#apparently 'you did yourself proud in the interview. you were really impressive and the presentation was memorable and professional '

[chqnified]

BESTIES! I GOT THE JOB!!!!!!

[storiesforallfandoms]

tabloid bs ~ eminem

word count: 1822

request?: yes!

@imaginesforjohnnydepp​ “hi! i was wondering if you could do an age gap eminem x reader imagine where the reader is a singer and is the daughter of a very successful actor and singer and there are rumors of her parents not liking marshall making the rounds in the tabloids?”

description: in which she decides to shut down bullshit tabloid rumors regarding her boyfriend and her parents

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing, age gap (totally legal though, we’ll say the reader is about 25)

masterlist (one, two)

Being the daughter of two incredibly famous actors meant you were in the spotlight from a young age. Paparazzi, crazy fans, fake friends, none of it was new to you by the time you decided you wanted to try your hand in singing.

You were nervous at first, worrying that either you’d only blow up because of who your parents were, or that everyone would shut down your career because of who your parents were. You were happily surprised to learn that everyone genuinely liked you and your music, despite your parentage.

As your career began to skyrocket, you were contacted by none other than Eminem asking to make a song with you. Apparently he was so impressed by your talent that he wanted to get in contact with you and ask you himself for a collab, something that he only did with people who ended up becoming close friends of his (Skylar Grey, Rihanna, 50 Cent, Ed Sheeran, etc. etc.).

You ended up following this trend, except in a much more extreme way. You did end up becoming close with him, but not as just a friend. Within a month of doing your collaboration you found yourself going on a date with Marshall, and within a year you were basically living with him.

The press had a field day when they found out. You were 20 years younger than Marshall, and he was only two years younger than your mom. Of course people didn’t react to kindly to this at first, but it wasn’t as hard to ignore these things as you expected it to be.

The thing that was hard to ignore, though, was the constant stories that were published about your parents hating Marshall, and hating your relationship.

This couldn’t be farther from the truth. Your parents loved Marshall, both as a musician and as their daughter’s boyfriend. Your dad and Marshall got along really well, and your mom basically viewed him as a new best friend from the moment he walked through the door.

These rumors were harder to ignore when they were brought up so often in interviews and during livestreams or Q&As. You were starting to get annoyed with it and you wanted to make it stop.

Lucky for you, the person interviewing you at that moment gave you the perfect segway to shutting those rumors down.

“I know this is a bit of a private topic,” she started, “and if you don’t want to talk about it we can just move on, but there’s something circulating in the rumor mill regarding you and your boyfriend.”

“Of course there is,” you said, rolling your eyes in a playful manner. You were trying to remain lighthearted about it all, but you were feeling the annoyance bubble up inside of you already.

“There’s a story going around that you blew off your dad’s birthday because he wouldn’t let you bring Eminem to the celebration.”

You felt your face heating up with anger. Oh, so now the media was trying to present you as a bratty singer now too? Saying you skipped your own father’s birthday due to your boyfriend?

No, they were not getting away with that one.

You pulled your phone from your pocket and quickly opened it. The interviewer looked at you in confusion as you scrolled through your pictures before holding your phone towards the nearest camera.

“Here’s a picture of me and my dad two days after his birthday,” you said. “It was taken by Marshall, because the three of us had a special celebration alone. My flight home was delayed and I had to miss my dad’s actual birthday, in which my boyfriend was actually invited to, by the way. Dad specifically asked if Marshall would be coming, even jokingly told me that I had to take him. So no, I didn’t purposely miss my dad’s birthday because of my boyfriend, I would never miss dad’s birthday on purpose.”

“All you had to say was no,” the interviewer mumbled, regarding her notes to move along to the next question.

“No,” you said. “I’m not keeping this one short and sweet. I’m tired of all these stupid, untrue things being said about me and my boyfriend and my parents. Mom and dad don’t hate Marshall, I don’t purposely not see my parents because of him. There’s no hate at all between any of us, and it makes me angry that tabloids make those accusations without any evidence just for clicks. This is someone’s real life, not just some fiction for someone to fuck around with.”

“You sound very passionate about this.”

You scoffed. “Of course I am! Ever since Marshall and I have started dating people have been saying shit about him and my parents and I don’t understand why. There’s never been any ill will between my parents and Marshall, not even any implied ill will. People just like to make up stories so they have a good headline to get views and get people talking.”

“Well, although nothing has been ever been confirmed, you can’t say you don’t understand where those rumors came from. No one wants their kid dating someone who is basically their age, no matter how famous that person is. It’s only natural for a parent to be protective over their kid, especially from such an older person that may just be taking advantage of them.”

Your eyes were wide with shock. You could barley believe what this bitch was saying. She was really trying to spin the story and say that Marshall was trying to take advantage of you, a literal 25 year old adult?

You stood from my chair then and began trying to pull the microphone off of yourself. The interviewer looked at me with concern before trying to stop you.

“I’m done here,” you declared, pulling at the wire once I found it.

“You’re going to break the mic!”

“Send the bill to my people,” you retorted. “I’m not sitting here and having someone tell me that the guy I’m dating is trying to take advantage of me just because he’s older, or hearing you spill some bullshit about my parents. Newsflash: if someone is happy publicly with their relationship, then maybe they’re actually happy. No tragic behind the scene stories or ulterior motives, just two adults who are in love.”

You finally got the microphone off and basically threw it at the interviewer before turning and leaving the room.

~~~~~~

You stayed at Marshall’s place that night, still partially fuming from the interview. You didn’t tell him specifics (especially not that you walked out in a fury the way you did), but you told him it didn’t go well.

You were awoken the next morning to your phone ringing. When you checked it, you saw your dad’s face and name light up your screen. You groaned when you noticed how early the time was before answering. “Hello?”

“Good morning sweetie,” came your dad’s voice. “Have you been online yet?”

“I haven’t even been out of bed yet,” you responded. “Why? What’s going on?”

“You’re trending for walking out of your interview.”

You sat up in the bed so quickly that it woke Marshall. He rolled over and looked at you in confusion as you put your dad on speaker and started frantically opening your Twitter app.

“Dad, you’re on speaker. Marshall is here,” you told him as you started looking.

“Good morning, Marshall,” your dad said.

“Morning,” Marshall responded, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “What’s going on that has (Y/N) wide awake at 8am?”

“She’s trending.”

“For what?”

There it was, your name at the top of the trending list. When you clicked on it, the first thing that popped up was your interview from the day before.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “I can’t believe they actually posted. It was so bad, I thought they’d just delete the footage and never think of it again.”

“You think too highly of people looking for a good scoop, honey.”

The title of the video read Singer (Y/F/N) Goes Off On Interviewer while Talking About Parents and Boyfriend Eminem. The entire interview was included, luckily enough, including everything leading up to your storm out. Marshall watched over your shoulder as your dad waited, silently, for you to see it all.

“You didn’t tell me what was said,” Marshall said. “Why didn’t you tell me they were saying that shit to you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you responded. “I mean, it did matter, but by the time I got here I didn’t think it would matter anymore. Like I said, I thought the footage would be deleted and long forgotten.”

You were nervously biting at your nails as you scrolled through Twitter to see what people were saying. You were expecting a wave of hate and people believing that you truly were a bratty singer, until you started to see how much praise and love you were getting.

“Imagine trying to frame (Y/N) as the bad one in this situation when the interviewer literally said Eminem is trying to take advantage of her”

“Never believed those rumors about (Y/N)’s parents and Eminem. They’re all too tightknit for (Y/N) to date someone her parents hate”

“The way she told the interviewer to bill her for the broken mic that’s QUEEN SHIT”

“It doesn’t seem too bad,” you said as you continued to read. “A lot of people on my side.”

“Oh, I knew no one was against you on this one,” your dad said. “I just wanted to let you know you’re trending, and let you know I’m proud of you for finally putting an end to those rumors. It was getting really tiresome to read why I hated Marshall on any given day.”

You chuckled slightly. “Thanks dad. I’ll call you and mom later. Love you.”

“Love you, too, honey.”

Your dad hung up and you decided it would be for the best to put your phone away for a while. Even though you weren’t getting any negative attention for this, you were still overwhelmed by the fact that the interview went up at all.

You settled back into bed beside Marshall, taking your place in his arms where you loved to be the most.

“I’m proud of you, too,” he said, kissing your forehead. “I didn’t realize my girl was so badass.”

“Yes you did.”

“Maybe I did.” You giggled as you nuzzled your head into his chest more. “You know how much I love you, right?”

“Of course I know, babe. Don’t let that shitty interviewer and her bullshit get to you.”

“Oh she’s not,” he said. “I’m well aware your parents love me and I’m not taking advantage of you. I just wanted to remind you.”

I chuckled and shook my head. Shortly after, I drifted off to sleep, feeling proud of myself for what I had done.

[v-hope]

Someone speaks badly about you on a show

—and they defend you, ofc.

Pairings: OT7 x Reader

Genre: I guess fluff for default, angst

Request by @ally22042000: "Hey, I saw that request for reactions are open. Can I have one with the boys ( just Yoongi and JK if all of them are to much), where they are at an award show or interview or something like that and someone talks disrespectfull about the reader? Thx so much💜 and have a nice day."

A/N: I hope this is what you had in mind, I enjoyed writing these 💕 Also, you're an idol in a couple of them and in the rest you're not. I hope you like it!

Kim Seokjin

Your boyfriend absolutely lived for whenever he got asked to be an MC at award shows.

So, naturally, he was very hyped up once he was handed his lines and had to go up on stage with two other idols – one of them being his good friend of many years, and the other one being a new artist who had debuted last year.

It was simple. Read the cards. Just read the goddamn paper notes you had been given and that was it. But, apparently, the idol by his side was way too new to this whole thing, for instead of reading what he had been handed to, he fixed his eyes on Jin to his side.

"Thank God I got to be with the fun one of your relationship".

Seokjin's eyes went to lock with his out of instinct, having not really processed what had just happened yet.

"The fun one?" his eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah" the idol nodded his head. "Y/N would've made this so boring".

Jin glanced for a brief second to his friend, as if to verify he had heard just the same and his mind wasn't making it up – his awkward expression itself doing that for him.

Nonetheless, as much as he wanted to snap at him, he decided to be the better one, maybe just because he knew he was still live and didn't want to make a scene right in front of everyone.

That didn't stop him from putting him in his place though.

"Then you clearly haven't had the pleasure to meet her and witness her high class humour" Jin spoke into the camera, later placing his eyes on his friend. "Don't you think, hyung-nim?"

"I have never laughed harder than with her, Seokjin-ssi" he replied immediately.

And then out of nowhere, Jin dug his hand in his pocket, throwing multiple heart shaped red papers that had everyone screaming in a second. "Love you, baby. Don't let anyone tell you you're not funny".

What's the saying? Kill 'em with kindness? Well, Seokjin had just slayed that poor guy's soul.

Min Yoongi

"Hey, it's BTS!" the MC greeted cheerfully once the seven guys came on the shot.

One by one, they went up to her to give her a quick hug before they took their place standing next to her.

Up until then, everything was fine, and maybe things would've remained that way if she had just said nothing after Yoongi hugged her. Instead, she laughed, catching him off guard.

"At least you are polite" she shook her head in amusement.

Yoongi pouted naturally because of his confusion. "Who of us hasn't been polite?"

"Oh, no. Not you" she shook her head one more time, only to clarify: "Your girlfriend".

"Y/N-ssi?" Hobi was the one to ask on his hyung's behalf, being just as puzzled as everyone else by that statement.

At the nod of confirmation coming from the MC, Yoongi brought the microphone up to his lips. "But you've never even met her, where'd you get that from?"

"The video of her not even looking at the paps taking pictures... when you were at the airport the other day".

Yoongi's hold on the mic tightened, suddenly becoming protective of you. "So just because she's a private person she's impolite?"

"She didn't even acknowledge your fans. Come on, that was just very–"

"She's not an idol" he cut her off. "She doesn't have to put up with all of this, especially when she's not comfortable with all the attention".

"She should've known this would happen when she decided to date you".

"Guys…" Namjoon tried to stop both of them from arguing any further, for they had apparently forgotten they were still live.

But Yoongi was already done, slightly shaking his head before he put an end to it for once and for all: "She's given up enough for me already, I'm not asking her to be all bubbly around paps or our fans when she clearly isn't comfortable with it. If that's impolite to you then go off, I guess, but I'm the one dating her and I know better".

On to the next topic now.

Jung Hoseok

"Hoseok!" the girl interviewing them read effusively on her phone.

They had been interviewed person by person that day, since a few influencers had gotten the chance to record short clips with BTS to upload to their social media. This one, so far, had been one of their favourites, for its dynamics consisted in nothing but the young woman going through her Twitter reading fan questions or just letting them know about cute comments they had made.

However, that was soon to change when she caught Hobi's attention, continuing: "I loved you in the concert last week, I got to meet Y/N and she was the cu– oh, irrelevant much?" she mumbled with a small, breathy laugh, before dismissing the topic and scrolling down in search of another tweet.

Hoseok's eyebrows knitted together. "Wha–"

"Oh, here's a good one" she smiled as if nothing had happened, as if she had not heard him; having the seven men exchange uncomfortable glances. "Jimin, you and your girlfriend are such couple goals, I can't w–"

"Um…" Hoseok cut her off, stealing a quick glance to Jimin, who looked just as out of it, before his eyes fell back on the girl's. "How come Jimin's girlfriend is worth talking of and mine isn't?"

"She's an idol" she answered as if it was evident.

His jaw tightened. "So people are only worthy when they're famous now?"

"Well, no..." she uselessly tried to fix it.

"Then I believe you should respect her enough not to call her irrelevant or skip comments at the mention of her".

"But there's nothing interesting about Y/N anyway, so…"

That was all Hobi needed to turn his head to look at his members before he shook his head in defeat. "We're done here, guys. I'm not listening to any more of this nonsense".

Neither were they, which is why they were all soon to follow your boyfriend out of there.

Kim Namjoon

"So, Namjoon-ah" the entertainer's eyes focused on him, "I watched a few pictures of you at your girlfriend's graduation the other day" he smiled. "You guys looked so cute!"

A big smile spread over Joon's lips, recalling the pride he had felt that day because of you, being the happiest to have been able to be there for you.

"Aw, thank you" he said truthfully, his dimples making their appearance. "I'm really proud of her".

"You are?" the man asked.

Now, there were two ways to say those words. One with a genuinely intrigued tone, and one that was looking to offend. In this case, given not only his tone but also the way his eyebrows had raised in impression, it had been clear to everyone present that his intention had been the latter.

"I am" he stated simply, hoping that would be as much as the host would say about the topic before he moved on to the next one.

It was not.

"Don't you ever wish you were with someone more successful though?"

Namjoon's jaw tightened visibly, his eyes turning colder. "What does that even mean?"

"I'm just saying, you're Kim Namjoon" the man shifted on his seat. "Worldwide known idol, producer, rapper… whereas she's just… ordinary".

The way he had said that last word made it seem like being like that was the worst of things, and Namjoon did not like it one bit.

"Her achievements are just as important as mine" he was fast to talk in your defence. "Just because she isn't a part of the idol industry doesn't mean her dreams and passions are any less worthy of recognition than mine".

That alone had the interviewer apologising in a second, realising then how bad he had messed up. Because, in all honesty, Namjoon couldn't really care any less about you being famous or not – he would always be proud of you and your achievements no matter what.

Park Jimin

"Ah, Park Jimin!" the host exclaimed after a picture of you had popped up on the screen in between them. "You really got lucky with this one, didn't you?"

That sure did bring a bright smile to his lips, for he absolutely lived for these moments, when people acknowledged how beautiful you were.

Nonetheless, that smile of his was soon erased when the same guy added: "You should control her more, though".

With that and a frown adorning your boyfriend's face, the picture previously displaying on the screen was gone and replaced with one of you in a night dress from two days ago instead.

"Control her more?" Jimin asked through gritted teeth.

"Yeah" he nodded his head. "She has a boyfriend now, she can't go around looking that hot, it might get the wrong attention".

Now, Jimin himself hadn't really liked it when you went out dressed like that, but he was your boyfriend, so he did have some kind of right to feel a little jealous of other guys thirsting over his girlfriend when she was out alone with her friends, didn't he?

This guy, however? Neither what he said was appropriate on so many levels, nor did he have the right to talk about you and your outfit like that.

"I think you should think before you speak and induce people to have unhealthy relationships" your boyfriend spoke in a low, calm voice.

Controlling you? What kind of bullshit was that?

"Come on now, I was joking" the man brushed it off with a laugh, and a very nervous one at that.

"Were you really?" Jimin raised one of his eyebrows, not believing a word. "Even if you were" he went on before the guy could open his mouth to reply, "you should maybe reflect on yourself and, instead of telling me how to treat my girlfriend because of how provocative she looks, think of why you, a guy who's over his forties, thinks that way of someone who could easily be his daughter".

He had not been rude. He had not raised his voice. Yet he did somehow manage to look so fucking scary to the man in front.

Kim Taehyung

"Y/N?" the interviewer asked in disbelief, only to scoff after receiving a nod of confirmation from Tae. "Of course she'd end up with one of you guys".

Not only did Taehyung's eyebrows furrow in that moment, but so did everyone else's – his members exchanging dumbfounded looks as your boyfriend looked to the guy in front dead in the eye.

"One of us?"

"Mhm" the guy replied simply. "She always seems to be with whoever is the most famous at the moment, so..." he shrugged.

"She's only been with other two people?" Taehyung raised one of his eyebrows.

"Who just so happened to be the moment's sensation" he reminded him. "And now she's with you".

"You can't help who you fall for" your boyfriend's stare became colder by the second.

"She's just going to break things off with you as soon as your moment of fame passes".

That was it.

"Okay, no" his voice came out like pure venom. "If she broke up with them, it's merely because they were both complete assholes to her".

"Taehyung…" Namjoon discreetly squeezed his wrist from his side.

"No, hyung" he shook his head before fixing his enraged eyes back on the interviewer. "She's the sweetest person there is, it's not her fault us guys fall for her. And it's not her fault either to have dated guys who don't deserve her. She did well to dump them, and I know she won't leave me just because of my fame's status".

And then, as everyone in the room remained silent, being absolutely perplexed by such situation, he shook his head in disappointment once again at the sight of the guy's desperate attempt to come up with something else to say.

"You know" he beat him to it, "for such an overrated interviewer, you are so goddamn misinformed".

Good thing this would get bleeped out by the editors later, that if they ever wanted this to air at all.

Jeon Jeongguk

"It's been a while since we last were together, hasn't it?" the host spoke after they had all sat down on the sofa placed in front of her. "A lot has happened since then…" a cheeky grin curved up her lips when her eyes fell on Jeongguk, "like the maknae finally getting himself a girlfriend?"

A shy bunny smile didn't wait to part Guk's lips, meanwhile his six hyungs started being chaotic like they, by this point, always were.

"He did" Namjoon was the one to answer for him, fondly patting his shoulder.

"Well, congratulations! It was about time you got someone" the woman said with a smile. "Though I must admit I never thought I'd see you with someone like her".

Your boyfriend's previous smile was replaced by slightly parted lips. "Someone like her?"

"I mean" the woman tried to get her point across, "you've said multiple times that IU is your ideal type, and Y/N's just…" she scrunched her nose in a displeased manner, "she's not exactly…"

Oh, no. There was no way in hell Jeongguk was letting her finish that sentence; the idea itself making him mad. That was the reason his shy side was long gone, being replaced by his protective one instead, which had quickly taken over him.

"She's stunning" Guk spoke in a low, determined voice. "IU is just a celebrity crush. Y/N's the woman I am in love with" he established without hesitation. "I really don't understand why you're bringing this up".

Although taken aback by Jeongguk's sudden way with his words, not having expected such outburst coming from the quietest member when it came to interviews, the woman went on:

"I'm just sayin–"

"No" Guk cut her off, shaking his head hastily, "you have nothing to say about my preferences, you don't get a say on us".

End of conversation.

[scenariosofkonoha]

Life’s Different Now| Modern! Kakashi

Part 1/?

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3|  Part 4| Part 5| Part 6

Fic Summary: Life’s different now that you’re grown and come back home. Everyone’s learned to live without you, but now you’re back. Some things are the same, but most are different.That’s not necessarily a bad thing though, and it brings more feelings than you though would come. 

Chapter Summary: Setting up the basis for this Kakashi slowburn fic. You just graduated with your masters from a university overseas and now you’re coming home after 6 years to surprise your family for the holidays. Lots of reunions, mainly focused on Shisui, Itachi, Obito, and Kakashi.

You were never one who struggled to get their bearings in a new environment. No, you had always thrived when thrown into different situations that were consumed with uncertainty. You were good at being able to make great things out of nothing; it was one of your strengths- at least that’s what you called it whenever you went out for job interviews. Though as you stood in the airport that was most definitely over it’s capacity, desperately trying to find the one familiar thing you needed, you were on the brink of questioning that maybe you should change that interview answer.  

“Hey! You!” a voice yelled out, hoping that he was loud enough to outweigh all of the commotion that surrounded him. 

Instantly snapping your head to where the call resonated for, you began helplessly letting a smile come across your face as you recognized that familiar voice. With a tightened grip on your small luggage, you quickly wove your way through the countless travelers who were all in situations very similar to you. Shifting your way through the crowd and offering a ‘sorry, excuse me,’ to those who you got a little too close to, you finally made it to your one familiar thing. “Did you forget my name?” you replied and let out a small laugh as you dropped your luggage and found yourself in a hug. 

Wrapping his arms around you, Shisui shook his head, “No, it takes 7 years on a different continent for that to happen. You were only 6 ½, so you made the cut.” he joked as he gave you one last squeeze before letting go. “You ready? Is this all you have?” he asked while picking up your suitcase, wanting to leave the airport as quickly as he could, but also realizing that it may have taken more than one suitcase to move your entire existence across the ocean. 

You nodded. “Yeah, have you seen luggage prices? I’m not paying that.”

He looked uncertainly to you. “You packed 6 years of your life into this 20 pound suitcase and that tiny carry on?” 

“Impressed?” you almost snickered, knowing the last time he had been over to your apartment in Europe it was a disaster zone that wouldn’t fit in even a small Uhaul. “But, seriously, yes. Let’s go.” you followed up as you gave him a slight push to the exit. 

As the two of you started to weave throughout the crowd once again, you did your best to stay together, but with the mere amount of people filling the airport it was a trial. It wasn’t until you were finally out of the airport and in the parking lot that you were actually able to start up talking again. “I have coffee and ibuprofen for you in the car, you know, to make up for the last time I dropped you off and stole yours.” Shisui offered. 

You laughed, “You’re really trying prep me for this party, aren’t you?”

Shisui shook his head unconvincingly as the pair of you made it to the car, “No, I’m just being the quality brother that I am.” he tried as he threw the suitcase in the back seat.

“Yeah?” you murmured as you got into the passenger seat.

“But…” he started again as he got in and started the car. “I would suggest you drink it, because there’s four shots of espresso in it and you’re going to need it for tonight.” he offered. 

“Is this like the big, big holiday party, or like the medium, big party?” you inquired as you began to open the ibuprofen bottle. “Just so I know how many of these I’m going to need to get through the impending jet lag and social gathering that are inevitably going to hit me at the same time?” 

“It’s both Madara’s and Izuna’s side, plus friends...”

“Oof, okay 3 it is.” you muttered as you took the precautionary medicine. Bringing you back home for the holidays was this elaborate plan Shisui had thought of back in September. Yes, you had already planned to move back home, but not until after the first of the year, and that’s what you had told everyone- that was your original plan. It wasn’t until he called you in the middle of the night with this whole plan of surprising everyone at the family holiday party that served as both your and his present to everyone for the year that you even considered moving back so rapidly.  You had graduated with your master’s degree only a few days prior, and basically selling everything you owned and closing on the tiny studio apartment you had been living in for 6 years while all of that was happening was no simple task. By some means you managed it, and you honestly thanked your terribly learned skill of doing impossibly large tasks last minute that got you through both undergrad and grad. 

There were more moving pieces to it though, ones that you had honestly let fall by the wayside and would fight later. What mattered now was that there you were, back home, in your brother’s car, going to the first family holiday party in six years. You were cutting it short time wise, but that was more of a personality trait than anything anymore. So swallowing the little pills with a sip of coffee, you continued to get information about what the night held. “Who all are we going with?” you asked, knowing that your grandfather’s place was an hour’s drive from Shisui’s house, so it only made sense to go as a group with other members of your family. 

Merging onto the highway, Shisui smiled, “I got your two favorite cousins over at my place. Kakashi’s tagging along with Obito too, so it's a good group if I say so myself.”

“Oh my god, I haven’t given Obito shit in person since I was high school…” you smiled. “ Do they know I’m coming?”

“Nope. I told them I went out to grab alcohol for the party. Thought I’d give you a practice round for all the attention you’re going to get tonight,” Shisui only halfway joked. 

Sliding down against your seat belt, you took another sip of the coffee, the reality of the night now becoming front and center in your mind.. “This is going to be exhausting, isn’t it?”

“Oh yeah, you're going to be drained.” Shisui reaffirmed, the absence of pity apparent. “The cousin- one who everyone actually likes- who’s been out of the country for 6 years surprising everyone at the family holiday party? You won’t get a second to breathe.” he nodded with a slight chuckle, pleased with himself at how this plan actually worked. 

“Mom’s probably going to cry and then look at you, because she 100% knows this is something you’d pull.”

“ Oh completely. And Dad won’t stop talking about you and how you’re so smart now and how proud he is.” 

“And then we’ll get an earful of how we should have mentioned something and they would have helped.” you completed the scenario that you were positive was going to take place in a few hours. 

“Yep.”

You shook your head contently for a moment, actually looking forward to getting lectured. Then glancing over, you offered your appreciation. “Thanks again for paying for my plane ticket; I know they’re outrageous this time of year.” you acknowledged Shisui, who was the true coordinator in all this.  

“Oh yeah,” he replied, acting as if it were nothing. “I mean, you’re remodeling like half my house in exchange, so don’t worry about it.” 

Sitting forward, you grabbed your tablet out of the carry on, “Speaking of which,” you murmured as you turned it on “I have ideas, and by ideas, I mean I have 5 different schematics sketched out on here for you to look out, but I also need to look at your place, because two of those ideas involve taking a wall out.” you updated him on your plans for his newly owned home. 

“What-”

“Don’t worry, I can do it myself.”

“You can take a wall out by yourself?”

You laughed, “Oh, taking a wall out was by far one of the easier things I did in grad school.” 

He took a quick glance at you, now realizing more than ever his masters program must have been far different than yours. “Okay, well get ready to see this wall, because we’re here.” he said with a slight chuckle, though you could tell there was a bit of concern for the wall. Turning into the driveway, he parked the car and looked fully to you, “You ready?”

Taking the last sip of your coffee, scrunched your shoulder for a second. “Is it weird I’m nervous to see my cousins?” you asked.

“Don’t you message all three of them almost every day...?” he narrowed his eyes. 

“Yeah, you’re right; let’s go see ‘em.” you nodded to yourself before getting out of the car and following him into the house.  

Upon entering the house, you didn’t see anyone, but you heard chatter. It wasn’t until that chatter stopped and was replaced with a yell that you saw anyone. “Shisui, how long does it take to get five bottles? We gotta go. We’re going to get chewed out-” Obito called out, but was stopped abruptly when he came into the living room. Blinking a few times, he was dumbfounded for a second, before a stupid smile came upon his face. “Holy shit, you’re here?” he laughed out before running over to you and hugging you, picking you up a couple inches off the ground in the process. 

Letting out a laugh at his reaction, you hugged back. “Yeah, I’m here. I told you I was moving back.” you replied, feeling your feet touch the ground again.

“Yeah, in February, it’s December!”  he remarked, still trying to process that you were standing right in front of him. 

Shrugging, you rolled your eyes, “Minor details…” you let out a small chuckle. And as you did that, the other two had made their way into the room. Seeing them in person for the first time in years, your smile was softer to Itachi and Kakashi, not as ornery as you had been with Shisui and Obito. Making your way to Itachi first, you held your hands out to him, “How are you? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” you offered as you took his hands, and pulled him into an embrace. You and Itachi were only a month apart, so next to Shisui he was the closest family member you had, so there was a small part of you that felt guilty for not looping him in.

He let out something that was almost a sigh, but seemed to hold more happiness than a sigh would allow. “Don’t be.” Itachi shook his head. “I’m glad you came home.” he gave a gentle smile to you before letting go. 

Then looking at the last individual in the room who you hadn't greeted yet, you gave a fake frown, “You can’t look at me like I’ve only been gone a little bit, makes me think you didn’t miss me. ” you pouted me as you made your way over to him. 

“I’m not?” Kakashi replied, shaking his head in defense while you gave him the last hug. “I promise I missed you.” he offered up almost like an apology.

“Good.”

And just as you all were finishing your reunion, Shisui pulled out his phone, a call coming in. “Oh shit…” Shisui muttered, more or less cursing at the time rather than the call. Answering, he looked to you all as he spoke, doing his best to loop everyone in. “Hey, Dad, what’s going on?” he greeted, already knowing that he was going to question their presence. “Grandpa’s wondering where we are?” he repeated, grabbing his keys again and motioning to the door. “Yeah, yeah, we’re leaving my place now. We’ll be there in like 50 minutes, I’ll speed.” he offered as the lot of you grabbed your coats, ready to be greeted by the bitter cold.  “Yeah, I’m sorry. Tell ‘em Obito held us up- didn’t have any wrapping paper.” he lied as he held the door open and silently told you all to get into the car. 

“Hey-” Obito tried to cut in.

“Anyway, we’re in the car, see you soon!” Shisui raised his voice a little before ending the call so that Obito’s objections couldn’t be heard. 

Getting squished in the middle seat by Itachi and Kakashi, Obito glared at Shisui through the rear view mirror. “You know, you could have said it was Itachi?” 

Shisui sighed as he looked over his shoulder and started to back out of the driveway, “Yeah, but Dad’s not going to believe that, and we’ve spent too long coming up with this plan to let our last lie throw this suprise out the window.” 

*****

The car ride passed quickly as the four of them tried to get you up to pace, and before you knew it, you were parked outside of your grandfather’s large home. Grabbing a box of assorted drinks and pastries out of the trunk, Obito nodded to you all as he started to make his way down the snowy yard, “Let’s go! I don’t want to be barked at all night for being even later than we already are!” Heeding his words for once, you all followed him through the snow and watched him and he knocked on the front door with a kick.  

“Y/N, hide behind Itachi, you should be last.” Shisui instructed with a slight push. 

And almost immediately as you made your way behind everyone, you heard the front door open and a usually comforting voice, tenser than normal as she tried to keep the party going.

“Come in, come in! You know your father is covering for all three of you right now?” your mother said. She probably thought that she had raised a child who could be on time to events and not nearly an hour and a half late. “ Madara keeps asking where you all are, you know.” she reminded, not necessarily upset with you all, but desperately running out of ways to entertain the old man without you all there. “Obito, you can take all that to the kitchen. Shisui and Itachi, you both need to go visit everyone in the living room. Hi, Kakashi how are you?” she gave a smile, quickly addressing each of you. 

“Mom, Mom, Mom,” Shisui stopped her. “Before anything happens, look who I brought-” you could hear the smile forming on his face as he gave your cue. 

“Hi Mom,” you grinned as you peaked out from behind Itachi.

 For a second, shock came across her face, but that was quickly replaced by a watery eyes smile as she rushed out of the house to hug you. Pulling you in tight, she kept you warm despite the snow that had now turned most of your hair white. Placing her hands on either side of your face, she let out a laugh filled with disbelief. “You’re home?” 

You nodded. “ I’m home…”

Instantly turning her head to look at Shisui, her voice was nearly certain, “This was your idea?” she asked. 

He just shrugged with a smile. 

“Can we go inside?” you laughed, “I’m not used to it being so cold anymore.” 

Wiping the tears away, your mom nodded. “Of course.” Taking a hold onto your hand as the pair of you walked into the home following the boys, she couldn’t stop smiling. “Let’s go see everyone. We’ve all missed you so much…”

*****

Your head fell against the headrest of Shisui’s car, another wave of exhaustion hitting you as your eyes were locked on the windshield as the snow rushed past. “Thank you so much for driving. I don’t think I would have made it back.” you admitted to Kakashi, nearly in a daze.  

Glancing over to you, he offered a nod of acknowledgment before replying. “I didn’t think you were even going to make it this long,” he let a small laugh.

Rubbing your eyes, you tried to stay coherent. “I think it was that 4th shot of espresso Shisui gave me when I got off the plane.”  

“Maybe that’s what all three of them needed…” he commented as he glanced at the rear view mirror at the other three in your group who had all fallen asleep on the car ride back. He couldn’t particularly blame them, it was now early in the morning, and he had a gut feeling from the very beginning that he was going to be the one driving back. 

You smiled. “Yeah, but honestly, I’m so glad Obito fell asleep there, because that gave us a way out. Those people could stay talking all night, and I just…” you trailed off. 

“Enough interaction for one night?”

“Yeah…”

“They all seem to be happy you’re home though.” 

You nodded, but didn’t follow up. 

“I’m glad you’re home.”

That time you did follow up, “I am too…”

[madamebaggio]

Love was in the air last night at the Grammys!

While both Sansa Stark and Arthur Pendragon insist on saying there’s nothing going on between them, we will have to disagree. The two singers looked cozy last night during the Grammys. They took pictures on the red carpet -under the watchful eye of Benjen Stark -and Arthur looked in awe as Sansa Stark sang “Brother in Black”. He also stood up to clap as she received “Album of the Year”, and was late seen talking to her during a post-Grammy party. As much as they are trying to deny it, they just can’t seem to help themselves.

Chapter 7

These few days before the Grammy had been insane for Sansa. The pressure was increasing, everybody was talking about her presentation. In addition to that, she was dealing with the whole Arthur thing. Brienne had not been amused by her sassy answer on the interview, but the internet had.

They were being shipped.

By many people.

Many people.

It was strange. She'd only been shipped with Joffrey, but they'd been a real couple at the time. However, even then, many of her fans didn't actually like the relationship. Maybe they'd known something she didn't.

She wasn't sure what to think about this whole mess and Margaery’s advice had hardly been helpful. She wasn’t about to have some affair with Arthur Pendragon of all men.

As if.

Ridiculous.

“Are you okay, Sansa?”

Sansa smiled at her uncle. “I am.”

“Are you nervous about the presentation?” He asked frowning.

When he frowned, uncle Benjen looked so much like father and Jon. The men in this family were way too serious. Good thing Robb, Rickon and Bran apparently took more after the Tully side.

Sansa did what she always did when her father or uncle frowned: she smoothed it out with her fingers.

Uncle Benjen smiled at her. “I’m fine.” She assured him. “I’m ready to rock.”

Benjen chuckled. “Then let’s do this.”

He left the limo first, the offered a hand to help Sansa out. She took a deep breath before being nearly blinded by all the flashes. People were calling her name, paparazzi asking for a smile or something, fans begging for autographs.

She let go of Benjen’s arm and went to talk to her fans. She took pictures and signed magazines and basked in the positive energy. This was why her job was worth it.

She had a good feeling about this day.

XxX

Arthur hadn’t planned on showing up to the Grammy. He knew Camelot wasn’t going to win this one - The Direwolves had a much better chance - and he thought the event was unbearable and fake.

However… Sansa was going to be there to sing and he wanted to be there to watch it.

His bandmates had offered their solidarity, then decided to stay home. The traitors.

He was taking the mandatory pictures on the red carpet -and feeling absolutely ridiculous wearing a suit-, when he heard someone calling Benjen Stark’s name.

He turned immediately.

Benjen Stark was cool in a way that Arthur would never be, even if he died and reincarnated. The man was wearing a black jacket that had fur on the collar, his hair tied back in a simple ponytail. He was wearing all black, his shirt opened a couple of extra buttons and no tie. Arthur was almost sure his boots were real leather. Probably a crocodile he killed with his bare hands or something similarly badass like that.

However, as cool as Benjen Stark was, Arthur took him in on a second, because who was beside him as a much more beautiful view.

Fuck.

He knew she was beautiful, he did. He wasn’t blind, but tonight…

Double fuck.

Her hair was hanging free over her shoulder, exposing her elegant neck. Her dress was a classic model, light green and as amazingly lady like was she was.

When Arthur came back to his senses, he was already walking in their direction.

“Mr. Stark.” He called as he approached.

Uncle and niece turned in his direction, and Benjen’s glare was a frightening sight. “Arthur Pendragon, right?”

Sansa intervened. “No need to scare him, uncle. He’s apologized.” She hurried to say.

“Repeatedly.” Arthur added, offering his hand.

Benjen gave him a extra firm shake, then gave Sansa a look. “I’ll be over there if you need me.”

He walked away leaving them together.

“He’s so scary.” Arthur murmured in awe.

Sansa snorted. “You asked for it.”

“So… Are we friends now?” Arthur grinned at her ignoring the photographers calling their names.

“Only in your wildest dreams.” Sansa replied with a polite smile, turning for pictures.

Arthur chuckled, but followed her lead. They ignored the questions about their relationship, but when someone asked them to stand closer, Arthur threw a questioning glance at Sansa, and at her nod, put his hand lightly on the small of her back.

“You know…” She told him conversationally. “They’ll have their eyes on you, so look impressed.”

Arthur turned to her, a smirk on his lips. “Then impress me, Red.”

She arched a brow. “More?” Then nodded at him, and left.

Arthur stood there for a second, a silly grin on his lips. “Shit.”

XxX

It was almost time. Sansa’s heart was beating like it never had before. She felt excited but there was a lot of anxiety running through her.

This song was uncle Benjen’s baby. She wanted to do it justice. Not because of everybody else -screw them -but because he deserved it. She wanted to make him proud, since he’s always supported her.

She could do this.

And okay, fine. Maybe she wanted to impress Arthur too.

But just a little bit.

XxX

Arthur had a suspiciously good position to see the stage. The kind of place normally destined to people that were way more influential than he was on the industry.

Apparently there would be a camera focused on his face the whole time.

Just great.

He didn’t care, he’d only come to see Sansa singing.

Sansa’s and Benjen’s names were finally called and the lights were turned off.

“Night gathers, and now my watch begins.” The smoky female voice sang on the silence.

Fuck! She was going to sing “Brothers in Black!

The lights came back gently, illuminating only her. “It shall not end until my death. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory.”

Her voice… It gave him the chills as he watched her there, hair a living flame, wearing black leather pants, eyes closed as the song consumed her.

“I shall fear no foe, even as the cold takes my soul. My watch begins.”

A guitar sounded behind her and the lights came on, as Benjen Stark appeared beside her as the god of rock he was.

Arthur fell in love all over again.

XxX

Sansa had been right: it was an amazing night. She won all the categories to which she was nominated, including Album of the Year.

She could hardly believe it when they'd called her name. Uncle Benjen had to help her stand, because her legs had turned to jello. She'd cried as she made her speech.

She dedicated that victory to all the girls out there who’d ever doubted themselves or had people doubting on them.

It felt like a true victory.

She went to the after party only because Margaery had insisted and many people wanted to talk to her.

However, as she looked around, she wondered if Arthur had come as well. She didn’t think so, since this wasn’t his crowd, and she hadn’t seen him yet.

“Sansa.”

She smiled as Jon gave her a water. His band had won a Grammy as well.

“Thank you.”

“Arthur is here.” He told her. “And I think he’s looking for you.”

Sansa felt herself blushing immediately. “I…”

Jon just gave her a look. “Go talk to him.”

“It’s not like that.” She hurried to say for some reason.

Jon huffed a breath. “ You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” He pointed out. “If you want to talk to him, just go.”

Sansa sighed. “OK.”

She found Arthur by the bar. She already knew he could fill a jeans quite well, but what he was doing to that suit should be illegal.

He was wearing all black-predictable- but his tie was a deep red, and he had a couple of skull rings on his fingers. He looked kind of scrumptious.

Perhaps totally scrumptious.

He saw her coming in his direction, and opened one of his amazing smirks. “Stark.”

She couldn’t hold back a grin. “Pendragon.” She stepped to his side. “Impressed?” She challenged.

Arthur left out an amused snort. “Red, I’m almost falling to my knees and asking you to marry me.” He said dramatically.

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Please, refrain.”

He chuckled, then his face took a more earnest look. “It was beautiful, Sansa. You have an amazing voice.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“Why don’t you…” He started, then seemed to think better of it. “Forget it.”

Sansa arched a brow in his direction. “You were going to ask why I waste my time singing pop songs when I can sing like that, weren’t you?” She asked dryly.

Arthur winced. “Thank you for rubbing in my face how much of an asshole I was about to be.”

“You deserved it, for even thinking about it.”

He sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He told her honestly. “I’m not perfect. I try to understand, I really do…”

“Why do you sing screaming?” She cut him bluntly.

Arthur was completely caught by surprise. “I beg your pardon?” He sputtered.

“Why do you sing like you’re about to blow your lungs out when you can sing like a decent human being?” Sansa asked, her face a perfect mask of polite interest.

Arthur was incensed. “Now, wait a minute…” Then he saw her smirk. “You little minx.” He groaned.

“I love pop.” She said simply. “I like singing songs that people can dance to, rock in their cars and laugh about with their friends. I sing pop because I’ve liked it since I was 8.”

“Fair enough, Lady Stark.” He bowed to her. “You’ve put me in my place.”

“Remember to stick around there.” She told him regally.

He chuckled. “You’re way too cruel to me today.”

“It’s my revenge for all you’ve annoyed me in these last weeks.”

“Does that mean we still can’t be friends?”

“It means you should stop calling Shae everytime you want to talk to me.” She passed him the napkin she’d been holding the whole night. “Good night, Arthur.”

He only opened once she was out of sight.

It was her phone number.

Note: I want to make very clear that I do not like real fur and I don’t think people should wear it. I just mentioned that Benjen was wearing fur as a nod towards his clothes on Game of Thrones. By the way... Is it only me that find uncle Benjen so hot?

Sansa nailed her performance. I imagine this song a bit like “Dream on” by Aerosmith, but not exactly like it, if that makes sense...

I hope you enjoyed the light conversation between them.

Next chapter they’ll finally have some time alone and Arthur is going to show her the music he wrote for her!

Let me know

[foreverbeingthunderbuddy]

It’s A Date [b.b.]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt: “How much did you drink?”

Summary: You work for Tony Stark and are madly in love with Bucky. After repeatedly rejecting Tony’s invitations to his monthly extravagant parties, you decide it’s finally time to be badass and accept the invitation. You go the party – and instantly accompany a good old friend named Liquid Courage. Not a good idea when your crush is right there, too.

Warnings: um cuss words, sexual tension

A/N: This is my piece for @upsidedownparker’s 5k writing challenge, congrats again!! Word count around 6k. 

Masterlist

Didn’t someone once say that being sexy is all about attitude, not body type?

Clearly, that someone was a beautiful person with no body flaws because there’s literally no way your attitude can overpower what you see in your bedroom mirror right now. A black dress that goes to mid-thigh and is tight around the waist. A closer look quickly reveals: a little too tight. Or maybe not the dress is the problem here, maybe it’s what underneath it.

It’s been a while since you last wore this particular piece of clothing but you didn’t think those two or three years took a toll on your body as they did. Sure, you didn’t gain a significant amount of weight – maybe one or two pounds? – but you are a hundred percent certain this dress looked better when you bought it.

Hrmpf.

You already did your make-up and were actually on your way out but you couldn’t leave without a last glance in the mirror and well. That was a mistake. You pick on the material at your waist to make it look a little looser, see it doesn’t work, sigh and then grab your purse on the bed behind you.

You accepted Tony’s invitation yesterday and at this point it’s too late to call in and cancel. You could just not show up but the second you told him you’d be there, he declared he’d be looking for you, so it’s not like nobody would notice if you stayed away. He would give you shit for the rest of this week if you chickened out.

The reason why Tony is so eager to get you to go to one of his parties is that since you started working for him two years ago, you declined every single monthly invitation he sent out. Every single one of them. Without an exception. You’re not entirely sure why you do it, all you know is that the thought of dressing up and walking alone among crowds that scream high-society and judge you the second they lay their spoiled eyes on you, is terrifying. And you know you’d be alone.

You interned for a year at Kasper Mentinkberg’s company, did errands, sorted folders, stuff like that until he let you assist in his lab. Halfway through, the project you were working on got a higher classification and the committee demanded a stricter selection of the staff that was involved in it. Meaning no interns.

Kasper had to let you go but you know you did a good job working for him because he made sure you had an excellent letter of recommendation and a job interview with Bruce Banner’s head of assistance at the Stark Tower. You remember leaving the subway station and looking up at the Tower for the first time, heart in your throat, buzz in your ears, breathing non-existent.

When you entered the interviewer’s office, your hands shook so hard it almost looked like a tremble went through your whole body. But you survived, surprisingly. And not just that, two days later you got a long-awaited call from a number you have memorized since Kasper informed you about the job interview. Your heart was beating somewhere outside your body as you picked up your phone and answered it.

You interned at Bruce’s lab for three weeks before he sat you down and offered you a legit job. You almost cried. Bruce Banner, THE Bruce Banner, wanted you to work for him. A girl is allowed to cry about that. Tears of joy, of course.

You’ve been working for him for two years now and you are proud to call him your friend. Not many people can say that. And not many people have a Stark Industries ID, a work place in the Stark Tower, and a very generous boss who doesn’t know what minimum wage is. Working for one Avenger also comes with the circumstance that you meet every single one of Earth mightiest defenders at some point in your being there.

And one of them caught your eye in particular. One would think the metal arm is an immediate indicator of him being a Walking Danger but you’re not dull enough to mistake James Buchanan Barnes for any other than the sweet, caring person that he is. Even if his appearance can be intimidating sometimes.

If Bucky knew about your feelings for him, you would have to quit and move to Nicaragua.

You sigh again and close your apartment door behind you. You won’t cancel tonight, it’s time that you get yourself together and attend one of Tony’s stupid parties. Maybe he will leave you alone then.

The drive to his New Yorkian mansion takes fifteen minutes. Traffic included. You live very close to the Tower and the Tower is very close to Tony’s mansion, so it’s all just a stone’s throw. Sometimes you walk to work, if the weather is good and you don’t feel too exhausted from the previous day. Let’s just say working overtime isn’t a rarity in a corporation that sees its responsibility in saving the world every week, including weekends.

Though, Bruce would never let you work on Saturdays and Sundays, you just offer it and if refused, you stubbornly come to work anyway if you feel like they are occupied with a big case and need every help they can get. Hence the tiredness on some days. Maybe you’re not as smart as you always think you are.

The mansion appears in front of you and with all the decorations and the lights it looks like the fanciest building in this city. And is that a red carpet on the ground? Tony never had an understanding of subtlety. You would smile if the sight of glamorous crowds walking through the gates didn’t make you so anxious. That’s a lot of people.

You cut your eyes away from the extravagant dresses and high-heels and search for the side gate instead. Tony told you, in case you ever decided to attend his parties, you could take the sideway and park your car in a separate parking space that is specifically reserved for his Avenger colleagues and a couple of staff members who he is friends with. And apparently, he sees you in that category as well.

You show the security guard your invitation and ID and he checks whether your name is on the list for special parking, which it is, opens the gate and you follow a nicely decorated path along the side of Tony’s house until eventually you reach a small parking lot that is separated from the garden – or outside area, how Tony calls it – by a big wooden fence. There are already ten cars parking next to each other but you don’t know which one belongs to whom.

There are four empty spots left and you stop your car next to a red, expensive looking Tesla. Carefully so as not to harm the shiny car paint, you open the door and crumble out of your not at all fancy-looking vehicle and sort your dress, remove all wrinkles and check your hair. You can hear voices coming from behind the fence, joyful chatter and mindless laughter, and it seems like a part of the guests have already moved their conversations outside to the over-the-top patio.

It’s going to be fine, Y/N, don’t get stressed just because you don’t know anyone. They’re not going to notice you anyway. Just look for Bruce or Nat and stay one or two hours and then you’re done.

You take a deep breath and start walking to the open glass door, glowing lamps in the shape of a ball lay on the ground left and right like statues in a museum entrance. Not without hesitation, you enter the mansion.

Or just get drunk, maybe that’s better.

You follow the music – jazz? – down the hallway and walk around a corner and through another door. The voices you could make out vaguely now sound very prominent and you know if you walk around that corner over there, you will enter the huge party room. Party hall. Party area?

It’s enormous and has a bar and looks like Tony could rent it to other people as a party location.

Let’s go.

Gathering all your courage, you step forward and leave the hallway and almost get struck dead by the sight that presents itself in front of you.

Dim lights, dozens of little seating areas occupied by important looking, glitter wearing people, stylish lamps creating a We’re-at-a-club atmosphere without destroying the ambiance’s high-society feel, a beautifully lit, gigantic bar that holds about every type of liquor you could imagine, a dancefloor and a small buffet offering what looks like fingerfood and salad.

The music – only barely drowned out by the people’s chatter – is coming from speakers that are hidden well enough that you can’t find them. Oh, and those really are a lot of people. It seems like Tony invited half of New York tonight. Ugh. At least you are one of the few people who 1) work for him and know him personally and 2) are allowed to park on his property. Makes you feel a little more special, and you need that feeling, urgently.

You would have loved to see his “garage” with those deluxe cars but that’s for another time, you guess.

Hesitantly, you start to move and make your way over to the bar, dodging guests who are too caught up in their conversations to notice you. This is exactly like last time.

See, you’ve done this before. You said you never attended one of Tony’s parties but that isn’t exactly true. You just think that first time doesn’t count because you’ve only been there for five minutes before you left with a heavy, disappointed heart and teary eyes. It was five months ago.

All this “It’s time to be an adult and just go that dumb party” already happened, you didn’t wear this dress, though, you wore a black skirt and a silver, sleeveless blouse. It was an expensive outfit and you were happy to showcase it. Everything was exactly like tonight, short car drive, special parking, jazz music, deep breath at the corner, being wildly impressed by the interior.

The only thing that was different back then was your motivation. Tonight it’s so Tony won’t bother you again with his judging eyes and charming attempts at persuasion to get you to accept the invitation. Five months ago it was the fact that Bucky has personally tried to convince you to come here. You’ve already fallen for him at that point, so it wasn’t like he had much Convince-Y/N work to do.

****

“Y/N, you’re really missing out and I’m not just saying that because Tony wants me to. Come on. Try it at least once” He said and rested both of his elbows on the counter that separated you from him.

You were in the lab, Bruce was in a meeting with Tony and there were only two other assistants minding their own business at the other side of the room. It wasn’t often that Bucky came down here and when he did, it was so he could speak to Bruce about important Earth saving stuff. He almost never came to the lab just to talk to you, even though he always did when he was here. He made sure he got to exchange at least a couple of words with you every time, without an exception.

Even if it was mostly him talking and you making agreeing noises because his presence and unshared attention made you so nervous that you couldn’t get out three coherent words without embarrassing yourself.

You remember his hair was tied in a low knot at the back of his neck and his eyes were so piercing blue that you preferred looking at your notes in front of you. You also remember the slight annoyance you felt when you realized you were in full lab attire, your hair in a boring ponytail and you didn’t even bother to put on make-up.

“I don’t know” You said and showed a little smile, still not looking at him, “Those parties always sound so … fancy and over the top. I don’t think that’s for me.”

“It’s not really for me either but … they have a bar and nice music and plenty of opportunities to talk to each other without having Bruce or his assistants being nosy bystanders.”

Your heart jumped at that comment and you looked up to meet his eyes and saw him smile when he realized he had you on the hook. Without hiding the confident look on his face, he straightened up and laid both his hands flat on the counter and you tried not to stare at his metal arm under that tight, black shirt whose sleeves he pulled up to his elbows.

“Come on, Y/N.”

****

As every girl on this planet would, you gave in. Got dressed up, came here full of hope and a joyfully beating heart, only to see Bucky dance with a beautiful woman rather intimately, allowing her to kiss his face and brush her hands over his biceps and back, making your joyful heart turn hollow and sink to your knees.

Maybe this is one of those situations where a misunderstanding leads to the female protagonist storming out the room in tears while her guy tries to get away from Miss I’m-responsible-for-the-low-point-in-this-love-story without being too rude because he is a genuinely good guy, you thought. So, eyes filled with un-cried tears and a tight throat, you watched and gave him ten seconds to prove this is nothing but a misunderstanding.

He used that time to lay his arms around her waist and whisper something into her ear. You were out of there before any of the other Avengers could notice you.

****

“Why didn’t you come to the party yesterday?” He asked and grabbed one of the Erlenmeyer flasks filled with an orange liquid that you didn’t exactly know because you mindlessly mixed stuff together while thinking heartbrokenly about the previous night.

You didn’t look at him and proceeded to write down notes.

“I did come to the party. It was nice. Beautiful decorations” You said and tried to keep your voice on a light level. From the corner of your eye, you could see Bucky turn his head to you, surprised.

“You did?”

“Yup.”

“I didn’t see you, why … Why didn’t you come to me? I thought we wanted to talk?” He asked and the fact that he genuinely sounded baffled angered you almost enough to let it show. Instead, you shrugged.

“I didn’t want to interrupt. Besides, I already was in good company. Tony invited a ton of people, some of which I knew, so I kind of … forgot I guess.” You looked at him. “I’m sorry.”

His beautiful blue eyes stared at you as if he tried to read your mind. He looked puzzled and there was something else. Something you weren’t willing to identify.

“You didn’t want to interrupt” He repeated. You nodded and pulled your attention back to your notes.

There was silence for a moment and you heard a quiet thud as he put down the flask that was still in his hand. It took all of your willpower not to look at him, as much as your wildly beating heart wanted you to.

“Next time I pick you up and we go there together. Maybe this meeting-at-the-party thing doesn’t work for us” He said and actually sounded determined. Now why did it hurt you to reject him?

“I don’t think there’s going to be a next time for me. I saw enough and I don’t think it’s worth it.”

****

You walk around a woman with a shiny, golden dress and that’s when your eyes fall on a familiar face in the crowd at the same time as that familiar face notices you, too. Bruce Banner’s eyes grow big as he realizes who he is looking at and you register with an amused smile how his jaw drops like he is in a cartoon. You wave at him and he salutes to you.

Rolling your eyes, you laugh and disappear from his field of vision, approaching the bar and sliding into a free spot at the counter. You climb onto the chair and inspect the shelves behind the two bartenders. God, that’s a lot of bottles. How to you choose?

Your thought from earlier pops up in your head again – Get drunk! – so you order a cocktail from which you know it’s more alcohol than anything. Long Island Iced Tea. Two or three of those should do the job. Maybe before you get completely shitfaced, you should look for Tony and prove you were actually here.

You turn in your chair and let your eyes wander over the crowd. A useless venture it seems, there’s no way you find him between all these people. You crane your neck and see Bruce talking to Nat. They look like two teenagers on their first date rather than two mighty Avengers who fought Hydra and Earth’s most dangerous scum. You smile while sipping on your drink.

****

“So, you and Nat, hm?” You asked and threw a meaningful side-look at him while you handed him a pair of lab goggles. He pretended not to see your look and put them on.

“Me and Nat?”

“Oh, don’t act all innocent. I’m not blind. Every time you two talk it’s like you’re about to have your first kiss. I almost feel weird being in the same room with the two of you anymore, I feel like a constant cockblock.”

You heard him snort nervously but he still refused to look at you and tipped on the holo-screen in front of him.

“Wow, I- I don’t think you are- I don’t think that’s true. We’re not, you know, it’s not easy- we are-“

“In love?”

He shot you an annoyed look.

“What about you and Bucky? Any good news?” He suddenly asked, going into direct attack mode. His question did exactly what he intended, it took you off-guard and you stared at him for a moment, the wheels in your head working hectically.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He has a soft spot for you, Y/N, it’s fairly obvious. Do you really think it’s necessary for him to come down here as often as he does?” He asked and gave you a smile that you didn’t reciprocate. He probably didn’t see Bucky at the party. But … did he really have a soft spot for you? Did he come down here with excuses just to talk to you?

“Why have you been avoiding him lately?”

“I think Nat is so into you” You said to change the subject.

“I think Bucky is so into you” Bruce retorted and grabbed a little container filled with blue powder.

“What the fuck is this? Love Advice Live with Bruce and Y/N?” Tony suddenly threw in from the door.

****

Does Bucky really have a soft spot for you? Then why did he go and dance with other women like he’s about to do the do right there on the dance floor? Is that a weird Winter Soldier way of liking someone? Is that how they did these things back in the 40s?

Before you get any of these questions answered, your eyes find the person you have been thinking about the whole night. His chin-length hair is pulled back and gives a free view of his pretty face and he wears a black sweater over a dark blue button-up peeking out at the collar. He looks so good you want to cry.

His eyes are on you. And you don’t know how long he has been watching you.

Despite your manners picking on your side and trying to get you to smile at him, you don’t and simply look at him. He does the same. All while ignoring the man and woman next to him who he’s been in a conversation with. You see his gaze travel down your figure, taking in your outfit and you realize he has probably never seen you in a dress before. When his eyes come back up to your face, there’s still no reaction but he doesn’t break off eye contact either.

You wait three seconds – he certainly doesn’t look like he’s coming over here anytime soon – and turn away from him to face the bar. God, can your pulse calm down please? Why did this feel so wild?

You pull out your phone and scroll down to Tony’s contact.

Hey, Tony. I’m at your little party. Bar. I officially pronounce myself off the hook now.

You put away the phone and take another deep gulp from your drink. It’s already half empty and you feel warmer and warmer as the seconds pass by. Or maybe that’s just the burning look Bucky is giving you from somewhere behind you.

“Excuse me, is this spot taken?” A deep male voice suddenly asks and you smile into your drink before making a vague gesture with your hand.

“Now it is.”

Bruce sits down next to you and puts his drink beside yours. You don’t know what the liquid is, but you know it’s high-proof.

“I can’t believe you’re here. I bet 50 bucks that you wouldn’t attend these parties until next year” He jokes and brushes his thumb over the condensation of the glass in his hand.

“And who bet with you?” You ask, feeling both amused and uncomfortable that you would be a conversational topic at the Stark Tower. Bruce smiles.

“Steve. He said you would come here before this Christmas and he was right.”

“Sorry about the 50 bucks.”

He shrugs.

“Ah, whatever” He says and takes a gulp from his drink, “It was about time.”

You grab your own glass and empty it. Probably not a good idea but free alcohol, my people. Now is the time. You could cut the tension between you and Bucky with a knife and why would you sit through it sober? Tomorrow’s not a work day for you anyway.

You don’t tell Bruce about your little tragedy five months ago, instead you sigh, say “Yup” and order another Long Island Iced Tea. When it arrives, you both clink glasses and take generous sips before putting down the drinks and staring at the shiny bottles in the shelves.

“So. You and Nat, hm?” You repeat the question that opened a very similar conversation some time ago. He gives you The Hand – stop right there.

“Not gonna have this conversation again. Just shut up and drink your alcohol bomb and let me stare at her in peace.”

You snort, do what he says and then follow his gaze over your shoulder to Nat standing a couple of feet away. She’s talking to Steve. You throw a careful look at Bruce who watches them with a resigned look on his face. Sucking in some air, you want to start assuring him that there’s nothing going on between those two when he raises his hand and shows you his palm again – stop right there.

“Don’t wanna hear it.”

Hrmpf. Okay then.

Your eyes wander over the dozens and dozens of heads until they find a certain person you’ve been meaning to look for but meaning to ignore at the same time. Bucky is currently caught up in a conversation with a blonde chick, he has his head slightly tilted down to her and she has a look on her face that indicates she is about to eat him alive.

Hello, jealousy, my old friend. There you are. Would you mind not punching me so hard? That’d be nice.

You clench your teeth and grab your glass from behind you and – well, you guessed it. This drink is disappearing faster than you thought. Should you stop?

“What about you and Bucky?” Bruce teases beside you, he likely noticed your behaviour. You give him The Hand like he did with you earlier and keep your eyes on Bucky. What you don’t do is answer but it seems enough of an answer for Bruce anyway because he starts laughing.

“At least I’m not alone with this.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Bucky and I are not like you and Nat.”

“Sure. Listen, I’ll go outside for a second, make a phone call … and stuff. You okay here?”

You give him a look – “I’m an adult, Bruce” – and nod. He smiles his awkward Banner smile and stands up from his seat. You don’t watch him leave, instead you search for Nat but she, too, has disappeared. Hm. You smile to yourself. Make a phone call, sure.

You barely took another sip when you feel another presence next to you.

“Hi, is this spot taken?” An unknown male voice asks and you turn your head to see a handsome guy with dark blonde, short hair, brown eyes and a charming smile. He wears a white suit shirt tucked into his black pants and a black necklace around his neck whose pendant is hidden under his shirt.

You automatically smile back, “Nope”, and gesture for him to sit down. In his hand is a beer.

“Are you alone?” He asks and eyes you closer, taking his time with checking you out. If he didn’t have such a charming smile, you would lie and tell him your plus one is outside smoking.

“Yeah, I came here on my own” You admit with a shy smile and look back at the crowd.

Two piercing blue eyes meet yours and even from the distance you can see a slight frown on his face. He is still talking to the girl but right now he doesn’t seem to hear a single thing she says.

“I almost can’t believe that. Surely, there must be quite a number of men who would have loved to come here with you” The man says and his cheesy comment makes you laugh, more out of embarrassment than anything else. You look back at him and feel the alcohol get to your head. Which is why you don’t come up with something to excuse yourself and leave but actually stay here and smile at him.

“You’d be surprised” You say because you don’t know what else to answer and throw a quick glance at Bucky but you can’t find him. He’s gone. Just like the blonde. They probably left together. That realization hurts you more than you expected, and your smile vanishes instantly.

“Well, lucky me, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to talk to you right now” He says, oblivious to the fact your mood dropped to negative fifty. You turn to him and give him a polite smile. And then you listen to him talk about the law firm he works for, some kind of fancy one you already forgot the name of the minute he told you, and sip on your drink. Lost in thought.

“That’s awesome” You express your obligatory adoration after a minute, so he won’t ask you questions, not knowing what it was that he just said that is so awesome. He – his name is Mark – rewards your comment with a smile, lays one of his hands on top of yours and looks at one of the expensive looking wine bottles in those shelves.

“Well, tha-“

“Excuse me” Someone suddenly interrupts and at the familiar voice your head swings around and you stare up at Bucky with wide eyes.

“Um, yes?” Mark asks, sounding more irritated than appropriate and you could push him.

One look at Bucky reveals: the man is pissed. His eyes seem darker than usual and his sensual mouth is pressed into a line. And thank god, his hostile demeanour isn’t directed at you.

“Can I help you with anything?” Bucky asks him and steps a little closer to you, making your pulse speed up. Should you intervene? Do you want to intervene? Nope. Not really. Mark was getting more and more annoying to be honest and it looks like Bucky is saving you from him.

“Excuse me? Help me with anything? What exactly do you mean?” Mark clearly doesn’t know who he is talking to or else he would try to keep his tone more respectful. Bucky could knock him out with a single punch.

“I mean” He says lowly, and lays one hand around your waist, “Do you need anything or why are you bothering my date?”

Oh-oh.

Mark looks at you, dumbfounded doesn’t even cut it, and then he frowns. One of his many mistakes tonight is not taking away his hand from yours.

“She told me she’s here on her own and she didn’t even mention you once, man. Maybe step back and bother someone else.”

Double oh-oh.

You feel Bucky’s hand squeeze your waist, likely to regain some composure. Is it wrong that you don’t want him to regain composure?

“As far as I could see, you didn’t even give her the chance to tell you she’s with me. You should give the women an opportunity to say something, too, when you talk to them, man.” Well. You did tell him you’re alone but that’s an unimportant detail, you guess. “Now why don’t you step back and we forget this happened?” He asks and how he asks it, it doesn’t sound like a question, it sounds more like an order and something way back in your head finds that hot. Ugh. The alcohol.

Mark apparently doesn’t have a sense for self-preservation.

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

“Alright then, maybe I can change your mind.” And with that he reaches out to Mark’s hand, grabs his wrist and pulls it away from your hand rather violently, so that Mark loses balance for a second and steps to the side. You watch with big eyes but closed mouth. No way you’re getting inbetween that.

“Ey, man-“ Mark starts but gets interrupted by Bucky’s metal hand laying itself on his shoulder – squeezing hard you bet – and that’s when he finally notices the unusual arm. You can literally see the thought process play out on his face, anger, confusion, realization, regret, fear. You would laugh if it wasn’t so serious.

The people standing next to you have long detected the uneven fight going on over here but because they know who the Winter Soldier is, they don’t even make an attempt to help poor Mark out of his misery. He kind of … deserves it. Just a little bit. A teeny tiny little bit.

“I, um-“

“How about you go over there and don’t look at her again for the rest of the night. How about that?” Bucky asks rhetorically and gives his shoulder a “soft” push. You just know he wishes he could use his strength to its full potential but that really wouldn’t be fair, would it?

“Good idea” Mark says and wants to go for his beer on the counter but Bucky’s arm at his chest stops him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you. Leave it. I’m sure you’ll find another beer.”

Mark nods.

“Of course.”

And then he’s gone. If Bucky had been a stranger right now trying to harass you, your saviour in shiny armor certainly wouldn’t have been Mark. Good to know.

You don’t say anything while Bucky steps to the bar right next to you and orders a beer. You just take in his side profile.

“You would think lawyers had at least some manners” He suddenly says and gives you a look and you can’t help but smile. He knows Mark’s lawyer? So he listened in on the conversation.

“Maybe he was my date and you just cock-blocked me” You say before you can stop yourself but you feel so much more confident than usual. You would never talk to him like that if you were in the lab. Tonight is different, though – mindlessly, you brush over the glass of your second almost empty Long Island Iced Tea – and you wonder why. Probably doesn’t need a scientist to figure out.

Bucky turns to you and props up his metal arm on the counter. You don’t think you have ever been this close to him, his face only inches away and oh my god – have those eyes always looked right into your soul? You almost miss the cocky smile on his face.

“I know he wasn’t. You just met him. And I wouldn’t have intervened if you hadn’t looked so miserable while he tried to get his filthy hands near your body.”

You smile. For some reason.

“So you watched us?” You ask teasingly, and again, the special confidence is speaking out of you. God, when you wake up tomorrow, you will be so embarrassed about this. You know he notices, too, because he raises his eyebrows and his eyes cut to the glass in your hand.

“How much did you drink?”

“Not much. I can take a lot” You lie and give him a determined nod. It doesn’t have the effect you hoped for, though, because the bastard starts grinning widely like you made a joke.

“Ah yeah? You can take a lot? Let me guess, that’s your first drink.”

You play punch his shoulder – of course he doesn’t even move an inch – and empty the rest of your glass. What a smart plan. How does a girl sober up, so she won’t make a fool out of herself in front of the guy she’s in love with? Right. Drink more.

“It’s my fifteenth, thank you very much.”

Bucky throws his head back and laughs and you stare at his neck as if you’re hypnotized or thirsty as fuck or both.

“Maybe I should take you to the hospital then, party girl. I don’t need you to die of alcohol poisoning. Besides, that’s definitely not how I planned our date to go” Bucky says and you suddenly feel heat crawl up your neck.

“Date? I don’t recall planning this as a date. I came here on my own” You say and raise your hand to order another Iced Tea but Bucky is faster.

“Water for the lady please. Thanks.”

You don’t get the chance to make a big deal out of this because he is already back to talking.

“I convinced you to come here five months ago and you saw me dance with a random woman and then decided you’re through with all of this but I told you I wanted to come here with you next time. I didn’t particularly say Date but I think it was pretty clear what I meant” He explains and takes a sip from his beer without his eyes leaving your face. You frown.

“Is that guy logic? Also, don’t remind me of that night. It opened my eyes” You lie again, because it didn’t open your eyes at all and you’re still heads over heels for him like the first day. But you try to regain some ground here and you think you are doing a good job.

“Y/N, I think we need to talk. No sugar coating, no holding back. I lost my patience tonight and we need to clear some things up” He says and puts down his beer. With one arm he grabs your waist, the other goes to your upper back and he pulls you off your chair.

“Let’s dance. We can talk then.”

Dance? How can you possibly talk about your feelings while dancing? Not that you actually want to talk about your feelings, especially not with Bucky. You’d rather die.

And that’s when you notice the calm, jazzy music coming from the speakers, definitely encouraging slow, romantic, meaningful dances. You look at him and see him smile. Sly dog.

****

Forever Tags:  @izzy-the-teawitch @wowpeterparker @brightcolorsoffendme @strangequakson @rosegoldquintis @thirdwheelchurchill  @hazel-eyed-bi @goldenkillmonger @yourwonderbelle @hawaiiantozier @irondadandspidersoncute @thirtiethnovember @fancyfangirl-style @appalo0 @lionheo04 @vivideley @mae-shower @jitterbuck @bookgirlunicorn @stanningissohard

Bucky Barnes Tags:  @ria132love @cauraphernelia

[lazaruspithottub]

Article Thoughts

About a day or so ago I wrote up all of my thoughts on the latest article, profile, on Tessa and I sent them to the knife shoe support group chat in 3 pretty long messages. Some of them weren’t very coherent but with some encouragement I decided to edit my words a little to make them easier to follow and share on here as well. You might see some of the phrases that I have put in anon responses peppered in a little but for the most part this is only stuff that I have dm-d people and/or put in the chat. This also isn’t ‘did you see that roast of the article on tumblr’, it’s simply my thoughts, if the author can share (maybe too many we’ll get to this later) thoughts of her own, then so can I.

So here are my thoughts on the article, I am of course open to discussion, genuine reasoning and criticism.

My issues with the article upfront for organisational purposes:

- Quotes

- Timing and context

- Focus areas

- Intention

- Length of time that it was written compared to the quality

- Problem solution gap/the ending

- Something that is simply revealing things about Tessa vs. something that is helping Tessa tell her story, purpose

1st impressions

Quotes, Timing and Context

My first impressions were that I feel like in many ways that it is, in actuality, such an empty article. There are so few direct quotes where necessary, instead it’s the reporter saying that they “say,” “said” or “told” her something instead of her just writing what they said. To follow on from this, the quotations that do exist are ones that are are often short (and) or if they aren’t then they don’t have any context for how they were or for some even when they were asked. Much of it also isn’t recent, especially from Scott. In fact, of a whole section talking about Scott’s reaction to Tessa during all of this, only one word: “polish”, is directly quoted from him. I also felt that it really suffered from cherrypicking things out and ended up with what ended up being little nuggets that really should’ve been the things that were focussed on and explicitly explored. Eg. It sounded like Tessa and maybe even Scott were willing to talk about the difference between post-Sochi and post-pyc and that either wasn’t talked about with her or wasn’t included.

And, where we ideally should’ve had more direct quotes and context for those quotes, it’s hard to make a judgement of what is the actual truth vs. the journalist/editor’s POV.

In this, I feel that when it becomes primarily the author telling their POV and you lose important things like context and quotes then it strays away from the kind of journalism I like to read and find most credible. It becomes not a profile of Tessa, but actually an opinion piece that wasn’t pitched as such and isn’t actually presented as such which brings me to my next few issues...

Timing, Intention

I also don’t understand the purpose 3 things: firstly of using 6-10 month old interview quotes when journo supposedly has access to people or assumedly at the very least Tessa now; of her not including multiple interviews with coaches and friends and family; and of apparently changing the piece into something analytical when it was originally apparently supposed to contain more quotes and be in a ‘newspaper’ format. A change which to begin with effectively breaks what her subject signed on for and consented to. Tessa doesn’t need to be analysed, she’s not a pet project. She needs compassion, for others to care as much about her as she does them, and someone who knows how to tell *her* story. She needs to know that she can trust people with the things she gives them otherwise she will slowly stop giving entirely.

Furthermore, if the journalist or editors wanted to write an expose style, critique, or an opinion piece on Tessa then she/they are perfectly able to do so. But not in my eyes when a subject has entrusted you with delicate pieces of their lives and you use that to frame them in a subjective way, that really worries me.

Length of time written vs quality, problem solution gap /the ending, purpose

I think as an article considering how long the author wrote it for I’m ultimately just left with ‘this is an Olympic athlete you love who is really struggling’ and no solution as a reader. It felt like an expose revealing things about her, rather than an author helping Tessa tell her story and using Tessa’s words to help people understand and feel compassionate towards her or whatever goal they decided upon.

And the author tried to make up a solution at the end all like: she’ll push through it

But I’m like? How? Solutions? What did T say that her plan to address this is? Did *you* follow up? Despite it’s dramatics and length, it still feels like it’s half the story.

Again, the author waited so long to publish and yet besides the fact that it was definitely pushing a narrative, it felt incomplete with that in say that the “she’s pretty sure she’ll succeed” considering that ‘success’ is the one thing that according to this article T’s struggled with having too much of and adapting to/needing so that makes no sense as a solution for the narrative created by the author throughout the article which is that Tessa has real issues that no amount of success can fix. It’s a self sulfilling prophecy.

Furthermore, to add onto what I just said about it, granted how concerned the author seems to be with the superficial nature of what we consider ‘success’ and perceived happiness vs genuine contentment and happiness, the ending does not seem to gel with the rest of the article at all. Again, while the article is about the fleeting nature of success and the search for genuine contentment, it never fully addresses the actual search of finding of such. The ending in particular for me made the whole thing read very strangely and ultimately like a whole bunch of missed opportunities for more in depth work. The Reporter had a veritable goldmine at her fingertips here, and so much potential, it’s somewhat disappointing.

2nd impressions

I just sat down and read the whole thing again today. I still feel as above and think the thing that I am kind of sad about there is that there is genuine content that desperately needs proper context applied to it. I want it to be the article I imagine that it should be and that I feel Tessa deserves, but the reality is that to me it simply isn’t.

Also Tessa still comes across feeling like a pet project in a way :/

To conclude

With all of this I do not dismiss the article at all, I am concerned for T as a person, just as when it comes to the article I do not accredit any blame for the quality or anything on T at all, I love that she was so willing to be open and honest and to show a vulnerable side to herself, it’s all on the journalist and editors in my eyes.

(I like the Tessa stuff but not the writing)

I still think that many people can learn from this article, even with the pushed narrative, if they read through all of that. We should learn from the stuff that Tessa did say and the fact that she was willing to do this in the first place. It takes a lot to trust people with such details about yourself and I feel a huge amount of compassion for her for doing so.

If she genuinely really is okay with it then I guess I am too and I’m really proud of her for opening up, but I am still opposed to how it was written and I would’ve preferred someone like Steve Milton or someone Tessa had known for longer/had a more personal connection to to be writing pieces like this about her. Oh, and I also really hope that this doesn’t take away from the possibility of a better journalist possibly doing a better piece in the future.

I don’t say any of this to bring you down, again, I think that just the fact that T has been so open is such a positive trajectory to be on.

[purplesurveys]

476

If someone's laughing, do you instantly think they're laughing at you? Egh no, not really. I’ve had people laugh at me but I do know about it; I’ve never felt paranoid like this. What is the strangest thing you've been asked? My mom’s masseuse asked me if I was pregnant after taking a good look at me and deciding I looked familiar. It felt weird and eerie until I told my parents about it the next day and they said “Oh yeah, she’s the one with the third eye.” Didn’t feel as strange after that, but at the time when she looked me dead in the eye and asked me that question it was definitely so weird lmao. What’s the weirdest thing about life that people just accept as normal? Sometimes I wonder how people from the far past got to decide how certain animals were safe to eat even though they a) clearly scream danger, b) have such a complex way of being consumed (like crabs), or c) ARE STRAIGHT UP POISONOUS (like the pufferfish in Japan). But hey, we’re all eating them right now.

What was your favorite game as a child? I liked local games. We had langit-lupa (heaven and earth), piko (hopscotch), ice-ice water (freeze tag), Chinese garter, 10-20, and patintero. What’s the stupidest thing you've ever heard? Anything that comes out of conservative Catholics’ mouths.

What's the most random thing you've done out of boredom? It would have to be that time that I got really depressed last December and I spent all my Christmas savings meant for friends and family on a bunch of coloring books and my own set of coloring pencils. All for myself. It’s a little morbid, but whaever.  What show did your parents not let you watch as a kid? My parents were pretty liberal and weren’t too strict about shows. My mom absolutely hated Mr. Bean though because she was convinced he was the reason my brother didn’t start talking until he was like 6. She would change the channel if it was on, but she didn’t outright ban us or anything. What is your personal catchphrase? I don’t have one. What is the most pleasurable feeling that doesn't involve anything sexual? Biting into your favorite food after a whole day of not eating. What was your 'Oops, wrong person' moment? I don’t think I have one. I’d die of embarrassment. What do you find attractive that isn't considered 'normal' attraction? I really can’t bring myself to be into the muscular/buff look and don’t mind if someone is on the bigger side, is skinny, or is generelly not a gym person. What’s the dumbest thing you’ve done drunk? Fell asleep in the pool. What's your proudest moment in the bathroom? ?????? What’s something you own that gets you lots of compliments? Technically not mine, but Gabie would lend me a windbreaker-type of jacket that was very colorful. It was green, yellow, pink, basically a very bright and gay jacket. I got complimented on it EVERY SINGLE TIME I wore it by nearly every single person who passed by me in school – and I wish I was kidding lmao. She got it in Baguio for 50 pesos ($1), it’s insane. I think it was lost by another person she lent it to. A damn shame. If money was no object, where would you want to live? Canada. Who is your favourite mythological character? In the brief moment I was into mythology, I really liked the way Rick Riordan wrote Apollo to be in his Percy Jackson series. Big ol’goofball. What's something that's happened which couldn't happen at a worse time? [continued from this afternoon] > Had the sign for my gas start blinking while I was stuck in standstill traffic > Get into a car accident while finally making a turn to the gas station > Get pulled over by an officer for changing a lane and nearly hitting a car, because unbeknownst to me, the accident had closed my right side mirror, making me not see my entire right side and I almost hit the car to my right All happened within ten minutes. I was a freshman in high school and couldn’t be more terrified. Police let me go when I started having a panic attack. What is the best pickup line you've ever heard? I don’t like pickup lines. What did aging ruin for you? Dreams. What is the most hilarious thing you’ve ever heard? Idk, I’ve found a lot of things hilarious. What is the darkest thing you have seen on the internet? It would be either Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared or Too Many Cooks. What's something you really enjoy, but can't have? A regularly luxurious life. What Wikipedia article have you recently read? OMG hahaha so there were times in internship where nothing was tasked to me FOR HOURS and I would get super bored. Then I remember hearing from somewhere that Wikipedia has a whole article that’s just a list of unusual deaths that’s happened from modern history until the present, and I gobbled that shit up until I was given a responsibility. I found out more listicles they apparently had – list of last words, list of people who disappeared mysteriously, etc; read all of those too. What's a book you were made to read in school that you really liked? My #1 would have to be Without Seeing the Dawn by Steven Javellana. It’s the most honest narration of the Philippines’ Japanese occupation I’ve ever read. It’s painful to read, but it’s the beauty of it. What objective did you fail to complete this week? I told myself I was gonna start externals work for my org, but I’ve just been so burned out in the last month that I haven’t gotten around to starting yet. I definitely have to this week, though so it’s not like I’ll completely fail it. What could have gotten worse for you but it didn't? Tbh the desire to end my life? I threw in the towel by the time I was 12, but I’m still here so I guess life is doing something right.

What subject should be taught at schools, but isn't? Adulting. Like being taught about taxes, social security, insurance, documents they ask when you apply for a job, etc. I’m 21 and I know nothing about these. I didn’t even know what insurance meant until I was 20. What is the best thing about having a Significant Other? The idea of having a go-to person for everything is very comforting for me. What makes you unusually uncomfortable? Distorted sound effects. It’s probably not unusual though. What is an upcoming purchase you're excited about? It’s no longer future tense because I was finally able to find Pop-Tarts at the nearby mall! I couldn’t find it ANYWHERE in the last couple of years and I’ve been craving it for the same period of time. Then Gab convinced me to try the supermarket at the mall we went to today and we found a box of Chocolate Fudge gloriously sitting on one of the shelves. It was way more expensive than I remember it being, but I waited for so long that I just grabbed it and didn’t care about my budget anymore. What is the worst game you've ever played? The Hannah Montana game for the Wii that I had was so bad it was good. What’s the oddest thing you like to do? I don’t think I have particularly odd habits. What's the funniest news story you've seen in the past few weeks? There’s a satirical article I came across a week ago that was about how dinosaurs got extinct because they ate pineapples on pizza. It was made even more hilarious by the fact that it included a graphic of dinosaurs and there were slices of pizza with pineapples on them photoshopped into the graphic. Definitely pissed off a number of pineapple enthusiasts that day lmaaaaao. What do you really really want right now? I’m so excited to eat my Pop-Tarts but I think I should save them for tomorrow. What do you hide from people? Suicidal thoughts, because I never wanna bother anyone. What was the first sign you knew you had a crush on someone? When I actively avoided her because it hurt to see her. HAHAHAH yuck drama What's the best lemonade you've made from the lemons life gave you? Lasting long enough to create a family in the form of my orgmates. Who was your cartoon crush while growing up? Sam from Totally Spies. What's the best way to deal with religious door knockers? We don’t have that culture here but I most likely would just never open the door. What’s the most hypocritical thing you’ve ever seen or heard? A large chunk of Catholics. Who’s the most interesting person you’ve ever met? When I was still interning at my PR firm, I shadowed my supervisor in an interview that one of our clients had for that day. Our client’s representative is the biggest badass I’ve met. He’s from South Africa and was born and raised at a time when apartheid was still around. He’s white, so he was brainwashed in school to think that they were superior and for a time, he really thought his race was. Then he got to work under Nelson Mandela’s party when he was much older and that was the only time he realized how backwards that mindset was. Anyway he had Mandela’s spies stalk his ass every single day because of his background and he ultimately got shot twice. There’s loads more stories to tell but I don’t want to give him away. 

When I was watching him get interviewed he proved to have a lot of knowledge on history and current events too so that’s another plus. He was just super cool and it was a breath of fresh air to talk to a foreigner that was more aware of social situations than the average Filipino. What just doesn't impress you? Carly Rae Jepsen. What’s the worst possible way to introduce yourself? There’s no worst way; just don’t try too hard because the bullshit can be detected so easily. What makes you wish that you were born in the past or the future? How easy it was to make a living and score a job decades ago. What tragic event was coincidentally beneficial to you? My breakup. What's something people are proud of, but it doesn't impress you? ‘Miracles.’ What's the worst possible moment to go and play on a bouncy castle? Doing it with a bunch of sweaty, rowdy kids. Who is the greatest ever comedian? Not really into comedians so my recommendations might suck for some. What’s your irrational fear? Commercials at night. What's your oldest memory? Playing in a Winnie the Pooh tent when I was 3. What can you not wake up without? Checking the time. What did you think was cool when you were younger that you now think isn’t? Wristbands. What are your favourite or most memorable lines from any movie/show? “How do you like them apples?” from Good Will Hunting. What's something people love to hate? The Kardashians. What’s something that is underrated but extremely useful? Being polite.

[vrepitsorrynotsorry]

A Shotory Baking Show AU

Title: Ready, Set, Bake! Theme: AU Rating: G Pairing: This one runs toward the Shotor shippy, but it’s certainly not porn. Warnings/Spoilers: Not really any spoilers... Kind of a Great British Baking Show in space AU. A/N: I binged what was on Netflix and it spawned this idea. I regret nothing. Also, the first inklings of this were spawned during @blackpaladinweek, so credit to the AU prompt as well. Also also, I just realized while editing that Allura is never mentioned. Oops! Maybe she’s one of the judges?

“Welcome back to the Great Intergalactic Baking Show grand finale on the picturesque planet Arus. It’s lovely weather for the picnic gala, isn’t it, Lance?”

“You’ve got that right, Coran! Soon all the original contestants, family, and friends will gather here for what’s going to be some fantastic food, but before that, let’s head inside the tent for the first of our final three bakes!”

***

Shiro hadn’t even really wanted to enter the competition. Keith had entered on his behalf. He wasn’t too humble to admit that his baking was pretty good, but he just wasn’t all that competitive anymore.

He’d taken it up as a hobby after an injury in service to Galaxy Garrison had lost him an arm and earned him an early retirement. Fortunately, the intergalactic community offered excellent options for cybernetic prosthetics.

He’d even toyed with the idea of opening a small bakery, but he just wasn’t sure his offerings were good enough to bring in sufficient funds for the venture to be worthwhile. Keith had said this was the perfect opportunity to prove to himself that his baking was up to snuff and that judging from previous seasons of the show, the competition wasn’t as cutthroat as most other shows tended to be.

He was still shocked he’d made it to the finals, but apparently his grasp of the basics was impressive. What he lacked in showy designs and fanciful flavor combinations was made up for in technique and consistency.

***

“Our first finalist, Shiro, has been a contender throughout the whole competition, eh, Coran?”

“Indeed! In fact, I think his steadiness and calm has been of great help to some of the other bakers along the way.”

“Next up is Hunk, a fan favorite and super awesome dude. His bakes have never failed to please”

“A natural talent for sure!”

“And Lotor. He’s, uh... He’s Lotor.”

“Unique indeed!”

***

Shiro was pretty sure Hunk was going to win. That kid had everything. His presentations were beautiful, his flavors--even when he went for something off the wall--were always amazing, and he had an uncanny ability to make fantastic things in the technical challenges even when there were hardly any instructions.

Besides being an amazing cook, Hunk was also a genuinely nice guy. He could be a little overly cautious and occasionally cynical, but he was kind to all the other competitors, even on the very rare occasion that he had an off day. The judges seemed to love him as much as everyone else.

***

Matt, an old roommate and current good friend of Shiro’s, and his little sister Katie “call me Pidge” worked on the technical crew for the show. All the finalists got to watch the family interview segments the night before the final as a sort of private celebration and a chance to see the clips without having to wait for the show to air, but Matt stopped by Shiro’s apartment a few days before.

“Hey, uh, remember how we all thought that maybe Lotor asked the show not to go talk to his parents because they were really busy?”

“Yeah?”

“It turns out he had this huge falling out with them. Pidge and I edited the footage as best we could, but it’s...not great.”

Shiro frowned. “Well, that’s depressing, but why are you telling me this?”

“Partly because it’s really bothering me and Pidge said she’d stab me if she had to listen to me talk about it anymore, and partly because Lotor seemed to get along with you okay. He’s gonna be blindsided by the video because I think he honestly thought the show just wouldn’t do a clip for him, even though he’s in the finale.”

Shiro sighed. “We’re not exactly close, Matt. I only see him when we’re filming, just like everybody else. I don’t have any way to contact him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

***

It wasn’t like Lotor was overtly rude to any of the other competitors or anything, he was just coolly aloof. He was terse to the camera when he was asked questions about his baking, and he didn’t like to make small talk with the other contestants.

The nicest of the others brushed it off as shyness or awkwardness, though some thought it was arrogance. Lotor’s family was fairly well-known, after all. Galra Inc. was probably the universe’s largest private security firm and arms supplier.

Given the general stereotype in the media of fiercely competitive and frequently violent Galra, many people were surprised Lotor was allowed to participate at all. There had been gambling odds on how long it would take for the pressure to make Lotor crack and have an explosive outburst.

At first, Shiro wasn’t sure what to make of the man other than the fact that his creativity level was insane. Sometimes his designs were overly ambitious and his flavor combinations were questionable, but he was fearless about attempting all of it.

Then the “tripping incident” happened. To be fair, and the camera footage totally corroborated it, Nyma didn’t actually trip Shay, she just didn’t warn her about the step stool Shay couldn’t see over the tray of cupcakes she was carrying. Everyone in the vicinity, including Nyma, to her credit, rushed to see if she was all right, except Lotor, who somehow managed to catch the tray and the majority of the cupcakes. If he hadn’t, she wouldn’t have had all the components she needed for her showstopper. Maybe he hadn’t verbally expressed concern, but he clearly had at least some sense of fairness and competitive respect, which was better than nothing.

The week after “Trip Gate”, both Shiro and Lotor found themselves incorporating potatoes into a savory component, and their peeling techniques were almost identical.

“Got assigned a lot of kitchen duty?” Shiro inquired.

Lotor grunted an assent. “I had an unfortunate tendency to challenge authority. You?”

“I actually volunteered mostly,” Shiro admitted. “I found it relaxing.”

The cameramen were currently at the other end of the tent watching Lance and Coran quiz Hunk about his signature dish, and Lotor seemed to be in an uncharacteristically playful mood. “Shall we make it a challenge to see who can finish peeling first?”

“What’s the prize?” he asked Lotor with a small grin.

“Respect?” Lotor offered with a shrug.

Shiro pretended to take offense. “You mean I don’t have that already?” Lotor snorted but managed to maintain a straight face. “How about, if I win, you have to smile--on camera.”

Lotor looked mildly alarmed at the suggestion before he managed to compose himself once again. “Fair enough, I suppose. If I win, you have to say something nice about yourself on camera.”

“Touché.” Shiro had a tendency to be a bit self-disparaging. He thought he’d been doing a fairly good job of reining that in during the competition, but apparently he was wrong.

Shiro won their peeling competition by a narrow margin, so Lotor obligingly greeted Lance, Coran, and the camera crew with a dazzling smile. They were momentarily speechless, but they recovered quickly.

Shiro was a bit taken aback himself. He wasn’t afraid to admit that Lotor was an attractive man, but smiling seemed to take it up another notch. Alas, as soon as the camera turned to Shiro, Lotor slipped back into the impassive mask he usually presented to everyone, and Shiro realized it was the only time he had ever seen Lotor express more than a smirk.

However, he seemed to have found a bit of the infamous competitiveness of his people. It wasn’t overly aggressive but rather surprisingly almost friendly. It became a habit for them to set themselves side challenges, and Shiro was certain he wouldn’t have enjoyed his time on the show half as much without the lighthearted rivalry. Lotor never said as much, but Shiro hoped their interactions were meaningful to him as well.

***

The night of the viewing party arrived, and Lotor was late. Shiro was beginning to wonder whether the other man even planned to attend when Lotor stormed in the door speaking angrily into a communicator.

“For the last time,” Lotor snarled to whoever was on the other end of the exchange, “I’m not dropping out of the competition. You’re being ridiculous. My competing obviously hasn’t affected your business at all because you didn’t even know I was actually doing it until they came to interview you.” He paused, and Shiro could just barely make out a low voice telling Lotor something. After a few moments he let out an entirely humorless bark of laughter.

“You can’t fire me; I resigned the day I first told you about the competition. You never listen to me, do you? Didn’t you notice my office has been empty for weeks? Also, those muffin baskets everybody misses aren’t bought from some place only I know about--I used to bake them myself. Good luck replacing both my engineering and design skills and the snacks all your clients enjoyed so much.”

Lotor cut off the connection and stomped across the room to the employees preparing the clips for viewing. He was still bristling with anger, and one of the hapless show workers hid behind a data pad, as though that would do them any good. Lotor took a deep breath, and his cornered audience winced in anticipation of shouting.

“I imagine my father’s interview has been heavily edited?” Lotor’s voice was quiet and calm when he did speak, and dangerously so when coupled with his stormy expression. The man with the data pad shield nodded. “Do you still have the uncut footage?” Another furtive nod. “I think my father would really prefer that you air his complete interview. We wouldn’t want anybody to get the wrong idea about him being proud of me, now would we?” A rapid shake of the head. “Excellent.” With that, Lotor swept back outside.

Shiro stood shocked, staring after him.

“Wow.” Shiro started at the voice directly behind him and turned to find Hunk standing there. “Here I was afraid to watch my own clip because I’m sure my family told embarrassing stories about me. Think he’s okay?”

“I wouldn’t be.” Shiro debated what to do for a few moments. “Hey, Hunk, think you could stall the viewing for a bit? I’m going to go after him.”

“Good luck!”

***

Lotor hadn’t gone very far, fortunately. Shiro found him leaning against a large rock and staring up at the stars.

“I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that.” Lotor broke the silence without even looking at Shiro.

“While that was the most emotional I’ve ever seen you, you seemed pretty contained to me.”

“I should apologize to that crew member,” Lotor remarked casually. “It wasn’t even his fault and I think I almost gave him a heart attack.”

“Let’s head back in there, then,” Shiro suggested. “We can watch Hunk be embarrassed by a family that loves him to extremes, my brother be forced to speak full sentences to a stranger with a camera, make heckling comments over whatever your father had to say, and you can apologize. Maybe you can bake that guy one of your famous muffin baskets.” Shiro couldn’t help a tiny bit of teasing.

“Fine,” Lotor agreed with an exaggerated disgruntled huff. “Ancients, I hope nobody pities me. I hate that.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t dare.”

The clip viewing was actually fairly amusing. Hunk turned beet red several times, and his mother called him no less than twelve different pet names in Samoan. (“Ooh, what’s that one mean?” “C’mon, guys... Can’t you just let it go?” “Hang on a tick, I’m looking it up right now.”) Even though they managed to get Keith to talk for a while, Shiro’s clip still contained unfortunate stretches of silence. (“Believe it or not, these are edited down from the original awkward silences.” “They’re only awkward for the interviewer. It looks like a comfortable silence for you and Keith.”) Zarkon’s interview was actually shorter than Shiro expected. He ranted for a few moments about Lotor’s participation in the competition being “a black spot in the history of the company” and a shamefully passive pastime. (“He’s obviously never kneaded bread dough.” “I know, right?”) Then he kicked the camera man out of his office. The remainder of the time was just the poor guy attempting to get absolutely anyone else in the building to talk about Lotor, including his mother, Honerva, who was so caught up in her work she actually had to be reminded that they were trying to get her to talk about her own son.

Afterward, there were refreshments, which rather shockingly did not include any baked goods. When Lotor made a joke about that being “a black mark” on the show, Shiro was pretty sure he was going to be fine.

He introduced Lotor to Matt.

“Having now seen that,” Lotor wondered, “what exactly was the edited version?”

“Honestly?” Matt scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “We had some footage of the outside of the building and just kind of made up a voiceover about the basics of the company and how your dad is the boss. It was practically a commercial.”

“Did you ever say that I worked there?” Matt shook his head. “You should air that version then. They’ll have no reason to take offense. I get to walk away from this show after tomorrow, but I imagine you all would like to keep your jobs.”

***

Right before the start of the first of their final three bakes, Shiro approached Lotor, who was setting up for what looked like his usual all-out performance. He had something he’d been wanting to ask Lotor, but he thought he’d better work up to it.

“So, who do you think will--”

“Hunk. Obviously.”

“You seem to be putting in a lot of effort if you’re so sure of that,” Shiro remarked.

“Yes, well, I’m not sure I know how to do anything but my best.”

“I can relate.” Shiro had agonized over his own signature dish planning even though his chances of winning were quite slim in his opinion.

“Did you...need something?” Lotor’s question reminded Shiro that he’d just been standing there, thinking and staring.

“You said last night that you quit your job with Galra Inc?”

Lotor frowned. “Yes. I have money saved up to last me a while, and I also told you I hate pity.”

“That’s not what this is,” Shiro insisted. This was not going very well. “How would you like to be my partner in opening up a new bakery?”

Lotor blinked. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about doing it for years, but I never thought I could turn a profit. I mean, my baking is good, but it’s also pretty basic. I don’t really have anything to draw in customers. Well, now I have some notoriety from the show, but how long will that last? You’re really creative, and I thought we might be able to work well together. You know, if you want to try it.”

Lotor blinked some more in the wake of that verbal barrage. He started to open his mouth to reply, but Shiro was ordered to his own station to begin the show. After that, Shiro was too busy baking to beat himself up about it much.

Hunk won, and Shiro was genuinely happy for him. He’d earned it.

Lotor cautiously approached Shiro as Hunk was being mobbed by his very happy and proud family.

“I think you’d be a good partner,” he blurted. “Business partner, I mean. The bakery? We could do that.”

“Yeah?”

Lotor extended a hand and they shook on it. Shiro may not have been the big winner of the day, but he still counted the experience as a win.

[heckyeahitsnick]

Jealous of One of the Boys  - Liam (1/5)

Although it was still new and you were still in the stage of getting to know each other, you were really excited about your relationship with Liam and felt that everything was going well. It had been a while since you’ve felt this way about a boy, love-struck and smitten, ever since your last ex-boyfriend from a three year ago, memories of whom left a bad taste in your mouth and the inability to ever eat at Olive Garden again (the place he deemed suitable to break your heart and end things). But Liam was nothing like the other guys in your past. He was kind and sweet, always rushing to open your door on dates, and considerate, ensuring arriving on time and offering his coat in the cold. He was also charming; when he met your group of close friends, he was able to break down their apprehensive walls within the hour, assuring them that he was equally as entranced by you and had no interest in breaking your heart. Which is why, as you were minutes away from meeting Liam’s best friends for a small dinner, you vowed to make sure to impress them.

“Hey babe,” he greeted with a peck to your lips as you stepped inside his apartment, determined and nervous. You returned the greeting and took off your flats before stepping onto the plush, white carpet, still unaccustomed to the luxurious loft he called home. “Okay,” you said, loosening your grip on the neck of the expensive wine bottle you purchased, leaving your college student bank account severely depleted, and handed it to Liam “I bought this for the boys, I wasn’t sure if they’d prefer red or white so I bought the most expensive one at the store so it’d better taste freaking amazing.” With the determined face of a footballer before a big match, you gathered your hair into a ponytail, tightening it as you enunciated, “It’s almost game time. Remember, I am the most loving girlfriend you’ve ever had and I adore you and you adore me. We’re overall, adorable. I’m super caring but also, I’m not clingy. The not clingy part is important. Did you get that Liam?” You screeched the last part a bit, borderline hysterical, as your boyfriend was snickering into the palm of his hands, eyes aglow with amusement and adoration at your antics.

“Love, seriously. They’re going to think you’re as brilliant as I do. And they’re pigs. They don’t even have a palate refined enough to differentiate between red and white wine,” he cooed into your ears, capturing you into an encompassing hug so you were unable to continue flitting around the room to straighten things up. Allowing yourself to take the pleasure of leaning against his hardened chest for one moment, you inhaled the comforting smell of his rich cologne, smiled to yourself, and pushed him away from you.

“I’m not taking any chances so I need you to bring your A-game. I have a list of talking points. I’ll bring up sports – don’t worry I googled the highlights of yesterday’s game. Then, I’ll be sure to mention how I’m majoring in anthropology so they’ll know I’m smart and goal oriented and finally, I’ll let it slip that my parents are both surgeons so they won’t think I’m after your money,” you stated, grinning like a proud Cheshire cat, a complete contrast from Liam’s widened eyes and gaped mouth, somewhat horrified and amused. “I dunno if you knew this but this isn’t a job interview. And the boys aren’t my parents,” he chuckled, apparently choosing to find your nervous state to be humorous.

His word however had the opposite effect that he had hoped, as you weren’t comforted but rather your eyes widened in horror as you gasped “Parents?! I didn’t even think about that! I have to get my fancy dress dry cleaned if we’re meeting your parents and then I’ll have to – no! No, I have to focus!” you stressed, throwing your hands to shield your eyes from being distracting from anything peripheral.

Your retort was interrupted by a series of knocking, prompting Liam to stride across the room to open the door as you hastily tugged at your carefully planned outfit to make sure you were presentable. Liam shot you a loving smile before he swung the door open, followed a variation of “Hey Liam,” being delivered by four different voices. Taking a deep breath and stepping forward, you put your plan into action. “Hey guys! I’m Y/N! Liam has told me so much about you all,” you greeted, hoping you projected how excited you felt despite your nervousness. You were about to follow up and ask if they were hungry when your eyes met a face you were sure you’d never see again, especially because you painstakingly took the time to unfriend him on all social medias, delete his number, and burned all of the pictures you had of him during a dramatic but necessary night in with your girls while getting drunk and nursing your broken heart. “Harry?!” you exclaimed a bit too loudly, the epitome of shock, as you looked at the boy who had your heart all those years ago, and had carelessly returned it a little bruised and definitely broken. “Y/N?” Harry said, equally bewildered, “Wha – What are you doing here? How do you know Liam?”

Liam, always charismatic and caring, but never observant, wrapped his arms around you and interjected, “This is Y/N, my girlfriend! Small World! How do the two of you know each other?”

“Um. We used to date actually. A while back,” Harry answered, seemingly breaking out of a trance that consisted of him staring at your face with wonder. You rushed ahead, meaning every word, “A long time ago, yes. I swear I didn’t know you all were friends, Liam, or I would’ve said something. But it doesn’t mean anything!”

One of the boys, Louis, piped up to ease the tension “Well, it’s nice to meet you Y/N. That’s such a crazy coincidence that I’m sure means nothing,” he ushered the other two boys into the kitchen, “We’re just going to go on ahead and start eating.”

“And definitely not talk about how awkward this is!” piped up the blonde one, who you knew to be Niall. “And we’re also definitely not going to eavesdrop!” exclaimed Zayn, each receiving a blow to the head by Louis as he all but dragged them away, leaving you alone with your current and former lover.

Liam loved Harry, he truly did. But he had always felt a little envious of him, always believed him to get things easily in life and would be often annoyed at how just the slight appearance of his dimples would lead to girls swooning and having doors of opportunity opened for him. And now, after he felt that he found ‘the one’, the girl who he has been enraptured by since day one -  when you first met at a party and immediately engaged in a drunken conversation about your fan theories for Stranger Things (with your hair messily cascading down your back and your smile widened with lack of inhibition, he was enamored by you even then, especially then) - he finds that Harry loved you first. And worse, that you used to love Harry once upon a time. But the worst part that had Liam scared and wanting to clutch you into his arms (much like an only child with their beloved toy when asked to share), was the look in Harry’s face as his eyes bore into yours. Liam knew Harry enough to recognize the expression of regret, nostalgia, and desire.

Taking a quick peek at you, his heart stopped doing somersaults in his chest and began to beat at a steadier pace, as you were just looking back at him with worry and care, not even paying attention to Harry’s leering.  One arm tightened the hold Liam had against your waist, pulling you towards him almost possessively, while his other hand formed into a fist as he tried to mask his jealousy. He leaned over to give you a passionate kiss, his mouth amorously pressed against yours, before adopted fake complacence, “It’s okay love. It was a long time ago.” Eyeing Harry, he continued, “Besides, you’re with me now,” as he steered you to the kitchen to rejoin the others for dinner. And if his hands slipped to settle on the curve of your ass as you walked away, directly in the line of vision of a disgruntled Harry trailing behind, well he could always feign innocence.

[lizzy-matthews]

Practice Challenge 2

Being a shapeshifter made Lara Duval’s life as easy as pie. She could travel the world and be anything or anyone she wanted to be. She used her shapeshifting abilities to help others and stop crimes wherever she could.

Lara’s only complaint was that she never had the chance to grow close to anyone. She’d never had a family; she’d been an orphan for as long as she could remember. She couldn’t make any long lasting friends, either, since she was moving around so much. She was also never the same person for too long of a period, so any friends she made would likely have a difficult time figuring out who she was or what she looked like at any given time.

But Lara didn’t care about any of that. Her dream was to see every inch of the world, and help as many people as she could along the way. She enjoyed the feeling of shapeshifting, too. She liked being able to wake up one day and decide that she wanted a different hair color, or maybe even try being a boy for a day. She loved the freedom of being able to change herself day in and day out, whenever she may choose.

  I let out a sigh as I set down the fancy pen. The first thing I’d done when they showed me to my new room in the palace was ask for a notebook and pen, since it hadn’t seemed like there were any lying about. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I couldn’t write the entire time I was here.

I wish I could be as comfortable about changing my appearance as my newest character, Lara Duval. Unfortunately, I’m not comfortable with it, and I feel incredibly awkward as I sit in a new dress with practically a new face on me, in a completely new place I never would’ve imagined I’d ever see. They’d certainly done a lot of work to change my appearance, though I think it was just for the cameras for the initial pictures.

Today was quite possibly the longest and craziest day of my life.

It started out with waking up to some palace officials speaking loudly to my parents in the kitchen of our home. I freaked out, because I hadn’t set any sort of alarm and nobody had woken me up. I quickly jumped out of bed, threw on the clothes the palace had sent for me to wear today, struggled to pin the symbolic white daisy of Clermont in my hair, and ran down the stairs.

“You’re late,” a strict-looking woman stated, glaring at me as I entered the kitchen.

My heart raced. “I’m so sorry. Nobody woke me up—”

The woman waved her hand as though she had no care for my excuses.

“Come, we must be off now. Clermont is waiting to say their goodbyes to you.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the house, my parents and the male palace official rushing to follow behind us.

I was led straight to a car, which drove us to a large city center with a raised stage set up. There were hundreds, if not thousands of people looking up at the stage and cheering. I was ushered up onto the stage, where the mayor of Clermont stood in front of a microphone, holding his hand out to me. I shook his hand nervously, and the mayor turned back to face the crowd.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of Clermont,” he announced in a loud, booming voice, “I present to you, Lady Elizabeth Matthews! Let us all wish her the best of luck in the Selection!” The crowd got impossibly louder as they cheered for me. I couldn’t believe all these people had come just to see me. I wasn’t anyone special; my name had simply been chosen randomly out of a pile.

I smiled and waved shyly as the mayor continued talking for a few more minutes. Then I was led once again off the stage and back over to a car. My family stood by the car, and I knew this was the time to say our goodbyes.

My mom immediately rushed over to me and pulled me in for a big hug. “We’re so proud of you, Lizzy. At least try to make some new friends while you’re there. Don’t spend all your time by yourself, writing.” I rolled my eyes as she pulled away. I’m not a total recluse; it’s not like I spend all my time by myself.

I turned to my father, who gave me a reluctant smile. I knew he was worried about me leaving, but he wasn’t going to show it. “Stay safe, Lizzy. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.” I gave him a tight smile, then started to turn toward my brother, but before I could move very far, I was already enveloped in his arms.

“If this prince tries anything, you knee him just like I showed you,” Graham whispered in my ear.

I laughed as I pushed against him. “Relax, Graham. The prince seems like a nice guy.”

Graham shook his head. “Yeah, of course he seems like a nice guy. It’s not like the press are going to announce to the world that the next King of Illea is a horrible person.”

“I’ll be fine,” I tried to convince him.

“It’s time to go, we’re running late!” The female palace official gave a shrill cry next to me. I got the feeling that we weren’t actually running late, but just that she liked to be very early.

I turned back to my family just before getting in the car. “I love you guys.”

My mom gave a watery smile and leaned into my dad, who put his arm around her. Graham gave me a small wave, and then I pulled myself into the car.

I was then rushed to an airport, where I found four other girls waiting. Apparently, I was the last to arrive. We were quickly ushered onto an airplane and soon, we were in the air.

Flying was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. We were above the clouds, and it felt like a whole new world. I don’t even think I could accurately put the feeling of flying to words. It felt like we could be going anywhere in the world, or possibly some other world. After the initial takeoff, and after we’d been in the plane for about a half hour, I turned to face the other girls, who had been completely silent up until then.

“Um, hi. I’m Lizzy Matthews, what are your names?” I asked, trying to start a conversation, even though talking to other people isn’t always a strong suit of mine.

“I’m Britain Mason,” the girl with light brown hair next to me answered.

“Hello! I’m Madeline, nice to meet you!” The dark-haired girl across from me said.

“Hey, I’m Berkeley,” the girl with red-brown hair continued.

“I’m Aria Turner,” came a small voice from further back in the plane. Aria was sitting farther away from us, and it didn’t really look like she wanted to talk, though I couldn’t tell whether it was timidity or arrogance that led her to not join us.

“What provinces are you from? I’m from Clermont,” I continued, hoping this was sounding less like an interview than I thought it did.

“Kent,” Britain replied curtly.

“I am from Midston,” Madeline answered.

“I’m from Allens, which is pretty far north from Clermont, I think,” Berkeley commented.

I tried to picture a map of where Allens was in my head, then gave a little laugh. “Yeah, kind of. I bet it gets cold there.” Then I started thinking about what cold weather implies. “Ooh! Do you get snow?” I asked excitedly. I’d never seen snow, but I always pictured it being beautiful. A lot of stories I write take place in areas where it snows, but I have to describe it all from imagination, since I can’t speak from experience.

“I would love to see snow,” Madeline commented. “Thanks to the climate in Midston I have never seen it.”

“Yeah. We get snow at least once a year.”

I was amazed at the way Berkeley just shrugged off the concept of snow. I couldn’t imagine it being boring or tiresome, but perhaps if you experienced it so often, it may become not as interesting.

We all then started talking about our hobbies. I talked about my writing, which Madeline seemed impressed with, but Berkeley kind of shrugged off. I hoped she just wanted to move on to other topics, and wasn’t necessarily trying to be rude about it. Not everyone is going to be as interested in my writing as I am, I guess. Madeline talked about how she likes to cook, which is great because I like baking sometimes. It was nice to have some sort of connection with one of these girls. We could be living together for a while, after all.

“Are you all nervous for the Selection?” Berkeley asked after a while.

I thought about if for a moment before answering. “I’m a little nervous, but I’m excited for the adventure of it all.” And that is true. I’m excited to get to see another world, another type of life than what I’ve always known. It will certainly give me a lot of material to work with for some new stories.

“Yeah, I’m so nervous!” Madeline squealed. “I haven’t slept a full night since my name was drawn.”

“I think the experience will be interesting, for sure,” Britain commented.

“Honestly, I’m just so excited about the dresses,” Berkeley laughed.

We spent the rest of the plane ride talking about everything we’re excited for about the Selection. We also talked about Prince Haiden a little bit, especially about how nobody really knows what he’s like when he’s not on camera. The girls’ comments made me think about Graham’s worries, and I suddenly thought that maybe I’d made a mistake signing up for the Selection. Maybe the prince really is a horrible person, and now I was just throwing myself at him, along with 34 other girls.

I was brought out of my thoughts when the pilot announced that we were landing. What was done was done, and there was no use regretting anything now. I would be a part of the Selection, and perhaps the prince really would be a nice guy. Maybe I really would fall in love with him. It all remained to be seen.

I looked out the window as the plane descended, and was once again amazed by the sight. Angeles was beautiful from above, all twinkling lights. It was strange that the sun was still out, since I knew it would’ve been dark in Clermont, but I remembered that there was a three hour time difference between Clermont and Angeles. Hopefully that won’t take too long to get used to.

When we disembarked from the plane, there were crowds of people waiting for us, cheering and waving and holding signs. I smiled at them and started waving after my initial fright. I was amazed to see so many signs with my name on them, though there were many more with other girls’ names. I tried to wave at every person with a Lizzy sign, but it was hard to keep track of it all when we were being ushered over to a large black car.

The car drove us through all the crowds and all the way to the palace.

My initial thought when I first saw the palace was that it was breathtaking. It was so huge, and I couldn’t believe one family lived in there. Of course, there were many rooms for servants and guests, but essentially it was meant solely for the royal family. I couldn’t imagine that anyone had seen every inch of the place.

We hardly had time to breathe once we left the car. We were immediately brought into the palace and into a room full of bustling maids and stylists and girls. There were so many dresses lining the walls that I thought there might very well be one for every day of the year.

A woman grabbed my arm and pulled me over to a chair in front of a large mirror.

“Elizabeth Matthews, correct?” She asked, tapping on a clipboard she was holding.

“Lizzy,” I corrected.

The woman nodded, then set down her clipboard, turning to look at me in the mirror. “Hmm…” she sighed, inspecting my face carefully. “There’s a lot of potential here. Alright. Girls!” She called out, and two maids rushed over to us. They all then began working on my hair and applying copious amounts of makeup to my face. It seemed to take forever before they turned my chair to have me face the mirror.

I hardly recognized myself. My hair had been darkened to a slightly deeper red, though I’m pretty sure it’s temporary. They applied a lot of dark makeup to my eyes, making me look older and more sophisticated. I sighed. Hopefully that was only a one time thing, and I’ll be able to look at least a little more like myself for the rest of the Selection.

I was then dressed in a beautiful black dress before being put in a line for a small photoshoot. The photographer pulled over one girl at a time, snapped a few pictures, and pushed her away before grabbing the next girl. As soon as the girls were done, they were led out of the room, presumably up to their own rooms.

My little photoshoot came and went before I hardly even noticed. I just hope I actually looked okay in my pictures, since I barely even registered that they were being taken.

Then I had been led up to my bedroom, where three maids were waiting. Lily, Hanna, and Rose, as they introduced themselves. I quickly told them I just wanted to be by myself, but to bring me a pen and notebook if they could.

So here I am now, staring at my notebook with barely any words written on the page. How can I write about a shapeshifter, when I am so far despising this shift in my own appearance?

Well, aside from the makeover, the rest of the experience so far has been amazing. Although the entire day was rushed, the palace is absolutely beautiful, and my own room is amazing. The palace staff seem nice, though it was sometimes difficult to see that when they were busy rushing me about.

Now that I have time to myself to be peaceful, I’m glad that I’m here. It may take some getting used to, but I think this whole experience will be an adventure, and I can’t wait to see where it takes me next.

[njawaidofficial]

Cardi B Is Rap’s Dolly Parton

https://styleveryday.com/2018/04/14/cardi-b-is-raps-dolly-parton/

Cardi B Is Rap’s Dolly Parton

Jamie Mccarthy / Getty Images

In the sixth season of VH1’s Love & Hip Hop: New York, in an episode that aired in January 2016, Cardi B takes an etiquette class. At one point, the instructor suggests that, if Cardi were to take a meeting, she should consider covering up her chest (her cleavage is on full display through her sheer black shirt). Cardi explains, “I don’t want people to look at my crooked teeth, so I’d rather them look at my titties.” It’s one of many moments of levity, but it also ushers in truth. Cardi’s body is an asset and a tool, yes. It draws attention and thus money. But focusing too much on it — and the ensuing dialogue around it — turns it from feature into a distraction. There’s much more to see.

If, as Rolling Stone declared, 2017 was the year of Cardi B, 2018 might very well be a repeat.

The 25-year-old rap marvel and social media maven released her record-setting debut album, Invasion of Privacy, last week to rave reviews. Even Oprah got into it. Meanwhile almost every major cultural outlet in America has spun their take on Cardi. Myriad articles have declared her a powerful brand, an internet sensation, and praised her proudly curvaceous body.

Inevitably, Cardi often gets compared to other women of hip-hop past and present. But while the Afro-Latina rapper is a fan of her predecessors and contemporaries, she’s been embraced due to her ability, like those before her, to forge her own lane. If anything, especially considering the apparent obsession with her physical dimensions, she’s becoming hip-hop’s Dolly Parton. And that’s a good thing.

Both Cardi and Parton regularly reference their bodies and curves — an approach that titillates and tickles the public — but there is far more to them. They’re both comedic personalities, blurring the line between music artist and character comedian at times. They’re both savvy businesswomen (if Cardi’s success endures, fingers crossed for a Bardi-themed amusement park). They’re both up-front about their belief in God and the power of prayer. They’re both conscious of their vocal instruments and use them with careful calculation. But perhaps most importantly, they help redefine their oft-stereotyped and maligned subcultures.

Much of the recent press coverage around Cardi has focused on her body. In particular, a recent GQ profile spawned Twitter outrage over its perceived condescension and physical objectification of the artist.

In the profile, writer Caity Weaver describes how Cardi “built her body for optimal viewing at medium-to-long-distance range” by using “cutting-edge Millennium science, in the form of orbicular breast implants and illegal buttocks injections.” She also attributes Cardi’s wild success as a former stripper to this “engineering,” while saying her “extremely large breasts” helped her become a breakout star on Love & Hip Hop: New York. (It’s true that Cardi modified her body to help her earn more as a stripper, but she has also said that it was her jokey charisma and Instagram videos that truly set her apart from the other dancers.)

Critics of the profile questioned the obsession with her physique, and some considered it fetishizing. Other articles and interviews have spotlighted her body too, albeit more briefly. Allison P. Davis’s profile on the Cut called Cardi “built to be watched” and highlighted a moment when Cardi disrobed in front of her, “her hands moving down her body as she appreciates her own hydrogen-bomb-shaped boobs (she bought them, she says proudly).” A 2017 Rolling Stone cover story opened with Cardi “butt-naked in the doorway of her hotel bathroom, yelling about her vagina.” Another cover story, this time from the Fader, aptly noted how Cardi is “decidedly un-puritanical when it comes to her body.”

Dolly Parton

Frederick M. Brown / Getty Images

To the layperson, Dolly Parton is also an artist whose physical appearance (she’s candid about her large bust and the implants she later got for upkeep) has historically distracted some from appreciating her work ethic and talent. In Willie: An Autobiography, the musician Chet Atkins claims that a record company executive once said in a meeting, “We’ve got to stop Dolly Parton from wearing those terrible wigs. She looks like a hooker!” In 1997, the first cloned mammal, a sheep derived from a mammary gland cell, was named after her because the scientists “couldn’t think of a more impressive pair of glands than Dolly Parton’s.” A 1992 interview on Live With Regis and Kathie Lee has a few more direct, but equally egregious examples: Regis asks how Dolly finds clothes that fit her, he fishes around whether her breasts are natural or not, and, later, he points out an album cover where she had a “weight problem.” You wouldn’t think, based on her treatment on the show, that she was the accomplished songwriter who penned “I Will Always Love You” (the all-time best-selling music single by a woman) and one of the most honored country performers of all time.

Cardi B and Dolly Parton are, of course, very different. Parton is white (and has historically invested in some racially problematic ideas) and Cardi is brown, and they were born in completely different eras and areas. Though Parton jokes about her physical assets, she rarely sings about them (though she sometimes references her blonde hair). Meanwhile, Cardi’s body is very much in her music. But when Kathie Lee tells Parton, “You’ve made people believe that a person can just be themselves in spite of all the pressure to change and sort of fit in,” it feels like something the Bronx-bred rapper has also achieved.

Parton has always been proud of her roots. In a 2014 interview with Southern Living, Parton maintained that she doesn’t consider “hillbilly” an insult: “People always say ‘Aren’t you insulted when people call you white trash?’ I say, ‘Well, it depends on who’s calling me white trash and how they mean it.’ But we really were to some degree. Because when you’re that poor and you’re not educated, you fall in those categories. But I’m proud of my hillbilly, white trash background. To me that keeps you humble; that keeps you good. And it doesn’t matter how hard you try to outrun it — if that’s who you are, that’s who you are. It’ll show up once in a while.”

Similarly, Cardi B has always repped the place and the community she came from. In 2017, she told Vice, “I make music for girls from the hood. Even if you’re not from the hood, I want to make a girl from the Valley from California to feel like she want to be a girl from the Bronx. I want a rich-ass girl to want to be a girl who grew up poor like me. Who grew up fighting girls.”

Both artists embrace their cosmetic procedures, pushing back against the idea that these are things they should be ashamed of. “I really think if there’s something that you need to do, want to do, can afford to do, and got the nerve to do, I think you should do it if it’s gonna make you feel better about yourself,” Parton told Nightline in 2012. In the opening track of Invasion of Privacy, “Get Up 10,” Cardi asserts she’s a “real bitch, only thing fake is the boobs,” but she’s proud of her breasts, too; in the chorus of “Money Bag,” they come up again (“I said, ‘Bae, it’s a snack,’ he said, ‘It’s a entrée / With those pretty-ass twins you look like Beyoncé.’”) Meanwhile, she encourages other women to embrace (and work) their bodies. In “Bickenhead,” she twists rapper Project Pat’s demeaning classic into a strip club anthem, suggesting various places for ladies to pop their pussies (on a stove; at work; at church, naturally) as part of their hustle.

Cardi’s use of humor is meant to entertain, but can be genuinely empowering and strategic. Like Parton, who pokes fun at herself (“It takes a lot of money to look this cheap” is a trademark line), Cardi uses Invasion of Privacy to point out the defining characteristics and traits used against her — her history as a stripper, her (then crooked, now straight) teeth, her past political incorrectness — before listeners can. It’s a method of disarmament, and it works. Cardi, ever the fighter, beats you to the punch.

What Dolly’s pride did for the hillbilly, for so-called white trash, Cardi B is doing for ratchet girls in the hood, for a certain type of black or brown woman who’s often imitated or ridiculed, for unashamed and self-proclaimed hoes. It’s a humanization — a celebration — that’s overdue and necessary, with the arguably patronizing gaze being placed on her by media as proof. Both artists’ success disproves the stereotypes that plague them. And given Parton’s immense mainstream success, there’s hope that Cardi’s influence can be as far-reaching and just as seismic. ●

[timuntimes18-blog]

Interview with Memduh Karakullukçu

by Eren Torunlar

(I: Interviewer / K: M. Karakullukçu)

I: Could you please briefly introduce yourself before we start the interview?

K: Well, at present, I serve as the Vice Chairman and President of the Global Relations Forum; which is a membership association focusing on international and political affairs. Going back, I have done other things. I am actually, by formation, an engineer and a lawyer, who somehow found his way to international relations; which proves that international relations is a truly  multi-faceted concept with a complex set of issues, where people of lost spirits -like myself- can find room for themselves.

I: Unfortunately, we had to conduct this interview before the conference has yet begun sessions. Even though you have not had the chance to experience TIMUN, could you tell me what you think about the initiative?

K: I haven’t participated in the conference, as you said, but I did my homework. I read about a third of your reports last night, and I was impressed. Thoroughly impressed. Because I deal with these issues on a daily basis, I travel all around the world and come together with some leading experts. I continuously deal with this agenda, and knowing how intricate the details can be, I was truly impressed when I read through those reports. Some of the students particularly, I think they know the details, yet they keep their distance. They refer to the fundamental insights. So, I was pleasantly surprised. Really, I am proud of all of you. I think you all have done a great job. If I could, I would stay with you the whole time, but they probably would not allow me.

I: As you have been informed, the theme of this year’s TIMUN conference is ‘Building Bridges.’ What are your thoughts about the theme at first sight?

K: Basically, I came of age in the 80’s and 90’s and that was an era when building bridges, globalization, and international cooperation was the hype. Now, for the last 5 or 6 years, the mood has changed. The political climate globally, is not really about building bridges. So, in that sense, I think it is very timely for your generation to say, “we still want this, we still believe in this.” The problem is, I think you have to be more creative. I think we picked the low-hanging fruit, and now, you have to design more intricate bridges that will connect societies at large so that the broader publics will own the bridges. Because until now, what we have done –unfortunately- is to form of cooperation between mostly the elite population, and many people left out. We need to build bridges among the people. That will require a lot of creativity.

I: A majority of people are in favour of ‘Building Bridges’, in other words, bringing people together to work for a collective cause to solve the problems of the global world. It sounds like an easy strategy; however, the applications of this notion have apparent limitations, as the idea itself has faced as much disapproval as approval from communities across the globe. What do you think about ‘building bridges’ as a global objective in a contemporary context?

K: I think it won’t be easy, but let me also put things in perspective. The general sentiment is that things are not going well recently. But as I said, I travel a lot; and when you go to a place like India, they do want to build bridges. I just came from Argentina, they have finished a fifteen-year period of a closed society, and their new leader is fighting for transparency. He wants to build bridges. You look at Canada, Mr Trudeau, he is all about building bridges. So, things are not really black and white. There are countries where people are politically engaged with building bridges, and beyond that, I think building bridges is almost inherent to the global society. It is almost impossible to resist it. We may delay it, the shape of bridges may evolve, but the underlying force and logic of bridges is just inevitable. I have a positive outlook on this. I just think it requires work and creativity, which is all for the better. So, you have some work to do.

I: With far-right nationalism on the rise across Europe and North America, societies across the world seem to be moving away from globalization. What are your thoughts on a world of nations versus a world of collaboration?

K: Collaboration of nations is also a type of cooperation. Nations like China, Russia and the US may come together and agree on a disarmament treaty, for example. Instead of that paradigm, we have wanted more liberal examples of collaboration for the last 20-30 years. The problem with that is, the trust is now turning towards intergovernmental collaboration. The relationship between Russia and China is a form of intergovernmental collaboration. The question is, can those countries with a liberal world view come up with a competing paradigm that will not suffer from this blame of elite collaboration? Because, although there is mass cooperation between societies, the reality is this alleged collaboration only exists between the elites. So, our ultimate goal is to ensure mass cooperation between countries. We should ask ourselves, since the collaboration of elites has not been a success, are we going to prefer intergovernmental collaboration like Russia and China, or are we going to move forward and implement a broad collaboration between the peoples of all countries?  

I: Do you think globalization has its limits?

K: It does. There is a trivial solution to globalization. If we want to live peacefully and prosper, we can make ourselves uniform across the world, so we could be the same person with the same interests, same ambitions etc. Uniform, homogenous people can easily get along, so that will be fine. However, we are a diverse and heterogeneous global society, so the optimal outcome of the globalization project –in my mind- would be a compatible heterogeneous society that can easily work together. The limit is, eventually, to avoid that homogenous example of a global society, while trying to achieve the heterogeneous one. I always associate the situation in the Galapagos Islands to this notion. If someone built a bridge to the islands, we would lose all the biological diversity there because interaction between this community and the rest of the world would presumably result in the destruction of the fascinating diversity on the islands. So, bridges and globalization, they both have limits. If you start losing diversity, then you have reached the limit.

I: You have lived in a number of different states during your academic and professional careers. Similarly, TIMUN and MUN itself are initiatives that values the global movement of students. How would you evaluate the development of the globalization project in terms of the movement of students and workers?

K: Unfortunately, politics is interfering with that as well. Now that we are following what is happening in the US, I understand that it is becoming difficult for students from certain countries to come to the US for education purposes. Some of my friends who are academia in the US are complaining about this. We are throwing political stones into the wheel of educational integration. It is a cost that we will all pay. My feeling is that, unlike the era when I went to school, the environment is not that friendly and welcoming. But still, I believe in the underlying logic of globalization, movement of people and bridges. This is an ephemeral problem of today’s society. It will pass.

I: As a lawyer and an economist, yourself, could you provide a legal and an economical perspective for ‘building bridges.’ How can we merge different worlds into one using the arbitrary concepts of law and economy, which we created to serve and justify the idea of civilization thousands of years ago?

K: I could give a whole talk on that. The way I look at the law is not necessarily about bridges, but it is about when people cannot build bridges. People need a framework, in which they can coexist peacefully, even when they do not agree with each other. For me, the law is that dimension of civilization. When we think about globalization, we think collaboration is the ultimate panacea to all our problems. It is just one tool in the toolbox, and one of them is the law. Law is, in a nutshell, coexistence when we cannot build bridges. Economics, on the other hand, is homogenizing our incentives, interests and motives. As we created this globalized world, we have managed to motivate billions of people by a better life, by prosperity, by getting a new car or a new TV. Again, this homogenization is the risk I see. So, economics has already done it. In some sense, it has made living together relatively easier, but in the expense of homogenizing the global society. If you leave everyone’s incentives as is, it provides us with the tools for generating and maintaining incentives and institutions. Economics is eventually how we design incentives to make people work together, somehow aligning the interests of different people. So that even when we do not agree, we can still collaborate.

I: What do you think the role of the youth is in the globalization project?

K: I belong to a generation that picked the low-hanging fruit. The bridges you will be building will not be the bridges that we built. They will not be as easy to build. What we have built is the standard set. I think the youth has the burden to be creative, imaginative and unconventional. You cannot imitate the past generation, and you should also have diversity among one another; and I genuinely think that you will do it.

I: On a less serious note, what were you like in high school?

K: I was not the MUN type. Definitely not. I was a very focused math and science student. I only came to appreciate words and verbal thinking during my late twenties. But still, I believe I had an innate curiosity back then, and hopefully I still do. Even if you start with only numbers, you see, curiosity takes you to words.