#he also had this rather disturbing infatuation with one of our teachers. like he even engraved a heart-shaped keychain with her name on it

[deus-ex-mona]

ok but real talk

w h o is this guy? what is his name? what does he d o? is he the token skrunkly of gen 3?

either way he looks like weaksauce. i bet i could take him in a fight e a s y p e a s y

[sjsmith56]

Snowfall, Part 3 - Profile

Summary: Bucky learns more about what Leia is facing, including that the FBI has been brought in. Agreeing to be her bodyguard he moves into her apartment.

Length: 5.6 K

Characters: Bucky, Leia, Pepper, Happy, FBI agent (named).

Warnings: Minors DNI - contains sexual content which may be unsuitable for those under the age of 18, revelation of past trauma, acknowledgement of continuing PTSD issues, disturbing referral to possible identity of stalker.

Author notes: This chapter is peeling back the layers of defence both Leia and Bucky have, revealing past traumas and PTSD issues.

<<Part 2

The following morning saw them sleep in, understandable considering what they did most of the night. Bucky wakened first, watching Leia sleep for a while, until he got up and showered, trimmed his beard, then dressed. Heading to her kitchen, he started up the coffee, then searched her fridge and cupboards for ingredients to make breakfast. Hearing sounds in the bedroom, he went to the door and knocked on it, receiving an invitation to enter. Leia was under the rumpled duvet, awake but in no hurry to get up.

"I wondered where you were," she murmured, as he sat next to her and leaned over to kiss her.

"Making some breakfast," he replied. "I need calories after last night."

"Me too," she purred, stretching. "I've never done that before." He looked at her questioningly. "Be with a man I barely know, yet I feel like I know you so well."

"I feel the same," he smiled. "Even though it's only been a few days, I can't stop thinking about you. My therapist would chew me out for letting an infatuation take over my decision making. That's probably how she would describe it."

"You see a therapist?" There was no judgement in her voice; rather a sense of wanting to understand him more.

He nodded. "For PTSD. I had a different one when I was first pardoned, and we did not mesh well. The one I have now is much more understanding, but I think jumping into a relationship would test that."

"I saw one when I was a kid then again after I split up with my husband," explained Leia. "It was a nasty split that really drew a dividing line in town. There were those who said I should forgive and forget, while others wanted him prosecuted." Bucky waited for more explanation. "He was also a teacher and got involved with a student, who was almost 18. They did charge him with sexual interference with a minor but the moment our divorce was finalized he married her. She wouldn't testify against him, and they stayed the charges. I took back my maiden name to distance myself from him completely."

She drew the bedclothes tighter around her, curling up on her side a little; obviously still affected by the betrayal but not wanting to open up about it, at least not yet. Bucky climbed over her and laid behind her, draping his arm over her mid-section, as he kissed her shoulder. They laid like that for a while, not talking, just existing in the quiet of the moment. She suddenly rolled over, throwing her arm around his shoulder, and burying her face in his neck.

"You smell so good," she murmured. "It's familiar to me and I don't know why."

"I know what you mean. There is a multiverse where our counterparts are supposed to exist." He searched her face. "Perhaps we're together in another universe and the connection is so strong that we feel it here. It's as if we're ...."

"Don't say soulmates," she interrupted. "Say, kindred souls, or heart's desire, instead. Soulmate is so ... Twilight."

He laughed, kissing her affectionately. "Okay, I can do that." He could wake up next to her every morning. "How do you like your eggs?"

"Soft boiled with soldiers," she answered, which made him smile, "but don't go to too much trouble. I'll take whatever you give me."

"Take your time getting ready." He kissed her and slid out the other side of the bed. "By the way, you snore. It's very cute."

She grabbed the loose pillow and threw it at him, laughing. Dodging it, he picked it up and tossed it onto the end of the bed, leaving her to get ready. By the time she came out dressed for the day, he had two soft boiled eggs ready for her, along with toast cut into strips, coffee and a fruit salad made of bananas, strawberries, and blueberries. For himself he had bacon, eggs, and toast. He poured coffee for each of them, then sat down next to her. Putting his arm around her, he kissed her on the side of the head then returned to his meal, both attacking the food readily.

"Thank you," she murmured, after her first bite. "This is wonderful."

He acknowledged it as they ate some more, then he sipped his coffee, not wanting to speak with his mouth full.

"I'll have to pick up more of my clothing," he said, "as well as my cat."

Her face lit up. "You have a cat? What's its name?"

"Alpine," he answered. "She's about a year old, white with blue eyes, and likely deaf. I say likely because it seems like sometimes she can hear me but chooses not to listen." He drank more of his coffee. "Do you think your driver will take us over and bring us back? I don't want to walk around with luggage and the cat supplies. I, uh, also have to go to my storage locker and pick up a weapon or two."

She stopped eating, putting her utensils down on the table. It became very quiet between them as only the sound of her breathing could be heard. The stress in her voice when she did speak was noticeable.

"Is that necessary?"

"I would rather have them than not," he answered, puzzled by her response. "I'm licensed for concealed carry. It would probably be a good idea to teach you to fire a weapon. We can go to a firing range for that."

"No."

"Sweetheart ...."

"No. I won't fire a gun."

"Leia ...."

She stood up and walked away from him, retreating into the living room area, and looking out the window with her arms crossed as if she was hugging herself. By the time Bucky got there, he realized she was crying, and he pulled his handkerchief out for her to use. She looked at it for a moment, then took it and wiped her eyes.

"My little brother was only five years old," she said. "He was so sweet but a pest, loved playing tricks on his big sister." She wavered and Bucky put his hand out to her, but she pushed it away. "My dad had a handgun, and he would let Mikey watch him practice shooting targets. He was supposed to keep it in a locked safe but that day he put it in the nightstand drawer because he needed to get cigarettes. Mom was working. I was writing a story in the kitchen when he left and had just finished when I heard the gun go off."

She sank to the floor, weeping. This time she didn't push Bucky away as he sat with his legs on either side of her, wrapping his arms around her.

"You don't have to say anything," he murmured, realizing why she was upset about Edward mentioning her father. "I understand."

"I have to," she whispered. "I've only ever told my therapist since it happened." She took a shaky breath. "The bullet went into his abdomen. I called 911 right away and they were there within minutes, along with the police, because it was a shooting. I told them it was Dad's gun and that it should have been in the gun safe. Told them how he had stepped out for cigarettes and must have left it in the nightstand where Mikey found it. They sent a unit to find him and located his truck at his girlfriend's house. My dad was cheating on my mom. They asked him about his handgun, where he stored it. He admitted being in a hurry to get out of the house and leaving it in the nightstand. That's when they told him about Mikey. They arrested him and wouldn't let him come to the hospital. My brother died that night and so did any love I ever had for my dad. I was only 12. Mom divorced Dad and we moved to another small town to live with my grandparents. Mikey was cremated and Mom kept the ashes for a long time until I scattered his and her ashes together after she died. I kept writing as part of my therapy when I was a teenager to get over Mikey dying and my dad being a cheating bastard." She wiped her nose. "The next town was a nice place to grow up and I was happy there. Didn't miss my dad at all. He didn't even try to contact us. I met Jake in college, married him and he came back with me, then he cheated on me, just like my dad cheated on my mom. At least we didn't have any kids to find a handgun that was lying around."

"Hey, it's alright," said Bucky, still holding her close. "What happened to you is something that will always be with you. I'm glad you trusted me enough to share that with me." They sat quietly for a time. "I won't force you to use a gun, but I still need to have one. For me, they're a tool. I don't normally carry one or keep one in the apartment because I take gun safety seriously. But, to keep you safe, I'll need one and when I'm not wearing it, I will keep it in a locked gun safe. The other weapon that I use is a knife, kept in an ankle holster that holds two extra magazines for my gun." She stayed very still as he told her. "I'm telling you this upfront because I don't want there to be any secrets between us. I know how to use many weapons, but I don't make a habit of carrying any of them unless I'm on a job. To protect you, I have to have something ready to use. I'm not asking for permission, but I want you to understand why I need them."

She breathed heavily for a time, then slumped a little before turning towards him and leaning into his body. Gently, she touched his face with her fingertips, tracing his lips as he kissed them. Lowering his face closer to hers, he hovered over her lips, then barely touched them with his, feeling the whisper of her breath on his face. With a delicate touch, he kissed her, his lips open but his tongue still in his own mouth, waiting for permission to kiss her more intimately. When she pressed her tongue onto his, Bucky accepted it, allowing her the control. As she shifted to straddle his lap, he leaned back against the wall, then placed his hands at the hem of her top, before sliding them up underneath and splaying his hands around her midsection. Just as he was about to unhook her bra, his phone rang, making him hesitate. It stopped ringing and he continued running his hands up her back. The phone rang again, and she exhaled then shook her head, getting off his lap. Retrieving his phone from the kitchen table she handed it to him and went to the bedroom. He looked at the two missed calls, seeing they were from the same number.

"Barnes here," he said, after he redialed. "You were trying to phone me?"

"Burnham," said the man. "Can you two be ready to be picked up in 20 minutes?"

"Yeah, what's going on?"

"Another letter," he said. "We need Ms. Dunn to explain some of the references. We also need to meet about whether you're joining the team, so you can be read in on what we have."

"I'm in," replied Bucky. "We'll be downstairs waiting. Are you picking us up?"

"Yeah, it will be me. See you soon."

Pocketing his phone he went to the bedroom, expecting to see Leia lying down, but she was making the bed.

"They're picking us up in 20 minutes," he announced. "Another letter has arrived, and they also want to read me in on what they've learned so far." She didn't say anything. "Leia."

"I heard you," she answered a little coldly, putting the finishing touches on the bed.

She approached to go past him, but he put his hand out, taking her hand to stop her.

"Are we good?"

Looking up at him, she smiled wanly.

"You're asking after what we were doing on the floor?" A raised eyebrow was his response, and her face softened. "We're good. I'm sorry I got angry about the gun. Even though it's been almost 20 years since it happened, I still remember the smell of gunpowder in the room, mixed with the smell of his blood. I have PTSD too, but I understand you need to be ready for anything. I'll deal with it."

She hugged him quickly, then moved past him to clean up the breakfast dishes, accepting his help with them. They got down to the lobby seconds before Burnham arrived. On the ride to Manhattan, he watched the couple, noticing a change in their dynamic. Although there was still open affection between them, evident by how they held hands, he detected some tension. Hopefully, it wouldn't affect the assignment.

Their destination, an office in a Midtown building, was accessed by some high-level security that Bucky recognized as Stark technology. Leia was set up as a guest. His access was set up via several different methods, including a voice print, iris scan and retinal scan, redundant in the event security was ever breached.

Welcome Manchurian Candidate read the display on the security panel after the last part of Bucky's inputs, bringing a grunt out of him and a questioning look at Burnham. He shrugged.

"Apparently, Tony Stark had a profile already created for you to join the Avengers after the battle with Thanos. He assigned all code names; that was yours. It's still in the system." The door slid open. "We can change it if you want."

"No, it's fine. I watched the movie he got it from, and it was an apt description of what I once was."

Entering what was definitely a secure area they followed Burnham to a conference room with a display screen on one wall, where Pepper Stark, Happy Hogan, and two other men were waiting. They were introduced to Bucky as John DaSilva and Dan Schultz, the rest of Burnham's team.

"Well, I guess you need an explanation," said Pepper, speaking first. "One of the reasons we suggested Leia move to New York is that she began receiving disturbing letters from a stalker. They knew where she lived and worked and knew her real name as well as other details that a stranger wouldn't have known. We were hoping that relocating here under her pen name would make it harder for them to find her. We don't think Edward is the guy though. He doesn't fit most of the profile."

"You profiled her stalker? That's pretty serious, isn't it?" He realized something and looked at Burnham. "You're not private security."

"No, we're all active FBI agents but that doesn't leave this room." The older man looked at Leia. "Sorry, Ms. Dunn, but it was felt it would be better if we were behaving as private security and not agents on duty. Your relationship with Sergeant Barnes opened up some possibilities for this assignment which is why I agreed about seconding him to be part of the detail. With him being easily recognized, the stalker would likely think twice about making a move."

"I told you last night I'm in a relationship with her. That should disqualify me as a bodyguard."

"Normally, yes." Pepper looked at him earnestly. "But you are a professional, and there is already a level of trust between you that will work to your benefit. We'll arrange for a new apartment in a new neighbourhood for you two to share. What goes on inside of that apartment is your business, but we want to keep Leia safe. She doesn't deserve to be harassed the way she has been. Which brings us back to Edward Ruskin and the latest letter. Agent Burnham."

The agent placed his attention on Bucky. "You spotted Ruskin last night. He shouldn't have even made it in there. Even though he's basically harmless, he got close to her too easily and so could the stalker without us even knowing who he is."

"How did he get in?" asked Bucky. "How do you know for sure that he's not the stalker?"

"He follows Ms. Dunn's official social media that is curated by the publisher. They posted news of the event several weeks ago inviting retailers to come in and meet the newest and hottest authors to boost Christmas sales. He created a fake profile, but it got rejected as they at least did their due diligence there, but he showed up anyway and bribed a server to let him in through the wait staff entry. We compared his writing to the writing in the letters. The handwriting and his style of writing don't match. In the meantime, I think given the level of trust Ms. Dunn has with you, that you and she stay very close together. As Mrs. Stark just said, a new apartment can be arranged for you, with two bedrooms. It will be in a secure building. I will continue to be your driver if you need to go anywhere. You can use a food delivery service that we've vetted to get groceries or takeout."

"I already told you I don't want to be locked up like a bird in a cage," said Leia. "I'm a writer and I need the freedom to go out and observe life. Can't do that if I'm confined to that apartment on the tenth floor. Will this new one be even higher up, taking me even further away from life? Will you have people spying on me from other buildings?"

Bucky put his hand on hers, calming her. "We don't need to move. I know our neighbourhood well and now that I know more about Leia's security needs, I'm more than capable of keeping track of anyone who doesn't belong around her. If you want to be background surveillance, that's fine, but she should continue to live a normal life, going out, buying groceries, having coffee at the coffee shop, etc. To do otherwise isolates her and that can also put her in danger as the stalker might escalate to extreme measures to get to her. If he's really set on it, he'll still find a way to infiltrate where she is." He watched as the others considered his observations. "I would like some help in moving some clothes and my cat into Leia's apartment. Can't exactly walk through the streets of Brooklyn with luggage and a cat carrier without drawing attention."

"Yeah, I'll take you," said the FBI agent. "What about weapons?"

"I have my own, but I need to go to a storage locker for them. I have a licence for concealed carry."

"Well, that saves us having to apply for that on your behalf," remarked Burnham. "I'll provide you with a copy of the letters that have been received so far. We have another that was delivered yesterday but not sorted until last night. I'm not going to show the whole letter, Ms. Dunn, as there are some unsettling scenarios in it but there are two references which concern us, as it indicates a level of familiarity that confirms this person knows you, maybe not personally but they know far too much about you for it to be a coincidence." He opened an iPad and brought up a document, then transferred it to the display screen. Five sentences, handwritten and isolated from two separate sections appeared.

Did you really mourn Mikey? Or was he just another brother you didn't really love and were so eager to abandon?

20 years is a long time to pretend he meant something. He didn't even rate a story in your precious book. None of us did.

Leia gasped, placing her hand over her mouth as she looked at Bucky. He placed his arm around her then glanced at Burnham, wondering about coincidences.

"He's referring to my younger brother." Her voice faltered. "He died almost 20 years ago, after playing with my father's handgun. I wrote about him in therapy for my PTSD, as I'm the one who was home when he was shot. My dad had run out for cigarettes but was really with his mistress."

"That has to be related to the appearance of the letters," said Burnham. "Twenty-year anniversary of your brother's death. What's the exact date?"

"January 2, 2005. One month from now is the anniversary." She shook her head. "Why would he say another pesky brother? I only had one brother, Mikey. He was a pest, always playing tricks on me but I loved him. We always laughed." Her face broke. "Did my dad have a child with his girlfriend?"

"We'll check that out. The shooting and the death of your brother was investigated by police, wasn't it?" She nodded. "We'll get the official file on that."

"The shooting didn't happen in the town she was living in most recently," added Bucky. "You've been looking for someone who once lived or currently lives there. She moved there with her mother after Mikey's death and the divorce from her father. Ruskin mentioned her father as well, so how did he know?"

Burnham's grim face said it all; they were starting back at square one.

"We have to redo the profile," he announced. "Ms. Dunn, we'll need your help verifying the information on that file." He turned to Happy. "Mr. Hogan, would you be able to drive Sergeant Barnes to his apartment to pick up what he needs? We will keep Ms. Dunn here until he's settled at the other apartment. We'll bring her back then." He spread his hands apart, for emphasis. "We'll figure this out."

With the meeting over, the three agents went to acquire a digital copy of the file and prepare to interview Leia about her recollections of her younger brother's death. Before she went with them Bucky held her, then kissed her on top of her head. Pepper waited while Happy went to get his vehicle.

"Leia, I'll stay here with you, but I just want a word with Bucky before he goes," said Pepper. After Leia left, she turned to Bucky. "Is everything alright between you two?"

"It's a little tense as she's uncomfortable around firearms," he said. "Understandably. What did you need to see me about?"

She sighed. "I don't like intruding on people's private lives but what's happened to you?"

"I don't know what you mean." He looked away.

"Yes, you do. You won't even make eye contact with me. Tony would try to baffle me with his bullshit when I asked him uncomfortable questions whereas you detach yourself by looking away or ignoring questions." He huffed a little but impassively looked at her, waiting to be scolded. "Heaven help me from big strong men with PTSD that don't like appearing weak. Bucky, you're a millionaire but you live in a tiny one-bedroom flat. You own one suit, numerous jeans, and T-shirts, barely any furniture, and you're floundering. You rarely stay in contact with Sam and the rest of us seem to be relegated to being ignored. What happened after the Flag Smashers? We all thought you had purpose after that."

He should have been angry at Pepper knowing private details of his life, but she was right; having described him so succinctly. Running his hand through his hair, then squeezing the back of his neck to relieve the tension he felt, he breathed out.

"I thought I could build a new life in Delacroix, but it felt like I was being too dependent on Sam and his family to make me feel good. I came back to Brooklyn to give my notice to the landlord, but I just couldn't do it. It didn't feel right; it felt like running away, so I stayed. Sam's been busy lobbying and recruiting new Avengers. I'm still not comfortable dealing with people." She looked at him in disbelief. "Maybe I have floundered. I admit to feeling alone and lonely, but I wanted to deal with it myself and prove that I could manage." He looked to the door where Leia had left. "Then I met her, and, in just a few days, I feel like I used to, before the war." He shook his head. "She told me about her brother this morning after I mentioned teaching her to fire a gun. We dealt with it. She's not happy about me carrying one but she knows that I need it to protect her."

"So, you're still okay with taking the job, being with her 24/7 until the FBI find out who is stalking her."

"I'll do it because I care about her," he said. "I can compartmentalize the emotional relationship from the professional one. You don't have to pay me. I don't want the money. Donate it to a veteran's charity if you're required by law to compensate me. But don't keep me in the dark about anything that happens."

"Alright." She looked sharply at him. "Are you still in therapy? From what I heard that Dr. Raynor was a real piece of work but she's who the army wanted. I think they harboured a few fantasies about getting you back into a special forces' unit and she was there to prepare you to be a soldier again."

"Instead of the Avengers, like Tony planned?" A flicker of hurt passed across her face. "Sorry. I only found out when Burnham set me up to get inside here and the computer welcomed me as the Manchurian Candidate. It's what he called me before the shit hit the fan in Siberia. It was a pretty accurate description."

She came closer, sitting on the edge of the conference table.

"He struggled after Siberia. He had already been proven wrong when he realized Zemo set you up, then when he found out the Winter Soldier killed his parents it was like everything he believed in was laid to waste. He did a deep dive into the files, including quite a few film and video clips of your treatment. I don't know if he would have ever forgiven you on an emotional level, but intellectually he understood that the real enemy was HYDRA and everyone who kept you in bondage to them. He wanted you to have purpose, and a means to be of service to humanity by offering you a place with the Avengers, working alongside Steve." She smiled sadly. "Then he died, Steve went back to the 1940s and I mourned. I did what I was capable of at the time, which was providing those files for your defence and paying for your lawyer. I could have done more to make you aware that I would support you and I'm sorry I didn't. You must have felt so alone at times... still do, I think."

Breathing out, Bucky looked at the floor, then at her.

"What is tolerance? It is the consequence of humanity. We are all formed of frailty and error; let us pardon reciprocally each other's folly - that is the first law of nature." She seemed uncertain with his words. "Voltaire said that. Much of my isolation was self-imposed as I still really haven't pardoned myself. But that's my cross to bear and I'm still working on it. I do see a therapist, but I also read a lot of philosophy, and I try to practice self love. I'll get there, someday." He stood up and went to the door, then looked back at her. "How's that for a big strong man with PTSD? Vulnerability is hard for any man. It's not how we were raised, especially in my time. I'm still working on that as well."

With a slight smile, he was gone and Pepper Stark realized she had just been called out for thinking of Bucky and even Tony as stereotypical males. Bucky Barnes was an enigma. Tall, dark, and handsome, but also appearing stoic and brooding, he was smarter and deeper than he appeared. A man like that could do great things, things that mattered. It was more than serendipitous that he and Leia were involved in a relationship. If she were a more romantic type, Pepper would have called it fate that the two found each other.

⏳ ⌛️

It was getting dark outside, and it started to snow again.  Alpine watched the large snowflakes falling lazily past the 10th floor window of Leia's apartment, occasionally batting at one that came too close to the window.  Bucky, reading the FBI file on Leia, while he waited for her to return, looked up from time to time when he heard Alpine's paws hit the window.  This guy, and Bucky was sure it was a guy, was obsessed with her. His initial letters were a little strange, explaining how he learned about a beautiful author from a friend. Imagine his surprise when he saw Leia at the farmer’s market from a distance and recognized her as his childhood friend Mikey’s older sister. The sharp turn in the tone of the letters came as he expressed his disappointment that she didn’t recognize him whenever their eyes met. That’s when he began outlining his plan to bring her back to her roots, and show her that he was the right man for her. His words were disturbing, expressing a desire to subject her to his will, while taking care of her better than her ex-husband did. The most recent letter was obscene and Bucky was glad they didn’t show her those parts. So far, it seemed the stalker didn’t know where in the New York area she lived but he was looking. A message came through on Bucky’s cell phone and he put the file away in his bag, then unlocked the door to the apartment and walked to the elevator.  It opened to Leia and Agent Burnham, who casually saluted Bucky and pushed the down button, leaving her with him. 

"Sorry, we're so late," she said, as she stood in front of him in the hallway. "It took a while to go through the official file of my brother's death and the birth records with my father listed as the biological dad." She looked up at Bucky, her eyes haunted. "The stalker might be my half-sibling.” That was disturbing if the stalker knew that and harboured sexual fantasies about her. “My dad was an absolute bastard. He fathered at least three more children with three different women, other than my mother. I don't even know if she knew, and I can't ask her because she died of cancer two years ago."

Putting his arm around her shoulders, Bucky walked her back to the apartment. She brightened up when she saw Alpine, kneeling down and putting her hand out to the finicky feline, who decided to play nice and approached readily, rubbing against Leia's hand. After helping her off with her coat and giving her a quick shoulder massage while she sat at the table, Bucky pulled a casserole from the oven and a salad from the fridge. His actions almost brought Leia to the edge of tears, but she swallowed and smiled appreciatively at him instead, allowing herself to enjoy the meal. Later, when everything had been put away and cleaned up, he turned off most of the lights, put some music on, and sat with Leia on his lap and Alpine on hers. While the snow fell outside, they were quiet, not talking, just being in the moment; something they both needed after the day that started well, then took a left turn into uncharted territory.

Later, in the stillness of the bedroom, they resumed what was interrupted earlier in the day. They were hesitant at first; a tentative kiss was followed by Leia perched on his lap while the languid touch of a cool hand reached up under her T-shirt. Bucky's hands traced the contours of her breasts after she bared herself to him, before moving to her back, bringing her closer to him. Hungrily, he mouthed her breasts, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nipples while she pressed her body against his growing erection. When she seated herself fully on him, gasping at the intensity of it all, he soothed her, reminding her to breathe through it, remaining still for her to get used to his size. Watching her ride him, was like worshiping an idol at an altar. She was so beautiful, with her face raised to the heavens, and the way her hands fluttered over her own body then to his, grasping and kneading as the waves of pleasure rippled through her and into him and back again.

"We must be lovers in another universe," he thought at one point. "How are we doing this so instinctively?"

They just knew the parts of each other's body that was most sensitive and responsive, without words or gestures. It happened organically, as if they had been together for years instead of days. The moment of coming was transcendent, reinforcing his belief that despite everything, this convergence of the two of them was right and meant to be. He had his small flat, while she had this apartment, but home was them, inhabiting the same small space, breathing the same air, in a communion of mind, body and soul. It felt ... right.

Part 4>>

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[boglog]

Soooo I'm gna get mauled here but tumblr's unquestioning praise of Killing Eve as a progressive, prestige show about womanhood and sexuality is... looking like a problem to me.

This is not to shame people who watch the show or even to guilt people out of enjoying it, especially seeing as I've done both, (unabashedly admiring Phoebe Waller Bridge's distinctly quirky humour and Fiona Shaw's deliveries). This is to say, though, that the Killing Eve franchise is something to think more critically about before we give it more praise, more money. We can be critical of media we like, not limit activism to media criticism and not feel that media criticism in some way robs us of something. In my opinion.

[tw for discussions on sex, rape, pedophilia, violence, death, q slur]

[[more]] <---more --!>

Firstly the generation-wide age gap: Eve's original portrayal in the book is 24, exactly two years Villanelle's senior so the only logical excuse for it be added in the adaptation was bc the crew were desperate for big name actors. And while I love Sandra Oh, it was not worth it to create bizarre sexual tension between a forty year old and a twenty year old. This isn't even the first time Jodie Comer was the on-screen love interest to a middle aged person (see also Dr Foster), which is doubly messed up. Ideally replace Oh with an actor Comer's peer or replace Comer w someone Oh's age. It's not that hard.

Second, the age gap is exasperated by Villanelle's "mental age" which is far below twenty. Honestly the fact that both these problems were added into the adaptation by female actor/writer Phoebe Waller-Bridge makes me wna scream. Book!Villanelle was appropriately mature enough—emotionally, psychologically, intellectually—to warrant her high-ranking status as an assassin. Her behaviour, while still devoid of empathy, manages to be a believable portrayal of an upper-class 20 yr o behaving like a thirty year-old. Phoebe Waller-Bridge (and co)'s reinterpretation has Villanelle being a hyperfeminine, materialist, petty teenager that slowly spirals into impulsive outbursts and a scene where she's crawling around a suburb in a onesie. How do we reconcile Villanelle's lust and her love of violence with this childish persona? How is Eve's attraction to her justified? How do ppl think that's hot? It's comedic shock value flirting with homophobia, pedophilia, and the Born Sexy Yesterday trope. Not to mention the violent little girl trope. Despite all of Luke Jennings' flaws, he at least did not do That and my God is the bar low.

Both book and show heavily overplay Villanelle's sexual promiscuity to the point of being voyeuristic. Villanelle's sociopathy is largely an excuse for her violence, sex life, and lack of empathy to be over-the-top, even comedic, especially in the show adaptation. Villanelle's only true human connection is her infatuation with her language teacher, Anna. Which, rather than explore the show's pedophilic undertones, only serves to justify it via backstory.

The show does handle this way worse though: through Anna's dialogue, we're assured that the attraction was mutual ("She seduced me.") and that they've had sex. Which at the time would be when Oxana (Oksana) was in her late teens as she was still a high school student under Anna's tutelage. In the show, Villanelle murders Anna's husband partially out of revenge and possibly bc she took Anna's joke too literally. Book!Villanelle meanwhile castrates Anna's rapist. The former attempts to draw parallels between Eve and Anna, Nico and Anna's husband, treating the story like a melodramatic Shakespearean love triangle while once more reminding us of Villanelle's immature social skills. Which, again, serves to justify age gap lust. Meanwhile, the book attempts to question Villanelle's warped attempts at human connection via vignettes of violent shock value, it's marginally better than the adaptation but in the overall scheme of things I'm not sure Jennings makes enough commentary on violence against women to warrant this.

Finally sexuality in the franchise is a big question mark. Eve and Villanelle's attraction to each other is explained simply by obsession and lust intermingled with violence. Villanelle and Anna's relationship devolves into much the same in the show. Eve and Nico have a relatively stable yet dispassionate relationship meanwhile Bill is implied to be bisexual with an open marriage, though this is never seen and he's murdered shortly after this confession. A Chinese politician has a hospital fetish and, in the book, a right-wing fascist has a kin/kink for Eva Braun which leads us to a highly disturbing transphobic scene involving an exploding dildo. Notably, Villanelle's on/off frenemy romance with Lara (who is... you know... her age) in the book is cut and replaced Nadia, whom she basically kills as soon as possible.

The relationship between Oxana and Lara is explored more in the book (and it's post-season 1 sequel) though ultimately, Lara dies and Villanelle can't feel remorse let alone love. Both book and show have Villanelle hooking up with various people but the book goes into painstaking detail about her sexual promiscuity being motivated by her desire to manipulate peole. Clearly, Jennings shows that Villanelle's sex life includes all genders yet with little regard for her intimacy and level of attraction for anyone. She is "bisexual" (or "lesbian") only insofar as actual physical sex is concerned. Emotionally, she is attracted to no one. Which let me just say is a capital y Yikes.

And the cherry on top of course is that the show is getting accused of queerbating due to the heavy marketing a nd WLW undertones despite Sandra Oh's denial of any romance btwn her and Jodie Comer's character. 🙄

All of these play heavily into existing homophobic stereotypes. The predatory lesbian. The hypersexual bisexual. The manipulative, hedonistic, childish, lustful qu**rs, who, having foresaken family values to screw anything and everything, are not emotionally mature enough to be first class citizens. From watching the show and reading the book, the writers play with these "dark" themes with little introspection to how these relate historically to LGBT politics, how their use of sociopathy and age gaps has political and sociological significance. There's little real deconstruction or reflection on gender, sexuality, violence etc to be considered satirical and these aspects are largely thrown in for entertainment's sake.

Jennings and Waller-Bridge have both, respectively, made attempts at thematic critiques of wealth and gender. Neither of which in my opinion saw its theme through enough to be satirical. There's something to be said about how PWB converted Jennings' anti-materialist subtext into "empowering" aspects of literally weaponised feminity (i.e. all of Villanelle's weapons are high-end women's products) almost as a critique of cultural dismissal of femininity and it's association with materialism. PWB seemed to want to create a comedic, empoweringly gendered, spy movie but this theme of weaponised femininity nose dives at Villanelle's immaturity not to mention its superficiality. Weaponised femininity directed at whom? The show seems much more fascinated with Villanelle herself than the fact that she's employed by The Twelve, which obscures the importance of who Villanelle is killing, who Villanelle exerts weaponised feminity against and why. Not to mention the concept of the feral, empowered or weaponised woman has always been positively attributed to white women, which to make a long story short is not new or progressive or empowering.

I'm not too puritanical to understand the use of taboo themes in satire. This is not satire. KE's appeal seems to be the sexualisation of its deuteragonists at the expense of nuanced conversations about sex, violence, and gender. PWB was way more fixated on comedy than I think she should have been, and both creators rely most on shock value than anything else in how they construct what they believe be the most entertaining and well-structured narrative. There's little evidence that they regard the responsibility they have in portraying bisexual women in positions of power, in age gap relationships or as violent characters in a political espionage thriller. This is not satire this is a very eclectic comedy with clumsy homophobic caricatures at best.

Lastly, there are essays on why leftist fixation on "representation" is a symptom of our digital hyperreality and at best will never truly address material problems faced by real people. Big ass metas on tumblr is not necessarily activism and as I'm sure you know the revolution will not be televised. But should show runners and co be rewarded for so called groundbreaking dark comedy that in fact seems to support harmful stereotypes? And goddamnit am I tired of people unironically romanticising Villanelle and Eve. Thank you for listening to my TEDtalk.

[talesofealdancynedom]

The aforementioned beach house deck, before the misty beach

Tale 31: If We Lost The Sea Wives (chapter 5 - Rising Tides  5/5 ) part 7. Stories of Magic Forests

no warings

Hara, Woodwick, Dominique, and Dragon Princess Fleogenan, arrived late in the afternoon. They had just taken a long and exhausting train ride to Isfisceard, from The Grand West. So many trains, transfers and ferries; Just to get to this isolated magic island. The family beach house was near the train station, on the road leading into Isfisceard’s village area. The place was quaint as ever, and the local academy was much smaller than Pepperidge’s, where Hara now worked. It made him feel warm, and he couldn’t help but passionately describe his home to Fleog.

Though Saturn was enjoying retirement, his best days were still the ones where he was hugged by his grandson. The beach house had room enough for Fleog and Hara, but Dominique and Woodwick stayed in an inn by the coast. Saturn was pleasantly surprised to see Dominique, his first grad student, looking youthful as ever; And finally requiting Woodwick’s infatuation. She had been sharing an annual bath with Woodwick, as fountain nymphs do, to keep their true loves forever. It simply warmed Saturn heart. Both Hara and Woodwick had found true loves; And Saturn’s heart beated with ease knowing it. One true love, is something both rare and everywhere it seemed. But everything was starting to change when, Hara began sharing his research at dinner.

“The school teaches mages like me now, Grandpa. My prime student is no exception. Pepperidge’s best young seer, saw that Woodwick was a fountain nymph instantly! He’s an avid naiad enthusiast, and historian. The boy suggested I use royal fey, to make the magic forest a conservation and heritage site.” Hara began. “So, when it came to showing the human side of fey, and the value of Pepperidge, the power of empathy was the way to go. I even published your notes on Woodwick! He had fooled the entire magic community, as the best transmutation teacher in the land. Lost his job though; But me and Dominique hope our efforts can get him reinstated by next semester.” He chimed. Dominique was principal of the academy, and looked uneased by the rant. Everyone felt disturbed by hearing that Woodwick being a fey, was leaked.

“Hara. Why would you do that? Those were kept in the library archives for a reason. I trusted you with those! Now Woodwick lost his job and identity, which I worked hard to give him. Domanique got her familiar killed for covering it up; And almost lost her job as well!” Saturn snapped, standing up. “Can you imagine what would have happened if you hadn’t gotten Pepperidge legally protected? I’m proud of your success, but disappointed in your lack of care.” He yelled. It took everyone aback. Saturn was normally calm and content. Everyone held him in high regard, as an elder, father, grandfather, and mentor. The air began the thicken and sink, as Saturn’s rage bubbled up. Hara was in near tears, as he believed that publishing his beloved grandpa’s research, was an inedible good. He couldn’t stand knowing he had disappointed someone so important to him. When Hara imagined coming home, he expected a more merry ruinion.

“But its ok now…” Woodwick said, trying to settle the tension. The atmosphere was scaring him; Fey can be driven by fear, as it is on of the emotions they share with all living things. Woodwick had already accepted the matter, and hoped to comfort everyone with that fact. But Hara looked like he was about to cry, and Fleog could not read the room; She looked around in confusion, while beginning to worry. Electra kept eating, as Jasper just stared at Woodwick, as his face cycled through the stages of grief in under a minute. Dominque, however, looked away and stayed quiet. Saturn then took his seat.

              Fey are magic, know magic omnisciently, and sense it’s flow and presence. They were made of it, and came from the shadow veil which is formed by it. Any source of magic reminded them of home, and their parents the King and Queen of their fey kingdom. Other fey are like siblings or cousins, and royal fey like big brothers and sisters. That is how they perceive family. That is how fey understand magic. Thus, it is also how they tell if humans can use magic, are mages, or even if they are enfeyed with one of their kin. The flow and feel of the magic on a human, or enchanted object, is a dead give away. They can immediately identify another fey in seconds.

Electra, raised human, did not understand what her feyness was sensing; Thus, Electra could tell Woodwick was a fey, but didn’t care. Some trees talked, some said nothing, and some people felt distant, and others homey. It was normal to her. Like Saturn, it all blurred together. She did not react. Woodwick on the other hand, is still a fey capable of spotting the difference. Thus, Saturn wasn’t the only one who knew Electra was a selkie. The whole time. Since they were discussing truth, and fairies have no tact, Woodwick decided to toss his chips into the pile, to back Hara.

“You make a big deal over some old research, that helped a good cause, and insult your grandson. I understand why you covered for me, when people would pay to own me. I would never have the wonderful life I do, if people knew the truth. But why do you lie about your daughter? What terrible thing would happen if everyone knew she was a selkie? Northland men marry and fall in love with fish fey all the time; Jasper is just bonkers for her!” Woodwick prompted. Jasper started chocking on his food, as Hara stared into middle distance. Saturn tensed, while sinking into his seat. Electra patted Jaspers back to help him recover. There are many ways to react to reality.

“Oh. That’s interesting.” Electra said calmly. “Maybe that’s why he didn’t say anything, Woodwick; Because there are no reproductions?” She smiled. Electra then gave a squishy selkie cuddle to her husband.  Oddly, Jasper had become outraged, just as Saturn. No one thought he had it in him.

“Saturn, why? Why would you? Do you fancy trapping fey to make your family? You’d rather lie to keep Elektra from being herself, then lose her to the sea? Are you a coward like the other men, who trap their selkies on land? Is her mother off somewhere too? Woodwick, sure; Nymphs can live happy around humans, and I’d say it was a good choice. But your daughter? She could be suffering away from the sea, and I unwittingly got in a true love relationship with a fey! I trusted you! My wife is not human; At least the other lads get to know before they kiss! You took advantage of my eagerness of my heart, over my head.” Jasper ranted. “Saturn, give her coat back! It belongs to her! I refuse to be another man, holding such a precious fey against her will.” Jasper demanded. Elektra looked confused; Coat? I have another coat, aside from my pink trench?

“But Jasper, I have all my coats in the closet…” Electra said, quietly. Tugging him back into his seat gently.

              Imagine three men, scrambling up a tiny staircase, to get to a locked bedroom, with a locked trunk, to fetch a McGuffin. Tearing each other down, yelling insults, and acting more like beasts then people. Dominque cleaned up the dishes with protest, while all the fey sat at the table, talking merrily about sand. Dominique started to sing for them, to keep them calm; One was a royal dragon after all. The conflict arose as Saturn wanted Elektra to stay his daughter, Jasper wanted to give her freedom, and Hara wanted his father and grandpa to calm down for a minute, and not hurt each other. Whoever possessed the pelt, had the power. After ten minutes of yelling in the attic, Electra looked into the sea. She knew exactly what a selkie was, what humans did to them, and what magic they held. Which is honestly not much aside from exquisite radiance, gullibility, passivity, and swimming skills; Maybe also talents in singing and collecting nautical memorabilia. Elektra looked around the cottage. It was built to be closer to fey, by a man who made her fish pie, and decorated it with chimes made from the shells she collected. With her coat, Electra could go to the shadow veil to meet her selkie mother, her Fish King Mother, and Fish Queen father. She could wander all the seas of the day veil, if she wished. The sea did seem enchanting, luring, and beautiful. Electra got up, and calmly went upstairs.

              Jasper had possession of the coat. When Electra came in, the men were silent. Her father went pale seeing her, and Hara was sobbing. Electra was so confused. Jasper ran up to her, and shoved the soft cream and copper ross selkie skin, into her arms.

“This belongs to you, my love,” He cried. “Take it.”

“NO.” Saturn exclaimed, lunging forward. Hara immediately tackled him, then started profusely apologizing. Electra felt the soft fur, smelled it, and examined it. It looked like a big fur coat, made from plush seal skin. She put it on. Saturn started uncontrollably sobbing, at the thought of never seeing her again; Like he was burying a child.

“I’m sorry, Electra! Please don’t go. Please-” Saturn sobbed.

“I have so little respect for you, grandpa! Not even for the lying. You’re being an idiot, and acting like a child.” Hara said. Electra went downstairs, and her husband, father, and son, followed her. She calmly walked to the sea edge of the ocean. Dominique slammed the screen door, leaving the three men watching Electra gaze into the foggy evening sea. She took a deep breath. The sea always had a low hum to her, and the voices of her sisters were as beautiful as ever. Behind the screen, Hara watched his father and grandfather, throw away their dignity, as they started uncontrollably crying and banging the glass. The palpable regret, love, and fear, was touching. Hara, this whole time, had no opinion. Like his mother, and as a mage, it was all the same to him. He literally did not care that his mother was a selkie. Like he was satisfied with an answer, which explained a lot about his mothers’ behaviour. He felt really bad for his patriarchs. They couldn’t just go to the shadow veil like him, and ask the Fish King where Electra was. To a common folk, watching a fey leave, is a final goodbye.

              The screen door opened, and Electra walked in and put her fur on the coat rack, then sat back down at the table and poured herself tea. In a state of comfort induced by the home, Woodwick had been brewing tea in the background. Electra was humming a soft cheerful tune. Hara went to join the fey at the table with Dominique.

“Really, Electra? The coat rack! That’s no place for an enchanted lifeline!” Jasper said.

“Why didn’t you just go? Your whole life was a lie, and I was so scared. You don’t have to stay anymore. Not for me or anyone. Worse, I know fey don’t feel hate, and you forgive us regardless. If you choose to leave, it is less then I deserve. I just love you so much.” Saturn said. Everyone waited in silence, waiting for Electra’s response.

“I like my life better then being alone in the ocean. That fur is pretty, and really soft, but I don’t think I need it for anything other then resealing. Wait is that the right word….” Electra said, drinking her tea. Saturn sat on the nearest chair, gasping. Jasper ran over to hug his wife. The bitter and comforting smell of tea, was filling the room. Nothing had changed. Electra didn’t care about the ocean. Skin or not, she still swam, cuddled, collected, sang, and hung around her favourite humans.

Leave or stay, nothing would change but Electra’s company. Saturn felt like a fool. The backlash lasted all of an hour; For a lie that worried him for over thirty years. While everyone enjoyed tea, he sat by the window, in disbelief. He felt so relieved, yet also embarrassed. The urge to grab the coat, and put it away still strong. Then, Hara sat next to him, and offered a ceramic mug of tea, that was blacker than the abyss.

“That was dumb. Mom would never leave, just like Woodwick’s not going anywhere due to life you gave him. Besides, you should have known selkies are too stupid to leave the men they love. Honestly, this answers a lot of questions. Father might take a while to process his life though… He’s really not a thinker, is her?” Hara said.

“You have no opinions? You’re not scared of loosing your mother, or seeing your family broken?”

“I am. It just wont effect me as much as a mage. Who it really hurts, is you. I can’t imagine the anxiety you put with every day, for a meaningless lie. Mother loves us, and wouldn’t leave, and I knew it. The fondness fey get for humans, can be incredibly binding in my experience. No one is going to judge you for having a sea daughter, sea wife, or adopting a fairy. Magic is everywhere, that thing is kind is normal in Isfisceard. I mean, I married a dragon princess, and no one cared.”

“Imagine Hara, what the Northlands would be like if the fish kingdom disappeared. Your mother, grandmother, and so many daughters and wives gone. It’s sad, and scary. What if we lost all the sea wives? What if y heart breaks again in my life-time.”

“We would grieve, like people do when they lose someone. Then my student Rah who is Queen in waiting, to crown Fish Prince Broc, would be the new Fish King; And restore the sea fey to our Northland shores. Even if the fey we loved will never be replaced.” Hara smiled. Saturn grimaced; Woodwick had made the tea too strong. Then he paused and turned to Hara. He hugged him, like they would never meet again. Hara may not have full selkie squish, but he felt just as good to hold.

“You are right Hara. I am an idiot. I guess I had too much pride and fear. Or had my heart above my head. To think, when I was a younger man, I feared the being the exact thing I’ve become.”

TABLE OF CONTENTS--->

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[infinitheismworld]

Are you Starved for Love

Begging for love makes you more of a beggar.  If you are starved for love, it is not because enough people do not love you but because you are not expressing your love to enough people.  Starvation of love does not cease by receiving love, but ceases only by giving love.

If you are starved for love, it is not because enough people do not love you but because you are not expressing your love to enough people.

There is a lady in every home, who wakes up earlier than the rest of you and sleeps later than all of you.  She does not have casual leave, privilege leave or sick leave.  No holidays and no rest days.

Could you surprise her with a gift of love in this month of Valentine’s Day?

There is an old man in the house, who has been on his feet all his life for the sake of his family, worked and worked and kept working, much after he had earned enough for himself.  A man who ensured in every possible way that each one in the family would have a better standard of life than what he had.

Could you go beyond the curtains of ego you had drawn between him and you, and demonstrate your love for him in unexpected ways in this month of Valentine’s Day?

There must be a teenage boy or girl in your very home, who isn’t sure, whether you are looking at them as a child or as an adult.  Your stance seems to have so much of dual standards, which is so paradoxical to a teenager.

Can you take your daughter/son on a date, take time with them, befriend them and show them in ways that they understand that you care for them, that you love them beyond their comprehension and that they mean everything to you.  Could this be your way of celebrating this month of Valentine’s Day with a difference?

Could you go back to your Alma Mater and meet your teachers who served as a turning point in your life and give them letters of love and gratitude?  In this month of Valentine’s Day, can you make some of the people who created and recreated you feel extra special?

Above all, can you stop being your own enemy and learn to love yourself?  For so many reasons and in so many ways, you stand against yourself, time and again.  Can you become more charitable towards yourself, forgive yourself of your past and accept yourself as you are?  Can a new love affair, where you are the lover and you are also the beloved begin from this month of Valentine’s Day?

Let the usual festivity of Valentine’s Day continue, but shall we also bring an extended meaning to this month of Valentine’s Day?  Let your love cleanse your life and the life of all the people in your influence.

Love is love, only when it respects the feelings of the other.  When we do not recognise the feelings of the other, we make them feel like a thing, a commodity.  You love others, not for who they are; but for what you can be when you are with them.

Others too love you, not for who you are; but for what they can be when they are with you.  By respecting their feelings, you make them feel respected.

Love is an end in itself.  You love because you love, and not for the reciprocation of love.

The child comes home crying having lost his pencil in the school.  What the child needs now is an adult at home, who in some way can make the child feel that his feelings are respected; but what the child gets is an intellectualisation on whether or not crying is appropriate for something so trifle.  The girl cries in the classroom for she has missed her centum in maths by one mark.

What the girl needs right now is some gesture from the teacher or classmates that they understand her feelings; but what she gets is advice on why she should not let small things bother her.  The teenager is interested in someone from the opposite sex.

What he needs is someone in his life who matters to him, who’ll show him that they understand his sentiments and recognise his feelings; but what he gets is someone philosophising on infatuation.  The wife pours her heart out about what she had gone through in the day.

What she needs is the lap of her husband to sob, his shoulders to cry on and a hand that can wipe her tears and say, “I understand darling…” but what she gets is a special executive seminar on human relationship.  Some gestures, some noise and some one-liners keep coming from the aged parents to suggest that they are not feeling okay.

What they need now are eyes that show care, a touch that confirms ‘I am there for you’ and ears willing to empathise with their feelings; but they get a rational explanation on positive attitude.

Love is recognised as Love, only when we respect the feelings of the other.  Whether those feelings are right or wrong, appropriate or inappropriate… is secondary.  Their primary need is to know, ‘Do you respect my feelings?’

Erroneously, out of our love for them, we assume that we should solve whatever they are going through and approach every situation with loads of intelligence.  People will open up to your solutions only if they know that these solutions are coming from people who love them.

And they will recognise that you love them only if they see that you respect their feelings.  Love must feed the heart first before it even attempts to feed the mind.

Starvation of love is in essence starvation of touch.  Love and touch are synonymous.  When the child was in the womb of the mother, he kept experiencing a oneness with his mother only through the sensation of touch.  Much before the child learns to perceive stimuli through the other senses, he recognises the stimulus of touch.

Every time the child cries out of insecurity, some adult holding the child close to his bosom comforts him.  Children grow in the arms, shoulders and the lap of adults.  Hugging is the most intimate of all experiences for a child.  To every child, touch is oneness and this oneness is their primary understanding of love.

However, as children grow, we adults, withdraw ourselves from touching them.  We start relating TO them rather than relating WITH them.  Once we stop touching them, they become touch starved and this makes them love starved.

True, you may be providing them everything materialistically; while the mind of your child will recognise all these so called expressions of love, the heart keeps longing for touch.  After all, it is not by the amount of money or by the quantum of gifts or by the verbosity of language that the heart grew in love and oneness.

It knew oneness only by touch and it grew in love only by touch.  Every adolescent, who has fallen into the ugliness of perversion, is a case of a child who has been rendered touch-starved by the family.

It does not matter whether it is a parent-child relationship or a husband-wife relationship or a brother-sister relationship… unless there is non-sexual touch in a relationship, there may still be a lot of respect in the relationship but the presence of love in that relationship will not be recognised.

If you want to save your children from joining the ‘World Perversion Club’, bring enough non-sexual touch into your relationship.  If you want to bring back the excitement in marriage, bring back enough non-sexual touch into your relationship.

If you want to bring back those intimate days you shared with your parents, bring back enough non-sexual touch into your relationship.  Lean on their shoulders, take them in your lap, hold their hands in yours, place your head on their lap and experience the river of tears that flow once again in love.

If you miss it now, then you will one day touch the dead body and cry your love out; but then it will be too late.  People who cry the loudest at a funeral are usually the ones who did not touch enough the one who died, when that person was alive?

Even the kings, the queens and the legends crave for this touch of love; after all, they too have the same heart of a human being, as yours and as mine.  So, what makes you think that your father or your mother-in-law may be an exception?

Relationship is about communication, but love is about communion; and communion is only possible through touch.  Nothing deepens love like touch, and nothing starves love like touch starvation.

Call out to your loved ones, “I don’t think my empty arms can hold out any longer… come… come to me.”

Apart from respecting the feelings of those you love and practicing enough non-sexual touch in the relationship, ask every day, “How can I, through my expression of love, make someone’s heart blossom today?”  The economics of love is that it fills the heart of both the giver and the receiver.  So, you do not love for reciprocation of love.  “If you love me, then…”  “I know you love mummy, so please…”  “Okay, I will do this for you because I love you, but then…”  These are not expressions of love, but vulgar transactions made in the name of love.

Love transacted is not love at all.  Love should never be a means.  Love is an end in itself.  You love because you love, and not reciprocation of love.

Also remember, if it hurts then there is love in that relationship.  People ask, “Why do people we love hurt us?”  The very question is wrong.  Hurt is a confirmation that there is love in that relationship.  If that comment or gesture was made by a stranger, it would not have even scratched your heart.

The very fact that it has is a confirmation that it has come from someone you love.  Love hurts; if it hurts then it is love.  If we give up love because it hurts, then our alternatives are only loneliness, despair and death.  Who said love is all laughter?  It is tears too.

After all, love can never be either this OR that; it is this AND that.  Love is an all-inclusive package.

Even a small pebble or a blowing wind can disturb the moon’s reflection in the lake.  It shatters into thousands of pieces all over the lake and as the lake settles down, it again appears as the moon.  Actually, the real moon was never disturbed; only its reflection was.

True love is exactly the same.  Hurt is the ripples, but with time, love settles down to confirm that love was, love is and love will be.

The only word big enough to accommodate love is LIFE.  Love is the only gospel needed, for nothing other than love can transform the world.  Nothing is more cleansing than love.  If you miss love, you miss life.

Do not make love the special prerogative of Jesus Christs, Mother Teresas and Buddhas.  Love is neither patented to anyone nor is it the sole property of a few.  If God is love, and God created this existence with the energy of love, and if God created every human being after his own image, then Love is me, Love is you and Love is us.

Let us together build a loving, lovable and lovely world.  It starts with us.