#I am one degree from Taylor now

[neverbesokind]

Did I tell you guys that my family friend is credited as a sound engineer on WAOLOM?

[deepseawave]

obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog

Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️

Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D

[ylangelegy]

⋆.˚ don't ask "what are we?" ♡︎ skz.

── .✦ headcanons of how the members of stray kids would be like if you were in a 'situationship' with them, ala-i like it. the boys are a bit 🚩 in this one, to varying degrees— you have been warned.

CHAN.

Chan doesn't have the time to date properly. In between managing expectations as a leader and keeping all the boys in line, he hardly has a moment to think of being in a dedicated relationship. He thinks it would only be a distraction from his goal, from everything he has built so carefully over the years.

And so maybe he settles for the next best thing— being just a little too close with you, someone who's supposed to be just a friend. Chan treats you like he's your boyfriend.

He sends 'u up?' texts at 3 AM. He spends his days off at your apartment, just lounging around. He'll hug you at any chance that he gets and chalk it up to the fact that he's always been physically affectionate.

When it comes to blurred lines, it's the worst with him. He's perfectly polite and still plenty friendly, enough to have you justifying that he probably treats everyone this way. Right?

After the nth 'u up?', after the one where you've finally had enough and you respond with "Why do you keep doing this to me?", Chan is frankly just horrified. He had no idea that his affections could be misinterpreted— a product both of his culture, and his comfort with you.

Chan will apologize profusely, will say things about 'never wanting to get your hopes up' and 'being more careful in the future'. He'll probably try his darndest to fall back in to being friends with you, but it won't work. He doesn't know how to be just friends with you.

At the end of the day, the group and its image will always come first for Chan. He wouldn't risk it for anything. If there had been a part of him that had even considered being with you, it's kept under lock and key. He tells himself over and over again that it's for the better.

🎧 friends, ed sheeran | friends don't treat me like you do— and i know that there's a limit to everything, but my friends won't love me like you.

MINHO.

When Minho needs to not be Lee Know, when he just needs to be Minho from Gimpo, he knows that he can count on you. It's Minho's style, to mess around with someone who knew him before all of this— the idol lifestyle, the worldwide stardom.

Minho is aware that he's being a little cruel. You only ever hear from him when he's back home, after all. He gives you nothing of his life in Stray Kids; instead, he gives you the scraps of the boy he once was.

He visits on the rare holiday and the even rarer day-offs. He'll roll his eyes when you ask him to cook for you, but he'll already have all the ingredients to your favorite dishes. He'll complain about you sitting on the kitchen counter, but he'll still listen to your stories about work, about your day-to-day life.

You could convince yourself that you're just two friends who are catching up. But if you squint, you see the little things. How Minho's comments about your suitors are always a touch bitter and snide. How his gaze lingers as you eat the meal he prepared.

And when you ask him, one evening, "Why are you here, Minho?", you almost miss the look on his face. Almost. But it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced with something closer to boredom. "Because I want to be," he'll say. A part of you knows that he means it. Another part of you wishes that he meant it in a different way.

Minho keeps coming home to you, but he also keeps leaving the next day. He never looks back as he drives away.

🎧 'tis the damn season, taylor swift | we could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend... i'm stayin' at my parents' house, and the road not taken looks real good now.

CHANGBIN.

It should come as no surprise that Changbin finds romance in the gym. It's one of the few places he frequents outside of the company or the dorms, and it's rare for any of the boys to be with him as he goes.

Maybe you know who he is. Maybe you don't. Changbin can't really bring himself to care. The only thing he's concerned about is that your form is atrocious; he's concerned you're going to break your back if you keep it up. On the day he caves, he does it so casually— a cool offer of "Need a gym buddy?"

The two of you fall in to a ninety-minute routine every M-W-F. At first, it's strictly companionship. Over time, it becomes a little closer to friendship. And then— does Changbin's hand stay a beat too long at the small of your back? Is his hold on your bicep just a little on the possessive side? You're not entirely sure.

If nothing ever happens, it's not for the lack of trying. You've asked Chanbgin out to dinner, to drinks, but he always gives you a sheepish smile and some flimsy excuse. Prior plans. A strict diet.

Still, he's devastatingly funny, and always sincere when he compliments your progress. He touches you like you're fragile and his eyes follow you across the gym. It's torturous, the plausible deniability that you both attempt to maintain. Months in to this arrangement, you try to ask him out one last time. Like every other instance before, he looks like he's genuinely debating it.

But, like every other instance before, he shakes his head. You go your separate ways after the usual pleasantries— good night, see you next week, take care— and you learn that some things are just not meant to work out.

🎧 goodnight n go, ariana grande | it's bad enough we get along so well; just say 'good night' and go.

HYUNJIN.

Honestly, anything akin to a 'situationship' would kill a hopeless romantic like Hyunjin. A part of him thinks that he'd rather stay single than deal with the uncertainties of a casual relationship, than not give his all to just one person.

It gets lonely, though. A lot lonelier than he cares to admit. And so Hyunjin finds solace in you, in just how much he can get away with. Unlike Chan, Hyunjin is aware of what he's doing. You're an imitation of the real thing. A balm meant to soothe, but never meant to always have on.

He plays his role well. He gets sulky when you don't respond, but then he'll go days without saying a word to you. He lavishes you with words of affirmation, but it's never the words that matter the most.

It's like putting a band-aid over a bullet wound. Hyunjin knows that his little charade with you doesn't drive away the lonely, not completely. It can only keep it at bay. With the life he lives, he figures that it's the most that he can get.

Out of the eight, Hyunjin is the only one who will ask you to stay. When you try to break it off, when you attempt to call him out— he's not above begging. He knows it's a little pathetic, to be so desperate for the facsimile of the romance he wants. But it's all he can afford.

It's a vicious cycle. Hyunjin is hot; Hyunjin is cold. He leaves you with a love that's lukewarm.

🎧 tug of war, carly rae jepsen | you seem too good, too good to be true. i'm loving you longer— longer than i'm used to.

JISUNG.

Jisung enjoys the anonymity that the internet can give him. There's only so much places he can go without being recognized, only so many people he can meet who don't know him as HAN from Stray Kids.

On the internet, he doesn't have to be an idol. He's just some guy in his mid-twenties, looking for romance. His profile says he likes desserts and music. He's confident, here, because the people on the other side of the screen— like you— are just as nameless.

It gives him confidence. His usual sharp humor is still in place, but he's a smooth talker, too. He shamelessly tells you what he thinks, when he thinks it— everything from that outfit suits you to I like talking to you.

One time, Jisung even jokingly tells you, I'm just trying to find inspiration for my songs. That has always been his biggest flaw: He has yet to learn how to look at a person and not see a writing prompt.

Jisung is the one who makes the cleanest cut. If you dare to ask him more about himself, or if you question what lies underneath your mutual flirtations, he'll just... leave. The internet makes it so easy to ghost, to charge it all up to experience. And if you're the one who leaves— that works, too.

It doesn't matter who leaves. It always ends the same way: Track three on their recent comeback or a member's newest [SKZ PLAYER], with Han in the credits.

🎧 bad guy, hatchie | and you could be the bad guy, i could be the bad guy. any way you wanna try, it doesn't make it feel right.

FELIX.

Felix's situation is somehow one of the worse types, because his is clearly just a matter of circumstance. It's a waltz of 'will they, won't they?', where Felix just can't seem to make up his mind on how he wants you.

He cares for you. He knows that much. And it shows, too, in the ways that you interact, in the little things he does for you. He enjoys your company, whether it's playing video games with you or teaching you how to bake. He likes you. Sure, fine.

Enough to date you, though? To put you through the terrifying ordeal that is dating an idol?... Felix isn't sure about that. He dances around the truth, inadvertently stringing you along as he goes.

In a way, it feels like the two of you are in lockstep. Felix will just barely cross the line of friendship before reeling in, before taking it back. It can be draining; it can be thrilling. It's whatever you make it.

Felix never comes to a decision. There's too much on his plate, and he will ultimately put the boys— in extension, himself— first. The two of you have the best luck in staying in touch, in settling for something that resembles a proper friendship.

(But it's still there. Felix, at the end of the day, cannot completely close himself to you. Call it kindness. Call it cruelty. The door, still half-open; the lights, still on.)

🎧 light on, maggie rogers | if you're gone for good, then i'm okay with that. if you leave the light on, then i'll leave the light on.

SEUNGMIN.

Seungmin might not be the most tactile in the group, might not be the 'clingiest' in the traditional sense of word, but he has his moments. He craves attention, companionship, people. While he has his pick of the litter with the boys, there's also only so much that they can offer.

Enter you. Let it be made clear: Seungmin would never get in an arrangement like this if you weren't both on the same page. From the get go, he tells you his intentions. "Nothing serious," he warns, his eyes sharp and his jaw set. "None of that 'love' stuff."

And it's not because Seungmin doesn't want to fall in love. Of course he wants to! But at the price of his career? Never. He's willing to compromise, though. To treat all of this almost like it's a business transaction. To only ever have you in private, in secret.

He knows his boundaries. He never gives you everything, but he also never leaves you high and dry. In a way, you're both just filling the gaps in each other's lives— almost like it's a quota. You steal away on private dates. You both get your fill of physical affection. Neither of you call it a relationship.

There are one or two versions of this story where Seungmin is the one who falls first. It is inevitably you, and when he picks up on it, there is no screaming match. No 'break up' in a parking lot. It's a quiet sort of ending where you can tell that Seungmin is just a little bit disappointed to have to cut you loose.

🎧 lowkey, niki | i know we're a little fucked up to stay still, love. be as quite as you can 'cause if anyone sees they'll just blow shit up.

JEONGIN.

Being surrounded by seven other guys who constantly treat him like he's the youngest, it's a little difficult for Jeongin to not let it get to his head. He still sometimes acts his age— especially when it comes to dating.

He's never hasty enough to cause any real damage, though there are times where he comes dangerously close. If there's anything bound to get him in to trouble, it's his tendency to just leave when something no longer serves him.

Jeongin is acutely aware, after all, of the little power that he wields. He's a big believer that he can get anything he wants as long as he puts his mind to it. And so he dates you for a short time, in a way that can only really be described as love bombing.

He loves sneaking out to go on dates, loves late night phone calls and shameless flirting. He'll send you a dozen selcas; he'll ask you to help pick out his outfit. He's sweet in a way that only somebody reckless and young can be, and it's the reason why people fall so hard and so fast.

But the moment Jeongin catches any hint of that— the impending commitment conversation, the just-about-to-hit question of 'what are we?'— he's already blocking your number. He may seem devil-may-care, but he'd been careful from the very beginning.

You'll never be able to definitively say that he flirted with you, that you were together. He knows how to cover up his tracks. When Jeongin clears out, it's always in a way that leaves you wondering: Did it really ever happen at all?

🎧 good graces, sabrina carpenter | it's not that complicated; you should stay in my good graces or i'll switch it up like that, so fast!

[mariasont]

hi 🫶🏻 i was thinking maybe you could write spencer x reader inspired by taylor's I look in people's windows? for the plot it could be something like they were really close friends and reader was obviously in love with him but then he met meave and distanced himself from her, or maybe that he blames the reader for meave's death and is avoiding her, idk, whichever you prefer!!

i love your works, you're so good at writing!!

When the Swallows Come Again - S.R

a/n: hi my lovely you just know me tooooooo well. a swiftie plot line you ask? i am at your service

no but fr thank u so so sooo much for requesting i love YOU! 🫶🏼

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x gn!reader (im pretty sure pls correct me if i added any use of pronouns)

summary: spencer blames you for maeves death…or so you thought

warnings: angst! (happy endings, yes ik im feeling gracious), talk of death, blood, guns, usual criminal minds stuff

wc: 2.5k

The asphalt beneath your boots felt gritty, the sound muffled by the thick blanket of snow. With one hand, you tried to guard your face from the snowflakes that seemed determined to kiss your skin. They might seem pretty from inside, but out here, they were just another reminder of your inadequate clothing against the biting cold.

The first rays of the sun began to stretch across the concrete, painting long shadows in its wake. Although you could have found your way in the pitch black if needed. Most places were still closed, but you knew that a coffee shop you used to love would be open. It wasn't your top choice, mainly because of the fact that you might bump into--

Him.

You knew it was him before you even saw his face, the hairs on your arm standing at attention as you stopped dead in front of the window.

It was Spencer, unmistakable even from a distance, his distinctive curls made into a celestial crown by the cafe's soft light. Your heart stumbled, plummeting down to your shoelaces. A thousand emotions crashed around you, a vortex happening to quick to untangle. These were feeling you had buried down, far deeper than six feet, hoping they'd never resurface. But that, you realized, was just wishful thinking.

You watched from behind the glass, feeling like a stranger to the world that Spencer now inhabited--a world where you once had a seat at his table. Now, you were the outsider, the unwanted observer. The sound of his laughter, which once was a comforting sound, now seeped through the door's crack, a mocking reminder of a severed tie. Your friendship was one that had bloomed like the first flowers of spring.

But flowers wither, and seasons change.

With Spencer out of your life, a subtle death crept over you, eroding you piece by piece. It was a death characterized by the loud allegations, the quiet of words left unsaid, and a friendship that had crumbled because he blamed you for Maeve's death.

Not just blamed, he hated you.

He hated you because you had tried to save Maeve, but you just weren't quick enough, because you couldn't beat the onset of gunfire, because you went in instead of him. You knew the cost: if he went in, he wouldn't have come back out. You didn't regret that choice. He's alive and breathing, and that's worth any cost--even if it means he never spoke to you again.

But there he stood, living and breathing--just as you intended, and suddenly your body seemed to malfunction. Your feet might as well have been part of the pavement, the snowflakes assaulting your face just as Maeve's blood did that day. Your heart threatened to burst, racing with a ferocity that set your veins on fire. You were scorching alive, and it was 17 degrees. 

In the aftermath, Spencer had taken himself off the grid, locked himself in his apartment, and you didn't take it to heart because his withdrawal was all- encompassing. He was avoiding everyone. But then he came back, and it was as if you alone were invisible to him. You tried, with every fiber of your being, to bridge to gap, for him to let you be his best friend again, but your attempts were met with biting remarks and thinly veiled jabs.

It was exhausting. But he was grieving so you felt like he deserved a pass. He had been through so much, more than anyone on the team. Surely, if anyone deserved a pass, it was him. However, even the most generous pass has an expiration date, and six months of disregard made it challenging to keep validating the same worn-out ticket.

So, you submitted your transfer papers to the narcotics unit. You wanted to say a proper goodbye, but you weren't sure he'd care. So, you didn't. You waited until the office was empty, then disappeared without a trace. 

But it didn't hardly matter that you weren't physically around him because you found yourself searching for signs of him in everything you did. 

When you pulled on your socks, memories of his mismatching habit surfaced, and the way he'd cheekily taunt you for your staunch preference for matching white ones. When you went to the grocery store, you'd unintentionally wander to the aisle with the dark chocolate almonds, his favorite.

Every time a swallow flitted across your path, you were reminded of him. "Swallows return to the same place every year, but not the same partner," he had once explained.

The thought always stuck to you, like gum on the sole of your shoe, because now it was a poignant parallel to your own stupid, fractured bond. Connections were never meant to endure. You knew that now.

It was too late to reverse course when he spun around, catching you red-handed. Your mouth flapped open, a fish out of water, as you willed your feet to moved forward. The need for coffee paled in the comparison to the need to leave. But his reflexes outmatched yours, and the door swung open before you could make an escape.

He said nothing, just stared, and you came to a near-instant stop, narrowly avoiding a collision. The frosty air of your breath fogged the space between you, briefly distorting your view of him, softening his edges into the Spencer you once knew.

Now that he was within arm's reach, you could discern the finer aspects of his face. He looked good, tired, but good. He always looked good, but time had sculpted his features into something more profound. His hair had grown out, curling at the ends, and a stubble now sketched the contours of his face. 

"Hey."

Had you not been so captivated by the shape of his mouth, the faint sound would have been swallowed by the buzzing in your ears.

"Hey," you whispered, but even that was too much for your shaky voice, breaking mid-greeting and leaving you exposed before him. "I'm sorry, I had no idea you'd be here. Um, I should probably just--"

You maneuvered around him, pushing down the vomit of words rising in your throat, consciously fighting the impulse to catalog every line of his face, cognizant of the fact that it might just be the last time you'd see him.

His hand clasped your wrist, and you were suddenly you were the newest member of the BAU again, rubbing elbows with the boy genius, telling him all your secrets with the exception of one. How madly in love you were with him. Were? Are? Past tense? Present tense? You tried not to think about it.

You were frozen in time—not solely from the physical restraint but from the searing sensation of his touch, a feeling you hadn't known in ages, as if igniting your skin through your sleeve.

"Wait, please," he pleaded, the desperation is his voice anchoring you to the spot. You turned back to face him, finding your faces nearly touching. You shifted, intending to create space, but his grip on your arm didn't drop, so you didn't move. "How have you been?"

The question threw you off guard, and it filled your stomach with an irrepressible swarm of butterflies, a feeling so alive against the biting cold that stung at your nose.

Your fingertips were going numb.

"I'm okay, you?" A complete lie.

You racked your brain for the last time you felt okay. Perhaps it was before Spencer had started talking with Maeve. You didn't even know about it at first, that might have been the worst part. He was your best friend, and he had omitted such a significant detail of his life from you.

He just started to distance himself, forging a gap between the two of you that seemed to rival the expanse of the Grand Canyon. Perhaps it was an overstatement, but as the events unfolded, the comparison felt justified. 

The change began imperceptibly, almost cruelly gradual. You would have preferred a quick yank of the Band-Aid, but it was a prolonged, painful peeling. The first sign was him not jumping at the chance to be partnered on cases like he usually did. Then, it progressed to him choosing seats away from you on the jet, and finally, it escalated to him leaving the room all together when you were in it.

It was an achy feeling, an all-consuming soreness that infiltrated every inch of your being. You didn't understand, didn't know what you did wrong. It wasn't long after this you found out about Maeve.

And then, as if fate had dealt its cruelest hand, she died, and suddenly it was your fault. You became the villain in his eyes, condemned for your hesitance, and because you refused to let him die. Maybe it could be seen as selfish, but without him, you would be nothing.

Yet here you were living without him all the same.

His inspection was more thorough than you were ready for. It stirred an urge within you to shrink away, to sprint into the anonymity of the dark streets, but your feet remained rooted to the spot.

"I've been better," he admitted, eyes shining with something you couldn't quite place.

"Oh," you begam, the syllable suspended in the frigid air, but before your thoughts could coalesce into words, Spencer cut through the silence.

"Why did you leave?"

Your brows pinched together, your mouth agape as a singular heartbeat was lost--and then several more. "You can't be serious."

He looked confused. "What? No, Hotch never really told us your reasoning."

The taste of a bitter laugh lingered at the edge of your lips. "Spencer, we don't need to do this whole act, okay? We don't have to pretend that I left for any reason other than you."

"Because of me?" His hands glided upward, pausing on your shoulder, and you loathed the part of you that wanted to lean into him. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you kidding?" The words tumbled out, blinking away the tears of frustration that threatened to spill. "Spencer, I'm not stupid. I know you hate me. I know you blame me for what happened with Maeve. And I get it, you were grieving, and you had every right to be mad, and I just couldn't work there anymore."

"That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard," he cut in, his tone was sharp, yet somehow not unkind. "God, I don't hate you. I could never hate you."

"How can you stand there and say that?" you countered, your voice hurt and incredulous as you took a step away, the cold seeping into your bones and setting your teeth on edge. "You treated me like I was nothing, Spencer."

"Here," Spencer said, handing you his jacket. "You should know, prolonged exposure to cold weather can actually weaken your immune system."

"Oh," you said, slightly startled, feeling the warmth take hold in your cheeks. You rubbed your nose before pulling the jacket over your shoulders. It smelled just like him.

"I don't hate you, you know that, right?" Spencer's voice was soft, like he was whispering even though you were the only two on the street. "I'm sorry if I made you feel insignificant. You're far from it. You could never be nothing. But I was mad, and I let that get the better of me."

"But I tried, Spencer," you choked out, voice wavering, emotion thick in your throat. "I tried to save her. Maybe if I had more training, more experience... I know you wish I had let you be there instead, but I couldn't risk it, not with what I knew. And now our friendship is ruined and I--,"

"Hey, whoa, slow down," Spencer interjected, cupping your cheeks, thumbs brushing away tears you hadn't even noticed. "You think I blame you? Oh, my god, no, sweetheart. I was angry, yes, but it was because you were willing to step in front of a gun."

"You don't blame me?"

"Of course I don't," he breathed out as if he couldn't believe this is what you thought. "I'm so sorry for giving you that impression. It was never my intention."

Your emotions bubbled over into a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. "I really missed you."

Spencer's heart seemed to shatter than mend in an instant as he drew you against him. "Can I kiss you?"

Giggles spilled out through chattering teeth, punctuating the air as a wide smile graced your lips. "You want to kiss me?" 

"I want to kiss you."

The idea almost seemed to sweet to be true.

"Okay."

He kissed you, and with each snowflake that settled into your hair, Spencer drew you in closer. In a way that you had only dreamed of. The biting cold was there, but it paled in comparison to the blaze that was now ignited through your body. 

It was perfect, everything you had imagined and more--real, warm, and grounding. 

He pulled away slowly, blinking the same speed, snowflakes dusting his lashes like delicate frost.

“I know I’ve been… difficult,” he said, his voice rough, his breath wanting your frozen cheek at the same time.

You pressed a hand to his chest. “Spencer, you don’t have to explain.”

A moment passed, as if he were thinking about your offer, then his gaze found yours, piercing and profound, as if the solid ground you stood on was suddenly fragile.

“But I need to,” he said, the raw need in his voice pulling your straight back into the orbit of his words. “I was angry, yes, you almost got yourself killed. But I pushed you away because it was far easier than facing the fear that I might lose you too.”

The beats of your heart echoed loudly—thump, thump—in its bony cage as your fingers curled tightly into his shirt.

“Every time I looked at you, I saw what I could have lost, and that fucking terrified me.”

Spencer cussed, this wasn’t unusual, but the intensity behind it made you frown. His words, so honest, seemed pull you in, invading his personal space in an effort to get rid of yours.

“You’re not going to lose me.”

The sun was shining now, casting golden rays over the snow and Spencer’s face, framing him just as he was in your mind.

“Then let’s not waste anymore time.”

You love him. Present.

For a second you thought Spencer might be wrong because maybe, just maybe, swallows could return to the same place, and the same partner after all.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf

[gravestrain]

And he feels like home (j. hughes)

Happy winter fic exchange! @one-night-story I am so thrilled to be able to have written this for you! I hope I created something that you love that you feel fully represented in and safe to read. 🩷

Demi @wyattjohnston, thank you as always for creating such a wonderful event for our community. Your hard work for these exchanges will never go unnoticed by me, I appreciate you so much.

And thank you to @thomasschabot for proofreading this for me and making sure it was accessible for all to read, I appreciate you so much my friend!

Title was taken from long story short by Taylor Swift. This is 4.7k words, gender neutral reader. It has been double checked by lovely c to ensure that it is safe for all to read <3

new neighbor

You considered yourself to be a very patient person. You were also extremely understanding. You didn't get upset or frustrated by much. You were a good person, sometimes you allowed people to get away with things for their own sake, even if it inconvenienced you in anyway. But at this point, you had had enough.

Since you moved into your apartment in August, you could probably count on one hand the amount of times you had talked to your neighbors. You were in the corner apartment, the last at the end of the hall, your only neighbors being two young men who you presumed to be brothers.

You ran into them a few times in the hallway, the two of them hardly ever separated. You knew they left in the mid afternoon, usually in suits. You assumed it was for work, but you never felt inclined to ask. They usually look rushed, the older one pestering the younger one to "hurry up" as he got out the door.

It was only this week that you had learned their names. A piece of their mail had accidentally been dropped in your box. The name addressed as "Jack Hughes." You contemplated what to do with it, standing at their door with the letter in your hands for a few minutes when the door suddenly burst open, the younger brother opening the door.

"Oh! Hello," he muttered out awkwardly. Neither of you had known the other's name, but you both knew each other as neighbors. "Hi! Are you Jack?" You asked awkwardly, not holding out the card, making your question seem like a random inquiry. "No, I'm Luke, Jack is my brother. Why do you ask? Do you need something?" He asked in an almost bothered tone, as if people frequently came to him asking for unwanted favors.

"Oh! Duh. A piece of Jack's mail got put in my box by accident. I assume it's okay if I drop it with you?" You asked, making you almost instantly face palm. "Yep, that works. Anyway, I'm late to something. Thanks for dropping it off..." He mumbled off at the end, not knowing what to insert for your name. You told him your name, and that was that.

That was earlier this week. This was now Friday. Occasionally, you could tell that they had some small parties. Nothing too outlandish for an apartment building that shared thin walls, but a decent amount of people resulting in a louder volume. You were young yourself, you were never going to complain for a small amount of volume on the occasional Saturday night. This however, had been far too much.

You swear this was the 3rd night in a row of their little parties, and you had dealt with far too much. It was mid April, you were studying for a big exam you had. Part of your move in August was to signal the start of your journey to get your masters degree. You were almost done with the semester, just a few big exams in between, this being one of them. You knew that it seemed a little lame, studying for exams on a Friday night, but part of the move was moving to New Jersey where there was a school that was one of the best in the country for your intended major, not super close to home. With all of your studying and academic work, including working to pay for the apartment and schooling, you didn't have much time to socialize. You had gone to coffee with some people from your classes, but not much beyond that, not enough to warrant Friday night plans towards the end of the semester.

Slamming your textbook, you decided you had officially reached your limit. You paced back and forth a bit, trying to calm down a bit in an attempt to hopefully not absolutely lose it on your neighbor. It wasn't that late, but you had been studying all day with minimal breaks. You couldn't see the end of the studying in sight if your neighbors kept the music at the volume they had. You wondered how the people on the other side of them weren't bothered by the noise, but then again you had probably seen them even less than you had seen Jack and Luke.

You slipped your feet into the pair of shoes closest to the door, banging on the door in an attempt for them to hear it over the blaring music. You took a small step back when a man you didn't recognize answered the door. "Can I help you?" A dark haired man with an accent asked. Before you could open your mouth, a very energetic Jack came bustling towards the door. "Y/N! To what do I owe this pleasure?" He asked with a charming smile, almost causing your reserve to break down. But when your brain came back after the sound of the music blared through your ears, you remembered why you were over here.

"Do you know what time it is?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's only 11. It's a Friday night. But based on your casual attire, I doubt that matters much to you," Jack quipped at your casual pajamas. "For your information, Jack, I'm studying for a big exam. Clearly you don't know much about that." You snapped back.

"For your information, my team just made the playoffs. We have a lot to celebrate." Jack flexed, causing his chest to puff out a bit. "I don't care which of your beer league teams made the playoffs, but I would really like to pass my first year of my masters program and not have to repeat. That is, after all, how I ended up here, as your neighbor." You were starting to lose your patience, and instead of Jack surrendering, he started laughing.

"Beer league, huh. Do you not know?" You rolled your eyes. "If this is your attempt at a 'Do you know who I am?' moment, you're failing severely. Or even better, if it's going to be a 'do you know who my father is?' Just save me the time, I have an exam to study for," you had one foot out the door when Jack grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

"Relax, I just figured you knew because that seems to be all anyone wants from us who lives in this building. Favors relating to our job. Luke and I play for the New Jersey Devils, the NHL team around here. It's okay that you don't know, however I hope now that you do, you'll choose us to be your favorite team." Jack smirked at you, causing you to giggle, which resulted in you immediately covering your mouth. What was happening to you? You didn't giggle over charming guys.

"Oh, did you guys win or something? Seems like an awfully long time to be celebrating one win," you quipped. "We made it into the playoffs. We are the number one seed. We've been celebrating for a few days because we have a bit of time off. I am sorry, it is probably excessive. We'll turn it down and remind the guys that we aren't the only ones who live here." Jack put his tail between his legs. You did feel a bit bad, but you were glad the noise was going to at least quiet down.

"I hope I didn't come off like a jerk, I just got flustered. I know you didn't know. I shouldn't have come over attacking." You muttered, causing Jack to smile.

"I'll accept your apology on one condition. Do you think you can find some time in your busy finals schedule to come to one of our games? I can get you more details when the playoffs schedule comes out, but I would it if you could come. I think Luke might be a little jealous that I softened you up first, but it just adds for some more bragging rights on the kid."

You couldn't believe your ears. Your cute, albeit a little clueless neighbor, was not only a professional athlete, but he was also asking you on a date if you weren't mistaken.

"Well Jack, I'd love to, but you just better hope I pass this exam." You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"Good thing we're gonna turn the volume down."

2. first game

What do you wear to a hockey game that you were invited to by your neighbor who you have only talked to a few times but you think he may have been awkwardly potentially flirting with you when he invited you?

You were digging through your closet, looking for something appropriate to wear for probably one of the most awkward, unique events you have ever been to. You can't say that you had ever been to a professional hockey game. You weren't clueless to the rules and such, you just never had the opportunity to attend one in person.

Not to mention, you were going alone. You only had a few casual friends at school through this point in the year, and it didn't feel appropriate to bring any of them to this... interesting event you were going to. Plus, you were certain that you would be wrapped up in the game. You were nervous enough as is, and you can't imagine if you had to sit there and make awkward small talk with one of your classmates who might be able to say what your last name is.

Sitting in the uber on the way there made you start to question your choice of agreeing to go to the game. You had no idea how this would go other than you knew that Jack had slipped the ticket under your door earlier this morning and written on it was instructions on how to get to the gate. One thing that caused your cheeks to heat was that on the bottom of the post it note, was his phone number.

This made it feel almost official in a way, having his phone number. Before you could dwell on it too much, your uber pulled up to the door that Jack directed you to. You thanked the driver and walked in to the stadium, immediately overwhelmed by everything. For a second you considered turning around and making something up to Jack that you were sick, but when you took a second to look around, you saw so many happy people with Jack's last name plastered across their backs, number 86 standing proudly. You felt a sense of pride for Jack, though you weren't sure how to feel about that.

That sense of pride never went away once the game started. Your eyes were on Jack from the second his feet touched the ice, and the moment he sat on the bench. Your eyes followed him all the way to the bench, wishing the time he wasn't on the ice would go faster. You wondered why you had never been interested on hockey. Jack was so talented, and the game ended with him scoring a goal and getting two assists. You thought for a second that he was looking up at you when he scored, but you shook your head quickly to rid your brain of those thoughts.

As the game ended, it suddenly occurred to you that you weren't sure how this would end. You sat in your seat for a while letting the seats clear out, preparing to walk towards the gate that you entered in, opening the uber app. As soon as your phone unlocked, a message from Jack popped up on your phone.

"Meet me outside," it read. "I'd like to take you to dinner and drive you home. I'll meet you by the gate you entered in."

Your cheeks flushed at his admission, suddenly looking down at your outfit. Was this appropriate for a dinner date? You were not planning on this at all. You checked what you looked like in the front camera of your phone. Before you could decide whether or not you looked appropriate, you heard a familiar laugh. Your chest warmed at the idea that his laugh could be so familiar, so homey despite the fact that the two of you had not spent much time together.

Jack's feet sped up as he caught up to you, just excited to see you after a great win. His smile was contagious when he saw you standing there, staring at your sneakers in an attempt to not be noticed by the rest of the guys who might ask questions.

In the end, it wasn't Jack who spoke up first. It was Luke. "Y/N! I'm so glad you came! I wanted to score for you, but unfortunately this guy beat me to it," he smiled, throwing an arm around your shoulders. You tried to relax into his arms, telling yourself this was a new normal in your life. Casual banter with your neighbors who just so happen to be professional athletes making millions of dollars.

"Hey back off, I invited them. You dropped the ball. Your turn is up, by the way," Jack muttered, causing Luke to give a quizzical look. Taking advantage of Luke's moment of confusion, Jack sneaks around him and puts his arms around you, squeezing you tightly. A noise of surprise comes out of your mouth. Not discomfort, just surprise at his sudden display of physical affection. "That was awesome!" Jack yelled. "Did you have so much fun?" He asked, pulling away to see your face looking up at him.

"Well it would have been more fun if Luke scored for me but I guess I'll settle for your points," you teased. He smiled, his cheeks turning red at your teasing. "Y/N, is Jack blushing? Did you turn him into a shy mess?" Luke teased and Jack groaned, hiding his face in your shoulder. "I just want to impress you," he smiled which caused your entire body to heat up. It never occurred to you that he wanted to impress you. That you were there because he wanted you to be impressed with his game and how he played.

"Well don't worry, I was thoroughly impressed. Would you like to go to dinner now?" You asked. "Am I invited? Is this like a neighborly get together?" Luke was now teasing you both, causing both of you to get bashful. "Dude, clearly this is a date," Jack mumbled, causing your eyebrows to raise. "Clearly? Is that what we're calling it now. I mean I certainly thought it was, but you never asked me." You and Luke were truly just having fun with the teasing now.

"Jack, it's not very gentlemanly to assume it's a date. You really should ask, especially with someone like Y/N. They're a catch!" Jack was glaring daggers into Luke. "Yes, I should. Y/N, I would like tonight to be a date. Will you go out on a date with me?" Jack asked, grabbing your hand in his. You were grinning, nodding your head. "Well then, Luke I think it's past your bedtime. Why don't you go home with Holtzy and I will take Y/N out for dinner?" Luke shook his head, giggling. "Wouldn't you like that," he laughed. "Luke-" "Fine! Fine! I'm done. I'll go. Y/N, it was a pleasure to laugh with you. You kids enjoy yourself."

"I have a feeling we will."

3. first (real) date

Your dinner with Jack was perfect. You finally got the news back that you had passed the exam you were stressing about, and to celebrate, you got your favorite take out and watched Jack's game on the couch with a glass of wine. It was strange, to whole heartedly notice his absence when him and Luke were away for games. Right now, they were on a short West coast road trip, Denver, Arizona, and Seattle, and then heading back home for a few days off before a home game.

This was their last game being gone, and you found yourself waiting hopefully for Jack to come back. You had been texting a lot on the road trip, Jack even calling you once after he crawled into the empty bed next to Jesper's bed. According to Jack, his friend, teammate, and road roommate Jesper slept like the dead, even going as far as to wearing headphones when he slept, so there was no concern of the call waking him up. That didn't stop you from keeping your voice to a low volume, which Jack of course countered by yelling an obnoxious "What was that?" whenever he couldn't hear you.

After a Devils win, you crawled into bed for the night, finding yourself thinking of Jack, and how you couldn't wait to see him. You were in so deep.

------

As you cleaned up the remnants of your late afternoon lunch, a knock sounded on your door. You had a feeling you knew who it was, but you still checked the peephole to see Jack's face on the other side, nervously rocking back and forth on his feet, holding something in his hand.

Flowers.

"Hi, it's so good to see you!" You smiled, welcoming him inside. "These are for you. I wasn't sure if it was appropriate, but I wanted to ask you something, so I thought these might help. I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go to dinner with me on Friday? We have a game on Thursday night, and I thought a more formal, not after a game greasy pizza joint dinner would be fun. That is, if you are interested? If not, it's okay, I was just," you finally cut him off with a hand on his arm. "Jack! I'd love to. The flowers are beautiful. Thank you for thinking of me. I would love nothing more." You smiled, causing an audible sigh to come from Jack's lips.

"Oh thank God! Sorry, I didn't want to ramble, I just really got nervous. I wanted you to say yes but I didn't want to sound weird or make you uncomfortable." He smiled. Neither of you knew what was going on. Jack was stunned that his neighbor who he had barely talked to but admired from afar had turned him into a nervous, blushing mess. You also couldn't say you were expecting to fall for your neighbor. But when he was gone, you came to that conclusion: you were absolutely falling for Jack. You were falling for him, you couldn't understand how it had happened or why, but you absolutely were.

When it came time for your date to come, you felt more nervous than you did for the game. Jack had let you know that you were going to be going to a nicer restaurant. You picked his brain a bit at what to wear. What you didn't know is that he had preplanned his outfit, mannerisms, conversations, basically his every move for the date with his mom and brothers. Well, mostly Quinn. When Luke saw how nervous he was, he was constantly teasing him. Luke loved to tease him about how you should have fallen for him instead of Jack. Of course it was all jokes, as soon as the two of you started hanging out Luke could immediately see the chemistry between the two of you. He knew that your connection was much deeper than any sort of joke he could make. He was really happy for his older brother, finally seeing him fall for a person who made him truly happy.

When you decided on an outfit that was both appropriate for the occasion and made you feel good about yourself, you started pacing by the front door of your apartment, anxiously waiting for Jack to come. It was about 10 minutes before he said he would arrive. On the other side of the wall, Jack thought about coming a few minutes early, but his mom immediately shut that down. Jack argued that he wanted to seem timely and didn't want to keep you waiting. Ellen shut him down, though.

"How long does it take you to walk 10 steps next door? You never want to rush someone getting ready, especially for a first date." Luke was cackling in the background, of course.

At 6:00 on the dot, Jack was knocking on your door. He was almost more nervous than when he came by a few days before asking if you wanted to go to dinner with him, if that was even possible. When you opened the door, Jack planted his feet in the ground, willing himself to not fall over on his ass and make a complete fool of himself.

You were absolutely stunning. You looked so amazing in Jack's eyes. He felt himself blushing as soon as you opened the door. He was thanking his lucky stars, wondering how he had gotten so lucky as to find someone as special as you.

"Y/N..." he finally breathed out, his heart racing. "What? Do I look okay?" You began to feel nervous under his intense gaze, your hands instinctively picking at your fingernails. "Okay would be an insult. You look incredible. These are for you, by the way," Jack handed you the flowers he forgot he even had. "That's so sweet! You didn't have to bring me flowers. The ones you brought me a few days ago are still going strong. They will look beautiful together, though."

You took a minute to put the flowers in a vase. Jack was watching you from afar, you felt his eyes on you, following you around your small kitchen. Truthfully, he was admiring you. He couldn't help but blush at the sight of you, putting flowers in the vase that he bought for you, getting ready for the date that he was taking you out on. He felt like he won the lottery.

When you turned around, you saw him blushingly admiring you, causing your own cheeks to heat up. "What has you so smiley?" you asked, taking a step closer to him, bravely grabbing his hand in yours. You rubbed your thumb over his hand in an attempt to help him feel calm. Jack was certain no one had ever made him feel this nervous. Certainly not someone he was dating. "I just can't believe how beautiful you are. I feel so lucky that you are going out with me."

Both of you were nervous wrecks at this point. Before you could convince yourself otherwise, you were leaning forward, kissing him on the cheek. As soon as Jack felt your lips on his skin, he knew he had to kiss you. "Can I kiss you? Like, on the lips," he muttered, causing you to giggle. "Yes Jack, you can kiss me, like on the lips." He groaned at your teasing, but before he could throw his head back exasperatedly, you leaned forward, capturing his lips with your own.

Jack felt himself melt, holding onto your waist in an attempt to hold himself up straight. It was official. You had softened Jack into a gushy, pillowy mess. And Jack had never been so happy.

+1. as a couple

6 months later

"Jack, honey, if you keep stomping any louder, the people below us are gonna come complain," you muttered teasingly at him. "You really think they can hear you? Besides, if they came and complained, I would simply explain to them that my amazing partner, whom I care for very much, is meeting my family for the first time, and I think they would understand." He quipped back, causing you to laugh.

Jack's parents were coming in to town for the first time in the new season. Before you met Jack, you had long planned to spend the summer abroad with your closest friend. Jack was thrilled for you, but disappointed you wouldn't be able to spend time together over the summer at his summer house. He did however, jet off to meet you in Italy for a week, which was perfect. Ordinarily, you probably would have met Jack's parents already, but with the chaos of your summer, it was now the Devils home opener, and you had yet to meet your boyfriend's parents.

"If I'm so amazing, why are you so nervous for me to meet them?" Jack groaned, causing you to laugh. Teasing each other was something so common, but it was always done lovingly. It was almost a love language of sorts between the two of you.

"Babe, how many times have I talked to Quinn on FaceTime with you? And Luke is the best friend I have here in Jersey, besides you obviously, so it's just your parents. Who, by the way, we have also Facetimed with a handful of times together."

"I know, but in person it's different. They might get knocked on their ass by your good looks and charm, just like I was. And besides, if you think Luke's teasing and sarcasm is bad, just wait until you meet my dad. Where do you think he gets it from?" Jack continues to ramble. To an outsider, it might look like Jack didn't want you to meet his parents, but you both knew it was the complete opposite. The two of you hadn't been together for that long, but in a way that didn't matter. Jack was close to saying the "l word," and you probably weren't that far behind him. He wanted you to meet his parents because he wanted them to love you as much as he did. You felt the same way.

In an attempt to stop his never ending nerves, you took the few steps across the room towards him, putting your hand on his cheek and pulling him in for a soft kiss. "Jack, I am thrilled to meet your parents. If it makes you feel any better, I am a bit nervous too. I want them to like me. Although, I'm sure you've bored them to tears with stories making me seem like I'm the most amazing person on the Earth." "Because you are," Jack intervened, serious as a heart attack.

You laughed at his genuine tone, he was always buttering you up. "They'll love you, because you're amazing. Besides, Lukey and Quinn already love you. This will be easy work for you. The shock of me being in a serious relationship has already worn off. They're thrilled to meet you," you laughed at his half hearted attempt at a joke.

"Besides, I'm sure they will be so excited to meet the person who has turned you into a sap," you laughed, causing Jack's mouth to open in shock. "I am not a sap!" He tried to quip back, but you both knew he was absolutely lying. He was so soft on you, something none of his loved ones had ever seen. "Jack, yesterday you laid your nice jacket over a puddle in the nasty streets of Jersey for me to walk over because there was no way around it," you stared back at him. "That puddle was huge! Your pant legs would've been soaked, I know you would've hated that." You laughed at his kind hearted attempt at an explanation.

"You are one of a kind Jack Hughes," you started. "I truly love you." As soon as the words came out of your mouth, your hand covered it in shock. Of course you loved Jack, but you were so nervous to tell him. You had never said those words to someone romantically before, and you were both certain he would say it first, even though you hadn't talked about it before.

"You love me?" He asked, his voice quivering. "Of course I love you, did you miss the puddle story? I would be crazy not to have fallen in love with you." At this point, both of your eyes were watery, Jack's grip on your shoulders never wavering. "Oh my God, you love me. Oh my God, wait, I love you! I love you so much! I can't believe I haven't said it back yet! I love you!" Jack was over the moon, causing you to laugh wetly.

You had absolutely softened Jack to his core. But you were nothing but soft for him, the two of you a perfect match for each other. When you pulled each other in for a kiss, the love between the two of you was imminent, the nerves of the upcoming event melting away. Jack couldn't wait to introduce you to his parents as his partner whom he loved so much, and you couldn't wait to love them as much as you loved him.

[russellsppttemplates]

Uh oh, I'm falling in love (Lando Norris)

Y/N and Lando both have jobs that require good sight and attention to detail and yet they're oblivious to their feelings for eachother

Note: english is not my first language. I'm in a very fluffy mood, so I got really excited when I got this request! This also makes my expectations even higher and calls me single in about seventeen different languages at once...

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions a needle (for sewing)

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Hey guys! How's everyone?", Max said to the camera as you made sure the set up was right, the screen showing his and Lando's faces on one screen and the table on the other like it was supposed to.

"As per your many, many requests, we have brought our graphic designer at Quadrant, Y/N", Lando announced as you appeared on camera, sending a very awkward first wave to the camera, "today's stream is little different than our usual programming, but it was the only way she agreed to be in one! You guys really wanted to see her, so we had to be creative!", Max said as he moved the friendship bracelets making kit into view on the table.

"Hey, Queen Taylor said we should make the friendship bracelets, so we're just following her!", you chuckled, looking at all the coloured threads and colourful beads, sorting them out and grabbing a pen and paper so you could draw your ideas.

"Since you guys wanted to get to know Y/N, can I tell them to send in questions?", Lando questioned you, "sure, I'll answer them to the best of mu ability", you smiled.

You were picking the letters you needed for the bracelet you were making when Max spoke up, "first one: how did you start working with Quadrant? I'd love to work on the team when I finish my degree!".

"I saw the job offer, and I must admit at first I didn't really know much about the company. I looked it up, looked cool enough and I sent my CV and portfolio in. So keep your eyes peeled for any offers, I guess? We have them now on the website, which was my doing, so you can check them out there if you want to be part of the team", you offered.

"I need help, guys", Lando said as he fiddled with his bracelet, the orange and grey beads with his initials sliding on the elasticated material, I can't do the closing knot on my own", he pouted as you placed your bracelet down.

"You have to flip it like this, here. Just put it on your wrist and I'll do the rest", you ushered him, your fingertips gingerly touching his hand and wrist as you quietly laced it, "this way we don't get frilly bits out and it looks pretty, see? Pretty!", you smiled, modelling his wrist for the camera.

Pretty, that's what he often thought about you. Not only pretty, but it was one of the first physical traits that came to mind.

"We should all have matching ones!", Max said as he completed his bracelet, impressively on his own, revealing the colourful beads with Quadrant spelled in white round beads with black letters, "I'll make one for each of you", he said as he watched you show your own, pink beads and a lyric he assumed was from a Taylor Swift song.

"I'll make Y/N's, she helped me after all", Lando said as one brave fan sent a comment into the chat.

He's so giddy to make Y/N a bracelet, it's a shame it will snap because of his lack of skills

Am I delusional if I say that they'd make a great couple?

If you're delusional, then what do I call myself? I still think they're making heart eyes at eachother whenever they catch the slightest glimpse!

We're joining forces, I think it's a noble pursuit!

He's a dork, Y/N, but you should give him a chance

Have you always known you wanted to be a graphic designer?

"I thought about different careers before I settled on this one, for now at least", you explained, "engineering was in the running up, but then I figured out that I was curious about how things worked, but that didn't mean that I wanted to be the one working on it. And this was a way to express my creativity, my strategy planning as well, and at the moment it's been quite good", you smiled as Lando grabbed your wrist softly, "I need to make sure this fits", he interrupted, "and it won't snap because I've learnt how to do it, thank you very much", he blushed. So he, too, was reading the comments, choosing not to dwell in them.

"Look, this way you always have a lucky charm with you everywhere you go, even if we're not together. We're eachothers lucky charms!", Lando announced as Max mafe a fake gagging noise.

.

"Are you all ready?", you said as you and Tara walked inside the room, clasping your watch on your wrist and hoping to find the boys ready.

Quadrant had been invited to a gala dinner that celebrated the companies in the same line of business, inviting five people to take part in the meal. After some team members politely declining the invitation since they had things booked already, the group ended up being Lando, Max, Callum, Tara and yourself.

The dress required everyone to up their usual style, hence the long dress you were wearing. Even though it was far from your usual everyday attire, you felt beautiful in the dress you ended up with after browsing the online shops for a while. The cut was simple, the skirt widening from your waist down and complimenting your curves as the sheen from the midnight blue fabric looked soft and sweet against your skin.

Lando seemed to think the same, trying his best to not let his mouth hang open when you and Tara walked inside their room, heels clicking on the wooden floor as you hurried them, "does it really take that long to put on a suit? I had to help Tara with the laces on her back and we still got ready faster than the three of you?", you asked, shaking your wrist to check if the dainty watch wasn't going to fall and that it wasn't too tight either.

Looking up to meet Lando's eyes, you were sure you physically and audibly gulped. No one should look that good in a plain white shirt. The cuffs were still unbuttoned, but the shirt itself was tucked in his black pants. He didn't have any jewellery, so his tanned skin caught your eye as it contrasted with his clothes.

"Lando has a problem with his shirt and we are trying to solve it", Max said, a little bit too antsy given that, at the naked eye, there didn't seem to be a big issue with the piece of clothing you had been inspecting quite closely.

"There was a loose button, and I tried to fix it, but I made it worse", Lando said as he pointed to the button on his hand, the slight movement showing you the place where it was supposed to he holding the piece together and closed.

"Three people in this room and no one thought about grabbing the sewing kit from the amenities?", Tara suggested, looking for it in the box that was the same as it was in your room, "see? Simple as that! Can you sew it, Y/N? My hand isn't fully healed yet, I can't quite grasp something that small yet".

Tara had injured herself earlier on in the week, prompting her to ask to tag out of the gala until you pleaded her to go so you wouldn't be alone, so she couldn't do it. None of the other guys seemed to even know how to pull the thread through the needle, so you grabbed the kit from Tara's hand, "sure, I'll do it", you said, "if that's okay with you, that is", you looked over at Lando.

"Sure, anything to solve this. Do I keep it on or should I take it off?", he questioned, wanting to slap himself straight after at his offer. Why would he volunteer to be shirtless in front of you? It certainly wasn't the way to go, shoving himself like that.

"On should be fine", you muttered, missing the snickers going on behind you as you wet the thread with your tongue, careful to not transfer any of the lipstick on it and ruining the piece without point of return for good, easily looping it through and adjusting the size of the ends.

"Button", you put your hand out so Lando could place it in your fingers, "I will do my best not to poke you, let me know if I do so accidentally", you mumbled at the closeness to him you found yourself in. It was the third button from the top, and as much as you loved the sight of the shirt slightly undone, the dinner required his shirt to be done up. Looping the thread on the button a few times, you moved to pierce the crisp white fabric so it would be secure, your hands dangerously close to his skin as you could hear his laboured breath. Lando still remembered and thought constantly about your fingers touching his hand and wrist when you did the friendship bracelets video for the YouTube channel, and right now, it only added to his predicament.

"It's done, all good!", you exclaimed, looking up as you cut the thread and seeing Lando's eyes on you. The intensity nearly threw you off of your balance as you stood the tiniest bit crouched down on your high heels.

Scrambling to further the distance between your bodies, you smoothed out the non existent wrinkles on your dress, storing the supplies back in the kit as Lando managed to utter out a thank you, too stunned and intoxicated by your scent to say anything else.

"I sewed a button as neither of you look any more ready that you were when we got here? We're going to be late!", you hurried, sitting next to Tara and ignoring her smirk as you scrolled through your phone.

.

"That shoot will have to wait since Lando won't be back here soon, then", you said, moving things around in the online shared calendar, "when did you say you could again? I'm sorry", you asked, rubbing your forehead and squeezing your eyes, adjusting your glasses and looking at him through the screen.

"The first weekend of the next month", Lando assured, "are you okay, Y/N?", he asked. The bags under your eyes didn't fool anyone and you looked tired. And sick, he guessed by the layers of clothing you had on.

"I had a pretty shit day, actually", you admitted, "I had to go with the guys from storage because there was an issue. The supplier sent the samples and we wanted to get things moving so I could have some ideas for the description and the social media team also wanted to prep the draft for the whole story telling, but it all went under. I also think I caught some bug, so it's been a fun day", you exaggeratingly smiled, mocking your own misery.

"You look like you need a hug, Y/N. Do you need a hug?", Lando asked as you nodded, "Actually, that would be pretty good, but I live alone. The neighbours would think I'm pretty weird if I went around like this asking for one, too", you reasoned.

Even though he wasn't next to you, Lando still managed to pull a smile out of you as he got up from the chair he was sitting in, hugging his laptop, "did you feel that hug?", he loudly wondered, "it's full of Get well soon fairy dust!", he smiled charmingly.

"Fairy dust, mate?", Callum wondered, reminding you of his presence in the videocall, "you try and spend more than a few hours with a little girl and you let me know. Mila has taught me all about fairy dust and princess magic", Lando added.

.

"How will we get out of here?", you wondered, starting to regret joining Lando, Max and Pietra when they said they were going to watch a football game. You loved the sport and you figured it would be a nice distraction after a work loaded week, but now, things were looking less than a distraction.

"We will let them space out once the game finishes, free up the roads as well because getting out of here will be a pain, too", Lando suggested.

The game granted your team a win and three points in the championship, the crowd going wild as they clapped, whistled and waved their scarfs, slowly leaving the stadium.

"Should we make a run for it now?", Pietra said, holding her boyfriend's hand as she allowed him to pull her away.

You followed Lando, thanking his choice of a colourful hoodie to wear today as it made it easier for you to spot him, "go in front of me, I'll back you up", he switched positions. You weren't having too much trouble until you were met with a ramp, people carelessly shoving others as they tried to leave as quick as they could, all with the same intent of avoiding traffic and crowded roads.

"Here, Y/N", you heard Lando as he grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers in his and pulling you along, excusing you two as you approached Max and Pietra again, "we're here", you tapped the blonde woman's shoulder with your free hand.

"Goodness, that was and adventure", she said once you reached the stadium car park, the crowd clearing up significantly as there was maybe another ten people headed the same way as you were now, "is everyone alright? I think someone stepped on my foot quite a few times, or many people stepped on it at various different times", you reasoned, walking alongside Lando still.

"Don't we need to hand the bracelets back?", Max said as he looked at the sign, taking his bracelet off and depositing it in the box in the booth, Pietra doing the same as you seemed distracted.

"Are you okay, Y/N?", Max asked, seeing you and Lando were still holding hands and, because of that, not taking off your bracelets.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?", you scrunched your eyebrows, "we need to hand the bracelets back in, so I kind of need to have yours, too", he teased, looking at your hand still entwined with Lando's.

Removing your hand from Lando's as if it har started burning all of a sudden, you removed the bracelet, apologising quietly to the stadium employee as you thanked him, "shall we go now?".

"Dinner out?", Lando gulped, getting into the driver's seat, "Good idea, yes", Max added, sitting in the passenger's seat as you and Pietra sat in the back, your hand rubbing your other hand that had been laced with Lando's own one for a long time. Uh oh, you were falling in love.

.

The launch was finally over after an amazing response from the fans, leaving your heart happy and warm with a sense of mission accomplished.

"Is everything packed into the van?", you asked Tara, "yes, it's just this box. It has fragile things, so do you think you guys can take it in the car with you? It probably only fits at the front, so you'll have to squeeze in with the boys on the back", she smiled apologetically, "it's fine, we'll keep eachother warm like penguins do", you chuckled, holding the door open as she set the box safely.

Saying goodbye to her and the rest of the team, Max and Lando joined you, "You sit in the middle seat", Max pointed at you, opening the door ao you could scoot closer to Lando and he could get in.

"Could you tell me how long we have until get back?", Lando asked the driver, "with traffic at this hour, I'd say around 90 minutes", he smiled, turning on the blinker so he could leave the car park.

"Plenty of time for me to catch up on sleep, then!", you cheered, making yourself comfortable in the space you had, folding your scarf into an impromptu travel pillow, closing your eyes.

"Are you a snorer?", Max asked, making you blindly swat his thigh, "only when I'm sick, and lucky for you, I'm in presteen health, no blocked nose", you grumbled.

It didn't take you long to fall asleep. In the last week, all of the nights combined, you probably slept less than thirty hours, so your body was indeed in need of rest.

"And there it goes", Max said as your pillow undid itself, Lando lifting his shoulder in reflex so your head wouldn't drop drastically, landing on top of him, "Good thing she isn't our engineer, hm?", he chuckled, looking at how his bestfriend was looking at you like you hung the stars and the moon.

"I think I'm in love with Y/N", Lando whispered after he took your appearance in. You had forgone wearing make-up today, so he could see all your moles and scars, your pouty lips and the darkened skin under your eyes. It took everything in him to not bend down and kiss your forehead.

"Congrats on being the last one to find out, mate", Max added, shaking his head, "I genuinely thought you had some issue processing information, I'm glad to find out you don't.

"Now you just have to act on it, which is going to take you, what? Two, three more months?".

[sweetspidergirl]

A Tangled Web (Spider HRT Story)

Chapter 1

“This is stupid. Why am I doing this?”

This question echoed in my head as I sat in the sterile waiting room of the doctor's office, accompanied by the sound of the clock ticking away in the background. Besides me and the receptionist behind the counter, there was no one else in the room. That made sense. With it being a few days before Christmas, who would willingly want to spend any amount of that time in such a depressing location?

A twenty-five year old woman dissatisfied with her life and seeking a new one, apparently.

As I sat there waiting for permission to see the doctor, my mind drifted back to how I got here. It was half a year ago where I first vented frustration over my life to my best friend Elisa, and she mentioned how I might be going through species dysphoria. She then sent me some articles and links and suggested I look into humanity removal therapy, or HRT.

I had been vaguely aware of humanity removal therapy, often referred to as therian HRT, for a few months by that point. It functioned mostly like hormone replacement therapy, only it would gradually change the patient into a human/animal hybrid, or therian. It was a recent development, only having been available to the public for a little over five years, and still had quite a bit of controversy associated with it from various political groups. Despite that, based on the testimonials I read and the various pictures I saw, the people who have gone through therian HRT seemed to be happier now than they ever had as humans. Maybe it would be worth it if I gave the whole thing a shot. Maybe being in another body might help me be happy again.

I glanced down at the blank screen of my phone, looking over myself in annoyance. I noted the long, messy brown hair that I barely made look presentable. I noted the pale skin caused by a lack of social interaction and preferring the light of a screen over the sun. I noted the oval-shaped glasses and casual hoodie and sweatpants that hid as much of me as possible. I was another drop of water in the ocean that was humanity. Even my blue eyes, once bright and full of hope, had started to appear dim and non-descript as of late.

“Taylor Thompson?”

I snapped out of my thoughts as the doctor called my name. Turning my head in his direction, I got a good look at the man who would be deciding my future. He was an older gentleman, probably in his 50s or 60s, with a grey receding hairline and mustache. His thick, round glasses made it hard for me to see his eyes. Grabbing my belongings, I quietly followed the doctor as he guided me to his office. The office was what I expected to see: a small, plain white room with a desk, degrees on the wall, and bookshelves full of books that I would be too dumb to properly understand. On the desk was a small nameplate that read “Dr. T. H. Erian, Species Dysphoria Specialist” in large, clean letters. I set my bag beside me and took my seat, my heart beating like a drum in my chest. I swallowed the lump of anxiety that was forming in my throat. There was no turning back now.

“So, Miss Thompson, what brings you here today?” Dr. Erian asked in a stern voice. One sentence in and I was already having flashbacks to my high school principal. The main difference here, however, was that my answers actually mattered for more than avoiding detention.

“I, um, was hoping to be prescribed therian HRT. Specifically spider HRT.” I answered, trying to remain calm and collected.

“I see… and why a spider, if I may ask?” The doctor questioned as he began writing something on a piece of paper in front of him.

“Well, I think spiders are a lot like me. Most people are scared of them, but in reality they’re mostly just nervous, adorable little beans.” I explained with a bit of blush on my face.

“Any preferred species of spiders?”

“I was hoping to be a tarantula. They're cute and fluffy, and I think I'd look just as good as one.”

“May I ask why you wish to undergo humanity removal therapy?”

I took a deep breath and exhaled. “I've been unhappy with myself lately. My diet's been awful, I rarely go outside and interact, and in general I just hate everything about myself. My best friend, Elisa Andrews, thinks I might be going through species dysphoria. She works with therians and otherkin daily, so I assume she's right.” I explained to Dr. Erian. I then handed him a folder that contained the paperwork Elisa told me I'd need before being prescribed therian HRT: a medical examination, two psychological evaluations, written support from her and my father. I even spiced the folder up with doodles of webs and cartoon spiders in hopes that it would help my case.

Dr. Erian looked through the paperwork I gave him. I was unable to get a good idea of what he was thinking. His flat, emotionless voice was hard to read, and thanks to those glasses I couldn't tell whether he was impressed by work or annoyed at me wasting his time. I was hoping it was the former.

“Miss Thompson, before we continue, I'd like to ask an important question.” Dr. Erian spoke as he set the folder down in front of him on the desk. “How much do you know about therians?”

“How much do I know?” I asked curiously. “I mean, my best friend’s a physical therapist that works with therians, and I'm kinda aware of some of the legislature that's been passed recently-”

“That's not what I am referring to.” Dr. Erian interrupted. “I want to know if you understand what therians go through, what the process of going through humanity removal therapy is like and how you'll have to adapt. You are aware that I recommend patients spend some time living as their desired species before I prescribe them HRT, correct?”

“I-I mean… if it helps I have a few spider plushies.” I said sheepishly. I could already feel my luck running out.

Dr. Erian sighed and gently rubbed at his forehead before speaking again. “Miss Thompson, this is a serious life-changing procedure. Once you start therian HRT, your DNA will be rewritten to match your chosen species. You'll never be human again, even if you stop early into your therapy. I cannot prescribe it to just anyone who steps foot into my office.”

I sunk into my seat slightly, bringing my knees just under my chin as I almost curled up to feel safe and protected. “B-but… I was told you can help people with this kind of stuff.”

“I can, and I do. However, not everyone needs HRT. What you may think is species dysphoria could very well just be depression, and what you may need is something far simpler than a complete genetic rewrite.” The doctor explained.

I sat there in silence, barely listening to the doctor's words. He was saying so much when it all boiled down to one word: “no.” No, I couldn't get humanity removal treatment. No, I couldn't have happiness. No, I was doomed to hate myself for the rest of my miserable life. Tears started to creep their way out of my eyes, stinging slightly as they worked their way down my cheeks.

Just as I was about ready to give up and head home, I glanced up and noticed Dr. Erian looking through my papers once more. I was expecting him to scold me again. I hid my face against my knees and closed my eyes, bracing myself for his harsh words to wound my heart further.

“...are you sure becoming a tarantula will make you happy?”

I slowly brought my eyes up to look at Dr. Erian, not fully emerging from my self-made cocoon as I processed his question. What was making him change his mind? Did he believe that I'm suffering from species dysphoria after all, or was he simply taking pity on me? Regardless of the answer, I couldn't let this opportunity slip by my fingers.

“Y-yes… yes it will, doctor.” I responded, almost forcing myself to do so. A tense silence hung in the air for what felt like hours as Dr. Erian stared at me, almost examining me. I gripped the sides of my legs, waiting anxiously for either him to continue lecturing me or for me to have the courage to speak again.

“Well, if that is your answer, then I will approve you for tarantula HRT.” Dr. Erian said, writing on the piece of paper some more. “Considering it's the holiday season, it's likely your pharmacy won't receive your first dosage until after the new year, though.”

My heart almost skipped a beat at the news. I was… actually going to be a tarantula?! “Wait, really? You're… approving me for the HRT?” I asked, nearly jumping out of my seat. “Oh thank you Doc! Thank you very, very much!”

Dr. Erian sighed, writing some more information down on the paper. “As I explained, transitioning to a different species won't be easy. There will be some side effects to expect as your body changes.” He explained, making sure I had calmed down a bit before he continued. “Not all therians will experience the same side effects. Not all side effects will be present at once. Some will show up at different stages of your transition. At the earliest stages of spider HRT, I would primarily expect to see itchy skin as your hair grows in, as well as weight gain to provide material for your additional body parts to develop. Beyond that, you may experience headaches, nausea, dizziness, fatigue, and possible body pain.”

After making sure I understood the side effects I might encounter during my transition, Dr. Erian started digging through a drawer in his desk, and from there pulled out two items. The first was a pamphlet that had “Welcome to your Humanity Removal Therapy” written on the cover, alongside “Species: Spider” and a minimalist illustration of him. “This pamphlet will help guide you through your transition, Miss Thompson. It provides details on a recommended meal plan, the type of environment you should live in, a rough timeline of what changes you should expect and when you should expect them, a full list of potential side effects, and more.” The doctor explained. “I would make sure to give this a thorough read if I were you. I'll also be sending you a digital copy after our meeting. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me and I will provide an answer at the earliest convenience.”

I took the pamphlet in my hands, almost crushing it in excitement. “Of course Doc. I'll definitely give it a read once I get home.”

Just as I was about to get up and leave, Dr. Erian cleared his throat. “There is one other thing I must discuss with you before we conclude here, Miss Thompson.” He said, causing me to sit back down in my seat. “I still disapprove of you not doing any research on therian culture prior to our meeting. So… I'd like for you to interact with other therians while you're taking HRT. It's not mandatory, but I do feel it will not only help you learn about your new lifestyle but also potentially help with your mood.”

As Dr. Erian said that, he handed another item. I took it in my hands and looked it over. Instead of another pamphlet, it was a flyer detailing a therian support group that was close to where I lived. It detailed that it was bi-weekly, and that it was open to those on HRT, regardless of stage, as well as those questioning.

“I'll keep that all in mind. Thank you so much for all of this, Doc.” I said, stuffing the papers in my bag. After discussing insurance and other important information to get my prescription set in stone, I left the office and gave a heavy exhale as soon as I was outside. That was probably the most stressful talk I've ever had, but it was done and over with. While I stood outside and caught my breath, my phone started buzzing. Pulling it out, I saw that I was getting a call from Elisa.

“So, how'd it go?” Elisa asked, sounding exceedingly curious. Looking at the time on my phone, I hadn't realized she had just finished with work by the time I finished my meeting.

“Well, I managed to get the prescription, so that's good. You didn't tell me he was gonna be so scary though.” I answered back with a tiny bit of irritation in my voice.

“Hey I never met the guy personally. Besides, you still got the HRT in the end, so it all worked out.” Elisa answered back. “So how long before you start spinning webs and crawling up walls?”

“Well, my first dosage won't arrive until after the new year. Beyond that, well…” I trailed off a bit, glancing back at my bag and the papers inside of it. “I have some homework to do.”

---

NEXT:

Welcome everyone! This is the start of a (hopefully) long-term project I intend to work on. This is the story of Taylor Thompson, a 25-year-old woman seeking a change in life through humanity removal therapy. In the process of transitioning from human to spider, she'll learn more about the world of therians, as well as learn more about herself and what she wants out of life.

I want to thank @ayviedoesthings, @welldrawnfish, @entroart, @bubbleverseart, @nyxisart, @prettiestplatypus, @deadeyedfae, @kaylasartwork, and anyone else I may have forgotten (there's a lot of people I'm so sorry ><) for creating the world of therian HRT and creating such a community, as well as my fiancé for showing them to me and for inspiring me to give my own version a try. I can't say when the second chapter will be done, so just keep your eyes open, and I hope you all will join me on this long, wild ride.

Thank you so much in advance.

[vettelinyourarea]

lavender haze - toto wolff

genre: fluff, slight angst(?)

word count: 1,061

inspired by lavender haze by taylor swift

warning: s-word, age-gap, english is not my first language

this is the first fict i've ever written

Meet me at midnight

Staring at the ceiling with you

Oh, you don’t ever say too much

And don’t really read into

My melancholia

You have been seeing Toto for a couple of months now. Nothing official, just a little date here and there. One day though, when you and Toto went on a date in Monaco, you both were caught by a paparazzi and it’s messy from that point. 

Here you are, at 2:30 am, sitting in your bed, mentally debating whether to send the message you have typed to the man you have come to care deeply in such a short amount of time.

I don’t think I can handle this, Toto.

By 3:00 am, the man himself is standing at your door. You didn’t expect him to be awake when you send the message 30 minutes earlier. But here he is, hugging you in your bedroom. Holding you while you cried on his chest. 

You have come to realized how different your lives are. Him, being the team principal of a big Formula 1 team, he is used to the media and the press. He is used to all of the public attention. But you’re just a student. Taking your master’s degree, you are not used to the public attentions and the press. 

But he’s here, comforting you. He’s here, coming to your apartment at 3 am just because you texted him. He’s here, despite all of the crazy schedule he has tomorrow. And he’s here, hugging you, comforting you, whispering to you.

“You’re okay, love. I’m here, I will always be here with you.”

I’ve been under scrutiny

You handle it beautifully

All this shit is new to me

I feel the lavender haze creeping up on me

When you first agreed to go on a date with Toto, you knew your relationship would not be the easy one. Having a relationship with someone way older than you is not easy for anyone, let alone the fact that he is a popular Austrian billionaire that will always gather a lot of attention wherever he goes.

Slut, gold digger, you called it. You knew some people would call you those disgusting things the moment they caught glimpse of you two holding hands. But knowing the fact in advance doesn’t make it easier for you. But still, neither of you care about the public perceptions. Because you and Toto knew for a fact that your feelings for each other is real. Both of you have fall in too deep with each other. You both also knew for a fact that the relationship you both have currently would become official in no time. 

The hate, the criticism. Those things only make you fell deeper for the man who is currently sleeping besides you.

All they keep asking me

Is if I’m gonna be your bride

The only kinds of girl they see

Is a one night or a wife

I find it dizzying

They’re bringing up my history

But you aren’t even listening

Going out on a busy weekend night is definitely not your smartest decision. But do you care? Not really. You do get annoyed when paparazzi started to follow you and ask questions about your relationship with Toto. Even though the guy is not even with you at the moment. You would have no problem to talk about the man you have grown to love, but not with them. Not in the situation like now.

You and Toto have officially been in a relationship for 6 months now and the press knew it already. But all they keep asking you is when are you and Toto going to get married. As if marriage is the only kind of romantic relationship. Of course, you grew tired of it, but you held on, not telling Toto about how uncomfortable you are.

But when the press starts to bring up your past relationships, all hell break loose. Toto was the first one to found out about the articles. No, he is not mad at you, of course. “I’m not mad at you, love. Why would I be mad at you because of your past? You are mine and I am yours now,” he said when you asked him.

And that is the truth. He is mad, no scratch that, he is furious at the media because why would they dig deep into your past life? You are not a public figure. You are in the public light because you love him. “I’m sorry that you have to go through these because of me,” he said one night while holding you. “Why would you apologize? I chose to love you first,” you had answered. And he kissed you softly as a reply, and you feel one single tear from his eyes, drop on your cheek. 

Talk your talk and go viral

I just need this love go spiral

You and Toto were having dinner at his house when he first asked your permission to talk about your relationship publicly. People knew about your relationship, of course, but neither of you have ever talked about it to the public. It was one year after your relationship become official. With his age, you knew your relationship with him would get serious very quickly. 

You also don’t care if your relationship become public or stay private, really. You just want to love him and be loved by him. And you already knew how in love he is with you, even without announcing it to the world. You don’t care about what the public thinks of your relationship. With that being said, of course you let him to talk about it.

So, on the next day when he has an interview, he openly talks about your relationship for the first time.

“Yeah, she’s everything I need and she’s the one who keeps me sane in this crazy world.”

That lavender haze

I just wanna stay

I just wanna stay

In that lavender haze

You are sitting with Toto in your shared house. After 4 years of dating and 2 years of marriage, he somehow still managed to give you butterfly. After all those years together, he somehow still managed to take your breath away when you looked at him. Even after all those hard years together with him, you both are still in that lavender haze.

[cowboybarzy]

you’re losing me — mat barzal

ok so I definitely impulse wrote this after listening to the song one too many times! (still listening to it, still sobbing about it) definitely check it out although it may be a bit hard to find haha taylor pls just release it

spoiler: this is a HEA bc I am incapable of writing/reading sad endings. my life sucks enough, my fictional world doesn’t need to either lol so not all aspects of the song are used/it’s not exactly the same as the song, it’s just inspired by it

word count: 3.9k warning: angsty, with hea

"I need a break."

"From what?"

"Us."

—————————

When you started dating your boyfriend Mat seven years ago you thought you were going to get married. Even with his busy schedule he was the most attentive, caring, and loving boyfriend you could have ever dreamed of. When he moved to New York, of course you were extremely happy for him. Playing in the NHL had been his dream since he was a kid, so you were very supportive, but you couldn't help but feel heartbroken over him moving across the country and leaving you. But ever since the day he landed in the city, he begged you to come live with him and eventually he convinced you. You transferred university to one in New York, lived in the dorms for a couple of years until Mat and you got an apartment together. You finished your undergraduate degree, then started and finished your masters. Mat had always been just as supportive of you as you of him. He made living away from your family easy. He made living easy. Date nights in all shapes and forms, luxurious vacations, and just him making you happy with all of his little quirks. Your relationship was something straight out of a movie. It was perfect. Until it wasn't.

You don't know when things began to change in your relationship, nothing really caused it, but one day you started feeling unhappy. Mat changed. Or maybe you did. But you weren't the same two people you once were. When you came home from work, you got a 'hello' and a kiss but the passion behind his eyes were gone. He barely asked you about your day anymore or told you about his. Just enough before you fell back into silence. You didn't used to mind the silence. Sitting comfortably in silence was a sign you truly felt at peace with a person, but when the silence got uncomfortable for you, you knew something was wrong. The amount of times you two went out alone decreased to the point where you could count on one hand the amount of dates you had been on in the past two months.

He just stopped making an effort and any effort you put into the relationship was rejected or gone unnoticed. Like making him dinner or doing his laundry and him not at least thanking you for it.

His love language was most definitely touch, but even that had slipped away day after day. He kissed you in the mornings, at night, and when either of you got home, but the spontaneous make out sessions or random quickies throughout the day were basically nonexistent anymore. You had sex after his games or when he got home from a roadie, but somehow that had started to feel like an effort.

You missed the old Mat that always had some part of his body touching yours. At dinner, sitting next to each other, he usually intertwined his pinky with yours, only breaking to use his knife. Or he always held your hand or had an arms wrapped around you when you were out of the house, like he was afraid to lose you. That stopped and now you were the one afraid that you had lost him.

You had just gotten too comfortable with each other. You knew each other so well you could anticipate what the other would say or feel that you didn't need to tell each other anymore. You still wanted to that, you were still interested in what he had to say, in hearing his voice, but after countless efforts being rejected, it was easier to say nothing.

The worst part was that you couldn't even blame his schedule and just wait for the season to end. It hadn't changed. You had made it work that past few years before, even with you being busy with school, so why now? You were starting to question your self worth, because what else could it be?

The last few months had been hell for you, silently and lonely suffering. Because every time you brought up the subject of your relationship, he said everything was fine and that we'd just hit a little rut that would resolve itself.

You wanted to believe him so badly. You wanted to believe that everything would be okay. You didn't want to throw the last seven years away. You had worked so hard to be here. You had experienced so much together, made so many memories. Was it really worth throwing it all away?

But you were sick of waiting for it to stop. Sick of your efforts being lost. Sick of Mat not seeming to care. You hit your breaking point.

And that's how you found yourself on the verge of tears standing in front of Mat in your kitchen in which you had made so many beautiful memories. "I just can't sit around waiting for you do something anymore. I gave you so many chances for you to do something, say something, risk something for me, but you did nothing. You're losing me, Mat, you don't even seem to care."

He blinked. A blank expression on his face. Just like the last few months. Some part of you wasn't surprised, the other ripped your heart into shreds.

"I just– I need a break."

"From what?," he finally asked, already knowing the answer.

"From us." A tiny, very tiny, weight lifted off you when you said it out loud. You had been wanted to say it for months and although you weren't happy about the situation, you were proud of yourself that you did. "I'm going back to Seattle for a few months. I just need space from you right now."

"When? For how long?" That's probably the most he'd asked about you in a while.

"I haven't booked a flight yet, but probably tomorrow." He nodded, pressing his lips together. "At least until the end of your season. Until you have some free time to figure out if you still love me or not." You lips were shaking, tears threatening to flow freely. You didn't want to say it, but a part of you felt bitter.

"(Y/n)–"

"No!," you stopped him. You couldn't hear it. "If you tell me you love me right now I'll stay. And this wasn't an easy decision but a necessary one. I'm weak for you, Mat. I'd do anything for you, but I don't feel that from you. So, please, just stop. I made up my mind. This has to happen. Maybe in a few months we can work it out, but right now I need space."

He gave you another nod then turned around and left. You heard him rustling around in your bedroom and a few minutes later your front door slammed shut. He was gone. A part of you was angry at him for not putting up a fight, but then again you had asked him not to. But just once, you wanted him not to listen to you and tell and show you how he felt. You guessed you had your answer.

The next few months were rough for you. A different kind than the few months before, but still difficult. You missed Mat terribly. Countless of times you came close to booking a flight back home to New York and burying your face in his chest. But it wasn't your turn this time. He had to fight for you.

But you missed him nonetheless. You had almost called him when Anthony got traded just a couple weeks after you left, but you didn't. Then again when not shortly after he got hurt in a game against Boston. You wanted, but you didn't. Not until he did. But he never did.

It took a while, but you started to be able to breath again. You got a small job at a café, since you took a leave of absence from your big girl job in New York and still needed some money. You made some new friends, most of your old ones having moved away or gotten too out of touch with, and developed a new daily routine. You started feeling better, but the whole inside you was reserved for only Mat to fix and would probably take years to mend if he didn't make a move soon.

Weeks, then months went by and not a single word from Mat. You couldn't even see him on TV for his games (which you still watched) since he was injured and his social media was a bust too. Your friends and his teammates (also your friends) checked in every once in a while, asking how you were and telling you how miserable Mat was. But unless you saw that for yourself, you couldn't really believe it.

Then, by some miracle the Islanders made it to the playoffs and Mat was scheduled to be back to playing. You tuned in, but almost had to turn it back off when you saw his face. His beautiful face that you loved to kiss and touch and simply just look at. Now though, it was riddled with frown marks, dark under eye circles and his unshaven scruff that took you years to like. He fought more on the ice, too. He rarely took penalties for righting but during these next few games he collected them like trophies. He was short and snippy in his post game interviews, again, something usually unlike him. He was miserable, you could tell. But then why had he not made an effort to get you back? Had you pushed him too far away when you left him? Was that the wrong thing to do?

You fought with yourself day and night. You wanted to go back to him and fight for him, but then you remembered that you did. You did fight for him countless of times. In your head you used to screamed at him to do something, say something, risk something, but he never did. So stayed put, waiting for his season to end and see what he would do.

A couple weeks later, your parents were out for dinner, you were home watching a movie with a big glass of wine when the doorbell rang. You didn't feel like answering, but who rang the doorbell after six pm? Your ex boyfriend who just showed up without a warning from across the country did. Or current boyfriend?

He stood there, outside your door with his grown out hair, unshaven beard, and sad look on his face. You started at him, processing. He was here.

"Mat? What–"

"No! It's my turn to talk now! (Y/n), you left. You just fucking left me without a warning." When you opened your mouth to protest, he held up his hand silencing you. "I know, I probably should have seen it coming, but you left! That hurt like hell."

He rubbed his face with his hands, also combing through his hairs before he went on. "I don't know what happened. I swear. I felt something change, yeah, but I just got comfortable. I didn't fall out of love with you. Never. And I'm sorry. I just assumed you felt the same and I shouldn't have. I should have checked in more. I'm sorry for taking for granted what I had. You. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I totally understand if you're done with me, because no one should take you for granted. (Y/n), I love you and the way you care for people, for me. You light up any room you walk in, you make everyone smile, you're– god, you're so so beautiful."

He took a deep breath, fighting his tears. You had given up holding them back pretty much the second you opened the door. "What I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry. I've been such a jerk and I realize that and take full responsibility. These past few months have been hell for me without you there. Our apartment feels so cold without you. But it gave me some time to think about everything I fucked up and everything I will do better if you're willing to take me back. Please take me back, (y/n), I don't know how to live without you." He shook his head and tears away, collecting himself. "No, wait. I came here to apologize and give you time to decide whether you'll forgive me. The 'I want you back' speech will come later. If you'll hear it."

You were speechless. All these months, even before you left, that's what you had been hoping and begging for to hear. Why couldn't you speak? Or move?

Moments passed with the two of you just staring at each other. Mat hesitated to say more, but he couldn't read your face. Did you want to hear more or slap him in the face and tell him to leave? "Alright, uhm, I'm gonna go. Don't really know where, but I'm sure there's a hotel open around here." He got ahold of the suitcase next to him. "Uhm. I guess, text me? Or call? Whenever you're ready."

He waited a few more seconds for you to move, but when you didn't he slowly turned around and walked out of your driveway. Seeing his back turned, him walking away from you again when he had just come back made you snap out of it. "Maty!"

You sobbed running up to him and into his arms that had opened for you the second you yelled his name. You buried your face in the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his scent while you clung to him. He held onto you just as desperately. His hand I'm your hair at the back of your head, the other around your waist holding you tight to his body. You felt like home again after months and months of searching for it. You heart expanded and pounded swiftly for him and him alone.

"Fuck, baby, I missed you so much." He had let you down, but now both of his hands held your cheeks as he looked at you. He dropped his forehead against yours. "I'm so sorry."

You weren't ready to forgive him just yet, but you were so ready for him to kiss you. "Kiss me." And boy, did he. His mouth attacked yours with that intoxicating passion you had missed so much. Your tongues danced their dance without a hitch as he claimed you as his again.

You must have stood out there for minutes before breaking apart and coming up for air. You pulled him into the house, you had given your neighbors enough of a show. You settled on the couch, but put a pillow in between the two of you so you could talk things out before you did something you'd regret. That didn't stop him though from reaching his hand out to you. First, he took your hand then let it wander up to your face. "Come back home with me," he whispered. His sad green eyes were begging, too, a look that was very hard to resist.

"I want to," you whispered back, your voice starting to shake with emotion again. "But I can't just go back like nothing happened. Mat, those few months were extremely painful for me, I can't just ignore that. I'm so happy you realized it now, but I need to see some action. Your words, as happy as I am to hear them, aren't going to fix it alone."

He nodded, then dropped his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry. I'll fix this. I promise."

"We'll fix this. I don't want to throw us away, I want to work on this, but we need to do it slowly."

He nodded again and brushed his lips against your nose. "I have to go back to New York tomorrow. I have a few meetings and exit interviews and stuff, but after that I can come back here or you come back and I'll live with Wally or something for a while so we can work on this."

You nodded and threw the pillow separating you to the floor. You'll hash out the details later, but right now you just needed his big, warm hug. You sat like this for hours, not saying much, just enjoying each others company after you had been away from each other for so long.

The next day, he really did leave to go back to New York but he came back just a few days later. He stayed at a hotel, which did feel weird, but it was for the best. You needed to trust him again and doing it slowly would result in the best outcome. You spent a few hours together every day, catching up and talking about your plans to rebuild your relationship. At the end of the day, he'd bring you home and kiss you for a few minutes, then leave. Every time you wanted to run after him and go with him, but you could already feel the hole in your heart fixing itself, so you didn't and just trusted the process.

The day you told him you were ready to come back to New York was one you'd never forget. He spun you around in the middle of the park you had decided to have lunch at and kissed you like nobody was watching. It felt good, like the beginning again.

You celebrated his birthday a few days later and the day after he left to go visit his family in Vancouver for a few days while you tied up some loose ends here in Seattle. You'd meet back in New York in your apartment.

After an exhausting cross country flight, you were surprised Mat had sent an Uber to pick you from the airport instead of picking you up himself. But when you finally walked through your apartment door and the lights were off except for a few lamps and candles that you had carefully collected over the last few years, you knew why.

Mat, dressed nicely, stood in the middle of your living room surrounded by flowers and lit candles. Little Polaroids and pictures of the two of you were laying across the floor and furniture as well. You approached him slowly, taking his outstretched hand until you stood directly in front of him. His other hand slid into his pants pocket and pulled out a small red velvet box.

"I promise I'm not doing this out of desperation to get you back. I've had this ring since last year. I've been thinking about doing this for a long time. I've just been waiting for the right moment. I didn't want to propose during the season because I wanted to celebrate and do it right. And I had planned on taking you to Africa or the Maldives or somewhere more fun than our apartment but, you know... And I can't wait any longer." He smiled, then chuckled. "But, I'll still take you wherever you want to go."

"Maldives sound good." Why that was the only thing you were answering to you weren't sure, but with a chuckle he kept going.

"Good. And that probably also means you're not going to say no to my next question, but I'll ask anyway." He lowered down in front you onto one knee with his hand still holding onto your left. "(Y/n), for the past seven years, there is not one second that I haven't loved you. I know I haven't always shown that, but I promise you that won't happen again. You are the most important thing in the world to me and I promise there won't be another day where you will question that ever again. There's no one else I want to spend the rest of my life with. It's you, babe, it's always been you. Will you marry me?"

You dropped down to your knees and grabbed his face to kiss him. "Yes," you repeated over and over again between kisses that tasted salty due to the tears running down your face. He got emotional, too, when he finally slid the ring on your finger. It was exactly the one you wanted and had dreamed of getting your entire life. It was perfect and so was he.

And he did keep his promise. Now and every single day there after.

*******

a few years later

"... the end."

"Again!"

"No, it's bed time now, honey."

"No! No sleep! One more book." Your three year old son jumped from your lap and dove towards the bookshelf to pick out another book to read. You checked your phone to see if your husband would be home any minute and in fact he would be, so you agreed to one more book.

"There you guys are." The door opened and Mat walked in with a big smile on his face.

"Daddy!" Your son, again, jumped from your lap into his fathers arms.

"Hi, buddy. I missed you." They hugged dramatically while your son told him all about his morning. Mat eventually put him down and took the couple steps need to get to you.

"Hi, princess. I missed you, too." He picked up your almost one year old daughter, who was also sitting in your lap, and hugged and kissed just as dramatically as he did with your son. Her sleepy eyes lit up with excitement and she filled the room with adorable baby giggles.

"What about me?," you pouted as you stood up.

"You have no idea." His arm wrapped around your shoulder and his lips gently touched yours, but with two children demanding your attention, the kiss was kept short.

You all hung out in the room for a bit, catching up on what Mat had missed while he was away for the last few days on his hockey road trip. Then you put your kids to bed, although putting an exited toddler to bed was no easy task, but eventually he did fall asleep.

"Hi," Mat whispered after you finally closed your sons bedroom door. You turned to face him and his messy hair made you smile. He aged like fine wine and you were thankful every day that he was yours.

"Hey." His hands took ahold of you and slowly pushed you against the hallway wall.

"I missed you," he whispered against your lips before claiming them. His hands roamed your body to find all the places to squeeze and touch while shoving his tongue in your mouth for an amazing kiss. How he went from fun goofy dad to horny teenage in a matter of seconds, you didn't understand, but you also didn't mind.

"Mat, not now. It's the middle of the afternoon," you said between kisses when you could tell this was going to be more than just a make out session.

"So?" He sucked on and kissed your neck. Yeah, what was the problem?

"So? They're both asleep. Hurry up and take me to bed." He didn't need to be told twice and a second later you were up in his arms and enjoying some much needed adult time.

[mulderscully]

i'm gonna make one final post about the nick situation and then i'm not talking about it or answering asks about it anymore.

i am so frustrated and honestly sad about all of this, and not because i do think nick dislikes rwrb or any of the other stuff. i am hurt that so many ppl are all making the fandom look so bad to the point that his team filtered the word rwrb.

you know why they filtered that word? because he is getting fucking harassed by fans. how can you possibly expect him to have positive things to post when you attack him constantly? lately his comment section is full of people calling him a homophobe or somehow accusing him of queer bait. every interview he gets PRESSED about his sexuality, which is no one's buisness but his own. every day people accuse him of hating taylor when they've both said they're close friends. you are making all this horrible shit up and expecting something positive to come from it? what is wrong with y'all? that's not how things work.

was it odd that his team didn't share a story/post about the rwrb sequel? a little bit. does it warrant his behavior, or does it warrant people saying henry should be recast or that nick was "forced" to do it? absolutely not. that's immature and childish.

making empty accounts to the degree that they can't block them all will result in a term being muted, hello!! i get a SMALL fraction of that and it drives me crazy. how must he and his team feel?

nick was still on a press tour for the idea of you when the sequel was announced. we don't know how that may or may not have affected what he was able to post about until recently. m&g was still currently airing in the us so yes he posted about that too for the finale. again, there may have been contracts here, but you all seem to think that nick sits on his phone and actually posts this stuff himself now. he has 5 million followers. he has SAID he is not online, he DOES NOT RUN THAT ACCOUNT HIMSELF. does he probably have a burner? for sure. does his team need his approval and shit? of course. but he is not your bestie on that account the same way tzp is on his because they have wildly different personalities.

i'm pissed off because rwrb is such a lovely story, it's a happy place and a story nick has said is rich and that he is proud of and you all refuse to believe him when he speaks. and that bleeds into how he sees the fandom. the fandom is turning this into an ugly thing for him and for a lot of us who want no part in this.

the sequel isn't even written yet. leave nick alone. stop asking about his sexuality with the obvious intent to out him. stop harassing him with lies about his own feelings. stop making us look bad. just stop. i'm tired and i don't want this to be ruined for all of us before we get to all the lovely things to come when the sequel actually has a press tour, has a premiere, has interviews. please let things happen in due time.

[crumblinggothicarchitecture]

“And the relative simplicity of her music works with people who just want something mindlessly play in the background. It's also really easy for average people- who have no musical background- to sing along with. The lines are simple rhymes, and she never really uses any specialized vocal techniques like Vibrato. Basically, it's music for bland people who think salt is a spice.”

Some of your takes are valid and it’s healthy to critique anything that amasses such a large following in pop culture. However I would argue there is a way to do this without coming across as a pretentious undergraduate who read a few required and recommended readings from the syllabus and now sips their tea with a pinkie protruding. Let’s remember that tumblr is not inherently full of academics and defining anyone who hasn’t got a certain level of education as average or bland is such an Americanised, my way or the highway way of thinking.

It is possible to have differing opinions to others without insulting their intelligence or falsely presenting them in a certain way. Average people as a term in general, is quite elitist and classist. For example, I have a PHD in literature and am a classical musician. I work in publishing and academia.

That said, I still enjoy pop music, sometimes something can just be enjoyable and it’s not that deep.

Criticising Taylor Swift is low hanging fruit for a lit major who claims to be allied with as many causes as yourself. Or, if you do decide to continue with it, I hope you do it in a more articulated manner that focuses more on the quality of your arguments, and not just an assumption that those who oppose you are stupid or “bland” when I suspect the truth is much more complex than that, as it always is.

Best of luck with further studies. I hope to see more diverse content from you in the future, maybe some literary analysis of contemporary texts, or other artists who you deem intellectual enough to enjoy, or some recommendations.

Honestly- I do not know with which tone I should address this anon. I cannot tell if you are being hostile- but I certainly feel that you are being condescending.  

Thanks for at least direct quoting my words with which you draw issue. I appreciate it- some people send me critiques but fail to outline which of my posts is the problem.  

I can capitulate to exactly one of your points- and admit it is a good point- that I am overly sassy on occasion. The post you are angry about is just me chitchatting with someone about Swift’s live shows- it wasn’t a literary analysis. I cannot do an academic analysis of her live shows- but that does not mean I don’t have an opinion of them.  

Again- it was opinion not argument or analysis. Not a serious post. This is not a blog where I am going to speak like an academic all of the time. I’m here to have a little fun- and try to remind myself why I actually do love what I do for a living.

Generally speaking- I will try to make a more obvious, clear difference between what is just an opinion and what is a researched, literary argument on Taylor Swift in my future posting. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.  

There are some other things about your ask that I want to address, because it struck me as a bit unnecessary.  

You say that I’m “coming across as a pretentious undergraduate who read a few required and recommended readings from the syllabus and now sips their tea with a pinkie protruding” (para. 1). This is condescending. No, I did not simply “read a few required and recommended readings” to complete my education. You say you’ve got a PHd in the same discipline- and yet you want to tell me all I did for my degree was read a couple of books? You should know the kind of intellectual work that goes into real literary study. I am trying to show people with this blog, at least in some small way, that while literary study is not so straightforwardly quantifiably valuable like, for instance, physics- it is still a real discipline. With real requirements on argumentation and logic. It takes intellectual skill to wrestle with concepts in literary theory – but more so to apply them in synthesis and interpretation of textual evidence.   

SO, why are you essentially patting my head and saying “aw-cute she read some books and now thinks she’s smart?”   

To be clear- I am not in undergrad. I have finished two different degrees and am currently working on my third.

Why would you accuse me of classism and elitism predicated solely on a bad joke in a post wherein I am not even doing any real literary analysis? What prompted that? I made no effort to even pretend the post in question was little more than opinion- my real posts however, about literary analysis, I take great pains to research and edit those together with care.  

Also, “Americanized” what? Are you American? Because people ‘round here don’t care about what level of education you’ve got? The access to education varies remarkably state to state- and down into Latin American too- and we all know it. So, there is very much a culture of “help each other out when struggling” and not a culture of thinking that everyone of Earth needs to go through American University in order to matter. What are you talking about? Do you think American’s hold the monopoly on having Dogmatic views or “my way or the highway” thinking? That’s obviously not true- so what are you trying to say here?  

Did you miss the part of my Bio where I talk about being a teacher? I am a teacher in one of the poorest- most unfunded places in the country. My friend- I am repulsed by the idea of classism- I take my position in my community very seriously. Knowledge is not a stick with which I attempt to beat others down- Please understand that.  

Next, you say it is possible to critique without insulting people’s intelligence (para. 2). um, I did not insult anyone’s intelligence? I said their taste in music was bland, which does not correlate to an assumption on their intelligence. Um- I have also said many times that I like simple pop- music. Am I calling myself stupid because I’ve been listening to “Espresso” by Sabrina Carpenter on repeat? NOpe. It’s just a silly little song- and dancing to it makes me feel cute, young and free- but it’s still a bland song with no literary or moral value. What exactly is the problem here?  

Okay, within this same point you draw issue with my use of the word average, saying that “average people, as a term...is quite elitist and classist” (para.3). Okay, you misinterpreted my use of the word “average” here- as I was not referring to people as “average” because they have no education, or a different education compared to my own. I was only using the term in the most colloquial sense- meaning “in general” or “on average” as in the median percentage of people have no musical background- therefore they find simplistic pop music the easiest to digest and the simplest thing to play in the background or sing to on car trips. It’s pleasing to the ear because we don’t have too much “work” into understanding it- that's what I mean when I say it’s bland. 

If oatmeal was a type of music- it would be pop music. bland filler- but you know it can still be good.   

Okay, let’s talk about your final point “Taylor Swift is Low Hanging Fruit” (para. Whatever I can’t be bothered to count). Ummm? A billionaire musician who has massive worldwide acclaim and social impact is “low-hanging” to you? I mean yeah- she's clearly not worth study through the lens of poetical semiotics, or God forbid- Linguistic Morphology; however, there are several different ways a good analysis of her work could function- through feminist, Marxists, Post-colonialist, or anything under the umbrella of cultural studies. I also intend to do a rhetorical analysis on her use of “lower class” aesthetics and how that attracts the audience she wants. And, I’ve done a couple of syntactical analyses. However, I had to prop those up with a dichotomization of her work to someone with more impressive literary value, like Kendrick Lamar, because her work alone is not strong enough for that type of analysis.  

Apologies if I have written a return, you did not expect or want- perhaps, I should be less sensitive on the internet. I do often brush off people's condescension, especially when I notice that they are extremely young or just do not know anything at all about my field of study. Because why worry about uninformed opinions? I wanted to speak with you, however, because you do care. It is obvious, and I am glad that people do care. I admire you for caring about the integrity of the discipline- but I really wasn’t doing what you thought I was doing.  

 I admire anyone who also studies Literature, and you say you’re a classical musician, I think that’s so impressive! I love classical music! Rachmaninoff makes me feel insane! I love it! You know that one O’Hara poem? The one that is an ode to Rachmaninoff’s birthday that ends “you’ll never be mentally sober” because I feel that line in my bones. And don’t even get me started on Tchaikovsky- Truly, you might never hear the end of it. (CAnnoNS!!!!??? what a guy)

 I just wanted to clear up anything that you found offensive- but I also defended myself because you do know what I’m talking about when it comes to literary study- and so the conversation took priority over the other meaningless “hate” messages I get. And- boy howdy- I've been getting hate messages pretty much daily. 

Promise to no longer be condescending to me and I think we ought to be friends and not fight- let me start- what did you concentrate on for your PHd? 

 I, myself, focus on post-colonialism, feminist theory, and post-modernist thought in American Literature. I work mainly within US Multi-ethnic literature, though, outside of school, I have an intense fascination with medieval or ancient Literature- primarily, these days, classical Sanskrit poetry. Last year it was an obsession with old Norse literature- lol I like to switch things up. Have you ever read the Heliand? It’s about Viking Jesus- so cool and written in old Saxon! But, anyway, I think the unique prosody of Sanskrit is so neat-o. My other obsession is this one old french poem called "le roman de silence" what a crazy little gender-bending 13th century thing that is (haha). And this doesn't even get into my philosophical preoccupations- though I believe I will discuss those on my blog, too, at some point.

Anyway- perhaps I will talk about my more niche interests on this blog- all good things in time. I have no interest in solely focusing on Taylor Swift forever- but I do want to finish saying all the things I’ve been holding back for years. I think it’s important- because Swift holds such a massive influence over people. It’s healthy, as you said, to critique people like that.  

Okay- Sorry I talked soo long. Peace Out :)

[twopoppies]

Hello,

You're anon early with the tiktok mentioning Larry sort of reminded me about my origin story into this fandom. I had a moment when I was trying to figure who "Larry" was. Anyway, here's my story:

My origin story.

I blame it on Taylor Swift.

It was the Fall of 2022.

At the time, I knew little about One Direction besides the fact that they were a British boyband from X-Factor that Simon Cowell created. I knew that a band member named Zayn had left and that the band had broken up not long after. I could tell you who Harry and Niall were, but the other boys blended into interchangeable band members.

Looking back, I’m not sure why I wasn’t more into them because I had been a massive fan of American boybands of the '90s (NKOTB, BSB, N*SYNC, 98 Degrees, etc.). Being in my mid-forties now, I can assume I thought I wasn’t in One Direction’s focus group, especially since I had friends who took their 1D-obsessed kids to One Direction concerts, and I just wanted to stay away.

Back to Taylor Swift. I’ve been a fan of her music since her debut album, which is still my favorite of hers.

It was the Fall of 2022, and Taylor had a lot of buzz because she was about to release Midnights. I went on a binge of listening to my favorite Taylor songs. I got to the song “Style,” which I have always liked and assumed was about Harry.

I got curious and decided to google if Harry had ever written a song about Taylor. When they were “dating,” they existed outside of my bubble of things to care about. “Two Ghosts” was the song that came up as possibly being written about Taylor.  I knew of and liked the song. I had watched Harry on James Corden (another rabbit hole I went down about celebrities singing Broadway songs which led to Carpool Karaoke and Crosswalk Musicals and eventually to Harry Styles) around the time his debut album came out, liked Sign of the Times, and bought the album.

I searched on YouTube to see if there was a music video of Two Ghosts or a live performance. I was disappointed that there wasn’t a music video, but I did watch a live performance and then scrolled down to the comments.

Holy wow! That’s where I first encountered the fandom. Fans were arguing about who the song was written about and whether Harry (as well as Louis and Taylor, for that matter) was gay, bi, or straight. The thoughts that went through my head!

Yes, other people think this is a beautiful song.

Are we sure this song is about Taylor?

Wait! This song is about a guy?

Who is Louis Tomlinson? I think he might be a 1D band member? Gotta go look that up.  Yep, a 1D band member.

There was a gay couple in 1D? That’s cute.  How am I just finding this out? Why isn’t this bigger news? They probably had to hide like Jonathan Knight of NKOTB and Lance Bass of N*Sync.

Who is Larry Stylinson? Is he a sixth member? I thought there were only five members?

Oh. It’s their names together.

That’s so cute!

Yep, they’re closeted. That’s so sad! Stupid boyband stereotypes.

And I went off to Google to find out more information. I found Tumblr, master posts, videos, fanfics, and down the rabbit hole I fell.

Two years later, I’m still down the rabbit hole with no plans of digging myself out.

Hahahaha! That’s a long, but pretty direct route down the rabbit hole. Glad to have you here!

[basiltonbutliketheherb]

hello and welcome to my chappell roan ted talk

these days, more than ever, i am feeling incredibly disheartened by the treatment of female artists and the deep societal misogyny that it signifies. there is such a vast expanse between this and the typical experience of a male artists, that they have come to occupy an entirely different space in the cultural zeitgeist. male artists are often considered evergreen. allowed to make mistakes, to be rude, to release below average material and be given endless chances, to age, and to have problematic pasts and relationships. (yes, i am generalizing, of course male artists experience mistreatment as well, but generally to a lesser, and less permanent degree. we are talking about women today.)

the experience of a female artist is that of being constantly balanced on a knife’s edge. they are idolized, deified and built up to insanely lofty heights, then one (real or perceived) wrong move and they are viciously turned upon. they are built up almost solely so that they can be delicious to destroy.

we’ve seen this over and over in the past with people like taylor swift, demi lovato, britney spears, katy perry, kristen stewart, miley cyrus, ariana grande etc. (blake lively is a current example.) once they reach a level of overexposure and mass appeal, the vultures begin circling. one bad song, or thoughtless remark, or bad breakup, and they are public enemy #1. even when they do something truly problematic they are not allowed to learn and grow from it as men are. their purpose in society is immediately shifted from entertainment at their charm and success to entertainment at their suffering and demise.

this phenomenon used to be mainly sourced at the hands of media figures. journalists, talk show hosts, gossip sites, magazines. this highly visible upper echelon held all the cards and could sway the public in any direction they pleased in a pre internet monoculture, but now, with the rise of social media, billions of normal people have this power while being safely guarded behind a screen, or even wholly anonymous.

the recent years (and impact of younger generations growing up chronically online) have led to a sort of moral grandstanding, virtue signalling, victorianesque societal revolution. in this space there is no room for error. everything female artists do is taken out of context, twisted, and shamed. they are fully dehumanized and treated like a product belonging to the masses. a subject of discourse more than a person. they are expected to be perfect in every aspect, off the bat, with no room to make mistakes or learn. they need to be knowledgeable in every subject and never ever offend anyone, or do anything to bring anyone, anywhere, anything less than pure satisfaction.

there is no right move a female artist can make. if they take chances to further their career they are calculated, selfish, greedy, competitive. if they are content with the level of success they are at they are lazy, mid, a flop. if they are comfortable with their appearance and body size and aging, they are mediocre, not meant to be famous, a bad influence. but if they alter their appearance in any way they are fake, self obsessed, arrogant, and a bad influence. if they appear perfect, well spoken, kind, and generous then they are liars, manipulators, schemers. but if they appear blunt and not perfectly media trained then they are not cut out for fame, ungrateful, annoying, and spoiled.

( i am aware that i sound like the barbie movie monologue, but that doesn’t change the reality.)

the thing is, there have always been haters, trolls, liars who wanted to instigate the downfall of female celebrities. who couldn’t bear their success and admiration, and just wanted to burn it all to the ground. but today, in this social media generation, the call is often coming from inside the house. so often the ones to turn on famous women and treat them inhumanly, are their own supposed fans. people who are so obsessed with this perfect image that they project onto their fave. who feel so deeply entitled to their time, attention, and recognition that they feel personally slightly and attacked when things don’t go the exact way they want.

let’s take for example, the cancelling of taylor swift’s vienna tour dates.

these shows were cancelled by the venue management, due to a planned terrorist attack that was intended to kill 10s of thousands to 100s of thousands of people. due to the delicacy and danger of this whole situation, taylor swift decided to not mention the incident until after she had finished her european dates and was safely back in the US, as to not further endanger herself, her crew, and her fans.

this caused an unbelievable outrage. people who were both personally affected by the cancellations and those who weren’t, came for her throat. they were furious at her for not talking about it. for not coddling them and telling them how deeply sorry she was. for not grovelling at their feet and self flagellating to make it up to them. once she was back in the states she did in fact release a statement telling everyone how devastated she was over the whole experience and explaining how she felt it was important to stay silent until the right moment to speak on it.

now you’d think this would be enough to assuage the angry mob, but no. they doubled down and declared that it was too little too late, not enough remorse, and that they deserved even more of her attention and repentance. the whole behavior reeked of a desire to chain her to a post and throw bricks until she promises to do better next time and to give everyone their own personal concert and cradle them in her loving motherly arms, to make amends.

and these are supposed to be her FANS. people who were willing to spend hundreds, if not thousands of dollars just to be in the same room as her. just to breathe her air.

now, taylor swift ultimately will be fine (i am talking career wise), she is one of the richest female celebrities in the world. no one can even come close to matching her music sales, fan base, legacy, and broken records. she can lose 10%, 20% of her fan base and still be on top of the world.

but now let’s look at chappell roan.

in the past 6 months or so chappell has rocketed to fame. as someone who has been a fan for ages, this explosion of recognition and admiration was both outstanding to witness, and deeply dread inducing. especially knowing that chappell stands out as a loudly queer artist, who is unique and deeply talented, who is open about her struggle with bipolar disorder and depression, and has no desire to whittle herself down for public consumption. all of this, while incredible and refreshing, was a clear warning sign for what was to come, given the history of female artist reception, even for those who check every box of being publically consumable.

in the past couple weeks there has been a massive wave of both “fans” and those who didn’t even know chappell previously, turning against her for sport. chappell roan released a statement after having nonconsensual interactions with crazed fans, having her family members stalked and doxxed, being yelled at and harassed on the street, and having her personal history, relationships, and childhood mined for exploitative content.

now this behavior may sound familiar. just the typical feral stan behavior that celebs often experience.

but one key factor here is that chappell is brand new to this level of exposure. her fame exploded before her income could from this success, far too suddenly to have taylor swift level security measures set in place around herself and the ones she loves. too sudden for anyone to adapt to their experience of existing in public, online, and even private spaces being permanently altered. she woke up to an entirely new world and had little time to figure out how to move within it without further damaging her own mental health and safety, and likely few people around her who had experienced even close to this caliber of success and could guide her through it. all with no major record label crafting her image or providing pr.

so, the statement. chappell has recently gone on social media and set boundaries for herself. for how she chooses to move within this new world. she has explained the way this rise to fame has impacted her mental health and filled her life with fear and anxiety. she has made her position clear that she is an artist professionally, but a human being when she’s off the clock. her career is just that, a job. an amazing job, yes, but she is still an autonomous person who is allowed to clock out. who is allowed to turn off the character that she puts on for performances, and be left alone when she is not at work.

this includes, (considered most egregious) fans not touching her without permission, coming up to her in public and asking for pictures or autographs, or shouting her legal name at her on the street and taking pictures of her. as well as not harassing the people in her life or sharing her personal information online.

now while these things all sound reasonable, and something any one of us regular folk would expect in our daily lives, this boundary setting is nearly unprecedented for female artists. anyone who has tried has been deemed a cultural blight.

celebrity worship and stan behaviour has lead to an extremely parasocial society.

fans feel it is their god given right to own every aspect of a celebrity. they “deserve” to know every detail of their relationships, their thoughts on politics and events, their secrets and shames and preferences and loves and traumas. they are “entitled” to their time, attention, and endless gratitude, no matter what they are going through or willing to offer up. female celebrities are solely there for the consumption of the general public, they are to be picked apart and chewed up strip by strip. fans “deserve” to touch them, take pictures of them, yell at them, just for a moment of recognition, validation of their obsession, a glimpse of heaven at the alter of their deity. this is just the way it is, has always been, and will always be.

but chappell roan has said NO. no, this is not the way it has to be. just because something has been tolerated in the past, doesn’t mean it’s not wrong. doesn’t mean the future generations need to abide by the tradition of stalking, harassing, and devouring. doesn’t mean that it should be the norm to accept the potential of home invasions, hacking, and assassination attempts.

this simple act of boundary setting has caused an absolute outrage. media publications, other artists, “fans”, haters, and causal media consumers have come with pitchforks and torches to burn her at the stake. they say she is entitled and ungrateful, despite her explaining how deeply grateful she is to all those who support her and also support her privacy. they say she is a nobody and hasn’t earned the right to set boundaries. that society needs to swish her like wine in their mouths and spit her out once they’ve tasted enough, before she’s allowed to say anything other than “thank you thank you i love you i am not worthy”. they say she is not cut out for fame, because this is what fame is and has to be for all female celebrities. they do not get to have autonomy or choice. how absurd that they’d even try, how selfish and greedy and self important to think they deserve it??

of course true fans are going to rock with her no matter what, but chappell is brand new to most. to outsiders she is a face that appeared one day already cemented in a superstar position, and was suddenly unavoidable, confusing, and suspicious. the court of public opinion and the power of negative discourse have a weight to them which can easily overshadow the newfound success of a niche, less easily marketable celebrity like chappell, who has only just gotten her foot in the door.

in the midst of this discourse something else has occurred to deepen the gash of public animosity. chappell roan was given the career and life changing opportunity to perform at the VMAs for millions of people. an opportunity to grow her critical notoriety and fan base, as well as bring queer representation to the live screen, that would be a massive career misstep to pass up on. in accepting this opportunity, chappell was forced to cancel a couple shows that had been planned for a while. she tried to make the situation work for everyone, but ultimately was unable to. she expressed her regret and apologies and assured everyone that she would be rescheduling those shows when she had the chance.

as we have seen with the taylor swift vienna situation, this was NOT going to go down well.

“fans” came after her with a vengeance. they called her selfish, greedy, fake, and wicked for choosing her career growth over their personal experiences. said she was an ungrateful hypocrite for asking the world for space and then choosing the option to be unhumble and promote herself to the masses. the tickets were refunded, but people had CHOSEN to book hotels and fly out to see her in concert and thus blamed her for their financial burden. just as taylor swift “fans” did with the vienna tour dates.

as if chappell roan should be obligated to recoup them for the financial choices they made, and give them the experience they wanted right the fuck now, with the right level of humility, or else be deserving of punishment.

it is understandable for fans to be disappointed that they didn’t receive the experience they hoped for. that the situation was so sticky and immediate that they didn’t have time to cancel plans and grieve the loss. i know when i waited two hours after the opener at sabrina carpenter’s tour last year, just to find out she wasn’t able to perform due to bomb threats, i was heartbroken and angry at the world. i was frustrated with how the situation was handled by management, but i was not angry AT sabrina. i didn’t evicerate her online and demand that she FIX my heartbreak at once. i sat with my feelings and knew that there would be other opportunities, and that

sometimes life isn’t gratifying, no matter how fucking unfair it feels.

it is becoming more and more rare for any degree of understanding and grace to be given to female artists. every success i witness for the artists i appreciate (like this year for sabrina and chappell) fills me with a deep foreboding dread. because they are considered disposable and easily replaceable in this instant gratification, tiktok algorithm generation. everything has to be right now, done perfectly, and hold up to high moral inspection or else they are slotted for obscurity or public crucifixtion.

meanwhile, every aspect of these situations is deemed frivolous by society. they say if you don’t like it, get out and go work at dairy queen, there’s a line waiting behind you who are willing to appease us more. they say that having income from success immediately delegitimizes any social commentary or personal issues. because celebrities are not human beings. they are religious figures. they are both royalty and court jesters. they are toys to be played with ad nauseam, and then discarded.

but why?

why does it have to be this way? why does wanting to share your art with the world mean giving up your safety, privacy, and peace? why is it okay for male celebs to be grumpy and brash and never interact with fans, but it is a cardinal sin for female celebs to do the same or to transparently ask for it? and why is any of this important to you and i, who are barely scraping by and unlikely to ever be famous? why does it matter when these women generally still have some semblance of their careers leftover even after mass disdain?

because all of this is indicative of a greater issue that pervades every aspect of society. it is simply that with famous people we can see it on a macro scale.

all women and femme presenting people are held to the same standard as female celebrities, but on a less publicly visible level. in our careers, our relationships, our expressions of joy, our community and bonds with other women, and our own calcified internal misogyny.

we are here for consumption, we are here for the pleasure and entertainment of others. how dare we ask for more? how dare we know our power and set boundaries for ourselves? how dare we think we deserve a seat at the table, even as we age and grow and expand beyond the bounds of charming ingénue? how dare we collaborate instead of seeing each other as competitors and threats to our own power and beauty and ability to be loved?

how fucking DARE we ever get the idea that we are worth more than our youth and beauty and service to others?

i don’t know how we, as a whole, address any of this when the matter at hand is so deeply pervasive and engrained in the foundation of society. but i, for one, will start by looking at my own role in the treatment of female artists.

i will take the time to ask myself why even the existence of certain figures sparks a feeling of rage within me, and why i feel such a deep desire to know every detail, action, and thought of the artists i appreciate. why i feel joy and satisfaction when female artists i dislike are taken down, or “beat” by someone i prefer. why i let drama that has nothing to do with me alter my perception of art created by people i do not know personally. why my black and white thinking and sense of justice only applies to those who don’t resonate with me on an artistic or personal level.

i will work on finding grace and understanding for those who are trying to grow beyond their mistakes and be better people, the way that i am trying to everyday. those who exist both in the public sphere and in my daily life.

because it’s never too late to rip out the teeth of the bear trap we were born in.

long story short: chappell roan did nothing wrong. but if she ever truly does, all you can do is ask for accountability, then take a breath, get the fuck over it, and see the bigger picture for once

thank you for coming to my ted talk

[zahri-melitor]

Okay, I see the angle of the complaints but you all really should chill out: Z starts Tom Taylor's Nightwing run

I am exactly one story arc into Taylor's Nightwing and I wanted to pause right at the start and chart out my feelings, because I do try to avoid commenting on these things until I actually see them myself, and I want a record of my feelings right now, where I just finished the Ric Grayson arc.

The problem isn't 'this is a bad Nightwing run' or 'this is an uncharacteristic Nightwing run'. I've read those. This is not Bruce Jones with TentaTodd or Tony S. Daniels' frankly meandering DickBats run on Batman (or Judd Winick's overlapping 'what if this was actually about Jason not Dick' stories) or the multitude of 'this isn't right for Dick' problems with the Seeley & King run of Grayson, or the entire Ric Grayson saga.

Because look, from the opening moves of this story, Taylor's doing a whole bunch of things that signal that he knows the stories he's working with.

It's set in Blüdhaven. It's using existing supporting cast who should be around. It's reflecting on and referencing previous Blüdhaven stories and and parts of Dick's background and linking things up and picking up old stories to work with.

Even just take Nightwing #78, the very first issue of the run, the first issue of Nightwing under Infinite Frontier policies: we see Taylor picking up the threads left by Tim Seeley's run, and dumping in a decent selection of Chuck Dixon and Devin Grayson references.

The very first thing Taylor has Blockbuster do is twist someone's head off, which is the exact same beat Blockbuster had on his introduction as a Nightwing villain in Nightwing #6 1996. My instantaneous thought was "oh shit, are we going to run a Dudley Soames plot?" because that's preboot Blockbuster. That's the guy who haunted Dixon and Grayson's runs, with a level of very personal violence that wasn't as clear in Seeley's portrayal.

Dick immediately points out his apartment building, which he owns, and which by implication he plans to have as affordable housing. Dick's apartment complex is obvious important during the Dixon and Grayson runs right up until it blows up. His apartment is empty looking and sad, because Dick's just moved back in; because Dick's terrible at unpacking; because Dick doesn't decorate until he feels comfortable with his situation.

He also sets up the first indications of the Heartless parallels he's planning to build.

Taylor's calling out the falling-and-catching themes of Nightwing and explicitly building them in and acknowledging how important they are to ground a run in terms of Dick's motivations and his fears.

It's even, as one of the markers I like to point out, using a Flying-Graysons-In-Robin-Costumes reflection from Bruce Redondo, and the choice of which costume to put the Flying Graysons in does actually say a lot about the trajectory and beats of the plot. It means Dick is being reflective and looking back and relying on his background, not pushing Bruce and his childhood away.

Also in the 'this is Infinite Frontier, it's all back baby!!!' category that I noticed: Dick's past as a cop is referenced; Barbara's law degree (though Dick having one as well is new-to-me); Barbara is tracking Dick and has eyes-on him (both the mask lens camera but also fond memories of Babs just having cameras all over Dick's apartment and him being perfectly fine with her 'watching'); Tim is the very second visitor Dick gets (after Babs) and the first thing they do is make terrible jokes and go train surfing; and Tim naming the dog a terrible pun (which he used to do to Dick's car and so on just to annoy him). And that's just stuff that immediately leapt out at me and not all of the layers and layers of artist and writer references layered in in the tribute way comics do.

He's even using the right villains, from Dick's actual rogues gallery: Brutale! Electrocutioner! Using the Maronis alongside Zucco for drama is clearly leaning into The Long Halloween and Dark Victory for a Dick origin! Dick does actually have the various Gotham crime families as an ongoing set of shared villains because Two-Face is one of his major enemies in his set of Gotham Rogues and all the themes around that.

The problem isn't that Taylor doesn't know what he's working with, or that he doesn't know where to pitch a Nightwing run, or that his writing sucks. It's that he doesn't deliver on the potential he's offering, and that's what is aggravating because it's close but not quite exactly what people want (but that's also the zone that generates some of the best fanfic, because the potential is there and people want to fix it).

My other immediate impression is that Taylor does, yes, fail to think through the implications of what he's just set up, in any meaningful sense. Which is probably why I've found his single issue stories and minis are generally fine to read; there's not enough space for the situation that's just been set up to come back around and whack the characters in the head; and in a longer run and some of what Taylor is setting up here, there are all sorts of threads possible to set up that you should expect to come back around and cause Dick problems later on, and from what everyone's said Taylor's had issues delivering on that.

Taylor gives Dick a fortune via Alfred's estate because he wants to play with the idea of Dick stepping into that role of philanthropist that Bruce is currently unable to occupy, and reflect on the differences between the characters. And it's a late delivery from the executor (Barbara) due to the whole Ric Grayson situation, so we don't actually see what other distributions Alfred made in his will: if he left anything for any of the other children he helped to raise; if he left anything for his own daughter Julia Pennyworth, and so on. (It's also a reflection of Bruce showing up and giving Dick his trust fund from his parents early on in Dixon's run to allow Dick to finance setting up as a vigilante, I will note)

It's a convenience for the plot. It's also clearly "Taylor hasn't stopped to think through how this would affect any other character". And look, he doesn't have to; he's writing Nightwing, not the entire Bat book line, and so a full discussion of probate is a bit silly in a book that does not and probably will not ever contain Julia Pennyworth.

It really feels like the problem is it's 'close enough but not quite' that the small aggravations build up on people, to the point that all they see is their frustration rather than the fact that at least 80% of the story is targeted in the right zone, where people want it to be.

(And hey! I will also say that, for instance, I find Tim Seeley's Nightwing run specifically to also fall into that 'close but not quite' zone where it gets Dick and it gets what a Nightwing story should involve, but tragically Seeley is more interested in elaborating plot beats that I would prefer to leave lying and focuses on things I would overlook in favour of more-interesting-to-me storytelling opportunities. It happens. Seeley's a huge fan of a bunch of elements of Devin Grayson's Nightwing stories that, while I am a Devin defender, are definitely not beats that I would be prioritising in terms of rescuing from her work)

It's just to me... "I really wish Taylor wouldn't tie off things quickly and neatly and solve situations within an issue or two" and "I wish Taylor was better at long term payoffs" and "that has a bunch of unfortunate implications that aren't played out" and "the characterisation is too nicey-nice and smoothed over" are accurate complaints from what I've seen so far, but they're also reflecting on how to take adequate or good to great, rather than "this is a title lost in the wilderness, please bring it home" like a bunch of people are acting that it is.

[gadriezmannsgirl]

Not Like Others -P.G (1)

I know I took a lot of posting this but I hope the wait was worth it... I'm starting my new semester at Uni and I'm really busy learning the units, doing homeworks and stuffs, I've taken a little bit of advantage to post and be active this week since the first week is always quieter, doing the welcome and those things, so here it is.

This may be a little boring but it is needed to understand what will happen and everything in the next chapters

Feedback is highly appreaciated, please! Let me know what you think!!

|Chapter II| |Chapter III|

Summary: When you get the chance of meeting Pablo Gavi, you don't seem to react as the rest of people would do and that attracts him to you

January 17th, 2023

“Here we are” Your dad, Armando Santos, spoke with a big smile “Welcome to Barcelona, Spain” He introduced as you only looked at the pretty much empty, airport

“Gorgeous” Gregorio, your two years older brother said in fake excitement as you chuckled a little, your dad turned around looking at him narrowing his eyes “The airport’s nice!”

“Déjate de hostias, hombre. No has visto la verdadera belleza” (Stop joking around, youngman. You haven’t seen the real beauty) Your dad said with a heavy Spanish accent, making your mom, Cristina Aguilar, raise her eyebrows

“Already into the mood? Good” You laughed once more

“Stop it, señorita” Your dad said getting over to tickle you but you walked backwards and pushed his hands down when some yellings grabbed yours and your family’s attention. There was a light group of girls, screaming with their phones up.

“Can’t we go back to Canada? People here looks a bit crazy”

“You’re Spanish too” Gregorio said as you pushed him lightly while laughing “They must be fangirls or something”

“Is some singer coming here?” You ask “Harry Styles? Taylor Swift? Ed Sheeran? Coldplay? Lasso? Myke Towers? Maluma?”

“None of those, right now”

“Actors?” You ask “If Tom Hiddleston is there, I’ll make a way in it too”

“You’re not making a way inside anything” Your mom said as you raise your hands up

“I’m joking” You started walking towards your luggage “Or am I?”

“Y/N!” You laughed lightly

“I will not” You say and after a few seconds yawned “Joder, I’m so tired” You whined “So jetlagged I just wanna sleep through my whole college degree and wake up to my graduation day” You felt Gregorio laugh openly

“Get the nice pics; touch that diploma and go to sleep again?” You nod excited with a smile on

“And the party, never forget the party” He ruffled your hair “¡Hey! Gotta look pretty after this whole stressing out thing”

“You always look pretty but I think that’s not how it works” Your mom laughed lightly, grabbing your three years old brother’s hand, Mauricio “, sorry to ruin that dream of yours” You groan lightly stomping your feet in the airport ground, the yells intensified

“Joder, ¿Pero qué carajos estará pasando ahí?” (Fuck, but what the hell is going on there?) Armando replied impressed with the yelling

“Mejor será que nos vayamos. Mauricio can cry at any given minute” (It’s the best if we leave) Cristina said guiding you to start walking

“Y/N” Your dad called you as you turned around to face him “Don’t you worry, I thought the same thing too when I was in Uni” He winks at you as you smile “But sadly after I graduated it, I wanted to go at it again. Those always are the good times” He said as you lifted your eyebrows up, not believing that.

How does stressing out and having no time to even shower sometimes is good times?

“What? I was a nerd, yes. But a cool one, I always got out on parties and at the same time got those one hundred on my grades? That’s one of a kind. How do you think I got your mom?” You laugh shaking your head as your mom pinched your dad making him laugh lightly “Let’s go, we gotta go home so we can take a good and well deserved nap before readjusting ourselves here” He said as you kept on walking

You just landed from Canada after a whole seven hours flight to your home, the place you were born in, your beautiful Barcelona. The same Barcelona you had to leave when you were barely four years old to move all the way to Canada because of your parent’s job and after fourteen years over there, after a whole life created, you were moving back where you started. You were moving back home.

A home where you didn’t knew a single thing of about, you didn’t know the Catalans streets but still you always loved seeing pictures of them on your parents photographic albums.

Good thing is that your parent’s never allowed you or your brother to forget your Hispanics roots, often while being on the house in Canada, speaking in Spanish or a really deep Spanglish where only the fourth of you could really understand it. You also know the basics of Catalan and you are able to maintain a conversation if the person talking to you is speaking really slowly and/or doesn’t have any problems of repeating itself a few times but you indeed could speak Catalan.

The fact you had to learn and adjust to this place made you both excited and nervous, Barcelona was big and you could easily get lost in the city, plus the fact you didn’t know anyone else here besides your family from your dad’s side was terrifying you. And you to get to know your Uni, making friends, lots of learning were about to come and you were about to come out of your body, feeling like collapsing from just the thought of it.

“How do we have a car here?” Gregorio asked

“Maybe because you have grandparents here?” You heard the so known voice of your grandmother, Estella

“Lila!” You yelled out with happiness on your voice going over to hug the not-so-old but not-so-young lady, excited as she welcomed you in her tight and warm grip

“How was the flight?” She asked after hugging and inspecting you whole from top to bottom

“Tiring” You said “At least I spend it good, slept a bit and read this new book I got, unlike Grego, who had a kid behind him and apparently was kicking him”

“That freaking bastard” He cursed under his breath as you laugh lightly “I really wanted to punch the kid”

“Watch that mouth, youngman. Violence is never good and only brings you more problems” El abuelo, Enrique spoke nodding a few times as he spoke with a smile on, he opened his arms for Gregorio to get in his hold “You’re almost as tall as me”

“That’s not much, dad” Your dad smiled causing you to laugh as the abuelo lifted his eyebrows at him

“We’re gonna talk about this at home” The abuelo said before laughing and bringing your dad into a hug

“Cristina, you’re looking fantastic”

“I can say the same thing for you, Estella” Your mom hugged your grandma, as your felt a tug on your hand, you looked down and saw your little brother, Mauricio pushing his arms out for you and you picked him up placing him in your hip.

He was looking behind him and a few times, you had to readjust your hold on him since he was being moody and moving around a lot

“Mau, para” You said looking at him and catched him looking behind himself, you looked towards he was looking and met the eyes of a boy, who was with other guys and who must be around your age, with brown hair, big eyes and his face was in a frown. You couldn’t see him properly because as soon as you looked over to him, he turned his gaze away.

And Mauricio who pulled at your necklace brought your attention, completely forgetting about the guy. “Así no, Mau; me lastimas. Be careful” (Not like that, Mau; you’re hurting me) You said bouncing the boy as he giggled and that catched your grandma’s attention

“This is the little one!” She exclaimed looking over to Mauricio who buried his head into your neck shy “I’m abuelita, mi amor!” She smiled getting closer to you as you encouraged the young one to look at the lady and once he did, he was laughing in her arms.

Your dad and granddad seemed to forget about the fact they were on an airport entrance as they chatted for a few minutes, you felt someone looking at you and turned around watching this time, two guys along the same one from earlier looking at you, you brushed them off and looked towards your mom.

Weird.

Spanish people so far, were really weird. Yourself, included.

“Someone already have admirers?” She had noticed as you smiled

“You wish” You shake your head and suppressed a yawn    

“Let’s go home?” She noticed as you smiled thanking her “We can keep the chat at home, met you there?” The olderly couple nodded and you saw your abuelo give your dad some keys.

“House and car” He pronounced each one as your dad smiled

“Thanks, dad. We’ll see you there” And with that they left to their car as your dad went to what it seemed to be, now, his car.

“Ready for our new chapter in Barcelona?” Your dad asks as both your hermano and you

You were opposed by the idea of leaving what it seemed your place for forever, your old house, your streets, your friends, your team, your whole life behind, but soon, realized you only left it behind if you allow yourself to forget it and you weren’t going to. And they weren't going to forget you either. Eventually you made peace with the fact of this new and big change for you, even if you weren’t so fond of changes and saw the good side of it and finally could see yourself settling into your real place. In your Barcelona.

So, as your dad asked, you looked at your brother and he looked back at you, smiling, you nodded at each other.

“We’re Ready”

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld

I'm planning to do a taglist for Not Like Others, if you want to be there, comment a little "NLO taglist, please" and I will know that you wanna be included in it and you will be. Like I said in the beggining, I truly hope you guys like it, please let me know what you think. Feedback is really important to me because it lets me know you like my works, it helps me with writing and makes me feel nice knowing all the effort I put in these little stories is worth it. With this being said, I read you guys, take care!

[mariacallous]

A 32-year-old man in Pennsylvania posted a video on YouTube this week where he picked up a clear plastic bag containing the severed head of his father and held it in front of the camera.

“This is the head of Mike Mohn, a federal employee of over 20 years, and my father,” Justin Mohn said in the now-deleted video reviewed by WIRED. “He is now in hell for eternity as a traitor to his country.”

Over the course of the next 14 minutes, he ranted about a myriad of far-right talking points and conspiracies including Black Lives Matter, taxes, the LGBTQ community, and the Biden administration. He also urged viewers to kill all federal employees and seize federal offices, while railing against “far-left woke mobs.” He claimed to be the head of an American militia network known as Mohn’s Militia. “I am now officially the acting president of America under martial law,” he said.

But there was one issue that he focused on more than any other: migrants along the southern US border.

“The federal government of America has declared war on the American citizens and the American states,” the man says. “America will be less protected when the fifth column of illegal immigrants strikes Americans on our own soil.”

He also made demands that the US close its borders to immigrants and for “the mass deportation of the millions of illegal immigrants who have entered the country under the Biden regime, which has put Americans in direct harm.”

Over the past few weeks, right-wing rhetoric around a so-called migrant invasion reached new heights as the standoff between Texas governor Greg Abbott and President Joe Biden’s administration over the removal of razor wire on the Texas-Mexico border has continued. A convoy of far-right extremists is driving to the border and Republican politicians around the country have come out in support of Abbott.

Multiple researchers tell WIRED that the events and rhetoric surrounding the Texas-Mexico border could be linked to the violent video Mohn posted this week. This border controversy and the incendiary rhetoric surrounding it appeared to be something that deeply angered Mohn, highlighted by his YouTube video and the rest of his extensive online footprint of books, pamphlets, music and social media posts, many of which are steeped in far-right conspiracies. In a 2020 essay entitled “America’s Coming Bloody Revolution,” Mohn claims a violent revolution against the government is not only necessary but will succeed.

“For individuals in this conspiratorial mindset who have been subjected to countless hours of extremist narratives and grievances, every new flashpoint—from the Texas border crisis to the Israel/Hamas war to Taylor Swift—is evidence that their worldview is the reality,” Jon Lewis, a research fellow with the Program on Extremism at George Washington University, tells WIRED. “This act of violence represents the threat posed by mainstreaming hateful and dehumanizing rhetoric.”

“I listened to his diatribe about 20 times to write it all out and there is zero doubt in my mind that he was influenced by the recent events involving Texas,” Caroline Orr, a behavioral scientist and postdoctoral researcher at the University of Maryland who tracks extremism online, wrote on X. “This was expected and there will be others.”

Investigators have not mentioned a motive for the alleged decapitation, but Mohn was formally charged early Wednesday morning with first-degree murder, abuse of a corpse, and possession of an instrument of crime with intent. Police said in a statement posted to Facebook that they were alerted to the incident when Mohn’s mother called 911 and said she had come home to find her husband’s decapitated body on the floor of their bathroom. Mohn was arrested 100 miles away on Tuesday evening when he was discovered armed and wandering around a Pennsylvania National Guard training center at Fort Indiantown Gap, AP reported.

Multiple experts believe that extremism and conspiracy theories could still be at the root of what happened. “Some have been quick to write Mohn off as mentally unwell and while this may be accurate, this incident illustrates the threat of anti-government extremism and conspiracy theories, which have become all too common since the 2020 election,” Katherine Kenealy, the head of threat analysis at the Institute for Strategic Dialogue, tells WIRED. “He was so steeped in anti-government beliefs that he not only viewed his father as a ‘traitor’ because of his purported job, but selected him as a target because of it.”

Following the alleged murder, far-right figures immediately began boosting conspiracies about the beheading being a false flag in favor of the Democrats—something that has virtually become a reflex action among far-right figures following major news.

One of the main narratives shared was a claim that the Democrats were behind the incident as a way of boosting support for the Preventing Private Paramilitary Activity bill currently making its way through Congress. One of those pushing this narrative was Laura Loomer, a close ally of former president Donald Trump.

“Justin Mohn sure looks like the perfect Democrat Patsy for the sake of demonizing people who call out the invasion on the border, and for the sake of getting support to ban militia,” Loomer wrote on X, adding: “Just another ‘coincidence.’”

“False flag and ‘psyop’ conspiracy theories have rapidly spread online since the incident,” Kenealy tells WIRED. “These narratives detract from the severity of the incident and attempt to minimize the threat posed by anti-government ideologies.”

But despite a long history of Mohn expressing his disturbing views on platforms like Reddit, Facebook, Twitter, as well as publishing music on YouTube, Spotify, and Deezer, experts say that it would have been virtually impossible to identify him as a threat before his alleged beheading of this father this week.

“It’s more or less impossible to track this stuff in advance most of the time,” Orr tells WIRED. “We can make an educated guess about what will happen when politicians are putting out inflammatory rhetoric that has incited violence previously, but it’s extremely hard to identify who is going to be the one who responds to the ‘call.’”

As the convoy heads toward the border and rallies are organized in Eagle Pass, Texas, Republican lawmakers, including former president Donald Trump, continue to push violent rhetoric. These kinds of actions, experts say, could lead to potential violence.

“It's hard to determine when acts of violence like this will occur, but given the panic being spread about the border, it's highly likely that more will act on these narratives,” Samantha Kutner, an extremism researcher and CEO of counter-terrorism company GlitterPill, tells WIRED. “Not everyone who gets exposed to conspiratorial worldviews and beliefs and theories about the border wall engages in violence, but the proliferation of disinformation and conspiracy theories does impact certain subsets of the population who are perhaps more vulnerable to that messaging than others.”