#just imagine suddenly being obsessed with a piece of media. and then you look around ur room and U SUDDENLY RECOGNISE A CHARACTER MERCH???

[fluffyartbl0g]

The one piece reread only makes the hardest moments hit even harder,,,, even when you’re rereading it poorly in portugese

Or AKA, i found out today that HINATA SHOYO reads one piece and I haven’t recovered since

[harryhoney-bee]

You should make an imagine where you borrow the fans sign that says convince my boyfriend to propose and like show it to Harry while he’s performing and he’s all like “oh really?” or “where’s your boyfriend at?” and it’s all funny and fluffy love your writing btw! ❤️

Dumb Boyfriend

Summary: Y/n borrows the sign "convince my boyfriend to propose to me" and shows it to harry while he is performing

Word count: 1.1k

..

Harry was giving his all on stage once again, the man was shining on his red outfit, his shirt almost opened and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, he looked amazing. Y/n was in the private area of the pit with Jeff, both of them were dancing with the crown.

Thankfully, most of the fans loved Y/n. She was more active on social media than Harry and didn’t mind sharing bits of hers and Harry’s life with the people who supported them. She had some idols herself, and she knew she didn’t enjoy just their work, she also adored their personalities, she wanted to know who they were when they weren’t on stage.

When she began dating Harry he already knew she was more open than him, as the months went by Harry became more familiarized with Instagram and Twitter, even though he still used his profile mainly for his profession, he would still let Y/n post some content about him on her social media.

The fans treated her as their hero because of that. Even though Y/n was dating Harry, she didn’t come from a rich family, she had an upbringing like most of them, so it was very easy to connect with her. She just tried to create a very respectful and friendly relationship with the ones responsible for making her boyfriend’s dream come true.

She watched as Harry finished singing, he posed for some pictures and went around the stage greeting fans and just being his dork self. But suddenly he stopped, looking at a sign that happened to be close to where she and Jeff were.

The sign said: convince my boyfriend to propose to me.

Harry always showed to the world he was obsessed with children, pregnant ladies, and dads, but this tour exhibited a part of him most people didn’t know: how much he enjoyed giving silly, but effective, relationship advice.

“How long have you two been together?” he asked the couple. “Oh, seven years…” he sighed playfully. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

Y/n and the fans laughed at his answer, the girl even rolled her eyes as Harry looked in her direction, he talked as if seven years was a lifetime. It was not the first time he had brought up on stage why couples with more than one year together weren’t married yet, which was funny, because Y/n and Harry were going to be celebrating their two-year anniversary in 3 weeks.

“Do you love each other? Are you best friends? Just do it,” He said as the fans exclaimed ‘aww’ together.

Y/n couldn’t help but feel her heart warm by the way he listed the reason why Lucas should propose. Being best friends was a real big deal Harry, of course, she was aware of that, but hearing him saying that to a crowd of twenty thousand, knowing that she was there watching him just made her feel like she had indeed chosen the right guy.

Harry was the kinda person to be drowned in love. He would pick up on their significant other's interests, read all of their favorite books, listen to their favorite bands, and match the way they dressed. He was like a sponge, absorbing parts of his lover’s personality, incorporating them into his lifestyle.

With Y/n wasn’t different, he loved everything about her, every little piece that made her who she was, was something cherished by Harry. He wasn’t scared or embarrassed to show this to her, on the opposite, he adored being vulnerable, it was something very important to him in his relationship.

“Let me look in his eyes,” Harry said, staring at the poor boy’s face, after moments of silence, he finally spoke. “Yeah, he’s gonna do it,” he said matter-of-factly, turning around to go to the other side of the stage.

When he’s gonna do it, Y/n thought as Harry began to sing what makes you beautiful, turning to Y/n when the ‘you light up my world like nobody else’ part came, blowing her a kiss while also waving at some fans.

When he went to the back of the stage Y/n had an idea. With one of the security men by her side, she headed to the fences, where fans began screaming, asking to take pictures with her, which she gladly did, after they all calmed down Y/n asked if they could tell the couple who Harry was talking to moments ago to come to have a chat with her.

After some minutes the cute girl was in front of Y/n, shock on her face as she held her sign with trembling hands. “H-hi,” she said, looking from Y/n to the men by her side. “Did I do something wrong?”

Y/n smiled sweetly at her. “Of course not! I called you here to know if I could borrow your sign for a bit? I’ll give it to you back, don’t worry.” she explained.

“You want my sign? That's it?” the fan asked, confused.

“Exactly, I wanna do a little something, but if you don’t want to that’s totally fine too!” Y/n reassured the girl, who was still trying to understand what was happening.

“Hm, ok, you can have it,” the fan said, giving the sign to Y/n, who happily accepted, saying thank you before coming back to Jeff’s side, who was looking suspiciously at her.

“And what do you plan on doing with this?” He asked, giving her a side-eye.

“You’ll see,” she simply replied.

When Harry was done singing he went back to his position in front of the couple and in front of Y/n. He, Nyoh, and Elin got ready to start fine line, but Y/n raised the sign in the air.

He looked at the sign, reading it before giving her a smirk, “Want me to convince your boyfriend to propose?” he said smiling, the fans and the band laughed, realizing what was happening. “Ya’ really want my help, huh?”

Y/n just looked at him with a cocky expression on her face.

“Your boyfriend must be extraordinarily dumb, darling,” He couldn’t hide the smugness in his tone. ”But don’t worry, I’ll fix that later, alright? He winked at her one more time before announcing the next song they were going to be playing.

Y/n went back to the fence, giving the fan her sign back before coming back to her place, watching Harry singing one of his most emotional songs. Besides the beautiful message he was trying to transmit with Fine Line, Y/n could only think of what was going to happen when the show was over.

Y/n had good butterflies in her stomach.

And Harry had a nice ring hidden inside his travel bag.

..

Please, reblog and leave a comment about the blurb!! Share your thought with me <3

Tag list: @sunandherflores, @elenagilbert01 , @bellelittleoff @sunflowervolume66, @evanjh @beachwood-cafe @lovey-harry

[mattzerella-sticks]

“is scamming gay rights?” - Dean & Jack, DeanCas, Bi!Dean (ao3)

Jack tries teaching Dean about his latest obsession, TikTok, except a breakdown in communication teaches Dean that, sometimes, acronyms can mean more than one thing.

           Dean didn’t understand exactly what Jack rambled on about, but he passed the point of no return a few minutes back and couldn’t interrupt without revealing he had no clue what the younger boy prattled on and on about. As it was Jack currently kept pushing his phone in Dean’s face, gesturing at it and shaking it every ten seconds or so. Dean glanced between Jack and it; each time he did there was a new video on screen and by the time he shifted his focus back to his son the lecture had moved elsewhere along a road he had trouble following. By then, he let himself sink into the comfortable numbing cadence of Jack’s speech, sipping at his beer, surfacing only when he recognized a word before diving back under.

           His ears perked in familiarity as Jack used an acronym Dean recently learned, and so he tuned back in. Jack drew the phone closer to his side of the kitchen table, tapping on it. “There was this big problem with mlms actually, and even though I filtered my home page to avoid profiles like that, they kept popping up,” he said, “Luckily TikTok went ahead and basically blacklisted and deleted all mlm content. Now, I rarely see any of those kinds of content.”

           Dean’s features shuddered, mouth dropping slightly in fright. His ears echoed with the awful drumming of his heart, and a painful wheeze tickled his throat, demanding freedom. He released it on a sigh, slightly curling in on himself. “W-what?” he asked, “You… you didn’t like it?”

           Jack shrugged, “I mean, it was kind of annoying, but I learned to ignore them. When I learned how harmful the content was, however, I was very glad to hear that TikTok went ahead and took some sort of action – Hey!”

           On autopilot, Dean snatched the phone out of Jack’s hands. He slammed it, hard, on the table between them. Dean pointed a harsh finger towards Jack, snarling his next few words. “I don’t want to ever hear you talk like that again.”

           “What?”

           “Or!” he added, fist hammering Jack’s phone further into the wood, “use this, this damned app – if this is what it turns you into!” He huffed, hands retreating to steeple at his chin. “You think you’re raising a kid right… raising a kid to be accepting despite being so close to the Bible Belt… and one dumb app undoes all that hard work.”

           Jack, frozen in his seat, stared at Dean with concern shining in his comically wide eyes. “What are you talking about, Dean?”

           “Look,” Dean said instead, his finger extending once more to point at the younger boy. It was a less accusatory gesture, softened by the gentle tone Dean adopted. “I know I haven’t been the best role model with… with that kind of stuff. Hell of a lot better than my dad was, though… still not the best. But I’ve been getting better, especially after I…” His words bottlenecked on his tongue, and through great effort did Dean spit them out. “After I admitted my own attraction to… to men, especially one man in particular…” Dean’s head felt like it might erupt, magma-like blood swelling his brain to dangerous sizes. “Cas.”

           “Yes, Dean,” Jack nodded, “I know that. I’m… I’m confused what any of that has to do with this?”

           “What it has to do with…? Jack…” Dean pinched his brow, tense shoulders collapsing as the strain became too much, muscles snapping like bridge cables. “I might not be the most… the most out, or the most proud, okay? But I’m trying. Remember that bi flag pin I wore during that hunt one time? That was me… trying. And I’ll keep trying, because this isn’t something I’m ashamed of.” He reached for Jack, ensnaring his wrist to make sure his message was well received. “So you see, being gay isn’t – it’s not annoying. It shouldn’t be hidden, or… banned and it certainly isn’t harmful despite what some repressed shitheads might think.” Emboldened, Dean levelled a disappointing glare at Jack. His lower lip jutted out in fatherly disapproval. “And I’d rather be staked on some piece of rusty rebar than let a stupid app make you homophobic. No more… Ticking-tock. Period.”

           While Jack might not appreciate Dean’s ultimatum now, he will later on in his life. Dean imagined a future where he and Jack, much older than they were in this moment, sat on a porch swing talking about how good a job Dean did raising him to be a decent human being, as Jack’s partner, whose features he couldn’t distinguish from such a distance in their front yard, played with their son, named for the man who set Jack on the right path, obviously. He was knocked out of this fantasy, unfortunately, by the lumbering footsteps of his oafish brother.

           Sam entered the kitchen, Cas at his side with a tome held open in his hands. Their conversation withered as they took in the scene they walked in on. “Hey,” Sam said, shuffling his way to them, “what’s going on?”

           Dean opened his mouth, about to explain that he was dishing some serious parental law and wisdom. Except Jack hurriedly interrupted, rushing to speak first. “I have no idea,” he told them, “I was explaining TikTok to Dean, and suddenly he starts ranting about how it’s a homophobic platform?”

           “Because it is!” Dean argued. He grabbed Jack’s phone, waving it at the others. “Jack told me that they’ve gone full Russia – banning mlms and… and it was brainwashing him, making him hate gay people!”

           “Dean! I don’t hate gay people –“

           “Because I acted before any of the damage actually managed to take root,” he said, “If you used this any longer you would’ve had more harsh things to say about mlms than they’re annoying.”

           Jack groaned, scrubbing his face with twitching fingers. “They are annoying!”

           Dean gestured at Jack, asking with exaggerated brows and frown lines, what they should do about Jack’s denigration. Sam, for his part, seemed unbothered by Jack’s callous attitude. “I mean,” he shrugged, “Jack’s not wrong. Mlms are… pretty annoying.”

           Betrayed, Dean staggered to his feet. He faltered visibly, enough that Cas rushed over, dropping the yellowed book he held, and offered a hand. Dean accepted it, leaning on his boyfriend’s shoulder. The touch on the small of his back renewed his strength. “Sam,” he muttered, voice cracking, “how could you say that?”

           Sam mirrored the confusion noticeably present in Jack’s features. “Dean, why are you taking this so personally?”

           “Because, apparently,” Dean shouted at him, “you find me annoying!”

           “No more than I usually do,” Sam told Dean, “But that’s never bothered you before?”

           “Well, it’s pretty hard staying fucking unbothered when you think my sexuality is annoying.”

           “What?” Suddenly, something flashed behind Sam’s eyes, and the fog of bewilderment dissipated as pure rays of understanding shone from his smug expression and annoyingly struck Dean in the face. “Dean,” Sam sighed, “you… we’re not talking about gay people.”

           Dean snorted, “Of course you are. I’m not stupid.” Sam’s bitchy expression disagreed. “I’m hip, Sam. I know the lingo – better than you would, anyway… ‘ally’. Mlm… men loving men… What else could it be?”

           “Mlm is an acronym for multi-level marketing, Dean,” Sam explained, “that’s the kind of mlm we’ve been talking about this entire time.”

           “What?” Dean’s gaze bounced around the room, from Sam to Jack, then Cas, finally returning to Sam. “No, but I… the Internet, mlm is… it stands for…”

           “Things can have more than one meaning,” Cas supplied, appearing pained as he spoke, “especially acronyms.” He pressed a consolatory kiss upon Dean’s cheek, touch sparking a flame on his already burning skin. “It was nice to see how outspoken you’ve become, though.”

           “Yeah,” Sam agreed, “Like a modern-day Harvey Milk.”

           Dean refused to comment on Sam’s teasing, sinking into his seat again while his mind processed this new information. Cas joined him, continually rubbing soothing circles into his back. Sam sat next to Jack, across from them. Jack, sullenly tracing the cracks Dean made in his phone screen, asked, “Does this mean I’m not banned from TikTok?”

           “I just don’t get it,” Dean said, ignoring Jack’s question, “why would something that sounds boring like multi-level marketing even deserve its own acronym, let alone be banned from a whole app.”

           “Because it’s bad, Dean,” Sam explained, “multi-level marketing is, like, an evolved pyramid scheme, made more prevalent because of how easily social media disseminates misinformation and reaches impressionable people. Companies like TikTok are doing what they can to try and curb all these kinds of scams because, well… they’re annoying.”

           Adamant, Dean scowled and shook his head. “Mlm meaning that is what’s annoying.”

           “Too bad, Dean,” Sam said, “that’s probably the universally accepted meaning for it.”

           “No!” Dean said, “No, mlm is about gay people. It doesn’t have anything to do with scams.”

           Cas scoffed at Dean’s side, mumbling, “But what if scamming people is gay rights?”

           It was ridiculous, made in jest, and held no actual weight in a discussion, but Dean latched onto the throwaway line like it were the last life preserver on the Titanic. “You know what, Cas, you’re right!” he crowed, “Scamming is gay rights.”

           “It is?”

           “It should be,” Dean said, “I mean, do you know the number of times in my life I’ve scammed bigoted jerks for all they had? Scamming definitely feels like something that’s for gays only.”

           Sam rubbed his temples, battling an incoming migraine. “I don’t know why, but that take feels homophobic.”

           “Hush, Sam,” Cas told the other man, “I want to see where Dean goes with this.”

           Jack nodded, camera eclipsing his features. “Just let me hit record first, Dean. This could go viral.”

           Dean waited for the signal from Jack, a small thumbs up, and then he cleared his throat. “Okay, so here’s why scamming is a right for the gays and the gays alone…”

[kevindayscrown]

Why Kevin Day is the most in-depth character in the All For the Game series

An essay by a Kevin stan, so you know it's at least 70% biased

Hello, hello everyone, welcome to another session of me, brainwashing you about the amazingness of Kevin Day. In this short essay, I'll discuss how our number Queen asshole striker is, in fact, not just a whiney bitch, but one of the most key characters in the AFTG series. I'll also discuss how Nora pretty much did him dirty and how much I appreciate the fandom for doing him better.

I've decided that it will be much easier to take things chronologically, so I can delve deeper into what makes Kevin the character whose stans won't shut up about.

Unlike the rest of the characters in the series, Kevin started off in a somewhat stable family condition. He was brought up by his mother, Kayleigh, but still probably had to live with the title 'Son of Exy' from the moment he was born. We've all witnessed what being on the spotlight from a young age has done to child stars. Kevin, upon growing up, would start feeling the burden of a whole legacy created by his mother. Because Exy, despite being a bastard sport, has a large fanbase around the US, and possibly further - since it's mentioned that it's also an Olympic sport.

It wouldn't be a surprise that Kevin more than likely looked up to his mother and wanted to play Exy for her. Suddenly though, Keyleigh died in a car accident (if it was even a car accident; knowing the Moriyamas, it could had been done on purpose) and left Kevin in the care of Tetsuji Moriyama, the head of one of the yakuza's branches, and his now adoptive brother Riko.

Let's be honest, both of them were just kids. They only had each other, so it was really easy to get attached. Kevin has lost his mother at this point and Tetsuji is not exactly a proper father figure, so Kevin had to cling on Riko. Despite us seeing him in the main timeline being an asshole who snaps at everyone, his willingness to submit into the position of 'number 2' even if he's better than Riko, shows how much he depends emotionally on people. Riko and Kevin had to meet certain expectations, had fans from a very young age, and Neil even mentions that he literally witnessed Kevin grow up from media outlets and coverages. Kevin had to stick close to the only other person who's going through the same thing.

As a result, it was easy for Kevin to focus on what he's taught to believe; he should aim for the stars, he should be good, great, but never the best. Because Riko is the best. Kevin accepts that.

I hate how people call him a spineless coward just because someone mentions it once in the book. Kevin isn't like Neil. Neil was given a chance to escape. Kevin could never escape Evermore. Even if he did consider it his home, he was still abused on a daily basis. Riko mentions in Raven King, when he's about to torture Neil, that Neil is basically in the same position as Kevin once had been:

People forget that, Kevin probably had to live through what Neil did ever since Riko turned into his fucked up self. Which literally means years of physical and mental abuse, with no hope of escape but the bright future he had ahead of him. So what did Kevin do? He focused on playing.

Stop making Kevin all about being an Exy freak or an alcoholic. Kevin was so obsessed with Exy because it's the only thing he has ever known. He probably couldn't even drink before he escaped Evermore.

Imagine being torn between loving and clinging on the boy you once called brother because it's the only family you've known, and being hurt by him, again and again at a later age, having him shatter all you think you are good at. Riko didn't just break Kevin's hand. He almost took away from him all he thought he had left, and possibly the only way Kevin had of feeling close to his mother.

Kevin loses all he's ever known, and he blames himself for it at first because he thinks it's his fault that he even dared to show he could be better than Riko. He's in pieces and the only thing he does is to cling yet on another person. Aka Andrew. And somehow like this, we come back to the point about Kevin not only being far from an emotionless asshole, but actually being the most emotionally attached character in the series.

Entering the timeline of the books, Kevin appears as the epitome of a narcissistic asshole. It's fair for someone (as a reader) to not like him at first, when we don't know all that much about him. But as the story unravels, a clear distinction is made:

Kevin is not a narcissist. He's egocentric.

Kevin knows and truly believes he's the center of attention. Because, admittedly, he is. The books could had easily had Kevin as the protagonist. Like mentioned before, being raised on the spotlight, has had a tremendous impact on how he sees himself. He's obsessed with what image he's presenting to the public. I don't think he said 'being heterosexual is easier' without a reason. Kevin has led a life full of suppression. He can flash a 'press smile' for the cameras, he can snap and be cold at the Foxes, when in reality, he's suffering from severe PTSD, with panic attacks that he's handling in the worst way possible:

Alcohol. Why? Because the Foxes are all assholes and hypocrites. Don't get me wrong, I love them. But the fact that they just ignored Kevin everytime he had a panic attack and simply thrusted a bottle of vodka his way and called it a day? Inexcusable. Kevin needed a lot more than that.

Oh jeez, I wonder why he didn't tell Wymack he was his father all along.

If I see another person saying that Kevin was an ass for not telling Wymack straight up, I might slap a bitch. Do you think that Kevin would have been able to handle another rejection, another loss of a parental figure? All he did, was in self defense. Yes, it was selfish, but it was probably the only time in his life he could really make a choice on his own.

But you know what? Kevin overcame all this. Maybe and most probably not completely, he will never be able to wash away some stains, but he became more confident and emotionally independent. He detached himself both from Riko and from Andrew, and became the best striker in the history of Exy.

One of the reasons why I love Neil and Kevin - especially Kevin - is because their healing journeys are more fleshed out than Andrew's. But in this case, Kevin's was not really given the attention it deserved, it happened on the side lines and he had to do it alone. Neil had the foxes, had Wymack and Andrew. Kevin had no one, because the foxes, despite being assholes themselves, kept dismissing him and his problems. I really do believe that, in the first drafts when Kandreil was canon, Nora had potentially explored his character more. I wish we had gotten that instead of this sloppy attempt to squeeze in his ark along with Neil's.

I'll end this with some highlights that also showcase how badass Kevin is. He's a mess, but he does grow some spine when he finally becomes his own person:

Oof, if you actually read through this, thank you for tolerating my probably incoherent thoughts. I actually barely scratched the surface of my thoughts on Kevin's character but for now, this will do.

[takadasaiko]

Learn to be Patient (Superman & Lois one shot)

FFN II AO3

Summary: Lois knows she should be patient for news, but the longer Clark takes to respond to the stolen ELT, the more worried she gets. Set directly after 1.09.

---

Learn to be Patient

One of the strangest subconscious reactions to learning that Clark was really Superman had been the worry that crept in. Logically, Lois had known that his powers didn't suddenly appear or disappear with the donning of a red cape, but it had taken a while to truly accept it when he sped off into danger. To get to the place where she could either watch or report on the live news covering whatever villain he was going toe-to-toe with without the knot of fear tightening in her gut. Slowly but surely, and with more than a few missteps in between, she made it to an understanding that she held onto with everything inside of her: No matter who he faced, the man she loved would always come back to her.

Over the years it had become easier. There were moments, but there was also a steadiness, almost a rhythm that they fell into. Once she knew who he was, any explanation as to where he was going or what he was doing had to wait until he returned. He'd always let her know once the danger was dealt with. She had learned to be patient in a way that had felt impossible in the earliest days of their relationship. That patience had become a part of her.

Most days.

Not tonight, though. Tonight she was still reeling from nearly losing one son to Kryptonite poisoning of her father's own making and the other to people they knew that had somehow been brainwashed - possessed? That was still a terrifying question hanging out on the ledge of her mind - by Edge. The same people that had stolen her ELT that had sent Clark barreling up into the sky to tackle the problem head-on. She had been left with the boys to work through everything that had happened, and focusing on that had helped in its own way for a while.

Jonathan and Jordan had gone upstairs and Lois had been left alone in her damaged kitchen with no idea if it had been Kyle or Emily that had pressed that little red button or someone else entirely. The longer Clark was gone, the more she was afraid it was someone else. Someone with a better handle on their powers that might have found a way to get the upper hand with him suffering the lingering effects of the Kryptonite gas. The longer he was gone, the more the fear built and she hated that old knot twisting in her stomach that she thought she'd learned to let go of years before.

She had to be patient. She knew she had to be patient, and part of that came with keeping herself busy. She picked up some of the debris left from the fight and took a shower. She looked in on the boys who appeared to have crashed while talking about the days' events in Jordan's room and then she finally crawled into bed herself. Clark's side of the bed was painfully empty. She curled up on her side and reached out, fingers wrapping around the fabric of his pillow. "Clark," his name escaped her on a breath and she squeezed her eyes shut.

A familiar whoosh startled her and she found him standing just inside their room, fear in his eyes and cape settling behind him from the movement. "Are you alright? The boys okay?" he asked, voice more frantic than usual.

Lois managed a small nod. "Just worried. After everything and you were gone so long…" The words felt absurd and selfish as they tumbled out, but she could see the relief wash over him too.

"I had to update your dad. I should have called."

"It's okay. Do you need to-?"

"Nope. All done. I'm home."

"What happened?"

"Give me just a sec?"

Lois gave another small bob of her head and he was gone as quickly as he'd come. She heard the shower pop on for a few seconds and found herself wondering if, fast as he was, he'd given the water enough time to catch up with him to do any good. He reappeared a handful of seconds after that at the foot of the bed in a pair of pajama bottoms and he was running a towel through his damp hair. She cringed at the bruises that had faded against his chest, but hadn't disappeared. In fact…. She rocked forward to her knees, getting a closer look at the damage that had been left behind. "Are those new?"

Clark glanced down to the marks and frowned. "I think so." He tossed the towel towards the hamper, landing it in one shot, and fell back onto the bed with her. He loosed a long, tired-sounding breath and those otherworldly blue-green eyes fixed on her. "You want to wait until morning?"

He didn't, that much was evident from his tone, but he was giving her an out if she wanted to just curl up and fall asleep knowing they were both home and safe. "I won't be able to sleep until I know," she admitted softly.

"Might not be able to sleep after either," her husband grumbled and pushed himself up so that he was sitting with her. He leaned forward, elbows braced against his bent knees, and she could see more bruising along his bare back. Her fingers ghosted over the temporary damage and she could feel his muscles tense.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little," he admitted and she leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades. Finally, he seemed to relax just a little with that and he drew in a steadying breath. "Morgan Edge was the one that used your ELT."

"Edge himself? What, he didn't want to hide behind his super-powered army?" Clark turned to face her again and she saw a strange look in his eyes, almost haunted, and she felt the knot start to tense up as she pieced the clues together. "He has powers too, doesn't he?"

"He said he got them the same time I did."

Lois blinked hard at that statement. "What does that mean?"

"That he's Kryptonian. We were…. Evenly matched. I think he was a little stronger."

"Because of the gas?"

"I hope that's all."

"What did he want?"

Clark's shoulders sagged a little more and his gaze turned back to the far wall in front of them. "Me," he managed. "He wanted me to join him."

"I'm guessing the new bruises were his reaction to you telling him where he could shove it?" Lois tried for a tease. A quiet huff of a chuckle escaped him and she inched forward to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders. He leaned into her and together they eased back against the mattress, Lois holding onto him as he nestled a little closer. She could feel the intentionally gentle way that his fingers latched onto her t-shirt and her hand moved to stroke his dark hair in a soothing motion.

"That's my people," he breathed without looking up at her. "A megalomaniac that's willing to sacrifice living human beings to be replaced with the consciousness of a race that's been all but extinct for forty years in this universe and the echoes willing to use humans as living hosts. What does that say?"

The knot in Lois' stomach moved to her chest and it felt like it might squeeze her heart until it stuttered to a stop. "They're not all like. You're not like," she managed, voice trembling and she willed her hands steady as they held him. A multitude of possibilities flickered through her mind's eye, the worst including Edge standing over Clark's broken body, unwilling to be denied yet another thing he'd demanded of this world, and their boys would be next if he ever caught wind that there were two half Kryptonians living in Smallville. "He can't have you," she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I don't care if he's more powerful or if he buys up the whole damn world, this family…. he can't have us."

Clark shifted in her arms to look up at her. "I love you."

His words cut through the horrifying image, but Lois couldn't drag in the breath to answer him. So she did the next best thing as she inched down, pressing her lips against his in a desperate attempt to show him. She could taste her own tears even as he kissed her back, rolling so that he was on his back, Lois leaned over him. She broke the kiss, not able to go without air nearly as long as him, but didn't dare move far away. Instead she rested her forehead against his. "You know you're nothing like him, right?"

"Edge? Hope not. The only person I've seen you hate more is Lex Luthor."

She snorted a laugh. "I mean the other you. The one that destroyed Irons' world. You're nothing like him."

Clark loosed a sigh and Lois finally opened her eyes to find him looking at her. "I've read everything Irons left us on him and I've only found one real difference in all the articles."

"What's that?"

"He didn't have you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Neither am I."

That same steadiness that had helped her learn how to live this life with him filled the words. He would always come home to her. He would always come home to them.

Lois flashed a tired but real smile and pressed a quick kiss to his lips and rolled off of him to her side of the bed. "Glad we have that settled. I'm exhausted."

A soft chuckle echoed behind her and Lois felt her husband scoot closer until he was pressed against her back, one strong arm around her waist and she could feel his breath against the back of her neck. It had been a long, terrible day, but he was with her now, and when the sun rose, they'd face whatever Edge had to throw at them. They wouldn't let him take their family that they'd fought so hard for.

-----

End.

Notes: I stumbled across Superman & Lois after seeing a few very interesting things on social media. I don't think I've actively watched a Superman show since Lois and Clark way back in the day, so I wasn't prepared for the rabbit hole I was going to fall down. I'm absolutely obsessed with this take on a character that has been re-imagined so many times. The lens of family is what did it for me. The solid and healthy relationship Clark and Lois have (not perfect, but healthy), the complications with the twins, and all of the chaos that comes from it. It's beautifully crafted and brilliantly executed in a way I couldn't resist.

The problem is that I haven't watched any of the other DC shows in the Arrowverse very closely in years. I got through maybe 5 seasons of Arrow, a few episodes of Flash and Legends, and nothing of Supergirl or Batwoman when I started Superman & Lois. I did spot watch for episodes that Clark or Lois were in, but I think I only managed to confuse the crap out of myself with the colliding of universes that seemed to have taken place. I'm still unsure if this Clark and Lois even remember going to Argos in the other timeline or if that's faded like a dream at this point. Either way, I imagine that this Clark would feel heartbroken over the fact that the only members of his race left are acting as parasites to the planet that adopted him. The thought spiraled into my first little oneshot for the show. I do have another started to, so we'll see how that goes. Heaven knows I don't have time for fanfiction in a new fandom, but it's just too good to resist XD

[tristala]

To Distant Lands...

It has been quite a journey.

I have been a fan of Adventure Time for over ten years. But it wasn’t a great start.

Foolish 12 year old me disliked it at first glance just because I wasn’t used to the art style and didn’t take it seriously. I ignored it for almost a year. Then on one faithful day in my tutor’s house, I watched the newly aired episode Mystery Train with her kids.

I was... charmed by it. 

This new kind humor spoke to me and I... actually wanted to see more of it. Of course at first I was in denial for a bit but I got over that quickly. So from then on whenever I see it play on Cartoon Network I wouldn’t skip it anymore. I began to look forward to more episodes until I noticed that this series had an overarching plot.

The episodes that I thought were one-shot had purpose. Not all of them are great but they were satisfying for the most part. Like pieces of a puzzle being slowly formed over the years. When I got used to going online I started watch every single episode until I got to the latest. I would wait every week for a new one to drop.

Not everything was all sunshine and rainbows however. Around the mid seasons I thought that the plot was dragging, that the writing became pretentious in some episodes. I began to lose my love for it after 3 years by that point. So I just became a casual viewer.

It took 2 years for me to get back on going crazy over Adventure Time again and by then I was already 18 years old. But I was never ashamed by loving cartoons and my peers were also obsessed with this show so I had no problem getting back on track.

I know that they use storyboards to tell their stories and that writing was secondary. It’s a very risky way of creating a show. But for some reason it kind of works with a show Adventure Time. 

A world were the unpredictable happens, a world were your own imagination is the limit. 

The songs were always such a treat. They may sound simple but that’s what makes them so memorable and heartfelt. They capture the moments where the situations are laid out. The way they were made sounded on the spot and incorporated what the characters felt at the time has a touch of realism.

I will forever be astounded with the way they incorporated Jake’s powers. The ways the spells, the jokes and the characters work and being alive. The Land of Ooo has infinite possibilities. I love all of that jazz.

But what I love most about this show were the characters and their relationships. 

Sure they’re zany but the situations they find themselves in still felt real no matter how ridiculous they got. There were moments when everything suddenly just made sense and I just began to feel for them.

Marceline was a character that I felt infatuated with the first episode I saw her in. It was when she was ‘helping’ Finn ‘woo’ PB into going to movies with him. I was like “Who’s this vampire chick and why is she so fun?” 

Yeah I liked her, but I never thought that I would fall in love with the immortal known as The Vampire Queen.

Marceline is just a tragically beautifully written character. And the show has done something I never thought they would do: Address how being an immortal affected her and other people.  

This silly looking cartoon has tackled topics regarding existential crisis and put with a lot of thought on it and I live for that. What Marceline felt when she lost the people she loved over the years, how messed up her whole situation was. She didn’t know what to do and instead dedicated her life in killing vampires because she wanted to protect the memory of only one person she had left who couldn’t even be with her. It was so heartbreaking. 

Never had my younger self thought that Marcy would have relationship with Simon. When I saw the still image of them when I was about to watch Remember You I was psyched. Many scenarios were flowing in my head before I clicked the play button. I thought I was ready but I was so wrong. That episode was the first episode that made me cry watching this series. Afterwards I always looked forward to Simon and Marcy interactions. 

I felt the utter hopelessness when Simon was declining onwards to becoming the Ice King we’ve always seen but never really known. 

But even in his maniacal state, there was a semblance of the Simon who loved his Betty and Marcy with all his heart. It could be called hopeful but it could also be cruel. And that is the beauty of this tragedy.

Immortality will mess anyone up and they all cope it with different ways.

Princess Bonnibel Bubblegum is another immortal but had different priorities. She already had a goal set in mind and went through with it with almost no hesitation. She committed numerous acts with questionable morals in mind. She pushed everyone away and just focused on her kingdom. In her own way, she was winging it. 

Her way of thinking clashed with Marceline and it was all the wrong timing for them. Her closest friend’s care for strangers was already almost nonexistent and she herself was too stressed. 

In the process of finding their purpose and having the weight of responsibilities on their shoulders and just living, these two have lost themselves and are just so tired and broken.

This is one of the main reasons why I ship Bubbline. They are so different yet they understand each other in an unspeakable level. The lost moralities they had were slowly gained when they found each other. And it wasn’t even immediate. There were so many ups and downs with their relationship and it took them centuries to figure it out. Even in the present they’re still figuring it out but now they are healing and that’s what matters.

And let’s not forget the titular characters.

Finn and Jake’s brotherly bond is one of my most favorite things in all of the fictional media I have consumed. Because going through reincarnation together and being with each other for all eternity is literally the definition of their love not knowing any bounds.

Together Again was the perfect send off for Adventure Time. And while they’re brotherhood isn’t flawless like Jake not always being the best role model but he’s always there for his brother and Finn would do anything for the people he loves. They have went through so many things together, good and bad.

Their bond is unbreakable.

Finn’s breakdowns in losing his best friend was so painful to watch and I cannot help myself but cry for what these brothers have lost. I know people have to let go but maybe we don’t have to “let go” let go, you know? So imagine my surprise and delight when Jake decided to join his brother and said these very words:

“Because it’s great being alive with you.”

That sentence broke my soul into a million pieces and restored it at the same time. I just bursted into tears the second I heard that. It was so simple yet one of the most touching lines I have ever heard in my life.

This show had so much heart that it’s overflowing. The bonds that these characters have for each other. It has brought me so much tears of sadness and joy. It broadened my imagination for the unknown. The creativity of this series is absolutely outstanding.

I was the same age as Finn when the show started so you could say I grew up with him and the show. I wasn’t young enough for it to be a part of my childhood but it was there for me till I reached adulthood. And I think that it’s much better that way. It did help me grow up and let me see that there are a lot of things that while everything stays, they still change. 

Adventure Time’s had a lot of messages strewn over its seasons and always had a melancholic vibe to it. 

That’s life... and that’s okay.

It may get ugly and terrifying but Adventure Time has told me to just live. 

Sing, dance, cry and laugh. Something simple as hanging out with family and friends has so much meaning in the grand scheme of things. Life goes on and things will seem to be familiar yet foreign at the same time. Linger on nostalgia, but also appreciate what’s happening in the present and look forward to what will happen in the future.

I am so grateful to have been on this wonderful adventure.

Like what they always said: 

The fun never ends.

[roselovesa]

have you seen CHOI HYEJIN ? i heard SHE is a FLORIST at THE GREEN MEADOW. they’re 21 years old and they’ve been living in san verto for one year. they tend to be BENEVOLENT & MAGNANIMOUS, but rumor has it they can also be CAPRICIOUS & FINICKY. 

｡*    ❪       📂   𝐂://STATISTICS.

name: choi hyejin 

age: twenty - one

sign: pisces sun / libra moon ( click )

sexuality: bisexual

gender: cis woman ( she/her/hers )

occupation: florist , pianist, & composer 

alignment: chaotic neutral

｡*    ❪       📂   𝐂://BIOGRAPHY

* note: minho’s little sister !! <33 

📍   𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙾𝙽𝙴 - 𝚜𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚕, 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚔𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚊.

born   as   the   youngest   child   of   a   nurse  &   a   teacher,   hyejin’s   childhood   was   nothing   out   of   the   ordinary.   her   love   for   music   had   always   been   apparent   —  her   mother   noticing   early   on   that,   whenever   her   daughter   was   throwing   a   hissy   fit,   all   she   had   to   do   was   play   some   classical   music   in   order   to   get   her   to   calm   down

hence,   it   shouldn’t   have   been   a   surprise   that   her   father   decided   to   teach   her   how   to   play   the   piano   at   the   age   of   6.   &  by   the   age   of   9   she   was   labeled   a   child   prodigy.   hyejin   would   often   participate   in   competitions,   attend   music   camps,   &   play   in   front   of   anyone   who   was   willing   to   listen.   her   talent   was   undeniable,   truly

in   the   years   to   follow   she   would   pick   up   other   instruments   here   &   there   (   violin,   guitar,   french   horn   ),   but   nothing   seemed   to   stick   as   much   as   piano   did.   hyejin   would   also   dabble   in   writing   her   own   music,   often   with   the   help   of   her   father

&   if   there’s   one   thing   hyejin   learned   it’s   that   practice   makes   perfect.   by   the   age   of   11   she   managed   to   become   an   extremely   valuable   asset   for   her   school’s   yearly   musicals   as   she   composed   about   60%   of   the   songs   performed   <33

she   went   viral   on   social   media   a   few   times   as   well,   her   youtube   channel   accumulating   about   1.6M   views   by   her   4th   upload.   she   would   frequently   get   interviewed   around   that   time   as   well,   with   professionals   often   commenting   on   hyejin’s   bright   future

📍   𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚃𝚆𝙾 - 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝚄𝚂𝙰.

her   brother   getting   injured   on   tv   was   a   catalyst   of   change.   hyejin   convinced   her   parents   to   let   her   move   to   new   york   in   order   to   take   care   of   him,   being   well   aware   her   life   had   considerably   dulled   the   moment   he   decided   to   leave   a   few   years   prior

the   move   went   smoothly,   &   with   opportunities   lining   up   in   front   of   her,   she   decided   to   get   a   bachelor’s   degree   in   music   composition,   her   accomplishments   allowing   her   to   attend   one   of   the   most   prestige   universities   in   the   city

it’s   there   where   she   fell   in   love   with   a   guy   who   she   deemed   to   be   a   mentor   of   sorts  ;  always   pushing   her   to   do   better   &   achieve   unattainable   perfection.   it   had   been   so   easy   for   hyejin   to   trust   him   with   her   work,   with   him   appearing   to   be   the   more   experienced   &   wiser   of   the   two.   he   was   a   child   of   a   famous   musician   after   all,   mastering   the   arts   of   sweet   talking   unassuming   girls   with   a   whole   lot   of   empty   promises

so   when   their   uni   announced   a   proposal   of   a   student   being   able   to   apply   for   an   internship   that   would   skyrocket   their   careers   right   into   stardom,   hyejin   was   well   aware   this   was   an   opportunity   that   couldn’t   be   missed.   her   boyfriend   mentioned   how   he   wouldn’t   apply,   seeing   his   father   could   offer   him   a   job  easily,   but   mentioned   how   she   should   send   her   work   to   him   so   he   could   look   it   over   &  help   her   out

😬

“  hey   babe,   i’m   sorry   to   tell   you   this   but   the   piece   you   sent   me   just   isn’t   that   good…   i   can’t   quite   put   my   finger   on   it,   but   the   composition   is   just   wrong.   it’s   okay,   though,   you’re   only   a   freshman   &   still   have   a   lot   to   learn,   we’ll   work   on   it   together.   but   maybe   forget   about   the   internship   for   now   ?   i’m   sure   with   some   improvement   my   father   will   manage   to   get   you   an   even   better   job…   anyways,   love   you,   talk   to   you   soon   ”

crestfallen   &   humiliated,   hyejin   accepted   the   fact   that   it   would   be   simply   too   embarrassing   to   submit   the   sheets   of   music   she’d   written.   it   was   two   weeks   later   that   her   boyfriend   abruptly   ghosted   her,   only   for   her   to   find   out   he’d   gotten   the   internship   by   applying   with   the   composed   music   she   sent   him.   he   denied   any   claims   of   stealing,   &   when   hyejin   told   her   professor   about   the   situation   he   basically   wrote   it   off   as   well

📍   𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴: 𝚜𝚊𝚗 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚘, 𝚄𝚂𝙰.

in   the   next   few   months   it   felt   like   her   life   had   crumbled   down   around   her,   hyejin’s   future   career   appearing   grim.   minho   &   her   decided   to   move   to   san   verto   in   order   to   find   peace,   a   fresh   start   waiting   for   them   there

she   took   up   multiple   side   jobs   to   get   her   music   out   there   again,   while   also   trying   to   push   past   the   writer’s   block   she   experienced   due   to   stress.   on   week   days   she   would   give   rich   kids   piano   lessons   after   uni   &   bloom   under   the   praises   their   parents   would   give   her   skills.   on   the   weekends   she   would   play   at   a   5   star   restaurant,   hoping   the   right   people   would   discover   her   there

having   lost   the   comfort   music   once   gave   her,   hyejin   decided   to   take   up   a   job   as   a   florist   &   keeps   herself   busy   tending   to   flowers.   it   isn’t   her   ideal   career   plan,   but   at   least   she’s   moving   forward   with   her   life

throughout   the   years   she   kept   uploading   videos   of   her   playing   piano   on   youtube,   each   video   getting   about   900k   views   on   average.   it   allows   her   to   be   fairly   recognizable   on   her   own   accord,   although   most   of   her   fame   comes   from   being   associated   with   her   brother.   she’s   starting   to   climb   in   popularity,   though,   spending   some   of   her   time   to   focus   on   crafting   a   stronger   social   media   presence

｡*    ❪       📂   𝐂://PERSONALITY.

🦋   𝙰𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙻𝙾𝙶𝚈 - 𝚜𝚞𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚜, 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊

click me !

empathic,   romantic,   impressionable,   &   imaginative   -   hyejin   tends   to   see   the   world   through   a   rose   colored   glass  ;   the   harsh   realities   of   life   often   making   her   want   to   indulge   in   escapism.   overall   a   generous   and   kind   person

can’t   handle   pressure   well,   ultimately   she’s   a   perfectionist.   hyejin   has   a   specific   vision   of   how   she   wants   her   life   to   play   out,   &   if   anything   interferes   with   that   she   might   feel   devastated   &   defeated.   however,   she’s   quick   to   get   back   on   her   feet   &  continue   pursuing   what   she   was   working   on

obsessed   with   fairytale   romances,   used   to   read   countless   of   young   adult   novels   hoping   she’d   experience   love   like   that.   hyejin   easily   tends   to   romanticize   &   idealize   the   people   she’s   fond   of,   thinking   they   can   do   no   wrong   in   her   eyes   &   putting   them   on   a   pedestal   *coughs* minho :( 

despite   all   of   that   she   has   a   great   intuition,   hypersensitive   to   her   environment.   she’s   often   aware   of   other   people’s   emotions,   meaning   when   someone   or   something’s   off   she   usually   able   to   identify   such   things   immediately

would   prefer   to   avoid   conflict   at   all   cost   as   well,   she   doesn’t   enjoy   being   faced   with   consequences   of   her   own   actions

at   first   glance   she   can   appear   rather   stand-offish   as   well,   not   really   the   type   to   walk   up   to   someone   &   handle   small   talk   in   an   eloquent   way.   she’s   shy   &   an   introvert,   the   type   to   hide   behind   her   mother   whenever   someone   addressed   her   when   she   was   younger.   hyejin   is   only   able   to   come   out   of   her   shell   around   people   she   knows   she   can   trust

channels   all   of   her   feelings   into   her   art  !!

｡*    ❪       📂   𝐂://WANTED CONNECTIONS.

💌   𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙲 - 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜   (   open to m/f/nb muses !   )

current   flings  

will   they   /   won’t   they  

friends   with   benefits   (   one-sided,   purely   platonic,   etc…   )  

unrequited   love   type   of   thing   (   either   hyejin   or   your   muse  )  

fake   dating   au  

exes   on   bad   terms  

exes   on   good   terms  

enemies   to   friends   (   ?   )   to   lovers   /   flings   (   ?   )   to   exes   (   ?   )   (   we   can   do   this   however   you   see   fit   !   )

one   of   them   caught   feelings  (  thinking   they   had   something   special  )   &   suddenly   the   other   ghosted,   perhaps   leaving   behind   a   bruised   ego   )  

💌   𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙾𝙽𝙸𝙲 - 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜   (   open to m/f/nb muses !   )

best   friend  

good   influence  

bad   influence  

childhood   friends  

protective   type   of   friendship   (   can   go   either   way   !   )  

confidants  

someone   (   preferably   an   artist   )  hyejin   looks   up   to  

friends   who   hang   out   purely   because   it’s   good   for   their   public   image  

secret   type   of   friendship   where   being   seen   together   in   public   would   damage   their   image,   aka   them   meeting   up   in   private   !  

were   set   up   on   a   blind   date   together,   hit   it   off   in   a   platonic   way   &   became   really   good   friends   <33  

only   hang   out   because   of   mutual   friends

💌   𝙼𝙸𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙻𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙴𝙾𝚄𝚂 - 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜   (   open to m/f/nb muses !   )

hyejin’s   muse   aka   whenever   she   sees   them   she   gets   inspired   to   write   a   song   or   two   <3  

blackmailing   type   of   plots  

general   dislike   for   each   other,   they   simply   do   not   vibe  

someone   hyejin   teaches   how   to   play   piano  

rivalry,   they   see   each   other   as   competition  

have   shared   secret   where   both   of   them   are/were   involved   in   a   situation,   &  promised   secrecy   to   each   other

@foolsstarters​ 

[devinetheory-2]

I found this unnervingly accurate and fascinating.

Things Narcissists Do When They Think No One Is Looking ..

1 – Go through your personal things

2 – Create numerous dating profiles

3 – Try to get in touch with their exes on social media

4 – Visit websites of very dubious merit. KIK Skype etc.

5 – Try to turn your family and friends against you

6 – Plant spyware on your devices or install hidden cameras etc.

7 – Sabotage your finances

8 – Spy on you

9 – Flirt with your best friend (or even your adult children)

10 – Plan secret rendezvous with their side-supply

11 – Hoover old sources of supply (a.k.a., their exes)

12 – Pave the way for their next relationship

If you’ve been in a relationship with someone you suspect is a narcissist, there has likely come a time when you developed a burning desire to know the things narcissists do when they’re by themselves.

If we’re to be sophisticated about it, we must consider that like other citizens of society, they engage in activities that are conducive to maintaining a certain level of livelihood.  Things like going to work, having their cars serviced, and going to doctor’s appointments.

But apart from those harmless undertakings, things turn rather bleak.

Narcissists rarely ever admit to it, but all your worst fears regarding your relationship are playing out just underneath the radar of your awareness.

You know that ever-present, vague sense of dread you have in the pit of your stomach, wondering if they’re lying or telling the truth?  That’s your intuition, which can cause physical sensations in the body.

Our “gut feelings” are called that for a reason — research suggests that emotion and intuition are very much rooted in the “second brain” in the gut.  In fact, Michael Gershon, professor and chair of pathology and cell biology at Columbia, says, “The gut can work independently of any control by the brain in your head—it’s functioning as a second brain.  It’s another independent center of integrative neural activity”.

But don’t take my word for it.  You can read all about it on Psychology Today in an article titled, Your Backup Brain.

My job here is to give you a breakdown of what the narcissist in your life – employing very specific techniques of psychological depravity – does when they think no one is looking. Hidden secrets that would literally bring you to your knees…

Here, I map out thirteen of the most common things narcissists do when they think no one is looking.  The possibilities on this topic are endless, but the following is a sampling of the ones I’m most familiar with, some of which I personally experienced. 

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Things Narcissists Do When They Think No One Is Looking ..

1 – Go through your personal things

Narcissists are constantly doing things that they will eventually be confronted with.  Therefore, they spend inordinate amounts of time trying to dig up the most minuscule piece of incriminating evidence against you so that they will have ammunition when they are finally caught.

Many times, what they find “incriminating” is just a figment of their imagination or something entirely fabricated.  For example, I used to work in the banking industry for years before I left to become a teacher and, later, to create this space for narcissistic abuse recovery.

As a bank employee, I wore suits which required me to wear pantyhose.  One day, I accidentally tore a hole in a pair of them and discarded them in the trash.  My ex, during his regular “dirt diving” practice, found them and confronted me with them, accusing me of having been unfaithful.

Of course, he was entirely wrong, but you can probably imagine how it turned out.

Long story short, narcissists engage in sneaky, underhanded behaviors every day. In many cases, they think other people are like them, but just better at hiding it.  In others, they simply want to have something to throw in your face when you discover they’re still doing ‘that thing’ they promised you they would stop doing.

A general exception to this shady practice is the cerebral narcissist, who uses their intelligence to lord over others.  They think most people are simpletons who don’t have anything interesting going on in their lives, except, of course, other academics and scholars whom the cerebral narcissist is insanely jealous of.

2 – Create numerous dating profiles

Not all narcissists cheat, but most of them do.  The ones who don’t tend to be of the “cerebral” ilk and simply do not enjoy having intimate relations with other people.

But if the narcissist you know is attractive, extroverted, and likes being the center of attention, it is very likely they are doing things you would be horrified to learn about.

To the narcissist, seducing people is another tool for manipulation, control, exploitation, and destroying the self-esteem of their partner(s).  In most cases, there’s serial cheating, withholding affection, degrading requests, verbal assaults, and addiction to off-color websites.

Or, on the opposite end of the spectrum, they’re so skilled in the bedroom that their partners often stay in the abusive relationship because they’ve never had it so good, which creates a twisted dynamic leading to self-loathing, guilt, and shame.

At any rate, narcissists have a track record of being serial cheaters.  This explains why they generally have their cell phones on lockdown, leave the room when certain calls come in, and are oddly obsessed with a text exchange as you’re sitting down to dinner during your anniversary.

If you’ve caught them doing this, don’t be fooled by their seeming attempt to earn back your trust.  It doesn’t matter if they let you go through their phone if they’ve secured a secret line behind your back.

If it feels weird, you’re probably onto something.  Don’t ignore your gut on this one.

3 – Try to get in touch with their exes on social media

Imagine this scenario.  You’re sitting at your work desk and decide to call your partner (whom you suspect is a narcissist) to check in and get a feel for how things are going.  They seem fairly friendly and the two of you make plans for dinner and a movie that night.  You hang up feeling relieved and begin to think your recent arguments were probably just normal relationship issues.  You feel slightly elated thinking about how the evening will unfold.

The narcissist, however, hangs up and goes back to liking their ex’s Facebook and Instagram photos.  The two of you have been arguing a lot lately (due to their relationship crimes), so they have to line up another source or two of narcissistic supply to have as a backup for when you finally come to your senses and give them the much-needed boot.

Moral of the story?  Never trust that the narcissist will be a decent person.  Ever.

4 – Visit websites of very dubious merit.

Webcam sites, porn, KiK, Snapchat, Tubmblr etc.

Since the media powers-that-be are now filtering and blocking certain terms and phrases, I am unable to express the exact terminology I’d like to use here, but, suffice it to say that many narcissists, when alone, spend hours on various websites of very dubious merit.

Sites that would break your heart and devastate you for weeks on end if you’re in a romantic relationship with them.

If you have discovered your narcissistic partner has been visiting such sites, you can bet with 99% certainty that he or she also has online dating profiles and is probably hooking up with other people behind your back.  At the very least, they are likely engaging in things via the internet with people they’ve met online that would make you feel unwell.

5 – Try to turn your family and friends against you

Contrary to popular belief, the narcissist’s smear campaign doesn’t begin just after your breakup.  In many cases, it’s been alive and well for some time.  You just weren’t aware of it.

The reason everyone now runs in the opposite direction from you or, at the very least, looks at you with a raised eyebrow, is that the narcissist has been smearing your reputation since before the relationship even ended.  The two main reasons for this are:

All relationships are doomed in the narcissist’s mind and they want to get a running start on assassinating your character.

They assume you will vent to people in your shared social circle and want to ensure they cut you off at the pass so you will look unstable when you muster the courage to start talking about your experiences.

These actions are to preserve the false image they’ve portrayed all along.  Unfortunately, they’re often very successful at doing this.  If your friends or family have suddenly started pulling back or questioning your judgement, the narcissist has likely planted the seeds of doubt in their minds.  If they openly side with the narcissist when you begin sharing your relationship struggles, it’s time to start whittling down your inner circle.

6 – Plant spyware on your devices or install hidden cameras in your shared residence

This can happen a few different ways.

If you’re dealing with a narcissist, don’t assume they aren’t smart enough to track you using your devices.  I’ve seen this assumption come crashing down around people’s ankles more times than I’d like to admit.

One common method that abusers use to legally track you is by using the geolocation services built into all smartphones; if you know, or can guess, the password to someone’s cloud account, you can follow their movements via the software designed to find lost or stolen phones that comes installed on many devices.   Many times, the abuser sets up a cloud account for the person they want to track, giving them full access to their target’s location at any moment.

If you suspect you’re dealing with a narcissist, don’t accept a phone from them that they’ve set up for you using their cellular account.  If you do, you can assume they’ve set it up to track you.

Another way abusers can keep tabs on you is by installing spyware on your electronic devices.  Some of these spyware can be installed remotely.  It’s somewhat more difficult to install spyware this way than it used to be, but it still happens.

Most spyware is designed to track not only your location but also monitor your calls, voicemails, texts, and emails – and even watch you using the camera on your device.

7 – Sabotage your finances

I’ve lost count of the number of people I’ve worked with in my coaching practice who’ve been financially devastated because they gave in to the narcissist’s seemingly genuine requests to give them access to their accounts.make you feel unwell.

They may have loaned you money or paid for a big-ticket item at some point to make you believe they are generous, but it was only to instill in you a sense of obligation in preparation for the debilitating shaft you’d get from them later.

Another scheme that falls into this category is their asking for your support while they are unemployed. These schemes are all designed to “break the seal” in the area of financial matters so they can take shocking liberties later, such as:

Getting loans in your name

Taking out a second mortgage on your home without your knowledge

Not paying IRS taxes, resulting in your possible confinement in jail

Expecting you to pay for everything while they save their own money for themselves

Forcing you to get all the utilities and insurances in your name so you’ll have to pay for them all

…and so on and so forth.

If you’ve been having problems in your relationship and believe your partner is a narcissist, it would be in your best interest to avoid mingling your finances in any way.  If you already have, start a secret account and begin adding money to it whenever you can.  Have your statements delivered to a family member’s address.

Prevent narcissistic financial abuse early by stashing away money when you can and refusing to put your name on any legal documents with them.

8 – Spy on you

We already covered spyware and tracking apps that narcissistic abusers can use to keep tabs on your whereabouts in #6.

However, many narcissists will literally stalk you so they can see what you do when they’re not with you.

While legal definitions of stalking vary from one jurisdiction to another, a good working definition of stalking is unwanted or obsessive attention by an individual toward another person through the carrying out of behaviors intended to frighten, distress the victim, and/or instill a sense of guilt and hopelessness in the victim (which often leads to learned helplessness).  Stalking behaviors are related to harassment and intimidation and usually include following the victim (in person) and monitoring them.

According to Lamber Royakkers, author of The Dutch Approach to Stalking Laws (California Criminal Law Review 3, October 2000):

“Stalking is a form of mental assault, in which the perpetrator repeatedly, unwantedly, and disruptively breaks into the life-world of the victim, with whom they have a current relationship or a recent one. Moreover, the separated acts that make up the intrusion cannot by themselves cause the mental abuse, but do taken together (cumulative effect).”

Disruptions in daily life that are necessary to escape a stalker can include changes in employment, residence, and phone numbers.   Many targets of stalking have had to move to another country and basically go into hiding.

Many of my coaching clients have been stalked by their narcissistic partners.  Stalking behaviors carried out by narcissists can include:

Constant texts, emails, and phone calls

Frequent, unwanted deliveries of gifts, cards, and flowers

Constantly driving by your home

Showing up at your place of employment or favorite hangout

Spreading rumors or publishing personal information about you on social media

Cyberstalking

Using social media to follow and friend your social media followers and friends in order to keep an eye on you

Installing spyware on your computer or cell phone

Finding out about you by using public records or online search services, hiring investigators, going through your garbage, or contacting friends, family, neighbors, or co-workers

Using technology, like hidden cameras or global positioning systems (GPS), to track where you go

Threatening to hurt you, your family, friends, or pets

Stalking is often mistaken as hoovering in that once a source of supply expresses a desire to end the relationship, the narcissist refuses to give up their power by forcing themselves into the victim’s world through harassing, following, and monitoring.

Stalking is a common behavior of narcissists when a source of supply tries to initiate No Contact.  When stalking begins, the victim typically has a clearer picture of what kind of person the narcissist is…which is why they want to go No Contact in the first place.

If you believe you are being stalked, you should avoid downplaying the issue as it will only get worse over time.  You may have to take protective measures to secure your sense of peace, privacy, and security.

9 – Flirt with your best friend (or even your adult children)

When it comes to narcissistic cheaters, no one is off-limits.  In fact, narcissists often derive a twisted sense of accomplishment if they can get your loved one interested in them, like your best friend or adult child.

So, imagine you’re at work and it’s the narcissist’s day off.  You think everything is relatively calm and feel a spark of emotional safety.  Then, you get a call from your best friend and they give you the very unsettling news that the narcissist has made a pass at them.

If you’re best friend is truly loyal, they will tell you about this the moment it happens.

But in some cases, the flirting continues while remaining a secret.  Maybe your friend has experienced a string of failed relationships.  Or they’ve recently gone through a difficult divorce.  Vulnerability makes a person a prime target in the narcissist’s mind and this may well include your best friend.

My best advice?  Never trust the narcissist alone with your friends or family members.

10 – Plan secret rendezvous with their side-supply

Speaking in very general terms, when a narcissist has an out-of-town trip planned, whether for work or for their third cousin’s wedding, there is a strong likelihood that they will meet their side supply there or even take him or her with them.

Narcissists are creatures of economy and rarely pass up an opportunity to groom supply.  In fact, the narcissist could well be dubbed The Constant Gardner because they are perpetually trolling for and grooming new targets, even though they always have a main source of narcissistic supply.  Furthermore, they are continuously ending relationships for various reasons, especially with those who require a lot of “maintenance” (i.e. normal human interactions) or have stopped giving them money or other fringe benefits.  Therefore, they must fill in the gaps left by those they’ve discarded by securing new supply sources.

Those work trips the narcissist always goes on?  They could very well be genuine, but don’t be surprised when the new supply calls you, asking who you are and what you’re doing calling the narcissist!

11 – Hoover old sources of supply (a.k.a., their exes)

Narcissists typically don’t let go of their exes completely (unless their exes completely let go of them).  They’ve been known to contact old flames out of the blue, sometimes as long as ten years post-breakup!

Not all narcissists do this, but most do.  When a person has passed the litmus test for being “good supply”, narcissists literally can’t help themselves and will often reach out in an attempt to resurrect old relationships (albeit, one-sided ones).

This explains why you may have noticed how the narcissist in your life likes to remain “friends” with their exes or wants you to be friends after your relationship has ended.

It gives them an ‘in’ if they ever need to cycle back around.

12 – Pave the way for their next relationship

You’ve probably read a hundred times how narcissists leave relationships and then swan dive right into a new one.

Maybe this happened in the aftermath of your own relationship with a narcissist.

The main reason this happens is because narcissists don’t bond with people.  Not romantically, not traumatically (at least, not for them), nor matrimonially.  We from these bonds with narcissists, but they are not able to form emotional bonds with us due to their true lack of empathy and inability to attach to others.

Another reason narcissists are able to form relationships so quickly is that, any many cases, the relationship isn’t so new.  If you’ll remember from earlier, narcissists are always combing for fresh sources of narcissistic supply.  Because of this, most narcissists are perpetually in various stages of relationship with other people, from the shiny, newbie supply to those who are enduring varying levels of the narcissistic abuse cycle.

Therefore, when they showcase the new supply on their social media accounts, it’s usually not someone they’ve just met, though narcissists are often very skilled in making it appear so.

13 – Emotional abuse of partners and spouses

If you’ve ended a romantic relationship with a narcissist, you probably saw them out and about, loving up on the new partner and seemingly having the best time of their life.  You see them flashing an engagement ring on social media and sending out ‘save the date’ notifications, broadcasting how silly in love they are and giggling about how they feel like a couple of teenagers.

Your first reaction might be to (stunningly) wonder what this new person has that you don’t.  Just maybe, the narcissist had been right about you all along.  Perhaps you really ARE the reason your relationship with them didn’t work out.

Then, you feel completely disabled by the seeming about-face the narcissist has made with the new supply, sending you into a depression so deep you can barely get through the day.

This is just another phase of the narcissistic abuse cycle and applies to you the same as it does everyone else.  The narcissist you know is no different from the others.  As personal and unique as it all may feel, it’s just another blueprint narcissistic manipulation.

When you see this happening, it’s crucial not to take it personally.  This is one of the narcissist’s favorite times, when they are love-bombing new supply while simultaneously making you feel like discarded trash.  The narcissist can’t help but gloat over how they’re able to make you feel emotionally destroyed, left to pick up the pieces while they’re off living their life as though your history together means nothing.

What you’re not thinking about is how the new supply will be subject to the same emotional abuse that you’ve endured.  There are no exceptions to this.  Don’t listen to the new trend of so-called professional advice which states that narcissists are only abusive towards YOU because your personality is incompatible with theirs, which is on my list of ‘Stupid Sh*t Therapists Say’.

Narcissists are abusive towards everyone.  Regardless of status, ethnicity, intelligence, religious beliefs, or how tiny their waist is.  The new supply simply won’t be spared, unfortunately.

Dealing with a narcissist

Healing From the Trauma of Narcissistic Abuse

It’s absolutely crucial to come to terms with the unsettling things narcissists do when they think no one is looking so you can make educated decisions for your future and your wellbeing.

Don’t let yourself fall into a false sense of security because the narcissist knows what to say to soften your defenses and make you doubt your judgement.  Pay attention to patterns because patterns don’t lie.

With the right support, you’ll be shocked how amazing it feels when you can flourish on the other side of abuse and heal your life in ways you never

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste, ch. 8

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Luka Couffaine, Lila Rossi/karma, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/aneurism, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Kagami Tsurugi, Plagg & Tikki

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi’s Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste’s Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi’s Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we’re all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone’s well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila’s brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: The Parentification Computation

Notes:  Luka’s characterization is somewhat based on a conversation with some folks  about the possibility of Luka having Atlas personality due to parentification, which is basically the impact when a child has to act as a parent, sometimes to their own parent but also to their siblings.

AO3 link

Chapters 1-2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

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Adrien had felt a bit guilty when he took advantage of the rush to return to the suite to disappear to transform—he knew they’d worry, since the Akuma was likely going to look for him, but he had to help Ladybug defeat it.

The Akuma sucked the color and joy out of whatever it touched, the power turning into clothing and accessories that resembled Luka’s. It made an odd amount of sense, if the Akuma was a fan upset by Adrien’s fake relationship. So far it had leather pants, ornate boots, a leather jacket, kohl around its eyes, black fingernails, and hair that was black with… rainbow tips?

As Chat Noir got closer, he realized he recognized the person under all that.

“Wayhem?”

The Akuma turned toward him, face contorted in a sneer. “That’s Fade-Out to you! No one else can be happy until I am! Give me your Miraculous!”

He’d figured it was a fan, but had never imagined Wayhem would be the one, that he’d harbored feelings like that for Adrien. He’d been completely blind to it. What else had he been blind to?

Chat barely dodged when Fade-Out tried to grab him, then was pulled out of danger by Ladybug’s yoyo.

“I think the Akuma is in his glove,” she said as Fade-Out tried to find a way up to them.

When Chat peered, he could see on his right hand was a black fingerless motorcycle glove; embossed on the back was Adrien’s face. It was probably the face from his life-size cardboard cut-out he’d signed for Wayhem after he’d acted as Adrien’s body-double when Gorilla was Akumatized.

“So I need to let him get close enough to touch me, make sure I hit the glove.”

Ladybug frowned. “It’s too risky. Let’s see what we get with Lucky Charm!”

A red-and-black postless pillory fell into her arms, and she grimaced at it.

“I guess we need to immobilize him?” Chat asked.

Ladybug sighed. “You know my Lucky Charms aren’t that simple, chaton.”

She glanced around, seemingly looking for an answer, then pointed at a road sign, the one to rue du Chat-qui-Pêche, the smallest street in Paris—or, rather, the narrowest.

“The pillory will just barely fit in there, and with the drainpipes…”

Chat grinned. “Shall we pillory an Akuma, m’Lady?”

It took less than a minute of cat puns to get Fade-Out chasing him, and the moment the Akuma was in the alley, Ladybug snapped the pillory around his neck. His forward motion was halted so abruptly when it caught on a drainpipe that he lost his feet and wound up with his hands splayed on the pavement. Chat was able to Cataclysm the glove quickly and with no danger.

Then it was just a matter of Ladybug purifying the Akuma, unlatching the pillory, and tossing it in the air to release the Miraculous Cure, and Wayhem was on his hands and knees in the tiny street.

Once they’d fist-bumped, Chat turned her way. “I’ll handle the young man—I’ve more time before I detransform.”

Ladybug smiled and nodded, then yoyoed away.

Wayhem was staring up at him in dawning horror. “Oh, no. I was Akumatized?”

Chat offered him a hand. “Yeah. You okay?”

Once on his feet, Wayhem leaned against the wall with a sigh. “It’s so dumb. I was just a little jealous. I didn’t— Well, there’s this guy who’s a model, Adrien Agreste?”

He nodded, figuring he was expected to.

“Well, I was a ridiculous fanboy for a while, and kinda obsessive, and then he asked for my help when he was targeted by an Akuma. We became friends. And he… well, he just announced he has a boyfriend.”

Wayhem winced, rubbing his neck, his expression embarrassed.

“I didn’t even know… that was an option.”

Chat patted his shoulder; he felt badly that Wayhem had gotten caught up in this, but it was over and done with—and Adrien wouldn’t go back and fake-date Lila even knowing this.

“Honestly, maybe it wasn’t, though. You don’t know how he met his boyfriend or the circumstances,” he finally offered.

“I know.” Wayhem sighed. “It was just a moment of disappointment, you know?”

“And Hawkass took advantage.” Chat offered him a smile. “Just try to be happy for your friend, then. There’s someone out there for you.”

That got a little smile, just as the Miraculous beeped at him.

“That’s my cue to skiddoo!”

He gave the boy a little salute and was gratified when he got the same back, then he vaulted away, back toward the hotel.

Once he found a place to detransform and give Plagg some cheese, he snuck in and back to the suite, only to find Luka in the midst of pacing, Marinette and Penny looking concerned, and Jagged looking a bit irate.

When Luka saw him, he immediately stopped, and something in the older boy’s body language eased. It struck Adrien suddenly that Luka had been worried, something he hadn’t figured would happen.

“Sorry, wound up getting stuck downstairs. Figured I’d stay put until the Ladyblog put out the all clear.”

“Same thing happened to me,” Marinette offered.

Luka dragged his fingers through his hair. “It’s fine. These things happen.”

Jagged snorted. “You’re not fine, kid. You’re a bloody mess. Practically chewed all the polish off his nails. It was like when Penny misplaces me, only worse.”

“I don’t misplace you,” she muttered. “You wander off and terrorize people with Fang.”

A glance at Luka’s nails confirmed Jagged’s words, though. Most of his black nailpolish was gone.

“Oh. Well, we can get the spa folks up again. I kind of want mine done, too,” Adrien commented.

Luka frowned, then nodded. “Sorry… I just… I’m responsible for Juleka, and you both went missing, and the Akuma attack, and…”

Marinette stood, putting a hand on his arm. “Hey. You’re not responsible for me, or for Adrien.”

“But I’m his boyfriend now.”

Adrien blinked. “Is that how it works?”

Maybe it was—sometimes in movies and TV shows that was how it worked.

“No.” Penny’s voice was almost deadly. “That’s not how it works. You’re not his caregiver.”

Luka looked uncertain, like he was ready to argue.

Jagged scowled at him. “Nope, kid. I know Anarka’s a free spirit, but you’re not responsible for the world.”

Marinette offered Luka a hesitant smile. “You’ve got an independent boyfriend, Luka.”

The smile Luka attempted back looked very feeble.

“I’m sorry I worried you, Luka,” Adrien said, scratching the back of his head anxiously. “Most of the time my father keeps me shut in my room and forgets about me. So I didn’t think to let you guys know… but I didn’t have my phone on me, either. Whoops.”

Jagged turned the scowl on Adrien. “Okay, that’s gotta be addressed, too. So not okay. Social media blitz.”

Penny gestured to the computer. “You have a picture to post, anyway. Might as well fire some shots while you’re at it.”

Marinette and Luka exchanged a dark look, and then Luka drew himself up. “Okay. Your dad’s an asshole. Let’s air some dirty laundry?”

Adrien grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

[airquietworks]

How Izuku Learned to Stop Worrying and Enjoy Being in Love (IzuOcha Oneshot)

Summary: Izuku Midoriya is struggling in his newfound romance with Uraraka. He continues to stumble when he is with her as nerves get the best of him. He wonders how he can get better at love but the answers he's searching for are closer to his heart than he thinks.

Izuku Midoriya considered himself a man of many failings.

As he idly scrawled in a small pink notebook before class, he could not help but reflect on those inadequacies. He was not always as strong as he needed to be. He still struggled in a lot of social situations. He could lose control of himself when it came to his hero obsession.

But more than any of those, he hated that he had no idea how to be a good boyfriend.

It was not for a lack of trying. He had dedicated a lot of time studying the subject, dedicating the whole pink notebook to it. Every piece of advice that far too many people had bestowed upon him was carefully recorded, from strategic romantic lines to subtle romantic movements. It was all in the vain hope he could decipher the bizarre machinations - and palpitations - of his own heart.

And much more importantly, Uraraka's.

Izuku had few troubles facing down villains with lives on the line. But facing down the greatest woman he had ever met to woo her on a semi-regular basis was proving to be far more challenging than your average ne'er-do-well.

"Heya, Deku. Whatchya working on?"

"NOTHING, NOTHING DON'T LOOK!" the boy screeched as he leapt upward to stare into the person of his affections. Uraraka hovered over his desk, eyes left blinking at his sudden outburst.

His face burned; he would sooner face Todorki's flames than this kind of heat.

"Oh, okay then. That's fine," Uraraka replied with a tight-lipped smile, completely inscrutable.

"It's just...it's something particular and really rough and kind of private I'm sorry it's not you it's me and I really want to-"

"Good morning class. To your seats," Mr. Aizawa ordered loudly as he grumpily entered their homeroom. The students quickly acquiesced, Uraraka included, as she moved to take her desk near the back of Class 3-A.

"Talk after class," she whispered as she turned her back to him.

Izuku breathed a deep sigh, resisting the temptation to leap out of the room.

Boyfriend. Girlfriend. The words still felt strange bouncing around in his head. The past few weeks had been chaotic. Having Uraraka ask him out. Having an awkward but wondrous first date. Having a first, terrifying, glorious, first kiss. Carefully exchanging their first utterances of "I love you." Riding out the highs and lows of a hormone-driven storm, as young lovers did.

Neither of them had much experience but they worked it out, mostly.

But as fall gave way to the start of winter, the fires of their newfound romance were quickly extinguished under an avalanche of schoolwork and their own nerves. Their easygoing friendship of two years was now fraught with this new element hanging ominously over everything. It seemed their every interaction somehow ended up the same - him blurting out something stupid, or something else going terribly wrong before they both retreated to safer spaces.

He did not regret dating Uraraka - something he had not realized he really, really wanted. But it made everything between them a lot more difficult to manage.

They were burning, passionate people. They cared about one another. But so often, figuring out their relationship under the scope of romantic social conventions made their interactions more glacial than they had been in a long time.

A part of him longed for the more easygoing days. Surely, they could get back to that. Love should not be this hard - or frightening.

"Midoriya?"

Izuku snapped upwards to attention at his teacher's question. He stared straight ahead at Aizawa's unimpressed grimace. He must have zoned out harder than he thought.

He could hear a few giggles buzzing around his ears.

"Sorry, what was that?" Izuku asked quickly, hoping he could wing whatever response was necessary.

Aizawa gave him a tired sigh. "Keep your head out of the clouds and pay attention."

"Right, sorry sir!"

The giggles turned into full-blown laughter at his uncharacteristic spaciness. Izuku blushed deeply, thoroughly humiliated. He relished the chance to plunge his mind into class, something troubled heart.

He leaned on keeping his thoughts preoccupied the entire day, pointedly limiting his interactions with Uraraka until class let out. It was easy enough; their third-year schoolwork was no small task and necessitated the focus.

But the end of the day did arrive and with it came Uraraka marching over to his desk. Much as it was never an unpleasant sight - her lively gait was always a pleasure to watch - he had mixed feelings about the romantic maneuvering their talks now required.

"You seem really out of it today. Something the matter?" she asked, voice light but full of sincere concern. She was always looking out for him; he wished he could pay her back for that, somehow.

Despite bracing himself for conversation, he found himself wholly unprepared for the question. "Oh, uh, yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired I guess?"

Uraraka gazed intently at him, her usual bright smile absent from her face. She did not appear too convinced by him but mercifully let it slide. "Well, I can understand that. But I was wondering…" she trailed off, her eyes suddenly falling to the ground. "Maybe...we could study together later?"

He could see the rosier complexion on her face, something his surely matched. Once, that question would have been simple. A casual night between two friends. Now, the idea carried a lot more baggage - but a lot more promise, too. The promise of the things teenagers in love did.

How could he refuse?

"Sure!" Izuku replied, a little too loudly. He took a breath to try and steady himself, even as his shirt suddenly felt like it was choking him. "You could stop by my room...maybe around seven?"

Uraraka nodded with more vibrancy than he might have expected. "Alright, sounds good! See you later!"

Izuku watched as she rushed out of the room, clearly as eager to end the awkward exchange as much as he was.

"You two make me sick," Bakugo grumbled as he walked by Izuku's desk.

Izuku scrambled on instinct, readying himself for any further barbs. Most of their class was all-too-happy to see him and Uraraka get together after years of pining, but Bakugo had made no secret of his disgust for it.

"You need to get your head out of your ass," Bakugo murmured before walking angrily out of class.

Izuku breathed a sigh of relief, glad nothing worse came of it. Their relationship had cooled over the years, but he could never be certain about what might set the explosive boy off.

"How uncouth," Iida said from behind him. Izuku jumped slightly, startled. How had he missed his friend approaching? "Well, forget him. The pair of you seem to be getting along alright. Though admittedly, I'm not the most knowledgeable about this kind of thing."

Izuku stood up, relieved to get back to his dorms in search of respite. "Neither am I, to be honest."

"Well, I suppose experience is the best teacher," Iida mused as the two ventured out of class together. "But you two have been practically inseparable since we first got to U.A. You've always been there for one another and I have no doubt you'll work through your current tension."

"That obvious, huh?" Izuku replied, sighing. He did not fault Iida, but he could very much do without the rest of their class tirelessly watching their relationship.

But there was something to Iida's perspective. They had been in lockstep since before they even entered the building. The many times they teamed up and drove one another - the jitters of the heart were there, but it still felt so natural. Simple. He would forever look back at those days of friendship fondly.

Surely, that was a foundation for a relationship to last. He had jotted that down in his notebook, anyway.

"Pardon me, I don't mean to pry or anything. You two just stand out. And I do care about your well-being, after all." Iida bowed his head slightly in apology, formal as always. It was good to have a constant pillar like Iida. Unlike some things, their friendship had remained a steady constant.

"Don't worry about it," Izuku replied, laughing for the first time all day.

Izuku eventually arrived back at his room, gleefully getting into a comfier T-shirt and shorts. He jumped into his bed and breathed, basking in its softness. It was good to find peace after a difficult day.

With the distraction of school gone, his thoughts turned back to Uraraka, his heart skipping as her adorable face sprang back to his mind. He idly began to tidy up his room to prepare for their study session.

He had seen his fair share of depictions of love in the media, which often made it seem like the greatest joy imaginable. Which he had felt, certainly. But now, he couldn't help but think media undersold the anxiety, the nerves and the work it all involved.

Even in the act of cleaning his room, he found himself second-guessing himself. Should he put away more of his All Might figurines? Have a scented candle to provide a better atmosphere? Was now even the right time to be thinking of romantic gestures, or would she just focus on studying, given her drive?

"Get a grip, Izuku," he mumbled to himself, pulling at his chin. He really was too tense.

He settled on a more minimalist effort, clearing off his desk of memorabilia to give plenty of room for studying. They could leave it at that. Just another session, like the plenty they had before they were dating. No need to get stressed out.

The knocking on his door at 7 p.m. sharp seemed to pulse through his entire body. He sat still for a moment, a sudden onset of nerves freezing him in place.

Maybe a little reason to get stressed out.

With a breath to re-animate himself, he rushed over to the door, opening it widely to see his Uraraka standing there, beaming brightly with a stack of books. She wore a casual pink hoodie and a pair of jeans - nothing out of the ordinary and yet, still radiant.

"Heya Deku!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide and her cheeks looking exceptionally rosy. He blinked, finding it hard to look at her - not an infrequent occurrence. But there was something different about tonight. Her face looked...shinier, somehow.

"HiUraraka," he said quickly, gesturing for her to enter. "You look beautiful!"

The words stumbled out of his mouth without him thinking, and he immediately clamped it shut afterward.

Uraraka nearly stumbled into the room after the compliment, managing to save herself from falling by roughly sliding into the extra seat at his desk. "Thanks, Deku!" she said loudly with her hands balled in her lap. "You look hot!"

The statement hung in the space, quickly expanding to smother out any other sound they could have made. Deku could hear his own pulse ringing in his ears at the proclamation. His eyes bulged outward, but he dared not look directly at her.

She broke the suddenly frosty atmosphere first. "I mean, I mean because you're in a tight shirt! Wait, no, I mean, because you're wearing a shirt and I just noticed they started the heater in the building today and I just wondered if you were feeling - is it warm in here?" Uraraka suddenly pulled at the neck of her sweater, mouth moving more rapidly than he could ever recall.

Watching her murmur like he himself might, looking so flustered - by him, of all people - and feeling tension thick in the room, Izuku could not help it. He burst out laughing. It was ridiculous. He had a much better understanding of why all of this was so often a subject of comedy.

Mercifully, Uraraka joined, laughing with him, clearly relieved. The two dared a glance at one another, eyes full of mirth.

"We're hopeless at this, huh?" Izuku dared, smiling at her.

"Yeah, definitely," Uraraka replied, grinning back, rubbing at her brow. "Who would have thought dating would be so hard?"

"Both of us before we started, I think," Izuku said honestly, shifting to take a seat next to her. He opened his own workbooks, excited to get into the meat of their evening.

"True," Uraraka said with a sigh, shaking her head. "Still, I somehow didn't think it would be this difficult."

"Sorry that this hasn't been my strong suit." He did sincerely wish he could do this better. Be suave or whatever it was. She deserved it.

"Me too," Uraraka responded, giving him a smile that somehow made it all worthwhile. "Shall we get started?"

The two got into their homework in earnest - English, math and finally heroics law. Things fell into a more casual routine, each of them falling back to the patterns they would have as friends. It was nice. Cozy. Comfortable, like crawling under the covers on a cold day.

But Izuku found himself watching Uraraka more intently tonight than he might have before they started going out. He could not help but admire when her face got scrunched up at a difficult question. Or when it morphed into a glorious smile when she gained some new understanding. Or how intense she could get when she focused in on something, so determined and driven in a way he always admired.

He noticed other things, too. Like how soft her hair looked. Her cute, pink cheeks. Her skin, which looked strangely, especially vibrant today. It shined more than usual, which was saying something.

It clicked for him suddenly. He blushed and turned his eyes to his notebook, not bold enough to ask the question directly to her face.

"Are you...wearing makeup tonight?" Izuku inquired, breaking their silence.

He heard Uraraka shift but did not dare to look over.

"Err...yeah. You noticed?"

"Yeah…" Izuku responded, feet tensing beneath his chair. "...It looks good."

There was another awkward moment of noiselessness. Izuku stared intently at his textbook, eyes listlessly reading over some obscure law like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He prayed the compliment landed safely.

"...Thanks," she responded quietly, not saying anything more. Izuku dared not glance over to her.

The two worked for a little while longer, falling back into their routine. They eventually decided on a five-minute break, using it as a reprieve to dissipate the tension stored up in their bodies.

Despite everything, they had once again fallen into a comfortable companionship - until Uraraka broke the spell by reaching out for his hand.

It was far from the first time they had held hands, but it never failed to send a pleasant shock up his arm. Her hand was callused, worn as his was from many hours of training. Yet it still always felt pleasant to his touch and he was eager to grasp it.

He glanced up at her as she squeezed her hand in his, carefully keeping her pinky separated to stop her quirk from activating. She was beaming up at him from beneath her eyelashes, eyes warm as ever. He gulped, his free hand starting to quiver as he lost himself in the wonder of the moment.

She inclined her head ever so slightly, but he did not move. He was frozen still, enraptured, unable to think of anything beyond the feeling of her hand and the light upon her face.

He tried to snap himself back to reality. He should say something. Probably. This was a good time for a romantic line. He just had to wing it.

"You're-"

"Deku, I-"

The two were in-synch enough to speak in unison. But Izuku still felt it just added to the increasingly tense moment.

"You want to go first?" Izuku suggested, forcing himself to smile best he could despite his nerves.

Uraraka's face fell under the shadows of her locks. "No...well, sure, I guess. I just...I don't know. Maybe the moment's lost if that makes sense?"

It did but it did not make Izuku happy. How had he lost a moment so quickly, when he was barely cognizant of it even starting? It was frustrating.

"Yeah, I guess I do," Izuku responded, sighing mournfully. He let go of her hand, reaching out to rub at his temple. "It was a lot easier talking when we were just friends."

He did not think much of the question. They were open enough about some of the hiccups of romance. They trusted each other to talk through it.

But the statement carried more weight than he had imagined.

"Should we...should we just go back to that?"

Izuku let his hand fall to the side and sat up straighter, shocked into alertness by the sudden question. He looked at Uraraka, who was staring away from him, biting her lip.

A chill settled over him, the teasing embers of their teenage love suddenly seeming a distant memory.

"I...um…" he stammered, throat suddenly feeling clogged. His mind whirred, trying to find a suitable answer. "Why do you ask?"

He internally chided himself on the deflection. But he had no idea how to respond. Despite all the awkwardness, the moments of romance they had shared were blissful. He had never even thought about turning away from it all, so soon after starting to experiment with it.

Or had he? Why had he even suggested being friends was easier?

"It's just... you're right. It has gotten harder," Uraraka murmured, staring forlornly over her work. "I was worried before we started going out. I was worried about what it might do to our friendship or whether it would just distract us. And I can't help but feel like it has."

Izuku's mind flashed to that morning when his head got fogged up overthinking about her. She had a point.

He could feel it. A wall of ice, slowly coming between them, each of them burning up on either side of it. Maybe they could break their way through together but that appeared an increasingly monumental task. Especially when his own speech was so artless, with all the grace of an iceberg.

He could remember the days when such barriers seemed smaller. He had to admit that a part of him wanted to go back to that.

But other memories flooded into his mind too. Walking with her, hand-in-hand, after class. Laughing with her on their first date. The scorching heat of their first kiss. Even tonight, watching her, noticing things he realized he never properly appreciated.

"I...I didn't mean anything by it," he stated carefully. As soon as the words left his mouth, it sounded lame, even to him. Why could he not say the right thing? "I still like being with you like this."

"I do too," she responded quickly, looking up at him, a deep frown etched into her face. He hated seeing that on her. "I like it too. It hasn't been bad or anything. I just worry you know?"

"I get it," Izuku replied, reaching out to clasp both her hands, nerves dissipating in a bid to hang onto what they were starting together.

But the contact was fleeting. She gave a quick squeeze but withdrew quickly, eyes glancing to the side.

"Sorry. I was probably just being silly."

"You weren't," Izuku insisted. "I know it's been hard. And I know I've been getting distracted lately. But we can keep trying to get better at this, can't we?"

Uraraka nodded in response. "We always have, right? Still driving each other to improve."

The pair shared a strained laugh at that. It was strange, framing romance like heroics when the two things appeared worlds apart. But both took passion and work ethic. That was something they each had plenty of.

But the peace they returned to was poisonous. His mind wandered into more doubt as he mulled their frosty relations. He wanted to put his all into their romance but he wondered if they really had it in them, especially given the strains they were under as heroes-in-training.

The two exchanged only the lightest of pleasantries, any lingering trace of fleeting romance thoroughly doused by their talk.

"...I think maybe I should get going back. I've been missing out on sleep, so I want to turn it in early," Uraraka said suddenly, stretching out to depart.

It was a full hour sooner than she might normally go on a study night. But Izuku could not blame her for being eager to get away from him.

"Oh, alright. See you...around?" Izuku wished he could have set a date with more confidence, but work-studies and training would keep them busy. Nights like this were fleeting. He wished he had not wasted it.

"Yeah, sure. We'll figure something out," she replied sincerely, with a smile. Without any fanfare, she walked out of the room, waving before shutting the door. "Good night!"

"Good night," Izuku responded, the light slamming of the door rudely banging against his eardrums. He waited a few seconds before letting his head fall to his desk, burying it in his notebook. He gazed into the seemingly endless expanse of white emptiness.

Haywire emotions clashed within him, keeping him locked a strange stillness. Frustration at the icy state of his first love. Anger at his own ineptitude. Anxiety over the endless uncertainties love brought with it, something no amount of effort seemed to help him figure out.

He had messed up somehow. He knew that. He had spoken unthinkingly and he was paying the price.

Izuku set his face into a hard line. His mind conjured up the images that were plaguing him more and more - the two of them, easygoing, meeting up after school, working together at the sports festival, training together in their first year. The nostalgia tasted sweet, his heart eagerly basking in the rays from the suns long set.

But those days were gone now. He had to move on if he wanted to experience what lay within love's confounding mysteries. He might not know what would happen but he would have to trust himself.

More importantly, he needed to trust her. It was Uraraka, after all. She had never let him down.

With a groan, he got out his little pink notebook. He would need to think up an apology - the perfect one. Get a plan ready and act quickly. He would rehearse it, to ensure he avoided shoving his foot in his mouth again.

"This is going to go perfectly," he murmured to himself, before submerging himself in his studies.

Despite his oft-messy exterior, Izuku could operate as efficiently as a well-oiled machine when he put his mind to it.

Today, he went into overdrive. He woke up a half-hour early to put some extra effort into his appearance, combing the messier strands of his hair and ensuring his uniform was neat.

He practiced words to her, mumbling up a storm as he went about the rest of his morning ritual.

He adjusted his green winter coat in the mirror carefully, trying to ensure he did not look weird. Uraraka may not care that much about his appearance - he doubted she would be dating him if she did - but it couldn't hurt to be as proper as possible. More than a few people had given him that advice, anyway.

Satisfied enough, Izuku ran out the door, deftly avoiding a few of his classmates to make it out. A rare snowstorm had hit the area hard last night, leaving the ground coated in a garish mixture of snow, slush and ice. It was early enough that the walkways were still covered.

It was not exactly a picturesque scene, but it would do well enough. Speed was important here. He did not want their terrible conversation from the previous night to fester. Best to face it head-on, like he would a villain.

As he expected, Uraraka was the next person to come through the doors. He knew she had pushed herself to become one of the earlier risers in her class. He had timed his own exit from the dorms accordingly.

Once again, she took his breath away. Dressed in a brown coat and an adorable pink hat and mittens, it seems strange to him how effortlessly she shone. He blinked, as stricken as the first time he laid eyes on her.

"Oh, hey Deku!" she said with her carefree bubbliness, flashing him a smile, seemingly untroubled by the events of the previous night. "Didn't think I'd see you here!"

He gulped, struggling to think with how smitten he was with her. But he had practiced more for this - to avoid his heart tying his tongue. He just had to stick to the script. He could do this.

"Yeah, I thought we could walk to class together this morning and just talk a bit." He kept his voice even-keeled and smooth, displaying little of the nerves he felt. He had to steel himself for this. She deserved that.

Her eyebrows flew upwards on her face, her lips loosening slightly as she appraised him. The expression did not last long, morphing back into another delighted smile. "Sure!"

Thrilled at the early success, Izuku made his way down the front steps. This was good. He had already cleared the first hurdle and she seemed receptive. All he had to do was repeat a few key phrases and he was sure they could put that night behind them. That she could see his commitment. Everything would go exactly as he planned it.

He felt his feet suddenly give way. Before he realized it, he was slipping on a patch of ice. He flipped upward into the air and soon found himself falling rapidly, his eyes gazing upon the overcast skies above.

Izuku prepared to meet the ground and welcomed his own destruction.

Before everything broke apart with his fall, he found himself floating in mid-air. He blinked for a moment, his mind not immediately processing what exactly had happened. He got a strange sense of vertigo as his body adjusted to its sudden weightlessness.

"You okay? We better be careful with all this ice!" Izuku inclined his head to see Uraraka, eyes focused intently on him. She still wore her beautiful smile, her suddenly ungloved hand extended, connected to his upper arm. When had that happened? She had quick reflexes.

Uraraka had saved him. Again.

His mind suddenly flashed, his heart hammering as he found himself warping back two years. He occupied two spaces, two times, at once. The pair of them together before their entrance exam. Both of them here, together, now. A strange, cute girl going out of her way to stop him from face-planting. His wonderful girlfriend preventing him from falling, rescuing him once more. Uraraka grinning at him in both places, friendly as always. Him, completely flabbergasted.

Oh. Oh. Right. It had always been this way.

She had always sent his heart flying with the greatest of ease. She had always gotten him flustered. Since they came to U.A., she had always been there for him. Had always been a friend, a companion, a saviour. At the core, nothing between them had changed.

She was one of his heroes. What had he ever been so afraid of?

In his mind's eye, he could see the wall of ice that had formed between them. That he had formed between him with his own glacial thinking. With a thought, the ice broke apart, no longer separating him from his best friend.

"Err...Deku? You alright?"

Izuku flew back into the present, his head no longer feasting on the sweet mixture of nostalgia and love. He saw Uraraka waving her bare hand before him, trying to bring him back to reality.

Without thinking, he grabbed a hold of the hand, making it fall still. He lowered it, giving her a wide grin.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Sorry about that!"

He noted a blush flooded her cheeks, but she did not react otherwise. However, her expression faltered after the moment lasted a few seconds too long.

"Hey, Deku?"

"Hmm, what is it?"

"I need my hand back if I'm going to release you."

"Oh, right!" he laughed as he let go. A voice inside nagged at him for the blunder, but in this instant, he no longer felt worried about such missteps. Suddenly, he felt surer about their bond than he could ever remember being.

She took off her other glove and carefully brought her fingers together. He oriented himself to land on his feet, taking care not to slip this time.

He had a script he could launch into right now. Prepared, rehearsed, proper. The words would not lead him astray.

But that speech would not do for him now. He let it scatter to the far reaches of his mind. His faith in his carefully prepared romantic notes went with them.

A true hero spoke directly from the heart. He could not be afraid of that anymore.

"I love you, Ochako Uraraka," he stated unabashedly, reaching out to grab one of her hands again. "And I want to stay with you."

The silence was palpable. Uraraka blinked rapidly at him, her eyebrows furrowing. "...What…?"

"Sorry, I just felt I needed to say that." Izuku kept his muscles lax and his voice even-keeled. He refused to get budged by nerves again. His feelings for Uraraka were an unshakeable pillar now; his actions would reflect that. "I messed up last night and I'm sorry about that. I couldn't wait to apologize. I don't want there to be any doubt about how I feel about you. About us."

"Oh. Oh." He felt a hard squeeze on his hand and watched as Uraraka suddenly inclined her head downward. "This is a lot to take in, Deku."

He reached his free hand out towards her, wanting to comfort her. "Sorry, Uraraka I didn't mean-"

"I wanted to say sorry, too. I felt awful about what I said last night," she said softly, her eyes flying upward to meet his. She stared forward, her irises displaying a powerful intensity. "But I guess you beat me to the punch this time."

He breathed, a pressure lifting off his chest. "Well, that's-"

Before he could react further, Uraraka pounced on him, throwing her full weight into it. He caught her easily enough, but he was left defenceless as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips into his.

His pulse raced as he pushed back into her, drinking all of her in. Their kisses before were chaste, delicate, his insecurities often freezing him in place. This was different. They were melting in a passionate inferno, the two heroes pushing, driving each other, harmonious as they ascended to the heavens.

Uraraka pulled away first, but did not separate, keeping her forehead connected to his. Her brown eyes shined brighter than ever, like stars lighting the way in the sky.

"Wow."

"Wow," he echoed.

"Love you, Deku," she stated simply, surely. "Sorry, I wanted to get you back for surprising me, somehow."

She gave him a cheeky grin and he laughed at that.

"Not how I expected we'd next say that to each other, but I'll take it," she continued.

"I guess it had been a while." He could not remember exactly when they had last exchanged simple affirmations of love. Had it been that first date? Was he so lost in his own head that he had forgotten to repeat it?

"...Too long, I think," she replied grinning back. "We both got a little lost."

"Well, I promise I'm going to say it more often," he murmured sweetly to her, inclining his head slightly to press a kiss to her forehead. "I'm done with worrying. I love you, Uraraka."

"...Were you planning this?" she questioned, her head hot under his lips.

"Not exactly. My idea kind of...went up in the air."

She giggled at that. "This is because I caught you?"

Perhaps that should be embarrassing but he nodded without hesitation. "I realized how much you've been there for me. And how things don't have to change so much between us. We're still friends."

"The best," she corrected.

"And we'll be there for each other, right?" He raised a fist towards her. "Every step of the way."

Uraraka completed the fist bump. "Same as ever."

"So should I really worry about if we're dating?" It was a rhetorical question, now. At that moment, he knew he would not be inhibited by those doubts again. Most of the time, anyway. But they would work through any hurdles together.

"Not at all," she answered anyway, for herself and for him.

She suddenly opened her hand, grabbing onto him and triggering her quirk. He went weightless once more, allowing her to more easily pull him in and share their love together once more.

Forevermore.

AN: Written for the IzuOcha Discord server writing contest. Prompt: Ice breaker.  Forgot to post this on Tumblr a couple of weeks back, so I decided to add it here. 

Thank you to the organizers. I hope you all enjoyed one of the fluffiest things I've written.

Let me know what you thought! Leave a like and a reblog if you can. They are important nourishment for us writers ^_^

[amphtaminedreams]

J.K Rowling & The Echo Chamber of TERFs: Why Nobody Wants your Transphobic “Opinion”

TW// Discussion of Sexual Assault and Transphobia

SO...

I’ve seen the term “allyship fatigue” going round a lot lately on Twitter, since the issues of police brutality, institutional racism, and now transphobia have taken central stage.

And it’s weird. To be honest, hearing other white cis people calling themselves “allies” has always sounded kinda self-congratulatory. Taking this to the level of martyrdom that the phrase “allyship fatigue” evokes makes me want to heave. It’s shit that anyone even has to be saying Black Lives STILL Matter, but it does seem to unfortunately be the case that every time there is a highly publicised murder of a black individual by police, the explosion of us white people calling ourselves allies and retweeting and reblogging statements of solidarity only lasts so long before half revert back to being complacent with and uncritical of a world seeped with casual racism. Is that what “allyship fatigue” is? The excuse for that? Not only does the term take the focus off of the marginalised group the movement is centred around but it makes supporting equal rights sound like some kind of heroic burden we’ve chosen to take on rather than addressing a debt we owe and being not even good but just plain decent human beings. WE are not the ones shouldering the weight here, and if your mental health is suffering, that is not the fault of the people asking for their rights. Log off. We have the privilege to do that. It just doesn’t need to be a spectacle.

At the same time, this public onslaught of ignorance and hatred that the coverage of the Black Lives Matter movement has triggered (that let me again emphasise, black people have had to involuntarily be on the receiving end of their whole lives) and the frustration and anger that comes from seeing these absolute trash takes from people with no research into the subject who build their argument purely on “what about”isms is do-I-even-want-to-bring-children-into-this-fucking-world levels of miserable. In terms of earth beginning to look more and more like the prequel describing the events which lead up to a dystopian novel, the chaos of the last 4 weeks or so (2020 has not only shattered the illusion of time but also danced on the shards, I know) is the tip of the iceberg. I saw a thread about what’s going on in Yemen at the moment, which I had no idea about, and immediately felt consumed by guilt that I didn’t know. With the advent of social media, there’s been this sudden evolutionary shift where we’re almost required and expected to know about, have an opinion on, and be empathetic with every humanitarian crisis at once. I think young people feel this especially, which is why I say that sometimes it’s worth talking to an older person before you brush them off as a racist or a homophobe and see if they’re open to hearing different opinions-in general, I think we’re a generation that is used to being expected to consume a huge amount of information at once. They are not. For a lot (NOT all) of the older, middle-class, white population, ignorance isn’t a conscious choice, it is the natural way of life. The parameters of empathy until very recently have only had to extend just past your closest circle of friends to encompass people you “relate to”. That doesn’t mean they aren’t capable of caring about other things, and sometimes we owe them a chance to change their perspective first, if for no reason other than to advance the cause of, well, basic human rights for all.

So where does J.K Rowling come into all this? I hear you ask. Why doesn’t she just stop rambling? You potentially wonder. Well, I’m getting to it. 

J.K Rowling isn’t an unconsciously ignorant people. She is what I would call consciously ignorant. And of all weeks to flaunt this ignorance, she chose a time when people are already drowning in a cesspit of hatred. The woman whose whole book series supposedly revolves around the battle between good and evil didn’t even try to drain the swamp. She instead added a bucket of her transphobic vitriol into it. 

Let me preface this by saying that I wouldn’t wipe my arse with the Sun. What they did with the statement she made regarding her previous abusive relationship, seeking out said abusive partner for an interview and putting it on the front page with the headline “I slapped J.K”, whilst expected from the bunch of cretinous bottom feeders who work there, is disgusting. That being said, the pattern of behaviour J.K Rowling has exhibited since she first became an online presence is equally disgusting, and just because the Sun have been their usual shithead selves, doesn’t mean we should forget the issue at hand, that issue being her ongoing transphobia and erasure of trans women from women’s rights.

As I’m sure is the case for many people on Tumblr, J.K Rowling has always been such a huge inspiration for me, and Harry Potter was my entire childhood. My obsession with it continued until I was at least 16 and is what got me through the very shit years of being a teenager, and that will forever be the case. I’m not here to discuss the whole separation of the art from the artist thing because whilst I ordinarily don’t think that’s really possible, at this point the “Harry Potter universe” has become much bigger than J.K herself. I was so pleased to see Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson and Rupert Grint all affirm their support for trans rights-I was raised on the films up until the 4th one which I wasn’t old enough to see at the cinema, and the DVD was at the top of my Christmas list. They were always my Harry, Hermione and Ron. It was only between the fourth and fifth films that I started to read the books to fill that gaping in-between-movies hole, but as I grew up, I read them over and over and over again. Any of the subtext that people are talking about now in light of her antisemitism and transphobia went completely over my head, though who knows, whilst I can sit here and write that I’m certain I didn’t, maybe I did pick up some unconscious biases along the way? The art/artist discussion is a complex one and I don’t know if I’ll ever read the books again at this point.

There was absolutely no subtext, however, in the “think piece” on J.K’s website addressing the response to her transphobic tweets. There wasn’t all that much to unpack in the first tirade, they were quite openly dismissive-first that womanhood is defined by whether or not one experiences menstruation (I currently don’t due to health issues but I’m betting this wouldn’t make me any less woman in her eyes), and second, regurgitating an article which furthers the fallacy that trans women simply existing erases the existence of cisgender lesbian women. Rowling’s initial response to the backlash was to blame it on a glass of red wine, I think? Which is such a weird go-to excuse for celebrities because not once have I ever got drunk and completely changed my belief system. If you’re not transphobic sober, you don’t suddenly become transphobic drunk. What you are saying is that you’re not usually publicly transphobic (which isn’t even the case with Rowling because this is hardly her first flirtation with bigotry via social media) but that whoopsies! You drank some wine and suddenly thought it was acceptable!

Now what is her excuse for the formal response she wrote to the backlash, dripping with transphobic dog whistles and straight up misinformation (UPDATE: and as of yesterday, blocking Stephen King quite literally for replying to her with the tweet “trans women are women”, in case you thought that this whole thing was a case of her intentions being misconstrued)? Drunk tweets are one thing but if she managed to write a whole fucking essay whilst pissed I imagine there’s a lot of university students out there who’d pay her good money to learn that skill.

Here is the bottom line. TRANS WOMEN ARE WOMEN. There is no discussion around that. And if you don’t understand why, at the very least, you can be respectful of the way a person chooses to identify, especially when that person is an already targeted minority.

Obviously, sex and gender are complex things. Based on the fact that we don’t walk around with our nether-regions out, we generally navigate our way through the world using our gender and the way we present our gender. Gender of course means many different things to many different people; some see it as a sliding scale kind of thing whereas some people can’t see themselves on the scale at all, and choose to use terms other than man or woman to express how they identify. But, whatever gender one chooses to identify as, we live in a modern world-with all the scientific advancements we’ve made and all that we now know about the brain, using what is between people’s legs to define them is an ignorant, outdated copout. You’ll find that a lot of transphobes can live in harmony with trans women who conform, who have classically feminine features, maybe facial feminisation surgery, trans women who keep quiet about how they’re seen by cis women and don’t kick up “too much of a fuss” (which is in itself still a perfectly valid, brave and understandable way to live your life after years of feeling like you don’t fit in btw). The trans women that Joanne and her friends take the most issue with is the ones who want to expand what womanhood means and stretch the boundaries of what is and isn’t acceptable, destroying the confines of simplistic model that TERFs feel comfortable operating within. The ones who fight to be recognised as no “lesser” than cis women. Calling a person a TERF is quite literally just asserting that they are someone who wants to exclude trans women from their definition of womanhood, or in other words wants to cling to the old, obsolete model. If J.K Rowling cannot let the statement “trans women are women” go unchallenged (which we’ve seen from her response to Stephen King’s tweet she cannot), then she is by definition a TERF. It’s not a slur. It’s a descriptor indicating the movement she has chosen to associate herself with. Associating the descriptor of the position you so vehemently refuse to denounce in spite of all evidence and information offered to you with the concept of a “witch hunt” when trans women are ACTUALLY brutally murdered for an innate part of their identity is insulting, at the very least.

Let’s get this straight: despite transphobes trying to conflate sex with gender and arguing that sex is the only “real” identifier of the two, our existence on this planet and our perception of this world is a gendered experience. It is our brain, where the majority of researchers agree that gender lies, which decides and dictates not only who we are and how we feel but also how we interact with everyone around us. I don’t think it’s an outlandish statement to say that when it comes to who we are as people, that flesh machine protected by our skull is the key player.  PSA for transphobes everywhere: when people say penises have a mind of their own, they are NOT talking literally. The more you know. 

Gender is obviously a much newer concept than sex-it is both influenced by and interacts with every element of our lives. It’s also much more complex, in that there are still many gaps in our understanding. I assume these two factors combined with the familiarity of the (usually) binary model of biological sex are a part of why TERFS fundamentally reject the importance of gender in favour of the latter. Yes, most of the time, we feel our gender corresponds with our sex, but not always, and nor is there any concrete proof that this has to be the case. Most studies tend to agree that our brains start out as blank slates, that we grow into the gender we are assigned based on our bodies. In other words, our sex only defines our gender insofar as the historical assumption that they are the same thing, which in turn exposes us to certain cultural expectations. To any TERFs that have somehow ended up here-if you haven’t already, I suggest looking into the research of Gina Rippon, a neuroscientist whom has spent a large portion of her professional career analysing the data of sex differences in the brain. Whilst she originally set out to find some kind of consistent variance between the brains of the 2 prominent sexes to back up the idea that the brains of men and women are inherently different, she found nothing of significance-individual differences, yes, but no consistent similarities in the brains of one sex that were not present in the other. Once differences in brain size were accounted for, “well-known” sex differences in key structures disappeared-in terms of proportion, these structures take up the same amount of space in the brain regardless of sex. Her findings are best summed up by her response to the question: are there any significant differences in the brain based on sex alone? Her answer is no. To suggest otherwise is “neurofoolishness”. Not only does her research help put to bed the myth that our brains are sexed along with the rest of our bodies during development (this is now believed to happen separately, meaning the sex of our bodies and brains may not correspond), but also the idea propagated by the patriarchy for centuries that basically boils down to “boys will be boys”-a myth used to condone male sexual violence against women and even against each other on the basis that it is inherent and “can't be helped”. That they are just “built differently”. Maybe at one point in human evolution, men were conditioned to fight and women were conditioned to protect, but whilst the idea remains and continues to affect our societal structures (and thus said cultural expectations), we’ve moved on. I mean we evolved from fish for fuck’s sake but you don’t see us breathing underwater. 

Gender identity is based on many things and admittedly we don’t fully have the complete picture yet. The effects that socialisation and gender norms in particular, as much as we don’t want them to exist, have on our brain are huge; there’s evidence that they can leave epigenetic marks, or in other words cause structural changes in the brain which drive biological functions and features as diverse as memory, development and disease susceptibility. Socialisation alters the way our individual brains develop as we grow up, and as much as I’d love to see gender norms disappear, they’ll probably be around for a long time to come, as will their ramifications. The gap between explaining how socialisation affects the brain of cisgender individuals compared to the brains of transgender or non-binary individuals is not yet totally clear, but as with every supposed cause and effect psychology tries to uncover, there are outliers and individual differences. No, brains are not inherently male or female at birth but they are all different, and can be affected by socialisation differently. In one particularly groundbreaking study conducted by Dick Swaab of the Netherlands Institute for Neuroscience, postmortems of the brains of transgender women revealed that the structure of one of the areas in the brain most important to sexual behaviour more closely resembled the postmortem brains of cisgender women than those of cisgender men-it’s also important that these differences did not appear to be attributable to the influence of endogenous sex hormone fluctuations or hormone treatment in adulthood.

Maybe dysphoria is something that evolves organically and environmental factors don’t even come into it. Like I said, we don’t have the whole picture. What we DO know is that for some people, as soon as they become self-aware, that dysphoria is there, and the evidence for THAT, for there being common variations between the brains of cisgender individuals and transgender individuals, is overwhelming. You can be trapped in a body that does not correspond with how your brain functions, or how you wish to see yourself. Do individuals like J.K Rowling really believe it is ethical to reinforce the idea that we are defined by our sex and that our sex should decide the course of our lives, should decide how we are treated? That we should reduce people to genitals and chromosomes when our gender, the lens through which we see and interact with the world, could be completely different? Do they not see anything wrong with perpetuating the feelings of “otherness” and dysphoria in trans individuals that results from society’s refusal to see them as anything more than what body parts they have? In a collaboration between UCLA MA neuroscience student Jonathan Vanhoecke and Ivanka Savic at the Karolinska Institute in Sweden, the statistics collected pointed to what trans activists have always been trying to get at-the areas of the brain responsible for our sense of our identity showed far more neural activity in the brains of trans individuals when they were looking at depictions of their body that had been changed to match their gender identity than when this wasn’t the case; when they saw themselves with a body that corresponded with their gender identity, when they were “valid” by society’s definition, they felt more themselves. When J.K Rowling tells trans people that their “real identity” is the sex they were born with, she is denying them this right to be themselves and due to her large platform, encouraging others to do the same. YOU are doing that, J.K. And who knows why? Where does your transphobia come from? Peel back the bullshit layers of waffle about feeling silenced and threatened, which you know you are directing at the wrong group of people, and admit it’s for less noble reasons. Taking the time to unlearn the instinct embedded into your generation to see people according to the cultural status quo of biological determinism is effort, I know-but you wrote a 700+ page book. I’m sure you can manage it. Or is it an ego thing? You don’t want to admit that you may have been uneducated on gender and sex in the past, and now have to stick by your reductive position so your image as an “intellectual” isn’t compromised. I don’t know. Only you do. But your position is irresponsible and dangerous either way. You can make up bullshit reasons as to why the link between trans individuals and the incidence of suicide attempts and completions isn’t relevant or representative of the struggle that trans people face due to the hatred that people like you propagate but it is there, and you J.K Rowling, someone who has spoken in the past about the horror of depression, should know better. You should know better than to CLAIM you know better than the experienced researchers who have found the same pattern time and time again-that the likelihood of trans individuals committing suicide is significantly higher than that of cis people. 

No, Rowling’s transphobia has never been as upfront as saying “I don’t believe transgender people exist” but she continues to imply that when she makes claims such as womanhood being defined by whether or not one experiences menstruation, and the completely subjective concept of whether an individual has faced sex-based violence from cisgender men. I’m sure she’d be out here taking chromosome proof cards like Oysters if it wasn’t for intersex individuals throwing her whole binary jam into a tailspin. Yep, there’s even suggestions that the binary biological model might not be so binary these days-just because two people have, say, XY chromosomes, does not mean that these chromosomes are genetically identical between individuals-the genes they carry can, and do, vary and so their actions and expressions of sex vary. 

Ideally, what TERFs want to do with their language of “real womanhood” is create an exclusive club that trans women are left out of when they too suffer under the same patriarchal society that those who are born female do. Yes, they might not experience ALL the issues a person born with female genitalia do, but no two women’s life experiences are the same anyway. Trans women also have their own horrible experiences with the patriarchy, and are often victims of a specific kind of gendered violence that is purported by the idea of “real womanhood”. Don’t throw trans sisters under the bus because you’re angry about your experience as a woman on this planet-direct your anger at the fucking bus. Don’t claim that “many trans people regret their decision to transition” when the statistics overwhelmingly show that this is the EXACT FUCKING OPPOSITE of the truth (according to British charity organisation Mermaids, surgical regret is proportionately very low amongst gender affirmation outpatients and research suggesting otherwise has been broadly disproven) because you’ve spoken to a selective group of trans individuals probably handpicked by the TERFS you associate with to confirm their biases, and then have the nerve to claim that trans-activists live in echo chambers on top of that. Don’t use anecdotes and one-off incidences where “trans women” (I say trans women in quotation marks because we’re pretty much talking about a completely statistically insignificant group of perverted cis men who have, according to TERFs, somehow come to the conclusion that going through transition will make their already easy-to-get-away-with hobby of assaulting women even...easier to get away with?) have committed sexual crimes to demonise and paint as predatory group who are largely at risk and in 99.9% of situations, the ones being preyed on. It’s a point so disgusting that trans activists shouldn’t even have to respond to it, but the idea that an individual would go to the pains of legally changing their gender and potentially the hell of the harassment that trans people face, the multiple year long NHS waiting lists to see specialist doctors,  just so that they can gain access to women only spaces is ridiculous. It’s worth noting here just how sinister you repeatedly bringing up this phantom threat of cis men becoming trans women in order to assault women in “women only” spaces is. The implication here is that they should use the toilet corresponding to the sex they were born as, right? Because it’s all about safety? Well, statistically speaking, far more trans women are abused whilst having to use men’s toilets than when they use women’s ones and the same goes for trans men, and yet you don’t mention it once. Your suggestion also puts people born female who identify as women but maybe do not dress or present in a typically feminine way at risk of being ostracised when THEY need to use the women’s bathroom. The idea that by ceasing to uphold values like yours we are putting women at risk is quite simply, unsubstantiated; the legislation to allow individuals to use the bathroom corresponding to whichever gender they legally identify as has been around since 2010 in the UK and yet we’ve yet to see the sudden spike in the number of women being assaulted in bathrooms you imply will exist if we create looser rules around gender identity and let people use whichever toilet they feel the need to. Similarly, in a study of US school districts, Media Matters found that 17 around the country with protections for trans people, which collectively cover more than 600,000 students, had no problems with harassment in bathrooms or locker rooms after implementing their policies. If cis men want to assault women, they will. They don’t need to pretend to be trans to do so. Don’t pretend to be speaking as a concerned ally of LGBTQ+ individuals when you’re ignoring the thoughts of the majority of individuals who come under that category.

(Just Some of the Trans Women Murdered for Being Trans Over the Last Couple of Years, L-R: Serena Valzquez, Riah Milton, Bee Love Slater, Naomi Hersi, Layla Pelaez, and Dominique Fells)

Trans women are not the threat here. Bigots like you are the threat. HOW DARE you use your platform to reinforce this rhetoric that gets trans people killed when there are so many much MUCH more important things going on right now. Two black trans women had been murdered just for being black trans women in the week you wrote your essay defending those initial tweets. This is an ongoing issue. As a cis woman, my opinion should read as sacred texts to you right, Joanne? Because I’ll say with my whole chest that I feel far more threatened by bigots like you who do not care for the harmful impact of their words than I do by trans women. I do not feel threatened by trans women AT ALL. And yeah, to me, unless they tell me otherwise that they like to go out their way to affirm their trans-ness (which I completely respect-it takes a lot of courage to be proud about your past in a world that condemns you for it), they’re just WOMEN like any other. Yes their experience of “womanhood” may be different to mine but no two individuals experiences are the same anyway and our gender related suffering has the same cause. As a rich, white, cis woman, it’s wild that you are painting yourself as the victim in this debate when trans people can face life in prison and in some places a death sentence for openly identifying with a gender different to their sex in a lot of countries. Nobody is saying that you can’t talk about cis women. Nobody is saying you can’t talk about lesbian issues either, though it’s a bit of a piss-take that you like to throw that whole trans women erase lesbian existence argument out there as a kind of trump card to say “look, I can’t be a transphobe, I’m an LGBTQ+ ally!”, an argument akin to the racist’s age old “I can’t be racist, I have black friends!”. You know from the responses you get to your transphobia that majority of the LGBTQ+ community are very much adamant that trans women are “real women” and that the same goes for trans men being “real men”, so don’t claim to speak for them. You cannot simultaneously care about LGBTQ+ rights and deny trans people their right to live as who they are, however veiled your sentiments around that may be. The whole gay rights movement of the 60s and 70s exist partially BECAUSE of black trans women such as Martha P Johnson if you didn’t know, and though it’s kinda common knowledge I’m doubting that you do because very little of what you tout is backed up by any kind of research. The articles you retweet, echoing the views of lesbians who also happen to be TERFs do not count-the idea that trans people existing simultaneously erases the existence of lesbians only applies to individuals such as yourself who don’t see trans women as women in the first place. That is the problem! Most people don’t have an issue with the fact that you may have a preference for certain genitalia, but I would argue that ignoring exceptional circumstances related to trauma or some other complex issue, relationships are supposed to be with the person as a whole, not their “organic” penis or vagina and it’s kind of insulting to anyone in a same sex relationship to reduce their bond to that.

Back to my point though, of course there are issues that cis women and lesbians face that need talking about, but trans people are affected by the same patriarchal system. You don’t need to go out of your way to mention that they’re not included in whichever given specific issue when there are also cis women who may not have experienced some of the things TERFs reference. You especially don’t need to act as if trans women are the reason we need to have these discussions in the first place. As I’ve said, as MANY women have said, repeatedly-they are NOT the threat here. It is disgusting to see someone I once had so much admiration for constantly punch down at a group that is already marginalised.  It’s 2020, J.K, there’s so much info out there. YOU’RE A FULLY GROWN WOMAN. There’s no justification. We get it, you had a tomboy phase. You weren’t like “other girls”. You didn’t like living under a patriarchal system. So you think you understand the mindset of people who want to transition. You think you’re not doing anything wrong by helping to slow the advancement of trans rights because well, you turned out fine? But you clearly fundamentally misunderstand what being trans is. It’s not about your likes and dislikes and having issues with the experience of being a woman (god knows we all do but I doubt anyone truly thinks for one moment that being trans would be any easier), it’s about how you think and feel at your core. It’s such a complex issue, and all the majority of trans people are asking you to do is LISTEN to them. You may be determined to live in binaries, yet the bigger picture is always more complex and fluid and it’s ever-changing, so all we can do is keep an open mind and keep wanting to know more and gather more evidence. If you’re capable of the mental gymnastics required to retcon the piece of work you wrote in the 90s to make it seem as if you were “ahead of the diversity game”, to the extent that you are now claiming Voldermort’s snake has always actually been a Korean woman and see nothing wrong with that when paired with the fact that the only Asian character you originally included was called Cho Chang, then well…I’m sure you can put your ego aside and do the groundwork to understand what trans people are trying to tell you too. You inspired a lot of children and teenagers and even adults, and got them through some very difficult times, taught that the strength of one’s character matters far more than what anyone thinks of you. You claimed you wanted to stand up for the outcasts.

Well, stand up for the outcasts. Now’s a better time than any. And once again: TRANS WOMEN ARE WOMEN AND TRANS MEN ARE MEN. They shouldn’t have to hear anything else.

Lauren x

[DISCLAIMER: shitty collages are mine but the background is not, let me know if you are aware of the artist so I can credit!]

[armanijoons]

— RENDEZVOUS; 2

pairing: namjoon x reader 

overall genre: celebrity!au, fluff, smut, some angst 

words: 1.2k 

chapters: I II

SUMMARY — namjoon kim, better known by his stage name rm (or his english name nathan), is a rapper on the verge of making it big. after being on forbes’ 30 under 30, his fame is rising exponentially. unfortunately, with fame comes crazy fans who’d do anything if it meant being able to breathe the same air as you. fortunately, however, y/n is a designer who’s next collection is in dire need of pr to avoid another 2k19 situation. luckily for both of them, they’re just what each of them needs.

or, “fuck all that fame shit; cause this be our rendezvous” - rendezvous; junny

To say you were stressed would be the understatement of the century. With the release of your newest collection coming up, you were up to your nose in paperwork and proposals for advertisement.

You loved your job. Being a fashion designer was everything you could have ever wanted, but you wouldn’t mind if you never had to attend another PR meeting again.

Yet here you were, in the congested New York City traffic, with undoubtedly the worst migraine you’ve ever had the displeasure of experiencing. And it certainly didn’t help that you were currently being briefed by the head of your PR team in the seat next to you.

“Are you even listening to me?” He huffed, ruffling his hair as he tried to gauge whether or not you were even paying attention to the oh-so-important things he had to say.

“Tae, please, spare me and just tell me what the hell I’m doing here.”

Taehyung scoffed before deciding to give into you, more so sparing himself from a sore throat before lunch.

“You would’ve heard me earlier--” He began, holding his hand up as you began to open your mouth to respond, cutting you off and offering a warning as well. “You’re meeting with Namjoon Kim’s PR team for a possible collaboration. I’m guessing most likely, you’ll be dressing him for his promotions and he’ll allow you to use some of his music during your fashion show.”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Namjoon Kim,” Taehyung stated, not sparing you a glance as he typed into his phone, responding to a text before looking up and pointing out their destination on the left.

You were vaguely aware of a musician with the surname ‘Kim’ that had been all over the radio and evidently, the trending pages of every single social media account you owned.

Your pondering carried you from the car, up the elevators, and through the doors of the conference room, spotting several members of both your PR team and ‘Namjoon’s’ as well. 

However, as you glanced around the room, you couldn’t help but notice a particularly stressed looking man in a sleek, navy blue suit. You watched as he repeatedly continuously bounced his leg and kept checking his watch.

“I’m sorry he’s late, I thought I could trust him to wake up on his own today. But obviously, he’s either dead or just decided to speed up my death.” His voice was humorous but you could tell he wasn’t too happy with his client.

He turned his gaze your way, reaching over the table to shake your hand, “I’m Seokjin Kim--” The door slammed open, revealing a well-dressed, quite tall young man in a pair of rimmed glasses standing at the door. His eyes widened once he realized he was the last person to make it there.

You watched him curse under his breath as he walked around the table, muttering ‘I’m so sorry I’m late.’, avoiding his manager’s piercing stare.

“Now that everyone is here...”

Now you’ve never been the hysterical type. You rolled with the punches and did pretty well under pressure (according to your own standards, it must be noted). However, nothing could prepare for the proposal your PR teams had placed on the table.

Nonetheless, you gritted your teeth and agreed, even clutching the pen in a sweaty hand as you signed the contract.

And it was set. You’d “date” this rapper you didn’t know much about for 3 months, enough time for people to get excited about it, obsess to the point of invasion of privacy, then gradually forget about it even for you two to “amicably split on good terms”. 

It definitely didn’t help your shock induced hysteria that they wanted the two of you to make an appearance in public that afternoon either. And maybe it was your shock that shielded you from completely losing your shit in front of all the important, nice people in the conference room.

You were about five seconds into the realization that you’d be dating this guy you’d have no idea about. At least Shawn and Camila knew each other before they had their publicity stunt.

Somehow, you were able to freak out just enough to get back to your apartment, get dressed, meet Namjoon downstairs, and mentally prepare yourself for the most awkward “date” you’ve ever been on.

And so here you were, sitting in the back of an UBER with Namjoon. A full seat of space in between the two of you as you both tried to think of something to say. You were sure even the UBER driver could feel your awkwardness. 

“So, you’re releasing an album?” You asked, trying your best to avoid his eyes.

“Yeah, next month, around the same time as your collection.”

Then, back to silence.

You were thinking simply giving up before he spoke up again, “Sorry about all this, I can’t imagine how uncomfortable you are right now. I’ve never really been on a serious date so I’m kind of at a loss at what to do.”

And that got you.

Suddenly, you kind of cared about making an effort to converse with him understanding how uncomfortable he must’ve been. After all, who would want this to be their first real date? 

“No don’t be sorry. If anything, I should try to make this as authentic as possible, I guess.”

He turned to you, finally making eye contact with you for the first time since the conference. “You don’t have to--”

“No you’re fine, there’s this museum I’ve been wanting to go to for a long time- If you’re into that sort of thing, I mean.”

You could see his eyes light up at the idea before clearing his throat and agreeing to it.

“Here it is,” You remarked, getting excited once you spotted the museum building.

The two of you were heading down a sidewalk, speeding up as you started to run to the door spotting someone holding it open for you. 

You smiled back at Namjoon, holding the door, ushering him in and entering the building.

“It’s a pop-up museum the university puts on once a year to fund their Arts programs. I’ve always wanted to go but never had the time since I moved to the city.” You explained in a hushed down, walking down the hallway, Namjoon trailing carefully behind you.

“This one’s pretty cool,” He hummed as he stopped by your side, seeing you gaze up at a painting of a woman in a field of flowers. 

You nodded before launching into a geeky observation of the color palette and the positioning of certain elements and how they tie into the artist’s view of what the perception of femininity is in Western society. You turned to face him after you spiel, catching the way he smiled softly, his deep dimples placed perfectly in his full cheeks.

“You’re nerdier than I thought you’d be.” He remarked, chuckling as your mouth fell open in disbelief.

“I had a headache this morning,” You defended yourself as you moved to the next painting, the rapper trailing behind you. “Besides, this is sort of my happy place, away from all the bullshit paperwork I’ve been procrastinating on.”

“I get that,” He mused, nodding as he observed the painting in front of the two of you.

The two of you observed the various pieces of artwork scattered around the room in peace. Making small comments about things you found interesting every now and then before moving to the next one. That is until a giggle caught you attention before the shuffling of feet reminded you of the true mission at hand.

“I think we’ve been spotted.” Namjoon stated, watching the small group (presumably teenage fans of his) try to avoid eye contact with the two of you.

“Okay, Gossip Girl,” You chuckled, looking up at him before turning your attention back to the landscape piece you were previously intrigued by.

“Knowing Jin, once the picture starts trending, he’ll text me so we can get out of here before any shit goes down.”

You hummed gently.

The peace lasted maybe another 10 minutes before Namjoon received said text from his manager, Seokjin. “It’s trending,” He mumbled, seemingly asking you if you were ready to leave.

“Let’s head out then.” You responded, looking back at him, seeing him already drifting towards the exit of the museum, focused on his phone. ‘He’s probably talking to his manager’. You mused.

He paused, waiting for you to catch up before continuing, his pace a bit slower now that the two of you were close to the building’s exit and therefore, running the possibility of being seen by fans of his.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Namjoon said, his attention lifted from his phone onto you before turning back to his phone, leaving you to follow him at his side.

And before you knew it, you were sitting in the back of the car Taehyung had sent for you. You tried to piece together the last 5 minutes, confused yet pleased in a weird sort of way.

You knew the spotting of the two of you had been buzz enough to place the two of you on the trending charts. However, something had been off with his demeanor. He seemed distant after receiving that text. Like he had mentally checked out of the present as he shuffled from the museum to your car and to the restaurant down the street where you had vaguely heard of another meeting.

It bothered you in a way that you couldn’t quite understand. It wasn’t like you were disappointed necessarily, just surprised at the switch up. Here you were putting in an effort to make conversation and act like a good fake-girlfriend, yet he had completely written you off the moment you were allowed to drop the act.

If there was anything you were sure of, it was that this particular rendezvous had left you more hysterical than the meeting that morning. And that headache you had been suffering from that morning? It was back. And with a nasty vengeance this time.

[abitnotgoodiebag]

Blur

Title: Blur

Square Filled: I1 - Did they or didn’t they?

Warnings: drunkenness and terrible mental gymnastics

Word Count: 2,881

Summary: Sam thinks he needs an aspirin, better yet, he needs to get up outta here.

Link to AO3

Blur

Sam groans as he swims back into consciousness.  Both his brain and his tongue are unpleasantly fuzzy and he wants nothing more than a cool washcloth, a cold glass of water and complete darkness and silence for the next decade.  He is too old to be drinking himself into terrible hangovers.  He knows the importance of staying hydrated and yet, here he is again, wishing for death to claim him. Sam can certainly say that he has never been the best at making good decisions.

As Sam debates the pros and cons of moving from his comfortable cocoon, he becomes aware of the sounds of soft snores uncomfortably close to him.  He feels the body heat of someone else underneath the sheets of his (is it his?) bed. He also realizes very suddenly that he doesn’t have a single stitch of clothing on.

Shit.

Sam tries to think of who could possibly be behind him snuffling softly in slumber.  The fact that he’s naked probably means that they are too and Sam could slap himself for the second time in as many minutes.  The pounding in his head doesn’t help at all with his mood and Sam may have finally found the reason to quit drinking altogether.  Waking up with strangers in bed is definitely something that is part of his twenties, not to be done when he’s staring at the front steps of forty.

Sam curses the fact that he is the first one to wake up and debates whether or not moving will wake his bedmate.  His memories of the night before are patchy at best and the more he tries to piece together his time at the hotel, the more alarmed he becomes.

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

It was the one year anniversary of the battle against Thanos and Sam would rather have been anywhere else.  The country was not as accepting of Sam as they had been of Steve. Sam didn’t want to think too closely about why exactly that was (because it was way too easy to get angry and what would that solve?), but there were days that he just wished his detractors would say what they really meant, and not use their carefully-coded acrimonious checklists on why Sam would never be Steven Grant Rogers.  Every single decision Sam made was examined under a microscope in the media. /r/notmycap can’t go a week without some viral thread castigating him and slightly less often, Bucky (It’s always the ‘Winter Soldier’ or ‘The Asset’ though, they seem determined to remind the world that Bucky had a violent and unsavoury past).

If the bad press wasn’t enough, the list of full time Avengers was embarrassingly short.  The Defenders did their own thing, as did Reed’s little group. It almost wasn’t worth anyone’s time trying to talk to Charles Xavier unless the subject was mutant rights (not that there was a problem with that, Sam definitely knew how stupid people could be around anything they perceived as 'different').  No one wanted to work with the reformed psychopathic (his words, Sam wasn’t convinced) mercenary, well, Peter was trying to tell everyone that he wasn’t so bad but Sam wasn’t touching that with a ten foot pole.  Sam, Bucky, Rhodes, and Wanda were all that was left of the Avengers Initiative.  Sure they had emergency and consulting members, but the fact was, Sam was barely captain of anyone.

Sam’s cheerless thoughts had him spending his time at the bar, after quickly making the initial rounds to greet everyone.  He had to admit, Pepper knew how to throw a party.  While there weren’t a lot of full-time Avengers, Thanos had united the entire world against him, and so the rented ballroom (in the most fashionable of hotels) was full-to-bursting.  He scanned his eyes across the room taking in the small groups that didn’t quite mesh together. Thor and his new traveling companions, the Guardians of the Galaxy stood in a loose circle laughing entirely too loudly.  Thor finally found a group who also lacked inside voices, Sam was happy for him. He looked better than he did that day.  That too-long day that Sam went to battle in the fields Wakanda and ended the fight on the remains of their battered home in New York five years and mere seconds later.  

Sam was glad he wasn’t around to see Thor's slow slide into misery.  He had heard Steve (over the phone, Sam still can't quite look at his wrinkled face) tell him the stories of Thor’s grief at losing his father, brother, best friend, and planet within a week only to lose half of existence the very next day.  Sam couldn’t imagine that pain.

Sam dealt with a different sort of grief.  He had missed five years. Five years of his mother's life, five years of his niece’s life.  Unfortunately so had her mother, his sister.  Sam would never understand how his mother dealt with losing both of her children for five years, believing them gone for good.  His house and belongings were all long gone, leaving him and Bucky to scramble to find an apartment together in the aftermath on the ‘Unsnappening’ (fucking twitter called it that and unfortunately it seemed to be stuck).  He refused to put any more stress on his mom by moving back in when Kayla had to get used to her mother being back.  Besides, it was just easier to live with Barnes. He didn’t have any memories of those five years, as far as he could tell no one did, but he couldn’t help but feel it in his bones that he had spent the time with Bucky.

Shaking his head to dispel that line of thought, Sam looked for his best friend.  They had arrived together, as usual, but Bucky was quickly called over by Yo-Yo and Shaw, both of them eager to hang out with the soldier (he’d taken to being a SHIELD operative surprisingly well, all things considered, he even had work friends, Sam was proud of him).

Turning back to the bartender, Sam ordered an old fashioned.  He had recently discovered that between the two of them somehow Sam was the hipster, even though Bucky had refused to give up his ridiculous (fucking beautiful, if Sam was being honest) man bun.  Sam refused to listen to modern music (unless it was Beyonce, but really, it’s Beyonce it goes without saying) and read his paper at the table instead of staring at his phone all the time.  Sam couldn’t help it, he was an old soul and he had endured Bucky’s teasing goodnaturedly.  He absolutely drew the line at handlebar moustaches and penny-farthings though.

“Birdman number two!”  Clint said in what he probably thought was an acceptable volume, clapping Sam on the back.

Sam startled and grinned as he saw his fellow bird-themed hero.  “Barton! How is life treating you?”

“Can’t complain.”  He said with a cheeky smile as he leaned toward Sam and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “If I do, Laura will give me the old boot.  But I’d deserve it because she is the world’s greatest wife.”

“Damn right I am.”  Said Laura as she appeared next to her husband.

Sam sipped his drink and watched them bicker gently.  He loved that in a couple. Sure the schmoopy ones were cute and all, but life is always better with laughter and it was clear the Barton’s were full of laughter.  They excused themselves after two rounds, Laura saying that she was tired and Sam was once again left to his thoughts.

Before he could sink into them too deeply, his eyes landed on Bucky standing next to a scowling Valkyrie and taking a swig out of Thor’s comically enormous flask (Just because he was doing better didn’t mean that he wasn’t still struggling).  Sam smiled slowly at the blush that spread across Bucky’s face after his second long pull. Seems like Thor brought the good stuff.

Sam, armed with his bourbon and a liquid loss of inhibitions, (after the second old-fashioned, Sam wondered why he was even pretending to do anything other than get hammered and stopped bothering with anything more complicated) pushed away from the bar and headed in Bucky’s direction.  

“Hey there my good people.”  Sam smiled lightly as he reached Bucky, Thor, and Valkyrie.  “Is this the 5000 proof section?”

Bucky rolled his eyes fondly after his last pull and passed the flask to Val, Thor letting out a brief sad noise in his throat, knowing he wasn’t going to get another swig any time soon.  “Sure is, pigeon. This is the cool kids table and you can’t sit with us!”

“Ten points to Hufflepuff for correct use of Gretchen Wieners.”  Sam said as Bucky looked confused. Belatedly, Sam realized that they hadn’t gotten to the Harry Potter series yet, Bucky picking both Star Wars and Star Trek (every single iteration, Bucky was obsessed) instead.

“Friend Falcon-Captain!  It feels good to have a night of revelry with all of my shield-broth-”  Thor stopped, his smile faltering slightly. “My shield-mates! Let us toast!”

Sam tossed back the last few drops of his bourbon while Thor waited for Valkyrie to pass him the flask.  Bucky just snorted at Thor’s naivete and headed towards the bar to grab a less alien drink. He reappeared a minute later with three glasses and handed two to Sam and Thor respectively.  They clinked their glasses and drained half of their short tumblers as Valkyrie finally drained the flask.

Bucky and Valkyrie let out loud (and surprisingly deep) twin belches sending Thor and Sam into a fit of giggles.  Bucky joined in their laughter while Val just rolled her eyes and walked off in the direction of the bar, no doubt in search of a bottle or two to occupy her hands.

“What’s so funny?”  Shaw asked, coming up behind Sam and throwing his arm around Sam’s shoulder and resting his chin on the other one.  Yo-Yo circled around to bump robotic shoulders with Bucky causing Sam an immediate sharp flare of jealousy in his gut. Yo-Yo and Bucky shared too many similarities for Sam to not see her as a potential threat for Bucky’s time and affection.  

“Bucky was just showing us how to play the tummy pipes.”  Sam said, his words slightly slurred.  His laughter stopped abruptly.

Sam’s smile fell away and Bucky noticed immediately.  He glanced briefly to Shaw draped over Sam before he was somber as well, leaving Thor confused as to what exactly was happening.

“Oh-kaaaay.” Shaw drawled as he picked his head off of Sam’s shoulder, leaving his arm curled around Sam's neck.  Sam was confused, Shaw was Bucky’s friend, they’d met maybe 4 times total, but if Sam were to guess, he’d bet he was less intimidating to use as a prop than the once-king of Asgard or a super soldier.

Yo-Yo raised an eyebrow.  “It seems like we need to catch up with you guys.  I could smell you from a foot away.”

Shaw hummed in agreement even though he was clearly ahead of Yo-Yo too if his inability to stand up straight was any indication.  “Valkyrie went off for more, but I fear that she does not intend to share anything she finds.” Thor said, sounding vaguely disappointed.  “So I must go and fetch us another round!” He looked very proud of himself for thinking of that as he turned and strode away.

“He is amazing.”  Shaw sighed, “What’s his deal anyway?  Why doesn’t he stay here full-time?”

Bucky glared at Shaw and Sam watched on in confusion.  So now it’s not just Yo-Yo he has to worry about, now Bucky has a thing for Thor?  Sam (not for the first time) thinks sadly, that he’s just a man.  He’s no Inhuman, he has no enhancements, he’s from plain old Harlem, not some mythical planet, and he can’t call lightning with a thought.  He’s just Sam and maybe all he would do is slow Bucky down. So zoned out, Sam jerked when Shaw and Bucky laughed, making the room wobble unpleasantly. His obvious distraction just caused them to laugh harder while Yo-Yo’s lips curled into a small smile.

Sam, who realized he was the butt of some joke, flipped them off, making Shaw start all over again, finally taking his arm off Sam’s shoulder to cradle his midsection as he bent forward, cackling madly.

Thor returned with a tray full of shot glasses.  “Let us drink!”

“Damn big guy, you do not mess around, do you?”  Shaw sounded awestruck as he straightened up and Sam was not at all bitter about everyone’s obsessions with Thor.

Yo-Yo and Bucky grabbed two apiece, taking them in rapid succession just a hint of redness on their cheeks indicating that they were drinking anything other than water.

Shaw grabbed two shots, holding one out to Sam smiling wide, “Us normies gotta stick to our singles.  I can’t believe we’re more meat and no tech and still manage to be the lightweights.”

Sam laughed at Shaw’s dig, even as he seethed inside at Bucky leaning down to murmur something to Yo-Yo, eyes on Sam the whole time.  Thor ignored all of them in favor of knocking two shots back one-handed, looking disappointed at their flavor.

Sam, now unable to remember exactly how much he had already had, felt that being upright was overrated and sat down, hard.  Bucky glanced at him in concern, opening his mouth to ask if Sam was alright, but Sam glared back insolently and Bucky’s jaw snapped shut and he turned back to Yo-Yo who had been watching them in amusement.

Shaw grabbed two of the last four shots and again passed one down to Sam, shrugging.  “To bad choices!”  

Sam quickly echoed the toast and gulped the offered drink before clumsily getting off the floor, not finding it comfortable craning his neck up at everyone.  Yo-Yo ambled away, tray in hand, clearly off to refill it. Sam saw Bucky moving out of his peripheral vision, but by the time he turned his head to get a proper look, Bucky was nowhere to be seen.

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

Sam squeezes his eyes shut as he realizes that the last person he can remember talking to was that irksome weirdo, Deke Shaw.  Bucky had left him at the party alone with Shaw, clearly chasing after Yo-Yo. Sam is gripped by a combination of self-loathing and envy that almost chokes the air from him. He will never forgive himself if he has tumbled into bed with that asshole.  This whole situation is entirely backwards. He’s pining after a grumpy, nerdy, absolutely gorgeous white boy from the past, not a strange, trouble-magnet from god-knows-when in the weird-ass future.  

Sam knows who he wishes it was behind him.  Every day he tries his hardest to be the best friend (who is he kidding, he’s doing a great boyfriend audition and has been for months) to Bucky.  After living together for almost a year, they have a certain bond, but not quite the type Sam wants.  He thinks Bucky wants it too, most of the time, but Sam knows better than to try and rush something before its’ time.  Sam’s father always told him that anything worth having was worth waiting for if necessary and James Barnes was definitely worth having.

The person behind him snores loudly once, before Sam feels a hand reach around his middle, drawing him back into a firm torso.  Sam freezes immediately, afraid to look down and finally solve the mystery. The body he's trapped against is mostly warm. Mostly, because Sam can definitely feel the not-quite-cool smoothness of what Sam will bet everything he owns is vibranium against his shoulder blade.

Sam relaxes and very slowly, smiles.  All of the hatred at himself for possibly ending up with anyone else leaves him as almost quickly as it came.  He can't wait for Bucky to tell him everything.  Or Thor.  Or even Yo-Yo, even though Sam will make Bucky do all the talking if that's the route they have to go.  Sam is willing to bet he has some interesting message on his phone if he bothered to check it (If it was even still on at this point, who knows how late in the day it is).  Knowing that he’s lying here with Bucky surrounding him makes the not remembering much easier. He has no regrets other than not committing every single detail of the previous night to memory to constantly replay over and over and over again.

Satisfied that it is indeed Bucky he’s woken up with (Sam breathes in deep and could slap himself, how did he not smell the traces of his own body wash?  Bucky is always stealing it instead of using his boring bar of soap and smelling himself on Bucky drives Sam crazy) makes it easy to let his eyes fall shut and let the hangover pass. His best friend (and maybe, hopefully, probably, finally more) is curled around him keeping out the noise and light of the world and Sam needs to sleep this hangover off.  He smiles to himself as he focuses on the soft snores and drifts into a peaceful sleep. Sam knows that everything is going to be just dandy.

[creatingnikki]

Dearest Cat,

How has your experience as a 23-year-old been? I’m a month in – exactly – and I think it’s going pretty well. Of course, it’s not like I see any instant growth or changes but I see little new patterns and my stance growing stronger in things that matter, and it’s all been building for the last few years. It’s nice to see it getting finally materialised in actions, however.

I’m sorry about your breakup. I’ve never been in a long-term ‘official’ relationship but I have been in relationships that have fucked with my mind while breaking my heart so I know how it can significantly affect you for a while to come. And take it from someone who tried the long-distance thing for 6 months, it’s never worth it and it never works out anyway.

I have been, quite uncomfortably and amusingly, been watching a lot of Daniel Sloss stand up comedy and I literally just heard him talk about something I think you should hear too:

“When I was seven years old, my dad said something to me that to this day is the reason I will die alone. Very happily, I may add. But I was seven years old, I didn’t know what life was. I didn’t know what existence was, how the fuck would I know? So I thought I’d ask my dad ’cause he can fix a computer, so he must know. So I was like, “Dad, what do we all do? What’s the meaning of life? Why are we all here? What what the fuck?” And my dad loves his kids, so he wants to explain to his son in a way that he’ll understand, but unfortunately, his son’s a fuckhead. So he has to explain it in a way that a fuckhead will understand, and he accidentally did it perfectly, and it’s stuck with me since then.

This is what he said, right? I’m seven years old. He goes, “All right, buddy. Just imagine that your life, my life, everyone else’s individual life. Imagine all of our lives are like our own individual jigsaw puzzles. As we’re going through life, we’re just slowly piecing it together, bit by bit, based on experiences and lessons that we’ve learned until we get the best picture, but the thing is everyone has also lost the box for their jigsaw. So none of us know what the image we’re trying to make is, we’re just confidently fucking guessing. So the best way to do a jigsaw, when you don’t have the image to work off, is to start from the outside, the sides and the four corners. Family. Friends. Hobbies/interests. Job.

Now obviously, as you go through life, some of these bits are subject to change. Sometimes you’ll make new friends, and you’ll lose contact with old so you gotta move this corner around a bit. Sometimes you’ll get a job. That means you can’t have certain hobbies. You gotta decide then, “Do I want more me time or do I want more work time?” You gotta move the stuff around. Sometimes you’ll have a family member that dies, and they’ll leave a big hole in your life. In that moment you’ll have to find a way to fill that void, otherwise you’ll be incomplete forever. ”

Now, that made perfect sense to me, because I was seven years old. I fucking loved jigsaws. So I was like, “All right, okay. So once you’ve got the stuff on the outside, what’s the main bit of the image? What we are all working towards?” And he goes, “Well, that’s That’s the partner piece. You and this perfect person who you’ve never met before to come out of nowhere, fit your life perfectly, complete you and make you whole for the first time in your life, much like your mother did for me. ” Seven. Seven years old. I wish you just said, “Ice cream!” And we could have fucked off.

And even though what he said sounds sweet and whatever, what it manifested in my seven-year-old brain was this, “If you are not with someone, you are broken. If you are not with someone, you are incomplete. If you are not with someone, you are not whole. ”

And that’s not just something my dad made me feel, that’s something that we as a society have made every single child born in the last 40 years feel. Every Disney princess has a prince, every prince has a princess, every television show or movie always has a character in it that doesn’t want to be in a relationship. They’re happy with who they are. But then by the end of the series, guess what. They were wrong! They were wrong for wanting to be alone, what a fucking idiot. Everyone needs someone, yeah. They were just a toasty little marshmallow, weren’t they? It’s all to do with love.

Divorce, an entirely common thing that there is nothing wrong with. When you’re growing up and your friends’ parents get divorced, you’re told to not talk about it or mention it to them because it’s taboo, and it is taboo is because every relationship on the outside is perfect, because none of us are willing to admit that none of us know what the fuck we’re doing. And when you raise children in that world, where everything points towards love and everything’s perfect on the outside, when you’ve raised them for 18 fucking years, when we become an adult for the first time in our late teens and our early 20s, we’re so terrified.

We’re so trying to be an adult that some of us will take the wrong person, the wrong jigsaw piece and just fucking jam them into our jigsaws anyway, denying that they clearly don’t fit. Oh, we’ll move pieces out the way, I don’t need this hobby, I don’t need this opinion. Mom who? The bitch with the tits. What’s she done for me recently? I’m gonna force this fucking person into our lives because we’d much rather have something than nothing. Then five years later, you’re stood looking at a jigsaw you don’t recognize, being like, “Ah! There’s a fucking cunt in the middle of this.”

Maybe you do meet the perfect person. Maybe you meet them, you go out. They make you laugh. You make them laugh. They’ve got a stupid laugh, but you fucking love it. They like what you like. They like your idiosyncrasies. It’s great. It’s perfect. Oh, my God, they’ve completed you. For three months. Every relationship is perfect for three months. And here’s why. ‘Cause after three months, that’s when you realize that nobody else is a jigsaw piece.

Everyone else on this planet is as deep and as complex and individual as you are, which means they too have spent the last 20 or so years of their life working on their own jigsaw puzzle, in the same way that you’ve been working on yours. You can’t suddenly expect them to give up everything they’ve come to achieve to suddenly fit into yours in the same way that you’d be pissed off if they asked you to sacrifice everything you’ve done, suddenly come fit into theirs, but now, because you like each other and because you’re interested in each other, now you have to make a jigsaw together. And we all know how fucking annoying that is. But you do it ’cause you’re in love and you’re interested, and maybe for the first couple years, it’s great. It’s like, “Oh, my God, you love this bit of me. I love this bit of you. Oh, my God, we got the same thing, yeah!” 

But time does not equal success. You can spend five or more years with someone, and only then, after all the fun you had, be looking at the jigsaw and realize you’re both working towards very different images. Only then realize that you want different things. And in that moment, you have a very, very difficult question to ask yourself. One. Do I admit the last five years of my life have been a waste? Two. Do I waste the rest of my life? 55% of marriages end in divorce. 99. 0% of relationships that started before they are 30 end. If those were the stats for surgery, none of us would fucking risk it. But because it’s love and we’re stupid, we just lie on the operating table like, “Maybe this time I won’t die inside. ” My generation has become so obsessed with starting the rest of their lives that they’re willing to give up the one they are currently living. We have romanticized the idea of romance, and it is cancerous. People are more in love with the idea of love than the person they are with.”

You should definitely watch his whole special on Netflix. That guy makes you uncomfortable. But he also makes you laugh. And sometimes, like in his above sketch, he makes you really think.

I think he has said all I would want to tell you about your break up – and I hope it’s helpful because I spent 30 minutes trying to find its transcript haha. And I don’t know what his conclusion really is, I still have the rest of the show to watch, but I think….I think love will come to us when it has to. Until then we just have to live our lives with joy and love for ourselves anyway.

Your meaning of love…I described something similar when I spent 13th Feb – the night before Valentine’s Day making my profile on Hinge. And that’s the thing that most people don’t understand – while 90% people I know first care about the physical appearance of the person, I care about whether we connect and have a spark. Whether we can make each other laugh and kinda just be at the same level/frequency. As you said…Connection of minds and souls and knowing each other to your core. Interestingly, there’s something that hit me like a fucking truck a few months ago and I scribbled it down before it had the chance to move on and leave me confused:

All this. Writing in your journal, underlining sentences in books, taking pictures you’ll never put up on social media or show anyone. All this is your consistent and earnest effort to try to communicate and connect with your past self and get to know your future self and coordinate between the three dimensions of who you were, are and will be. It’s all for you. By you. No one else needs to validate you. Or understand you. Or question you. It’s not their place, it never was.

You need to realize the person your past self was trying to become. The person your future self will need to be. You need to have patience when you can’t figure it out. When you feel betrayed. Because no matter how lacking you may be, you will never have any malicious intentions. You’ll not be flaky, you’ll not be weak, you’ll not throw yourself under the bus. Writing letters to yourself, making playlists so meticulously to capture every season, every mood and continuing despite being uncertain and confused…it’s all you reaching out to yourself.

And I think…it’s when we’re earnestly and constantly trying to connect with ourselves when we come across a person who does the same…we will easily and naturally connect with them, their energy.

I realize that due to the Jigsaw sketch by Daniel Sloss this letter has gotten pretty lengthy. But I still want to talk to you for some more. I hope you’re with me and have connected with my words up until now

About the work friends and how they were there for you and made you feel…isn’t that one of the most comforting, lovely and reliving things? Kinda unexpected too, no? I remember last year, a random lunch on a random workday, I looked around at these 4 smart, brilliant, kind and strong women – my co-workers and friends – at the round lunch table talking about meaningful things – personal and worldly – as we always did and just thinking – wow, finally, I finally belong! I’ve always been a very one-to-one person when it came to friends and was never part of a group (other than groups that feel absolutely uncomfortable and unwelcomed) that was so accepting, loving, sensitive and sincere. And smart! Gosh, so damn smart!

Soon after, each of us left that company – horrible management – and it’s been a year now. We are in touch but of course, it’s never going to be the same as before. And that’s okay. Just thinking of those times and them is enough to make me feel as loved and accepted as I did back in those days. And that’s what I want to tell you – you will come across such people who will truly care about you and help you nurture yourself but their life will overlap with yours just for a while. As a child, this would make me sad and angry! Now, it only makes me super grateful and mindful about being present in the moment that is now, in the life I am living right now. And I hope you can too

So, Cat, I don’t know how many months you have of being 23 but I hope they are all, as well as the coming years, full of connecting with yourself, with people that genuinely care about your well-being and growth and with everything that brings you joy and peace.

Lots of love,

Nikki

I wrote this letter for Nura basis some questions they answered. You can read the questions and their answers here. 

Guys - I have received 29 people’s responses for The Love Project - 29 days of love letters. So I won’t be accepting anymore, however, you can read other letters here. 

I may do this again later in the year and if you would want to receive a love letter from me then, you can drop in your email ID here xoxo

[porrimalovesstories]

A Love Story

dedicated to: @taylorswift, @taylors-flutterby @cruelafterglow and @swiftonic13

I hope you like the stories.

I know the birthday is tomorrow. But hey, it is nice to have it ready, isn’t it?

Beta readers: @maybeillride and @taylors-flutterby

His songs: @taylorwift “So It Goes”,  “Dancing With Our Hands Tied”  “Enchanted”  and the Beatles, “Old Brown Shoes”

PART I: HIS STORY

He was simply standing there, watching her. Had he been able to, he would not have breathed. He was afraid that she would notice his presence, and disturb her process of thinking. She could have been writing a masterpiece, a record breaking song and because of him, she could never finish it. He would never forgive himself if that ever happened.

He had seen the similar image two months ago. Only at that time, she had been standing in front of a a display case contained with something blue; if he recalled correctly, it was a glass flask with a shape of a mouse and a snake.

Now, she was sitting at the piano. Instead of blue, the light that hit her face was pale yellow, coming from the lamp table on her left side. She did not wear any make up and her no longer bleached hair was tied to the back.

Her face had been haunting him since that night, coming to his dreams uninvited, making him unable to think straight every time he heard her name.

Had she not been the one who conquered music charts for ages, it would have been easier.

But how to forget somebody, whose face, voice and name is the talk of the town? Everywhere you go, she is there. At the cinemas, in the radio, television, newspaper.... even internet.

He scoffed. Especially the internet. He stopped reading the comments after he had read somebody call her a liar for the tenth time. This is not the way to get to know her, he thought at that time. If he ever had a chance to get to know her. If he actually did, he wanted to start with a clean slate.

A fool's dream, he told himself many times. A dream that had been shattered by images of her and her new boyfriend, which were plastered all over the place.

Suddenly she turned around. She must have heard his scoffing. “Oh, sorry. I didn't wake you up, did I?”

He cleared his throat. That pale face gave him a smile. He wished she had not done that. That smile was forced. It made her face look eerie. “No, you didn't. I have to wake up early. My flight to London is in about... oh,” he checked his watch. “Four hours.” Which he hoped it was not.

“Oh. I will be the only one that stays, then.”

“Yeah, I wish I could stay longer,” he sighed. He really did. “But I have nothing else to do here. And I kinda miss my dog.”

“You're a dog person.”

Why does it sound like it is a crime, he wondered. “Yeah....”

“I am more like a cat person.”

“My father made a documentary about Bastet once....”

“No way!” her eyes widened.

“Not exactly about Bastet, it was more about The Cult of Ra....,”

“Oh, I think I saw that movie. Isn't it the one with that Oxford Egyptology Professor … what was his name again? Oh, I would love to meet him and talk about Bastet.”

And just like that, she started telling him what she liked about the movie (he told her, she made someone at home very happy; he also made a mental note to ask his father the name of the professor) and then about the habit of her cats. One of them in particular, liked to sit in her favorite jeans – the one she normally used for traveling because it was comfortable – as if her cat had known that she would leave. “You know, I think cats are the most independent creatures. They never listen to you. They always do whatever they like.”

“Maybe because they are the descendants of the Goddess of Lion, the protector of Ra, the God of sun?”

“I've been saying that! Thank you,” those blue eyes got brightened, but then, she sighed. “I sound like an old cat lady, don't I?”

“Yeah, a bit,” he winked. “Are you sure you only have two cats? You know, just checking...”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips were smiling. Oh, those lips... he turned his face away. He really should have not thought about her. Her lips or any part of her body.

“Hey, you want some coffee?” she got up. “I could make a mean coffee.”

“I prefer tea, actually.”

“Georgia must have some tea somewhere. What do you like?”

“Peppermint tea, but I prefer hibiscus tea, if we have them.”

Her face was twisted. “Is that even a tea? Ugh. Stay away from me if you drink that colored water, otherwise I'll lock myself up in the attic.”

He laughed. Ah, this woman.... even in the days where everybody seemed to have found bad things about her, she still managed to joke around and brought laughter. “You are so overly dramatic, you know that?”

She looked at him. And for the first time, he saw something in her face that he could not really explain. It was as if the light had just brightened her face and the cloudy look in her eyes was disappeared. Perhaps that is how an angel looks like, because nobody can look that beautiful and breathtaking.

“When do you have to leave?” her question saved him from continuing glaring. One more second, perhaps his jaws would have been found on the floor.

“The flight is in four hours, but I prefer to leave a bit early. So perhaps I have two hours?”

“Then we should have our breakfast.”

Before he knew it, he was sitting at the table, eating some pancakes that she had made. Perfect round golden pancakes. They smelt so wonderful he drooled. “This is so good,” several times he commented it while shoving the pancake into his mouth. “So good. Maybe you should thinking about opening some cafe,” he teased her. “God, this is so good.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, I might. You know I love baking, right? I am very good in making cookies. My fans love it.”

“You sell cookies to your fans?” soon after, he felt goddamn stupid asking that question. Of course she didn't, you idiot. That look of shock on her face.... god, even if the earth had swallowed him, it would not have been able to save him from this embarrassment. He felt his cheeks hot. They must have been burning red by now.

“I make them some cookies when they come to my house and sometimes cake.”

To avoid any further embarrassment, he preferred not to ask any question.

“You must have known it, it is all over the media,” she continued, still in disbelief.

“I don't read that kinda stuff,” he swallowed the last piece of the pancake. A big chunk. He would rather not be able to speak than to say the wrong words.

“'That kinda stuff'” she quoted the words, “is actually part of my life.”

Those words hit him hard. He realized now how strong the blows that she had received lately. Even as an outsider, he was unable to stomach reading the comments toward her under any article, video, or post on twitter or Instagram. Imagining on her position: treated as less than a mere object, that was analyzed from every possible angle, accused, dragged, and spat on without any consideration or whatsoever... god, that had got to be hard.

Honestly, had he been her, he would not have known how to survive it, let alone, standing here in the kitchen, fixing some breakfast for a stranger. He would have spent days drinking, or using her words, locking himself up somewhere in the attic...

“I know, people think that I used my fans for marketing purposes only. But they are wrong. Fans are very important to me, you know, to develop and to enrich my music, to grow in it. I love having them in my house and talking to them. Listen to them, exchanging ideas, sharing experiences.”

He cleared the rest of the pancake with his green tea. “You are not afraid that they are being obsessed, and thinking of you as more than an idol? I mean, some might think that you are their girlfriend, or imaginary married to you?”

“Yeah, of course. I am not stupid. I take precaution against that. Learning a bit about martial art, and carry around some first aid kit.”

“Any planning to make a new album? When you have a plan to invite your fans to your house, give me a call; I'll drop my schedule and fly to you.”

She looked at him. Those blue eyes flickered.

And he felt stupider than before. That was the worst pick up line he could come up with. Was it too obvious?

“It is not easy to be seen with me,” she turned her face away. Now, those eyes were again covered with soft misty cloud. He hated it. That look made her impenetrable. It took her away from him, blocked his view with thick walls, and made her even more unreachable than before.

“Your new boyfriend apparently doesn't think so,” he growled. He realized, he sounded like a jealous ex, but he did not care.

“So you did read that kinda stuff.”

Yeah, he had. And it had almost killed him (now who was being overly dramatic, he wondered). Seeing them together, walking on the beach, on the street, at the cafe... some thought it had been a publicity stunt... yeah, he wished, somebody had told his heart that. Because every time he saw them together, he felt as if something had stabbed his chest with a flaming knife. It was hot and painful.

“Yes, I did; but I stop reading things about you after awhile.”

“Why?”

“Why I read, or why I stop reading them?”

She shrugged. “Both, I guess.”

What to say? How to say it? He wondered. Honesty? Lie? “I saw you at the MET, and I was curious,” he decided to be honest. Not entirely. Because how to say to a girl, that you are interested in her, because she reminds you to morning sky, to the time where you can be yourself and see things clearly? “All I could find is accusation, insults, name-calling – to put it lightly – so I stop. I just think it is not a way to get to know you or anybody else in general.

“I know, we are in a business, which image and reputation are very important. We can't afford to make any wrong step. We always have to fit in the image that either we create or others create for ourselves. But how far will we go? What are we willing to do to keep that image?

“My mother gave me a book, when I told her that I wanted to enroll in the drama school. It's a play from Tennessee Williams, Sweet Bird of Youth...”

“Oh, I love that movie, you know, with Paul Newman?”

“I am not sure I watched it,” he tried to remember it... The Sting, check. Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid, check. Exodus, check. The Young Philadelphians, check. The Hustler, check...nope, not Sweet Bird of Youth. He made a mental note to get that movie somehow.

“What I want to say is, I suppose, my mother wants to remind me not to lose myself, just like Chase Wayne in the play, not to sacrifice everything in the sake of fame and reputation. Or perhaps like the Princess, not to lose our self-confidence and understanding, only because we care too much about what people might say about our arts.

“Especially in the time in which we are living. We are given the tools and opportunity to have a direct contact with our public. To hear what they have to say: either it's criticism or praise. But the question is how far are we letting them form us; how far are we letting them validating our arts, or even our existences?

“How do we tell the difference between criticism and insults? Between praise and ass-kissing? Are we going to dance to their music, or are we going to dance to our own, even with the risk, that nobody will want us anymore?”

“And? Did you find the answers of all those questions?”

He shook his head. “That's why I take the book wherever I go. You know, as a reminder.”

She sighed.

Don't do that. He begged in his mind. It was hard already to talk to her, trying the best he could not to sound starstruck, let alone to hear her sighing like that. He drank his tea hastily with a hope that it would calm down his heartbeat.

He forced himself to focus by looking at his watch. One hour to go.

“Have you been in Vesterbro before? Because if you can stay a bit longer, I can show you around....if you haven't...”

Her question almost made him jump. No! Yes! He meant, no, he had never been in Vertebro before. Doing some hours of shooting and interview were not the same with being in a place. And yes, of course he would stay longer. “When will you fly to New York?”

“Oh, I don't know if I return to New York. I might fly back home to my parents. In a week or two.”

“Let me check my schedule,” he took out his phone, checked his calendar, “Hmh, I will have to be in New York in ten days. Probably, my agent will call me Tuesday for the confirmation. So, yeah, I can stay. I rather feel uncomfortable to leave you alone, actually.”

“Mr. Allen is here and I can call my brother to come.”

Mr. Allen was her head of security. A six feet two man, all muscles, short hair cut with eyes like an eagle's. He did not say much, and always in alert. But when he talked, his voice was warm and the way he laughed, he-he-he, it changed him somehow into an adorable bear.

And her brother... he never met him. But surely he shared the same features with his sister. Blond hair, blue eyes, tall and slender, full lips, and skin like porcelain... he wondered, if her skin was as smooth as the porcelain... and he wondered how she smelt. Because now, the kitchen smelt mix of melted butter, vanilla, sugar and flour... good, and made his mouth watery... and she smelt of all of those, but certainly she would not use that combination as perfume. On second thought, he did not mind it at all.

Their eyes met.

He wanted to apologize for staring at her, but a shy little smile at the corner of her lips changed his mind. Obviously, she liked him staring at her like a starstruck boy. Otherwise, why would she invited him to stay longer? “I'll contact the airline. You have any idea what to do later?”

“Nope,” she sipped her coffee. “No coffee, no idea.”

He chuckled. Did she have to be funny as well?

That day they spent most of the time at the house, planning what to do and where to go. She talked about parts of Vesterbro they should visit, like Riccos kaffebar (the best coffee shop ever, she said.), or Blomsten, a cafe she always visited when she was in town.

“I can call the owner; they can close down the cafe just for us.”

“Where's the fun in that?” he asked.

“I can't go out without causing any spectacle, it is like the circus comes to town, and for the moment, I am the biggest circus there is.”

“Hmh,” he looked at her up and down, “as long as you are the snake lady, I am fine with it. All fierce and sexy....” he bit his lower lip. Shit, that was too fast. Her eyes were wide open. Shit, shit, shit. Now, she would get angry, and this spontaneous holiday would get ruined. He might as well prepare to call the airline again for a changed schedule and get his ticket back. He flew to London after all.

“You know what,” some extra lines appeared on her forehead. “I think you are more Jack London than Tennessee Williams. I mean, T.W was more flamboyant, but actually struggling, inert, and swallowed his angers and frustration and turned it into masterpiece. But you, you are more like that church-goer-son-in-law kinda type, but wild and hunger of adventure, just like Jack London.”

“Is that so? What are you, then? The 21st Tennessee Williams, who changes her struggles, angers and frustrations into masterpieces?” He smiled.

Her face looked thoughtful.

It was difficult for him not to sigh. How can she even look more beautiful? As if, there was a soft layer of air that covered that face. He could not tell, whether it was remorse or sadness, but the image he was witnessing right now, reminded him to the face of the woman in Monet painting, holding umbrella, under the bright blue sky, but clearly fighting against the wind.

Graceful. That would be the word. Neither remorse nor sadness, but graceful, just like Lady from Orpheus Descending: a woman who tried to live bravely and honestly, even when the world around her was crumbling down. And who was he? Val? A wanderer, a vagabond, who tried to make a place of his own in that crumbling world?

He smiled. “You are,” he braved himself, “Tennessee to me.”

She smiled. Those eyes turned into two small lines, and her nose cringed.

He felt his heart miss a beat. Was that her genuine smile? Had he really made her smile?

“Don't be too serious, London. My songs are good, I admit; but not so good that can be compared to Tennessee Williams'.”

“Did you just call me 'London'? As London with his Big Ben or ….”

“Ha!” she choked. Obviously, her coffee had entered the wrong throat. “Jack London, silly boy. Jack London, not London with his big....” she stopped her sentence. Now, her face was bright red, realizing what she was about to say.

“Tsk,” he winked. A pity, but, “I can accept that. It is an honor to be compared with Jack London. But don't call me 'boy',” he pointed at himself, “Twenty five years old... two three years younger than you, give or take?”

She shrugged. “Yeah.”

Yeah what? That he was younger than her or that she would not call him 'boy'?

Before he could ask, her phone rang. She gave him a sign not to say anything. Then she got up, and left him. Whoever on the phone was, it must have been a very special person, because he did not see her anymore until dinner time. After dinner, she excused herself to go back to her room; he could not do anything else, except saying, “Of course.”

The empty room looked even bigger now that nobody was there, and the traces of the party had been cleaned up. The books, the furniture were back to where they had been before. At the corner, beside the fireplace was a painting of a huge black and red snake: a copy of a famous Danish contemporary artist's work. Georgia went ballistic when she saw it. It was not because of the painting itself, but it was whom that painting was given to. Whoever bought that painting was no longer a friend of hers. And they would better be careful to say or do, because Georgia would make sure that they would go to hell and back.

Georgia's reaction had made him relieved. She had friends. Real friends who stood by her no matter what happened.

“Something interesting about the painting?” her voice made him turnaround. She stood at the end of the stairs that led to the sleeping rooms above. In her right hand was a big glass of red wine, and in her left hand was a green guitar. He wondered, how many guitars did she own or bring with her? Because two days ago, at the party, she had played with a pink guitar.

“I was thinking about Georgia's reaction.”

“Yeah, she is very protective sometimes,” she sat down and put the wine glass on the table. “It's nice to have a friend like Georgia.”

He nodded. “But you were also cool. I would kick whoever gave that present out of my life.”

She shrugged. “What's the point? I can't do anything right these days anyway. What are you reading?”

“Oh, a script my agent sent me a week ago. An English tradition, a story about the kings and queens.”

“Interesting?”

“Very. Only, I am not sure if I can play the character, which was once played by Fiennes. The shoes are  too big to fill in.”

“Ralph or Joseph?”

“Does it matter?”

“But that's the challenge, isn't it? To make a character as your own, for better or worse.”

He wanted to ask, how did she know, when a thought came to him. She had made it in her own world; she had started from the scratch. Of course she knows the meaning of struggles in the world, that is dominated by big money and people who are not exactly kind to beginners and women.

“It's like when I sing a cover version of a song, I have to make sure that the song stays true to the original and at the same time add my own interpretation to it. Quite tricky, to be honest. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. Do you sing?”

He snorted. “Only under the shower.”

She started picking her guitar's strings. “Like this song, “I am so lonesome I could cry” from Hank Williams. It was Hank's, but played by Elvis, it became Elvis's. The emotions Elvis put in that song... God, I wish I had an ounce of it.”

“And it will be yours, when you play it?”

“Oh, their shoes are definitely too big for me, and I will not even dare to try it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. Sometimes we just have to know where our borderline is. And this is absolutely mine. Never touch Hank Williams or Elvis Presley,” those eyes suddenly became blurry. “I used to think, you know, if I expanded my borderline to widen my horizon, to include everybody, every wishes, everything would be fine. Now, I don't know anymore,” she smiled, clearly forced. And he hate it. “So, what are your most favorite songs?”

“Old Brown Shoes, The Beatles,” he answered without thinking.

“Good choice,” she started playing the tune.

Soon enough, they sang the song. As they looked into each other eyes, the lyrics felt more like mantras than lyrics. Declaring their loves, promising to each other that nothing would be the same anymore for any of them.

Or at least in his part. Each lyric was true. He was in love with her. She had stolen his heart since the first moment he saw her and he hoped, that he would not be too late, or that she would not be too late to realize how he felt about her. And he made a promise to himself, he would help her escape the zoo called social media and the press.

He found himself sitting beside her when the song ended. Their faces were so close their noses almost touched each other.

“That was a good song,” she whispered. Her warm breath touched his face.

He wanted to kiss her, desperately. Those red cherry lips were very inviting, and his blood was boiling. From the look in her eyes, she wanted it too. But he knew. She had a boyfriend. The last thing he wanted was to give her a feeling of committing a cheat...unless she made the first move. Till then, he would wait.

Slowly he withdrew himself. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, George Harrison, my favourite.” He stood up. He would better go now. He was not sure if he could control himself, if he stayed beside her any moment longer.

She caught his hand. “You were right. We should go out and have some fun tomorrow. I'll talk to Mr. Allen how to do it.”

Her finger tips were rough. The scars from guitar's strings obviously.

“Yeah, we shall do that,” he touched her finger tips with his. Smiling, he said, “Let's have some fun.”

*

After breakfast, Mr. Allen gave them tips and tricks to avoid being recognized in public. No credit card,  no fancy clothes. Plain jeans and t-shirt would help a lot. Hats and sunglasses could help, but not necessary. People did not always wear them. And tourists attractions were recipes for disaster. It would take only one person to recognize her, and soon enough Vesterbro would be infested by hordes of paparazzi and god knows what else.

Mr. Allen would contact some people who knew some people to make sure that no journalist caught wind about her present on the street of Vesterbro.

He felt silly, realizing he only had some pound and Euros; she had only American dollars. No danish crown.

But Mr. Allen did not become her head of security for nothing. He was prepared. He always is.

Then for the next days they explored the town. It took some time to get her relaxed and not to look over her shoulder every time somebody came to them. Especially on the first day. When she walked with her shoulder slouched, her head down, and she refused to have any eye contact. At first, he thought about having a conversation about the history of Vesterbro or Denmark in general, when he realized, he did not know much about it. Besides, she might have interest in Egyptology due to the fact that she had cats. Who could tell that she had interests in history?

The thought had somehow waken him up. He knew nothing about her apart from the 'news' he read about her in the media. A mere image, that was created to serve one thing: business. Now that the image had been tarnished, what would she do? Would she hold on dearly to it, create something new or try to find the truth in her?

He hoped, she would choose the last one. And he would be there. Whether as a friend or more.

As the time went by, she was more relaxed. Nobody had approached her for signature or selfies. That was a good sign. Whether nobody recognized her, they did not care, or the Danes were simply too polite, he was not sure. Whatever it was, he hoped that it would last.

Because he loved seeing how she changed. Just like early dawn, when the sun slowly rises up on the East, her eyes started lightening up anything she gazed upon. The blushes on her cheeks were as rosy as the sky touched by the soft red shimmering light of the sun. He could not stop smiling as he saw her laughing.

How to describe the way she laughed...hmh, it was loud and high pitched. She threw her head backwards, and her slender body shook. Then, the longer she laughed, that high-pitched noise got higher and he could not hear the sound anymore. But the thing that took him the most was her eyes. Her eyes got smaller, but the light that shone from them was like the eyes of a child at the Christmas morning, sitting beside the Christmas tree, opening her present.

Oh, he would give anything to keep her laughing like that.

He would also give anything to spend the evening with her just like what they did after the long day of sight-seeing. Sitting on the sofa, with legs stretched, either – they talked about the beauty of Det Ny Theatre building, the books they saw at a second hand book store, called, Ingmars Hjørne  named after Ingmar Bergman, according to the owner.  He did not want to imagine what kind of books they sold, but she spent quite some time, talking to the owner, ordering some books) – or vigorously trying to find the recipe of kanelsnegle (which was a cinnamon roll) they ate during coffee break, or the hvedebrød (something he did not even bother to ask. He could not pronounce it, let alone had the idea to make it). He also loved being together in silence. He read his script, meanwhile she would be at the piano or having guitar on her lap and started strumming. Either singing some songs and writing some new songs, it did not matter.

What mattered was he was there with her. Alone. She, one of the biggest pop stars that is, the most wanted – both in the positive and negative meaning – was alone with him, in a rented house, somewhere in the center of the capital city of young tourists such as themselves. It was almost a dream comes true moment. Maybe it was.

Tomorrow, he would have to leave to London. She would probably stay. He did not know when they would have moments like this again. If they would have, that might be the more precise words. She would return to her boyfriend, and he... oh, it would sound pathetic, but he would probably focus on scripts and books that either he chose or his agent sent to him.

“You are quiet,” her voice startled him.

“I am not sure what you mean. I am always quiet when you play.”

“Yes, but your head thinks, so loud, even Mr. Allen can hear it.”

“Oh, Mr. Allen can hear even the drop of a needle at the square market, if that needle is aimed at you.”

“That's true,” she put her guitar aside. “So tell me, what were you thinking about?”

He closed his book. “Our time together and how fast it went by,” he put his head on the back of the sofa. He would miss it, that was for sure. “I know, Mr Allen has done a very good job, and I am sure I have nothing to worry about....”

The end of his sentence hanged on the air. They looked at each other. He realized he did not need to finish it. The look in her eyes told him she had the same thought. Neither he nor she wanted the days to be over.

He wished he could tell her the only thing she had to do was to ask him to stay, and he would have done it. It would be a lie, and both of them knew it. He had some schedules in London waiting, and she had schedules of her own and a boyfriend....

The thoughts made his chest hot.

“You call me if you come to New York?” her question was almost like a whisper. Obviously, they had been on the same page.

He nodded. “Hey...,” he put down his book and came to her as he saw tears roll down her cheek. “Hey...,” but before he reached her, she already ran into his arms. He held her tight. He wanted to tell her a lot of things. The promise that he would visit her in New York or any place she had her concert, or that he would call her day and night until she got bored hearing his ring tone, how much he was going to miss their days together, how much he missed her... but all those words sounded empty in his ears.

Her warm body rubbed his like flint and steel being rubbed against each other and sparked fire. He closed his eyes as he felt his heart beat faster and his lower body part got hardened. For a moment he wanted to apologize, but as she seemed not to have been bothered by it, he tightened his embrace.

Slowly she raised her face. Tears were still rolling, but she smiled. “Thank you for being here. I had such a good time.”

“We should do it again some time.”

“If you come to New York...,”

“Or you come to London....”

“You know what they say, I might write some songs about you.”

“Cool. Nobody writes any song about me before.”

“Don't say I didn't warn you.”

“Fair enough. I have been warned,” he wiped off the tears on her cheek. “I take that as a challenge.”

They spent the evening by sitting side by side; he read and she strummed her guitar. When he said goodnight, she continued sitting.

On his bed, he laid wide awake, listening to the sound of piano she played. So haunting, as if she was questioning herself about many things. How he wished to go down and sit beside her, trying to convince her that she could rely on him on many things. Everything.

But he knew, by doing so, it would look as if he questioned her ability to deal with the problems herself. She is a woman. She knew her own strengths and her weaknesses. She did not need a man to babysit her. When she needed any help, she knew how to get it. And when the time came, he would be there. He would make sure that she knew she could count on him.

Until then, he would wait. He smiled. Yes, he would wait.

*

Her face was as pale as the morning moon as she bid him farewell. She had not slept, she said. She had written some new ideas for some songs. Teasingly she told him, they were about him. He smiled and said, he felt honored already.

She gave him a goodbye present wrapped in green paper. “Open it when you are in the car or in plane,” she said as she handed it to him. “Go,” as he was about to say thank you. “You can thank me later, but only if you like it.”

Her figure was getting smaller as the car drove by. Her blond hair shimmered under the soft light of the sun. Wrapped in pale pink cardigan, she looked frail. But as she walked inside, he saw her walking with straightened body and head upheld high.

He smiled. As frail as she might seem, he would not dare to cross her. She was different from the woman he had seen a week ago. If that figure was only a small part of her, a woman who had been fighting for her whole professional life to be on the top, he could not imagine how she would look like when her fighting spirit returned.

Slowly he opened the present. A card with a picture of cats (his smile widened, of course, what else?), and a hard cover edition of The Iron Heel from Jack London. On the card it was written, “This is my favorite book. Let's talk about it when we see each other again. Call me.”

On the book's first page, she wrote, Don't let me be a Meredith of any story, spoiling every chance of joy. Tennessee (TNS).

He closed the book and turned around. He could not see the house anymore. But he knew, she would be waiting. Or if he was lucky enough, she would come to him. And when she did, he would be ready.

*

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Human (DBH; Markus x Reader)

A/N: I just finished watching a playthrough of Detroit: Become Human and I’m lowkey obsessed, and Markus definitely doesn’t get the love and support he deserves. So here’s me, doing the thing. :B

Once again, a piece that started out as an imagine and then ended up being so much longer.

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Like my work? Leave me a tip! --> ko-fi.com/imaginationnation

~~~

Markus looked on with an expression of both wonder and horror at the rows of skinless androids in the abandoned warehouse. Standing next to him, you were restlessly wringing your hands; it was a little difficult to not be nervous standing so close the leader of the android revolution. Until the recent outbreak of deviants and the completely reasonable uprising for androids rights, you had never seen androids showing explicit emotion, so it was still a little jarring to see Markus expressing such strong ones.

“How did you--” Markus wondered aloud, “And on your own? How many are here-- How many camps-- In one night?”

You couldn’t help the small, brief smile that ghosted your lips; it was a truly marvelous thing, seeing these people that were once mindless slaves being anything but said slaves anymore. They were alive and they were fighting.

Markus’s hetero-chromatic eyes shifted and you felt your face heat up as you quickly shifted your gaze to recall the information he was asking for. “Four camps, one night. I probably could have hit more with allies but with everything that was going on, and then people reacting to your march the way they did--media calling you terrorists, the dumb bastards--”

“Humans are scared of change,” Markus intervened; your heart fluttered with disbelief at his gentle tone. “They’re not sure how to react.”

“Well,” you said, meeting his eyes with a scowl, “with our history, we should know by now that genocide isn’t it. So I will not be taking back my dumb bastards comment.”

You were surprised again when Markus’s mismatching eyes sparkled with a brief amusement. “I never said I didn’t disagree with you.”

Pretty eyes, you thought, then scolded yourself for doing so. Not the time. “Anyway, four camps in one night. I couldn’t really talk to any humans because it’s hell trying to figure out which ones actually have a heart, and I wasn’t sure if your people--you and your active group, I mean--would trust me. So I figured, um, hijacking a weapons truck and a soldier’s uniform after I whacked him over the head with a magazine tablet.”

“Also,” you suddenly added, looking Markus in the eye again, “I don’t know if you know this but as you can see, obviously, a lot of these guys aren’t deviant.” You gestured at the abundance of careful rows, much greater in number than the scarcer groups of deviants, huddled haphazardly near the warehouse’s walls with their skins reactivated. “So--and I apologize if this comes off as ignorant--from what I’ve seen the newer... models--again, I apologize if you don’t like that word; just let me know what you’d prefer-- Generations maybe? Sorry. So, it appears that only the newer generations can wake each other up, bring each other to their senses, like you and that detective Connor can. Like the group that Connor led to march. The current generations, aka basically every android up until you, Connor, and the ones straight from the Cyberlife hub, can’t do that. They’re stuck to waking up via their own accord--” You briefly gestured to one of the deviant huddles. “--or by someone like you.” You waved a hand towards the carefully organized rows of still skinless androids, waiting silently on standby for masters’ orders that wouldn’t come. “Unfortunately, most, if not all, of your generation, the one with that capability, are here in Detroit.”

Markus had been listening to you intently, and your heart ached as you watched his expression turn sour, the tired resignation of a soldier who wanted a war’s end that he knew wasn’t coming any time soon. Perhaps against your better judgement, you thought, you placed a steady hand against the man’s arm. His reaction was an appreciative glance rather than that of shaking you off, giving you the assumption that he had been luckier than most androids; he had known a human that was kind.

“Worry about the people around you for now,” you murmured, “Wake the ones here up and show them the good that you’ve done so far. Then, later, when your people are settled and healed, you can make those bigger strides.” You paused, then added with a bit of hesitance edging your voice, “On my routes to camps, I made plans to get to as many camps as I could. I’ve thought up ideas and sketched out maps. I know I’m no incredibly intelligent being or anything but I like to think they’re decently thought out, so if you trust me enough for me to lend you my help--even if you don’t, if you just want the routes and plans for a little extra push, I understand and that’s fine--I just want to do my part on behalf of the less shitty side of my race.”

Markus walked farther into the warehouse without answering, then you watched firsthand as he deactivated the skin of one hand and pressed it to the forearm of an android standing before him. Your eyes widened in wonder as not only the android Markus was holding was awakened, but the other androids around him, the LEDs in their temples flashing red, yellow, and finally landing back on blue; you’d forgotten Markus’s ability to psychically deviate the androids as well, something you’d only seen briefly during a broadcast of one of his marches.

Markus meaningfully looked over his people, and you followed his gaze as the skinless androids, no longer bound by the laws of slaves embedded into their software, reactivated their skins once more. Not only that but there were changes to hair and color, the shuffling out of perfect rows to instead mingle with others and pick out personalized outfits from clothes you’d provided via dumpster diving, donation organizations, and your own clothes that you never wore anymore. Of course, with your last minute mission of liberating camps, one human couldn’t have possibly gathered all the supplies needed to help the masses, but you did what you could. Not to mention, you’d managed to track down and bring them the thing they needed most: Markus.

As if hearing your thoughts, Markus turned away from the full warehouse to look at you instead. He looked at you for a bit, and you couldn’t help feeling like you were being analyzed, and then he spoke again.

“You made an extreme impact on those you’ve saved, [Y/N],” he said, blue and hazel meeting your own [e/c] gaze, “and you’re continuing to offer a great deal of your help to a cause that is not your own. For that, I thank you.”

The nervousness and wonderment of the situation simmered down beneath your skin. The feelings hardened into determination and you felt yourself steady and stand taller. Instead of wide eyes and parted lips, you imagined that you somewhat replicated Markus’s tight jaw and hard gaze.

“Caring for people and helping them,” you replied, “seeing injustices being done to them and doing whatever it takes to help stop it; that’s what it means to be human.”