#it sucks to constantly feel ugly and never be sure if the people who insist you're beautiful actually want YOU

[abigail-rytel]

Every time I see a body positivity post about people who look like me, it's emphatically and exclusively about men.

And every time I see a body positivity post about women, it's emphatically and exclusively about people who don't look like me.

I notice, and it sucks.

[pandoraborn]

BORN TO RISE Chapter 5 Also found here

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 A twelve-year-old Tommy frowns at the paperwork in Philza’s hands. He knows exactly what that paperwork is for and why Phil is trying to keep it hidden. Tommy also knows he’s not supposed to follow the man into his office, but that doesn’t stop Tommy from doing it anyway.

“Tommy, I’m busy, can this wait?” Phil asks with an eye roll. “I need to be alone.”

“Why’re you signing adoption papers?” Tommy insists. “I don’t want to be a part of this family if it means you’re going to use me for competitions.”

Phil stares at him, with an expression that resembles a deer-in-headlights. Tommy would laugh if the situation didn’t feel so urgent. The young teen moves closer to the desk, pressing the palms of his hands down as he glares at Phil. “I mean it Phil, I know the reputation you all have, and I don’t want to be a part of it.”

“You think we’re using you?” Phil shakes his head, looking sad. “Tommy, I’m giving you a home and a family. Just as I extended that to the others, I’m extending that to you. Of course you’re more than a figurehead. I’m more than a figurehead.”

 “You’re a stupid twat, is what you are,” Tommy scowls. He turns to leave, rubbing his palms against the wall as he exits. “Have fun with your paperwork, I guess.”

 “Does this mean I have your approval to adopt you?”

 Tommy won’t admit it out loud, but he’s glad the legendary Philza is taking him in. Tommy can’t quell the pride rising up inside him, and how much he wants to make his foster father look at him with adoration and pride. Maybe not now, but eventually. “Yeah, I guess. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna start calling you dad though.”

 As Tommy closes the door behind him, he hears Phil laugh quietly. Maybe he won’t call him ‘dad’ to his face, but the man has already been the best father he’s ever known.

Tommy wakes, dream almost instantly forgotten when reality sets in.

It’s not a slow climb back to consciousness, but a rapid, dizzying rush, as if he’s bolting from a bad nightmare. He’s gasping for air, but every breath he takes aches in his chest and he feels it in his sides, like someone is squeezing him a little too hard. His first thought is that Dream is gripping him firmly, as if afraid to let go. But when Tommy shifts, he realizes that he’s a few feet from Dream.

Dream is laying facedown, head twisted to the side. Tommy pales when he sees the mask Dream normally wears is cracked and splintered, pieces of it missing. Tommy doesn’t know when that happened; had they hit the cliff walls on their way down? They had to, otherwise the pair would not be in shambles.

More than that, Dream’s weapons and tools are lying around him. His diamond sword is broken clean in half, laying in pieces inches away from the man. Tommy’s trembling as he tries to get up, but only manages a pathetic whimper instead.

He aches too much to move. He aches too much to rise to his hands and knees to crawl over to the unconscious man lying next to him, and he aches too much to even cry.

Tommy’s pretty sure he’d broken a couple of ribs. There’s no way he’d survive this fall and not break a few bones. It’d be too easy to lie here and suffer in agony, but he can hear the rattling of skeletons. If they stay out in the open any longer, they’re most certainly going to die. He weighs the pros and cons of letting them both respawn, but Tommy knows it’ll be more agony he doesn’t want to deal with, and with Dream being out cold, that’s not a risk he really wants to take right now.

“D...ugh.” Tommy can’t even speak. Is his jaw broken too? Everything aches too much for him to think straight, and any shift results in his vision blinking in and out. He has to try something though. He’s not going to be selfish enough to let Dream suffer. For himself, it’s not a huge deal, but Dream, he feels, has to come first.

Tommy lets out a yelp when he finally sits up. Bones crack and joints pop, and he’s certain each movement is causing even more injury, but he doesn’t have a choice. “Dream?” His voice is quiet, broken and hesitant. He’s not expecting a response from the older man, but he’s hoping for one. He needs to know that Dream isn’t completely gone.

Just sitting up was agony enough. Getting to his feet has Tommy hissing and crying and whimpering, trying to keep every bit of pain at bay. It’s hard when he’s nauseated and dizzy, and his vision keeps blinking in and out. It’s even harder to think when his head is thumping so painfully it feels like someone’s cracking his skull open. He wonders if he’s bleeding, too. Probably; he’d be surprised if he wasn’t at this point.

He doesn’t know how hard he’d fallen, and he especially doesn’t even know how he and Dream survived the fall in the first place. By all rights, they should have died and hit respawn. He glances up to see how far the distance is. From down here, it doesn’t look that bad, but it had certainly felt like a much longer fall than it actually was. At least he knows now how they survived.

There’s not enough light to see anything. He can’t see anything above, so he’s certain he’s completely alone now. Tommy rummages through his sack, trying to find anything he can use. He has a broken pickaxe, and he has a few things to build a campfire. He’s glad he’d gotten plenty of wood when he had the chance. What he needs now is coal.

Ignoring how much his body aches, Tommy starts mining away into the wall, grateful for the iron and the coal he’s finding right away. The process takes a lot longer than Tommy intends, and he has to constantly stop to take a breather. He’s opening wounds more, with blood dripping down his arms. His muscles are screaming at him, but Tommy forces himself to continue. He has to get Dream out of the open and into somewhere they can hide.

When the small hole is big enough, Tommy places two torches down against the wall as a small light source. He has to rely on that to keep the mobs at bay; it’s making him uneasy that there are creepers lurking nearby. The last thing Tommy wants is for one to wander too close and explode, killing both of them.

He bends over Dream, tapping the man on the cheek. “Dream?” Tommy asks. There’s a grunt of pain, followed by faint stirring, but nothing beyond that. He’s either sleeping or more injured than Tommy knows how to deal with.

He rolls Dream over, wincing at the injuries on the man. In the dim, flickering light of the torches, he can see an ugly purple bruise forming underneath the cracked and broken helmet. Tommy hisses when he realizes he’s probably sporting a similar bruise. When his thoughts zero back in on his own injuries, Tommy thinks of how Phil would handle this. Phil would probably murder Dream and Tommy both, as well as the other members of the team. His brothers would be right behind him...

The thought of his family brings a new sort of ache. Tommy misses home. He misses being at home and in bed where it’s warm and he has actual food, and is around people who don’t run him ragged or cause him to get hurt. God, everything just sucks right now. This entire training session had been a disaster from the get-go, and it’s even more of one now.

He pushes thoughts of the Sleepybois out of his head. He can’t afford to think about them right now, not when it’s the middle of the night and there are zombies and skeletons and creepers surrounding them. He hooks his hands around Dream’s arms, trying to grip tightly without screaming in pain. Keeping his grip tight is making him feel like his arms are going to pop right off his body, but he chomps down on his tongue and starts dragging Dream into his makeshift cave, inch by inch.

Even Dream is crying out in pain. Tommy ignores the tears streaming down his cheeks as he backs into the hole, finally dropping Dream when they’re safe enough inside. Falling against the wall, Tommy heaves, fighting down waves of nausea and pain, ignoring how Dream rolls over and goes right back to sleep. He’s too dizzy, too injured, and it’s taking a lot more energy to remain upright than he wants to spend.

He can’t afford to go to sleep yet. He still has to build the campfire, and just the thought of moving again has Tommy wanting to collapse. He rests on his knees, trying to massage sore limbs first. He wants to clean the blood off, he wants to find food. More than ever, Tommy wants to go home.

Again, thoughts of his family take over his mind. He can’t push the thoughts away this time, they’re swirling around as he builds the fire. He’s no longer crying out of pain now, but out of guilt. He can’t do this. He can’t do this, specifically. This whole ordeal hadn’t been worth it. Had he known he’d end up cold and injured at the bottom of a ravine, he never would have entered competitions in the first place.

He can see the expressions of disappointment on Phil’s face. He can hear his brothers mocking him, jeering at him and joking about how he can’t handle the heat. Why wouldn’t they? Tommy remembers the training sessions they’d all gone through, they’ve all pushed themselves beyond what they could handle and have barely broken a sweat.

He’s not like them. He’s competed with them a few times, even earned himself a few victories, but Tommy knows he’s nowhere near their level of skill. He’s always skated by unnoticed. His dad and brothers get all the attention. Dream gets all the attention, he’s just the sixteen year old with a hot mouth and even hotter temper.

“Who am I playing at?” Tommy growls to himself. He lays a few pieces of meat next to the fire in an attempt to cook it. At least moving is getting slightly easier, now that he’s not completely straining himself. “I’m not good enough.”

He sits back down and hunches forward in front of the fire. He doesn’t even bother wiping his eyes dry as he watches the meat sizzle. Behind him, he can hear Dream stirring again, but Tommy ignores him. The stupid bastard is asleep, which Tommy is thankful for. He wants to be even more alone than he is now.

Burying his face in his hands, Tommy groans.

“I wanna go home,” he mutters. “I just wanna go home and forget about all of this. I’ve never been good enough, I’m just a stupid kid, and I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.”

He turns around to glare at Dream, not flinching when he sees the man’s eyes open. Turning back toward the fire, Tommy hunches forward again, ignoring the way his head is pounding now.

“Tommy?”

“Being friends with you and your stupid team isn’t worth it anymore,” Tommy grumbles. “Sorry, but I’m done.”

[thecursedhellblazer]

Plotted starter for @blindeddevil​​

London had many shapes. Some of them were visible to everyone, from her stable residents to the tourist who set their foot in her bosom for the very first time. Others were more subtle and so well hidden that you could have lived in the City from the womb to the grave and you would have never been able to noticed them. It was the kind of impossible things that required not just an attentive eye, but a very open mind too. And they also a brave leap of faith, the stubborn will to believe in what most would have considered madness, dark myths, horrific fantasies.

John Constantine had always had the right eye for everything strange, out of place, impossible. The darker the better and the easier for him to spot. His mind had been cracked open at a very young age, too young for him not to bear the marks of it, in his sanity, on his body and on his soul, and it was both a blessing and a damnation. It made him good at what he did, but the price had been so very often almost too much to bear. He coped with chain smoking to soothe his nerves, casual sex to delude himself, in one, brief moment of thoughtless bliss, that he could have seen another dawn without shattering for the umpteenth time, and far too much drinking to knock him unconscious, in the hope that the alcohol would have push him deep enough for the nightmares to catch up with him. It wasn’t ideal, but nor was balancing himself between unrepentant selfishness and a too stormy ocean of self-loathing.

Looking at him, most people wouldn’t have been able to see the constant, bone-deep exhaustion that accompanied in every waking moment. All they saw was the charming, sharp smirk and the irritating devil-may-care attitude. Trench coat with every kind of weather, smart, comebacks, all cigarette and arrogance. He burst into their lives, did and took whatever he needed to and then left, leaving them confused, torn between annoyance, disbelief and fascination. So blinded by what he showed off that they were never allowed to spot the cracks that ran all over underneath the surface, large and ugly and impossible to fix.

John knew all that and he constantly exploited every advantage that it bought him, every opening that it provided, every weak spot that it uncover. Ruthless because he had no choice but being it, without hesitation because there was always time for the guilt to come back to haunt him later. And oh, how many regrets he had accumulated already. Too many to count, even if he could have named each one of them with deadly precision.

It was a mostly lonely life, one in which every connection could have been turned in yet another thing you would have either lost because of a bad choice, a mistake or been forced to sacrifice in the same of something else. Magic always came with a price and there was no way to cheat that rule, not even for the man who was known as “Conjob” even in Hell.

The magician chewed the butt of his cigarette slowly, studying the building before him. It looked nothing more than an abandoned warehouse, one of the many that still stood in the outskirts of the City. Scribbled walls, eroded by rain and humidity, broken windows kept closed by old wooden boards, chains on the rusty doors blocking entrance. A crumbling construction waiting for someone to decide its sad fate. However, he could feel that there was much more to it, under its anonymous facade, and literally under the building itself too. Dark energy sprouting from the ground and raising, reaching out from the cloudy sky, trying to suck the light out and poisoning the air all around.

At first, when he had decided to investigate the sightings, he had been slightly skeptical. However, the alternative would have been agreeing to pack up and allowing Chas to drag him into that bloody vacation his best friend kept insisting he needed so badly, so he had used them as an excuse to evade the other’s insistence once again. However, it had turned out that, all considered, he had made the right choice, and not just the selfish one. There was something going on there, something that couldn’t be explained with some random rumour made to drive people to keep away from a bad neighbourhood so that the local criminals could handle their business in peace. The Darkness was thick and strong, impossible to miss for someone like him, who knew how to perceive it.

Constantine blew out one last mouthful of smoke before letting his cigarette fall on the ground. The trail, however, didn’t dissipate in the cold air of the night, but instead it shaped itself in a line at a flick of his wrist and a whispered word, a thread that, from where he was standing, stretched toward the building. A track for him to follow, straight into the open jaws of whatever horror was lying in wait ahead of him.

A mysterious figure ripping through the shadows, a monster with the head of a stag leaving a trail of blood but no corpses behind it. Ghostly whispers echoing among the walls of narrow alleys, coming apparently from nowhere. And damn if that place held a smell that was very familiar even if it shouldn’t have been. The very peculiar stench of Hell itself, a mixture of sulfur, rot and despair.

One last look at his surroundings, blue eyes scanning the veil of darkness that had fallen on the roads, just to make sure that he hadn’t missed anything, and John stepped forward, following the trail of smoke he had willed into becoming his guide towards the source of the energy he was sensing. He was probably about to walk into some sort of trouble, crossing that threshold without knowing what he would find behind it, but after all that was what he tended to do. You couldn’t win a game of gambling if you didn’t take risks. And, among the many things, he happened to be a gambler too.

[beautifulletdownfics]

‘someday, someday’ :: tumblr edition, #20

Harry 

For a brief moment I looked up across the space in front of me—beautiful Royal Albert Hall. The house lights were up and the stage empty and still. I was aware of the chilled air, the distinct smell of upholstered seats and comfortingly stagnant air took me back to all the times I stood in an empty venue the day of a show and just let myself be overwhelmed by the space.

My eyes dropped back to the program in my lap, cracked and folded open on the most precious few paragraphs I'd read in years.

There was so much I hadn't known about her.

… the youngest female horn player in the orchestra’s hundred year history …

… the youngest player to be invited to join the Blackpool Symphony Orchestra …

… finalist for the BBC Young Musician of the Year … winning the following year …

… Protégé of Maestro Vincent Ward …

“Holy shit,” I breathed aloud after my second read through, rubbing my hand over my chin as I scanned the whole page again. Nina was in the middle of the page, below her section lead, listed as Co Principal Trumpet. I felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest.

The headshot beside Nina’s paragraph was beautiful—it captured her pretty eyes and was lit in a way that gave her mystery and soulfulness—but I was more impressed by the biography written in the program. I felt as though I needed a few moments to process each line. It was like meeting her for the first time all over again, and it was hard to attach the young woman I was reading about onto the Nina I knew when it seemed she was constantly underselling herself.

I'd never considered before just how humble Nina was, which was more a reflection on my not fully grasping the scope of her musicality than on Nina's attitude. Still, I was sure if I had been privy to the level of talent she was Nina would have still behaved the same way.

"I think Harry's going to cry," Max leaned forward and hitched his elbow on the armrest between us to look at Rodger on my other side, "He's read Nina's bio about a hundred times."

"I thought I heard sniffing," Rodger smirked, keeping his eyes ahead.

I looked between them both, "Would it really have killed either of you to sit me down at some point and just say 'FYI Harry, Nina's legitimately a genius.' I don't even know what half of these words mean but she’s amazing," I waved the program in front of Rodger's face.

He turned to looked at me, “Gifted,” Rodger corrected, “Nina's not just a genius. She's gifted. And it all means that Nina's way out of your league."

I rolled my eyes and hunched a little in my seat, "Thanks, mate."

"I'm teasing," Rodger said more gently. "Nina hated writing that. She might have even been a little bit serious when she said joining the orchestra wasn't worth feeling like such a twat, so I ended up writing it for her."

I smiled, imaging Nina having to write about herself in third person, "I can imagine. But she should be proud."

"That's what I told her," He said.

I scanned down the words again, "I didn't realised she went to Cambridge when she was sixteen. That's so young."

"They would have taken her sooner," Rodger supplied, "Richard was insistent she finish school with her mates first."

Nina's dad was also a discovery, she had definitely played down his status—whether deliberately or not I wasn't sure, although I was inclined to think it wasn't calculated. Nina spoke about her parents as parents, and she had only ever given details of Richard's job in terms of her family traveling around and living abroad depending on where he was working. I should have pieced together that he was significantly accomplished.

Reading the brief line about Richard certainly explained the Grand Tier seats we were ushered into and why he seemed to be stopped by half a dozen people in the foyer. Especially when I had only noticed one lingering glance aimed at me.

Richard was now standing next to his seat two rows above where Rodger, Max and I were seated, shaking the hand of a man who seemed to have a lot to say to him. I wasn't exactly sure what the title of 'Maestro' next to Richard’s name meant in classical music circles, but I knew enough to know the Italian label would be linked to some kind of prestige I'm sure was hard earned.

Something ugly balled in my stomach and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

Bree's father had weighed heavily on my brief relationship with her. In hindsight (and a little bit at the time as well) starting anything with the daughter of a record label executive had been unwise. Bree knew how to throw her father's name around and despite seeing the sinister side to it, the calculating and manipulative, I hadn't the good sense to avoid or stop myself being put in the situation I should never have been in. Even more stupidly, I was only ever halfway in the relationship—one foot out the door, or on the plane back to England—because while I liked her enough to physically be with her, I wasn't interested in anything more. All the while, I knew for Bree it was mainly about who I was and what it did to her ego to be seen with me. She was very in that world.

Nina wasn't from a world anywhere close to that, but I was certainly discovering a new world that she definitely was a part of. Everything outside of the actual music made Nina uncomfortable though, that much I knew. She was acutely aware of what was expected of her and I thought it was a credit to her for the way she fought against it to try to sort out what she actually wanted.

Gifted.

Nobody had quite let on how talented Nina was. I’d even been to a performance before, but that was only a few weeks into her joining the orchestra and so to now see her featured in the program as a soloist with her credentials clearly laid out I was coming to see how much my assumptions had undersold Nina. To have proved herself to the conductor and her seniors to such a degree in such a short space of time was remarkable in itself.

“Now you see why everyone lost their minds a bit at her quitting,” Rodger said quietly, pulling me out of my thoughts, “Whatever happened at Cambridge with that fucker sucked all this out of her,” He gestured to the room, “She’s brilliant, Harry. Brilliant. You don’t even know the half of it.”

“I think I’m beginning to,” I said slowly, my eyes flicking back to the photo in my lap.

+++

I hadn't been so enthralled by music in a long time.

It reminded me of the night of our first date when Nina and I went to see Les Miserables on the West End. I spent that night engulfed in music that hadn't previously moved me but suddenly with Nina did. I'd spent a good portion of that night watching Nina over what else was happening which was half of the magic. I would never have thought making a girl cry on a date could be a wonderful thing, but her emotional reaction had brought out one in me as well.

In Royal Albert Hall, my eyes were glued to her from the moment the lights came up on stage to reveal the orchestra and the conductor was introduced. I spotted her easily, standing in a back row on a riser with two other horn players. The first few pieces I watched her, hearing exactly where her part sat from seeing when she had her instruments to her lips and when she lowered it again.

I felt nerves like I've never felt before when she was introduced and started making her way to the from to the orchestra for the first song she was the soloist on. Her conductor introduced her as a “richly talented multi-instrumentalist” with “remarkable musical instincts”. I watched her while he spoke, she ducked her head but then graciously smiled at the audience, accepting the praise. I was surprised to see she stood with nothing in front of her—no music stand or sheet music.

I instantly readjusted myself in my seat and sat forward when I got a proper view of her. I hadn’t seen Nina today yet, and she had managed to skip over what she was wearing for the performance every time it had come up in conversation. She described it to me as floor length and boring, black and completely over the top. I squinted, annoyed she was so far away and craving seeing more.

It was floor length, with full lace sleeves but the dress was far from modest. It clung to her silhouette, mapping her curves perfectly with a low cut on her chest. What had me biting my lip painfully was the sinful split that went halfway up her thigh, showing off her legs and making the dress not at all boring and incredibly sexy. Desire for her burned, as if witnessing her talent alone wasn't going to be torture enough. My mind wandered back to having her up on my kitchen bench a week ago, my waist slotted neatly between the legs I was now trying unsuccessfully not to dwell on.

Nina’s performance was incredible, it started slowly and built. Nina commanded the attention of everyone and the melody was so beautiful and gentle my heart hurt with emotion. The sound from her instrument filled the room and witnessing the Royal Albert Hall alight with applause for her at the end of the song was overwhelming. I looked around Nina's friends and loved ones—everyone had tears in their eyes or were dabbing at their cheeks. Georgie couldn't seem to stop a very un-classical music whoop out, laughing at herself when it drew the attention of a few of the other audience members. Both Nina's parents had tears streaming down their faces, hands clung together.

After the second song Nina stood as the soloist, I clapped until my hands hurt and shook my head to myself in disbelief. Hearing a whole orchestra pushing her playing along, but feeling the tension in the fact that really she was leading them. The conductor was constantly glancing her way to make sure he directed the other players in order to showcase Nina's talent as best he could.

Nina's passion and talent was so attractive and it lit her up from the inside out. I was so proud to know her, even prouder to see that strength and power was inside her when I also knew some of the battles and struggles she faced.

There wasn't an inch of doubt in her performance, her shoulders squared and she was unwavering in her control of the notes she produced. Nina was a young woman capturing the entire Royal Albert Hall with her gift and I watched her gain the admiration and respect of them all.

I was baffled by the thought that I'd so seemingly just waltzed upon her in my life. I was initially so inexplicably drawn to Nina and had thought it was because she felt normal—she represented a kind of life and person that I'd come to appreciate the value in over the years. I was so used to people behaving strangely around me due to my public image that I had selfishly assumed she was intimidated by it.

Those initial few times I'd spent time with her she seemed to do everything in her power to not be the focus. There had been something about her that I was so captivated by though, and everything I'd learned about her since only served to intensify that feeling and reassure me that my gut feeling that knowing Nina would be special was worth it.

And now to have been completely humbled by how much more special she was than I had first though. Nina wasn’t normal at all—not by a long stretch.

My feelings for her were on fire and I just wanted to have her in front of me so I could tell her how brilliant and dazzling and remarkable she was.

+++

The foyer was full to the brim with friends and family of the orchestra, all waiting with excitement for their loved one to appear from the door. The room was buzzing happily, and every few minutes another group of the musicians would exit from the backstage door and be met by happy cries.

Nina eventually emerged with her section lead, Ryan, they shared a few words and a hug before parting ways. I knew that Nina was grateful to him for reaching out and including her right from the beginning, it could have been a hard transition socially to be the new player but from all her reports she had settled in well with the group.

I watched impatiently as Nina's dad appeared in front of her first, pulling her into a tight hug. She had a leather jacket over her dress now, but the low cut and split up the leg were still deliciously prominent.

I tuned out of the conversation Rodger and Max had been having about the best venues they'd been to and watched the exchange between Nina and her Dad. I angled myself so I could hear them better, not wanting to miss Nina getting the praise she deserved. Her cheeks were flush but her eyes were bright and happy. My gaze dropped to her exposed leg and then slowly back up, I swallowed thickly.

She looked positively radiant, and she met my lingering gaze on her, smiling at me and then tilting her head to one side in question at whatever she saw.

"Magnificent performance," Her dad said, drawing her back to him, "You shone up there, bravo."

"Thanks Dad," She said over his shoulder as they hugged again, Nina's eyes met mine again and I winked at her, earning a deeper blush.

“I mean it,” He continued, “I wouldn't have said a thing if you’d decided to never play again. But I’m so glad you did, Nina. So glad.”

"Dad," She replied quietly, looking briefly at her feet.

"How do you think it went?" He asked, watching his daughter closely. Richard's question wasn't a pushy one, there wasn't a sense of him being a 'stage parent'. His question was genuine, encouraging.

"It felt good," Nina started slowly, "It's taken a bit of time to feel like I'm gelling with everyone. But tonight felt good."

He put his arms lightly on her shoulders and levelled down so she was eye height, "Tonight was good. So good."

"I know I was sat in a dark spot, you hardly would have seen me," She said bashfully.

"You were brilliant, I heard every note," Richard said with finality. "Your tone and the buoyancy of your solos were magnificent."

"I get all my talent from my Dad," Nina grinned cheekily, "I owe it all to him." He smiled, "You owe it all to yourself. I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks Dad."

He took her shoulders in his hands again and turned Nina around to face where the rest of us were standing, "You blew them all away too," he gave her a gentle shove in the right direction after pressing a kiss to her cheek, "For five minutes pretend you enjoy the attention, you've earned it."

I watched Nina take a deep breath before she stepped out, I hung back, feeling as though this was a moment for her family to have with her first.

"Darling!" Mae, Nina's mum got to her before anyone else, "You were spectacular! We're so proud of you!"

"Thanks Mum," Nina said, blushing when she looked back over to me and I was still watching her. I was passed worrying about being caught out staring at her.

Mae showed restraint I don't know that my own mother could have, still, I put it down to her understanding her daughter and knowing Nina didn't want to be made a fuss of, much less in the public foyer area. They had a conversation so quick I missed it when Bel and Georgia bumped into me trying to rearrange the bunches of flowers they had to give Nina.

"I'm going to go find your dad and we'll go back to the hotel," Mae hugged Nina again and kissed my cheek, "You come whenever you're ready. Champagne will be waiting for you."

She turned and left, and I watched her briefly as she approached Richard and as soon as he felt her arm on his shoulder the pair of them happily smiled at each other. The love between Nina's parents was obvious.

Nina's girlfriends engulfed her next and I was dragged back into conversation with Rodger and Max. They were bickering with Nina's cousin Josh about a film I hadn't seen but for some reason I needed to be a deciding vote on. I ended up turning to the smallest body, Nina’s youngest cousin, Olivier, who was looking around appearing to be a little lost in all the adult conversations around him. His eyes were trained on Nina though.

“I bet if you went and pounced on her for a hug it would make her night,” I told him, sinking some of my height so I was on a more even playing field with him.

His eyes widened and brightened as he looked up at me, “I want to,” He said, but then seemed to think better of it, “But my mum said I’m not allowed to get any marks on my new suit … Which means no tackling.”

Oliver’s hands brushed down the lapels of a suit that looked about three sizes too big and was probably brought large in the hope it would last him the next few years. It was clear that he had been specifically told tackling wasn’t allowed and I smiled, I could remember being that age and finding wrestling my cousins the best way to pass the time at family events.

“It is a very dapper suit,” I reasoned with him.

“Did you enjoy tonight, Harry?” He suddenly asked, all the guise of a kid who had been taught good manners and how to have conversation with grown ups. The words didn’t quite match the little personality I’d come to know him as, but I loved his effort.

“Very much,” I told him, mimicking his polite tone, “How did you like it?”

“Good, Nina is so good,” He gushed, “My dad says she’s a miracle.”

The admiration Oliver had for Nina was evident and it filled me with an additional serve of happiness. He was watching Nina being doted on by her friends shyly, despite the fact I knew they were familiar to him.

We both lifted our heads when the circle of girls beside us broke into laughter

"Georgie!"

I instinctively turned around when I heard Nina cry out her friend's name. She was bright red and trying her best to scowl at the other three who were all still laughing at her. My gut told me her friends were using me to embarrass her, just like they’d been doing all evening.

“Go sneak in,” I told Oliver, pointing to the circle, “I’ll run interference if any of them try to block you.”

He grinned at me and then shuffled forward, dodging under Sam’s arm and attaching himself to Nina’s waist in a hug. Nina’s face melted at the contact and she shoved the flowers back into Bel's arms, told her friends to "sod off" and wrapped her arms around Olivier’s body, swaying him in a hug. They had a little chat before Nina looked up and held a hand out to her other cousins who all briefly congratulated her before being called away by their parents to get back to the hotel. Oliver trotted after them all.

“Rodg,” Nina finally joined our conversation and the need to reach out for her had me clasping my hands together behind my back.

“Fucking brilliant,” Rodger said, throwing his arms around her and giving her a tight squeeze, “Lungs of steel.”

Max kissed her cheek and whispered something to Nina that had a gentle smile gracing her face, she nodded and gave him a hug that lasted a little longer than Rodger’s. I watched, knowing that despite his outgoing nature, Max had a special knack when it came to Nina. They were kindred spirits in a way somehow, she brought him down a level and conjured out a version of Max I rarely saw.

“Now, go talk to this dapper young man,” Max said loud enough to shake me out of my thoughts, he was smiling at Nina and pointing at me, “His jaw has been hanging open the whole night.”

Nina gave him her instrument which had been hanging heavily at her side or on the floor between her legs while she spoke to everyone else. He briefly confirmed the name go the hotel we were all heading to and gave her another one armed hug before walking away with a waiting Rodger.

Everyone else had cleared out of the foyer, Nina’s parents and extended family left into the night and her girlfriends were chatting to a young guy who had been walking around with trays of drinks earlier. He was bright red and looking around to be rescued from the band of attractive women before him.

"Hello," Nina said, smiling up at me.

“Hi,’ I returned, “Saved the best until last, right?”

She rolled her eyes fondly at being caught out avoiding me, “Absolutely,” Nina said, but then she softened slightly and an adorable pinkness rose to her cheeks, ”Thank you for being here, I’m really happy you came."

"Me too, I will honestly never forget tonight," I continued slowly, holding one hand face up out to her, "You were—are—astounding."

Nina put her hand in mine and let me pull me forward slightly, "Thank you," She said as I pressed my lips to my cheek softly and breathed in her perfume. I felt her squirm slightly. I desperately wanted to kiss her properly but didn’t want to risk it in such a public space. I was sure she was conscious of the beady eyes of her girlfriends and family on us.

“Can I also just say that dress is breathtaking. Truly,” I held her gaze for a second before curling my fingers around the bottom of her jacket and pulling it open a little more, “I am far from bored looking at you in it.”

“Harry,” She gushed.

“Oh, come here," I laughed, pulling her into a tight hug, "I thought I would burst from pride while you were playing. You're amazing. And absolutely gorgeous as well.”

"Alright Mr. Brit Award," She returned quietly, a rare acknowledgement of my job coming from her.

I settled my lips on the crown of her head and pulled away from the hug, but then draped my arm around her, "Trust me, if they gave Brit Awards out for talent you'd have a hundred of them before I'd figured out which way was up."

"Have they given you shit all evening?" Nina asked of her family, gracefully jumped the conversation away from my compliment and I smiled at her.

"Not at all," I dismissed easily, looking over as her girlfriends left through the automatic doors on the other side of the room to stand with Rodger and Max outside, “I really like your people.”

And I’d really like to kiss you right now.

"Are you going to come back for a drink, or do you need to head off?”

“I’m coming,” I assured her quickly, “Your mum has already checked twice. I’ll drive you and the girls … If they don’t get in a cab first.”

“I think they’ve already had a few wines.” “I can verify that,” A thought suddenly coming to me, “Hey, can you sign this for me?

I reached for the program that had been rolled and tucked into my back pocket, unfurling it in front her. Nina’s face was exactly the reaction I had been after—her eyes bulged and she looked absolutely horrified.

“Put that away!” She cried, covering her face on the page with her hands and pressing it against my chest, “Who gave that to you?”

I grinned, “I bought it, they were selling them as we came in.”

"You weren't meant to buy one!"

"Me specifically?" I was enjoying teasing her.

"Yes! You specifically!” She pointed a finger to my chest and I grabbed it in my own.

"You put my name on a list somewhere as someone who was categorically not to be sold a program?"

"I should have," Nina grumbled, she snatched the program out of my hands and held it behind her back.

I took a step closer to her so our chests were almost touching, before Nina could step away I'd wound my arm around her back and while I held her gaze I was able to tug the booklet out of her hand. She looked up at me quietly, watching my face closely. The only indication that she was affected by my being so close was the breath she had taken in and was yet to release.

If we were anywhere else right now I'd be kissing you silly.

"Breathe," I prompted her gently, sure she was thinking she same thing I was. "You should be very proud, Miss Lawrence. This is an extremely impressive wrap up. And if you won't sign the booklet for me then I'd like you to please come hold my hand while I get 'I'm dating a Protégé' tattooed on my forehead."

"You're such an idiot," She said quietly.

"Compared to you, we all are," I said back slowly, “Now, come outside with me so I can find somewhere to kiss you because I doubt you'll appreciate if I do it here.”

Nina held her breath again for a second but then squeezed my forearm where she had been holding it.

I smiled and nodded toward the doors, “Let’s get out of here.”

We got out the front and everyone seemed to have left already. If Nina was at all perturbed by them else leaving without us she didn’t show it.

“My car is this way,” I said, holding out my hand to her when she had finished wrapping herself up in her coat and scarf.

“They’re all such alcoholics,” Nina said, slipping her hand into mine, letting me lead the way.

We were both quiet on the few minute walk to the street where I managed to find a park earlier. I wasn’t sure what Nina was thinking about, but I was thinking about how fucking brilliant it felt to have her by my side. To be walking down the street of an evening, our hands linked, just being with her. But to have Nina want to be with me as well was breathtaking, and one that I’d found myself circling around all night. I watched that incredible performance and wondered what on earth that gifted young woman was doing with me.

The morning after I had learned of her depression I’d stumbled upon a similar feeling; Nina choosing me. She’d come down the stairs and sat next to me on the sofa, Rodger and her cousin watching her. To have Nina come and chose me in a room with the people who had always been there for her felt like a breakthrough I was overjoyed to have arrived at, even though in the moment it had churned worry in my gut at her pushing herself to it. Somewhere along the line something great clicked and Nina wasn’t as hesitant and nervous around me.

We got to my car and Nina went to walk to the passenger side. I didn’t relinquish my hold on her hand though and as soon as she turned to me in question I stepped right up to her and kissed her, mindful of keeping her new dress from touching the car behind her.

She took a breath under me, and I dropped her hand to frame her face with my own. I held my lips against hers for another second before moving my head to the side to start deepening it. As soon as my tongue parted her lips Nina opened up to me completely, she wound her arms around my back and moved her mouth against mine deliciously.

My hands went up under her jacket to roam her back, feeling the curve of her waist and then back up to trace the side of her breasts. She took a deep breath in at the sensation and stepped even closer to me, I didn’t hide from her just how turned on I was and she didn’t shy away from it either.

“Jesus,” I breathed, moving away from her mouth to kill down her neck where I had pulled her hair back, “You do crazy things to me, Nina Lawrence.”

Nina moved her arms up over my neck and pulled her body up mine slightly, her chest pressed highly against mine, giving me more leverage to move my lips over her exposed skin. She stumbled when they pressed against the shell of her ear and I laughed as I caught her weight.

“I haven’t made out against a car before,” She whispered, and I pulled back to look at her in the streetlight. She was flushed and the area around her lips was pink where I had smudged her lipstick. She looked utterly ravishing.

“Get in,” I said slowly, “Before I say something undignified.”

“Undignified?” She teased out with a wicked smile.

“Yes. Like asking how difficult would it be for me to convince you to stay at my house tonight?” I asked boldly, knowing I probably shouldn’t but being unable to deny the slight chance she might take me up.

“I thought we were going slow,” Nina countered. “That was before you were a protégé,” I hummed.

She laughed, one of her hands going up to her own mouth to remove any smudged lipstick. I raised my hand to get a bit she had missed, waiting for Nina to say something.

“The girls are staying with me …” Nina gave me an unsure but concerned look, letting the words hang.

I kissed her gently, “Say no more,” I said, not wanting her to gain any unease at thinking she had disappointed me. “Get in, let’s go.”

She reached up to give me a chaste kiss before turning to the door and opening it. I stood dumbfounded, watching her legs disappear into my car when the split of her dress rode up as Nina sat.

I walked around to the driver’s side quickly, pausing for half a second before I opened my door to take a breath and get ready for relinquishing Nina back to her family for the rest of the evening.

Nina reapplied her lipstick while I drove us across London to the hotel her family were staying at. I stole glances at her as I drove, she had pulled out some heavy duty looking lip balm to apply first and Nina easily explained that after a performance her lips were tender from the pressure from her instrument. She gave me a sly look when I suggested the kissing was my attempt at helping to soothe.

I drove into the car park under the hotel, deciding the exorbitant cost was worth not having to drive around the streets outside. Nina unclipped her seatbelt quickly once we had parked and she was out her door before I had collected my phone and wallet from the middle console. She had rounded the car and was waiting for me when I jumped down and pressed the lock key.

“Keen for a drink?” I asked, smiling at her, swallowing hard as I looked over her. Nina had taken off her jacket and had looped it through the small back evening bag across her body.

“Not particularly,” she said, taking a step closer to me. I looked down and the tips of our shoes were almost touching, her left leg exposed past her knee.  

“I swear to god, Nina,” I strained when I looked up and watched her tongue dart out over her bottom lip. She knew exactly what I was thinking and when she leaned forward and melted her body into mine all restraint I might have regained on the short drive flew out into the night.

She kissed me softly at first, holding back sweetly until Nina felt my hands curl around the back of her neck. We moved against each other hotly, I could taste the mint from her lipstick and her hair was crinkly from hairspray between my fingers. Making out with Nina was maddeningly sexy and I kept my hands where they were in an attempt to control my raging hormones while our mouths moved together.

It was when I felt Nina’s hands move from my back around to dance just above my hip bones at my belt that my own hands felt out to cover them to halt her movements.

“Neens,” I moaned, pulling my mouth back from her, “We’ve gotta stop.”

She pressed her lips back to mine for a brief second, “Sorry.”

I held my forehead against hers and shut my eyes for a moment, “Don’t bloody apologise. Don’t ever apologies for this feeling.”

“I really love you in a suit,” Nina said quietly, letting me tightly hold her hands. She looked down at my chest and then back to my face slowly.

It jogged my memory to something I couldn’t believe I had forgotten, “Give me one second, I forgot something.”

I rounded to the back of the car, popping it open and slipping off my suit jacket as it rose. Nina arrived at my side and watched with a confused expression on her face. When I started undoing the buttons of my shirt I smirked at the horrified shock that came over her.

“Harry!” She all but screeched, “What are you doing!”

“You’ll see,” I said cryptically, watching as she failed to keep her eyes from wandered down my bare chest when I pulled the shirt off my shoulders. My body hummed, more than anything to hold her like this, but I reached for the folded t-shirt Rodger had brought to the studio for me during the week.

“You’re going to hate this, which is why I love it so much,” I explained, leaning forward to peck her lips quickly. Nina’s eyes were wide as she watched me, completely baffled as to what was going on.

“I have no idea what is happening right now,” She trailed off when I pulled the white t-shirt over my head, pulling it down around my hips and then turning to face her properly.

“Ta-da,” I gave her jazz hands and a laugh burst out of me when Nina’s hands came up to cover her own cheeks.

“Harry what the fuck is that!”

Nina’s cousin Josh had messaged me on Whatsapp the week before asking what size t-shirt I was, and when he went on to explain the novelty shirts with Nina’s face on them and a music pun the family was getting made up. I was chuffed to be included in the joke, and he told me he’d give my shirt to Rodger for me to collect.

Her cousins, brother and Rodger and Max were all going to be wearing them when we got upstairs.

Josh had dug out a photo of Nina holding her trumpet up to be printed onto the middle of the shirt and underneath the words ‘Life without Nina would B♭’ in terrible, tacky font below. They weren’t made to look professionally done, which was part of what I loved about the shirts to much.

I grinned down at her, “Do you love it? Be nice,” I hurried in a mock pleading voice, “It’s new.”

Nina’s mouth was still hanging open, “You’re completely mad!”

My laughter spilled out, “Sure am, baby.”

[mattatouile]

jaime x brienne teenage vampire AU

Brienne is the single most infuriating person he's ever had the misfortune to meet. Jaime is a Vampire Disaster instead of a Human Disaster;

Just got out of a centuries long relationship with his "sister", who is an actual monster;

Jaime is a "vegetarian" vampire, the rest of his family is supposed to be, but Cersei sucks (get it?) at it. This is part of why he and his "sister" Cersei broke up;

The Lannisters all move to Tarth because it's basically Scotland, always cloudy with a 65% chance of rain (higher than that? who can tell never been to Scotland. Or Tarth.);

Jaime goes to Duncan the Tall High School, because I have no chill. He gets partnered in chemistry (get it?) with the tallest girl he's ever seen;

If not for the girl's, Brienne's, eyes, he would truly think she was a vampire, too. She's ghostly pale and seems to disdain humans in a way he's only seen in his fellow vampires;

He can't quite figure out why Brienne seems so unimpressed by him. Most humans are bowled over by how handsome he is. Then he realizes all the hot people in school are mean to her. He noticed how ugly she was, but she smells like the tastiest meal imaginable, so it seemed not important to him. It must be that he’s just so hot she doesn’t trust him;

He's not going to eat her. HE'S NOT. But it makes him constantly nervous because he thinks Cersei is starting to notice that he's drawn to Brienne and that's Bad News Bears;

To protect Brienne, Jaime decides he HAS to tell her he and his brother, sister, and father are vampires. Brienne stares at him for like five minutes and just turns and walks away. Jaime thought up a bunch of scenarios, but that wasn't one of them;

Jaime tries to go to Brienne's house that night to talk to her. Also, he lurks around her house to keep an eye out for Cersei. Which may seem like overkill, but if you think so, you've never seen Cersei. She's barely restrained by their father's insistence that they not go hunting the citizens of the town and causing a veritable uproar like last time;

Brienne agrees to talk to him, barely. Jaime begs her not to tell anyone about his Deepest Darkest Secret (vampire). Brienne is like, "Wait, you thought I was going to believe that bullshit?" Jaime is flabbergasted. Of course she would believe him. He's a vampire. Surely, she doesn't think mere mortal men are capable of being as handsome as he!!!!;

Jaime, in a desperate bid to keep her wary, explains about Cersei and why he's so scared (SHE'S A SERIAL KILLER, Y'ALL). Brienne gets hung up on them dating for years, "you dated your SISTER?" "She's not my sister." "You've lived as siblings!" "YOU ARE GETTING HUNG UP ON UNIMPORTANT DETAILS HERE!" "I think it's very important you dated your sister for centuries." "So you believe I've been alive for centuries." "I believe that YOU somehow believe that.";

Brienne is the single most infuriating person he's ever had the misfortune to meet;

Jaime convinces Brienne to meet him in the woods that weekend. He zooms around and jumps into trees to prove himself. She's still a little like, "Welp, this is the worst." Then he picks her up, because, somehow, he feels this is the best show of Vampire!strength and jumps into a tree with her. Brienne is displeased;

Brienne is all, "Fine fine, I believe you're a vampire. But why the hell are you telling ME this??" "Because Cersei wants to KILL you and I don't know how long Tywin can prevent it." "Why would she want to kill me????" "Because she knows I'm into you." "...into me like I'm your favorite flavor of ice cream?" "No. Well, yes. You smell ... I don't want to ... you'll... Look, yes that too, but also you know...I'm into you." "I don't understand. Is this another stupid vampire thing?" "OH MY GOD. WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS? INTO YOU LIKE I WANT TO MAKE OUT WITH YOU." ".............."

Then he kisses her. She jerks away and stares at him. He tries to kiss her again. "If this is all a weirdly elaborate ploy to murder me and drink my blood, just do it instead of this...this --" "What? No. I can't make out with you if you're dead. Well, I could turn you --" Brienne looks TERRIFIED. "But I don't think you'd be happy about that and probably wouldn't make out with me, so I won't do that either." "So you -- you just want to kiss me?" "Well, yes. Also lick you a little. But without teeth! And I'll be careful with the hickeys."

That's how Brienne finds herself dating a teenage vampire and avoiding his murderous sister. Her life is fucking weird and her dad really thinks Jaime is just the strangest boy he's ever met, especially when Jaime says he's "courting" Brienne like it's the goddamn 19th century. But Selwyn seems to think he's not dangerous (WRONG), and that he likes Brienne a lot (RIGHT), so it's fine. Just. The kid is weird, Brienne.

After a short time of dating bliss, Cersei loses her goddamn mind and attacks Brienne and basically tries to rip out her jugular. Jaime stops her and kills her (VALONQAR, MOTHERFUCKERS). He wants to eat the fuck out of B, but stops himself and instead manages to press his handkerchief ("REALLY, Jaime? Really? Are you a hundred years old?" "438, actually." "I hate you." He smiles.) to the wounds on her neck. They look like the bear wounds from the book;

Brienne threatens to set him on fire if he ever even thinks about turning her while she's still in high school. Maybe ever. She hasn't decided yet. But she's gotta stick around for her dad. So if she doesn't dump him (which she should, by all rights, but he's...charming in his own terrible way), he's just going to have to deal with dating an older woman.

Jaime is fine with this. He would gladly date her when she's 80. Let the humans go fuck themselves. Other than Brienne. He would like to fuck her, eventually. When she's ready.

okay fine it’s a twilight au. fuck off.

[skyeliu]

Hidden Side

Hidden Side

Pairing: BTS x Y/N

Genre: Cute, fluffy, short.

au’s: STILL IDOL, secret relationship(insecurity), life at home, living together.

Warnings: Family Friendly Kids Friendly, PG13.

Common Plot: You start dating, but it remains a secret since they are still top idols in Korea. He rents an apartment just one floor below their dorm under your name, so he can make his daily visit.

Jin x Y/N

Possession

Jin never occurred to you as the possessive type before you start dating. He has always presented himself as the silly member who has a horrible sense of humor in front of the camera. However, after he asked you out and got the apartment one floor below, he has shown a hidden side of his...

“Where were you last night?”

“Were you looking at the guy across the hallway? “

...

“Who are you talking to?”

“JIN.”

You finally get tired of all the questions, and snapped at the dinner table when he “calls you out” while you are merely texting your friend back.

Jin finally realizes he has been overly attentive on your business. He rubs his temples in frustration and apologizes gently.

“I’m sorry baby. It’s just...”

“What?” You are still a little angry at him, and nothing would help more than a reasonable explanation.

“You are mine... Just because not that many people know doesn’t change the fact that,” he pauses a little, stares straight into your eyes: “you are mine.”

You are not the only one insecure about the relationship, but that is the moment when you know:

He is yours, and you are his.

Yoongi x Y/N

Overly Physical

You never thought there’d be a day you can hold Min Yoongi’s hand walking Min Holly with him. But it happened, so naturally.

Not much changed, he’s still a quiet workaholic who forgets your dates and falls asleep in the studio all the time.

Most people would feel pretty insecure at this point, but not you, because you know a lot of the time, it’s the little things that matter.

You know that as long as you are around, part of Yoongi’s attention is always on you. When he is not doing anything with his hands, he always grabs yours and hold them tightly.

Unlike him, you talk a lot, mostly meaningless bits and pieces that happened, and when you are going on and on with your small talks, he always leans towards you and listens closely while playing with your hair unintentionally.

Yoongi isn’t a big hugger, but definitely a kisser. Little pecks that fall on your cheeks and necks, deep kisses when nobody is looking.

He really gets overly physical and clingy with you.

And you love it.

Hoseok x Y/N

Cooking

Hoseok isn’t that good at cooking, plus with Jin living with him upstairs and the managers feeding them with nutritious food, he really didn’t have much to worry about. But once he realized you have been living on takeouts and cupped noodles, he insisted to come downstairs and cook for you when he is available.

You are actually a really good cook, you just get lazy and don’t see the point of cooking only for one.

You didn’t reveal your secret cooking skill at first, because you thought it was just gonna be a half-hearted passion of his that will go away soon. Besides, it’s truly heartwarming to see him take care of you in his own way.

But after he kept running downstairs almost everyday for a month or so, you realized he’s taking this seriously. So you begin shopping for groceries, and you start to cook. Now instead of facing a mess in the kitchen, Hoseok sees a well-cooked three-course meal with you at the table.

Cooking then became one of your favorite activities with him, you like it the most when he hugs you from behind and drops some gentle pecks on the back of you neck.

He knows you always felt insecure about this secret relationship, so he might not be the best cook, but definitely the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.

Namjoon x Y/N

Pictures

Although Namjoon and you can’t post anything publicly about this secret relationship, but he really likes carrying his cameras with him when you go on a date.

You don’t think you are a great photographer, but he gets so happy when you take a picture of him and often time the pictures you take end up on the BTS official Twitter.

He takes a lot of pictures of you when you are not paying attention. He’d pick out the best ones and pick the best filters to put over them before he proudly presents them to you.

The two of you created a private Instagram account with a default profile photo, that only has you and him as followers. All the couple pictures went on the page so you can refer back on them when you want to.

Your personal favorite-

is the one you took at a little classy restaurant out of the city.

His face is surrounded by warm lights,

and you can see your reflection so clearly in his eyes.

Jimin x Y/N

Matching

Jimin really likes shopping with you, although you have to keep a safe distance from him for confidentiality. It frustrates him a lot that he can’t even hold your hands outside the building, but that’s the closest you can get to a normal couple’s date.

The part he loves the most is always the couple section where they sell matching clothes and matching items like plushies and keychains. Jimin really can’t get tired of them, and he makes sure you put them on, too.

You always leave something personal on the matching stuff the two of you get, such as sewing your initials on the inside of the shirt. In return, he keeps the stuff you get with him for a couple of weeks before returning them to you with “part of him on it”.

As a public figure who gets photographed a lot, all the matching items quickly become a trend, a lot of fans are buying the matching ones to couple up with their idol, so to most people, you are just another crazy Jimin stan that gets whatever he gets.

Only you and he know how special they are.

And that is good enough.

Taehyung x Y/N

Gifts

You don’t know what’s going on in Taehyung’s mind 75% of the time, and it actually hit you with a surprise when he confessed he developed a crush on you.

He is indeed a very clingy boyfriend. You even hear the members jokingly complain the amount of time he’s spending with you is making them jealous.

You work at BigHit in the sound department, so basically a couple floors above where their dance practice rooms are. So unavoidably, Taehyung runs upstairs just to stay with you all the time to the point even Pang PD had to have a serious conversation with him about it.

Now that he’s not allowed to spend time with you at the company anymore, he turns to making you small gifts when he’s on a break from work.

It didn’t take long for him to fill your workplace full of the silly stuff he gave you such as a small ugly wool felt doll he made apparently “based on your image.”

You honestly love these little things so much. You know neither you and Taehyung are the crafty type, he might have the guts to go for it anyways, but you’d rather play safe and do what you are best at. So you start writing short songs for him and made a compilation of all the clips of you singing for him as his surprise birthday gift this year.

He turned silent right when the clips start playing on the TV, and when you turn around to check, you see him tearing up and quietly sobbing before showering you with soft kisses on your forehead and cheeks.

He only asks for so little, all you did was to show the minimal amount of your affection to him, and now you are his entire world.

Jungkook x Y/N

Vocal

Before you start dating, you always thought Jungkook is the quiet and shy type. It is partially true, and it used to frustrate you that he’d never look you in the eyes.

You’ve had a crush on Jungkook for forever, but you never thought it’d actually work out, so all you did was doing the most that was appropriate for you to do and keeping your distance.

His confession hit you with a surprise, and once you said yes, he got a lot more vocal than he ever was.

He’s still too shy to be cute with you in front of others, but when there are just the two of you, he would constantly ask you to call his names and say you love him.

You don’t mind, and you have been a pretty expressive person anyways, so you’d always kiss him good morning and goodbye, tell him how glad you are that now you are with him.

You know how much insecurity Jungkook feels since their relationship has to stay low-key for a really really long time, because you feel the same.

You figured that the most you can provide him is reassuring how much you love him over and over, because as the youngest member of the group, he already has enough on his shoulder.

One day he visited you right after he got out from practice, which is quite unusual for Jungkook, he usually prefers washing up and resting a bit before coming downstairs, but this one day in particular, he just showed up at your door rather early on that rainy evening.

He eagerly puts his arms around you the moment after you open the door, you could smell the rain and feel the water dripping from the tip of his hair.

You gently pat on his back: “Jungkook, you are gonna catch a cold, come in and change. ”

He didn’t say anything in response, just buried his head deeper in your neck.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you so much. I know I suck at expressing it, and I’m demanding and I….”He is stuttering on his words, and when you turn your head a little, you can just see how red his ears are.

“You are the most precious person, and the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Check my masterlist for more!!

[genoshaisforlovers]

Reproductive health has become one of the major political topics of our time and I see many feminists, usually referred to as "white feminists" and "TERFs" who are bewildered at the fact that old men don't understand how ridiculous it seems that they are making life and death impacting laws over specific body parts that they don't even have.

I understand the logic behind this but let me explain how these kinds of things work

If you have a uterus can get your period try to imagine you don't. You don't have to try to imagine you have penis, simply try to imagine if you only about menstruation as well as the average guy and then imagine if someone explained it to you

For one week every month your hormone levels will drop causing the lining of one of your organs to be shed and for that entire week it will come out of your genitals along with a constant flow of blood. Sometimes working lining sticks together in a blood clot and you are constantly passing them at different sizes. Gross but it actually seems much harder when you factor in the effect hormones and blood loss has on someone. Cramping, headaches, nausea, diarrhea, anemia, insomnia, and those are just the most common symptoms people have.

And as soon as it stops your body heals itself in the best way I possibly can for you to give birth to a child and if you don't get pregnant be doing it again next month. Adding to the frustration is has physically you also live in a world where people judge you as abnormal to a point that it will limit how successful you'll be in every aspect of your life. It's so shameful that you do everything you possibly can to hide it from everyone.

You hide your tampons, freak out over a little bit of blood on your pants, make it look like blue Gatorade on commercials so most people grow up thinking all those pads were for people who were incontinent.

Yes, it would be great if we had equality but we don't. For whatever reasons the people who can grow a working penis are in charge. You simply have to try harder. And from most men's perspectives actually have a little bit of involuntary privilege already because menstruation is kept in whispers and it's created a culture where because women are looked down upon because of things like having a uterus people pamper them. Women have an excuse to get out of anything and the only way to prove it to a man would be to put the two of you in a sexual situation. Life is generally easier for women because they may have to pay for tampons and whatever else their insurance doesn't cover but they are constantly getting free meals and there'll always be some guy willing to give her anything else she needs. Not that that's okay; that women shouldn't depend on living off of gifts from men even if we all agree on that there's nothing to do about it right this second. Men get more jobs so they can support themselves and the females in their life. Society can't just simply stop until things are figured out and wait for the right people to be in office, it would hurt women as much as men.

I know that this is probably a little hard to admit to but at least to admit to yourself, you can understand how men could feel the way they do and simply be unable to understand everything. You can understand because it's exactly the same way you feel toward disabled people.

Right?

You don't not like disabled people. You know disabled people, some in your family, you broke a leg and spent one summer in a wheelchair so you get it. In fact, you have allergies or "a bit of OCD." Of course you don't know what it's like to be in a disabled body but it's not completely foreign and not even all disabled people are the same so even if you are disabled you can't claim to know what everyone's problems are.

It's not like disabled people have to keep their disability hidden. Everyone knows that there are disabled people and aside from a few crazy people everyone usually tries to help them. People have to use wheelchairs or something obviously have no way to keep that hidden and that sucks but there are also a lot of disabled people who have things you can't see, like their disability is invisible, so they never have to worry about hiding anything because no one's going to really know how much they are suffering just by looking at them. Besides, you know what pain is and we are all human so no one can insist that you couldn't comprehend it because people are people and pain is pain.

And society already does a lot to help disabled people. There is legislation protecting them which was created by people who had no idea what they were talking about, kind of like with abortion legislation, but that legislation is changed all the time even if the only people who get to change it are more people that have no experience with the it.

And they get to stay home. They get to choose not work. They get to have privileges like their own bathroom stall and we all know how comfortable everyone is with who uses which toilet. They even get their own parking spaces but the spaces are right in the front and if anything happened more than often someone would see and do something because it's not like they live in a world cultured by bigotry toward people whose bodies don't work the right way.

And, and, they do get things for free unlike the free things men give women. They can get free meals without feeling degraded and it must be relatively easy to get these males and then shortly people would get at least one for each day of the week. And the lives of disabled people are important so there are definitely a lot of checks and balances in place to keep all this going smoothly. And people are doing it; I'm sure someone in my city is doing it. Housing is also free and it should go just as easily as the meals. Disabled people can get money for rent or free rent in a group home which normal people pay for. It's the normal people of all genders and sexualities to equally support disabled people who were born into a world where society simply wasn't structured to accommodate people like them. Disabled people do get paid less, like literally as low as $0.22 an hour in America, but they also have to work less and of course it would be impossible to live off of such little money and work more, you would never break even let alone survive. So it's like disabled people are all required to be completely dependent on normal people was that they want to or not.  And there's nothing to feel ashamed for for feeling normal; normal is just simply regular, it just means like, the average. Like the degree that society deems acceptable.

Oh, and, not everyone is born disabled. A lot of people aren't disabled until they are adults, and there's not many people living with genetic mutations resulting in disability because they all die pretty quickly which isn't so bad because it's really just putting them out of their misery. It honestly must feel like kind of a relief to the people around when they do die, having to take care of someone like that is really sad. Sometimes families do some horrible things but it can't be that many more disabled children that are murdered in Third World countries like England. Obviously there are some people that aren't going to want to have a disabled child or friend or partner but everyone loves their children and their nice people like you out there and no one has sexual hangups on prevailing social bigotry so it's completely fine.

Don't forget they also get really great healthcare like in Canada or Australia which you don't know all the particulars about, even if you are Canadian or Australian because who really looks into the laws affecting people that aren't like them? And it may be just normal people who have ever been in charge of or changed those laws but people are better than they used to be. People aren't that ignorant or hateful. No one would ignore like, and entire genocide of disabled people aside from the one that happened last year in yet another Third World country, Japan.

And since we are on dark things let me mention everyone has to deal with violence and rape, it can't possibly be that much worse for anyone who is disabled let alone GSM. Bigotry toward disabled people is not so embedded in our culture that assault and rape statistics would be in the 80–90s regardless of whether the person was white or not or a man or not. And you are sure it's not so much of a problem that given how ingrained this bigotry is that the only social identify they can identity as is disabled, that such a low bar with their race, their gender, their sexuality; nothing could be piled on that could make their likelihood of a happy life let alone survive any worse. But they could be so disassociated in society that disabled people (or is it people with disabilities? I can't remember if so whatever) are not seen as human. That raping a disabled person was the legal equivalent to having sex with an animal in some American states

things really aren't that bad unless you live in a bad place. Like, what? Eugenics is still illegal anywhere normal. It was only until three years ago that it became illegal to forcibly sterilize prisoners in California

BTW, your cities pride parade was handicap accessible because you saw handicap so they could obviously get in somehow and if they could get in they could obviously get in and do everything else

BTW part 2, your tweet or post about how not at the women's March, a trump protest, BLM event, wasn't meant for them. It wasn't meant for disabled people. When I didn't mention disability or disabled people I wasn't saying that they deserve what they get, I'm just saying that this particular thing you said wasn't about them. Unless you specifically say it's about them then nothing is about them. It is going to be dealt with, separately. Surely there must be someone helping anyway, who wouldn't help them? More people will help but they are busy with issues that they are a little more familiar about because

like that ugly is an incredibly ableist term given that disabled people had to wear a sign around her neck that said "ugly" because to acknowledge that means you would have to stop saying normal words, words you didn't even know were offensive and that everyone says them and you haven't heard anyone complain about before. It would be inconvenient. Not that disabled people are an inconvenience, this isn't about them. None of this is about them.

One more thing: I get irony but also satire

[p-artsypants]

Nine Lives (8) The Home

FF.net | Ao3

Chat Noir snuck into Master’s Fu’s home after his patrol. It was only 10pm, but the lights were off and Fu was fast asleep, snoring away.

Adrien dropped his transformation in the backroom by his little homework table, and opened his laptop.

“Cheese?” Plagg asked, hopeful.

“Oh, right, sorry.” Adrien winced and dug around in his backpack. “There’s only one wheel left. So don’t eat it all until we can get more tomorrow.”

Plagg groaned, but begrudgingly agreed, if only for his own benefit.

Adrien got to work on his homework. He had an essay due tomorrow that he was sorely behind on. He would have finished it earlier, but other matters took precedence.

“Pretty good speech you gave,” Plagg smirked, sitting on the top of his laptop. “Really got the media off your back there.”

“It was just a thank you speech for the mayor. I had to, there was no way I wasn’t going thank him. It’s a 1000 euros a month.”

“As long as you keep up with patrols and akumas.”

“Well yeah, obviously.”

“I can see why people would be protesting you.”

“They aren’t protesting me specifically. They just don’t want me to get paid.”

“Yeah, they want you to save their lives for free.”

“And you see how silly that is? You were the one who said I should turn Chat Noir into a living.”

“I did, didn’t I? Interesting...”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why do you think they’re protesting?”

“Well, in their eyes, Ladybug and Chat Noir allowed a citizen to be killed. And now they want money?”

Adrien frowned and leaned back against the wall. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Obviously.”

“Well, it’s a done deal. Paris will get over it eventually.”

“What does Ladybug think about it?”

“She doesn’t mind. She said if I need money, it made sense to ask for help. Fighting the Akuma is hard work.”

“Was she jealous?”

“I offered to split the check, but she turned it down.”

Speaking of checks, he pulled out the one Mayor Bourgeois had given him. Thankfully, it wasn’t a giant check like the ones they gave at sweepstakes. But it was clearly from the mayor, and the memo line read ‘To Chat Noir.’ So what was he supposed to do? Open a new bank account as his alter ego and then transfer money to his normal account? He rubbed his head. Secret Identities sucked!

“Ladybug is just too noble to accept money for her hard work.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Or, it could be that she lives at home with her parents, and she gets an allowance?”

“Please, what teenager passes up the opportunity for money?”

“The kind that recognizes that their friend needs help, now will you drop it? I have an essay to write.”

“Fine, if you won’t admit your guilt, then you can just suffer.”

Adrien groaned. Plagg, being his Kwami, had a tendency to pick at his nerves just so, and pick up on the emotions he wanted to ignore. “I keep lying to her. And if there’s anything I remember about Volpina, it’s that Marinette hates liars.” He was quiet a moment and thought back to that day. “I think I understand why she was angry though. Lila flirting with me, and lying about an affiliation with Ladybug to do it. Hmm, that makes sense.”

Plagg cleared his throat. “And?”

“And...I’m scared. I keep lying to her, but I know when this bubble bursts, it’s going to be ugly.”

“You don’t think she’ll understand?”

Adrien sighed. “I...if it were me, and Marinette faked her death to continue being Ladybug, and she didn’t confide in Chat Noir...I might feel betrayed.”

“If the situation was like that, then why would she confide in you? She’s the one who has been insistent on secret identities. Even after you found her out.”

“But this is an exception Plagg! I faked my death! That’s not something to hide from your partner! Not if you trust them…”

“But you did, and now you have to deal with it.”

Adrien frowned, falling silent. Then, “I thought you were thousands of years old. I thought you were supposed to unleash divine wisdom upon me.”

“You want wisdom? Fine. Wait. Like Master Fu said about the molten glass. You saw her bedroom walls. Eventually, she’ll move on from Adrien. Not totally, ever. But enough that it doesn’t sting anymore. That’s when you should tell her.”

“How long will that take?”

“Who knows. A few months? Weeks? Years? I know it took me three years to grieve the loss of my love.”

Adrien softened. “Your love? I didn’t know you were in love once.”

“Yeah, a real beauty. An aged cheddar packed in charred whiskey barrels. It sounds so simple, but the place that made it burned to the ground in the 1500’s. It was awful.”

Adrien scoffed. “Why did expect anything else…?”

“But now Camembert is my true love. I think I might love it more than I loved that whiskey cheddar.”

Adrien leaned his head on his knuckles, just listening to his kwami.

“The thing is, until I lost that Whiskey cheddar, I never would have loved Camembert. You following me?”

“Wait, are you saying that now Adrien’s out of the way, she’ll start loving Chat Noir?”

“No, I’m saying she’ll start to love you.”

“But—“

“New wisdom!” Plagg interrupted and zipped out of the room, startling Adrien for a moment. He returned a moment later, with a necklace in his grasp.

“This is my mom’s necklace?” He raised his eyebrow. It was simple, despite the wealth the Agreste’s had. His mother had once told him this was the first necklace Gabriel gave her when they got married. Just a thin chain and a pear cut diamond.

“These little flat parts are called facets.” Plagg explained.

“I know, I’m not five.”

Plagg hissed, perturbed to be interrupted during his ‘wisdom’.

“Uh, sorry, please continue.”

“Thank you. Each facet is cut very particularly to reflect light, and the gem looks different from each facet.” He dangled the jewel in front of the desk lamp, sending a bunch of sparkles across the table surface. “Adrien was one of your facets, but it wasn’t you. Your father made sure that Adrien was just what everyone wanted to see. Chat Noir is just a facet as well, a part of you that is constantly filled with adrenaline and confidence. Emile…now the name is different, but he’s the most you you’ve been. The boy sitting in front of me is the gem. Ladybug has to see past the facets to see you.”

Adrien stared at his kwami, and then at the necklace. After a beat, he put it on, hiding it under his shirt. “I didn’t know you knew so much about diamonds. I thought your expertise was only in cheese.”

“Cats like shiny things, silly boy.” Plagg stated, matter of factly. “Now I’m all wisdom-ed out. Hit me up in another ten years, and I’ll have another cheese analogy for you.”

Adrien scratched the kwami between the ears, his soft spot, and quiet purring filled the space. “You’re my best friend Plagg, you know that right?”

“Yeah yeah, you know how I feel about mushy stuff.”

“Oh, I know.” Adrien smirked. “But I just thought I’d remind you.”

“So I might as well remind you about your essay.”

“My essay!”

—

The next day, a bleary-eyed Emile walked to school. It wasn’t the first time walking, but everyday was as strange as the first. As Adrien, he’d never been allowed to walk anywhere alone. Though, he was honest enough to admit getting a ride to school in the mornings was nice. But he was beginning to enjoy his walks, as sleepy as he was.

He stopped at a cafe, and bought two coffees. One for him, and one for Marinette. It was a small gesture, one that he hoped was not too bizarre for Emile.

Emile would be stepping up his game. Chat would try to refrain from visiting her every night, despite knowing who she was. Because more than anything, Adrien wanted her to love him for who he was. It had been wonderful knowing that she loved Adrien for the gem shining through, so to speak, and not just the pretty face in the posters. But there was even more to him than that. A goofy, fun-loving, dramatic side to him that she was missing out on.

He entered the classroom a few minutes before class started, delighted to see his angel was there already, with eyes half closed.

“Good morning Marinette,” he chirped happily. “Do you like coffee?”

She blinked up at him in surprise. “I…do on occasion.”

“Would a free cup from a friend be an occasion?” He set the cardboard cup in front of her, watching with glee as her eyes widened and her mouth formed a very kissable ‘o’.

She smiled at him. “I will gladly accept your coffee! Thank you! I’m actually having a hard time staying awake this morning.”

He slid his backpack onto his seat and then sat on his desk, facing towards her, a very improper action, if he did say so himself. “I’m the same way! I’m such a night owl it’s a disaster. I used to wake up really early.” For photo shoots. “But now I can barely manage to make it to school on time.”

Alya leaned over the desk and mock whispered. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but I think you and Marinette are soulmates.”

“Alya!” Marinette flushed madly.

Emile just laughed, loudly, and without restraint. A very Chat Noir-esque trait.

Marinette’s face flushed a little more as she observed him.

“Oh please, it’s only been like two weeks since you showed up, and you already have a crush on the baker girl? Please, get behind all the other loser boys in this school.” Chloe spoke clearly, apparently ready to take Emile down. She hadn’t succeeded yet, since he seemed impervious to her ‘perfection’.

Emile turned his, literally, award winning smile to her and sang, “Jealous?”

Chloe sneered. “Ugh! As if I’d ever want you to like me, Quasimodo!”

“Reverse psychology, classic. Maybe someday you will win my heart, Chloe Bourgeois.”

Chloe scoffed again and turned her head with a little ‘hmph!’

“Uh...Emile?” Marinette asked shyly.

“Hmm?”

She was speaking quietly, so he had to lean in the hear her. “I...do you remember when we talked about Adrien? The boy who...”

He quickly stopped her from having to say it. “Yes, I remember.”

“Well, I...I kind of...really liked him. And since the whole...” she trailed off, her face pink, but her eyes downcast.

“I totally understand.” He smiled at her, softly, encouragingly. “It’s not really a crush, despite what Chloe thinks. I do think you’re cute, but I just want to be your friend. If that’s okay? You seem like a really nice person. Especially if what Master Fu said about you is true.” Another lie, but he felt justified in this case.

Her blush returned, with a horrified look to match. But she quickly covered it with a stutter. “No! I—sure! Yes! That’s great! Friends! You can’t have enough friends! Heh?” She bared her teeth in an attempted smile, as Alya whispered, “smooth...”

“Um,” she tried again, “I actually have a favor...”

“Shoot!”

“My dad threw his back out yesterday, and we’re supposed to get a shipment of flour later tonight. Nino and Alya are coming, but would you be willing to help with some heavy lifting?”

Emile grinned, “of course! What time?”

“Just after school. I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

“That’s fine! My schedule is wide open!” And he loved every minute of it.

—

At lunch, the group met at the bakery, which was becoming a tradition. Even if they brought their own food, they still went to Marinette’s to eat. It was convenient, and the Dupain-Cheng household was just too cozy to pass up.

Emile sat at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in his hands, in complete bliss. It was an amazing feeling to be invited out by friends, and not having to deny them.

He almost began to purr.

As Alya was just at the apex of her ‘why Hawkmoth is on Hiatus’ theory, the door opened and Tom came in.

“Hi kids,” he smiled, hiding a wince. The back brace did not go unnoticed by the group.

“You holding in there okay, papa?”

“Your old man is as tough as nails. But once I get some ibuprofen and sit for a bit, I’ll be right as rain.” He fished the pills out of the medicine cabinet. “You kids wouldn’t be willing to help me out later today would you?”

“Marinette already reached out, and we’ll all be there to help!” Alya said, flexing her arm.

Tom laughed in relief. “Thank goodness! I couldn’t imagine my wife and Marinette doing it all by themselves.”

“How long will you be in the brace?” Emile asked.

“Oh the doctor said I have to wear this thing for three weeks, but I have to avoid heavy lifting for six to eight weeks. It’s gonna make things more difficult around here for sure.”

“What if I were to help?” Emile asked, sitting up and smiling.

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Oh, Emile, you don’t have to…”

“Of course I don’t have to, but I want to. You’ve been so nice to invite me along and give me food, it’s the least I could do!” And, he’d get to get in with the in-laws.

“Well,” Tom began. “I really could use the extra help right now. A strong young man! I’ll talk to my wife and see what she thinks. We wouldn’t be able to pay you much.”

“Oh no, you don’t need to pay me...unless it’s with cookies.”

Tom laughed, “alright, then I’ll talk with Sabine and see what she thinks.” And he left.

“Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing.” Alya noted with a smirk.

“Uh, what am I doing?”

“You’re trying to get in with Marinette’s parents!” Oh, she was good.

Emile scoffed, but blushed at the look Marinette was giving him. “You were there this morning. It’s not a crush. It’s just…what friends do, right? I just want to do the right thing.”

Marinette reached over and touched his hand. “Well, you’d really be helping us out. I do appreciate the offer.”

Adrien blushed. Nearly all of his interactions with her as Adrien had been…awkward. To say the least. It wasn’t long before he ‘died’ that she was finally able to talk to him with full sentences. As Ladybug, she flirted with him, and teased him, and acted like a brave older sister. But this look on her face, it was totally new. Full of adoration and gratitude, with just a touch of helplessness. He returned the touch by holding her hand. “It’s not a problem at all. Like I said, I owe you.”

The group finished their meal, and Alya finished her theory on Hawkmoth, before it was time to return to school.

The rest of the day, Marinette kept staring at the back of Emile’s head. Maybe it was Alya’s conspiracy theorist tendencies rubbing off on her. But Marinette could have sworn there was something familiar about him. The blonde hair was strikingly similar to Adrien’s as she had the sunshine gold burned into her retinas after staring at him for two years. But his mannerisms were almost more like Chat Noir. A little dramatic and grandiose. Not quite as much, and not so annoying. And the puns, Emile liked puns and portmanteaus. But thankfully he kept them at a normal amount.

Perhaps she was only seeing what she wanted to see. Emile was sitting in Adrien’s seat, and was taking up the role of second boy in their little quartet. Heavens forbid he actually take Adrien’s place! No, no one could ever do that!

But he just seemed...familiar. Even his voice rang a bell.

He turned around in his seat and gave her a little smirk and a wink, and for half a second, she swore she was looking at Chat Noir.

But the scar convinced her otherwise. Chat had some scarring there too, but not as dramatic.

“Uh, Marinette? You okay? Or are you just stunned by my beauty?”

“Oh, no no. Sorry, I was lost in thought. What did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted to work with me on the worksheet? Nino ditched me for Alya.”

“Oh! Sure we can work together!”

Emile beamed. “Just don’t get lost in my eyes, My Lady.”

Marinette was going to retort, but found her voice dry. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be...

After school, the group returned to the bakery, only to be enthusiastically greeted by Tom and Sabine.

“There’s our hard workers! Ready to haul ass?”

“Thomas! Language!” Sabine chortled as she elbowed her husband. “There will be snacks waiting for you after the work is done!”

Since the Dupain-Cheng’s had the extra help, they took advantage of them by not only unloading the delivery of sugar, chocolate, flour and other ingredients, but also doing some heavy cleaning in the bakery. This included moving entire displays out of the way to mop under them. All the windows and glass casings were washed and all the metal was polished.

Three hours later, everything was in its place and the bakery sparkled.

“Wow! It looks great!” Marinette chirped with pride. “Thanks for all your help guys!”

“No problem,” Nino grinned. “Now about those snacks…”

They all hustled upstairs and gathered in the kitchen. Laughter took place, as it resided with the Dupain-Cheng’s. It was a close friend with Alya and Nino, and an old friend of Adrien’s. What he wouldn’t give to have this everyday of his life.

“Emile?” Sabine asked, after a lull in conversation.

“Oh, yes?”

“Tom said you offered to help us during his recovery period.”

“That’s right,” he rambled. “I don’t have very much baking experience, but I’m available whenever I’m not in school. I can even get up early in the morning.”

The parents grinned at each other, before Sabine continued. “Well, I wouldn’t feel right about taking you on if we couldn’t pay you.”

“Oh no, that’s fine! I don’t need any money…but I’m like a cat, if you feed me, I’ll keep coming back!”

“Well, I was going to say…” Sabine continued her knowing grin. “We have a spare room, if you’d like to stay with us. We’ll pay you in room and board.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. He couldn’t possibly be that lucky, could he? Maybe it was because he was with Ladybug at the moment, maybe her luck was rubbing off on him. Or maybe it was her lucky charm in his back pocket.

“So, how about it, roomie?” Marinette nudged his arm.

“Yes! 100% yes! I was even—living with Master Fu is nice and all, but I have to share a room at his place. I was trying to save up some money for an apartment—“ He ran a hand through his hair, partly in shock, but mostly in joy. “I don’t know what to say! Thank you!”

“There are two conditions.” Sabine interrupted, her voice deadly serious.

“Yes, of course.” Adrien sobered.

“Number one, you have to keep up with your homework. School comes first. And number two…you have to join us for dinner and movie nights.”

Adrien’s eyes widened as he looked at the smiling family. “I…” he choked.

“What, is that going to be a problem?” Tom nudged him.

“No, not a problem at all.” And everyone, including Adrien, was wholly unprepared for the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

“Emile?” Marinette asked, a careful hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry…I just…this is all I ever wanted. To…be a part of a family.” He wiped his cheek. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

--

Later that night, Emile returned to the bakery with all his earthly possessions in tow. A big duffel bag, which held all his clothes, a backpack, and a smaller duffel for the fragments of his old life. 

“Welp, here I am! Emile Fu, bakery gremlin.” He grinned. 

Marinette had been the one to greet him at the door. “Bakery gremlin, huh?”

He hunched over slightly and spoke in a voice akin to Igor. “At your service, my lady.” 

She laughed heartily, a wonderful song to his ears. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

It was across the stairway from the bakery. A small room, about the size of a college dorm. There was a little closet, a bed, and a table with a little lamp and two chairs. The walls were painted a soft blue, and there was a window with an alley view, just big enough for Chat Noir to fit through. 

“It’s not much, but you can have it all to yourself.” She grinned. “The door locks, and the bathroom is directly above you.” 

“Thanks Marinette, this is awesome.” 

“No, thank you. My parents were actually really stressed about trying to figure out what to do. My dad can still bake, but there’s a lot of heavy lifting prep work, and deliveries. You’re their hero.” 

Adrien smiled at that. A hero in more ways than one. “I wondered. If it’s just your family running the place, then I assumed there would be trouble without your dad being able to lift. I’m really glad I could help.” 

“Then, I’ll let you get settled in. Mom and dad are working on dinner. Do you like quiche?” 

“Love it,” he beamed. 

Though she said she would leave him be, she found a question on the tip of her tongue, and so she leaned against the doorframe and watched him unpack. He took his, frankly atrocious, clothes out of his duffel bag and laid them on the bed. 

“Are you going to keep watching me? Or are you going to help?” He teased.

“O-oh, yeah, I can—“

“I’m just kidding Marinette, you don’t have to help. There’s not much to put away.” 

She blushed and knotted her fingers together.

“But you do look like you have something to say.” 

Might as well get it over with. She thought. She glanced behind her, checking to see that the coast was clear. “Um…you—do you know who I am?” 

He continued folding his clothes, not even looking at her. “Do I know that you’re Ladybug? Yes. I thought that was fairly obvious.” 

Marinette turned slightly and rested her forehead on the doorframe with a groan. 

“But don’t worry, I know it’s a secret.” 

“Why do you know?” 

It was time for another lie. “Well, Master Fu is 180-something, but he’s not immortal.” 

Now that he thought about it, that was a problem. He might need to ask the old man about doing some extra training. 

“Do you know who Chat Noir is?”

“Of course,” he answered easily. “Probably the coolest person on earth.” 

She barked a laugh, “now you’re just messing with me.” 

“I am not! That guy is too hot to trot! He’s purr-fection.” 

“Ugh, and you sound just like him.” She rolled her eyes. “So,” she continued, nervously. “I have to ask. Who are you trying to be friends with?”

He smiled softly at her, and then fished out the necklace from around his neck. “These flat parts are called facets.” 

“Right.”

“And each facet is cut very specifically to reflect light. And looking at each facet differently changes the appearance of the gem. Ladybug is one of your facets, and so is Marinette. I want to be friends with the whole gem.” 

He hadn’t realized how close they had gotten until he looked up from the diamond. Her big blue eyes were glistening, just like the jewel. A light dusting of pink sat upon her nose, as she stared up at him. 

God, she was beautiful. And she had been there all along. Just a little bit further and…

She stepped back, tucking some hair behind her ear. “Thanks…that means a lot.” 

He managed a smile in return, though his stomach was twisting. “Of course.” 

“I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.” And she all but shut the door in his face. 

He sighed. One day, and hopefully soon, he’d tell her the truth, and they’d finally be together.  

Plagg floated up to his face, a sneer on his face. “You rotten thief.”

[falleninandoutoflove]

Warning Signs of Abuse:

-Pushing for quick involvement: Comes on strong, claiming, “I’ve never felt this loved like this by anyone.” -Jealousy: Excessively possessive, calls/texts constantly or visits unexpectedly; prevents you from going to work because “you might meet someone.” -Controlling Behavior: Interrogate you intensely (especially if you’re late) about whom you talked to and where you were; permission to do anything.  -Monitoring your whereabouts: They want to know where you are all the time and insist that you respond to calls or texts immediately. -Unrealistic expectations: Expects you to be the perfect mate and meet his or her every need. -Lecturing: Belaboring your errors with long monologues makes it clear they think you’re beneath them. -Denying something you know is true: An abuser will deny that an argument or even an agreement took place. This is calling gaslighting. It’s meant to make you question your own memory and sanity. -Using guilt: They might say something like, “You owe me this. Look at all I’ve done for you,” in an attempt to get their way. -Isolation: Tries to cut you off from family and friends; accuses people who support you of “causing trouble.” -Blames others for problems or mistakes/blames the entire failure of previous relationships on his/her former partner: It’s always someone else’s fault when anything goes wrong. “My ex was totally crazy.” -Hypersensitivity: Is easily insulted, claiming hurt feelings when he or she is really mad.  -Cruelty to animals or children: Kills or punishes animals brutally. Also, may expect children to do things that are far beyond their ability. (Whips a 3 year old for wetting a diaper) or may tease them until they cry. -Verbal Abuse: Constantly criticizes or says blatantly cruel, hurtful things, degrades, curses, calls you ugly names. -Rigid Roles: Expects you to serve, obey and remain at home. -Sudden mood swings: Switches from sweet to violent in minutes. -Controlling behaviors using social media or technology: “Let me see your phone. You don’t really love me if you wont let me see it.” “I have to make sure you’re not talking to anyone else or cheating.” -Yelling: Yelling, screaming, and swearing are meant to intimidate and make you feel small and inconsequential.  -Indifference: They see you hurt or crying and do nothing. -Withholding affection: They won’t touch you, not even to hold your hand or pat you on the shoulder. They may refuse sexual relations to punish you or to get you to do something. -Actively working to turn others against you: They’ll tell co-workers, friends, and even your family that you’re unstable and prone to hysterics.

What to do:

If you’re being mentally and emotionally abused, trust your instincts. Know that it isn’t right and you don’t have to live this way. 

If you aren’t in immediate danger and you need to talk or find someplace to go, call the National Domestic Abuse Hotline at 800-799-7233. 

Here’s what you can do:

-Accept that the abuse isn’t your responsibility: Don’t try to reason with your abuser. You may want to help, but it’s unlikely they’ll break this pattern of behavior without professional counseling. That’s their responsibility.  -Disengage and set personal boundaries: Decide that you wont respond to abuse or get sucked into arguments. Stick to it. Limit exposure to the abuser as much as you can.  -Exit the relationship or circumstance: If possible, cut all ties. Make it clear that it’s over and don’t look back. You might also want to find a therapist who can show you a healthy way to move forward. -Give yourself time to heal: Reach out to supportive friends and family members. If you’re in school, talk to a teacher or guidance counselor. If you think it will help, find a therapist who can help you in your recovery. 

[the-formerone]

Prompt #28 or 37 gaara/naruto.

37. “You seem somewhat familiar. Have I threatened you before?”

28. “Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.”

Naruto is only about ninety percent sure he’s worked on a job with this guy before. He’s got sharp red hair, which isn’t all too uncommon to Naruto, considering his mom and his cousins, and his eyes are blue, which isn’t weird considering Naruto and his dad. But he does have a face tattoo and no eyebrows. Which would make a person stand out, y’know?

The trouble is, Naruto sees all kinds of freaky shit on the day to day that some redhead with a face tattoo wearing heavy eyeliner isn’t really the strangest thing he’s ever seen in his life. Which sucks because he’s got the vaguest sense that he knows this guy from somewhere. 

It wouldn’t bother him so much if the guy didn’t clean up so well. He somehow manages to pull off wearing a purple suit, something that not even Sasuke can do, and Naruto has seen him try. 

This Gaara guy manages to look completely disheveled and untrustworthy (the hair, the face tattoo, the complete and utter lack of eyebrows) and simultaneously like an entire goddamn snack platter and it is a magic that Naruto does not even remotely understand. 

He’s gorgeous. Drop dead gorgeous. A quarter in a pocketful of dimes. Naruto isn’t sure what he did to get Konan’s favor for her to send him out on an assignment like this while Sakura and Hinata were out somewhere extorting millions from investment bankers too cocky to cover their tracks. Even Sasuke was stuck on a bodyguard detail. 

But Naruto got to wear a fancy suit and dance damn near glued to this guy. There’s no time to ask who he’s affiliated with or why Konan took out a contract with his employer. This isn’t really the place to ask anyway. Naruto’s just there to be arm candy, really, to be a distraction for Deidara’s coming shenanigans. Once he and Obito got things rolling, all Naruto had to do was slip out the back and hop into the van, switch places with Hidan so he could offer some extra muscle support, and wake up Shikamaru in case he was asleep at the monitors. Which he usually was. 

But he kind of wants to ask. Because Naruto never forgets a face. He gets used to odd looking ones, like Hidan’s freaky religious face paint, and Kakuzu’s eyes. But he doesn’t forget faces. And there’s something about this Gaara guy’s that he’s sure he knows from somewhere. 

“You seem somewhat familiar,” Gaara says. And his voice is all low rumble, quiet and raspy like he’s smoked all his life or like he shouted himself hoarse as a kid. That’s why Naruto’s got his own rasp, or at least that’s what his parents tell him. 

Naruto’s about to open his mouth, bat his blond eyelashes, and say something coy enough to trap this guy into bed when Gaara continues with, “Have I threatened you before?”

Naruto blinks. Because that - that isn’t really a barometer for assessing interpersonal relationships, is it? Is it? It probably was for Sasuke. And Obito, too for that matter. And Deidara. And pretty much all of the people Naruto’s grown up with. With the exception of nearly all the women he had ever known, who were more likely to go ahead and hurt you without going through the trouble of threatening that they were going to do it. 

“I - I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure,” Naruto stammers. “Though you may know one of my associates?”

Gaara hums, his gentle hold on the small of Naruto’s back neither increasing or decreasing with the question. 

“I don’t think so,” Gaara murmurs. “I know your eyes.”

And that’s the kind of thing that only guys in Ino’s trashy romance novels say. Not that Naruto would know. He’s never read them. Not even in high school. 

“You may have seen me in the brief before you came out for this job,” Naruto offers, carefully circumventing any mention of the very illegal activity he is about to partake in. He’s wired for his safety, and he knows that Shikamaru won’t cover for him if he says too much. 

“I did,” Gaara agrees. “I insisted on taking my brother’s place on this operation because I thought I knew you.”

From the corner of his eye, Naruto can see Obito, dressed as a waiter move across the room like he’s hunting something. He gives Naruto an imperceptible nod; two minutes until it was time. 

“Did you go to boarding school as a child?” 

Naruto blinks his gaze back to Gaara, surprised and not a little concerned. 

His parents were freedom fighters. They had been in jail almost as long as Naruto had been alive. When his mom got caught first, his dad put him with his godfather Jiraiya. Then when his father got caught, Jiraiya put him in boarding school. The visits to his parents in prison were few and far between, but Naruto has always known it was only going to be a matter of time before it all worked out. 

This job was one of many on the road to making that happen. His folks may still be behind bars, but the Yellow Flash and the Hot-Blooded Habanero hadn’t been as defanged as the feds hoped they were. 

“I went to one,” Gaara muses, voice soft. “In Ame. Where all unfortunate children are sent, so they say.”

It also happened to be where Akatsuki was based. And it was where the children of fighters like Naruto’s parents were sent when things got ugly at home. Naruto had already been out of his hometown before he was sent to Ame. Itachi had to smuggle Sasuke out of Konoha. Neji’s father had sent him before he was executed.

“I don’t know how my mother would feel about me saying it,” Naruto says with a chuckle, “but for a time, I was an unfortunate child.”

There was no aging out of the system, not really. You stayed for as long as you needed to. Akatsuki had started originally as a kind of daycare service, protecting the children of radicals as a service to the radicals themselves. It was only when the first generations of those children had gotten older that Akatsuki transformed into what it was today. 

Upstart brats like Naruto and his friends, ones that wanted to change the world that kept trying to kill their parents. 

Gaara leans in close, until they are dancing cheek to cheek. He’s arm against Naruto’s face, still leading them across the dance floor.

“I used to carry around a brown teddy bear,” Gaara says. “I never went anywhere without it.”

And the memory splits itself open before Naruto’s eyes. A small red haired boy, constantly watched over by a hawkish older brother and sister. His sad blue eyes, how he would call for his mother, for his father. And the teddy bear. 

“A black haired boy got tomato paste on it, and a blue eyed boy helped me clean it up.”

In Naruto’s ear there’s the sound of three sharp clicks, which is Shikamaru’s signal that it’s time to get to work. He desperately wants to ignore it in favor of the strange and wonderful man in front of him, who used to be a strange and terrified child. 

“I -,”

“Excuse me,” Naruto says, loathe to interrupt him. 

Gaara pulls back slowly so that he can look Naruto in the face when he speaks again. The intensity in his gaze isn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it’s only sincere. 

“Yes?” 

“I have to go cause a scene,” Naruto says sheepishly. “But I would like to talk to you again, if I can.” 

Gaara nods, at once understanding the situation. 

“I’ll ask my Tessen to speak to your Angel,” he replies, “to see if we could arrange a meeting under less … strenuous circumstances.”

Naruto beams at him, and Gaara’s intense expression softens somewhat. 

“I’d like that. Now if you’ll excuse me?”

He drops his hand off Gaara’s shoulder and moves to take his hand back from his, but Gaara doesn’t let go. 

“What kind of scene exactly do you need to cause?”

Naruto lifts an eyebrow. He’s very good at making distractions, and in the business of being obnoxious, two is always better than one. 

“Can you fake a heart attack?” 

Gaara tilts his head to the left. 

“No,” he replies. “But my older sister is epileptic, so I know the warning signs of a seizure.” 

Naruto lets out a low whistle, and guides his new partner to the center of the dance floor. 

“Alright, Mr. Uzumaki,” he says. “You’re my husband, if anyone asks.”

Gaara cracks a smile. 

“I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

Naruto gives Gaara’s hand a light squeeze, and he hopes that the rest of the guys won’t mind the extra in the van on their getaway ride.

[2fast2furiousofficial]

cw: ??? Paranoia, parents, down talk, uh suicide and death comes up, it’s A Lot? Oh specific mention of Cancer. I’m suddenly exhausted and struggling to tag. Also, typos. Read this @ ur own risk, there’s a disclaimer inside re: that and if you mention this post to me I’ll be upset. Especially as I’m going to try and forget I made myself internet-vulnerable by posting it. G’night tumblr.

My like, negative monologue and paranoia found their way back to me with strenght instead of being mostly hushed whispers instead of weird moments or almost more like, speaking in faint images, vague feelings - they weren’t real and sharp and present and it’s been to the point where until recently with the flare up i was pretty soundly thinking some of my diagnosis must be wrong or i was weirdly in super recovery, and if everything felt like, still off, weird? That’s just real life? If BPD like goes away, somehow, magically, I would just feel less.

Everything would be. Less.

Also it’s just weird because I’m comparing all my friendships and shit to my ex who was my FP and close friend and then gf and then ex but like keyword in some of that if FP so everything was more constant and intense so no wonder other friendships don’t match it, fuck, will other romantic relationships?

Like I’m still not bothered too much, I am ultimately okay with being single I think but also like.

I dunno!

But like friends. friends friends friends.

I’m struggling what to do with any of all of them and if you’re a friend I talk to with any goddamn regularity see your way out of this tumblr post. Or like proceed at ur own risk I’m not trying to @ any of y’all I’m just like. verbalizing (textualizing? sure. whatever!) my paranoia and struggles in Friendship TM rn so like please either don’t read this or don’t make it weird because it’s not you it’s me 

God god like i I just can’t find the fucking balance and I think it’s partly because I am constantly bouncing between trying to invest more (too much) into friendships or isolating, or not having the energy, or trying to do both, or all three, I need so badly to be liked but also why thr fuck do you all like me

I’m fake, I’ve got so much imposter syndrome I can’t fucking see straight. Some of my friends think I’m cool and kind of goth??? Think I don’t like people (oh shit), that I’m like, tough, but I’m a fucking goddamn powder puff who is constantly on the verge or crying or emptiness or undesired anger which i then feel guilty about and channel into anger at myself. I hate myself so much that it’s normal, that until something pushes it it can kind of just become background noise and isn’t that sad? Isn’t that sad. I act and say that I don’t, insist I’m cooler and better and sometimes think I do but it’s because I feel so goddamn bad about myself but I know that won’t make me more likeable, saying it won’t make things good, just makes things back and awkward so I have to like fumbling try and like myself or at least fake it.

I’m not cool. I’m fat and ugly and broke and can’t keep a job or do anything right or get my shit together even if i’m goddamn trying.

I try and forget my mother so that missing her will stop. I can’t miss her if I forget her. She won’t exist to forget. I won’t think about her, so I won’t have to miss her, even if every fucking cell in my body carries her, from her genetics and everything that entails (death, mostly, likely from colon cancer) to her finger prints on my brain neurons (my mental illnesses aren’t something to lay at her grave and blame her for but her finger prints and markers are in all of them, I am my mother in so many ways I hoped I wouldn’t be).

I try and forget my father so I won’t miss him either. He’s just a disappointment or a hurt when he’s around, just something else to feel bad about (I can’t make him happy, i’m too gay, too fat, too much like my mother, too much like the sister he’s always abused and treated wrong). He’s not worth the energy.

I try to just... put on a face and exist minimally around my family because they aren’t perfect but they try and do a lot and I love them and I will never be truly one of my aunt and uncles children, a sibling to my cousins, my uncle won’t just give me casual affectionate contact and i’m too hold and don’t have the history to crawl into my aunts bed and just cry with her about how awful and broken I feel and they love me so much even if I’m not quite these things so why isn’t it fucking enough?

my ex is an essay i don’t want to do because every time i fucking reach some further progress and closure i lose it and I hate it, I hate it, I hate how part of me still aches and misses her but do I miss her or just the idea of her, what she represented?

That someone could love me, that someone could get me?

But like. Ha, the more you know me, the less you know me, right?

I think it’s a lot like that.

Everyone leaves eventually.

Like my friends, fuck, like everyone is good and fine and I’m the goddamn problem ultimately?

Because my brain just cooks shit up like

Don’t respond to them.

? I’m tired so I will later but-

Don’t, all they do is x. They only talk to you about x. When have they talked to you about anything else, they don’t deserve you, they only want want you can do for them and don’t actually care about you, fuck them, fuck this, this always happens--

or well shit you can be more attentive and still just get same shit different angle,

You now y is just using you to ease their own loneliness and depression.

I am 99% that’s like most human interaction, we’re all supposed to try and help one another-

They don’t actually LIKE you, not really, they don’t know you and how garbage you really are. They wouldn’t like that Logan. They’ll go when you stop being useful, stop being enough, the first time you mess up, and you will, you try so hard, so goddamn hard but you will

I want someone to like the garbage parts of me but also I don’t, because, I can’t even like those parts, why the fuck should they, why, why, people will go if I show those parts or want me to change them and I want to change them too but also some shit doesn’t change and some shit is just me, maybe some of this isn’t just garabage or stuff to learn or unlearn, some part sof me just suck, though who even knows which ones, which parts are real, because i’m so fucking fake you can poke holes through me, at least half of my happiness is even fake but if I don’t at least try and fake it it won’t exist and people won’t want tp interact and i’ll be a drain and i can’t have that, I can’t stand owing people or being a burden even if that’s all I ever do, i don’t understand human interaction and friendships and i hate how i can’t disappear - a few weeks or months - and come back without it being a thing, but also i want people to worry, not to Worry but to give a shit but also WHY SHOULD THEY and I expend all this energy on friendships but sometimes I’m not sure why, if i even want them, but i also know i need friends and like friends and am a friendly person and just

i hate. this. Being so many different pieces and conflicting feelins and reactions and i just want to start over. I want to die and have another playthrough. I want to run away and cut ties with everyone and just... live a different life.

Guess I’m actively suicidal again for the first time in awhile. That’s sort of new.

I think I’m finally tired. I’m... going to post this and try and forget I did.

It will feel like too much of a backstep to just delete it, but I can’t edit this either.

if you read this: none of this is @ or about you, again, this is my bullshit brain and me struggling. You’re good friends, some of you are even wonderful friends, I do. Love you. As much as I can love anyone. Which is a lot sometimes, and other times it’s.

Not? I dunno. I’m broken, I don’t know what to tell you.

Also like don’t talk to me about it because I can’t handle that and will very seriously get mad. 

i’m going to sleep.

[ylove-bandaesthetics]

Meet My Little Lad! (Louis Tomlinson Imagine)

Requested by Anonymous! ✨

I can feel them, I can feel them as if they are physically touching me…. Those radiant, gorgeous, breath taking sea green eyes staring straight into my soul, and causing my heart to skip a thousand beats so many times I’m pretty damn surprised that I haven’t passed out. You know up to this day it feels like I have been stuck inside the most beautiful and longest dream ever, a dream that I always pray to God with hope that it will never end, I always ask him to let me keep this dream…to never let me wake up because I don’t want to wake up. But then God himself has to constantly remind me that this isn’t a dream, this is reality.

You know over the years when you devote your love to a band that’s literally known all around the world because of their sweet, goofy personalities and music, with their billions and billions of fans continuosly screaming their names and listening to their songs every single day, being in a real relationship with one of them would never in a million years cross my mind. Cause now here I am, sitting across from Louis Tomlinson a.k.a my first real love. No I’m just saying that because of who he is, so you can save your ridiculous comments that I see flooding on my social media every damn day. I’m honestly saying it because of who he is with me, usually people view him as this very sassy person, which okay, he can be, because he’s brutually honest and is really not afraid to say how he’s feeling or give his opinion about you to your face, but with me he’s so gentle and caring, he treats me like a queen, not materialistically, but emotionally and physcially. Even though he insists on showering me with the most expensive things in the world, I make it clear to him that I love him and not what’s in his wallet, and he’s more than enough for me.

Of course almost every one of his fans think it’s bullshit but lord knows that I’m not lying when I say that, and so does my man. Up to this day I just can’t believe he’s all mine, I don’t even know how it came to be this way between him and I, but I guess the heavens wanted us together, because somehow him and I always managed to cross paths no matter how far away we would be from each other and how long we stayed without keeping in touch. We always ran into each other unexpected until we finally decided to stick together, get to know one another a little better and fall in love. The feeling of those lovely eyes on my physical being got to me again, I couldn’t help but release a giggle. “Stop.” Was all I managed to say in mid laughter, my eyes staying locked on the menu I was holding up. “I won’t until you look at me too.” My heart started beating a thousand beats per minute when his hand reached over and took a hold of mine, his thumb gently stroking my soft victoria’s secret lotioned skin.

“Babyyyy…” I heard him whine as he saw me just sink in my seat further down so my that face was completely hidden behind the menu. “You are so mean! Look at me!” He adorably exclaimed, man that accent of his kills me with the feels everytime, it’s just so attractive just like the rest of him of course, it’s music to my ears. I finally gave in and plopped the menu flat on the polished wood. At this point I think my cheeks is pretty much as red as a hot cheetoe. My eyes landed on his sweet face, and I laughed loudly when I saw him looking all grumpy with an adorable pout. “Awwwwww don’t be mad at me honey!” I squealed, reaching over to pinch one of his cheeks and wiggle his head side to side. “You’re so cute!”

When the compliment left my lips, a smile slowly made it’s appearance, he tried to fight it at first but he knew he couldn’t resist blushing himself whenever I was sweet to him. “Awwww there’s my bae.” I cooed, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Shut uuup….” He playfully whined, looking away from me for a moment to hide his redness. “Louis come on don’t look away.” “Hurts doesn’t it?” Louis smirked. “Aw come on you know I love you.” I beamed. “I know baby. I love you more.” He promised, bringing my held hand closer to him and pressing his lips to my knuckles, giving me light but sweet kisses. Must this boy always cause me to have major butterflies form in my tummy? But then again if your boyfriend doesn’t make you feel that way then he’s doing something wrong.

“Seen anything you want to eat yet?” I asked. “Besides you? No not really.” “Louis!” I whisper screamed, looking around to make sure that nobody heard us. “What? It’s true, you taste fucking good to me. That’s why I woke you up the way I did this morning.” He reminded me with a wink. I felt the eyes of a couple in the table beside us glancing right when he said that. I chuckled and shook my head, like I said, he’s not afraid to say what’s on his mind, ever. He took a look at them and shrugged… “Hehe, like if they don’t do it either.” “You’re crazy.” “For you yes.” Louis smiled, right when I was about to return the sweet statement, the waitor came to take our orders, we started off with some wine and then Louis decided to order a tea with milk and no sugar, and for some reason I was craving coffee so I went ahead with that, then came our food. As always we had a funny, romantic, with a mix of dirty talk type of conversation the rest of the evening, we didn’t even realize how much time had gone by and how many people had left until a different waitor came up to us saying that they were about to close.

With that being said we gathered up our things, I offered to pay for dinner this time but of course Louis protested and payed, insisting that I as a woman, especially because I’m with him, will never pay for a thing. There is no winning with him when it comes to the check my goodness. After that we headed out to the parking lot of the restaraunt with our fingers intertwined together, kisses being shared every now and then. Thankfully the paps were nowhere to be found tonight, I seriously don’t think I can ever really get used to the million of flashes blinding the hell out of me, the last time I’ve faced that I pretty much fainted, but before that I had a slight panic attack because they wouldn’t stop bombarding me with questions about my relationship with Louis, not to mention they wouldn’t let me pass through until I gave them answers. It was truly one of the scariest things I’ve been through. But ever since then Louis has been very protective of me and made sure none of them ever bothered me again.

I shook off that ugly memory and happily wrapped my arms around his neck once we reached his car. He seemed a little surprised by my sudden action but he played along and held on firmly to my waist, pulling me closer so that there was absolutely no space between us. I just had a huge craving for his lips, tonight now more than ever, I don’t know if it’s because we finally had some privacy while being out in public for the first since we officially became boyfriend and girlfriend, but the night sky was especially beautiful and the feeling was just right.

“You’re staring at mi lips an awful lot you little bugger.” He softly spoke, playfully poking my nose while still holding me. I slightly laughed and nodded while humming a low and seductive “Mhmmm.” As well as my bottom lip being sucked in and bitten down on. Without another word, my head reached up and connected my lips to his, kissing him nice and slowly at first, his smooth lips treating mine as if they were fragile but little by little deepening into them more, until eventually his tongue was begging for entrance into my mouth. I placed a light hand on his cheek, my thumb smoothly stroking his scruffiness while my other played with his hair, gently tugging the ends of it while I granted him that entrance. At this point I felt like we were gonna have sex right here and now in the parking lot, or better yet the backseat of his car. I know that he was getting just as turned on as I am, I could hear his low groans, and the occasional “Mmmmm baby.” which truthfully was making my breasts twitch more for him. I want his body in mine but one thing is for damn sure, we can’t do it out here.

With much hesitation I knew I had to lean away, but it was mission impossible cause Louis wouldn’t allow me to at first, he kept pulling me back… “Lou…baby…” I called out in between our hot and heavy make out session. “Don’t…stop now precious…” He begged mid kissing as well. “Mmm…” I hummed, and somehow I managed to break it up, both of us desperately trying to catch our breaths as we just stood there in the same position. I can tell that a wave of dissapointment washed through him, believe me I didn’t want to stop either but I wasn’t about to do a live porno show for the whole world to see, besides who knows if those dreadful paps were hiding somewhere taking low flash pics of us right now.

I got my back off of being pressed against the coldess of the car door and touched his hard chest that was still going up and down with huffs releasing themselves from him…. “Listen, I’m sorry I killed our little sexy moment but that doesn’t mean it was to completely end…” I say, hoping to lighten his mood up again. His thick brows raised up high, along with another sexy smirk making it’s presence be known once more… “What are you saying my love?” “I’m saying that we should get our asses in this car, drive home and well…pick up where we left off. You made me pretty damn hot for you mister.” I proudly confessed, I was even more proud of his reaction, it was like he wasn’t expecting me to say that last part, but hey if he can dirty talk me most of the time I can sure as hell do the same.

He grinned, I don’t know how but he manages to make himself appear more angelic when he’s smiling, it makes me so happy. Louis gave me one last little peck on my forehead and walked me over to my side of the  vehicle, opening my door like the gentlemen he is. “Mi'lady.” He says, smacking my butt as I went in. “Thank you kind sir.” I chuckled.

Moments later, as soon as the two of us set foot into our shared home, I squealed as he randomly picked me up off the floor, carrying me briday style as he shut the door behind him and ran upstairs to our bedroom. He gently laid me on the silky sheets, the softness of them caressing the skin of my body ever so smoothly while Louis hovered himself over me, his hands pressing the material on either side of my head, causing me to sink just a bit. He took a moment to really scrutinize me, his expression going softer and softer, I can feel it in my heart, the way he looks at me with all the love in the world. “Why must you be so beautiful?…” He whispered. “Funny, I could ask you the exact same question….” I also whispered, my hand reaching up to touch his scruffy face one more time.

Louis turned his head slightly to kiss the palm of my hand… “You know I love you right (Y/N)?…I wouldn’t trade you for any other women in the whole world…please tell me you know that?…” “I know sweetheart…I know….I feel the same, you’re just the sweetest angel and just when I was starting to give up on men you come into my life…I still don’t understand how you fell for me…just an ordinary directioner…” I replied, laughing a bit at the end. “(Y/N) believe me, I can go on FOREVER telling you what made me fall so hard in love and become head over heels for you. But right now I want to show you better than talk about my love for you if that’s okay?…” He asked nicely. This is another thing that I really adore about him, he always asks permission before getting physical, literally no matter how hard and how much his dick throbs, he would make sure that I’m on board with him making love to me.

“Of course…” I muttered with a slow nodd, while also pulling down the zipper of my crop top halfway to expose more of my clevelage… “You bloody tease…” He chuckled, then his eyes rolled up a bit to my tied hair, taking the liberty to remove the small band that was keeping it in a stylish ponytail. My hair was now spread on the sheets causing his smile to be even bigger, the next thing I knew I felt the warmth of his breath bring goosebumps to rise upon the skin of my neck. “I hope you don’t mind that I did that precious, I know it took you hours to style it that way but I much prefer it down…..it makes you look like a goddess.” Before I could respond to that, I felt how his skillfull lips began to dance upon my neck in the perfect rhythym, right when he got to my sweet spot using the tip of his warm tongue ro slide across it, the only word that came out of me was…. “Aaaaahhh….”

I heard the sound of my top’s zipper, feeling the way the fabric opened up to reveal my strapless lace bra. We were getting so heated, our inner thighs and private parts burning up and aching for each other to be connected, especially mine as I was covering his now bare and tatted chest in kisses, right on his number 78 tattoo. But something unexpected happend, right as he was about to unclip my bra and allow my breasts to be free, his cell phone rang in his pocket. Louis huffed and lowly growled in frustration, I admit I was feeling the same, we were just getting to the good part. “You know what, they can wait.” He assured, continuing to do my body right, putting his hands all over me, but then his fucking phone rang again.

We both grunted furiously, who the hell could be calling him so much at this hour?… “Just answer your phone babe…” I sighed. While still hovering over me he took his phone out and checked the caller ID. “The hell?…” He said with furrowed brows. “Who is it?” I asked curiously. “It’s Briana.” Louis replied, getting off and sitting himself next to me. Briana, that’s right, you guessed it, the mother of Louis’ baby boy, I remember meeting her for the first time last year…didn’t really go so well let me tell you. She instantely felt the need to be bitchy towards me just because I’m with her ex. I guess in a way I can’t blame her, I mean why would the old girlfriend want to meet the new girlfriend? But at the same time I approached her in a friendly manner. Anyway, the point is she doesn’t like me, in fact she talks shit about me to my boyfriend sometimes, one day she was accusing him of spending more time with me than with their son, and that it seemed like he was putting me before Freddie, which is so not true, Louis has made it clear that his boy is first before anybody else in his life, and of course I completely agree because that’s the way it should be, I’m not gonna be one of those girlfriends who demand to be number one either. Overall, I have no hate towards Briana, none whats so ever I promise.

Louis sighed once more as he tapped Briana’s number once more and placed his cell against his ear. I sat up, putting my top back on and scooching closer to rub a gentle hand on the smooth skin of his back. The sound of the other line was kind of loud, so I could pretty much hear what she was saying to him. “Now you answer?” She pressed. “I’m sorry I was in the middle of…something.” He explained. “Yeah more like in the middle of (Y/N).” I pretended like I didn’t hear that, he slightly cringed but shook it off as well… “What is it Briana? Is there something wrong?” “Oh wow did you seriously forget?” She questioned. “Forget what?” “Okay, so you did, you said you were gonna take Freddie for the weekend remember?” Louis developed a confused expression but then his eyes went wide as he recalled… “Oh shit!” “There we go. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you the entire day, I’m leaving to the airport in an hour, our son has been waiting since the morning for you to come and pick him up!”

“Alright! Alright! I screwed up, I’m on my way to get him right now.” He promised. “Okay please hurry, see you in a bit. And tell your girlfriend I said hi cause I know she’s been listening in this whole time.” And with that, she hung up on him. I ran my fingers through my hair and shook my head along with rolling my eyes, thank God my mom taught me how to bite my fucking tongue. “I’m sorry (Y/N)….” Louis muttered while looking down at the floor and burrying his face in his hands.

“What? Why the apology babe?…” “Because you have to deal with Briana’s rude behavior and also having to deal with dating a man with what American’s call “extra baggage”, I could imagine how hard it must feel for you sometimes.“ “Hey now, look at me.” I sternly tell him, lightly but firmly grabbing his fuzzy chin to turn his head to me. “I don’t care about Briana’s bitchy remarks….no matter how much I want to explode on her sometimes but whatever, I don’t care, and your baby is not extra baggage Louis, he’s a blessing. And he’s waiting for his daddy so go get him.”

“You really wouldn’t mind us taking care of him this weekend?” I couldn’t even believe that he was asking me that, babe you idiot…. “You shouldn’t even be asking me that Lou. Of course I don’t mind honey, and besides I never met Freddie before and you know how much I love babies!” I smiled brightly. It’s true, out of this whole time that him and I have been together I have never once met his little bean, well atleast not in person, and now that I have the honor of spending an entire weekend with him, I feel nothing but excitement. Louis grinned too and leaned in to give me a long and passionate peck. “You’re the best (Y/N).” “So are you my love, now go on, no more chatting.” I say, playfully smacking his back to get him moving.

He laughed a little and got off the bed, grabbing his t shirt and slipping it on as he reached in his pocket for his car keys. “Aren’t you comming with me love?” “Hmmmmmmmm.” I hummed with an unsure look upon me, if Briana were to see me she would just take Freddie with her on her little trip and possibly flip the both of us off. “Don’t think so bae, it’s not a good idea.” “Say no more.” He agreed, giving me a final peck on the cheek before dashing out of the house. Meanwhile he was gone, I went downstairs and made myself some tea and ate some chocolate chip cookies I had baked yesterday. Dare I say that I’m a better baker than Harry, haha, I remember he challenged me once, the rest of the lads being the judges, it was such a hilarious day, I will never forget it. Man you just gotta love those guys, they’re like my silly, pretty brothers, and I thank God for getting to know each of them so well.

About an hour later I heard Louis’ car pull up to the driveway. I placed what seemed to be my third cup of tea down on the counter and went to look out the window. Sure enough it was him and by the looks of it he seemed to be struggling carrying all of Freddie’s stuff from the trunk to the house. I giggled and stepped out to give him a hand. “Baby you’re still up? I thought you would be sleeping by now.” “Too excited to sleep, where is he?!” I squealed, making him laugh. “I’ll take him out right now precious I just need to settle his things inside.” I helped him carry and set up everything in the house, it took a while but thankfully we worked quickly. As I was putting the packages of diapers, baby wipes, and bottles away in the kitchen, I heard the sweet sound of my man talking to his son as he came in and finally closed the door.

I glanced back and stared at the beautiful sight in awe. “You have no idea how I’ve missed you little lad, I hope you missed your old man too because we are going to have a lot of fun for the next few days together. How’s the sound? Sound good?” He sweetly spoke as he placed the baby down in his little carrier on the floor. Freddie wasn’t able to be seen though, there was a blanket covering him and the only part of him visible were his little chubby legs that slightly kicked in his navy blue onsie. Even at just the sight of those, my heart melted, I’m already loving the hell out of this kid. Louis glanced at me with a warm smile and squated down to the level of the carrier, waving me over while whispering… “Meet my little lad.”

I quietly took steps over to them and squatted down also, my excitment growing more and more. “Alright he’s sleeping right now so don’t go screaming like a fangirl.” He teased. I playfully rolled my eyes and gestured that my lips were zipped and locked. He slightly laughed once more and kissed my cheek, then came the beautiful moment of him lifting the blanket up to reveal the angelic sleeping chubby wubby baby who was cuddling a tiny elmo plushie, his pacifyer wiggling up and down as he sucked on it. Believe me when I say it took A LOT for me not to squeal, he is even more beautiful in person, I was so used to seeing him in pictures so meeting him was as exciting as meeting another celebrity. My lips were taken in mouth as I frantically fanned myself with my hand, Freddie is just the cutest little bundle of joy I have ever seen. My boyfriend noticed me and almost bursted into a fit of laughter until he stopped himself, yeah yeah I know I looked like a complete dork right now but can you really blame me?

He put his hand over my mouth and sighed with a bored stare that had a hint of a smirk…. “Go ahead.” “MMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!” I squealed into his palm as I also happy clapped my hands together. “God I love you.” Louis chuckled, finally releasing me once I was done. “Oh my goooosh he’s so cuuuute babe.” I complimented, my index finger reaching to carefully caress his tiny hand… “You are so handsome, yes you are.” I softly cooed to him. “Yup, that’s the Tomlinson effect right there.” I smacked his arm and giggled, “Shut up.” “Hehehe, oh, bloody hell I didn’t realize how late it was, come on, let’s take Freddie up to the bedroom.” “I’ll carry him.” I beamed, I can tell in his eyes that he was really touched by how happy I was having him here.

He went ahead and took the blanket completely off and pushed back the hood of the carrier, followed by unbuckling him. “Okay little love, I hope you don’t mind my stranger arms holding you for a moment.” I say to him, placing a hand under his head while lifting his little body up with the other until finally I was cradling him and the two of us stood up from the floor.

“Wow…usually he starts crying when his sleep gets interrupted. Look at you.” Louis praised. “Awwww thank you sweetie.” I responded, we heard something fall and saw that it was the little elmo he was holding. Right then and there Freddie began to stir in my arms, his face scrunching up a bit as if he was about to cry… “Uh oh…” We both said, Louis acted fast and picked up the toy, putting it back in his little hold. We both sighed of relief when he settled down and went back to being soundly asleep. “Guess he can’t live without that red furry bastard.” His daddy pointed out. “Babe don’t make me laugh, he’s gonna wake up, now let’s go.” We all went upstairs, I laid the baby down in the small crib next to our bed, making sure to keep him nice and warm with the blankets. Even though he was asleep Louis sang him a lullabye with that amazing voice of his. Man, you could only imagine the feeling I had inside watching him do that, after that we both said goodnight to him and finally fell asleep ourselves.

Just as I had expected though, Louis and I didn’t really get any sleep throughout the night. Him and I took turns getting up to feed Freddie or change his diaper, get him whatever he needed whenever he woke up and started crying. Louis told me that I didn’t have to be doing all of that and to just let him worry about the baby but I reminded him that I was really happy to have Freddie here with us and that I used to babysit my baby cousins all the time growing up, it was really no problem for me. “Eeeeeeehhh…” I heard the little angel speak up once again. I sat myself up on my elbows and can see his little legs kicking in the crib. I checked the time to see that it was almost 6am, the sun was barely starting to rise up in the sky. At this point Lou was snoring and drueling into his pillow, I didn’t have the heart to wake him up, poor guy was always so tired already.

I leaned down and kissed the back of his head right onto his soft brown hair and got up from the bed. I walked over to the crib and looked down in it with a smile. Freddie immediately stopped kicking once he caught sight of me, his beautiful blue eyes looking back up at me curiously, it caused me to laugh quietly. I guess now that daylight was beginning to shine into the room my face was more visible to him. “Awwww I’m sorry, you’re probably used to seeing your mommy’s face every morning. But  now that you’re fully awake, I can properly introduce myself to you.” I reached down to have him wrap his hand around my fingers which he did, his eyes never leaving mine. “My name is (Y/N), I’m in a really healthy relationship with your daddy. Although you probably much radther have him and your mother together. But overall it’s really nice to meet you Freddie, you sure are a cute little button, you look just like Louis.”

His lips seemed to perk up into a smile at the compliment, like father like son, always blushing whenever a women tells them something sweet. “Awww you even smile like him, tell you what little man, since the two of us can’t sleep anymore how about we go downstairs, I’ll make you a nice warm bottle, maybe give you something like strawberry and banana gerber, and we can just get to know each other a little better, what do you think?” Words cannot explain how shocked I was to see his smile get bigger and his arms shoot up, signaling me to carry him. My heart just about melted completely. I happily reached down fully and took him into my arms, his little hands gripping on my shirt while his chin rested on my shoulder. He seemed to wiggle a little and say some baby gibberish as we passed by Louis… “Sshhhh, daddy’s sleeping sweetheart, we need to let him rest a little, he’ll wake up in a few hours and join us okay?” I whispered, rubbing a loving hand on his back.

Once we got downstairs I decided first thing’s first, give Freddie a warm bath and a change of fresh clothes. After I got all that done and freshened up myself, I put him on his little play mat and surrounded him with a lot of his toys meanwhile I got a small jar of gerber from his baby bag along with a spoon to feed him. “Is the little prince hungry?” I asked, waving the jar in front of him. His face lightened up and he dropped his toy car, reaching for the food. I chuckled and carried him up once again to sit him in his chair, then I opened the jar and dipped the spoon in it. “Look Freddie, here comes the airplaaaane.” I sang, opening my mouth wide so he could open his up. He mimicked me perfectly and ate up all his food without a problem. Now that he was finished with his breakfast it was time for me to make him his bottle. I made sure to keep my on him from the kitchen as he continued to play with his toys and crawl around the soft mat.

I don’t know what time it was at this point but I predict that it wouldn’t be long until Louis notices that I’m not next to him, he always gets mad at me when I do that because he says that everytime he wakes up, the first thing he wants to see is me. Cheesy I know, but hey, no complaints on my end now. Besides I think he would be happier to wake up and see how well me and Freddie have been getting along this whole morning. I walk back over to the baby and I see him slam his toy down. “Haha don’t be grumpy Freddie I got your bottle right here.” He turned his head to look at me and he spoke more gibberish, quickly crawling his way over to me and gripping my pants with a desperate face.

“What’s wrong honey?” I questioned with concern, squatting down and kneeling in front of me. “Aaaah!” He growled, his face getting red as he bounced up and down, oooooh now I see what the problem is. He grabbed a firm hold of my index fingers and growled some more and I jokingly gasped… “Are you pooping mister?” “Eh!! Eh!! Pfffft!!” He replied, making fart noises with his mouth and making it all bubbly as he squeezed more out into his diaper. I couldn’t help but laugh, his pooping face looks like Louis whenever he got really pissed off. Freddie didn’t seem to like it though, in fact he was on the verge of crying… “Awww no no no don’t cry my love I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to laugh, go ahead and finish, I’ll even help you.” I promised, laying him down on his back and grabbing a hold on his legs, remembering the certain trick my cousin taught me to do whenever babies went number 2.

I pushed his knees up, making his legs spread and holding it like that just like nurses would do to a woman while she gave birth. It helps babies release their waste quicker so they wouldn't use so much of their delicate strength. Once he was finished pooping, I assured him that I would be right back with his fresh diaper. I went into the kitchen and ripped open a new pack of pampers, then I went into the downstairs bathroom to grab the wipees. Once again I came back to him, thank God he’s a patient baby, he sure didn’t inherit that from his dad though. I put a towel down and laid him on top, then I took his pants off and opened up his dirty diaper. “Oh my!” I yelled, looking away for a moment while holding my wrist up to my nose. I could hear the little angel laughing at me and I looked back at him with an amused head shake.

“Dang Freddo, the food just went right through you huh?” I say, making him laugh more. I finally got the most difficult task overwith and put a new pair of pants on him seeing as how he pretty much stained the other ones. Now came the best part, when I picked him up and covered him in kisses. “Who’s the happy baby?! Who’s poopy free now? Huh?! That’s right you are!! Yoooou aaaree!!” I cheered, earning myself one of the world’s cutest squeals and laughs. “Awwww I love your laugh sweetheart, does this you like me?” Ever so slowly we locked eyes once more and a small then bigger and bigger smile revealed itself on his adorable face. “I’ll take that as a yes, besides Louis you have made me one of the happiest girls on Earth.” “Mmmmm.” Freddie cooed, chewing on his fist with his smile getting larger if that was possible. Spending this time with him was really beautiful, it just made me look foward to the next days of him being here.

For the next hour or so, Freddie and I were just playing with his toys, and also watching some seasame street on tv. Since his favourite toy was his elmo plushie he loved to cuddle with he would gasp and grin whenever elmo would appear on the screen and I would giggle saying… “Yeah Freddie look, it’s your buddy.” And he would always hug his toy of him everytime, it was so damn cute I couldn’t handle the feels he was giving me.

“Well well well.” We heard a handsome voice with sexy accent behind us say. I turned around to see Louis standing there all fresh and clean with his arms crossed above his chest. “Good morning sleepy head.” I happily greeted. He approached and gave me one of his famous good morning kisses. “You’re cruel precious, you left me alone, I could hardly go back to sleep without you there.” He pouted adorably. “I’m sorry bae, but Freddie woke up and needed some love and care. And you were sleeping so peacefully. Besides Freddie and I are best friends now.” I explained, giving the baby a kiss on top of his head. “Awww my two favourite people.” He stated, sitting next us. “Da da…” Said Freddie and my mouth dropped open, Louis laughed and grabbed him from my lap. “Yea pal! Good morning to you too! I love you!!” He cheered, blowing on his tummy and covering him in kisses as well then sitting him down on his lap this time.

“Did you have a good time with my (Y/N) while I was sleepin?” Freddie didn’t say word, instead he shocked me more by beaming and wiggling his way off his father’s lap and crawling back over to me. I could’ve sworn I had tears of joy going down my face when he did that. Louis was shocked too, so he tested it out one more time and brought him back over to sit on him. But Freddie wiggled himself out and crawled back to me one more time. “Oh my goodness! You sweet little angel. I love you too Freddie!” I tell him, holding him close to me and feeling his little hands touch my face. “Hey, little lad.” Lou called out, the both of us instantely facing him. “She’s MY girlfriend okay?” He joked, pointing at himself. We started cracking up like crazy when the baby made another fart noise with his lips and tongue and looked at my man all grumpy. Aw man like I said before I am loving this kid. But I am even more confident and joyful to say that….

This is going to be the absolute best weekend of my life!

(Sorry for taking a while to write this, work kept getting in the way lol, also just to clarify I in no way have hate towards Briana, I respect her as Freddie’s mother! Have a good day loves!) -YessyLove🌶

[emilylasalle-blog]

My Story.

I guess I should start off by explaining who I am, where I come from, and the whirlwind story that is my Eating Disorder. I should also preface by saying that I have always had a negative relationship with food-- whether it be allergies, anxiety, or my Anorexia. My Eating Disorder has been present my whole life, masking itself and becoming like a chameleon-- taking the face of many different things, Eating disordesr can take the shape of any form. One doesn’t have to have Anorexia to have any “claim” to ED. Know that ED’s range from all different shapes and sizes just like body types, and yours is just as valid as the one next to you. 

Okay, now that I have got that out of the way, I guess I should start at the beginning. For me, that started the day I was born. My mother has an anxiety disorder, and my whole mother’s side of the family is coursing with paranoia, fear, and obsession-- these characteristics have formed me to become the person I am today, flaws and all. So, yeah. I was born. I was also the first child, and definitely the guinea pig, which meant I was the one catching all of the helicopter-parenting. At age three, my mother put me into my first ballet class. Single-handily the best and WORST thing to ever happen to me. Best, because it gave my love of performance and helped me to become the actress that I am today... Bad, because it was the beginning of the end for my Eating Disorder and self-loathing. Ballet is a beautiful and breath-taking art form, however... the ballet world (at least growing up), was insistent on maintaining an abnormally skinny figure. They wanted twigs and if you were anything less, you would get phrases (and I quote) shouted at you such as: “Emily, I don’t want to see that bagel you ate for lunch today...” “Suck in DAMMIT.” “Have you put on weight? I see it in your face.” “You need to be able to fit into this costume.” Yup. Real things shouted at me, while a long stick was smacked onto my stomach and thighs. Absolutely brutal and cruel to be saying things like this to such a young child in the formative years of her life. So, I spent 15 years of my life constantly comparing my body to other girls, never feeling good enough, and constantly looking in the mirror-- I mean heck they were on all sides while I was exposed in a tiny leotard and tights. 

So. Now that we know where my anxiety and OCD stems from, and why I had such negative thoughts drilled into my mind at such a young age, I’ll introduce the FIRST MASK my eating disorder took. SIDEBAR: let me be frank, I had a happy childhood, don’t get me wrong. My family loved me and fed me well, and they told me no when I craved fast food constantly. However, I didn’t have the enforcement for healthy eating that I needed. It was encouraged, but not enforced. So, my picky habits came into fruition. On top of that, I over the course of my short 10 years of life, had developed several food allergies-- deathly allergies-- to the point of having a significant number of shots a year. Food was scary. I was scared-- scared of everything in my later years of elementary school. My mom had drilled a significant number of scary thoughts in my head about food and my allergies. Don’t trust anyone, don’t eat without labels, check everything twice. It was my default state- anxiety. This is the first mask. I was scared to eat anything, even foods that I had eaten my whole life. I would ask my parents over and over again about whether or not I would have gone into anaphylactic shock already as I ate at meal-time. And I HATED meal time. I would create these psycho theories in my head about how my food could have cross contaminated in absolutely ridiculous ways. This mask was scary-- this mask could quite literally KILL me with one bite of egg, peanuts, tree nuts, coconuts, or sesame seeds. 

Which brings me to middle school, where my anxiety was peaked at an all-time high. Not only was I petrified of food due to my food allergies, but I grew (due to events in my childhood) to have an IRRATIONAL fear of vomiting. And I mean, I would go days without eating for fear that the food would somehow cause me to throw up. I would eat dinner at 2pm to make sure I was “fully digested” before going to bed. I would call my mom crying, asking to be picked up because my anxiety had spiked so high and kids were pretending to throw up and be sick around me to watch me cry, It was a sick and traumatic three years (6th-8th.) I was so utterly and insanely scared of food. I had these insane scenarios built up in my head about food being able to “come alive” inside of me and chew me from the inside out. I had theories that all food was not FDA approved, and I would ACTUALLY call the companies to double check if it had been. So, I started to see Dr. G, my therapist of 12+ years, and a special doctor to help me gain weight (as I was like 70 pounds at MOST.) DR. G focused in childhood and familial therapy, and she saved my life. I was so hyper-fearful of everything. I couldn't eat without the huge fear of the risk of death, sickness, or worst of all... vomiting. So, that's tier number three. The second masked form my ED took on. Illness. 

Which brings me to my last tier. I have grown up hating putting food into my body, for various reasons. But it wasn't until end of senior year the seed I had always had planted in my mind (ED) really began to sneak his way into my life. The first two years of high school were marvelous, I was gaining my womanhood (that's period), meeting new friends, finding my sexual awakening (thank you to the drunk guy at my first high school party for so effortlessly slipping your tongue down my throat that fateful sophomore year night), and loving my life. I ate what I wanted , danced in ballet, and didn’t give  FUCK about what other people thought about my body (which is a lie because I always wanted to be skinny and I always compared myself to others). But, as rejection from boys came, jokes about unflattering pictures of me roamed about, and the yearning to look like other people began pressing in, ED began to stick his claws into my psyche. Junior and Senior year were... well, fucking awful. I was extremely depressed, ridden with anxiety, sadness as teenagers I knew in my class died, constantly stressed, and never feeling good enough. I began committing self harm to myself. Was it for attention? Was It a cry for help? I’ll never know. But, I’d cut myself with razor blades. Never super deep, but enough to hurt and bleed. I was able to CONTROL the pain. Control. CONTROL. That is a red flag to remember here, my anxiety and OCD all stems from loving to be in control of my surroundings. I hate feeling at loss. I NEED power. And ED was my sick and twisted form of that. So, I cut myself. And I made the brilliant and amazing mistake of telling my cousin who I adore, and she then proceeded to tell my parents. So, they bust into my room at approximately 11pm on a school night, crying and yelling, demanding that I go back to therapy. THATS RIGHT, BACK. TO DR. G I WENT. And she did help, a lot. Round two, and she still didn’t want to put me on medication, she said it wasn’t good for such young kids and that she wanted me to use my own power and tools within myself to conquer my anxiety and depression. And ya know what, I did. For a while. 

Then I went to COLLEGE!!!! And oh boy, leaving a summer of romance from my high school boyfriend and entering college-- a whole new world of beer, sex, and theatre- I was a new woman. I quit ballet back in high school to focus on my musical theatre career, and I was in HEAVEN. I was cast in all the shows I wanted, I was in LOVE with a new boy at college, and I was making so many new friends. I ate whatever the HELL I wanted, because I was 18, on my own, and FREE! This meant pizza and fries at 2am, this meant buttered bagels for breakfast, microwaved mac and cheese for lunch, McDonalds after acting class, it didn’t stop. But, ED wasn’t gone... he was waiting patiently behind a nearby street corner, lurking, waiting, plotting. He had a plan, and was preparing the perfect attack. I was always his target. So, freshman fifteen happened. Maybe even 20, I don’t know. All I know is that I was at my college “dream-boats” house weighing myself, when I began to panic. ED was slinking back. The number had grown a lot since I weighed myself two semesters ago. I felt, “fat.” It was the first time I admitted to myself that that’s what I thought I was. And it was a nightmare. I was able to brush it off and push the thoughts away, I had a fun summer coming up, friends to see, etc. I managed to focus on the positives, that is... until the end of year banquet. 

When I think about what propelled me into the next three years, which also happen to be the most unhealthy and sick years of my life, I think about this very moment. The end of year banquet. I like I said, was happy and healthy (I HAVE NEVER BEEN OVERWEIGHT. EVER.). I had my senior year prom dress picked out to wear to my first year of college, end-of-year banquet! Sure, my heart was broken from my college dream-boats dumping, my lack of summer theatre jobs, etc.... rejection was written all over me, but I DIDN’T CARE. Not until the dress. I put it on, a size 2-4 dress, that I had fit into snuggly the year before, wouldn’t zip. I panicked, thinking there MUST be something wrong with the zipper... only to have my mom tell me it didn’t fit. This. This exact moment. ED took a HUGE bite out of my soul and dug his fingernails in. He was mine. I remember screaming, crying, tearing my dress up into shreds, and screaming to my mother at the top of my lungs: “I AM SO FAT. I AM AN UGLY COW. I WILL LOSE ALL THIS WEIGHT IN ANY WAY POSSIBLE, I WILL STARVE MYSELF. I WILL NEVER EAT AGAIN. I WANT TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL, I’M SO SKINNY. I’M DONE,”..... my mother was horrified. But, if there’s one thing I’ve always been, its determined. Which brings me to Tier 3. The final mask of ED. 

That summer I worked out like nobody’s business. Sweating outside in the blazing Georgia heat as I ran miles upon miles. I cut myself off from fast-food, I blocked all the asshole boys who dumped me, and I became a health fanatic. And then a friend of mine (who blames themselves, even though they shouldn’t), made the biggest mistake anyone has ever done... they introduced me to MyFitnessPal. The worst thing to ever get into my hands, and to happen to me. I slowly became obsessed with dieting. I began counting calories, comparing myself to her, treating our weight loss as a race (MIND YOU I WAS NOT FAT OR OVERWEIGHT AT ALL. I WAS 130-135 MAX AND 5.7-5.8!!!!!). She went along with it, and then slowly started to realize, that maybe I was taking it a little too seriously and a little far... she then backed out, started to become “worried” about me. Concerned that I wasn’t eating enough and dropping weight rapidly. Friends noticed, my parents noticed, but they all assumed I was just working out and eating healthier. No biggie. I dated a guy briefly at this time, and all I can remember him saying was, “you’re getting kinda skinny... build some muscle, eat protein!” Man if I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that one... So, I continued to diet. I lost weight, but wasn’t deemed “unhealthy.” Just, “skinny.” They nicknamed me Chicken Legs, and... I liked it. I liked being told I was small. It fed ED, and kept him occupied. That is until three hours later when he shamed me for drinking a glass of skim milk, stuff I had been drinking for literally my whole life. So, I did what I always did. I listened to ED, and I cut out milk, cheese, butter (haven't had real butter in four years), potatos, etc. Any food that sparked “joy” I wouldn't eat. I counted my crackers, I measured my cereal, I went to bed hungry. As long as I didn't pass that 1,000 calorie goal. 

The summer after sophomore year was the worst summer of my life. My hatred of rejection mixed with my fear of loss-of control, caused me to do things to my body that  I am not proud of to this day. I was always comparing myself to other girls, checking to see if I was the skinniest girl in the room, and if I wasn’t, I let ED decide what my punishment was. I formed sick habits. I bought a scale, I bought extra small clothing as a form of forcibly maintain a bmi to match my clothing, I ate 0 calorie foods for meals, it got bad. I would weigh myself every day, so many times. Before and after using the rest-room, and I’d buy laxatives to make me shit so that I could see if my weight had gone down. The number that was “too low” continued to be pushed farther. It was scary, and the whole time my heart and soul were fighting ED so hard. It was a full on world war in my brain, fear and anger for letting myself get so unhealthy, and shame and disgust for letting myself get so fat. I wrote notes to myself on mirrors, telling me not to be weak-- to go hungry, you fat cow-- that skinny is the only way I’ll be successful. I’d push food around on my plate at group outings, I’d stuff it in my napkin, If I was starving, I would chew up food and spit it out. Just to get the sensation. I’d measure my arms and wrists with my hands, just to double check that everything fit inside my abnormally small hands. I’d wake up crying, go to bed crying, call my parents crying, because dammit--  I was so hungry, I was so sad, and I was so alone. Except for ED of course, he never left my side. He’s watching me as I write this. 

My parents came to visit me, and the skeleton that faced back at them made them cry. And guess what, BACK TO DR. G I WENT. Everyone was worried about me, and I LOVED it. My best friends mom even had a heart to heart with me about her friend dying of a heart attack because of her Anorexia (God such a daunting word.) I didn’t want to get better, I pretended I did, so that people wouldn’t think I’m gross, but rather some kind of here. Alas, I WANTED to stay 100 pounds. I wanted to stay 99 pounds. I didn't care if it would “send me to the hospital” as my doctor said, I was happy with  watching the number go down. I wanted the number at zero, because I felt like a 0. I felt like nothing. I wanted to be whisked away. My therapist says I allowed myself to get this ED because I seeked self control, she said however, that that’s the last thing I have. ED controls me. So, I took her advice, and we finally put me on anti-depressants. I looked up group-therapy, and I made a “plan” to get better. But deep down I knew I didn’t want to. I was loving the skeleton life so much. Hungry=Strong. And I was the reigning champ. But, school came back around and if there’s one thing I fear more than no control, is failure. And that’s what I was afraid would happen if I didn’t put on some weight... I would lose the leading lady role I had been dreaming about for the past year and all of summer. I didn't, but that fear was in my brain. And quote frankly, why I think Theatre LITERALLY saved my life. 

The medicine helped, theatre helped, and I became happy again. I wasn't the weeping starving skeleton I once was... I was a happy one. My therapist explained to me why it didn’t feel real, and that it very much was. She diagnosed me and that was strange... but that’s another topic. However, I started noticing certain changes on my body. Things that other people didn’t have. Like: all my clothes were too big and falling off of me, I had brittle skin, I was ALWAYS cold (still am), I was always tired and it didn't take much to make me feel weak or out of breath, I even started losing hair. These were all consequences from my anorexia. And people noticed. In negative ways. However, I FELT better, and that's all that mattered to me. I still weighed myself, I still counted calories, I still made sure that if my parents found my scale and hid it, I’d get another one. I was sneaky. And they always say that ED’s are the most clever and manipulating people. And then I was off to summer-stock in Indiana. This was a dream for me, my first professional contract!! And just when I was feeling myself go down a dark path again. This was a miracle for me, I truly thought I wouldn't get a professional contract and was fully prepared to go back down the summer-rabbit hole as I usually do, as I have way too much time to think. But, this was not the case! I packed up my bags and flew to NYC for a trip to see family, and had so much fun I didn't count calories for three days. This was a huge deal for me, and I truly started to feel better. I got to Indiana and the biggest blast began. I made so many incredible friends, who supported me and my issues, I did some awesome theatre (and some shitty theatre lol), and I met my boyfriend at the time. I was happy, I had new people in my life who watched out for me. And I stopped counting calories! I ate more protein, I was doing well. I worked out a lot and attempted to get strong. But I felt my body deteriorating. I got dizzy very easily, I got extremely sick very easily, and I couldn’t keep up my stamina for very long. I also began birth control at this time, as I was in a new relationship and preparing to be sexually active. This changed my body in many ways, which we’ll get to later on. 

However, the summer ended. I moved home, I got back into bad habits, and the comparison and “less-than” feelings returned. However, they got snatched away really fast and here’s why: I had been on my anti-depressants for over a year, and I was way overdue for a checkup at the doctors office. I hadn’t gained any weight, and they noticed my bad habits still being there-- and I hadn't seen my therapist since before I left for Indiana. They did some tests, and I was off. Then I got a call asking me to come back in. Turns out my blood cell count was irregular-- ie: my white blood cells were abnormally low and my red blood cells were enlarged. They believed this was due to vitamin deficiency. What I hadn't told them is I had been feeling heart palpitations for some time now. They drew more blood and ran more tests on me. Alas, I received another phone call telling me that I had to come back in, as my results left them clueless. So. They referred me to an Oncologist. This, was the scariest moment of my life. I had believed it had been vitamin loss, and that it was something I had done to myself-heck I literally was happy that maybe I was so skinny my vitamin levels were lacking. But nope. My boyfriend was amazing during this time, and encouraged me to continue to eat healthy and try new things to get better. During this long waiting period I ate like a normal person. I ate healthy. I stopped counting calories. I was doing better-- but not from a place of health, from a place of fear. That’s not how you heal healthily. I was scared I had cancer. I went to the oncologist’s and was tested for Leukemia. Suddenly, I didn't like feeling this thin. I didn't enjoy being breakable. I wanted to be healthy and strong. I continued with the visits to the Cancer Center. This was three of the hardest months of my life. And the scariest. I had one half of my brain telling me I was fat and needed to not eat anything, and the other half was telling me if I didn't eat, I’d get even sicker. And that I needed to gain weight, to prove I wasn't dying of Leukemia. After all of the blood tests, and the trips to one of the scariest doctors offices I’ve ever been in... we figured out:

I didn’t have cancer. But I realized how stupid I had been for the past ten years of my life. I had been given a TASTE of how scary and haunting being sick can be, and here I was destroying my own body. y healthy body, that people WISHED for. So, I stopped listening to ED, and I moved on. However, this didn't las long. Birth control changed my body. My boobs got bigger, my face filled out, and I noticed small changes. And I began to fall back into bad habits. Limiting foods, cutting calories, I went full vegan, I dumped my boyfriend so I could stop taking birth control, I stopped my medicine (as I didn't want to be mentally healthy anymore, I wanted to be sick so that I could lose weight.). Things got bad again. All the while, still having to go to an Endocrinologist. Since they realized I didn't have cancer, they did tests to realize I had given myself thyroid diseases, blood weakness, frail bones, and heart palpitations. All because I starved myself. But what did that make me? Happy. Happy to be ‘sick” and “skinny”. And that’s MASK 3. 

And here I am today, still struggling. Better, but struggling. I try not to weigh myself anymore (some days I fail, it’s human). I still count my calories, I try to find protein substitutes, but it’s constantly an uphill battle. The calories control my life. I started this journey thinking that it would give me more control, however the exact opposite happen. 

My eating disorder is a sickness. My ED and I are in an abusive relationship with myself and ED. There’s not enough space in my head for this. So here I am today, in therapy, doing everything I can to try and make sense of why I hate my body. 

My therapist says that I have been “screwed from the get go.” I was brought up in the ballet world, with a mother who constantly self deprecates, constant comparison syndrome... Instagram is hard. Life is hard. But I will continue to fight so that I can be successful. 

[chwpromoblog]

BECKETT GUERRERO. college junior; twenty. alberto rosende. OPEN.

and, as bonnie hyper once said:

“Some of these football dicks make their girlfriends come and watch them practice as if it’s interesting.”

BEFORE THE PARTY;

There’s a more obvious line to draw in Beckett’s life — one that delineates before and after — but instead, he’s chopped up into different pieces: before and after the fire. He thought he was normal; he hadn’t even realized his parents found him strange and had no idea what to do with him. He thought he was safe; he had no idea how much malice children could hold in their hearts. This before and after is more poignant and fitting to him, if only because he truly doesn’t remember any piece of his life before he was burned. Well, there is one thing: that morning, he chopped his hair off into an uneven, prickly mess and headed to school in some other bumfuck town in Illinois that wasn’t Rosewood. He’d begged his parents to buy him new clothes just for the occasion. It was meant to be a good day. But the kids at school had other ideas.

At first, he thought the match was a joke. To an extent, the other kids probably did too; they’d just wanted to burn his clothes, but that wasn’t how fire worked. It consumed everything in it’s wake. It wasn’t choosy. So, by the time someone had managed to extinguish the flames, Beckett had fully come into himself, but he had also come into a broken, burnt body. It was odd, to be christened by fire. It didn’t change how he felt; it didn’t eliminate the fact that he’d spent so much time insisting, time and time again, that he wasn’t a girl. It just made being himself that much harder.

The therapists tried to draw out memories from before for a while, but there was a block so impressive in Beckett’s brain. He only wished to speak about the present, informing everyone within earshot of his new name and the truthful life he was meant to lead. It was the only thing he could talk about to keep him from focusing entirely on his reality.

He’d already been so uncomfortable with what he’d been born with, but now he was hideous, his skin patchy and raw and revealing all of the damage he always knew was there for everyone to see. His parents tried to appease him, though they still didn’t quite understand what was going on in his head. He was constantly downtrodden, though, and any good parents would have wanted to help him. And so they attempted, spending exorbitant amounts of cash on experimental procedures to alleviate the ugliness. When that didn’t work, they gave into his pleas to be home-schooled, and, eventually, allowed him to transition fully.

Yet, he went back into the world in his sophomore year of high school feeling anything but improved. He was insecure as ever, hiding under layers of too big clothing. It was easy to keep people from whispering about him; he was at boarding school in a new town where no one knew anything about the boy who’d burned because he’d chosen to be himself.

He kept a considerable distance between himself and the other guys, quietly reading in the corner whenever he needed something to do. Once, a couple of boys from the grade beneath him approached him and insisted that he was just what they needed — that they were different and hated Welton too. They wanted to read the great poets and aim to be extraordinary. But he insisted that he wasn’t like them, that he didn’t hate Welton. And he didn’t. He didn’t really hate anything or anyone. Not even the people who had completely changed the fabric of his life all those years ago. He was just floating above them all, too in his own head to even spend time thinking about other people. That self-absorption had become pure self-deprecation as he nitpicked at himself and all the imperfections he hid.

He hadn’t meant to meet the others, but he knew that the Welton guys wandered out of the dorms at night and hung out at the halfway point between their school and St. Agnes, the school across the way. He’d wanted to get away from the mirror for once — he’d called his parents and for once, they’d refused to pay for surgery, though he insisted that there was fat he needed to suck out from underneath his bones. He was alone when they approached him, and the haze from the beers he’d grabbed from the pile the Welton boys collected had given them a luminous glow. It was Nadine who asked him why he was isolating himself — Nadine, who was inarguably and almost frighteningly gorgeous over the sickness he would later find she held underneath. Her beauty compelled him to answer: he just didn’t want to be with anyone. But they sat with him anyway. And so began a very strange friendship.

They all had their ailments. This much he would come to know. He wasn’t sure why they kept him around, really; it was obvious that he wasn’t entirely honest with them. Sure, he’d told them he was transgender, but that wasn’t really what he was looking to hide. It was the burns. Even in the depths of summer, he wore sweaters by the pool as Reed swam laps and Nadine and Saskia tanned on lawn chairs and flipped through magazines. But they didn’t pester him about it. He was just their quiet, naive Beckett, never quite forthcoming but always ready with comforting words or a small smile — things he never got from anyone other than his parents until he met them. They had this tenuous connection that relied on the fact that they were all outsiders in their own ways — the why didn’t really matter.

So, of course, the revelation of his secret hadn’t been of his own volition. For some reason, Nadine had been sneaking through the Welton showers when she saw him. Later, he would come to understand that she had deliberately sought his secret shame out. But then, Nadine had coddled him and assured him that his burns were nothing to be ashamed of. Being who she was, she promised that she had her ways — that he could be fixed. By graduation, Beckett had made nice with Nadine’s plastic surgeon on several occasions, and all on his so-called best friend’s dime. It wouldn’t ever be enough, but that was the point. His parents called it an addiction. He insisted it was a necessity.

Saskia swore she was a little more clear-headed than he and Reed, who were easily manipulated by Nadine. She’d spent their college years trying to convince them that Nadine was bad news — all the while remaining friends with her, if only to keep a close eye. Even so, she didn’t know the extent of everything, and she had her own issues with Nadine to contend with. She had no idea how she made Beckett yearn for perfection he couldn’t have and made Reed so angry that she couldn’t feel anything else. Neither of them felt comfortable telling Saskia, who had her own vicious streak. So they turned to each other.

They couldn��t stop being Nadine’s puppets — they were inexplicably drawn to her and what she had to offer, whether they liked it or not — but they could make sure that she wasn’t the only one who knew the most important things about themselves. Beckett showed her his scars — from the burns and the surgeries. Reed shared her emotional ones, her insecurities about who she was and how others preyed on it. They loved each other, he knew. But Nadine was obsessive. She was territorial. And she couldn’t just let them be.

DURING THE PARTY;

Every nerve of his was vibrating with anxiety at the thought of finally going on a date with Reed. They'd waited, bided their time, until things had quieted down and they felt Nadine's grasp on them loosen. His body image had improved considerably, and Reed had snapped back to her senses. This was good. They could be good.

Beckett had never been as outwardly pessimistic as Reed, but she provided him with some stiff competition. He managed to feel himself inherit some of her pessimism when his phone vibrated with a text as he was getting ready in a frenzy, his shaky hands unable to properly tie a bowtie.

Laurel is missing.

He had to convince her not to go to Nadine's alone. He had to keep her from scratching the girl's eyes out. For how well Reed had been doing for all this time, it crumbled in an instant, as if the universe was set against them for the entirety of their lives.

When Saskia finally arrived, Beckett took it as an opportunity to grab Reed by the hand and pull her into himself. He couldn't solve this problem for her, but he could do better. He'd always been the most gullible of them all, and so she shoved what little pity he had for Nadine away. If Reed said she did it, she did it.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear. It was a shitty moment to say it for the first time, but Reed needed to hear it. And he needed to hear himself say it. "I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you. I promise."

alternate faceclaims and prompts.

[ltdedngallery-blog]

THE BIG INTERVIEW … KUKULA

(Originally posted November 2015)

AS SOON AS WE SAW KUKULA’S LIMITED EDITION CUP & SAUCER DESIGN, WE WERE IN LOVE! SO WE WERE THRILLED WHEN SHE ALSO CHOSE TO DESIGN FOUR LIMITED EDITION PILLOWS FOR US, BEST OF ALL SHE AGREED TO ANSWER A FEW QUESTIONS…

LTD/EDN…Where does this message find you, and what are you up to (aside from answering our questions) right now?

KUKULA…I’m in my studio starting a new show for AFA Gallery in NYC.

You grew up in Israel, and you’ve moved around America a lot. What’s been your favorite place to live?

Most of my time in the States I’ve lived in the Bay Area of California. I really loved Oakland. The weather was brilliant all the time. Now I’m in New Haven, Connecticut, across the country on the East Coast, where I get to experience lots of culture and it’s very close to NYC. If only the weather was like in Cali it’d be perfect.

Fashion plays a big role in your art and life. You once said: “Who really knows who they are, anyway? Clothes help me decide.” Can you explain what you meant?

No matter how unique and special you think you are, part of your identity always comes from how others perceive you. But we never really know how others perceive us, so we choose a role and dress the part. It’s not that clothes make you, but they allow you to be specific for the occasion.

Fashion is a language and it can speak about our personality and desires—if we choose to share, of course.

Another quote we like: “I milked a cow or two in high school, and yet I insist on walking uncomfortably everywhere I go because it looks better.” What’s the most uncomfortable you’ve ever been for the sake of fashion?

My most uncomfortable: Burrberry platforms. It’s funny, too, because they’re supposed to look like hiking booths.

What’s a fashion trend you wish would come back into style, and what’s one you wish would go away?

Capes and cloaks! I’m constantly on ebay looking for the perfect cape. So far no luck, they are all too Halloweeny or too old and raggedy. I want to cover my self in a lavish hooded velvet cloak all winter long.

I think skulls should go away. I don’t think death and fashion mix.

Does being married to an academic pose any fashion challenges? Maybe you have tips for other people with partners in fashion-challenged vocations?

Yup! My husband asked me to dress like a Puritan for a Yale event. I’m too stubborn to change anything for anyone…especially my clothes. I grew up in a small town and got bullied constantly for my style. Even though it hurt me and depressed me, I kept wearing whatever pleased me.

You shared some Facebook stats that show more than twice as many Women as Men “like” your Facebook page. Yet, Facebook routinely polices your female images. What do you make of this?

FB considers my work to be of a pornographic nature, but as far as I know, women are not really the major porn fans. It’s all very strange—I don’t know what to make of it. Boobs have been in art since forever, even in churches, yet FB randomly blocks them…

Did you ever manage to start an “Art is Not Porn” campaign? Do you think it’s possible to change the minds of the critics?

I haven’t done a concerted campaign but I made a hashtag (#artisnotporn). I’m not sure it’s doing anything. Some people might change their minds, others will keep believing what they’re believing.

Do you have a daily routine and/or can you walk us through a day in the life of artist Kukula?

I wake up at various hours because I sleep just like a cat—with one eye open in case of danger. Then I try to answer emails. The rest of the day I just jump from one project to another—illustration, painting, designing a new product, or looking at art books for inspiration. I rarely work on one thing all day, except for the last few months before a solo show. During the day I sit still for a long time so I do try to workout every evening.

My world doesn’t exist that’s why I paint. The closest real thing is Versailles.

How did you develop your artistic style? When did you become part of the “pop surrealism” movement?

I moved to the States a year after art school where I studied illustration. I was printing my doodles on clothes I bought at outlet malls and selling them around San Francisco boutiques and they were popular. One store that had a little gallery space asked me to do an exhibition, which for some reason was a success. My clothing-line fans bought some pieces which I later added to Myspace, then galleries like Copro Nason and Thinkspace found me and asked me to show with them and that was that.

My style changed a lot since I started. I was younger and sillier, more interested in the shocking effect than deeper emotions as I am now. I’m very inspired by 18th century paintings and artifacts. Those have had the most influence on my style.

Can you tell us a bit about the design for your This is a Limited Edition teacup?

I was so thrilled when I was requested for this project. I have tons of books about teacups and antique porcelain. I knew how this teacup would look even before I was asked, so the design was a piece of cake. The Wallace collection in London, which is my absolutely favorite collection along side the Frick in NYC, was one of my inspirations. But even though the design idea was already there, I sat for days executing the details so it would be the teacup of my dreams. I do actually dream about teacups.

What’s your process (and/or philosophy) when you approach the design for a product?

Look at stuff, lots of stuff, so you’ll know the core of what makes something a good design. Study the basic rules of good design and stick to them as much as you can. It might seem contrary to what an artist is supposed to do, but I’d say, don’t dare too much—that usually leads to ugly trash. Make a design that is sans gimmicks and trends so you will love it till the day you die. I went to a tough art school…sorry about that

What’s a life lesson you’ve learned from your cats? (And how do you have nice furniture AND cats? What’s the secret?!)

Be aware, there’s always unexpected danger, that’s what I’ve learned from my cats. Expect to be spoiled by others, that’s anther thing I’ve learned from them. My furniture is all super damaged. There’s no way around it, you need to decide who you love more. I love my cats the mostest.

What inspires you? What makes you laugh?

I think Monty Python is the only truly hilarious thing ever. And my cats are funny too. The world needs to work on its sense of humor. (I do also like The Colbert Report.)

Which current artists’ work (across any genres) do you personally enjoy?

Ellen Von Unwerth’s photography. Junko Mizuno will always be one of my very favorites. Ulyana Seergenko’s couture is so inspiring to me at the moment. I admire Mike Patton’s artistic spirit through such various projects.

What artistic tool(s) could you never live without?

Pencil. Sketchbook, too, except you can always draw on walls.

If you could travel to another period in time, which era and place would you choose, and why?

Gosh, that’s easy. 18th century France, but not being poor, a woman or Jewish (which I am), cause then it would suck.

What music is currently playing on your iTunes, Spotify, Pandora, cassette tape boombox, etc.?

I’m listening to Pandora Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers station right now, but before that I was listening to Bach and before that Buraka Som Systema station. I’m inconsistent.

Read any good books/seen any awesome movies/checked out any amazing art shows lately? (Feel free to answer all or just one!)

Got really into American Westerns lately. I’d never seen any before, but now I’m in the middle of a John Wayne marathon. Weird, I know…

What’s coming up next for Kukula?

Solo show at AFA Gallery in NYC next September. Many group shows in between. Products for my online shop. Most exciting, I made a short movie with the very talented Jennifer Masseux, Dani Seitz, and Aline Pimental that will premier on SHOWStudio sometime in the spring.

[viralhottopics]

The Day I Decided My Daughter Will Not Choose Her Own Friends

We helicopter over our kids wardrobes, nutrition, sleep schedules, hygiene, science fair projects and then pride ourselves on how hands off we are on social issues.

By Leslie Blanchard

I will never forget the day my daughter told me that Bethany, a girl in her 4th grade class, was annoying her.

What is she doing to you? I questioned, instinctively protective.

Shes following me around on the playground and sitting by me at lunch! she quipped, as if that would sum things right up and get me squarely on her side of the matter.

You mean shes trying to be friends with you? I asked incredulously.

I realized immediately that I had a problem on my hands. I was raising my own worst nightmare. Smack dab in the middle of my brood of five kids, was a charismatic, sassy, leggy, blonde, dance-y, athletic girl oozing confidence … and apparently annoyance, directed toward another little girl that wasnt lucky enough to be her. Inconveniently for my daughter, her own mother WAS Bethany in grade school. Freckled of face and frizzy of hair, I was an Army brat, always the new girl clamoring for a friend, drawn to the natural confidence of girls like my daughter. This conversation found me vacillating between heartache and fury, but one thing I knew for sure: Mama was about to put her money where her mouth had been all these years.

The battle of two very strong wills ensued at my home the next morning. It wasnt pretty, but I prevailed. My daughter attended a private Catholic grade school, where on any given day, she and a handful of her cohorts ruled the roost. One quick phone call to Bethanys mother that same evening confirmed my worst fears. My daughter and her posse were using everything short of a can of Cling Free to rid themselves of the annoying Bethany.

Im sure there are parents out there who will say I overreacted. But, I firmly believe weve got to start to address our countrys bullying epidemic right at the heart; by re-defining bullying at its very core. To me, the rejection and complete lack of interest my daughter and her clique displayed toward Bethany was the beginning of a subtle type of bullying. It is true (confirmed to me by Bethanys mom and teachers), that there was no overt unkindness or name-calling, etc., just rejection; a complete lack of interest in someone they wrongly concluded had nothing to offer them. After experiencing childhood myself and raising five of my own, Ive been on every side of the bullying social dynamic, and I am convinced this is where it begins. A casual assessment and quick dismissal of an outsider.

We would serve our children well, in my opinion, if we had a frank conversation with them about Social Darwinism and what motivates human beings to accept and reject others. It happens at every age and stage of life, race, creed and religion. It has its roots in our own fears of rejection and lack of confidence. Everyone is jockeying for their own spot on the Social Food Chain. I feel like I have experienced demonstrable success with my children by tabling this dynamic right out in the open. Parents need to call it by name, speak it out loud, shine a bright light in its ugly face. We need to admit to our children that we too experience this, even as adults. Of course its tempting to curry favor and suck-up to the individual a rung of two above you on the Social Ladder, but every single human being deserves our attention and utmost respect. In spite of this, we have to constantly remind our children and ourselves that everyone can bring unexpected and unanticipated value to our lives. But we have to let them.

Its simply not enough to instruct your children to Be Nice! Youve got to be more specific than that. Kids think if they arent being outright unkind, they are being nice. We know better. Connect the ugly dots. Explain the Darwinistic social survival instinct thats often motivating and guiding their impulses. I promise you, they can handle it. They already see it on some level anyway. They just need YOU to give it a voice and re-direction.

As for my girl, I instructed her that she was going to invest some time and energy getting to know Bethany. I assigned her to come home from school the next day and report three cool things she found out about Bethany, that she didnt previously know. My strong-willed child dug in. She did not want to do that. I dug in deeper. I refused to drive her to school the next morning, until she agreed. It seemed that, at least until now, I had the car keys and the power. Her resistance gave us time to have the Social Darwinism conversation. I walked her through my ATM Machine Analogy. I explained to her that she had social bank to spare. She could easily make a withdrawal on behalf of this little girl, risking very little.

Lets invest! I enthused and encouraged.

She got dressed reluctantly and I drove her to school. She had a good daywhat was left of it. But, she was still buggy with me when I picked her up, telling me that her friends mothers stay out of such matters and let their daughters choose their own friends! (Such wise women.) And then she told me three cool things about Bethany that she didnt previously know.

I checked back in with Bethanys mother by phone two weeks later. Its called follow through. (I dont think enough of us are doing that. We helicopter over our kids wardrobes, nutrition, sleep schedules, hygiene, science fair projects and then pride ourselves on how hands off we are on social issues. If I had a dollar for every time I wanted to say, Seriously? You micro-manage the literal crap out of every thing your child does from his gluten intake to his soccer cleats, but THIS you stay out of? No wonder theres zero accountability and a bullying culture!) Bethanys mother assured me that she had been welcomed into the fold of friendship and was doing well.

Bethanys family moved to another state a few years later. My daughter cried when they parted ways. They still keep in touch through all their social media channels. She was and is a really cool girl, with a lot to offer her peers. But the real value was to my daughter, obviously. She gained so much through that experience. She is now a 20-year-old college sophomore, with a widely diverse group of friends. She is kind, inclusive and open to all types of people. When she was malleable, impressionable and mine to guide:

She learned her initial instinct about people isnt always correctly motivated.

She learned you can be friends with the least likely people; the best friendships arent people that are your type! In the world of friendship, contrast is a plus.

She learned that there are times, within a given social framework, that you are in a position to make a withdrawal on behalf of someone else. Be generous, invest! It pays dividends.

But, most importantly, she learned that, while I may not be overly-interested in what she gets on her Science Fair project, couldnt care less if shes Lactose Intolerant or whether her long blonde hair is snarled, shes going to damn well treat people right.

Parentsyour kids are going to eventually develop the good sense to wear a jacket and eat vegetables, invest your energy in how they interact within society. If we insist on being the hovering Helicopter Parent Generation, lets at least hover over the right areas.

About the Author:Leslie Blanchard is a wife and mother of five, who tattles on her husband, her own mother and her children by chronicling the insane and mundane in all of their lives in a fairly public way. Collectively, her family more or less rues the day they purchased her an iPad. Now that shes officially a blogger, Leslie lies in the tub, neglecting her considerable responsibilities and muses about marriage, motherhood, friendship and other matters of life outside the bubbles. Read more from Leslie on her blog A Ginger Snapped: Facing the Music of Marriage & Motherhood.

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from The Day I Decided My Daughter Will Not Choose Her Own Friends