#Social media community stresses have just been so much more pressing for me

[milfbrainrot]

having the energy to do more than rot and scroll is so nice loll. I know social media is bad for me but I genuinely have not been able to do much else which then puts me in a cycle of more mental bads and then more scrolling etc. So it's nice to actually have a path out of all that and I rly hope wellbutrin keeps working for me in that way.

[blorbo-from-the-cosmos]

Helloo! 🎀 I totally understand disconnecting from social media because that’s something I do too and life can get so busy.

Have your beliefs changed regarding shifting or has something changed in your journey? Have you been shifting, do you have any new DRs or favorite experiences to share?

hi!!!

oh my gosh, YES. my beliefs have changed so much. Gonna get controversial for a sec because being away from medias regarding shifting (shiftblr, shifttok, etc) and allowing myself to come to my own conclusions through trial and error have really changed the way I view both shifting and manifesting in general. while many people see it as a method specifically to gain material and physical results, I personally view it as an internalized state that allows me to be open to tangible results through working on my own personal fulfillment.

This is not to make myself sound high and mighty, please don’t take it as me trying to sound better than anyone because of course you are your own creator and therefore the center of YOUR universe. MY universe, I simply see, is quite different from others who are within the shifting and manifesting community and that is okay!! I think the biggest thing is I no longer feel that yearning and despair for a physical result which is really common when you’re newer at this sort of thing. I accept what is and adapt it to fit my own narrative. Ive experienced a lot of change this way in both physical, alternate, and spiritual realities.

Nobody come for me but I actually don’t really focus on shifting anymore! 😭 NOT THAT I DONT BELIEVE AND DONT STILL DO IT WHEN I CAN MAKE THE EFFORT, OKAY??? I have actually shifted a few times since my last time on this blog and I promise to share those stories in due time <3 it’s just that when I FIRST discovered shifting I was barely 18/19 or so, focused on shifting for my y/n moment into shows and media from my childhood and teenagehood. I was a full time college student with all the time in the world, lost within an identity crisis, and without a speck of knowledge on what it is I wanted to do with my life (both in this world, and any other).

I am now a college graduate, paying my way through my second degree with a well paying full time job. I’ve gone to concerts, raves, events, and festivals. I’ve traveled many places I never thought I’d see between San Diego and New York. I am planning to move and start my dream life in Seattle, as well as actively pursuing traveling abroad. I have less time to focus on shifting for “the plot,” and my manifesting and shifting is saved more for daily things like the assumption I make true that I’m always on time no matter how late I leave and that the light is always green when I need it on the way to work lol.

Have I given up on those realities I dreamed of as a teen? No, of course not. I’m more confident than ever I’ll see the ones I never got to and will shift again to the ones I have. However, it’s not a pressing matter since I know I can do it whenever I want as long as I make the effort, so it sort of sits on the back burner. I’m fully in control of reality and no longer stress about molding it, because it molds itself for me 🙂‍↕️

[dragoneyes618]

The Second-Term Congressman from the Bronx spoke to The Jewish Press about the benefits of visiting Israel, facing far-left hate, and the future of Israel and Gaza

The Jewish Press: Hi, thank you so much for making time to speak to us. And I know the Jewish community does greatly appreciate your support. It’s been absolutely incredible.

Rep. Torres: Well, that’s too kind, but I appreciate it.

You’ve said that your positive stance toward Israel was heavily shaped by your visit there in 2015. You’ve called it one of the most transformative experiences of your life. Do you think things would be different if more opponents of Israel would actually visit, as you did? And does ignorance about what Israel is about lead to the hostility toward Israel that we are seeing? Or is it just the age-old deep-seated antisemitism rearing its ugly head?

My experience tells me that there’s no substitute for firsthand experience with Israel. It’s the best form of education. And I find that the most vociferous critics of the Jewish State have actually never gone to Israel, and have never seen the facts on the ground with their own eyes.

You know, were it not for my own engagement with Israel, I would have never become a Zionist. I grew up in a community that was almost exclusively Latino and African American; I had no engagement with the Jewish community. And then when I became a [City] Council member in 2014, I was invited by the Jewish Community Relations Council to go on a delegation to Israel. And as you point out, I’ve often described it as one of the most transformative experiences of my life – going to Yad Vashem, going to Masada, going to a place like Sderot. And I remember speaking to the local mayor of Sderot who said that the majority of his children struggle with post-traumatic stress, because families like his live under the threat of rocket fire.

I remember seeing bus stops doubling as bomb shelters. I thought to myself, imagine the sheer trauma of a five-year-old who’s seeking refuge in a bomb shelter while rockets are being fired and sirens are going off and adults are panicking. And there’s nothing but pandemonium. I come from the Bronx where families often live in fear of bullets, gun violence. But no one in the United States lives in fear of rockets; none of us as Americans worry that Mexico and Canada are going to fire rockets into American homes and communities. And so my first trip to Israel enabled me to realize early on that Israel faces a level of insecurity that has no equivalent in the American experience.

And I tell people, “Look, I’m not going to tell you what to think about Israel. But I will tell you how to think: Before you rush to judge Israel, you should actually go there and speak to both Israelis and Palestinians, speak to both Israeli Jews and Israeli Arabs, you know, go to a place like Sderot and see the facts on the ground with your own eyes. And I guarantee you that if you have an open heart and an open mind, you’re going to adopt a view of Israel that is far more complicated than the cartoonish portrayal that percolates on social media platforms and on college campuses.

Supporting Israel used to be a consensus issue in the United States. Now we see large numbers of the younger generations, especially on the Democratic side, expressing very anti-Israel views, including gleefully calling for the destruction of Israel – that’s becoming more and more commonplace. How in the world did we get here? What is going on? And where are we headed? Will the support for Israel further erode or will it stay on the margins?

There is nothing accidental about anti-Zionism in America. There has been a concerted effort by movements like BDS to indoctrinate the next generation of Americans with a visceral and fanatical hatred for Israel as a Jewish State. And that’s why in the wake of October 7, we saw young Americans cheering and celebrating October 7. We saw young Americans downplaying and denying October 7. But none of that is an accident – it is the consequence, it is the culmination of a long process of dehumanizing both the Jewish community and the Jewish State.

On Christmas this year, anti-Israel vandals attacked your Bronx office with red paint and a bloodied baby doll. How did you deal with the experience, and have you ever been verbally or physically threatened for positions you’ve taken?

There is no issue on which I face more hate, harassment, and death threats than on the subject of Israel. If anything ever happens to me, if I’m ever assassinated, people should assume that it was likely anti-Zionist activists.

There is no issue in national politics that provokes more raw emotion and rage than the subject of Israel, and it’s been consuming for me because I’ve been the target of overwhelming venom and vitriol from the anti-Israel far left. And as you pointed out, there have been anti-Israel activists who have vandalized my office with red paint., claiming that I have blood on my hands. There have been anti-Israel activists who have who have installed posters throughout the New York City subway system, accusing me of bombing hospitals and killing healthcare workers, calling me a genocide enabler.

So I’m facing a level of character assassination that I’ve never seen in my life, and never thought I would ever see.

Do you support to continuous funding from the United States to the PA?

I would support funding for humanitarian assistance, but I strongly oppose funding for UNRWA. And I strongly oppose funding for pay-for-slay.

But perhaps if they could find a more moderate government there then things could change?

There’s been a fundamental failure of Palestinian leadership. Between a terrorist theocracy in the form of Hamas and a kleptocracy in the form of the Palestinian Authority, Palestinians are utterly lacking leadership.

What would you like to see post-war in terms of Israeli government and the government of Gaza?

What I want to see is the de-Hamasification of Gaza, the removal of Hamas from power, the de-radicalization of Palestinian civil society and replacement of Hamas with a regime that’s able and willing to make peace with Israel. If we can find a regime that brokers peace with Israel, it would be a game-changer in the Gaza Strip.

But Israel cannot do it alone. Israel has got be in partnership with the United States and with the Sunni Arab world, particularly Saudi Arabia and the UAE. And so it’s going to have to be a collective effort.

Do you have any moderate names in mind among the Palestinians that could take on that mantle?

As I said, there’s a leadership crisis in the Palestinian national movement. I’m aware of no leader who can rise to the challenge. But I hope that I’m pleasantly surprised.

Yours is a great American success story, one which does not include a college degree. A boy from the projects who built a successful political career. Today, as you know, antisemitism, some of it disguised as anti-Zionism, is raging on college campuses now. And university leaders, as we’ve seen, have been thoroughly derelict. What does this say about the future of university education? Is the academy losing its luster? And what can we expect from Generation Z who are being steeped in this environment when they take the reins tomorrow?

When people ask me why [I am] so pro-Israel, I tell them it’s because I dropped out of college. I did not graduate from Harvard or MIT or UPenn. But I did graduate from the school of moral common sense. I’m a common sense public servant.

You know, the congressional hearing on antisemitism left a profound impression on me. If you had asked the average Bronx resident, “Is calling for a genocide of Jews harassment?,” there’s no doubt in my mind that the average Bronx resident would tell you, “Of course it’s harassment!” But if you ask an academic or an activist is calling for genocide of Jews “harassment,” the response you will get is a coldly legalistic formulaic response. It’s quote, unquote “context dependent.”

And it seems to me that the loss of moral common sense is not a bug but a feature of what higher education has become. There is a deep rot of antisemitism and anti-Zionism at the core of the higher education industrial complex. And history tells us that higher education is often a breeding ground for antisemitism. Germany was the most educated society on Earth in the early 20th century, before committing the Holocaust. And so higher education is no guarantee of virtue.

[newstfionline]

Monday, February 26, 2024

Chief enforcer of US gun laws fears Americans may become numb to violence with each mass shooting (AP) The head of the federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives says he fears that a drumbeat of mass shootings and other gun violence across the United States could make Americans numb to the bloodshed, fostering apathy to finding solutions rather than galvanizing communities to act. Director Steve Dettelbach’s comments to The Associated Press came after he met this past week with family members of some of the 18 people killed in October at a bowling alley and a bar in Lewiston, Maine by a U.S. Army reservist who later took his own life. He said people must not accept that gun violence is a prevalent part of American life. “It seems to me that things that we used to sort of consider memorable, life-altering, shocking events that you might think about and talk about for months or years to come now are happening with seeming frequency that makes it so that we sort of think, “That’s just the one that happened this week,’” he said. “If we come to sort of accept that, that’s a huge hurdle in addressing the problem.”

Smartphones and children (NYT) The evidence that smartphones damage children’s mental health has continued to grow in recent years. Feelings of loneliness and sadness began rising more than a decade ago, around the same time that smartphones and then social media became ubiquitous. The amount of time that teenagers spend socializing in person has declined on the same timeline. So has the number of hours they sleep. Academic research points in a similar direction. Many studies have found a correlation between the amount of time that teens—especially girls—spend on smartphones and the likelihood that they will be depressed or have low self-esteem. There is still much that researchers don’t understand about digital technology, and some smartphone use is clearly necessary and healthy. But the notion that smartphones are beneficial or harmless to mental health on the whole—an argument that technology executives sometimes make—looks much weaker than it once did.

One of the world’s biggest cities may be just months away from running out of water (CNN) Alejandro Gomez has been without proper running water for more than three months. Sometimes it comes on for an hour or two, but only a small trickle, barely enough to fill a couple of buckets. Then nothing for many days. Gomez, who lives in Mexico City’s Tlalpan district, doesn’t have a big storage tank so can’t get water truck deliveries—there’s simply nowhere to store it. Instead, he and his family eke out what they can buy and store. Mexico City, a sprawling metropolis of nearly 22 million people and one of the world’s biggest cities, is facing a severe water crisis as a tangle of problems—including geography, chaotic urban development and leaky infrastructure—are compounded by the impacts of climate change. Years of abnormally low rainfall, longer dry periods and high temperatures have added stress to a water system already straining to cope with increased demand. Politicians are downplaying any sense of crisis, but some experts say the situation has now reached such critical levels that Mexico City could be barreling towards “day zero” in a matter of months—where the taps run dry for huge swaths of the city.

U.S. rice exports to Haiti have unhealthy levels of arsenic, study finds (Reuters) U.S. rice exports to Haiti, which account for the bulk of supplies of the country’s key food staple, contain unhealthy levels of arsenic and cadmium, heavy metals that can increase risks of cancer and heart disease, according to a recent study by the University of Michigan. Haiti is among the United States’ top buyers of rice, alongside Mexico and Japan, and cheap imports are more affordable than local options in the Caribbean nation, the poorest state in the Western Hemisphere. According to the study, average arsenic and cadmium concentrations were nearly twice as high in imported rice compared to Haitian-grown product, with some imported samples exceeding international limits. When researchers ran the study in 2020, they found that Haitians on average consumed 85 kg (187 lb) of rice per year, compared to 12 kg in the U.S., putting especially young Haitians at far greater risk of developing related health complications.

Two years on, Europeans have lost faith in a Ukrainian victory (France Inter) As the war in Ukraine enters its third year, results of a survey suggest that only one European out of ten thinks that Ukraine will come out of this war with a victory. The figure is a terrible message for Ukrainians: only 10% of Europeans think Ukraine can still win the war against Russia. This does not mean that their opinion has shifted in favor of Russia: on the contrary, the majority of the continent still largely support the Ukrainian cause. But the accumulation of bad news for the Kyiv army has had an effect on Europeans. This figure appears in a survey commissioned by the European Council on Foreign Relations, an independent think tank, and was made public on the eve of the second anniversary of the Russian invasion. This war will enter its third year, and public opinion is legitimately questioning a conflict with a heavy cost in human lives, and also a heavy cost in military and financial support. According to the survey, most people in Europe now believe that the war will end with a compromise, albeit one that is still to be defined.

Surging bills, fewer showers: India’s Bengaluru reels under water shortage (Reuters) Bengaluru is facing an acute water shortage this year, months before peak summer, forcing many residents in “India’s Silicon Valley” to ration their water use and pay almost double the usual price to meet their daily needs. Weak southwest monsoon rains have dented groundwater levels and reduced water levels in the Cauvery River basin reservoirs that feed the southern Indian city, which is home to roughly 14 million people and thousands of IT companies and start-ups. That is making residents of the city pay surging prices for water tankers even before the onset of peak summer. And the situation could get worse in the months ahead. “The worry now is that despite paying, the tanker vendors won’t show up due to scarcity of ground water,” said another Bengaluru resident.

As Lebanon teeters on the edge, a war with Israel would be catastrophic (Washington Post) Wages for Lebanon’s soldiers have fallen so low that many now have second jobs driving for Uber or working as parking valets. A GoFundMe campaign has been launched to support the country’s emergency response services. Angry depositors in Beirut have attacked the headquarters of a major bank with fireworks because it wouldn’t release their savings. Even before the Israel-Gaza war, Lebanon was in economic crisis: Since 2019, the country’s gross domestic product has fallen by 50 percent, and poverty now plagues 80 percent of the population. A wider war, long feared amid ongoing skirmishes between Israeli forces and Iranian-backed Hezbollah along Lebanon’s southern border, would be catastrophic. The signs of disintegration are everywhere. The country has been without a president for a year, and a functioning government for almost two, and the currency has lost more than 90 percent of its value since 2019.

U.S. Returns to the Position That New Israeli Settlements Are Illegal (NYT) Secretary of State Antony J. Blinken said on Friday that the American government now considers new Israeli settlements in Palestinian territories to be “inconsistent with international law,” marking a return to a decades-long U.S. position on the contentious subject. Mr. Blinken spoke at a news conference in Buenos Aires, after Israel’s finance minister, Bezalel Smotrich, made an announcement on Thursday indicating thousands of new residences would be added to settlements. Mr. Blinken said he was “disappointed” at the announcement. In Washington, John F. Kirby, a White House spokesman, reiterated that stance in comments to reporters. “This is a position that has been consistent over a range of Republican and Democratic administrations,” he said. Over many years, settlements have proliferated across the West Bank, Palestinian territory that is occupied by Israel, without the United States pushing for any legal action. About 500,000 residents now live in the occupied West Bank and more than 200,000 in East Jerusalem.

Sanitation Crisis in Gaza Spreads Disease (NYT) In a sprawling tent encampment in Gaza, the Israeli bombs fall close enough to hear and feel. But daily life is also a struggle against hunger, cold and a growing sanitation crisis. A lack of sufficient toilets and clean water, as well as open sewage, are problems that displaced Palestinians have struggled with since the early days of Israel’s assault on Gaza. For two months after Salwa al-Masri, 75, and her family fled to the city of Rafah, at the southernmost tip of Gaza, to escape Israel’s military offensive, she said she would walk 200 yards to reach the nearest bathroom. If she was lucky, younger women in line would let her jump ahead. Other times, she might wait up to an hour to use a dirty toilet shared with thousands of other people. Gazans, already facing hunger and thirst as a result of Israel’s more than four-month siege of the territory, say they have tried to cut back on eating and drinking even more to avoid an uncomfortable and unsanitary visit to the toilet.

US, British forces carry out more strikes against Houthis in Yemen (Reuters) U.S. and British forces carried out strikes against more than a dozen Houthi targets in Yemen on Saturday, officials said, the latest round of military action against the Iran-linked group that continues to attack shipping in the region. The United States has carried out near daily strikes against the Houthis, who control the most populous parts of Yemen and have said their attacks on shipping are in solidarity with Palestinians as Israel strikes Gaza. The strikes have so far failed to halt the Houthis’ attacks, which have upset global trade and raised shipping rates.

[cyberxilophone]

Gazelle's Body Double

After the famous pop star, Gazelle, goes missing, it's up to the Zootopia police department to quell the public's panic with a body double... Even if it means that they have to get it by less than legal means.

Nick passed through the massive doors of the Zootopia police precinct. With Judy away on a vacation trip she had been saving for a special moment, the newly appointed police officer was beginning to see the drier parts of his work. Nothing beyond surveying the evidence room and roaming the streets to put tickets on people that really didn’t deserve it, but neglecting his duties had already gotten him many an earful.

There was some comfort when he saw that one of his coworkers seemed to share his gloomy predicament. Clawhauser, usually a bundle of joy that was as sweet as the donuts he was addicted to, looked completely the opposite. His eyes were sunken, lidded eyes with a surrounding 

“What’s the matter, big guy?”

“Aw, Nick…” Clawhauser leaned on the counter. His hand rested on top of his rotund cheek as he wistfully looked at the ceiling, almost as if he wasn’t completely there. “It’s just… Something tragic!”

“Oh, what’s the matter?”

“Haven’t you been checking social media?” Clawhauser’s voice escalated into just a few decibels away from full-on screaming. He slammed his hands on the counter before scrambling to get his phone, then proceeded to shove it into Nick’s face. “Look! It’s a national emergency!”

Nick flinched. He had to readjust his eyes to Clawhauser’s excessive amount of brightness on his phone to read what the article said. 

“Um… are you referring to that article about a soda company changing its logo?”

“Huh? No! Let me just…” Clawhauser scrolled all the way up. “Look!”

“Hm… ‘Gazelle reported missing as she didn’t appear in a recent community event’” Nick’s eyebrows raised slightly. “So our little international star is missing, huh? I guess it was just a matter of time before she got into a scandal.”

“S-Scandal? What if she’s in danger, Nick? Don’t you remember-”

“-Golden hours, yeah. She’s probably safe, though. This thing always happens with celebrities. They get a little wild, be they prey or predators.” Nick chuckled at the thought of Gazelle escaping the paparazzi doing god knows what, although Clawhauser didn’t seem to share the sentiment.  “Aaaaanyways, no need to look so glum. I’ll talk to Bogo about it, since I have a meeting with him.”

“Please do! All the followers on my fan page are as panicked as I am, and I need to be strong for them! TeamGazelle can’t endure so much stress!”

Nick’s expression contorted into something that he couldn’t quite describe. “Uh, sure! I’ll make sure that your… team is safe and sound, no need to worry.” He bid Clawhauser adieu before strutting towards Bogo’s office. 

Nick wasn’t afraid of the boss before being a police officer, and he sure as hell wasn’t afraid now that he had seen the more vulnerable parts of the buffalo. If anything, he was less afraid of the prey now, even with the massive difference in height and strength between the two.

He didn’t bother knocking before coming into Bogo’s office. He heard him huff at the act of irreverence, but Nick didn’t pay it any mind. He comfortably slid into a chair that was far too big for him and crossed his legs. His tail flopped up and down as he eagerly awaited to get this impromptu meeting over with.

Bogo turned off his phone and slid it to the side. His scowl was piercing, far fiercer than whatever a small predator like Nick could even dream of portraying. “So, Wilde. I see that you are still as cheery as ever.”

“Guess I am. Glad to see that our local police chief is still as stern as ever. We need someone to be on the prowl in case someone, I dunno, doesn’t pay up a parking meter or something.”

Bogo closed his eyes, pressed his lips together, and repressed the urge to punch Nick. He had a duty to do, and he couldn’t cause a scandal, lest someone butt in and interfere with the top-secret mission that Lionheart had assigned him and him alone. He tapped his fingers against the glass atop his wooden desk as he recollected his thoughts.

Alright, Bogo. It’s simple. Just be casual and offer it to him. He won’t know what hit him, so you’ll be okay…

“Do you perhaps know about the recent Gazelle case?” Bogo awkwardly coughed. It was clear that it was the farthest possible from being convincing, but the buffalo kept trucking on. “Well, I wouldn’t call it a case, perse. It’s something more akin to a series of allegations, but still worrying nonetheless.”

“Oh my god, you too? I can’t believe this…” Nick couldn’t manage to hide the smile that crept up around his muzzle. Quiet but sharp chuckles escaped the sly fox as he pictured Bogo panicking to the same degree as Clawhauser. “Don’t tell me that we’re launching a full-blown investigation to find her. Come on, she has to be in a random multimillion hotel with her seeeecret lover or something like that.” Nick playfully suggested.

“Of course not, Wilde. Don’t be ridiculous. This is just the result of paranoid paparazzi being forced to put out an article, however…” Bogo turned on a laptop and turned it around for Nick to see the content. “...Look at all these comments. When something like this happens, hysteria inevitably breaks out. If people start panicking, they’re prone to speculating and believing anything they can latch to.”

The humor suddenly faded from the situation for Nick. He straightened himself and crossed his arms. “So the information gets all crossed up and we have to waste time figuring out fact from fiction.”

“Good. At least you know why we’re worried. We haven’t seen anything yet, but we’re anticipating an avalanche of misinformation in a day or two.”

“Well, that’s not good. What are we going to do? Are we going to release a press statement or something like that?”

Bogo shook his head. “No. With Gazelle’s passionate fanbase, they will not be satisfied by such a nonconclusive answer. We have to do something that will satisfy the public’s curiosity.”

“What do you propose then?”

“A body double. A total duplicate that can act on the real Gazelle’s stead while we figure out where in the world she went to.”

Nick’s laughter came back immediately at the sheer absurdity of the suggestion. “Really? A body double of the massively popular pop star? Do you know that people zoom into every single pixel of her body?” The fox shook his head. “It’s not gonna be convincing-”

“Lookalikes are a thing, Wilde. I’m surprised that you’re so pessimistic, considering what a resourceful fox you are.”

“Pfff, tugging at my ego, are you?” Nick rolled his eyes at the poor attempt at flattery. “It’s not like I have any choice, considering that you’re the chief. So, you want me to find a lookalike? I’ll try my best, but don’t expect her to be around the corner.”

Bogo crossed his arms and sported an uncharacteristic smile. “Oh, believe me. There’s gonna be a gazelle stand in nearer than you think. It’s just a matter of looking within yourself to find her.”

“Wow, that’s a bad inspirational speech. You gotta work on that.” Nick turned to the door, but as soon as his paws gripped the doorknob, Bogo shouted.

“Wait! Before you go, I have another thing for you. It is not another assignment, do not worry.”

“Ugh…” With a disgruntled sigh, Nick sat back on the chair with his starting bad posture. “What is it, now? Gonna give me a promotional flyer about how we policemen are the absolute best or something like that?”

Bogo chuckled. “Nothing of the sort. It’s something that I’ve been saving out of my pocket money to give to the newest member of the Zootopia police department.” 

He bent down and picked up something that was resting next to his chair. He placed it on the table with pride; a pink, transparent glass bottle with a pink gold ribbon on the center. There was a fizzy, carbonated liquid of the same color. It looked like champagne, with very slight differences that Nick could only spot thanks to his long experience with trading alcohol with Finnick.

“Oh, well that’s a surprise. Where did you get this beauty? I haven’t seen anything like this… ever, really!”

“It’s a new product. It’s called transformer en fille. Straight up from international markets. It’s a prototype I got through… uh, connections. I can’t say. You know how contracts go.”

“Woooow! Bogo, I didn’t know that you appreciated your workers so much!” Nick teased. He moved the bottle around to inspect it further. Just touching it made him feel poor. 

“It’s perfectly okay. No need to be so modest. I thought that since I’m dropping this mission on you out of a sudden, I could make it up to you with a toast. Think of it as a celebration for five months on the force.”

“Man, you’re gonna give me diabetes with how sweet you’re being, Bogo.” Nick playfully waved at the buffalo. “Man, even risking some punishment by drinking on the job? You’re out of control, chief!”

Bogo murmured something under his breath as he looked away from his target. Pulling two shot glasses out of his desk’s drawer, he moved on without waiting for Nick’s approval. If push came to shove, Bogo could force him to stay, be it with persuasion or by force. 

He popped the cork off without too much struggle and poured the liquid. He struggled slightly to not spill the drink all over his desk, but he managed to keep it mostly dry.

“Well, I’m not someone who can turn down a nice drink. You got me convinced, boss.” Nick took the glass and rose it into the air. “To a successful investigation.”

Bogo chuckled under his breath. “I’m sure that it will be a very successful investigation.”

The two men pressed their glasses together with a satisfying ‘clink’.

Bogo pretended to take a sip while Nick drink to his heart’s delight. He had to be careful that his body didn’t digest the ‘drink’, not even a single drop. His eyes remained glued to Nick’s neck, eyes widening when he saw the fox’s Adam’s apple bob slightly.

Bingo.

“Wow, this is sweet! It feels like I drank liquid cotton candy, chief.” Nick clicked his tongue to relieve himself of the overwhelming sugary afterglow, but it was for naught. “Oof, and it’s very strong as well. I don’t think that even a glass of water is gonna help me with lessening the taste.”

“It’s an… acquired taste for sure, Wilde.” Bogo was counting the seconds in his head. His large, meaty fingers tapped on the glass as his eyes glued themselves to the clock. Each tick of it made another drop of sweat travel down Bogo’s side. “I-I also had something else to tell you, Wilde.”

“I think that we should discuss it at a later hour, boss. I don’t think that I can get your body double by staying inside your office all day.”

“It’s important, Wilde! I will not allow this irreverence-”

“Let the professionals of the streets handle this, alright?” 

Nick stood up and turned around, but instead of strutting out of the office, he suddenly froze. It was like his brain had stopped functioning for a second. His eyes suddenly lost the glow that signalized that he was truly there, turning almost… empty. 

“Wilde?”

“N-ngh…” He suddenly clenched his teeth. Nick’s fangs ground against each other furiously as his fur frazzled out. “W-what is… Grngh… happening…?” His mind raced back and forth, like two opposite ends were pulling his brain in a tug-of-war-esque manner until it would inevitably snap in two.

“Don’t panic, Wilde,” Bogo said in a deadpan tone. “Just stay still for a few minutes and everything will become better.”

“B-Boousgh?” 

Small, electric twitches pulsed through his body. Nick convulsed slightly with each passing, his expression constantly shifting on a rotation of undecipherable emotions that looked simply wrong. Half of his face would be an excessively curved smile and a clenched eye while the other half would leave his mouth open, his tongue hanging out of it.

The drink’s aftertaste only got more unbearable. It was like his saliva had turned into liquid sugar. It slowly trailed down his neck and to the top of his uniform. His fingers jerked around as his arms remained paralyzed.

“Breathe in and out, Wilde. It’ll help you remain stable.”

Bogo didn’t know if Nick nodded or if his convulsions had gotten more intense. He constantly played out the rundown of how the procedure would go down that Lionheart had given him earlier that day. 

Nick’s chest began to heat up. It was like a slowly hearing iron had been pressed against his chest. Whatever functional parts of his brain screamed at him to try and take off the uniform or do something about it, but the commands would simply scramble into gibberish that would do nothing but increase the head-splitting pain in his brain.

“G-gah… Guh…”

From the outside of his chest feeling as if it was being scorched, the inside began to stretch. Nick wasn’t imagining it, he was sure of it. He moaned as his muscles pulsed with electricity, each beat causing them to grow. 

His chest’s muscle mass expanded outwards. His previously flat pectorals began to slowly expand, gaining a doughy, soft complexion. They pressed against his uniform, stretching the fabric to a degree that it was clearly not designed for. 

His shirt slowly fell victim to his soft, broadening breasts. The buttons sewn into the clothing slowly began to come undone as they were forced to contain a pair of growing breasts.

Gaps between the buttons began to form, revealing the light orange fur underneath. As Nick’s torso began to squash and stretch, his shirt suffered under the constant shift in size. It slowly but surely went from looking from the dignified uniform to a crop top that did a poor job at hiding his taller and more importantly, feminine figure.

“W-wha…”

Nick’s eyes darted back and forth around the room, trying to make sense of whatever the hell was happening. He was compelled to touch and inspect his soft, tender breasts, but the paralysis from the neck down still remained. All he could do was stare in awe at it.

Just like the rest of his body, his cheeks were burning up vigorously. He kept looking at his newly acquired ‘assets’. His mind kept trying to catch up with the discrepancy of his changing body. His tiny legs were supporting the body of a woman, with features as voluptuous as the one of a model. 

His back suddenly felt tense as if needed to carry the sudden new weight that had been plopped on him. It was like weights attached to his nipples had been permanently sewn onto him. Each twitch that his body did only causing them to jiggle with the complexion of jelly, the movement alone causing Nick to gasp and inhale sharply to suppress the sudden arousal.

Bogo knew that Nick wasn’t done. Far from it. He adverted his gaze from Fox’s now feminine and tall chest to the limbs that were connected to it.

His arms suddenly became loose and limp after a sudden spasm. They hung from his body as if they weren’t even connected to his torso properly. Nick’s previously short and petite arms began to contort, moving back and forth until they began to stretch outwards as if they were made of rubber.

With a satisfying snap, Nick’s arms snapped into their new place. Nick’s posture couldn’t handle the constant change and suddenly turned excessively crooked. The fox’s arms reached all the way down to the area of his legs below his knees. 

However, the disparity would not remain for long. The same scalding sensation began to manifest in his legs. Nick desperately tried to use his constantly twitching fingers to soothe the intense sting of his body’s growth, but he was far too powerless to do anything about it.

His entire body suddenly skyrocketed as his legs stretched upwards. For a few seconds, his newly granted height caused his legs to wobble at the sudden increase of weight that his feet were forced to accommodate. His pants now only reached above his knees, the fabric skin tight.

The situation only worsened once he felt the same sensation that his pectorals experienced earlier, only that this time that same burning sensation spread all over his thighs. It was like a wildfire caused by gasoline; nothing could stop it. Nick’s thighs expanded outwards. His legs, thin and lacking in meat, had now become excessively plump. 

His pants barely managed to hold on, now having risen up even further. A single millimeter further and the jeans’ behind would’ve been torn to shred and revealed a pair of equally torn undies, a perfect show of his now blubbery ass 

It was like the sensation of having a fever had spread throughout his entire body. While it was unbearably painful, the warmth that it brought was almost infectious. Each second that he spent begging for it to stop, Nick spent two seconds begging to experience this sensation. Swirling combat between panic and embracing this chaos ran rampant.

It was almost like the sensation of just having just finished a workout. His entire body had turned stiff and sore in a matter of seconds, but with the pleasure that came with it being stronger in tenfolds.

“W-woah, uh… Waahh…” 

His entire body continued to vibrate with the intensity of someone having a seizure. He looked at Bogo, whose stare was vacant and unflinching. Nothing short of utter nonsense left Nick’s mouth as he attempted to communicate his distress amidst the warm and almost erotic sensation of his body changing so rapidly.

“M-my body-”

“Give it a rest, Wilde.”

Nick was about to protest, but then he felt his tongue suffer the same kind of paralysis. His mouth felt like it was on fire as the area surrounding it began to stretch forward and compact itself to the sides. 

Then, his breathing came to a sudden halt. It was just like being choked. His neck compressed itself into a thinner, slimmer version of itself. His head was pushed upwards and the world only got harder to comprehend. With all his life spent under four feet, the sudden shoot of height had left him disoriented. It was like being on stilts that had been permanently glued to his feet.

“G-guuhaw?! GRK!” 

Nick could feel the seconds ticking away. His head spun as the mix of whatever was happening to him and the lack of oxygen destroyed whatever sense of balance he had. He fell to the ground as he put his hands around his throat in an attempt to do something about his current predicament.

Everything became blurry. His usually carnivorous strength had left him a long time ago. Right now, he was helpless to whatever was happening right now. Everything was incomprehensible. Nothing made sense.

A few minutes ago, he was a male fox that was ready to serve his duty to the force. Now, he was an animal with the body of a woman. He had breasts that just ached to be touched and thighs that demanded to be gripped by the hands of someone stronger than him.

“Mmmmhp! A-ah, ah…”

“Just wait, miss. Give it five more seconds.”

Pushing through the need to curse out Bogo and claw his smug and collected face and followed the cold buffalo’s advice.

One… Two… Three… Four…

“-Five!” 

Nick placed his hands over his mouth as he realized that the sound that he had just heard had come out of his mouth. It wasn’t his suave, charismatic voice. Not even close, but it was still familiar. He had heard that tone that carried both confidence and sensuality. The voice of a seductress pop star that had captured the hearts of many all across the world.

“W-what? But… I’m not…” 

Nick panicked and turned to the window. His reflection showed that his vibrant orange fur was slowly beginning to transition into that recognizable cream color. It started at the bottom of his feet, which he only now noticed had been replaced with hooves that looked squeaky clean.

The cream color continued to creep upwards, consuming all the original color of his fur. Once the color reached his thigh, it made quick work of his tail. The muscle twisted itself repeatedly, causing Nick to shriek. It spun on itself as the fox winced in agony. That same fiery, acute sensation persisted until it had been spun so much that it had reached the size of his fist.

Then, his muscles morphed into that same size. It was like the muscle had melted in on itself and then restructured again with that form as the new permanent state. The bushy, petite tail had been colored in accordance with the rest of his body.

“B-Bogo! Stop this right now, I mean it!”

“I’m sorry, Wilde. Mayor’s order. It’s just to prevent panic. We promise.” 

“Oh, you’re being ridiculous! I need to…” 

Nick knew what he was about to say, but when the time came for him to speak, it was like the memories just vanished into thin air. What was he doing to do after he left? He gripped his head in an attempt to force the answer to come back, but it was to no avail. It was like after those five seconds, everything about him had just… stopped existing.

Bogo stood up. That same uncharacteristic, foreign smile that stretched from ear to ear was painted on his face as he approached the transformed police officer. His hands were clasped together, and his posture had gone from stiff to relaxed in the blink of an eye.

“I’m sure that you were going to explain why you missed that important event, Miss Gazelle,” Bogo explained. “After all, your fans are all very worried about your unexplained absence. Would you be so kind to follow me to the TV station?”

“G-Gazelle?! I’m not Gazelle!” Nick’s feminine voice screeched. He pushed the sudden tuff of hair that had grown out of his forehead away from his view and stomped towards Bogo. “I’m-”

“Gazelle. The famous pop star and dancer, as we have established.”

“I.” He poked Bogo’s chest with her brand-new hooves. “AM.” He poked again, this time harder. “NOT.” Nick made sure that it was enough to drive the point home. This was over, it needed to be over. “GAZELLE!”

“Then who are you, miss? Because you look like Miss Gazelle to me.” 

Bogo brought his hand to Nick’s shoulders. His digits were so large that they went almost all the way to Nick’s shoulders. He forcefully turned him around so that he would be forced to gaze fully at his reflection in the window. Nick tried to break free and look away, but Bogo remedied that by holding Nick’s head with both of his hands, making sure to apply pressure even if it came at the cost of his victim starting to engage in a screaming fit.

“You. Are. Gazelle.”

“No, I’m-”

“You are a pop star that is on her way to the TV station to make a statement.” Bogo made sure that his words were slow but methodical. It was so that they would drill themselves into Nick’s brain. “You are a wonderful woman.”

“I’m a… woman…?”

“Yes, yes… You are famous, and you love the attention that men will give you.” Bogo’s left hand moved to caress Nick’s breasts. He made sure to be gentle with him, let him soak in the bliss and pleasure of his new body. “This… is your new life. Your dancers have missed you as well! They miss running their big, muscular bodies against your own, Miss Gazelle…”

“Mpphm!” 

Nick moaned, fake memories beginning to form inside him. The process was like a snowball that increased in potency the more time passed. With each second, entire years’ worth of memories began to fill his mind, and in turn, whatever remained of the fox was totally erased and assimilated into the Gazelle persona.

“Yeah, maybe… Maybe I need to give my fans a show~” Gazelle posed to accentuate her figure.

Bogo smiled.

[dirtyriver]

From George to his fans, friends and extended family, please read below. This page will serve as a place to connect with George as well as receive updates. Please, respect the privacy of George and his family at this difficult time and reach out ONLY through this avenue. Thank you and please see below:

To all my fans, friends and extended family,

It's rather hard to believe that it's been almost three years since I formally announced my retirement from producing comics due to my failing vision and other infirmities brought on primarily by my diabetes. At the time I was flattered and humbled by the number of tributes and testimonials given me by my fans and peers. The kind words spoken on those occasions were so heartwarming that I used to quip that "the only thing missing from those events was me lying in a box."

It was amusing at the time, I thought.

Now, not so much. On November 29th I received confirmation that, after undergoing surgery for a blockage in my liver, I have Stage 3 Pancreatic Cancer. It is surgically inoperable and my estimated life expectancy is between 6 months to a year. I have been given the option of chemotherapy and/or radiation therapy, but after weighing all the variables and assessing just how much of my remaining days would be eaten up by doctor visits, treatments, hospital stays and dealing with the often stressful and frustrating bureaucracy of the medical system, I've opted to just let nature take its course and I will enjoy whatever time I have left as fully as possible with my beautiful wife of over 40 years, my family, friends and my fans.

Since I received my diagnosis and prognosis, those in my inner circle have given me so much love, support and help, both practical and emotional. They've given me peace.

There will be some business matters to take care of before I go. I am already arranging with my art agent to refund the money paid for sketches that I can no longer finish. And, since, despite only having one working eye, I can still sign my name, I hope to coordinate one last mass book signing to help make my passing a bit easier. I also hope that I will be able to make one last public appearance wherein I can be photographed with as many of my fans as possible, with the proviso that I get to hug each and every one of them. I just want to be able to say goodbye with smiles as well as tears.

I know that many of you will have questions to ask or comments to make, and rather than fueling the fires of speculation and well-meaning but potentially harmful miscommunication, I will be returning to the arena of social media by starting a new Facebook account where fans and friends can communicate with me or my designated rep directly for updates and clarification.

For media and press inquiries, please use the contact information on the page as well. Please respect the privacy of my wife and family at this time and use the Facebook page rather than reaching out through other channels.

I may not be able to respond as quickly as I would like since I will be endeavoring to get as much outside pleasure as I can in the time allotted me, but I will do my best. Kind words would also be greatly appreciated. More details to follow once it's up and running.

Well, that's it for now. This is not a message I enjoyed writing, especially during the Holiday Season, but, oddly enough, I'm feeling the Christmas spirit more now than I have in many years. Maybe it's because it will likely be my last. Or maybe because I am enveloped in the loving arms of so many who love me as much as I love them. It's quite uplifting to be told that you've led a good life, that you've brought joy to so many lives and that you'll be leaving this world a better place because you were part of it. To paraphrase Lou Gehrig: "Some people may think I got a bad break, but today, I feel like the luckiest man on the face of the Earth."

Take care of yourselves—and thank you.

George Pérez

December 7th, 2021

[dd-the-man-without-fear]

From George Pérez posted his announcement on his Facebook page:

To all my fans, friends and extended family,

It’s rather hard to believe that it’s been almost three years since I formally announced my retirement from producing comics due to my failing vision and other infirmities brought on primarily by my diabetes. At the time I was flattered and humbled by the number of tributes and testimonials given me by my fans and peers. The kind words spoken on those occasions were so heartwarming that I used to quip that “the only thing missing from those events was me lying in a box.”

It was amusing at the time, I thought.

Now, not so much. On November 29th I received confirmation that, after undergoing surgery for a blockage in my liver, I have Stage 3 Pancreatic Cancer. It is surgically inoperable and my estimated life expectancy is between 6 months to a year. I have been given the option of chemotherapy and/or radiation therapy, but after weighing all the variables and assessing just how much of my remaining days would be eaten up by doctor visits, treatments, hospital stays and dealing with the often stressful and frustrating bureaucracy of the medical system, I’ve opted to just let nature take its course and I will enjoy whatever time I have left as fully as possible with my beautiful wife of over 40 years, my family, friends and my fans.

Since I received my diagnosis and prognosis, those in my inner circle have given me so much love, support and help, both practical and emotional. They’ve given me peace.

There will be some business matters to take care of before I go. I am already arranging with my art agent to refund the money paid for sketches that I can no longer finish. And, since, despite only having one working eye, I can still sign my name, I hope to coordinate one last mass book signing to help make my passing a bit easier. I also hope that I will be able to make one last public appearance wherein I can be photographed with as many of my fans as possible, with the proviso that I get to hug each and every one of them. I just want to be able to say goodbye with smiles as well as tears.

I know that many of you will have questions to ask or comments to make, and rather than fueling the fires of speculation and well-meaning but potentially harmful miscommunication, I will be returning to the arena of social media by starting a new Facebook account where fans and friends can communicate with me or my designated rep directly for updates and clarification.

Please search for @TheGeorgePerez on Facebook if you’d like to join the page to receive updates. For media and press inquiries, please use the contact information on the page as well. Please respect the privacy of my wife and family at this time and use the Facebook page rather than reaching out through other channels.

I may not be able to respond as quickly as I would like since I will be endeavoring to get as much outside pleasure as I can in the time allotted me, but I will do my best. Kind words would also be greatly appreciated. More details to follow once it’s up and running.

Well, that’s it for now. This is not a message I enjoyed writing, especially during the Holiday Season, but, oddly enough, I’m feeling the Christmas spirit more now than I have in many years. Maybe it’s because it will likely be my last. Or maybe because I am enveloped in the loving arms of so many who love me as much as I love them. It’s quite uplifting to be told that you’ve led a good life, that you’ve brought joy to so many lives and that you’ll be leaving this world a better place because you were part of it. To paraphrase Lou Gehrig: “Some people may think I got a bad break, but today, I feel like the luckiest man on the face of the Earth.”

Take care of yourselves—and thank you.

George Pérez

December 7th, 2021

UPDATE: George wanted to say thank everyone for supported him and wish him well.

[star-anise]

Ok, I'll bite. What *is* the difference between Bridgerton and Jane Austen in relationship to their skirts?

Oh! Not in their costuming, just in their general *waves hands* everything. It's a comment I see a lot about Bridgerton: "Well, it's not much like Austen, is it?"

That's because there are 200 years of literary history between the two, and they have not been empty!

This ended up being 1.5k words, but when I put stuff under a readmore, people don't actually read it and then just yell at me because of a misread of the 1/10th of the post they did read. Press j to skip or get ready to do a lot of scrolling (It takes four generous flicks to get past on my iPhone).

First I'll say my perspective on this is hugely shaped by Sherwood Smith, who has done a lot of research on silver fork novels and the way the Regency has been remembered in the romance genre.

The Regency and Napoleonic eras stretch from basically the 1790s to 1820, and after that, it was hard to ignore the amount of social change happening in Britain and Europe. The real watershed moment is the 1819 Peterloo Massacre, where 60,000 working-class people protesting for political change were attacked by a militia. The issues of poverty, class, industrialization, and social change are inescapable, and we end up with things like the 1832 Reform Act and 1834 Poor Law.

This is why later novelists, like Charles Dickens and Elizabeth Gaskell, are so concerned with the experiences of the urban poor. Gaskell's North and South has been accurately described as "Pride and Prejudice for socialists."

So almost as soon as it ended, people started to look back and mythologize the Regency as a halcyon era, back when rich people could just live their rich lives and fret about "only" having three hundred pounds a year to live on. Back when London society was the domain of hereditary landowners, when you weren't constantly meeting with jumped-up industrialists and colonials.

Jane Austen is kind of perfect for this because she comes at the very end of the long eighteenth century, and her novels show hints of the tremors that are about to completely reshape England, but still comfortably sit in the old world. ("The Musgroves, like their houses, were in a state of alteration, perhaps of improvement. The father and mother were in the old English style, and the young people in the new. Mr and Mrs Musgrove were a very good sort of people; friendly and hospitable, not much educated, and not at all elegant. Their children had more modern minds and manners.")

Sherwood Smith covers the writers who birthed the Silver Fork genre in detail, but there's one name that stands out in its history more than any other: Georgette Heyer.

Georgette Heyer basically single-handedly established the Regency Romance as we know it today. Between 1935 and 1972, she published 26 novels set in a meticulously researched version of London of the late 18th and early 19th century. She took Silver Fork settings and characters and turned them into a highly recognizable set of tropes, conventions, and types. (As Sherwood points out, her fictional Regency England isn't actually very similar to the period as it really happened; it's like Arthurian Camelot, a mythical confection with a dash of truth for zest.)

Regency Romance is an escapist genre in which a happy, prosperous married life is an attainable prize that will solve everything for you. Georgette Heyer's novels are bright, sparkling, delightful romps through a beautiful and exotic world. Her female characters have spirit and vivacity, and are allowed to have flaws and make mistakes without being puritanically punished for them. Her romances have real unique sparks to them. She's able to write a formula over and over without it becoming dull.

And.... well. The essay that introduced me to Heyer still, in my opinion, says it best:

Here's the thing about Georgette Heyer: she hates you. Or, okay, she doesn't hate you, exactly. It's just that unless you are white, English, and upper class (and hale, and hearty, and straight, and and and), she thinks you are a lesser being. [...W]ith Heyer, I knew where I stood: somewhere way below the bottom rung of humanity. Along with everyone else in the world except Prince William and four of his friends from Eton, which really took away the sting. But my point is: if you are not that white British upper-class person of good stock and hearty bluffness and a large country estate, the only question for you is which book will contain a grimly bigoted caricature of you featuring every single stereotyped trait ever associated with your particular group. (You have to decide for yourself if really wonderful female characters and great writing are worth the rest of it.)

So Heyer created the genre, but she exacerbated the flaw that was always at the heart of fiction about the Regency, was that its appeal was not having to deal with the inherent rot of the British aristocracy. I think part of why it's such a popular genre in North America specifically is that we often don't know much British history, so we can focus more on the perfume and less on the dank odor it's hiding.

And like, escapism is not a bad thing. Romance writers as a community have sat down and said: We are an escapist genre. The Romance Writers of America, one of the biggest author associations out there, back when they were good, have foundationally said: "Two basic elements comprise every romance novel: a central love story and an emotionally satisfying and optimistic ending." A strong part of the community argue that publishing in the genre is a "contract" between author and reader: If it's marketed as a romance book, there's a Happily Ever After. If there's no Happily Ever After, it's not romance.

It's important for people to be able to take a break from the stresses of their lives and do things that are enjoyable. But the big question the romance genre in particular has to deal with is, who should be allowed to escape? Is it really "escapist" if only white, straight, upper class, able-bodied thin cis people get to escape into it? In historical romance, this is especially an issue for POC and LGBTQ+ people. It's taken a lot of work, in a genre dominated by the Georgette Heyers of the world, to try to hew out the space for optimistic romances for people of colour or LGBTQ+ people. These are minority groups that deal with a literally damaging amount of stress in real lives; they are in especial need of sources of comfort, refuge, community, and encouragement. For brief introductions to the issue, I can give you Talia Hibbert on race, and KJ Charles on LGBTQ+ issues.

Up until the 1990s, the romance genre evolved slowly. It did evolve; Sarah Wendell and Candy Tan's Beyond Heaving Bosoms charts the demise of the "bodice-ripper" genre as it became more acceptable for women to have and enjoy sex. The historical romance genre became more accommodating to non-aristocratic heroines, or ones that weren't thin or conventionally pretty. The first Bridgerton book, The Duke and I, was published in 2000, and has that kind of vibe: Its characters are all white but not all of them are aristocrats, its heroines are frequently not conventionally beautiful and occasionally plump, and its cultivation to modern sensibility is reflected in its titles, which reference popular media of today.

This is just my impression, but I think that while traditional mainstream publishing was beginning to diversify in the 1990s, the Internet was what really made diverse romance take off. Readers, reviewers, and authors could talk more freely on the internet, which allowed books to become unlikely successes even if their publishers didn't promote them very much. Then e-publishing meant that authors could market directly to their readers without the filter of a publishing house, and things exploded. Indie ebooks proved that there was a huge untapped market.

One of my favourite books, Zen Cho's Sorcerer to the Crown, is an example of what historical romance is like today; it's a direct callback and reclamation of Georgette Heyer, with a dash of "Fuck you and all your prejudices" on top of it. It fearlessly weaves magic into a classic Heyer plot, maintaining the essential structure while putting power into the hands of people of colour and non-Western cultures, enjoying the delights of London society while pointing out and dodging around the rot. It doesn't erase the ugliness, but imagines a Britain that is made better because its poor, its immigrants, its people of colour, and the foreign countries it interacts with have more power to make their voices heard and to enforce their wills. Another book I've loved that does the same thing is Courtney Milan's The Duke Who Didn't.

So then... Bridgerton the TV show is trying to take a book series with a very middle-of-the-road approach to diversity, differing from Heyer but not really critiquing her, and giving it a facelift to bring it up to date.

So to be honest, although it's set in the same time period as Austen, it's not in the least her literary successor. It's infinitely more "about" the past 30 years of conversation and art in the romance genre than it is about books written 200 years ago.

[donnatroyprincessofthemyscira]

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE :

To all my fans, friends and extended family,

It’s rather hard to believe that it’s been almost three years since I formally announced my retirement from producing comics due to my failing vision and other infirmities brought on primarily by my diabetes. At the time I was flattered and humbled by the number of tributes and testimonials given me by my fans and peers. The kind words spoken on those occasions were so heartwarming that I used to quip that “the only thing missing from those events was me lying in a box.”

It was amusing at the time, I thought.

Now, not so much. On November 29th I received confirmation that, after undergoing surgery for a blockage in my liver, I have Stage 3 Pancreatic Cancer. It is surgically inoperable and my estimated life expectancy is between 6 months to a year. I have been given the option of chemotherapy and/or radiation therapy, but after weighing all the variables and assessing just how much of my remaining days would be eaten up by doctor visits, treatments, hospital stays and dealing with the often stressful and frustrating bureaucracy of the medical system, I’ve opted to just let nature take its course and I will enjoy whatever time I have left as fully as possible with my beautiful wife of over 40 years, my family, friends and my fans.

Since I received my diagnosis and prognosis, those in my inner circle have given me so much love, support and help, both practical and emotional. They’ve given me peace.

There will be some business matters to take care of before I go. I am already arranging with my art agent to refund the money paid for sketches that I can no longer finish. And, since, despite only having one working eye, I can still sign my name, I hope to coordinate one last mass book signing to help make my passing a bit easier. I also hope that I will be able to make one last public appearance wherein I can be photographed with as many of my fans as possible, with the proviso that I get to hug each and every one of them. I just want to be able to say goodbye with smiles as well as tears.

I know that many of you will have questions to ask or comments to make, and rather than fueling the fires of speculation and well-meaning but potentially harmful miscommunication, I will be returning to the arena of social media by starting a new Facebook account where fans and friends can communicate with me or my designated rep directly for updates and clarification.

Please search for @TheGeorgePerez on Facebook if you’d like to join the page to receive updates. For media and press inquiries, please use the contact information on the page as well. Please respect the privacy of my wife and family at this time and use the Facebook page rather than reaching out through other channels.

I may not be able to respond as quickly as I would like since I will be endeavoring to get as much outside pleasure as I can in the time allotted me, but I will do my best. Kind words would also be greatly appreciated. More details to follow once it’s up and running.

Well, that’s it for now. This is not a message I enjoyed writing, especially during the Holiday Season, but, oddly enough, I’m feeling the Christmas spirit more now than I have in many years. Maybe it’s because it will likely be my last. Or maybe because I am enveloped in the loving arms of so many who love me as much as I love them. It’s quite uplifting to be told that you’ve led a good life, that you’ve brought joy to so many lives and that you’ll be leaving this world a better place because you were part of it. To paraphrase Lou Gehrig: “Some people may think I got a bad break, but today, I feel like the luckiest man on the face of the Earth.”

Take care of yourselves—and thank you.

George Pérez

December 7th, 2021

[littlemisslipbalm]

“harry’s stylist, right?” part II

Harry and his stylist go from colleagues to friends to lovers because they’ve been in love with each other from the jump

this gif bc i couldn’t fine the fit i wanted to showcase, but that night him and y/n get closer than they had gotten before :))

and we’re back :) - this is the last part of this i may do some little blurbs and stuff about these two if people want it (maybe) i hope you all enjoy this part, it’s not proofread so sorry about that lol. Feedback and reblogs are so very very appreciated, also feel free to message me about you’re feelings about this

Word Count: just over 10k | Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, implication of smut, i think that’s it

part 1

-

After the call with Jeff, which wasn’t really a conversation at all, moreso a berating from him, she was in the worst mood. She shrugged off the Bode jacket and hung it up in her entryway closet. She wasn’t planning on wearing it ever again. Without the jacket on, her shirt that seemed to be exactly on the nose with it’s “we’re in the shit” graphic was clear and she untucked it from her light mint pants. She was exhausted, both physically and mentally. Instead of picking her phone up again, she decided she could do without communication for a while. Her feet padded to her bedroom, after removing her nikes and socks. In her bedroom she opened up her record player, wanting music, but not wanting to be bothered with her laptop since it had a connection to the internet. 

She grabbed her Electric Warrior by T. Rex and slipped out the first record from its sheath. As she set up the music, she couldn’t remember where she’d even gotten the record but for some reason it had called to. She skipped over Mambo Sun, the first track, though, and had it play Cosmic Dancer first. It was calming to her, she swayed a bit to the soothing beat and then climbed into her bed. Staring at the ceiling, she wondered about when her life had gotten so complicated. The rhythm in the music and the exhausting thought material lulled her to sleep as the afternoon sun washed her room a perfect golden from behind her shade.

When she woke up again, it was midnight and she was starving. The record had stopped spinning hours ago, she hadn’t even gotten through side A. It was forgotten as she made her way to her kitchen, groggily.

After settling on cereal and an alcoholic seltzer for dinner, she was really in the mood to treat herself, she made her way back to her living space. On the couch, she tucked her legs beneath herself and spooned the sugary food into her mouth. She had only soy milk in the place because she didn’t like cow’s milk and it didn’t keep when she was gone for extended periods of time. Then as she sipped from the black cherry White Claw, she dug her hand into the cushion next to her. Her hand reemerged with her discarded phone from earlier. She decided it was reasonable to go on it now.

More messages from various people in her life and hundreds of social media notifications. She was going to ignore social media for as long as she possibly could. Four missed calls. 2 voicemails. Styles Harry. Why she kept contacts backwards in her phone was unimportant, it’s just what she did.  

She sighed and took a bigger sip of the barely alcoholic drink. Then clicked the voicemail notifications and pressed the first one on speaker as she began to read his texts as well. Then the next voicemail. She checked the time in California, it was still a reasonable part of the day there so instead of texting back she rang him.

“Hello?”

“Har- H. Hi.”

“Y/N! Are you alright?” The concern apparent in his tone. She was taken aback. He hadn’t necessarily sounded angry in his texts or voicemails, but she just assumed he was being courteous since it was a live conversation.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“No! Why would I be?”

“Because I just had my ass handed to me by Jeff earlier.” She slightly mumbled and shrugged, still upset with how she had been spoken to by Jeff.

“Oh gosh, I told him not to be harsh. It’s honestly not a big deal. I thought it was fine, you texted me too!”

“Yeah, well apparently wearing your clothes means we’re dating and that’s not cool in the world’s eyes,” you scoff.

“I know how much you like that coat...I thought you looked great in it, too.” He finishes in a slight whisper, not wanting to be overheard.

“Harry…” you can’t keep the smile off your face. It was a cute compliment even if the situation wasn’t ideal. “Why do your fans have to be so smart and know there’s only two of those coats in the world and I don’t own the other one.”

He laughs, blushing at how you said his name. This time not using his nickname didn’t bother him, it felt even more intimate somehow.

He rubs a hand through his hair, “I know, pesky little devils, gotta love’em, though”

She hums, not sure if she can agree about loving them right now since they’re probably eating her alive all over social media.

“So you’re alright, darling?” He asks again.

“Mhmm,” she pauses at the pet name, it was soothing right now. All she wanted was to curl into his chest, but he was half a world away, quite literally. His words would have to do in his absence. “I’m really glad you’re not mad at me, H. That would’ve made this a hundred times worse.”

He huffs, wishing he could be with her to comfort her. He hated this part of his life. A friend couldn’t borrow a piece of his clothing without everyone assuming that they were seeing each other. It was disgusting and it made him dislike tabloids and social media even more than he already did.

“Trust me. I’d never be mad at you, pet. And I’d definitely never be mad at you for looking good as fuck in my clothes.”

“Shut up!” She squeals, his tone turning from earnest to teasing in one breath. He cackles on the other end of the line because despite her mean words, he could hear the smile on her lips.

“When are you flying back to London?” Her voice grows quiet again after she takes another sip of her drink.

“Thursday,” he almost whispers back, having contained his mirth again.

“We have some work to do on your Graham Norton and Jingle Bell Ball outfits. The listening party ones are all picked up -”

“Y/N,” Harry cuts her off, “It’s late for you, go to bed. Try not to stress out too much, we’ll talk when I’m back about work. For now, take a few days off to not think about my clothes.”

She sighs, “Thanks, H. You’re right. Have a good rest of your day.”

“Goodnight, m’love.”

She ends the phone call and chalks the almost ‘my’ sounding syllable that she heard before love was just her tired mind and Harry’s mumbling voice. It most certainly wasn’t.

-

After a restful few days of doing absolutely nothing, something rare for Y/N, she was extremely well rested. So much so that she was peacefully asleep when Harry let himself into her flat since they had agreed to meet at her place when he got back to London. As much as he wanted her to take time off and not over work herself, his schedule was a busy one and now that he was back, they had work to do.

Inside her flat, he was greeted with silence. He made his way to her bedroom at the back of the flat. He’d been here a handful of times. She always told him she preferred to spread out when she worked and Harry’s was the place for that. The door to the bedroom was slightly ajar and he pushed it open slowly with his ring clad hand. His black nails are freshly painted and shiny, no chips. Still in her bed, Y/N shifted around softly. He smiled to himself, taking in how the room smelled over lavender and how she had pink floral sheets. He walked to the window and raised the shade, hoping to have her wake up without and coaxing from him.

“H,” her voice mumbles into her pillow and he thinks she’s woken up. His face turns to look at her, but her eyes are still closed and she looks completely asleep. He wonders if she’s trying to trick him, but then she mumbles again.

“Mhhh, tha’ tickles,” and she giggles. He kind of grimaces, feeling like he shouldn’t be hearing this. He hadn’t known she spoke in her sleep, it was sweet, but with the context right now, he thought him having this knowledge might not sit well with her.

“Y/N,” he says loudly, before clearing his throat. Her eyes shoot wide and she sits up, dropping the sheet she had been snuggling.

“Harry! Oh my god!”

“Meeting, remember?”

“Oh my god,” she glances around her surroundings, Harry still standing at her window. “What time is it?”

“1 pm. We said 1 right?”

“We did, I just...I don’t know what happened. Sorry, give me a second. I’m out of it.”

When she emerged from her room, dressed and ready for the day, Harry had brewed a pot of coffee with her machine that she really only had for guests.

“Sorry again,” she sits at her countertop, searching for her notebook in her bag.

“No worries,” then he leans across the countertop, “Seemed like you were in the middle of a nice dream.”

His brows are raised as she avoids his gaze. She flushes easily, “I- it was...just one of those usual dreams.”

“You have dreams about me often?”

“I didn’t say that!” Her eyes shoot up to meet his and he grins. He takes a sip of his coffee before speaking again.

“I heard you say ‘H’.”

She rolls her eyes, “That proves nothing.”

They both stare at each other for a minute, not talking or moving. Harry is simply grinning at her as she twitches her hand with her pen in it now. Her eyes are trying to figure out what Harry’s getting at, searching his expression for how he feels about knowing she dreams of him. She certainly wasn’t going to get into it with him, even if he did continue prodding.

“Alright,” she begins when he doesn’t seem to want to press it further. “Oh!” She jumps up, dropping her pen and forgetting about whatever else she was going to say. “Your jacket! And shirt! I cleaned the shirt and the jacket…” She runs out of the room to go to her front closet where she had hung up both the jacket and the shirt.

Returning, she holds them out to Harry and he rounds the countertop to look at them.

“Perfect shape,” he admires the spotless shirt and his beloved jacket. He puts them on the back of the chair that was next to them. “Won’t forget my jacket again.”

She smiles sheepishly, thinking back to Jeff’s conversation with her. Harry notices her change in demeanor and takes one of her hands. Her eyes flash up to his face and her body tenses, he feels it even in her hand.

“Have you gone on any social media since you’ve been home?” His eyes are wide as he runs his thumb over the back of her hand.

She softens slightly, “Oh yeah, after the first day I decided to check. Most were funny and sweet, their nasty comments didn't get to me.”

Her eyes are big on her face and Harry watches as her worries and concerns all wash through the swirling colors in them. He wants to take all of that pain away and just stare into her abyss forever.

“What did Jeff say exactly?” He knows that’s what she’s alluding to. Harry loved his manager, but when he had called him about the jacket incident he had been pretty short with Harry and hadn’t given much information on his chat with Y/N. The way she looked right now bothered him because ultimately Harry was in charge of Y/N in his employment of her and if Jeff had acted like her superior in a way that was harmful he’d be downright upset.

Her eyes grow glassy immediately and Harry’s anger begins to bubble in the pit of his stomach. She tries to blink anything away, but fails.

“I don’t know why I’m crying, it wasn’t terrible. It’s just, all my life, I’ve had to work to be taken seriously because of who I am and I hate when I get talked down to by a man. Especially over a stupid fucking publicity thing for you. Like I’m sorry, but I don’t see you as a public figure where I have to worry about every goddamn thing I do messing up your image.” She pauses, taking a deep breath, realizing she’d gotten really worked up as she spoke. The tears running down her face more in anger than sadness. Harry watches on, letting her work through her thought process. “He was just so mean… for what?” She whispers finally.

“Oh god…darling,” Harry grips her hand more firmly. He wants to take her in his arms, but he’s not sure if that’s what’s best for her right now, so he just keeps holding her hand. She stares up at him, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. Her eyes now tinted a light red.

“I’m sorry he spoke to you in that way. That isn’t his job at all, I’ll definitely talk to him since I didn’t have the full story before. He gets very worried about the media perception thing, especially right now with the album.”  

She bites the inside of her cheek, blinking up at Harry. “I know your image is important, too, otherwise why the fuck would I be here? Right? I just don’t think it’s that big of a deal I borrowed the jacket.”

“In a perfect world my image wouldn’t matter at all,” Harry sighed, “Fame is a stupid, fickle thing musicians like me get stuck with.”

“Please, you love the attention,” she teases, poking at his chest. The sweatshirt he wore wrinkling under her touch.

“‘M serious,” he insists, “I’m saying it shouldn’t matter that you borrowed my jacket, but sadly it comes across to the rest of the world like I’m dating you.” He pokes her sternum in return.

“And that would be the end of the world?” she smiles, her tone still teasing, but that worry is back and swimming in her eyes again.

This time, though, Harry must not see it because he laughs and lets go of her hand. “For a lot of people, I think it might be.”

She bites at her lip and tries to contain the laugh that bubbles in her. He was right and as he wandered back into the kitchen for more coffee, she shook her head trying to rid herself of those pesky feelings that had been hoping for a different answer.

-

The next few weeks go off without a hitch. Harry’s outfits look incredible for the listening parties. Then for the Graham Norton Show, the Jingle Bell Ball, and the One Night Only at the Forum. Every single outfit is received with praise and everything seems to be coming up Harry Styles. Y/N has been traveling to most of his appearances, making sure everything is in order before he goes out. She’s always by his side before he walks out into the public eye. Taking his picture and saving it in the lookbook that keeps growing, smoothing over his lapels, either unbuttoning or buttoning a middle button when she thought he had too many or not enough undone for the look. Whatever it was, she was there for him.

Then, after his appearances, they would debrief. Debriefs really were just time that Harry carved out in his schedule to just be alone with Y/N. Sure, they talked about clothes, that’s how they had first connected, but it always turned to other ideas. They’d talk about his songs and she’d ask about the meanings that he wouldn’t share with the rest of the world. He’d happily tell her about it and they enjoyed that time together. There were stolen glances and lingering touches, but at the end of the day they were professionals who were friends. It wasn’t maybe what either of them wanted, but they weren’t unhappy.

Harry just got back from Los Angeles after filming for his Ellen show appearance and he was set to play the Bowery Ballroom tomorrow in London. After this there was going to be a lot of downtime on Harry’s schedule because of the holidays. He had marked out almost a whole month of time off, at least from appearances. They still had to start planning tour outfits and finalize the outfits for the events after the break. Right now, all she was focused on was getting Harry into the beautiful yellow Gucci suit that was a twin of the Watermelon Sugar suit he had worn on Saturday Night Live. Harry said he wanted to check the suit before tomorrow for some reason, so Y/N had made her way over.

She finished buttoning the sleeves of the jacket and stepped back to admire Harry once again. No matter what he wore he always looked marvelous in her eyes. She’d argue anyone could say that about Harry though. He could pull anything off and make it his own with barely any effort.

Today, his hair was disheveled and mused from his plane ride back into London. The flight from California to England was a rough one, even when you traveled in the type of luxury Harry did. Despite his tired body and eyes, the suit looked stunning on him. He wore it without shoes and she giggled when she saw his feet. His feet tattoos never failed to make her laugh and she had no explanation for why.

While Harry looked good in everything, there actually was something a little off with the suit right now. Normally, it hugged him just right to make him look perfectly muscled and defined, but it seemed to be hanging a little looser in some areas.

She tapped a finger to her lip, looking him over, unsure of what was off.

“Did you lose weight, H?”

“Huh?” He looks down at himself and somewhat notices the looser fit, but wasn’t quite sure if he had lost weight. “Don’t think so.”

She hums and steps closer to him, dropping her hands to tug at various parts of the suit, trying to figure out whether she should take anything in or leave it be.

“It’s probably all the travel I’ve been doin’. Can be draining me more than I realize.” He ponders as she continues to work silently over the suit.

Her hands travel beneath the suit and encircle his waist, almost as if she’s hugging him, but not really. His stomach flexes at the contact, her chest pressed softly against his. She grips a bit of the shirt from the back and then unfolds herself from him to look at the mirror. The shirt is now taut against his sternum and pectorals under the coat. She tilts her head, silently asking him his opinion.

“I think it’s fine the way it is, honestly.”

“Okay,” she nods and releases her hold on the shirt, hand slithering out from beneath his coat. He exhales deeply through his nose. “Make sure you eat properly tonight.” She says before beginning to pack up her things, done for the day. Harry begins to undress himself.

She turns back to face him as he hands her the jacket and shirt, her eyes run over the length of his torso, both for the sake of checking on his health and for other purely selfish reasons. All the tattoos still remained where they always were when she saw him like this. It never got old, his beautiful body. He didn’t even need clothes to look good. She blinks back to reality when the fabric comes in contact with her hand.

“Make sure you treat yourself this holiday season, you deserve it, H. And it seems like any weight you ever gain is muscle anyways, so you don’t exactly have to worry around the sweets table.”

Harry laughs heartily as he slips on his long sleeve shirt he was wearing. Then he starts on the pants as she turns away again to hang up the top parts of the suit.

Finally, she adds when he hands her the suit pants, “Just don’t want you overworking yourself, seriously, H.”

He looks at her as he buttons up his baggy blue jeans. The outfit he wore was just the first clean things he had grabbed when he had gotten home. His green eyes turn serious after the mirthfilled last few moments.

He crosses to her side as she puts away the clothes in the garment bag. His hand lands softly on her shoulder and she turns to him at his touch. “I know. You’re so good to me, darling. Always making sure I’m taking care of myself…”

It’s quiet. The soft breeze in the London air outside barely whispers around the house. Harry’s voice was laced with love, even if it wasn’t his intention. His ‘thank you’ was piercing into her heart and his touch wasn’t helping her stay focused. Her breath caught in her throat when she felt Harry take a step closer to her, his head ducking slightly down to her level. Then, right on the edge of her left temple and her hairline, his soft lips pressed against her skin. They brushed against her for just a moment, lingering for the respectful amount of time. But all she wanted was anything but respectful. She wanted his lips pressed against hers, she wanted his hands in her hair, yanking her deeply into him. She wanted to scream when he pulled away, but she didn’t. She smiled warmly up at Harry and her eyelashes fluttered on their own accord like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Thank you,” he whispers again.

“What would you do without me?” She pushes at him playfully, shaking off her giddiness. Then she turns back to her work, scooping up all the items of hers on the table.

“Probably have to walk around naked, huh?”

“Oh my god!” She laughs and starts for the door, Harry follows behind to walk to her out to her car. “Maybe I should quit! People would love it.” She continues laughing as she hangs the garment in the passenger's seat side.

“No thank you, please,” Harry hurriedly says.

She turns to him as she closes the door and leans against the car. This was their routine right before she left, a final chat against the car before she drove off for the night.

“Tomorrow’s going to be amazing, H. It’s gonna be electric!” She scrunches her nose slightly at the pun about the venue as she smiles up at him.

He sticks his tongue into the side of his cheek, holding back a laugh. His eyes narrow at her, slyly. “Very funny.”

She only winks at him before pushing herself off of her car and walks to the driver’s side of the car.

He waves as she begins to pull out of the driveway and she flashes him a peace sign and a mouthed ‘Bye’ when she turns onto the street.

-

After the Bowery Ballroom show, Y/N barely sees Harry at the after party. She doesn’t worry about it too much. His management was going to have a holiday party next week before the little break began for the team. So, she knew she’d see him before she flew back to see her family for the holidays. She was going home for two weeks and then would be back for New Year’s and then would get back to work after that.

She saw Harry exactly twice after the show. First, she saw Harry right after the show and he was all sweaty and exhilarated. He tackled her in a bear hug with such strength she would have fallen back if he hadn’t been holding her so tightly. When he pulled away, he placed two extremely slobbery kisses on her cheeks and she laughed, tipping her head back in pure bliss. Then he was pulled away by Jeff to change and get ready for the after party.

Jeff had apologized over text about the tone he had taken over the whole jacket thing, but only Harry had told him to. It was fine with Y/N, she told him that too, but she just never felt like being around him for very long if she could help it after that. That’s why she liked that most of her job entailed dealing with Harry directly. If she had to go through Jeff for everything she’d likely pull her hair out. He was still short with her at whole team meetings and not necessarily courteous when they were around each other casually. Like she said, it was fine, she just didn’t make it her business to be around Jeff.

The second time she saw Harry was around half past one am. She was pretty sure it was time for her to uber home and she wanted to say goodbye to Harry. Her well-liquored body stumbled around the big room. Deciding to take shots with the band had gotten her to where she was now and she wasn’t complaining she was happy. She was in a celebratory mood and wanted to see Harry right now. Tell him how much fun she had and how proud she was of him. How much she loved him… Hopefully she kept that part to herself.

“Harry!” She finally exclaims, coming upon a group of people surrounding the star himself. She ignored the rest of the people, likely stars too, but she really couldn’t care less. One of them tried to straighten up as if he was going to block her from Harry, feeling like she maybe wasn’t someone Harry wanted to see since they didn’t know her. No one seemed to ever recognize Y/N as Harry’s stylist when it mattered. Harry waved them off, a little drunk as well, but obviously recognizing Y/N.

“Darling!” He exclaims and raises his arms out to her. She grips onto him quickly and snuggles into him happily. With her still in his arms, he turns them from the prying eyes of the group he had been with.

She raises her head from his warm chest so that her lips are near his ear, “Congratulations, Mr. Styles.”

“Thanks, baby,” he purrs into her ear, his voice coarse and low, carrying over the music. She giggles at the nickname, her entire plan going out the metaphorical window.

Her fingers smooth up over the fabric on his chest, a nice short sleeve silk button down that was tucked into dark high waisted trousers - they’d picked it out last week. One of her fingers begins to trace around his collarbone after she reaches the opening of the shirt. His eyes flutter shut at the contact. They were so needy for each other. Each touch would coarse heat through them every time.

“I’m going…” She says after a moment of silence between them. The party was raging around them, most not paying any mind to the two of them off in their own world.

“Don’t go,” Harry practically begs. A hand flies up to pet over the top of her hair and she smiles even wider.

“It’s late and I’m tired,” she makes a face in response to Harry’s pout, “You have lots of people to entertain, Mr. Styles.” Her teeth capture her bottom lip as she stares at him intently.

He groans and pulls her closer. This time his lips brush right against her ear and she wants to shiver, but he keeps her in place. “If you keep calling me that, you’re gonna drive me insane.”

Her eyes widen but her hazy mind isn’t processing all of what is going on. She barely takes inventory of ‘baby’, for him to say she’s turning him on without actually saying it. Tomorrow Y/N would have to deal with that one.

She pulls back from him, creating space between their chests, but he still holds her waist close to him. She leans up and places a kiss on the corner of his lips. It’s technically supposed to be a kiss on the cheek but if she had moved her lips a millimeter to the right they would have been on Harry’s. This gesture has his grip tightening on her, but she pulls away.

“Goodnight!” She sings as she bounces out of sight, wiggling her fingers in a wave before completely being gone.

Harry sighs and runs a hand over his face, kind of in shock of the last five minutes. He had liked it. He just hadn’t expected it. When he turns his attention back to the group that was behind him, it’s not the same as it was before. Jeff looks at him with narrowed eyes and Harry’s eyes go wide and his grin widens as well.

-

Tonight is the management holiday party for Harry’s team. Y/N and Harry had seen each other two days after the Electric Ballroom to debrief, but mostly to get brunch. They didn’t talk about the little teases they shared at the after party. Both of them just assumed that the other probably didn’t remember and didn’t want to go through the trouble and embarrassment of recounting it. Alcohol has that effect of making you a little bolder than you actually are.

Brunch with Harry solidified Y/N’s thoughts on fame. Celebrity could be so strange, because there was the one day when she got photographed with just Harry’s jacket on and there was speculation of dating, but then she could go out to brunch with him and not be bothered at all. It made absolutely no sense.

Anyway, tonight there were no gifts, but Y/N had gotten Harry something even though he said he never needs anything. She hoped she’d be able to give it to him after they were walking back to their transportation since she wanted it to be a surprise and not have everyone know she gave him a gift. It wasn’t a big deal - or maybe it was - it was just an item she knew Harry had been fawning over. It was so him and she knew he’d probably end up buying it for himself eventually, but it felt nice to be able to give him something for once. Price didn’t matter. Still, she was a little nervous and tucked and re-tucked it several times in the back seat of her car before heading inside.

It was a restaurant his management had rented out for their party. She gave her name and headed inside. The lighting was overly dimmed and it smelled like expensive alcohol and delicious food. It was everything an A-list singer deserved as a celebration. She never could fully grasp that the Harry she had gotten to know as her friend was also the same Harry that the entire world was infatuated with, for good reason. He was charming in the best way, terribly sincere, insanely talented, and all around a good human being. She knew that, it just surprised her that everyone else knew it too. There was just that disconnect for her that she shared him with the rest of the world.

Her high heeled heels brought her to the backroom of the restaurant. They managed to shimmer even in the dim light. She had gone for winter chic with a sequin and mesh white dress, that looked like fresh snow with a cream and blue swirling design on the under layer so that her undergarments weren’t showing through. It was like a modern ice princess look that was finished with her heels that had sparkles on the entire back of them. Her hair was down and her makeup a little more done up than usual. She used a light blue eyeshadow to imitate ice and added some rhinestones on the inner parts of her eyes. She may have watched a Euphoria-inspired makeup look tutorial on youtube and she wasn’t afraid to admit that.

The scene she came upon was what she expected. Lots of men in suits and a good amount of women in power suits too. The people in any interesting clothes were Harry and his band. Some of the business people’s partners were dressed up more but it all wasn’t too exciting. Plus, Harry’s famous friends group hadn’t shown up yet. Y/N hid her disappointment easily, not surprised about the lack of flavor she saw in the style. She just repeated the mantra her mother had always told her: “You can never be overdressed, only underdressed.” It stuck with her always and made her go for those bolder styles when she needed to.

Harry was there, sipping on a glass of water. She figured he might not want to get started on drinking so early in the evening. Tonight didn’t feel like a drinking night for her either. After the last big party, she had woken up with a massive hangover and a few memories that she wished she hadn’t made. She wasn’t planning on repeating that series of events.

As she goes to grab a glass of water on the large table, she gets a tap on her shoulder. She spins.

“Happy Holidays, darling!”

Her eyes widen and her smile immediately grows. Harry grins back at her, his mouth open in the perfect winning smile of his and his eyes twinkling with happiness.

“Happy Holidays to you too, Mr.-” She stops herself, remembering back to the last party, “H.” She finishes firmly after clearing her throat. Harry’s grin turns to a wicked knowing smirk.

“I’m happy you came! I know you’re not super connected to all of the groups here, Harry Lambert is around somewhere though and I know he’s been wanting to talk with you about clothes.”

Harry watches as her eyes shine even brighter when he mentions the other stylist. It was true, Y/N didn’t really mesh with any of the groups that worked around Harry. The stylist kind of stood alone in regards to where she fit into his life, not the business part, not the band part, not the crew, and not the other celebrities. Harry Lambert and other fashion people didn’t always come to these events so it was seldom that Y/N had her own people to talk to. Not that mingling was hard for her, he just knew she didn’t like to do that as much so whenever another stylist or designer was there he always made sure to introduce them - if they weren’t already acquainted.

“That’s amazing! I haven’t seen him in ages… I’ll have to get his opinion on how I’ve been doing.”

Harry licks his lips as he laughs a little at her comment. She looked beautiful tonight and he wanted to tell her.

“Harry. What the hell are you wearing?” Her eyes flash as she takes in his appearance.

He looks down at himself and then back at her confused. They hadn’t picked the outfit out, but he thought it looked nice.

“Obviously not the suit! On your head?”

“Oh. It’s a gift from Mitch and Sarah.” He pauses to reach up to play with the headband sat on top of his curls. “It’s mistletoe and it seems like you’re standing beneath it. You know what that means,” he toys with it as he wiggles his eyebrows.

She scoffs sarcastically, looking to the side for a means of escape, “No way.”

“C’mon! It’s tradition!” He steps forward playfully and she places a hand on his chest.

“You can kiss my cheek.” She says finally and Harry looks at her disapprovingly.

He wags a finger at her with his free hand, “You’re the one under the mistletoe, you have to kiss me.”

“Okay that’s definitely not how this works! Now you don’t get any kiss at all, you cheeky bastard.”

“Fine. But don’t come crying to me when you’re the one with coal in your stocking.”

“Haha.” Her eyes once again roll to the side as she pushes him back and he steps back like she actually had a strong push. Then they both actually laugh and she gives him a quick side hug with a whispered, “there”. Harry smiles down at her, but it falters slightly when she’s already pulling away. He wanted her at his side the entire night, but sadly that wasn’t reality.

She drags him around the restaurant in search of Harry Lambert since the party had started to grow and she needed his height to get her where she wanted to go. Maybe. Or maybe she just liked the way he held her hand to lead her through the crowd that was most definitely not dense enough for her to have to hold on to him to stay with him at all.

She sees more of Harry at this party. They have some good conversations about plans for the holidays and snickering about who was already too drunk even though it wasn’t even midnight. She can’t believe he keeps on the stupid headband all night, giving and receiving various types of kisses from every person he talks to. Some are kisses on the cheek, others are friendly smooches on the mouth. Thankfully all of them are those cute little pecks that friends always tend to share, otherwise Y/N might have had to excuse herself and leave early. Jealous little thing.

As the night dragged on, she began to question herself on that front. Why was she growing jealous when friends would kiss Harry. She could've kissed Harry. She practically did the other week. But now, after refusing him a mistletoe kiss and seeing everyone else do what she didn’t have the courage to do, she felt childish. Well, childish or not, she knew why she couldn’t kiss him. Kissing Harry wouldn’t be just a friend thing for her. It would mean a lot more and if it was just a friend thing for him she wouldn’t be sure if she could handle going on with their working relationship after. Her job was the most important thing in her life. Being a stylist, loving clothes, and working on personal designs for the future was her life. Giving up this prestigious of a job was out of the question. Maybe the idea of being with Harry had crossed her mind, but she didn’t know how it could ever be realistic. If they got together could she keep her job? Would she have to quit? And find a new one? There were too many unknowns for her to ever actually entertain it. That’s why they went to the edge so often, she always would back away and she was sure that if she didn’t, Harry would for her.

He knew her. He knew her passion, he watches it firsthand everyday they work together. Even when they’re not working he can see her mind forming different ideas just based off of the things she sees people wear on the streets. He watches her fingers fiddle over her phone, typing out notes for design ideas and screenshotting inspiration. So every time they went to the edge of changing their relationship, he knew he couldn’t push it because he never wanted to hurt her or her dreams in some way. She was too important to him to simply mess that up.  Even if it hurt him.

So when Harry slides in the back of her car that night at 2 am because Y/N says she has something important to show him, he’s fully ready to stop their flirting from going any further. And when she tells him she needs to show him something, she has the most pure intentions when she pulls out the nicely wrapped box, its wrapping paper a swirling lavender pattern that’s really not festive at all, but she prefers it.

He looks between her and the box that she’s now placed in his lap. His green eyes flickering even in the darkness of the car, the city lights illuminating the backseat enough for them.

“You know I don’t need anything…” He fiddles with the skinny mesh ribbon neatly tied around the box.

She makes a little gesture, pushing him to open the present, “I know, but I also know you’ve been wanting this and you deserve it.”

He unwraps the paper to reveal a Gucci box and he rolls his eyes at her, but smiles genuinely as he lifts the top of the box off. It reveals a 1955 Horsebit Shoulder Bag in beautiful shiny black leather. It’s gorgeous.

“I can’t...I don’t know what to say,” Harry’s eyes are huge as his delicate hands ghost over the bag's details. He had been wanting it and he hadn’t gotten the courage to buy it yet. He liked purses, but sometimes he even had his doubts about what he could pull off.

His eyes go back to her and she smiles widely at him, all her teeth on display because she’s just that happy. “This is a really expensive bag, Y/N.”

“If it makes you feel better I can charge it as a wardrobe expense, but then it’s not really a gift from me,” She sighs at his unrelenting gaze.

“Thank you.” He touches at the bag again and then does a dance in his spot. “And don’t worry, I will always remember this as a gift from you. I love it.”

She smiles and leans over the box to look at the bag, admiring the beauty of it as well. “It’s pretty great.”

“Mhmm,” Harry hums and she raises her eyes, seeing his trained on her face. “You’re under the mistletoe again, darling,” he smirks.

Her breath stops once again, how could he do that to her so easily? Their eyes stay locked under the city lights. The fake mistletoe bobs above them still connected to the silly headband. It’s colorful leaves and fun stripes mock her when she flicks her gaze up to it for a moment. Then back to Harry. Harry who’s holding the gift she just gave him. Harry who looks beautiful tonight. Harry who is her favorite person in the world to spend time with.

Now. Now is when she pulls back from the ledge. This is when she takes a step back and stops herself. When Harry laughs it off. When she pushes him away. When they go about the rest of their day like that electricity hadn’t gone up either of their spines.

But that’s not what happens. Instead, she nods in agreement and then crashes her lips against Harry’s. It’s not like those friend kisses that had happened with him all night under that same mistletoe. It’s hard and hot and fast. Her lips are pressed to his for one searing moment and then she’s biting his lip, desperate to taste more of him. She had been longing for this for so long and now that she had it, she couldn’t let it go.

Harry’s hands fly to her cheeks as he pulls her closer, more into his lap. He pushes the box into the front area of the car blindly. The gift was completely forgotten. This was a far more important matter. Her lips were wet and plush and they tasted like the single Manhattan she had halfway through the night and vanilla lip gloss. When she bites his lip, he can’t hold back the moan inside his throat and she presses her tongue into his mouth quickly. He was her oasis and she had been traveling for months. He responds with similar vigor, enjoying the way her body presses to his in the backseat of this little car.

They kiss for as long as they can. Licking, sucking, and biting each other’s lips to taste as much as they can. But it’s just kissing. Neither of them work to travel anywhere else. Their lips are seemingly enough. Each press of their lips communicates what they had been longing for. It’s euphoric.

When the windows start to fog and her eyes open for a random moment, she realizes they need to cool whatever this is.

“H-Harry,”  She gulps for a breath of air and she tries to get his attention. “I gotta get home.”

“Come back to my place,” he mumbles into her collarbone, happily licking over his love bite.

She laughs and swallows slowly, “That is definitely out of the question, I have a flight tomorrow.”

He removes his mouth from her and straightens up. His lips are even brighter pink than usual and perfectly puffy. His hair disheveled from her hands. She blushes at the thought.

“Right, forgot about that,” he opens the car door and they both slide out. They stand at her car, just like they usually did outside his house. However this time is quite different from most.

They sigh heavily, in unison. The winter air is cold in London. She shivers slightly and knows she can’t stay in his presence much longer.

“Merry Christmas, H.”

He leans down and places one last sweet kiss to her lips. She wrinkles her nose and smiles  unabashedly.

“Merry Christmas, Darling.”

-

Harry and her don’t talk as much while she’s back home for the holidays. There’s no work to be discussed and while they parted on not necessarily bad terms, there was definitely a conversation that needed to be had between the two. Neither seemed to want to have that conversation over the phone, or worse, text. So for the next week and a half, Harry and Y/N exchanged texts of funny memes that reminded them of each other and odd anecdotes from family members that had made them laugh. Nothing really substantial, just small, I was thinking of you messages.

When she walked out of the luggage carousel at London Heathrow Airport, she expected to be getting in the queue for an uber. Instead, before she could cross the street to get to the queue even, a tall man stopped her. A tall, scruffy, extremely buff, extremely handsome, and extremely kissable man. Harry. It would be terribly strange if it was anyone else.

“Excuse me, ma’am, do you need a lift back to your flat?” His dark sunglasses cover his face and a big coat, scarf, and hat make him hardly recognizable. The curls sticking out from beneath the cute knit scarf are thankfully a dead give away for her. As well as his perfect drawling voice.

She shivered in the cold, her matching grey sweatpants and Treat People With Kindness sweatshirt had been warm enough on the flight, but proved inadequate for almost January in London. Yet, Harry’s presence brings a smile to her face.

“It’s good to see you, H.”

He laughs, his cover obviously blown. His arms encircle her body and she instantly melts into his embrace. His large coat easily fell around her and warmed her. His own natural body heat adds to her new found warmth as well.

“You too,” he murmured. His head buries into the crook of her neck, warming her cold skin.

He pulls back after a rather long embrace, realizing they’re still out on the sidewalk. He takes one step back and she visibly deflates at his absence, the cold once again surrounding her.

“Let’s get you home,” he grabs at the handle of her suitcase in one hand and her hand in the other. The warmth returns and she grins, placated by his touch.

“So are you coming to my party tonight?” He inquires once he settles into the driver’s seat after putting her suitcase in the back.

She shifts in her seat, arms wrapped tightly around herself, still cold without any warmth from Harry or the car. “Don’t you suppose there was a reason why I chose to come home today?”

Harry’s ears perk at the use of home, never assuming Y/N viewed London as her home, still it made him smile.

As the car purrs to life, heat immediately seeping out of the seats and vents, Harry’s phone connects as well. NFWMB by Hozier begins to play softly and she glances at Harry again. The song was so sultry and soft, like expensive dark chocolate melting on your tongue. The mood in the car seemed to shift. Their eyes met, Harry’s green ones narrowing at her, trying to decipher the look she was giving to him.

Then he drove off, softly singing along to the words through the sleepy streets. It was surprisingly quiet out for the holidays, people choosing to lay low during the day so they could celebrate the changing of decades in full force tonight.

After the song ends, his eyes travel over to her again and she’s already looking at him. She had missed his face. Sure, he’d sent some silly selfies while she was gone. Mostly on Christmas Eve with his family when he had gotten drunk on mulled wine and eggnog and brandy. Still, in person, he was even more beautiful. The high cheek bones that glistened with a shine most makeup could only hope to produce. Full raspberry lips with stubble growing to frame above and below. The crinkles growing on his forehead and by his eyes that showed him aging with grace. The precious few moles that had gotten lucky enough to live on his face forever. His big green eyes that were consistently bright with interest and intellect, but deep and knowing despite his loving demeanor. She loved those big green eyes, they were just so big and she didn’t understand how no one took the same interest in them as her. All of it, just sitting there beside her. Don’t even get her started on the soul that inhabited the beautiful man beside her. She never would stop spiraling then.

“What?” He asks softly, the sounds of Paul McCartney during some era fading in.

She blinks, hazily in admirance, “Nothing,” she replies.

“What?” He insists, laughing slightly, the lips she loves so much widening in excitement.

“Just missed you.”

Her voice is quiet but strong, serious. A blush creeps up his neck, taking hold of his features.

“Missed you too,” his left hand reaches across the console to take hold of her hand that resided on her thigh. He squeezes her hand softly and they both smile at each other again.

“Don’t worry, I can get my stuff upstairs. I don’t want you being out in the cold any longer than you have to. I’ll see you tonight, H!” She pushes her body across the console and places a kiss on his cheek before jumping out of the car. Harry makes a half smile, knowing he can’t change her mind. He waves to her behind the window as she travels into her building.

“See you.” He says to himself before driving back to his home to finish up preparing for tonight’s festivities. The party was going to be more intimate than the Christmas party at the restaurant. Tonight was just Harry’s family and closest friend - the band, Jeff and his family, Y/N, and a few others.

-

The whole night Harry and Y/N are within a foot of each other, if not on top of each other. He never leaves her side nor does she his. They are tethered to one another. The longest they’re apart is when Harry gets them refills of Champagne and Y/N journeys to the restroom. They laugh and catch up.

As the night goes on, Harry begins to whisper sweet nothings in her ear and she giggles and places her hand on his chest flirtily. Their interaction is a dance, bedroom eyes and low voices, lingering touches and suggestive lip bites.

When the countdown begins to grow closer, everyone refills their drinks and gathers in the center of Harry’s living room. They cheer and countdown to 2020. And of course, Y/N’s by Harry’s side as he begins the count. And when they get to ‘one’ and everyone’s saying “Happy New Year”, Harry and her are sharing a chaste peck to the lips that electrifies everything they had been saying to each other all night. She sighs into his mouth, but pulls away quickly, aware of their surroundings. No one particularly questions the kiss, either not paying attention or caring. Harry beams down at her and they enjoy the rest of the evening.

At around 1 am, the last of the guests stumble out of Harry’s homes and into waiting ubers and safe rides. Y/N lingers back, beginning to clean the discarded glassware and paper plates. Her and Harry are definitely tipsy, but they enjoy the cleaning work, making terrible jokes about New Year’s and commenting on what people wore tonight. When it’s relatively cleaned in the kitchen, Y/N wanders out to the living room and finds Harry reclined back on the couch.

“H,” She sticks out her foot and nudges him with her boot.

“C’mere,” he reaches out his hand to her, his coat discarded, leaving his arms bare with only a white tank top on.

She takes his hand hesitantly and is yanked on top of Harry in an instant. With a loud huff, she settles above him. “That wasn’t nice.”

“Shush,” his pointer finger goes over her lips, her eyes narrow at him, “Can you believe we’re seeing 2020?”

“Oh my god! I hate you!” She rolls her eyes at his pun and shakes herself from his hand around her waist. She stands up to walk away but he easily grasps her wrist and stops her, easily sitting himself up on the couch.

He looks at her and her annoyance, that wasn’t all too strong in the first place, dissipates. She sighs, “I should probably be heading home.”

“You should stay, it’s so late,” his hand rubbing over the skin on her wrist.

She bites her lip, contemplating the offer, he was right. “I’m really tired and we haven’t really talked, H.”

“But we-”

“Not about us. We’ve been skirting around it, flirting with each other all night, but we haven’t talked about what’s going on. I can’t stay if you expect something from me.”

“I don’t expect anything from you, Y/N. That’s not why I want you to say,” Harry says earnestly, realizing quickly  what she’s saying. “I’ve never expected anything from you. An offer to stay is just an offer to stay.”

“Okay,” she finally smiles and sits down beside Harry.

“You can sleep in the guest bedroom, too. If that makes you more comfortable?”

“Oh...I don’t know if we have to take it that far. Plus, you’re like a personal heater and I get cold at night.”

Harry perks up, he had been feeling resigned that maybe she wasn't on the same page as him. He wanted to be with her all the time but also didn’t want to put any pressure on her. She just made him so happy.

“Great! Let’s get to bed then.” He pops up from the couch and brings her into his arms, “You know where all my clothes are, so you can just borrow whatever you want, and then I’m sure I have extra toothbrushes…”

She giggles into his side as she watches him ramble animatedly. Sometimes he was oh so bright, so joyful and carefree. A stark contrast from the quiet confidence he often exhibited for the public.

-

She woke up in the warm embrace of Harry. His whole bed smelled like him, vanilla mixed with spices of tobacco and sandalwood. It was delicious and she snuggled in deeper to the soft chest she laid against, breathing in his scent deeply.

They rested there for a long time. Harry makes his awakening known with a lingering kiss to her forehead. They both sigh in contentment, radiant in each other’s arms.

“What’s the plan today?” She ponders as Harry’s fingers trace patterns over her skin. He hums in thought.

“Wanna be with you…”

She laughs and looks up at him, “Me too, but we can’t lay around all day.”

“Well, we could.” Harry insists.

She laughs again and twists in his arms, settling so she’s facing him. She bites her lip as she thinks about something, scanning his face over and over.

“I’m gonna go home and get ready for the day. Let’s just explore the city and do some 2020 shopping. Who knows, maybe fashion’s changed since the last decade,” she grins.

Harry chuckles a little and pets at her hair, “I like the sound of that. And we can talk - about us.”

“Mmhmm.”

He tilts his head forward and meets her lips once again, savoring her taste. Each kiss makes him want more. She was good.

-

Harry lugs in the four heavy shopping bags into her flat, as she carries the single small bag from the chocolatier he had dragged them into. He presses her to the counter when he sets down the bags and begins to kiss her face all over. She giggles and places her hands on his shoulders, giving him a kiss to the lips before pulling away.

They had talked about what they wanted, what they saw in each other and how that fit into their work relationship and the rest of their lives. Harry would have to talk to Jeff, but more so as a by the way this is what I’m doing with my life, not an ask for permission. Y/N would continue as his stylist until the end of the tour cycle, but afterwards she’d go back to freelancing. They wanted to try to date and be as normal as possible. She told him how she didn’t love the fame or the celebrities. Sure she dealt with those things for work, but when they were off duty, she wanted to be regular. She wanted to go out on dates and make dinner on weekend nights. Harry had agreed, he wanted those things too and he understood her wish to keep work and their relationship separate. However, he’d made her concede to allowing kisses during work hours. She had laughed and said it was an easy term to agree to.

It was going to be a good thing. They were both giddy with excitement, the new year, and all the new things they had bought on their relationship high.

“Oh!” She pushed Harry further away from her and hurried into her room. He laughed and looked confusedly after her. “Wait there!” She called. Harry leaned against the back of her upholstered chair.

“Close your eyes!” She says before coming back into the room. Harry’s hands go over his eyes easily as he grins blindly in her direction.

“‘M waiting…”

“Open.”

Harry’s hands slip away and his green eyes blink open. In front of him stands Y/N holding up a hand knit brown sweater vest with horizontal red, cream and blue thin stripes along with the thicker brown stripes. Harry beams, reaching his hands out to take hold of it.

“It was supposed to be a surprise for later, but I found it at this vintage place while I was home and I couldn’t wait any longer to show it to you.”

“Darling, this is gorgeous. I love it! But you shouldn’t have...”

“I thought you could wear it for Lizzo’s concert. I know you said you liked the other sweater vest, but this one is so-”

“You spoil me, seriously.” He cuts her off and laughs before pulling her back into him. Their lips collide in a searing kiss, Harry’s excitement over the new garment making him eager to show her how much he really loved it.

A small sigh escapes her lips as Harry presses into her. His tongue pushing into her mouth in a way that turns the sigh into a moan.

“Let me show you just how much I love it,” He murmurs against her lips, casting the garment onto the back of the chair he had previously been leaning on.

She smiles, eyes fluttering open and meeting his with adoration swelling in their depths. Then she allows him to back their intertwined bodies into her room.

-

Some apartment in New York a few months later:

“I knew it!” 

“Huh?” Aidy lifts her head from the skit she was working on to look at her friend and coworker. 

“That stylist...for Harry Styles,” Heidi shifts, sitting up and turning her phone to face Aidy, “She was seen out with him, getting lunch in London and then making out on a street corner. I bet they were dating back in November when he was on the show!” 

Aidy laughs, thinking back to her conversation with the stylist that night of Harry’s show. The girl had been so in love that night and Harry had been smitten all week, describing her in the best way, praising her every decision, yearning for her even. And now they were actually together...she was happy for them. 

“I don’t know about that...but they were head over Gucci heels for each other that’s for sure.” 

Heidi and her scroll through the pictures on social media of the singer and his girlfriend. 

“They probably are the best dressed couple I have ever seen,” Heidi grumbles. 

“Now that is definitely accurate.”

--

taglist: @meredithhuntt​ @sovereigndeadlyperfect @marauderswhisperer​ @toribentleyva​ @girlboss99​ @harryssunflxwer​ @loverofaccents​ @stephaniemalvie​ @mk15x @beanholland​ @stfxlou​ @loliismutt​ @pinkisawesome101​ @stilljosiegrossie​ @kikisparadise18​ @clementimee​

[nowandajenn]

Blue Christmas- Eight

Pairing: Chris Evans/OC Kelly

Summary: After almost three years of marriage, everyone would tell you that Chris and his wife Kelly are the most stable, solid couple they know. But behind closed doors, things are tense as they keep trying for a baby, to no avail. When a secret threatens to shake their solid marriage to it’s core, will they be able to pick up the pieces?

I do not consent to have my content, whether it be this story or anything else of my creation, posted by a third party on any other platform other than right here without my permission. This blog is 18+ and is not intended for minors. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Heed the warnings.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, smut, language, angst, mentions of miscarriage. If any of this is triggering to you, do not read. 

A/N: This is going to be very dialogue heavy, and will have flashbacks of the night that Chris cheated and everything that happened. Flashbacks will be in italics. Just a warning, this chapter is a BEAST. There’s a lot to unpack, and it’s going to be super emotional. 

December 29

Chris watches from his seat in the comfortable leather recliner in our living room as I twist my wedding and engagement rings around on my finger. It’s a nervous little habit that I do without even really realizing it or thinking about it. A million thoughts cross his mind as he sits silently, waiting for me to say something. 

After taking a few deep breaths to try and steel myself for the conversation that I KNOW that Chris and I need to have, I finally look up from the floor and at him. 

“Do you want a divorce?” Okay, the thousand different times I pictured this conversation happening in my head, that was definitely NOT one of the ways. Apparently my mouth and brain aren’t communicating very well today. 

Chris looks up at me, his expression aghast. 

“Wha-.......” he tries to speak, but is too stunned to even form the words. 

“Is that why you cheated? You don’t want to be with me anymore, so you went somewhere else for whatever is it that you weren’t getting from me?”

“No! Jesus Christ, no! I love you. I love you so much that it hurts. I can’t imagine my life without you. No, I don’t want a divorce.” he tells me. 

“Okay, if that’s not it, then you have to help me out here. Because I don’t understand what possible reason you could have for cheating. It had to be something that I did. Or something I didn’t do. I need you to tell me what happened. Because until I have all the facts and I understand what the hell happened, we can’t move forward.” 

He sits forward in the chair and sighs. 

“What do you want me to tell you?” 

“I want you to tell me what happened that night after we FaceTimed. I want to know what happened between then and the next morning.” I tell him. 

“You KNOW what happened.” he says miserably. 

I shake my head. “No, I know the end result. I want you to walk me through every single thing that happened that night. Everything you were thinking, everything you did.”

“Why? What good is that going to do? What’s the goddamn point? How is me telling you everything that happened going to help ANYTHING? All it’s going to do is hurt you more, and I can’t do that. I won’t.”

“The point is, if we have even the smallest hope of getting through this intact, with our MARRIAGE intact, I need to understand this. I need to know. I need to know, because when I go to sleep at night, all I can see in my head is all the things that I imagine happened that night. And I need to know if what actually happened is better or worse than what I can imagine happened. I have a right, as your wife, to know what you did.” 

Chris looks up, silently pleading with you to not make him do this, but he knows that you’re right. You do deserve to know, even if it’s going to devastate you. 

“After we got off the phone, I had to go right back into interviews and there was two more photo calls we had to do, so by the time we got done it was about 7:30 that night. I was distracted the whole time. I hated that we fought, and I felt like an asshole, and I just wanted to call you back and apologize, but I didn’t have time. Plus, I figured that we both probably needed a little bit of time to cool down. I told myself that I was going to call you that night before I went to bed so we could talk more and I could apologize to you. We all got out of there, and Cate and Robert and the rest of them wanted to go to dinner, so we came back to the hotel, changed, and then went out to eat.” Chris tells me. 

“What time did you get back from dinner?” 

“Around 10, I think. It couldn’t have been much later than that. Everyone else was talking about going out and finding a bar or a club to go to, but I just wanted to come back to the hotel and relax. I wasn’t in the mood to be around a lot of people.” 

I pull my feet up on the couch and tuck them under me. 

“Okay, so you got back to the hotel, and then what did you do?” 

For as tired as he was, Chris couldn’t relax. He tried taking a hot shower, laying in bed watching TV, browsing social media, and flipping through pictures on his phone. Finally, after about 45 minutes and getting more and more keyed up and anxious, he decides to go down to the hotel bar. 

When he walks in, the place is empty except for an older couple seated down at the end and the bartender. Chris slides himself onto one of the stools and the bartender makes her way over to him. 

“Thank God. A friendly face.” she says with a smile. 

Chris glances down the bar at the couple. “They seem pretty friendly.” he remarks. 

“Yeah, but they’ve been here for an hour and they’re literally babying their drinks, and aren’t much for conversation that doesn’t involve each other. I’m bored out of my mind.” 

She stick her hand out. “I’m Jo.”

Chris reaches across the bar and shakes her hand with his own. “Chris. Nice to meet you.”

“So, Chris, what’s your poison?”

“What was her name?” I ask him. He just referred to her as “the bartender” and “she”. 

He runs his hand down his face and over his beard. 

“I don’t......I honestly can’t remember. It was one of those boys names for a girl. You know.....Alex or Max or James.......I don’t......I can’t remember.” 

I cover my face with my hands and take a deep breath. I want to scream already, and he’s not even deep into the story. I shake my head slightly. 

“You slept with this girl, and you don’t even remember her NAME.” I say softly. 

Chris hangs his head. 

“Keep going.” 

She pours him another measure of whiskey, along with a shot for herself. They clink glasses and swallow the amber liquid, letting it burn it’s way down. 

“So what did you and your wife fight about?” she asks him. 

Chris sighs. 

“It’s......it’s complicated.”

“Hey, I’m a bartender, which means that I’m a really great listener. It’s practically a job requirement. You might feel better if you talk about it.” 

“We’re trying to have a baby.”

“Soo....what’s the problem. Trying is the fun part!” 

“We’ve been trying for a year and a half almost, and nothing’s happening. She’s perfect; there’s absolutely nothing wrong with her that would keep her from getting pregnant, but it’s just not happening. And we both want a baby so bad, and the look on her face when......it fucking kills me.” 

He knows that he shouldn’t be telling a complete stranger all of this, especially considering who he is, but the alcohol has loosened his tongue, and if he doesn’t spill his guts to someone, he’s going to explode. 

Jo puts a soft, warm hand over his. 

“I’m sorry, That has to be tough. For both of you.” she says softly. 

“I mean, I guess I never thought that it would take actual work, you know? I assumed that ‘hey, if we just keep having sex, eventually she’s going to get pregnant’ and it would be easy. She’s getting scared and fed up and talking about adoption and fertility doctors, and I hate seeing her so stressed out and upset, and I kind of just.....I said some things and made it worse and I feel like a complete fucking jackass.” 

“What if you guys can’t have kids?” 

“As much as I want to have kids with her, I don’t need them to be happy. As long as I have Kelly in my life, I’ll be perfectly happy. Do I want to be a dad? Yeah, absolutely. But there are so many kids out there that need good homes, so there are other options, but I don’t think that we’re there yet, you know?”

I get up and storm out of the room with Chris right on my heels. 

“Kelly, wait, please.....”

He touches my arm and I spin around to face him, and the look in my eyes makes him fall back a step. 

I’m so pissed off and hurt right now I could spit nails. 

“You......you told her.....EVERYTHING. You told her.....EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING, Chris! Do you even......do you even fucking understand what you did? Like.....” 

I squat down close to the floor and put my head between my knees. My heart is pounding and I’m so worked up that I’m afraid I’m going to pass out if I don’t calm down. And I’m not going anywhere or doing anything until I get the whole damn story. 

“Look, I know-” 

I look up at him incredulously. 

“No! No, you don’t know! You don’t know shit! You fucking betrayed me, in every single sense of the word. You didn’t just fuck her, you told her, a complete stranger, about me. About us trying to have a baby. You told her about things that you never even fucking bothered to tell me! Do you realize that she could go to the press? She could go and spill all of these juicy little secrets that you spilled to her over shots of Jack and have herself a nice little pay day.”

“Kelly, you wanted to know what happened that night, so I’m telling you what happened, despite everything inside of me screaming at me not to. I’m not going to lie to you or keep things from you. You wanted to know everything.” Chris says. 

I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth so hard that my jaw hurts. 

“I can’t look at you right now. I need a break.” I tell him, grabbing my jacket. I grab Dodger’s leash off the peg in the hallway and call for him. 

Dodger trots over, tongue lolling out of his mouth, happy to be going on a walk. 

“I’ll be back in a while.” 

Forty five minutes later, I’m in the utility room stripping off my wet clothes after getting Dodger dry and wiping off his paws. 

Chris stops pacing the kitchen when he sees me walking through the house in my bra and underwear. 

“What happened to your clothes?” he asks. 

“Dodger saw a squirrel and got excited and kind of dragged me through a snow bank.” I sigh. I throw my clothes in the dryer and make my way into our room to get changed. 

“Dodge, come on.....” Chris admonishes. Dodger just jumps up on the bed and curls up. 

I throw on a pair of gray sweatpants and a blue Patriots hoodie that’s hung over the back of the chair in our room and sit down on the side of the bed. 

“I want to know the rest.” I tell Chris. 

He sits down heavily on the end of the bed. 

“No, you don’t.” 

I swallow thickly. “You’re right. I don’t. But it doesn’t matter, because you’re going to tell me anyway.” 

Hours pass with Jo and Chris laughing and talking and flirting back and forth, until it’s 1am and the bar closes for the night. 

“Thanks for sticking around and hanging out tonight. I think I would have died of sheer boredom if you hadn’t.” Jo laughs softly. She offered to walk him back to his room as he was pretty well drunk and a little unsteady on his feet. 

“It was no problem. I didn’t really want to be alone tonight to be honest. I used to do really well on my own. I was used to it, and then......I wasn’t alone.” Chris tells her. 

Once they reach his room, they linger outside for a few minutes, both of them not really wanting the night to end. Jo steps closer to him, knowing exactly what she wants and completely unashamed about it. 

“You should kiss me.” she says softly, looking up at him with big doe eyes. She places her hands on his chest and instead of immediately backing away like he should have, he leans into her touch. 

Chris closes his eyes as he feels his mouth go dry and a strange fluttery feeling in his stomach. He hasn’t really felt this way since....

He opens his eyes and breathes out deeply. “I can’t. I’m married. I’m married and I’m insanely in love with my wife.” 

“So? You should kiss me anyway. I can tell you want to. You’ve been flirting with me all night.” she says, taking a step closer. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise. You need a way to release all this tension you’ve got, and I’m more than willing to help you out anyway I can.” 

Before his brain can scream at him to stop, he’s wrapping his arms around her and covering her mouth with his, kissing her soundly. It’s a battle of teeth and tongues, both of them trying to take control from the other. Without breaking apart, Chris manages to get his key card out of his pocket and gets the door open, pushing both of them through it and slamming it behind them. 

“This never goes beyond this room. We never talk about this ever again.” Chris gasps, pulling away from her just long enough to get the words out. 

“Absolutely.” she agrees. 

Clothes are torn off and tossed to the floor in a frenzy, and as soon as Chris drops his pants and boxers, Jo sinks to her knees and takes him in her mouth, swallowing him almost all the way down. 

“Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Christ, yes, just like that.” he moans out. 

He brings his right hand to her hair, holding it in a makeshift ponytail while his left hand goes to her shoulder. 

She almost makes him lose his mind with the things she can do with her tongue, and within minutes, he’s fucking her face roughly as spit runs down her chin and tears are springing to her eyes from the assault on her throat, but she loves it. She has the man she’s fantasized about for years shoving his cock down her throat, and she’s never been more turned on in her life. She smirks to herself as she wonders if his wife ever sucks him off like THIS. 

When he can’t stand it anymore, Chris pulls her off his dick and takes a few deep breaths. 

“I need a condom.” 

“Right. I have one in my purse.” she tells him as she reaches for her bag and finds it and hands it to him. 

“Get on the bed. On your hands and knees.” he says roughly. While her mouth was wrapped around him, he was mesmerized and couldn’t look away, but now he finds that he doesn’t even want to look at her face. He rolls the condom over his cock, giving it a few strokes before sinking into her from behind.

Tears stream down my face as I process all of what Chris just told me, and I can’t even BREATHE with how devastated I feel. It’s like a hole just got punched through my chest. I try and take a breath in, but it turns into a strangled sob and I drop my head into my hands and just let it out. 

Chris swallows thickly, wiping away his own tears as he watches me fall apart  across from him, wishing that he could do something.....ANYTHING to take all the pain away. To go back and undo everything that he did so you wouldn’t hurt. All he feels is deep, unrelenting shame and he knows in his gut that if you asked for a divorce after hearing all of his sins laid bare, he wouldn’t be surprised or even have the right to be devastated. He made his bed. 

I feel bile rising in my throat, and I stumble to my feet and race to the downstairs bathroom, falling to my knees and vomiting painfully as the image of my husband kissing this woman and fucking her run through my head. I barely notice Chris come into the bathroom until I feel him pulling my hair back and securing it with a hair tie, and rubbing my back softly. I can’t even find the breath or the energy to tell him to get away from me and drop dead. 

I’m so damn tired. Like, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this level of physical and mental exhaustion before. I sink back into the pillows a little more, and look over at Chris. Neither one of us have said a word since he picked me up off the bathroom floor and stood there with his arm around my waist as I brushed my teeth. That was 45 minutes ago. 

“It was just sex?” I ask. 

He exhales. “It was just sex. It was just once.”

I look back up at the ceiling and try and make sense of everything. 

“I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of it. I don’t understand why you would sleep with another woman.”

“I-I don’t know. I was lonely because we were fighting, and I missed you so goddamn much, and I was afraid of what was happening to us with all of the stress and I just......I got drunk, and I did a horrible thing. I did a horrible thing, and I wish that I could take it back. I wish I could take it back so bad it hurts. But I can’t. And I have to live with that for the rest of my life.” Chris says. 

I lift my eyes to meet his. “You were lonely? That’s your excuse? You were lonely, and you were upset. So you stuck your dick in another woman.” 

I stand at the kitchen sink and drain a glass of water in record time, and refill it. Turns out crying all day and then puking can kind of dehydrate you. I can sense Chris behind me, even though he doesn’t say anything. 

“Two years ago, a couple of weeks after you left for Africa to start shooting the movie, I found out I was pregnant. We hadn’t even officially started trying yet, so it came as a pretty big surprise. But I was so happy, and I couldn’t wait to tell you. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone, especially when you were so far away, so I was going to surprise you when you came home. I had it all planned out. I practiced telling you standing in front of the bathroom mirror, just so I could see the stupid happy look on my face.”

I feel tears prick my eyes, and I swallow down the sob that I feel threatening to come out. I turn towards Chris, and the look on his face is heartbreaking. 

“What?” he breathes out. 

“I was at a job.....I was shooting a birthday party for a little girl who was turning one. All I could think about was that that was going to be us eventually, and it made me so happy. Everything was fine, but then I started having horrible pain in my stomach. It got so bad that I collapsed, and the parents called 911 when they realized that I was bleeding. They did an ultrasound at the hospital, but they couldn’t find the baby’s heartbeat. I had already miscarried. You don’t know anything about feeling lonely until you’re by yourself laying on a table with your feet in stirrups while a doctor cleans out your uterus.”

Chris is sunk down in one of the kitchen chairs with his hand over his mouth and tears running down his face. This is the first time he’s hearing any of this. 

“Why didn’t-” his voice cracks, and he takes a minute and clears his throat before he tries again. “Why the hell didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come home!”

“Chris, you were 8,000 miles away from home. There wasn’t anything you could do. It was too late. They had to do the procedure as soon as possible. I didn’t.....I hadn’t told anyone else that I was pregnant. And I didn’t want to call your mom or sisters because I didn’t want them to find out. I knew if they found out they would call you, and you would be devastated. And I couldn’t do that to you when you were so far away. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. I was trying to protect you.”

The sound of his fist slamming against the heavy oak table makes me jump. 

“And what about over the last two years? Huh? Don’t you think that I had a right to know? Don’t you think I had the right as your husband, to be there with you? To comfort you? To mourn with you? To even have a fucking clue about what happened?” 

I take a deep breath. 

“You did.  You should have been there. You should have been there with me to hold my hand and cry with me and tell me that it was going to be okay, even though it was a lie. But you weren’t. You were doing your job. I don’t know if you realize it, but when you leave for work or press or whatever it is that you have to leave me for, you’re not the only one who’s lonely. You’re not the only one who has to deal with the silence. But you don’t see me going out and fucking someone else.”

Tears start to swim in my eyes again, and I suddenly feel like if I don’t get out of the house right now, I’m going to suffocate. I’ve been in here with Chris literally all day while we picked apart his affair, and I’m exhausted. I’m hurt and emotional and talking about the baby that we lost just made everything worse.

“I’m gonna go. I just.....I can’t handle anything else today. I know you’re probably really pissed off at me right now, and honestly, the feeling is mutual. Things are already about as bad as they can be, so I’m gonna leave before we have a chance to make it worse.”

The last thing I see before I walk out the door is Chris sitting at the table with his head in his hands, sobbing while Dodger sits on the floor next to him, whining in distress.  

 The Usual Suspects: @averyrogers83 @wordywarriorwrites @imanuglywombat @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @hlkwrites @reminiscingrogers @mom—nicole @jtargaryen18 @alexakeyloveloki @kelbabyblue @sarahp879 @moonlessnight14 @mojean13 @mrskokitztelford @artisticrogers1972 @southerngracela @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @mybesttobobcratchit @gracethegeek9902 @mdemontespan1667 @marvelfansworld @capslut2014 @dispatchvampire @jamielea81 @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ @southerngracela​ @what-is-your-plan-today @letsdisneythings​ @theladybiers @lexeeehhh @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ @autumnrose40 @donutloverxo​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @jessaywahh-blog​@smediumsmeatbae @before-we-get-started​ @lizette50 @littlegasps @rageshots @what-is-your-backupplan-today @clairebubbles @patzammit @sweet--catrastophe @pandaxnienke @redhairedfeistynerd @hails270105 @syms-things-5 @chezdricks @denisemarieangelina @christ0pher-evans @supersquirrel1996 @thumbeliina​

[cherryonigiri]

nanami kento [evenings with you]

nanami kento x reader || cw: descriptions of blood/injuries, light angst

a/n: this is just self-indulgent writing for me but i'm v stressed about school rn and this is the result. just imagine that y/n is a bio/medical phd candidate lol.

Nanami can tell that you're stressed. Usually you savor the nights he's not on overtime, asking him about work and refusing to leave his side for most of the evening. He's used to you being attentive, so the fact that you've asked him the same question twice within the last ten minutes is already setting alarm bells ringing in his head. You're constantly fiddling with something, or flashing furtive glances towards the bedroom when you think he's not paying attention.

It only gets worse after dinner. You insist on washing up, something about how you want him to 'enjoy his night off.' Nanami compromises, silently grabbing a towel and drying the dishes. It's clear that your mind is elsewhere. Your hands scrub the porcelain on autopilot, and he can hear you muttering under your breath.

Every now and then you'll mutter a list of tasks under your breath. Nanami remembers you mentioning that things were hectic in lab. You're almost always still working when gets home from work, even when it's well past when you eat your dinner. It's clear that you've had a busy day-- the apartment is far more cluttered than it usually is. There are post-it and pieces of scrap paper stuck to every single surface, and a forgotten pile of folded laundry rests on the couch.

An intense burning sensation across your palm causes you cry out. "Shit!" You drop the knife you were washing in favor of cradling your already bleeding hand. Nanami is instantly by your side, firmly pressing the dishcloth against your cut. There is a worrying amount of red seeping into the fabric, so he silently ushers you to the bathroom.

It's a strange reversal of roles. He's used to being the one leaning leaning against the counter while you bandage his wounds. Instead, it's you who is perched on the marble surface, wincing as he dabs an antiseptic soaked cotton ball against your injury. "Sorry, I'm almost done," he says when you let out a loud hiss.

"It's fine," you reply, sheepishly looking away. "I should have been paying more attention."

Nanami chooses to only respond with a nonchalant hum, focusing on cleaning your palm. The two of you sit there in comfortable silence while he applies ointment to the cut, adding gauze once he's finished. It's only when he reaches for the bandages that he decides to ask. "What's stressing you out?"

Your eyes widen as you realize you've been caught. Nanami is rarely home early these days, especially since he's been mentoring Itadori on behalf of Gojo. (Not that you mind - in the few times you've met Itadori through video call with Nanami, the pink-haired student's sunny disposition has never failed to cheer you up.) When he'd texted you saying he'd be home by dinner, you'd jumped at the opportunity to spend some much needed time with him. You'd pulled out the stops, cooking something a little fancier, and intent on spending the earlier part of the evening cuddling with him. Secretly, you had planned to sneak out of bed after he'd fallen asleep (he always goes to bed early on days like these) and finish preparing for the gauntlet of meetings and presentations you had tomorrow. It was your fault for putting off the tasks, and you didn't want to let your own bad habits get in the way of some quality time with your boyfriend.

"It's nothing, I just have a lot on my plate tomorrow." You do your best to laugh it off, but quickly trail off once when you catch Nanami's deadpan expression. He's always been too good at seeing through your white lies. "I put off some work..." A raised eyebrow from him prompts you to continue, "And I was planning on doing it after you went to bed..." You can't help it when your face scrunches into a pout. After all, now your carefully-laid deception has been revealed.

When Nanami bursts into amused chuckles, you're momentarily surprised, but quickly go back to sulking. "Stop laughing at me Ken!" you whine, "I'm a--"

"Self-aware procrastinator," he finishes your sentence with an amused grin. "I know love, I know. I've seen you write far too many papers within 24-hours of a deadline to be surprised." He presses an affectionate kiss against your wrist.

You scowl at your boyfriend, snatching your bandaged hand away from his grasp. "I'm glad that my suffering is entertaining for at least one person." You stomp back to the bedroom in faux-anger, smiling when you hear Nanami's footsteps not far behind you.

When he steps into the bedroom Nanami drapes his frame over your shoulders, his warm torso nestled against your back. "It is one of your more...endearing traits," he murmurs into your ear before pressing a kiss into the crook of your neck. You can feel your cheeks and ears tingle at his words of affection.

"Sometimes you can be such a sweet talker," you mumble to yourself while you change into your pajamas. This week it's been an old Jujutsu tech hoodie and a pair of well-worn athletic shorts.

"Only for you," Nanami replies while he undoes the buttons of his outfit, chucking his tan pants and blue button up into the laundry basket in the corner. He dons a pair of sweatpants before returning your side to recapture you in another affectionate hug. It's a well kept secret of the Kento-Y/N household that Nanami Kento likes to lounge around shirtless in the privacy of his apartment. (You've been sworn to secrecy, but only because your boyfriend claims that Gojo and the students would have a field day teasing him if this information were to be made public amongst the jujutsu sorcerer community.)

Turning around, you wrap your arms around his waist, burying your nose against his torso and taking in his comforting scent. It's been so long since the two of you have had a moment to yourselves, and for once your hectic thoughts are silenced in favor of sharing a moment of calm bliss with Nanami. He hums in appreciation, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your hips.

"Do you want to watch anything tonight?" you ask after a few seconds of silence.

"No," he replies. "I was actually planning on reading the briefing Ichiji just sent me. Gojo apparently has another scheme up his sleeve." You giggle when your boyfriend lets out a pained sigh. On more than one occasion, your boyfriend has ranted to you about Gojo's unorthodox approach to exorcism. "I swear that idiot shaves a year off my lifespan every time I go on a mission with him," Nanami complains. "He's taking away the years I could spend in Malaysia."

You hum thoughtfully before responding, "Then do you mind--"

Once again, Nanami already knows what you're going to say. "Just remember to bring your laptop charger, I know you have a thousand tabs open on your computer right now," he says while exiting to the living room. After a few moments you join him, overburdened laptop and charger in hand. You both take your usual spots in the living room, him resting comfortably in the center of the loveseat and you sitting on a floor cushion, nestled between his legs. Soon you've fallen into a groove, fingers steadily typing on the keyboard. The warmth of Nanami's presence next to you brings a sense of calm, giving you the grounding focus you need to finish off the last of your tasks.

As he thumbs through the printouts Ichiji gave him, Nanami can't help but let his eyes drift towards you every now and then. You look so adorable when you work. From the way your brow furrows whenever you reread a line, to the way you unconsciously chew on your lip when you scrutinize your draft for any errors. Every now and then he'll gently run his fingers through your hair, relishing the content sighs you let out in response.

It only takes about another hour before you're (finally) closing all your tabs (he still doesn't know why your laptop hasn't crashed yet). As you scroll through social media, your head begins to droop. Soon enough you've fallen asleep, breaths coming in soft and even puffs as you rest against his thigh. Smiling to himself, he puts down his papers and gently lifts your body from the floor. He's careful not to wake you as he slowly makes his way back to the bedroom.

Setting you on the bed, he tucks you under the blankets before lying beside you. The moonlight coming through your window softly illuminates your relaxed features, and he softly traces the outline of your face with his thumb. As he continues to caress your cheek, his eyes are drawn to the dark circles under your eyes. He rarely falls asleep after you these days - between his physically demanding occupation and the ever growing number of things you are responsible for at work- he's often the first to fall asleep from sheer exhaustion while you work well into the night. Not to mention that he's had to spend an increasing number of nights away from you, either on challenging missions or accompanying Gojo's students. And while he knows most of your stress comes from being a student, he can't help but feel guilty about all the additional distress his status as a jujutsu sorcerer has caused you.

When you started dating him, you insisted that Shoko teach you how to suture. He hates how much your stitches have improved since then. The neatness of your stitches is a constant reminder of how much you've endured because of him. When he hears you trying to muffle your sobs into a pillow, he swears he can feel his heart crack in his chest, hurting more than any kind of physical wound from battle. Those nights end with him holding you tightly to his bandaged chest, murmuring reassurances and affection into the crown of your head until you've calmed down enough to fall into a fitful sleep. Even when you're unconscious he'll still continue, words morphing into apologies for the sadness he's inflicted upon your shoulders.

Feeling his eyelids being to droop, Nanami presses one last kiss against your forehead before laying down. He wraps his arms around your waist, surrounding you with warmth, hoping that his presence will be enough to keep your nightmares away, at least for tonight. I love you, y/n is the last thought he has before he drifts away, ready to dream of a tropical sunset and a peaceful future with you by his side.

[yanderemommabean]

Okay but consider! Hawks was the lead in a band. He was the lead for years, from early teens into adulthood and then he just...burned out. It wasn't drugs or sex (or maybe it was, up to you), but just how fake it was. He couldn't do anything without approval from corporate, and all these fans, they didn't like him, they liked the persona they made for him. And it got to him, bit by bit. He's a shell of himself when he meets his darling, and suddenly it's like looking into the face of a muse.

Another concert, another ten hours on his feet as he has to do make up, practice, make sure the instruments work with the crew, and of course make the fans nearly wet themselves with his appearance and voice alone. Every day it’s “OH MY GOD IT’S HAWKS” or “IT’S HIM IT’S HIM IT’S HIM!”.

They don’t even really care about how he feel about being smooshed into selfies and made into clout fuel for people who only want the most likes. Which to be fair, he’s apart of that group sometimes, he might have wings but he’s far from a saint, but even to him it gets a bit much with how much they only want to gain attention.

It’s not nearly as luxurious as people assume. He has a contract, has to make an album every few months otherwise his fame and band are dropped like a bag of trash into a junkyard. He’s stressed an unable to make any new songs, and the fact he has to preform while trying to perfect his newest works drains him considerably.

He doesn’t have time to be himself. He doesn’t have time or luxury to just be Keigo. No. He has to keep up this act and be the flirtatious, rebelling bad boy all the fans masturbate too and fantasize about. (Kudos to the fic writers by the way! He’s seen some good shit!).

Hawks vs Keigo. No one knows the real him. They all go for the media showered, Instagram famous persona with his band mates tagging alongside. Keigo is a more laid back, needing personal space, wanting time alone to think kind of person. He doesn’t mind doing things and going out, he just gets his daily quota of social interaction in a matter of minutes.

So when you have millions of fans wanting your attention and grabbing onto you all the fucking time, you can imagine how unwilling and uninterested he is in even preforming or socializing.

Tonight was no different, Keigo and the band sang and played their hearts out, got a few fans some autographs and let their ears ache from how loud the fans would squeal. Yeah yeah yeah same old phrases spout with new faces.

Remembering there was a bar nearby, Keigo decided it was time for a few drinks. Or a hundred. He fidgets for the sunglasses in his bag, and slides on a different shirt to head out in, trying to make his hair style different as well when he walks by a window and sees it’s still spiked. It wasn’t the most convincing disguise but it would do.

Sliding into a seat near the corner of the bar, Keigo slumps with a huff, letting his hands run down his face while he tries to let his mind slow down and soak in what’s been happening all day. The concert, the meet and greet, the signing, the interviews, the managers constant reminder that he needed new songs and soon.

“Need a breather?” Your voice mused, catching his attention for a second. Ah. Great. A fan. Time to put on the mask again. He gives a wry expression and nods his head “even party boys need a break. Care to help one out?”.

Ah. Weak flirting. That would never go by with the press. Where’s his skill?!

You noticed the tired expression in his eyes, how he forced a smile to keep your attention on his more well known persona. You didn’t buy it. You’ve seen that look in too many people to let it slide and go unnoticed. This man needed a beer and needed one pronto.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you sit in the seat next to him, drumming your fingers on the counter as you try to think of an answer that wasn’t too forward. “Listen...I can tell you’re super exhausted. You can drop the act, ya know?”. You cough, face turning a bit red as you realize that you’re talking to a celebrity. You keep telling yourself that it doesn’t matter, you’re both human and capable of communicating.

It shouldn’t be a big deal to speak your mind to the hottest, most sought after singer in the world. Who are you kidding? Of course it is.

Keigo arches an eyebrow at your statement, and sits closer to the counter. It’s odd having someone see through his act. Sure his disguise sucked and anyone within ten feet could tell he was Hawks, but to have someone see he wasn’t who the media said, it was a shocking but well welcomed breath of fresh air.

“You...heh you cut to the chase don’t ya, kid?” He said with mirth.

“Well I hate bullshit. I-I would rather be upfront and honest.” You admit sheepishly, looking away from his hazel eyes timidly. “Didnt mean to offend you or anything” you added, hands shaking.

Offend? He’s the exact opposite! Finally, someone who’s honest and not conceded! He’s only just met you and he’s felt more of a connection here than with his own band! “Nah nah! You’re fine! I love bluntness. It’s nice to have every now and again when you’re used to bullshit”.

You giggle at that, nodding in agreement. Soon you two break more of the ice, discussing the most random but humorous things, not noticing how Keigo’s eyes gloss over with awe and admiration. It’s been so long since he could let go and be himself, he never wants to leave your company. It’s an ache in his mind to think about since he’s got to be back on the tour bus in less than two hours.

“Hey-“ his hand snatches your phone from your hands as you were replying to a friend “-I’m giving you my number ok? I’m about to have to head out and I would rather die than miss talking to you”.

As he types the number into your contacts, you couldn’t help but freeze up. Was this actually happening? You just spent hours chatting away with Hawks, and are now getting his contact information?! Surely you were drugged. Had to be! No fucking way is this happening like some cheap hallmark Christmas plot!

“Y/N right?” He slides the phone back over to you, giving you his signature flirtatious grin “I better hear from you tonight. I’ll lose sleep if I think a new friend is hurt or ignoring me”.

You blush even harder, and nod, not being able to really speak. He stands, patting your shoudler as he slides his sunglasses back on “Oh! I almost forgot-“ he pulls out a wad of cash, slamming it on the counter “For the drinks. It’s the least I can do for someone as entertaining as you”.

You cover your face in your hands and try to stop the flurry of emotions bubbling up. You thank him, hearing him chuckle as he leaves the bar, not seeing the smile on his face as he walks back to where the tour bus was parked.

———————————————

Days go by, and every chance Keigo gets he’s messaging you, becoming antsy when you don’t respond within seconds. Sometimes he sends hundreds of messages a day, sometimes he’s on the phone with you for hours, or simply stalking your social media when you tell him you’re going to bed.

As long as he interacts with you, he’s sated and calm. Thinking up songs has never felt so easy, each day he makes a new hit, making the managers happy that he finally quit acting so down in the dumps. Months go by, and he’s still on the top charts, being the idol fanboys and girls pair themselves with.

But he doesn’t pay attention to that. He’s focused on you and only you. That shy encounter with you has changed his perspective, and all he wants to do is be with you. Flirting with you was easy enough but you always turned him down, saying things that didn’t make sense.

You’d say “Oh I don’t think we’d be compatible...you’d get tired of me” or “I think you’re just needing a hook up, but I’m flattered!”.

You’re crazy. He could never get tired of you. What will it take to get you to be with him and travel the world together?! Perhaps you just need more persuasion? A romantic gift? A gesture that proves he’s serious?

Well if that’s what you need then he’ll happily supply it. Just give him a few days, he’ll make sure you see how serious he is about being yours (and you being his. Only his). Should he make a song about what he loves about you the most? Maybe a song on how he fell for you?

A song on what he wants to do with you and your body? Or maybe you need a bit of danger, and need him to state what he’s willing to do to get you.

He’ll figure it out. Soon you’ll be his forever muse, he just needs to serenade you first.

(This was shit I know I know but I love this AU so much! -Mommabean )

[thenewteentitanscomics]

So yeah. George Perez. I have to words, so here are his.

From George to his fans, friends and extended family, please read below. This page will serve as a place to connect with George as well as receive updates. Please, respect the privacy of George and his family at this difficult time and reach out ONLY through this avenue.

Thank you and please see below:

To all my fans, friends and extended family,

It’s rather hard to believe that it’s been almost three years since I formally announced my retirement from producing comics due to my failing vision and other infirmities brought on primarily by my diabetes. At the time I was flattered and humbled by the number of tributes and testimonials given me by my fans and peers. The kind words spoken on those occasions were so heartwarming that I used to quip that “the only thing missing from those events was me lying in a box.”

It was amusing at the time, I thought.

Now, not so much. On November 29th I received confirmation that, after undergoing surgery for a blockage in my liver, I have Stage 3 Pancreatic Cancer. It is surgically inoperable and my estimated life expectancy is between 6 months to a year. I have been given the option of chemotherapy and/or radiation therapy, but after weighing all the variables and assessing just how much of my remaining days would be eaten up by doctor visits, treatments, hospital stays and dealing with the often stressful and frustrating bureaucracy of the medical system, I’ve opted to just let nature take its course and I will enjoy whatever time I have left as fully as possible with my beautiful wife of over 40 years, my family, friends and my fans.

Since I received my diagnosis and prognosis, those in my inner circle have given me so much love, support and help, both practical and emotional. They’ve given me peace.

There will be some business matters to take care of before I go. I am already arranging with my art agent to refund the money paid for sketches that I can no longer finish. And, since, despite only having one working eye, I can still sign my name, I hope to coordinate one last mass book signing to help make my passing a bit easier. I also hope that I will be able to make one last public appearance wherein I can be photographed with as many of my fans as possible, with the proviso that I get to hug each and every one of them. I just want to be able to say goodbye with smiles as well as tears.

I know that many of you will have questions to ask or comments to make, and rather than fueling the fires of speculation and well-meaning but potentially harmful miscommunication, I will be returning to the arena of social media by starting a new Facebook account where fans and friends can communicate with me or my designated rep directly for updates and clarification.

For media and press inquiries, please use the contact information on the page as well. Please respect the privacy of my wife and family at this time and use the Facebook page rather than reaching out through other channels.

I may not be able to respond as quickly as I would like since I will be endeavoring to get as much outside pleasure as I can in the time allotted me, but I will do my best. Kind words would also be greatly appreciated. More details to follow once it’s up and running.

Well, that’s it for now. This is not a message I enjoyed writing, especially during the Holiday Season, but, oddly enough, I’m feeling the Christmas spirit more now than I have in many years. Maybe it’s because it will likely be my last. Or maybe because I am enveloped in the loving arms of so many who love me as much as I love them. It’s quite uplifting to be told that you’ve led a good life, that you’ve brought joy to so many lives and that you’ll be leaving this world a better place because you were part of it. To paraphrase Lou Gehrig: “Some people may think I got a bad break, but today, I feel like the luckiest man on the face of the Earth.”

Take care of yourselves—and thank you.

George Pérez

December 7th, 2021

[wannabe-fic-writer]

WandaNat x Reader : Misunderstanding

Summary: Everything is not what it seems.

Warnings: Assumed Cheating, Mild Language

Word Count: 2,490

* * * * * *

The apartment is bathed in darkness when Wanda and Natasha get back from their mission. 

A heavy sigh leaves Wanda’s lips at the realization of why it is this way. 

Equally as disappointed, is Natasha.

This isn’t the first time the two have returned late at night to your absence. It’s a familiar feeling of disappointment but due to it being a new occurrence, they’re still shocked over it.

Even though Wanda and Natasha have each other, so they aren’t alone when they come in, they still want you to be there to come home to. And that was the point.

Two years ago they’d asked you to be in this relationship with them because, while they are happy together, you make them happier.

With current events though, they aren’t sure if you still feel the same.

At first you’d been head over heels for them. Greeting them with dinner when they came home late or breakfast if they came home early. Pampering them with wine and bubble baths knowing that their missions were hard. Cuddling them until the stresses of their jobs faded away and they fell asleep.

Now, you come home just as late as them or later. Instead of wine and baths all they get from you is a note saying you were out. Cuddles were interrupted by phone calls throughout the night. 

The women didn’t want to assume the worst(that you were cheating) but signs were starting to point in that direction. And the thought of that weighed heavily on them as they made their way to bed and held each other. 

They’d heard you come in hours later but made no move to greet you. Even as they felt the pressure of your lips on their foreheads.

Due to how they went to bed, they were beyond irritated with waking up without you. Your side of the bed just barely warmed by your body heat, which begs the question of how long you’d been gone. 

Natasha heaves a sigh, pushing herself up against the headboard with a clear frown on her face. Wanda, equally as annoyed, chooses to hide hers in favor of comforting her girlfriend. 

Wanda wraps her arms around Natasha and lays her head on her lap,“ I know it’s bothersome,” she begins, both their minds on the same thing,“ but it’s Y/n. We’ve always been able to freely communicate with her so maybe we should ju-”

She stops and sits up quickly as their bedroom door opens.

You walk into the room backwards, each step small and slow. The second you’re all the way in the room, you turn, and they see the tray in your hands. 

The food atop it becoming more distinguishable the closer you get.

You stop just at the side of the bed and smile warmly at them,“ good morning loves.” You say, setting the tray over Wanda’s lap.  

Homemade waffles with strawberry glaze and whipped cream, stuffed crepes, eggs, bacon, coffee, and juice. 

Both women’s eyes watch you as you ease on to the bed, careful not to jostle the drinks too much, and face them with crossed legs.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, noticing the way they’re looking at you,“ I hadn’t planned to come home so late last night. Time got away from me and by the time I came home you were already asleep.” 

They hear your apology but coupled with your excuse, they failed to see how sorry you were. Being truly sorry, you would’ve just apologized, not justify what you’d done. 

“We u-”

Wanda is interupted by the buzzing of your phone. You lean over and read wahtever was sent to you, the corner of your lips tugging up but you fight the smile, and set the phone back down, screen down.

Green eyes narrow at the action. The fought smile and hiding the screen. And she hated the fact that you cheating comes into her mind but she’s not seeing what else this could mean. 

“Okay, I’m listening.” You train your gaze on Wanda. 

But she’s barely opened her mouth when your phone buzzes yet again and Wanda is about to reach over and grab it but you move faster than her, purposely rising off the bed,“ I got it.” 

One glance at the screen and you’re leaving the bedroom. 

Little did you know, Wanda’s heart was hurting at your actions more and more while Natasha’s hardened. 

When you come back in, you move with a purpose. Pulling on clean clothes and grabbing your things. 

“I’m so sorry, I have to go handle something. It shouldn’t take me too long. But I want to make it up to you both. Dinner tonight?” A hopeful expression sits on your face.

Still full of love for you, Wanda agrees with a nod. 

Smiling brightly, you shoot over and kiss their cheeks, and are gone just as quick.

Wanda sighs and slouches against the headboard. And the second they hear the front door close, Natasha is up and out of bed.

“You going to leave me too?” Wanda asks, eyeing her other girlfriend. 

Natasha pulls on a pair of pants and lays some on the bed,“ no you’re coming with me.” 

A frown etches the younger woman’s brow.

“We deserve answers right?” Wanda nods.“ It’s clear Y/n isn’t going to tell us what’s going on because she doesn’t even think there’s a problem. So we’re going to follow her.” 

“That doesn’t seem like the best idea.” Wanda sighs.

Knowing why Wanda is disagreeing, Natasha sits beside her feet,“ lyubov moya, part of me isn’t sure about it either but I have to know.”

Wanda hears the hidden heartbreak in Natasha’s words and that’s enough to move her to get dressed as well. 

You may have been hiding things but, and it’s like you made it too easy, you’re still sharing your location with them. And so they follow that to the very spot that breaks their hearts.

Apparently what you “had to handle” is a meeting with two other women. 

From their spot parked across the street, Wanda and Natasha watch you smile, hug, and hold hands with these women. Women they’d seen on your social media and a few pictures you kept around.

Natasha’s jaw set as she snapped her gaze away from the scene in front of her to her other girlfriend. Her heart breaking even more at the single tear that rolls down her cheek.

Reaching out quickly, Natasha swipes the tear off Wanda’s face, and leans forward to press a kiss to her forehead. 

“Can we just go.” Wanda sighs and Natasha is quick to nod.

Your brows push together at the sound of screeching tires and you look outside the large glass window to see the black sports car ripping down the street.

New York. You think with a shake of your head, before turning back to face two of your closest friends.

The second you look at them, your smile is back,“ so they’re ready? We can just go pick them up?”

Eagerly, they nod, and together the three of you leave the little café. 

Using the excess amount of time you have going from Manhattan to Brooklyn with the horrible New York traffic, you go over the plan with them one last time.

It had taken you months to construct the perfect way to propose to Natasha and Wanda.

You knew it wouldn’t be ordinary. Hell you’re three women in a relationship, two of which are superheroes. Nothing about this is ordinary. It was all special, as were they.

So you’d planned and replanned and over thought every detail.

The three of you(Wanda, Natasha, and yourself) loved nighttime, the stars that littered the sky and the calm that washed over you in it’s scattered silence. 

So of course you planned to propose at night. And had spent a number of long nights finding the perfect park, it had to have a clear view of the stars, and at least a semi-private space for you to pop the question.

Then having to find a restaurant close to the chosen park. 

The last thing you’d done was get the rings. They needed to perfectly embody Natasha and Wanda.

The number of calls and texts between yourself and your friends about the rings were through the roof. So frequent that you’d had to hide your screen from your girlfriends so they wouldn’t stumble across a message that ruined the surprise. 

As much as you hated keeping it secrets from your girlfriends, this one is worth it. And you hadn’t been blind to how it looked. Late nights, secret conversations, and hidden messages. 

But you know they trust you. They know you better than you know yourself most times. And with everything ready, tonight was the night.

After finally having picked up Wanda’s and Natasha’s rings, you got dressed at your friend’s house, and on the way home you picked up two large bouquets of roses.

Knowing how important tonight is, you take a deep breath to still yourself, before walking into your apartment.

It was unusually dark, save for the wavering orange glow coming from the living room.

You step into the room, finding your girls on the couch across from the lit fireplace, and smile.“ You certainly don’t look like two women with dinner plans.” You joke, walking around the couch.

Every thought you had had vanishes when you see Wanda’s tear stricken face and the harden expression on Natasha’s face.

“Wh-what happened?” You set the flowers on the table and sit beside them.

Going to place a comforting hand on Wanda’s knee falls short when she flinches away. 

A frown covers your brows, confusion in your eyes,“ Wan- I- what’s wrong?” Had you done something?

You knew being away so much recently wasn’t the best but had it really been this bad.

“Please talk to me.” 

The pleading in your voice makes Wanda frown. She didn’t understand why you sounded so hurt. As if she’d done something to you.

“Now you want to talk?” Her tone is cold, effectively making the confusion in you grow.“ Why don’t you go do that with your new girlfriends.”

Taken aback by her words, you almost jerk away from her.“ My what?” You look to Natasha who seems to have the same thoughts.“ I don’t have new girlfriends. The only girls I’m with are you two. And I would never cheat-”

“Save the lies Y/n. We’re not stupid.” Natasha snaps, hand soothingly rubbing Wanda’s back despite her angry tone.“ All the late nights, hiding your phone, secret conversations. And we followed you today. We saw you with them. You’ve known each other for a while so how long have you been dating them and us?” 

Being hit with so many accusations is reeling. More than that though you hurt. 

Had their trust in you really gone away all in the span of a few weeks? Trust you had spent years building and strengthening? Had you really driven them to this point?

You withhold your tears.“ That wasn’t a date. It was a meeting. We were-”

There is really no reason to keep it hidden. They think you were cheating on them. Now it’s lose them or propose.

“Look,” you scoot forward and try to catch their gazes,“ believe me I know how suspicious and unfaithful my actions have been lately. I’m not denying that. In fact I hated keeping secrets from you two but it was the only way I thought to handle it.”

Digging into the pockets of your jacket, you produce the two velvet black boxes.

After checking which rings are which, you set the open boxes on their legs.

Both women freeze, eyes stuck on the jewelry in front of them.

“There  was a whole plan to propose under the stars after having dinner. All those late nights were spent scouting the perfect place to do that and then finding the right restaurant. And all the hidden messages and phone calls were to discuss choosing the perfect rings.” 

To prove your point, you whip out your phone and click on to your group chat with your friends. Showing it to Wanda and Natasha as you slowly scroll through it.

Occasionally some random meme or gif popped up but majority of the messages were directed toward your plans to engage. The most recent ones being two pictures of the very rings sitting in front of them(time stamped at this morning) and wishes of good luck.  

Putting your phone on the table, you hesitantly reach for their hands. And they take just as slowly give them to you.

“I hate that I’ve made you two think that I would even dare cheat on you and I’m so incredibly sorry for being secretiv-”

Wanda shakes her head, tears spilling for a different reason this time,“ you don’t have to apologize.”

“But I do,” you nod,“ my reason for keeping secrets may be okay but I clearly should’ve gone about it another way. No matter my intentions,” you look from her green eyes to Natasha’s,“ I put my loyalty to you in question and I hate that. I love you both more than those words will ever explain.” 

Just as much as you see the mistake in your actions, your girlfriends see the mistake in theirs. 

Natasha drops her head,“ I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have followed you. It was my idea I just let my thoughts carry me.” 

“Me too.” Wanda adds, squeezing your hand,“ we both trust you and we let assumptions cloud that.” 

You’re quiet for a moment and the women in front of you frown at the smirk that forms on your lips.

“All is forgiven but only if you two agree to marry me.” 

They smile, both nodding, Wanda more enthusiastically so.

After you’ve secured the rings on their fingers they take a moment to admire them.

“You do know that legal you can’t marry both of us right?” Natasha points out.

Which you do know but,“ I don’t give a damn about legalities Tash. This is more about promising to spend the rest of our lives together.” 

“Well I promise. Now and forever.” Wanda says, that gorgeous smile on her face. 

Leaning forward, you gently grab her chin, and press a passionate but short kiss to her lips. 

Then turning to Natasha. 

Playfully rolling her eyes, she says,“ I promise.” 

Wanda squeals and throws her arms around Natasha, pressing kisses to her face. 

When she pulls away, both women scoot apart and gesture for you to sit between them. The second you do, Natasha kisses you sweetly, and both women cuddle into your sides, their hands lacing on your lap.

In this position, with your fiancés at your sides, you know now more than ever that, through misunderstandings, fights, and all, this is what you want for the rest of your life. 

* * * * * *

[dirtyriver]

I posted 5 578 times in 2021

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3918 posts reblogged (70%)

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My Top Posts in 2021

#5

870 notes • Posted 2021-02-07 00:22:50 GMT

#4

1137 notes • Posted 2021-02-26 19:31:03 GMT

#3

From George to his fans, friends and extended family, please read below. This page will serve as a place to connect with George as well as receive updates. Please, respect the privacy of George and his family at this difficult time and reach out ONLY through this avenue. Thank you and please see below:

To all my fans, friends and extended family,

It's rather hard to believe that it's been almost three years since I formally announced my retirement from producing comics due to my failing vision and other infirmities brought on primarily by my diabetes. At the time I was flattered and humbled by the number of tributes and testimonials given me by my fans and peers. The kind words spoken on those occasions were so heartwarming that I used to quip that "the only thing missing from those events was me lying in a box."

It was amusing at the time, I thought.

Now, not so much. On November 29th I received confirmation that, after undergoing surgery for a blockage in my liver, I have Stage 3 Pancreatic Cancer. It is surgically inoperable and my estimated life expectancy is between 6 months to a year. I have been given the option of chemotherapy and/or radiation therapy, but after weighing all the variables and assessing just how much of my remaining days would be eaten up by doctor visits, treatments, hospital stays and dealing with the often stressful and frustrating bureaucracy of the medical system, I've opted to just let nature take its course and I will enjoy whatever time I have left as fully as possible with my beautiful wife of over 40 years, my family, friends and my fans.

Since I received my diagnosis and prognosis, those in my inner circle have given me so much love, support and help, both practical and emotional. They've given me peace.

There will be some business matters to take care of before I go. I am already arranging with my art agent to refund the money paid for sketches that I can no longer finish. And, since, despite only having one working eye, I can still sign my name, I hope to coordinate one last mass book signing to help make my passing a bit easier. I also hope that I will be able to make one last public appearance wherein I can be photographed with as many of my fans as possible, with the proviso that I get to hug each and every one of them. I just want to be able to say goodbye with smiles as well as tears.

I know that many of you will have questions to ask or comments to make, and rather than fueling the fires of speculation and well-meaning but potentially harmful miscommunication, I will be returning to the arena of social media by starting a new Facebook account where fans and friends can communicate with me or my designated rep directly for updates and clarification.

For media and press inquiries, please use the contact information on the page as well. Please respect the privacy of my wife and family at this time and use the Facebook page rather than reaching out through other channels.

I may not be able to respond as quickly as I would like since I will be endeavoring to get as much outside pleasure as I can in the time allotted me, but I will do my best. Kind words would also be greatly appreciated. More details to follow once it's up and running.

Well, that's it for now. This is not a message I enjoyed writing, especially during the Holiday Season, but, oddly enough, I'm feeling the Christmas spirit more now than I have in many years. Maybe it's because it will likely be my last. Or maybe because I am enveloped in the loving arms of so many who love me as much as I love them. It's quite uplifting to be told that you've led a good life, that you've brought joy to so many lives and that you'll be leaving this world a better place because you were part of it. To paraphrase Lou Gehrig: "Some people may think I got a bad break, but today, I feel like the luckiest man on the face of the Earth."

Take care of yourselves—and thank you.

George Pérez

December 7th, 2021

1342 notes • Posted 2021-12-07 18:27:05 GMT

#2

That's what I do I read books I drink tea and I know things

2317 notes • Posted 2021-01-03 01:44:45 GMT

#1

2777 notes • Posted 2021-12-12 12:12:08 GMT

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