscreen? Or in my head? Big diff. Chase & Cameron maybe. I loved that episode. Mulder & Scully’s first (onscreen) kiss was a bit weird. I don’t remember Sam/Martin tbh. Hmm… Marissa/Alex was hella stilted and awkward prolly cos it was on FOX and like Mischa Barton is a terrible actress. Bo/Lauren’s first kiss was pretty good. Yeah, I really liked that one. Mostly cos it didn’t fade to black immediately (ahem, Carol/Helen) and it wasn’t set to ‘I Kissed A Girl’ (Naomi/Emily)… Okay, in fairness that was only the American version. The one I saw had Lily Allen playing instead… But still. I loved that episode but it wasn’t the best first kiss I’ve ever seen.

Have you ever been disappointed when your ship finally got together? Yes, when they get together only to end even shittier. Which is basically all of them except Bo/Lauren.

Has a ship ever broken your heart? All of them. Canon and otherwise. My heart breaks on a regular basis.

How do you feel about will they/won’t they? Ugh. Useless. Generally, it’s queerbaiting when it’s my femslash OTPs. When it’s het, I’m just like, “As if these two lonely, outrageously attractive co-workers wouldn’t have banged already. Like, give me a break and just do it already. Who believes this shit?”

Have you ever “shipped at first sight”? Lemme think… Probably? I can’t actually recall any specifics however. Not Mulder/Scully, I know that. The first time I saw them, it was New Year’s Eve and I spent the entire show huddled on the sofa in my friend’s basement with her and her cousins, shaking and screaming, lmao. The X-Files really isn’t great TV for easily scared children with big imaginations, lbr.

Talk about a ship you initially disliked. One that I like now that I disliked previously? Erm. None. I don’t flipflop on ships, lbr. It goes like this: I am oblivious/indifferent to ship, depending. I see ship. I ship ship. I love ship. And it’s only then that this can diverge. Either I stay in love forever, or I end up positively hating the show/pairing and I stop shipping it, or it just kinda dies out over time. Normally it’s the first or second, rarely the third.

Talk about a pairing you’ve stopped shipping romantically. And now just ship them only as friends? Or stopped shipping them and dislike them now and don’t want to have anything to do with them? The latter is clearly Sam/Martin. I just hated how the characters were written and the show was fucking awful after S3. The former… Ah, the former. I think this really has to be Naomi/Emily. I am 1457% Naomi/Michelle, no alternatives accepted. Naomily is toxic imo. Like so incredibly nope. I am -100000% Naomily. I stopped shipping them mid-S4, probably during Katie’s episode. I was just like, “Nope, this is pretty gross and not healthy and what the fuck?!” I gave up completely at the finale when it was so fucking stupid. I think by then I’d already had my Michelle/Naomi dream… Anyway. Like, I literally cannot handle Naomi/Emily anymore. At most, I can deal with them as friends. But even then, sometimes I wonder if writing them that way in my fics is pandering in some sense. It’s not intentional pandering to Naomily stans… but, now I look back and wonder? They’re just so awful together romantically. I shudder.

Talk about a moment which made you question an entire ship. Hmmm…. Carol/Helen in Griffith Park in 4x09 when she makes Carol give back her bra. That whole episode was really nasty and really awful and not funny at all. I really dislike the writing there. It was just… Helen was just disgusting really and it made me really uncomfortable about shipping it. I have other examples but it only asked for one.

Have you ever shipped something despite yourself? She-Ra and He-Man. I had no idea they were brother and sister when I was little but I thought they were cute together. Oops. It wasn’t until a few years back when I mentioned them at a party and everyone was like, “Errr, you do know they were twins, yeah?” NO. I DID NOT.

Talk about a ship you feel alone in shipping. Carol/Helen. I feel like the few people that shipped it with me on tumblr here were really turned off by their breakup. And also, it’s been on hiatus forever. Also, I suppose Claire Dearing/Zara Young from Jurassic World, lmao.

Is there a ship you just don’t get, but have nothing against? Most het ones? Like, just… why would you be with that puffy wonderbread boy when you could be with this other hot lady and have 10003x times more chemistry and interestingness? (Like I mean, I’m totally talking about Erin Lindsay and that gay dude she’s fucking, when it would be so much better if she was with Rollins, lmao. You go watch the crossovers episodes and tell me I’m imagining that.) Other het ships, I have definite things against the men.

Which of your ships have the best chemistry? OH GOD. Now, ermmmm…. this depends almost exclusively on my own headcanon/bias so obvs others aren’t likely to agree. Cos, well, Michelle/Naomi have hella chemistry LMAO. Like just look at this photo. Clearly. Okay, seriously… Bo/Lauren. Like hands down, undoubtedly.

Which of your ships deserve better writing? Every single one of them. Especially Dany/Doreah lmao.

Do you mostly ship canon pairings? Clearly not.

Have you ever shipped a pairing before you even started watching the show/movie simply because of gifs and graphics or similar? Skins. Lost Girl. Actually, hmm. I saw gifs of LG but I guess it wasn’t until I saw Zoie Palmer at a film premiere I went to that I was like, “WHO IS THAT?!” And then I realised I had to start watching that programme.

Have you noticed a pattern in your shipping? Is there a romantic dynamic you’re more drawn to? Blonde/Brunette. Like, it’s really obvious. But not 100%. Otherwise, I don’t really see any substantial patterns.

Is there a ship you’ve shipped for most of your life? Mulder/Scully.

Does shipping come easily to you? Neither here nor there. If it clicks, it clicks.

Do you need to ship something to really enjoy a movie/book/tv show/comic? Most of the time. But then sometimes shipping gets in the way of my enjoyment cos it becomes all about the pairing.

Name a couple of fandoms in which you have no ships. Fortitude? Honestly… I don’t even know. I watch a bunch of TV I have no particular interest in shipping anybody. Oh! Here’s one NASHVILLE. I honestly do not care who’s with whom. It’s irrelevant.

Talk about one of your favorite headcanons for a ship you love. Dany/Doreah – Doreah is alive. That’s it. That’s the headcanon. (And bonus, Dany takes Doreah to Lys and burns down the pleasure house Doreah was sold to as a child.) I have to add that most of my fav headcanons revolve around one half of my OTP still being alive. Which is both sad and really telling. (Like… Doreah, Margaery, Naomi, Meg, Marissa, Lillian… Ouch.)

Share five must-read fics. I’m trying really hard not to rec my own shit cos I just love my headcanons too much. Okay, here: They Will Crown You, They Will Take Your Legs by (Netgirl_y2k); tie your handlebars to the stars (and throw away the map) by (majesdane); my heart is gold and my hands are cold by (quinnking); If you’re gonna shoot me down, do it gently by (aphrodite_mine); I Can’t Get Out Of Love (a love i had a grip on; now it’s gripping me) by (doreah) hahahahahahahahaaaa i will do whatever i want when i want to force this pairing on everyone

Name your favorite fanartist(s). IDK??????????

Share your favorite fanmix for your OTP. Dany/Doreah: actually… oops. my fav fanmix for them is on my ipod and nowhere else lmao. it’s really good hahahah. anyway… um. so i’ll choose one that’s not mine: i’ll send a storm (most of mine are either doreah-specific or based on my fic which is a lot of headcanon and this one has excellent musical choices. that first track is killer.) Meg/Veronica: song of solomon (your poetry in motion) Chase/Cameron: i’m all second chances Michelle/Naomi: can’t get out of love Bo/Lauren: it’s killing me, it’s killing you, a page from the book of my fantasy

Recommend 1-5 shipper blogs. Pass. I don’t even know any…

Do you create fanmixes/gif sets/fanart/fic/fanvids and so on for you ships? Used to. Obvs.

Do you have a favorite trope and/or AU for your OTP? Half of it not being dead.

Do you like and use ship names? I generally stay away from them unless I to find stuff/want people to find my stuff on tumblr. I find them cloying.

Is there a fictional relationship you’d really want for yourself? Hell no. Real life is difficult enough.

If you could change one thing about your OTP, what would that be? They would all be alive. Sensing a pattern? Also, being canon would be nice.

#i did this and i don't know why #naomi x michelle #dany x doreah #marissa x alex #meg x veronica #bo x lauren #carol x helen #mulder x scully #michelle x Naomi

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inexchangeforyoursoul · 6 years

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Not gonna lie… I wanted to double up on this one and put the next Nami chapter in here so there’s another long one after all that hiatus. But I see it's already massive at over 4k, so I'm not disappointed in myself. :p

ps have y'all ever tried to draw Law with Cora's smile? I did, a few years back. You may have even seen it. It's pure nightmare fuel...

25. Grandma: off

"Yeah, these are vanilla flavored," she concludes after Law had her taste the ones with a yellowish hue on them, even though the smell was a dead giveaway.

"You can have those, then," he states as he's nibbling on the remains of an unflavored one.

"You dislike vanilla?" Kat asks, being somewhat surprised at the information. Like, it's a sometimes food, true… but she also won't straight-out turn it down when being offered. Nor does she know anyone who would. Well, didn't know anyone, who would.

"Nope. Once every blue moon I'll accept it, but generally? I don't like vanilla. Nor raspberries, blackcurrants…" He leans back into the chair, thinking about; "... pineapples. Licorice. Green apples and yellow tomatoes…"

"... zoes dis list 'ave an end?" she asks, munching on a vanilla flavored piece.

"... eventually," he nods, then continues in the same breath: "Artichokes, brussels sprouts… aubergines. Caviar. It's a long one."

She swallows the mouthful of crackers. Must be as long as the list of enemies she never received, except it's all villainous food. "I'm also not a fan of a few you just mentioned, but sheesh... didn't realize you were this picky." She doesn't consider herself a picky eater at all, considering how she likes most stuff others turn their noses up to, but him…? That's a lot of items. Sure, most of these would be hard to notice as they are relatively uncommon, but still. Plus there's bread. And raisins. And god knows, what else.

"Now you know. Deal with it," he states, biting into his last plain cracker.

"... you really are a princess." A princess perpetually stuck between Criminal brand and haute couture. She's… tempted to sneak a pea under the mattress.

"And her highness is about to give you new instructions, so get your shit together," he states then, getting up from his seat that's been turned towards the bed for the impromptu tea party. Kat follows him to the chest of drawers just as he motions her to get her ass over there.

"So," Law starts once having some mouth space to work with; "I guess you've already noticed these," he says, opening one of the small chestlets halfway. She nods.

"Today you will try to pop stuff inside them. Take this button, for example," he says, already putting it into her hand; "It's small enough to fit any of these; once you've managed to do that, take them out again. Without looking inside, of course. Start with the biggest one, proceed from there once you've done it without a hitch three times in a row, that is to say, the box remained intact." Having finished the briefing, he stuffs the remainders of the rice cracker into his mouth and digs out the biggest specimen from the bottom of the brick pile.

"..." The explanation was easy enough to follow, but… "I, um… wouldn't it be bad if I cut out too many pieces by accident?" There can be only so many boxes she can ruin and holes that can be made...

"Things you break that way, you can repair yourself… and I have a wee little feeling that you already know how to reassemble stuff. Boxes don't need surgical hands if you mess up, you're good to go. Godspeed," he says as he's stepping back to his chair, swatting her back while at it. He's gonna have another cup of that green tea.

"Oh… okay." Basically, if she was handed a plate broken in two… she could fix it as if it had always been under the fruit's influence, huh? Wow… it seems super logical, but she didn't think of that. Maybe because it would have been a little too convenient, considering all the stuff she can do already. A power that's all kinds of broken, indeed; and one which is, funnily enough, exceptionally good at un-breaking things.

Back to the task at hand, however… it… is kind of a relief that she has to do something else for a change, no lie. Even if it's just the next level of the same task. Well then… attagirl.

As expected and kind of feared, the operation just doesn't happen to be something within her skill range. If nothing else, the sheer challenge that the simple task poses is driving her will to crack the fucking, godforsaken, lousy code already. She's never been so pissed at random inanimate objects before. Not even the croissant from the other day.

She won't be able to pull off the freeing of the button for a while, that's for sure, but she's infuriatingly close to get to the solution of putting the button in without mass producing malformed guitar picks and miniature honeycomb statues, for all it's worth. (Could it be that her desk is actually fixed at home…? It would be nice to know.)

Law meanwhile is checking on her briefly every now and then… and has written some additional shit into this diary thing after a few occasions. For some reason, this doesn't sit all that well with her, but maybe it's just the fact that getting evaluated this way reminds her of elementary school. More specifically, the one art teacher who kept circling across the classroom like a vulture and wouldn't say anything, just write in a seemingly liberal note after the bells rang. It was a lucky dip of fours and the rare five for her; her taste clashed somewhat with hers, but since she was an overall nice and eager girl, the woman let it slide. Others weren't so... well, lucky. This teacher left fairly quickly as a number of parents complained about their otherwise excelling students getting a gracious 3, if not a barely passing 2 at the end of the first year of her work; the staff were also not exactly a fan of her, so there was little fuss. What even was her deal…?

Law waving a hand in front of her face pulls Kat back from the self-indulgent reminiscence.

"... there, now you're paying attention… It's about half past one, if you're hungry, be free to leave. Just come back within an hour or so, okay?"

"Oh, um… alright." Did she not notice him addressing her? Man, that's embarrassing… about as much as her stomach wanting attention all of a sudden and not being shy about it, either. Getting really tired, too… may have been trying too hard? A cup of coffee is in order for sure. She barely even remembers doing this for more than an hour…

The phenomenon is not foreign to her, although usually it's with something she enjoys. It always feels like waking from a nap wondering what day or year it is, except she's wide awake all along. Boy, does she hate when this happens at an inappropriate time.

Law wrinkles his brows in mild worry; she's absolutely out of it. Has been all day, to be honest. "... look, if… if you're like this because of yesterday evening, it's fine. Forget what I've just said and try to get your head clear before you come back instead, alright? You won't be able to work like this, take a walk, or whatever."

She blushes a little and starts fiddling with her thumbs; she's scattered enough for it to be beyond obvious… sheesh. "... okay."

Taking a walk seems definitely the way to go, she ponders over her lunch a few minutes later, still in some kind of trance; she's not up for doodling right now and it occurred to her that singing is a no-no. However, she also doesn't like to err around without a goal. Perhaps she could take a look at the cafe, or get more chestnuts… or… hm, there's been some stuffed animals on display, too, right? That seems to be something worth looking into. She has a stupid plan, after all.

As soon as she hops ashore a little after 2 o'clock, a familiar figure appears en route to the fair; Fugu seems to be returning with quite a lot of groceries.

"Hi," Kat waves awkwardly as they cross paths; she considered going the longer way, but… if he noticed her, too, it would have been really rude, wouldn't it. Take it like the fake man you are at the moment. And in general.

"Good day to you, too, Miss," the man greets her, slowing down a little, which she does herself; "are you going out to shop, too? Or is it just a walk?"

"A little bit of both…. I've been a dunce all day, so Law suggested I unwind somehow," she confesses while rubbing the sideburns, thinking back at the rather embarrassing convo.

He nods solemnly. "It is a good decision to step outside. Spending too much time down there can make one dull fast."

"Can't argue with that," she sighs. Not leaving her room in general is one thing, but cooking pretty much all day below deck in the dark is not something she could get used to on the long run. Travelling on that tin can must suck really bad… honestly, Law should have also come out. How many times has he left that thing since they've been like this? Up to five times? Next time, she's dragging him with her. Seriously, how the hell has he been surviving this in her body?! Anyway… "That sure is a lot of stuff you have, though… don't you need help with that?"

The man cracks a smile, thinking back to some past shopping adventures. "The others don't appreciate me taking my time… and the nagging kind of ruins the experience, you know? Speaking of which, though… I actually am running late today, so I'll be on my way. See you around, Miss, and have a good time!" With that, Fugu is already on his way at double the speed he came thus far to reach his alternate shadow that never met up with her.

"Thanks… same to you!" she waves in vain as there's noone to see the action, also picking up pace. She definitely won't want to walk out all the way to the new docks an hour away, there's nothing to see there apart from new ships and the hill with the pretty houses where rich traders and the odd noble live. The furthest parts of the fair will be about half an hour away, where a small chapel signals the end of the old district, but fast walker on longer legs than usual or not, that also would be a waste of time, to be honest… all in all, she shouldn't be out for more than fifteen or twenty minutes altogether for this. She asked for the coffee to be made for half past two, so she's got all the motivation she needs to get back in time, too.

First things first, Kat lets the nice smells seduce her and she gives into the temptation of another small bag of chestnuts even though she's not really hungry; thankfully, there's someone else there instead of the weirdo from the other day. Passing the notice board, she's surprised to see that two of the more 'famous' teens from the high-class parts have gone missing. Finds it hard to be worried a few seconds later upon noticing that they've not come home yesterday night; seeing how they are troublemakers, spending the night elsewhere wouldn't be much of a downgrade. But apparently, they've told their parents until now when they stayed out after curfew, they must be thinking of the worst, considering the news lately. That's kind of nice to know.

She skims the other stuff; apart from some job offers and wanted posters, all she can find is another notice from the police stating that the group from last Tuesday that's been taken into custody will be given over to a marine ship Saturday afternoon at 8. Kat raises a brow; while they did almost kill-slash-kidnap her and a bunch of people last week, why would they announce this detail… reading on, she comes to a halt with an 'oooh'. Alright, she can see the point now. According to their information, former fleet admiral Sengoku will be accompanying some greenhorn marines on the ship. Someone must be a fan. Regardless… she better keep low that day, maybe avoid coming outside altogether. Taking a mental note and swatting the worrisome thoughts about the port town disappearances into little clouds, she moves on. Walking deeper into the cheap stuff, she eventually does notice what she came for: a place with stuffed animals galore.

She takes a quick look around, and her eyes zero in on a really big, white teddy bear in the middle of a pile; it looks exceptionally fluffy. But, is it as soft as it looks? She steps over to it and slides a finger down its arm; yes... yes! That is absolutely the softest goddamn plushie that has ever graced her skin. Or Law's, but who the fuck cares. And it's… oh. Oh, boy. 12000 Bellys. Um… hm. Reconsidering.

As amazing it would be to shove this thing into his face as soon as she arrives… as a one-off prank and a useless gift, this really ain't worth the money. She also really ought to use the huge canvas she bought for like eight a while back, stroking it gently and contemplatively is not gonna get her anywhere. All it will do is drench the cotton in stinky human body oils.

Taking another look around, she spots a few more bears; she slides over most of them immediately, as they do not seem to fulfill her questionable standards regarding this purchase. One's too goofy, another is an unsympathetic, weirdly mixed brown color, and the third… she's not sure what kind of clothing that blinding neon vomit is supposed to be. She eventually spots another round ear hiding behind a pink doskoi panda. She pulls it out and… seems like a jackpot. At least it does look way too determined for an off-white chap with its black and white backpack that can probably fit some cash, and the black shirt. Honestly, if either would be striped instead of what they are, this would look like one really, really proud burglar bear. Well, then… nothing in this pile is over a thousand, so...

Kat approaches the ships with a sprint, knowing that she was already over 15 minutes with this little detour before even starting to browse the teddies. The slalom between the old warehouses is not something she likes because of the drunkards and thugs like those two lost whippersnappers that hang out in these abandoned parts from evening till dawn, and the odd dead body that people find about once a year, but hey… it makes things quick. She sees the mast of the Sunny peek out from beyond the roofs; already there, thank god. Running towards the shore already, she spies a lot of small… somethings around the last corner by the sea. It could be puke... but… nope. She slows down for a moment and squints; it's… sunflower seed shells. At least two average packages worth; someone must have come all the way out here to the two ships last night to sate their need, which looks like a straight-out addiction. Thinking about it, though, not only has she not seen any unsavory puddles, but the area has been really quiet in the past week or so, even if the people on the main street would cover up most of the noise anyhow… perhaps knowing that there are formidable pirates docking nearby has them worried…. or the more frequent patrols during the festival smoked them out at last? Who knows, really; she just hopes that the peace will be felt for a few more weeks. Sleeping by an open window is risky, because she cannot know when people will get too close to her quarters and break bottles or scream… but when they don't, it's the best sleep she can get apart from the very limited warm winter evenings, when she's had comfort food and a long, hot bath she reserves for the occasions. Having actual winter weather when appropriate is nice.

Kat finds it easier to crawl onto the huge ship by boarding the Tang first, since the ladder is somewhat suspended, so she takes the opportunity to have a quick look around for Law; by some kind of miracle, he actually is out here, seemingly sending some of his crew she doesn't know much to do something downstairs in this very moment. One of them has a tool box… maybe something about the engine or plumbing, then.

"What's up down there?" Kat asks walking up to him, with the hand hiding the teddy turned back. She's always found blatant hiding of presents counterproductive… having something in a hand that's not easy to recognize, while still not bulletproof, is the superior strategy by far. The mostly intact chestnut bag being noisy in the other also helps.

"Some pipe seems to be leaking in the showers," Law responds, looking at an accounting book page. If they need to weld in a chunk with a small one, there should be enough stock, but if they'll have to replace it, or even worse, it's the main line… they will have to find a shop. The funds are not looking the best at the moment, though, and he's no gonna ask Nami. Hm… what are the chances that they could scavenge some from these old warehouses…? Would be nice to have Scan available right about now. Maybe he will open a Bepo petting zoo to raise money, this once, and perhaps rope in Carrot as well...

"... is that something that happens often?" How much piping and stuff even is there in this thing? "When underwater?"

"12-18% more likely than on surface dwelling ships, pressure changes and all. Still not as bad as when the ventilation croaks eight thousand deep, trust me," he answers, putting the green marker ribbon of the three available ones on the page, then slaps it shut. "And, have you pulled yourself together?" He asks, turning his attention to her, though he's somewhat distracted by the bag.

"..." She kind of wants to hear that story. But not now. "Been a little irresponsible, as you can see," she pokes her head towards the item; "you can snack on it, if you want to. Otherwise, I've yet to drink a coffee to make sure I keep being productive, but yeah… I guess a walk was really all I needed, thanks," she says, trying to keep the smile levels in check. "By the way," aaand there goes the effort, "here."

Just like that, Law gets to see eye to eye with a stuffed bear that looks as if it was ready to fight him.

He blinks a few times, brows pulling closer together in confusion and surprise.

"Iiit's for you." The statement starts question-like, then ends sounding matter-of-fact. She… didn't really think this far. And can't read shit from that reaction.

"... for me." She just… she's actually handing him a teddy bear. The fuck.

"Mhm." She nods. "One more for the collection."

"What for?" His perplexed state leaks through his voice; he also grabs the thing so he can see her proper again; can't think of any rational explanation. Unless it's a joke, that is. Certainly sounds like it.

She shrugs. "... just because." There is no real goal to be achieved here. She just wants to drown him in embarrassingly adorable bears, preferably with as many people witnessing it as possible. And watch him struggle with the situation... this is as close as she can get without going bankrupt.

This... doesn't exactly sit well with Law. Because, if he's right about thinking that she's trying to compensate for… whatever, really… this is getting out of hand, no matter the reason. He can feel his pulse picking up pace; she's been doing it all day. The rice crackers, and tea... She doesn't seem to be lying about the chestnuts being an impulse purchase, but she just offered them, too...

"... Kat-ya... we need to talk."

Although the phrase makes her uneasy, somehow, the fact that he just used that name again shoos the other feeling to the side. "Oh... did a million years pass already?" she asks with honest wonder. Or... could it have been just 'a thousand years' the other day…? Well, same difference in this case.

He set himself up on that one, didn't he…

Seeing Law's disgruntled face, she adds: "Sorry, sorry... shoot away."

He lets out a sigh. "Look, about this…" he takes a passing look at the bear; "... aggressive attention and care stunt you're pulling... I do appreciate the sentiment, but stop. Being stalked by a surrogate grandma is not something I want, ever." Actually, let's just... "Please." He's low-key willing to get on his knees and beg if it becomes too embarrassing for him.

She's somewhat ashamed at his request and just a bit disappointed upon hearing that; "Oh... okay. Sorry."

Law reaches up and pulls at her ear gently, which is followed by the most unconvincing, little 'ow' on her side. "And stop apologizing for every little thing, sheesh. I'm just asking you to moderate yourself and take it down a notch, alright?" A whole 20 notches. She just bought him a goddamn teddy bear, for fuck's sake. One that is, in fact, sporting the same half-determined, half-smug expression he has on quite often. Be it a joke, poking fun at him or something genuine, this is too much. And it's, uh... kind of weirding him out?

He can't even remember the last time someone bought him something tacky that wasn't his crew. Or, well, the Strawhats as of a few weeks back. And he can't really tell her to fuck off because of this whole situation they are locked in. They have already passed the stage where he actually would tell her something like that, having a good idea how hard she would take it, not to mention that it would make everything exponentially worse, and he… frankly, he has no idea how to handle this situation. How do you communicate with those who are not backstabbing, murderous, thieving jackasses, or of generally questionable morals? With, you know… people?

"Okay... then, I should handle you less like a princess, and more like..." she starts after a second, stopping Law's train of thought, then stops herself as well, trying to decide on something less baby-able; children won't do, of course, nor animals, uh... "a flower!" All they need is some light and water... and the occasional fertilizer! Boom!

Law decides to push his little crisis aside for the time being, and suppresses the snort upon being compared to a 'flower.' He'll have to figure out how to act as if he had some fucks to give later. "Both of those comparisons are really weird, considering you're talking about me, you know. But… I guess. If you want to put it like that."

She flashes a big, optimistic smile, which just… doesn't quite fit his face, and never will. Still, it's as if he just gave her a treat for being a good dog. Which is, frankly, quite amusing. He can practically see her wag her nonexistent tail... Pulling her leg from time to time will be tempting. "And? Will you actually be able to keep to it?"

"Sure," she answers, then speaks up again after a few seconds, musing; "Honestly, I just want to... well, see you less morose all of the time, if that makes sense." Knowing what she does now, the memory of him silently laughing at the aquarium while she was butchering his person became a hundred times more pleasant. As is the chuckle from earlier.

… he really should have just let her leave yesterday. This has already gotten uncomfortable, not to mention that it reeks of trouble. "Seriously, Kat… if you are doing this because of what I suspect- which you are, let's be honest,- but even if not… it's still not your job to make me happy."

… saying that out loud feels so weird. It's almost as if he's speaking a foreign tongue.

Her pep goes as suddenly as it came. Partly because, well… Law's right. Still… "I like making people smile and laugh, though," she mumbles.

She's a difficult one, alright. He gives his head a frustrated scratch; "I never said you couldn't try, just... everything has a time and place, okay?"

She grumbles something that must be an 'okay' while nodding. Meanwhile, Nami has appeared over the railing, and calls out to her almost immediately:

"Kat, coffee is ready! You like it with two sugars and milk, right?"

It takes her a second to shake off the embarrassment and address the question. "I do," she replies at last.

"Now go, get that coffee," Law instructs, poking her with the book; "And wipe that frown off your face, brooding is my job, capiche?" Even if he'll be forever weirded out by how his face looks with a genuine smile plastered over it.

She can't help, but crack an awkward smile a that. "Yeah." Another moment of hesitation later, she steps towards the rope ladder.

Law sighs and takes another look at the bear. Now… will this thing fit into the chest with the dozens of others he's gotten throughout the years?

#KMKY

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