#she only ever knew me pre-transition and I look largely different now

[kyofsonder]

Me: My ex-bff wasn't that bad. I know my therapist has said it counts as abuse, but we met when we were 11. She didn't know what she was doing. There was no malicious intent. She was a largely neglected kid with a messed up sense of boundaries, it just sucked that I was both really compatible and really incompatible with that. She even got a little better over the 13 years we knew each other, she wasn't a bad person. She saw the world differently than I do, that's all.

Me, talking about what it was like to use Tumblr in middle school: It was fun, but I had some restrictions. I couldn't follow things -- tags, people, etc -- that my best friend didn't like. I couldn't join fandoms she had claimed; if she liked it first, or liked it "more" than me then it was hers and I'd mess it up by liking it. I had to join fandoms she'd decided I would like, or we'd like together, even if they weren't fun for me. I wasn't allowed to be online at night without telling her, because if she caught me she'd say that was time I could have spent chatting with her if I wasn't going to sleep. She'd feel betrayed. If I made an original post, she'd immediately comment on it as a way of "claiming" me as her best friend and warning others that the position of best friend was taken. Also to interact with me and be my friend, but mostly to keep me focused on her. She did not comment on or like any of my writing, though. She never read it. She said it was boring, then demanded I read everything she ever wrote and quizzed me at school about whether I'd seen her posts or emails about her writing yet. So Tumblr had a bit of a shadow looming over it, but I still liked the fandoms and memes!

The Memory of My Therapist (she's not dead, I just haven't seen her in 2 weeks): You know it doesn't have to have malicious intent to have harmful results, right? You know that whether she knew what she was doing or not, she still did messed up things you didn't deserve?

Me: Well, when I lay it out like that it does sound kind of bad, yeah... 😬

[tpwkay]

Medicine (h.s.)

You’re finally given permission to cover the song you’ve wanted to perform for years and a special surprise during your performance sweeps you off of your feet.

Word count: 11.5k

Rating/warnings: NSFW - A lot of this is plot but there is smut as well. Contains explicit language and consensual sex acts between a man and woman. This is a story written in the 2nd person (“self insert"). This isn’t written to be exclusionary, it’s just my preferred style! Author’s note can be found at the end!

"Ladies and gentlemen, I cannot thank you enough for coming out tonight to listen to me and the band. We've got a couple more songs coming up for you but I just wanted to take a minute to tell y'all how much we appreciate you." You gesture to yourself and the band behind you as the lights on stage come up a bit. "We wouldn't be where we are without your support. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you!"

The crowd cheers and you can't help but experience an insurmountable feeling of joy. It never gets old. You'd been in the spotlight for a few years now, already at the end of touring your second album, though the size and scope of venues this time around was much, much larger. There was nothing that compared to being able to sing your own songs and have a crowd of thousands scream them right back at you.

Being an up-and-coming singer and songwriter in the genre of country music hadn't been easy. Girls your type had been a dime a dozen, hoards of Taylor Swift-wannabes covering "Teardrops on My Guitar" during open mic night. You held nothing against them; there was a path to success for everyone, but yours had been, well, different. 

It was a karaoke cover of Brooks & Dunn's "Boot Scootin' Boogie", a song that you'd been singing since you were a toddler, that had gotten you noticed by a recording artist one night while out with your girlfriends, which led you to where you stand now, performing in front of thousands. You were liked for the range of your voice, with it's easy easy transitions from the sounds of pop to country and rock, in addition to the way you performed, and your take-no-shit attitude towards the entirety of the industry. People liked that you were forward and left nothing on the table, though you had to admit that it was mostly an act, a means of coping with the pressure of working your way to the top.

///

"It's refreshing!" Jax, your manager, had shouted one day, arms flailing as you had argued that maybe your attitude was going to get you into trouble one of these days.

"Aren't you, as, you know, my manager, supposed to be the one keeps me in line?"

"You aren't out doing coke, killing anyone, public indecency and all that," he had shrugged. "Far as I'm concerned, you are in line. People talk about you because of your attitude. They like it! They like you. Why is that so hard for you to accept sometimes?"

"Maybe I just haven't been caught doing those things," you grinned, effectively dodging his question. Fame hadn't helped break down the walls that you'd long ago built around yourself. If anything, you had done some reinforcing, built a moat even, in an effort to ensure that you protected yourself from getting too close to anyone that would only end up using you in the end. You had seen the way people in life had been used, and what it ultimately led them to, and you had promised yourself long ago that even if it meant being known as the Boot Scootin' Bitch, you would protect yourself and your heart at all costs. 

"Your momma would tan your hide for much less than any of those, you know. Hell, you should be more afraid of her than you are of me or anyone else… 'cept maybe God."

///

You shake your head, working the memories free from your mind as you grab a bottle of water from the platform on which the drum set rests.

There's one more song of yours to sing before you performed a new cover, the one you had been looking forward to for months. Although you'd gotten permission to perform it not long into the start of your tour, the set list had been rehearsed already and every other detail ironed out around it. You'd convinced Jax and the crew to let you slot it into the last concert of the tour, Austin, Texas. These folks knew their music and for some reason, they liked you so you were thrilled to be able to share something new with the crowd that had welcomed you to their city with open arms. 

You grab your guitar off its stand and slide the strap over your shoulders, adjusting it as you step forwards to the mic stand. A shimmering blue shirt catches your eye in the crowd and you do a double take because surely it can't be Harry because he's—

And it's not him, of course, though the fashion of the gentleman in the pit area would surely catch his eye as well as it's right up his alley. It's not him - it can't be him - because you know exactly where he is right now and it's not in the pit of your Austin performance. 

A grin stretches over your face as you think of him. You strum the first chord of the first song you'd ever written about him, although there had been many more since. He probably knew this one was about him, having come just after your first meeting. 

/// 

A friend of yours was good friends with Kacey, who had been the guest artist that night. Her name had been added to the VIP list and in the summer of 2018, just as you were hitting your own stride in your career, you tagged along with her to Harry Styles' live tour performance in your hometown of Nashville. 

If you were being honest, prior to his concert, you hadn't heard much of his solo work, apart from the various huge hits like his Kiwi or Watermelon Sugar and a few other ballads. You liked his sound, seemingly influenced heavily by rock stars of days past, but you'd had other influences to worry about in your own side of the industry. 

Sure, he had country music connections through the likes of Kacey Musgraves and Cam, and legends like Stevie Nicks, but his pop and soft rock style was pretty far removed from most country playlists that you yourself had graced. Your genres just didn't cross paths and the two of you seemingly operated in different realms of the music industry, topping your own charts and breaking your own peer's records. 

Of course, you hadn't been completely oblivious to The Harry Styles. One Direction had been too big of a deal to ignore and you'd often found yourself bopping along to their old hits, singing along as they played amongst the other nostalgic pop hits to which you listened. 

The concert had been in June, a hot sunny day followed by a perfect breezy evening. Downtown Nashville was always busy, but that night the city seemed to buzz, bright with music and life. After meeting for drinks at Acme on the River, you allowed yourself to luxuriate in getting lost in the crowd that milled about on Broadway. It was a surprising thing to not be recognized in your hometown, but you weren't one to complain about it. It was one reason that you value your time in Nashville over other music-centric cities like Los Angeles - it seemed that people here respected the private lives of musicians. There was an odd fan here and there, but you'd lived a majority of your "famous" life in Nashville in relative peace. 

You were early to the venue, your friend having wanted to have a chance to see Kacey backstage. You were excited to finally meet the star - though you'd been around the block of fame a bit already, there would always be people that you never had an opportunity to meet in passing. You had been greeted at will call and had been led backstage.

The arena was alive with excitement. At that point, you yourself had never toured a venue that large, so the experience of being backstage and seeing the operations first hand were thrilling and a bit overwhelming. In her dressing room, Kacey pulled you straight into a hug, gushing about how excited she was to watch your career take off. She insisted on sharing her personal cell phone number with you, urging you to call her to get together on a collaboration. You were in shock leaving her room, blown away by her kindness and the way the music industry worked in the most bizarre of ways, when you turned a corner and ran smack into a tall, solid, smiling Harry Styles. His arms had come out quickly to steady you on your heels boots. 

"Fuck," you swore, shaking your head at your clumsiness. "I am so sorry. What a great way to introduce myself."

He laughed and the sound flowed through you, warm and sweet like a cup of tea with honey. "Y'alright?" His eyes looked you over, and you couldn't help but notice the way they lingered. 

Your cheeks blushed and a wave of embarrassment washed over you. "I'm the one that should be asking you that. I don't think your adoring fans would be very happy if I took you out with a textbook tackle right before you're due to go on stage." You took a moment to give him the same appreciative glance he had already given you, admiring the way his deep blue custom-beaded suit jacket fell open to reveal a black dress shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest. 

"Ah, 'm fine. Lil' thing like you couldn't do too much damage to me, even in those heels. Don't think they'd be very happy though," he said, nodding his head in acknowledgement of the already-rowdy crowd while offering his hand. "I'm Harry."

You laughed as you introduced yourself, shaking his hand. 

"I've heard that name before, but I'm sorry to say that I don't recognize you. You don't seem like one that's easy to forget."

"I sing, write music," you shrugged, not sure how to explain to a superstar that you were on the way up, yet still somewhere much farther down the fame totem pole than him. "Country, mostly. Not sure if that's on your radar."

"The new stuff's not, but I may have to change that." He was tapped by one of the event producers, needed for another pre-show procedure. "Where will you be tonight?" 

"To your right, in the pit."

He smiled and you had almost immediately fallen in love with the crinkles that appeared under the corners of his eyes. "I'll look out for you. It was wonderful meeting you. Oh, shit, wait, just remembered— may I?" he gestured for the phone that was in your hand and you unlocked it before passing it to him. 

You watched as he dialed a number and put the phone to his ear. He paused for a moment before he grinned. "Hi Harry, it's you from before the show. This is a message to remind you to text this number and ask the owner of it out on a date. She's the one with the beautiful smile and great tackling skills. You won"t have forgotten her. 'Kay, bye!"

You laughed at an almost embarrassing volume, blown away by his cheek. 

"Why not ask 'her' out now?" you pondered to him as he handed the phone back.

"What, and risk getting shot down? Wouldn't want to be sad and disappointed through my whole show, now would I?"

"It would make the ballads a bit more emotional," you had reasoned with a grin.

"Ouch! They're already filled with emotion, love. You'll see, I'll sing 'em right to you if I have to. Gotta run, thank you for letting me use your phone, that was a very important message!"

You laughed again as he took off. "Harry!" you had shouted to get his attention in the busy hall. He turned quickly, a small smile on his face. "She definitely won't say no, but you can wait until later to ask if you want to."

His grin stretched wider and he'd pumped a fist in the air before turning and jogging down the hallway. 

You liked to joke with anyone who knew the story that your life had changed that day all because you met Kacey. Which wasn't a complete lie - it had been her dressing room you'd come out of before slamming into Harry in the hallway. 

///

Singing the last lines of one of your songs, your stomach began to flutter in a bit of nervousness and a lot of excitement. Performing the next cover was something you had been looking forward to for months, and the moment that you got to share it with your fans was finally here. 

You retreat from the mic stand to pass your guitar off to a stagehand, taking another sip of water to settle yourself. 

"Doing alright?" Wyatt, your drummer, shouts over the pounding bass drum and you give him a thumbs up before turning back to face the crowd. 

"I've got one more cover to play for y'all tonight," you say, grasping the mic stand to keep your hands from shaking. "I've been working on getting permission to play this one for quite awhile now. I fell in love with it the first time I heard it played and now here I am, performing it for you all. It's an unreleased piece by a very, very good friend of mine, but his performances of it are all over the internet so some of you may know the words. This song is called Medicine."

The song starts out with a steady bass line and the rhythm centers you a bit, steadying any nerves that still linger. The intro gives you a minute to shake out your shoulders and get comfortable at the mic stand once more like Harry does at each performance. You catch yourself having fun mimicking him and feel thankful that you're able to perform one of your favorite songs of his. When the bass drops in pitch and the electric guitar riffs, you slide in close to the mic stand.

"Here to take my medicine, take my medicine," you sang the opening lines, already settling into the sexy rock sound of the song you and the band had rehearsed relentlessly over the last few weeks. No, the genre wasn't one you normally dabbled in, but part of the fun of performing was taking chances, risks. You had to admit, you liked the sound a lot. It tempted you to branch out a bit more on your upcoming album. 

The opening lines of the first verse throw you back into thoughts of meeting Harry that first night. You hadn't imagined what would follow the concert, let alone have the foresight to see it bringing you to this very moment in time. 

///

You had been standing outside the arena after the concert, ears buzzing and heart thumping still from the incredible show Harry had put on. As soon as he disappeared from the backstage hall earlier, you had immediately saved his number to your phone, still in disbelief over the night's events. 

Your heart had soared when your phone began to vibrate, not in a text message but in a voice call. Harry's name appeared on the screen and your friend had nudged you, clearly approving of the night's turn of events. 

"Harry," you answered, ready to praise him halfway to Sunday on his performance. 

"Let me take you out," he interrupted you. "Right now. Please? Anywhere you want to go." 

You laughed and paused. "Yeah, okay. I might know of a place."

There was a lot of shuffling on his end before his voice came back on the line. "Might've had to do another fist pump."

"Told you she wouldn't say no."

"Where are you?" You heard the smile in his voice, already familiar with it. 

"Demonbreun and John Lewis, headed towards the park."

"Give me 10, I'll pick you up." He paused. "Be careful, okay?"

"I'll stick with the hoards of your fans milling about, maybe ask some of them for the hot gossip on you while I wait."

"Don't believe anything they say," he said, and you could tell he was still smiling as he hung up. 

He and his driver arrived shortly after, Harry's hair damp and covered with a baseball cap, dressed down in black pants and a simple loose white shirt, tattoos peeking out everywhere you looked. He exited the car and opened the back door for you, helping you balance as you stepped up into the large Suburban. 

"We'll go to Pecker's," you said to his driver, laughing as Harry snorted next to you. "Shut up, it's just a bar. Take a right up here onto 24 and it'll take us all the way to Fairfield. It'll be on the right."

He looked at you and smiled before reaching out to hold your hand in the middle seat between you. 

Taking Harry to Pecker's had just felt right. It was where you'd been discovered, where all of your adventures had started, and you weren't sure why but you wanted to share that small part of you with him after watching him up on stage that night. 

"Won't people recognize you? I looked you up before the show, you're apparently a pretty big deal around here." He had asked, smirking, sipping on the locally-brewed beer that Clint, the regular bartender, was serving that night. 

"Locals are pretty good about not interrupting our normal lives. Pecker's isn't as well known to tourists either, so it's a good hideout. This is where a lot of producers, executives and all the other professionals come to unwind." You ignored his comment on your fame and had taken a sip of your margarita instead. "Unless, of course, there's a drag show scheduled, then it's a bit of a madhouse."

Harry laughs into his drink and you grin. "So," he started after a pause, twiddling with the rings on his right hand. "What'd you think?"

"It was incredible," you said without hesitation. "Truly one of the best live shows I've seen in a long time, country acts included. You've got such a magnetism about you that people can't help but want to watch." You blushed a bit, alcohol and the quick comfort of him loosening your lips. "The whole water spraying trick was hot," you admit, making him blush. "And don't tell Stevie, but I think I might prefer your version of The Chain."

"Sacrilege! That's some incredibly high praise," he said, a small smile teasing at the corners of his mouth. 

"Earned and deserved," you said, tilting your glass to his. "Honestly, Harry, you're an incredible musician. There aren't many out there that have the whole package like that."

"What about you? You seem like the whole package."

"I don't know if I'd say that. If you looked me up, you've likely seen what they say about me. 'My attitude won't get me far' and all. But I don't think it's my attitude, so much as it is my willingness to take the risks that others won't. I'm not out here to make music that's just there to be sold. Hell, I couldn't care less about the money. All I want is to create music that makes me feel fulfilled, and I think that honesty scares them." You twirled your finger in the condensation of the glass in front of you. You glanced up to his face finding his eyes already on yours, holding your gaze steadily. "It doesn't scare you, does it?"

"It's the most refreshing thing I've heard in a while. Not many people in the industry are fearless in the face of failure like that."

"I'm definitely not fearless; I just refuse to change who I am to make a buck."

"Who are you then?" Harry had asked, and telling him your story was easy. You couldn't understand how it was so natural, opening up to a stranger, but as the conversation wore on, you realized how similar you and Harry were in terms of the way you conducted your professional lives and that was without apology. 

And you also realized, as the evening continued and you and Harry crept your bar stools closer and closer to one another, feet and knees bumping, his fingers tracing the ridges of your knuckles as you shared life stories like long lost friends, that you didn't want it to end. 

///

"He's acting like a gentleman," you continue, changing up the lyrics slightly as you finish the first verse. The line always made you smile and you let yourself briefly flash back into your reminiscing about the night you'd met Harry, and how, even though he had acted gentlemanly upon dropping you off for the evening, you wanted to be anything but a gentlewoman. 

///

After enjoying drinks late into the evening at Pecker's, Harry had insisted on having his driver take you home rather than allowing you to call an Uber. 

"Such a gentleman," you commented as he opened the car door for you once again. 

"Maybe my gentlemanly actions have motives," he said, sliding his hand along your lower back as you step past him and into the car. Your grin matched his smirk as he shut the door and you decided that he'd been right - not calling an Uber was the right thing to do.

The car ride back to your apartment building was too quick and before you knew it, he was at your door again, offering a hand for you to hold for balance as you exited the car. Neither of you let go as you walked through the lobby towards the elevators. 

"You're uh— You're welcome to come up, if you'd like," you said, suddenly shy but not wanting to chicken out on asking for what you wanted, asking for some continuation of this sweet but likely brief meeting between you two. "For a drink, I mean, or to keep chatting, you know."

Harry smiled and glanced around the empty lobby. His hand in yours smoothed up the length of your arm, over your shoulder, and came to rest at your jaw. "I'd love to, believe me. You have no idea how much I want to." He leaned towards you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead and your skin burned at the contact of his lips. "But I want to do this the right way. Don't want you to get the wrong idea of me."

"What if I want the wrong idea of you?"

He laughed, the sound open and honest and it had given you hope. "You called me a gentleman earlier and I have to admit that I liked it, coming from you. Would like to keep up the facade that I am, even if it's just for a bit." His face searched yours, each of you trying to read the thoughts that were flying through one another's minds. "You have beautiful lips," he whispered suddenly, his accent thicker than it had been all night. 

Your mouth quirked into a smile, unable to do anything but preen at his compliment. "You do too," you replied, just as softly. 

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please, yes." Before the words had settled he was kissing you, slowly and with too much care, like you would break if he wasn't gentle enough. It was over much too quick but you knew you would remember every moment of it for the rest of your life. 

"Christ, I'd wanted to do that all night." His thumb smoothed over your cheekbone, smiling when you leaned into the touch. He glanced up as the elevator doors swung open and gently nudged you towards them. "Thank you, truly, for a wonderful evening. I promise to give you a call soon."

"I'll send Kacey after you if you don't!" you laughed, stepping into the lift.

"Good night darling." He winked and the doors slid shut, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the delicious ghost of his lips on yours. 

///

"Give me that adrenaline, that adrenaline, think I'm gonna stick with you," you finish the first verse as Ryann rips through the chords on her guitar. You loved that the song built slowly, and even though that meant a quieter beginning, it promised an explosive end. 

Though the crowd had been hesitant at first, you can see that the first few rows of them are nodding along, countless phones out recording the performance. You know that somewhere out there at your request is a member of your press team, professionally filming the cover. You may only be doing it once, but you were determined to make sure you would never forget it.

///

You had enough time at home to check some of your social media accounts, shower and get comfortable in bed before your phone rang again. For the second time that day, your heart soared seeing Harry's name light up your screen.

"If you're going to say that you're downstairs because you've reconsidered my offer for that nightcap, I'll need a few moments to prepare as I'm currently in my pajamas," you said as a greeting and you were met with his warm laughter once again.

"No, no, I had to go back to the arena for a bit anyways, pack up and all of that," he said, still chuckling. "I just— I wanted to make sure you weren't offended by me declining your offer. Because I wanted to— I didn't want the night to end there. There's something about you that's… Transfixing. And I don't want to ruin that and make you think you're just a fling."

"That's quite a compliment," you said, a bit awed by his words.

"What was it you said earlier, "earned and deserved", yeah?" He said, quoting your toast to him at the bar, making you grin. "I want you to be more than that. I'd like to get to know you, the gentlemanly way."

"Okay. Will we have a chaperone at our next date then?" He laughed but didn't correct your referral to that evening as a date. You had snuggled a bit deeper into the sheets, still disbelieving that all of this had been the result of being dragged along to a concert. 

"No chaperones," he chuckled, "but yes, I do want to take you out again, if you'd let me."

"Hmm," you jokingly pondered aloud, as if answering with anything other than a resounding "yes" was on your mind. "I suppose I could fit something into my schedule."

"I hope that's a yes."

"Of course it's a yes! I didn't want the night to end either. And don't you dare say that you just did another fist pump," you had laughed, hearing the familiar shuffling of the phone on his end of the line.

"Me? Never!"

"You're adorable," you had said, a smile stuck on your face.

"And you're beautiful. Two can play this game."

There had been a comforting silence between you for a moment before you had spoken up again. "Harry?"

"Yeah, love?"

You had blushed at the pet name but loved the way it sounded being directed your way. "Thank you," you had whispered. 

"Should be me thanking you. Sleep well sweetheart." You'd fallen asleep with your phone in hand, hopeful that you wouldn't wake up the next morning to realize it had all been a dream.

/// 

It hadn't been a dream, and here you were, nearly two years later, performing one of the songs that Harry himself had sung the night that you'd begun falling for him.

The second verse continued quickly and you let the lyrics wash over you as you sang, loving the way the rock energy of the song sounded with a bit of your band's country influence. 

"Here to take my medicine, take my medicine, rest it on your fingertips," you sang, holding your pointer finger in the air much like Harry did every time he performed the song before bringing it to your lips as you sang the next line. "Up to your mouth, feeling it out, feeling it out."

/// 

Beginning to date Harry - properly date him too, not just make FaceTime calls to one another from across the world and sending texts back and forth until the wee hours of the morning thanks to the differences in time zones, sharing everything and more with one another as best you could digitally - had been the most exhilarating experience of your life, and you had performed in front of sold out crowds and accepted awards on live television. His tour was due to stretch on for almost another month throughout North America and the next time you saw him was when you'd been invited as Harry's guest to his show in Chicago just a few weeks after you'd met. 

While he had put on an incredible show for the United Center, there had been moments that felt like he was performing just for you, glancing over to where you stood in the Friends and Family area, meeting your eyes and grinning. By that point, you could sing along to every song of his and you knew he loved it, loved watching you dance along to the music that he had created and was performing. 

In a moment where you were thankful for the differences between the genres in which you two performed, you hadn't been recognized at all by his fans. You'd both talked about wanting to keep things quiet as you got to know one another, and you hadn't wanted a relationship with him, an already incredibly famous artist, to somehow influence the trajectory of yours. While it had been easy when you were apart, being together without seemingly being together was difficult. Especially in that moment, when all you wanted to do was curl up into him and soak in the post-show bliss with him. Instead, you sat on the couch with him, a cushion apart from one another, holding his hand tightly while you chatted about the concert. 

"Someone is gonna notice that you looked to my side of the pit constantly all night," you said and he grinned guiltily. 

"I like knowing you're in the crowd," he shrugged. "Besides," he scooted closer and threw his arm around you before dragging you in close, "you look incredible, how could I not want to stare at you all night?"

"Anyone could walk in," you pointed out, watching as his eyes followed your lips. 

"Just want a little taste," he said, moving in closer, "Haven't I earned a kiss from my girlfriend after all of that work up on stage?"

Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you looked at him and he seemingly realized his slip-up. 

"I mean— What I meant was— Shit," he scrubbed a hand over his face but you could tell he was hiding a grin. "Wasn't exactly how I wanted to ask you, but… Will you officially be my girlfriend?"

"Yes, H. I'm all yours."

"Love it when you call me H." He pulled you in for a kiss that you both lost yourselves in, finally able to experience the feeling of one another after being denied it for so long. When a knock at the dressing room door came, Harry had to all but drag himself away from you, hair disheveled and lips swollen, scowling at the door. 

You threw your head back and laughed as he stalked over and pulled it open with a flourish. 

"What?"

"The hell's your issue?" you heard Mitch ask before Harry widened the door so he could see you laughing on the couch. You raised a hand in greeting and Harry's scowl deepened as Mitch chuckled, taking in both of your disheveled appearances. "Oh, shit, hey, sorry. Uh, car's ready when you are. See you tomorrow bud." 

"Harry!" you chided once he'd closed the door in Mitch's face, giggles still bubbling out of your mouth. "He was just being polite."

"Interrupting arse is what he is," Harry said, sitting down and pulling you into his lap. "Where were we?"

You threw your arms around his neck and pressed your body as close to his as possible, hoping that he'd thought to lock the door before returning to your embrace. "Right about here, I think." With a hand on your hip, sliding under your shirt to reach warm skin and one at the back of your neck, Harry kissed you until you were breathless and not only wanting more but very seriously needing it. 

"Come back to the hotel with me," he murmured against your lips as you ground your body down on him, reveling in the way the action made him throw his head against the back of the couch and exhale sharply. 

"You sure?" Your hands smoothed over the chest of his skin, tracing the dark swallows with your fingertips as you rolled your hips. 

He shuddered at the light touch and gripped your hips tightly, pressing his up as you pressed yours down and the action made you sigh, the pressure a delicious tease of what was hopefully to come. "Absolutely," he said, his grin telling you he was pleased with the noises he was causing you to make. "Want you so bad, like I won't be able to breathe right until I properly have you."

You leaned in to kiss at his neck, his shower-damp curls tickling your cheek. "The feeling is mutual. Adored watching you up on stage tonight. Have I told you yet how much I love seeing you perform?" You nuzzle at his neck, urging him to tilt his head back farther, exposing more of his skin to you. 

"Yeah, you have, but tell me again," he sighed, his hands running up and down your back. 

"It's like when you get on stage no one else before or after you matters," you said honestly, letting your lips against his skin hide how truthful you were really being, spilling all of your thoughts about seeing Harry up on stage. It was scary, feeling so deeply for him already. But you wanted him to know, at least in part, what it meant to be able to watch him perform. "Something about your live voice just makes my breath catch in my throat, I can't get enough of it."

Harry breathed deeply for a moment, working to center himself while you nosed at the curls around his ear and heaped praise upon him. 

"It's like you connect with every person out in the crowd, like you're singing just for them. You can tell that you're having fun and people want to join you in that. They know you love the attention," you whispered and he hummed in appreciation (or agreement), the sound low in his throat. "They'd stay out there all night for if they could, screaming about how much they love you."

"And you feed into it, playing it up for them. You know exactly what you're doing when you get to act a little bit naughty up there, driving them all mad," you said with a smile. 

He chuckled and you could hear and feel the sound rumble through him. "Played it up for you tonight. Did it work?" 

"You mean did it make me want to jump your bones the second you came off stage? Yeah, it worked."

"Fucking hell," he said, holding you close with his hands on your butt as he stood up. "Our first time is not going to be in a dressing room so we need to go now."

He let you slide down his body and held you steady as you balanced on your legs. "Would be pretty fitting though, don't you think, given how we met and what we do?"

"Yeah, but then I'd think about it every time I was in one. You wanna torture me relentlessly?" He pulled you tight against him, kissing you once more before separating to grab his bags. 

"Yeah, relentless torture sounds like something I might be into." 

He glanced up at your words, eyes dark and hungry, a smirk on his lips. "Careful what you wish for, love." 

///

The bass line increased behind the riff of Ryann's guitar and you leaned into the mic stand, eyes closing as you continued singing the first bridge. "I had a few, got drunk on you and now I'm wasted, and when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you…"

There were a few fans of yours and Harry's who apparently knew the words as they helped you out, screaming the unwritten word that finished the sentence: "tasted."

///

Harry was quick to say goodbye to everyone on the team before pulling you quickly through back hallways and down quiet staircases, sneaking quick kisses when he was sure there was no one around. You were both out of breath when you finally climbed into the car, grinning like kids getting away with sneaking around. 

The hotel ride was quick, mercifully, but Harry had been anything but patient, his hand at your knee creeping up slowly, closer and closer to the hem of your dress, toying with the hem while he chatted with the driver. 

"I'm gonna head in first with Martin and Eric will loop around and drop you off at the side entrance. I would wait in the lobby for you but this hotel hasn't been the best in the past with uh— containing sensitive information, we'll say, so Martin will meet you on your floor to get your stuff, then bring you up. Is that okay?"

"You sound like you've done this before, Styles," you said with a wink, using humor to cover the nerves that had settled in the pit of your stomach. 

He blushed and you loved knowing you got under his skin so easily. "The band used to stay here when we toured… and I was young and dumb once, yes."

"Just giving you a hard time, H."

His grin stretched as he leaned over to peck your lips once more. "See you in a minute, love."

Harry climbed out and the driver took off once again, slowly circling the block. "He's quite taken with you, you know," he said, glancing up in the rear view mirror as he parked the car at the curb. He got out and opened the door for you in the empty street then used his keycard to unlock the heavy side door of the hotel.

"Thank you," you said, both for his actions and his omission about Harry. Sure, you had talked to him as often as possible over the last weeks and had yourself been on the receiving end of his attention, but it felt validating to hear that Harry's feelings for you may have gone a bit farther than just a small crush if people around him had also noticed his behavior. 

Harry's bodyguard was waiting by the elevators and escorted you to your room to gather your luggage, then led you to Harry's door.

"Car'll be around about 9 tomorrow morning, H. Flight's at 10:30." He turned to you. "I understand you have business to continue here in Chicago?"

"Yes, meetings tomorrow and then I fly back to Nashville in the evening."

"There'll be a driver ready for you tomorrow as well. He's been instructed to take you wherever you need to go and he'll stay until you depart. Have a nice evening," he nodded at Harry, who was smiling in the doorway, before departing.

"You didn't have to do that for me, I could've managed by getting an Uber," you said, stepping into the room past Harry to set your bags down and kick your shoes off. 

"I didn't, was Martin's idea; says he doesn't want anything to happen to the one thing that's made me so happy these last few weeks."

"Oh yeah? I'm the one thing, huh?"

"You're everything, honestly," he replied a bit sheepishly, taking your hands in his. "Think I might like you a bit more than I already should. Lettin' my heart get a bit ahead of my head, I suppose."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," you said softly and he beamed. 

He moved his hands up to cup your face, pulling you close for a sweet kiss that quickly turned insistent, heat rising between the two of you. Harry slid his hands under the hem of your shirt to rest where your spin ended and yours wrapped around his neck, dragging him down to you as you stepped behind you towards the bed. His long legs tangled with yours and you tumbled backwards, laughing as you hit the plush bed and Harry collapsed on top of you.

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at you with a smile, pushing the hair that had fallen into your face aside. "Hi baby," he said softly.

"Hi."

"Missed you," he said, leaning down for another sweet kiss. 

"We were apart for like, eight minutes," you giggled between his kisses, your laughter giving way to a sigh as he moved to press a kiss to your nose, your cheek, your chin.

"Doesn't matter," he breathed into the crook of your neck, pressing small open mouth kisses to the soft skin there, "Any time apart is too long."

"The two weeks left of the tour will fly by. You should enjoy them while you can."  

"Wish you could come with me, love performing for you." He kissed his way across the base of your neck, collarbone to collarbone as his fingers trailed to the small straps on your shoulders. "Would you like to take this off?"

"Please," you sighed, desperate and aching for the feeling of his skin against yours. 

Your first time sleeping with Harry had been exactly what you'd wanted and expected - hot and fast, admittedly over a bit more quickly than either of you had wanted, but worth the weeks of wait. 

Harry's skill set hadn't ended at singing and playing instruments. If anything, his vast experience using his hands and mouth only helped him excel in other pastimes that also utilized those parts of his body. To both of your delights, he had proven his adeptness in all areas multiple times that night, and once again in the morning before he had to rush into the shower, dragging you along with him simply to get more time together before you were forced apart once again. 

/// 

You had spent the next two months away from one another, Harry having wrapped his tour and immediately beginning work on his next album. You'd spent your own time mixed between writing and recording an upcoming single. You had already written a handful of songs that were inspired by him and you'd wondered, albeit a bit nervously, if the sentiment was shared. When he stopped in Nashville on a long layover, pushing his flight back even longer to stay with you for another night, you'd tried to pry the information out of him. Unfortunately, no amount of sexual teasing or denial had convinced him — he, however, had you singing like a canary almost immediately, teasing you in the best way about how easily you opened up for him, telling him all about the music that he had already inspired.

You had been FaceTiming him late one night weeks later, both tired from long days spent in the studio. He had suddenly gotten shy, biting at the skin around his fingernails. 

"Hey, stop that. What's the matter H?"

"Wanna ask you something," he mumbled, but a smile was peeking through where his fingers were still at his lips. "Jus' don't know how to."

"Baby," you sighed, "you can ask me anything. Y'know that." 

"I know, I know." He paused and took a deep breath before a wide smile stretched across his face. "Would you maybe want to come home with me this Christmas? To London? Wouldn't be for long, maybe just a couple nights, I just wanna introduce you to my mum already, she's been pestering me nonstop lately 'bout meetin' you and Gem's joined in on it now too, so it's two against one when they call and I've told them that—"

"Harry," you said chucking, trying to interrupt his nervous rambling.

"—and she actually called me Harold last time she told me to bring you 'round and that got me a bit worried so I—"

"Harry! Of course I'll come with you. I'd absolutely love to."

You met him at the airport weeks later, desperate to pull him close and kiss him silly in the confines of his darkly tinted car, but you refrained, knowing how seriously Harry took the protection of your relationship from the press. You may not have been able to see anyone straining to capture pictures of you two, but you knew there was always the chance. 

It was an entirely different story, however, when he'd finally pulled the car past the mechanical gate and into his private drive. You both reached for each other immediately, arms tangled and shifter knob pressed uncomfortably against your side, but perfectly content so long as his lips were against yours. 

"Fuck— I missed you— so much," he muttered between kisses. He pulled away, forehead resting against yours, sly smirk pulling at his lips. "Mum won't expect us for a few hours at least."

"What is it that you're insinuating, Mr. Styles?"

"That there's plenty of time to give you a tour around the house, that's all," he said innocently. He gave you a sweet smile before hopping out of the car and coming to the passenger side where he helped you out and picked up your bags.

You were eager to be given a house tour, more than keen to learn all of the things you could about his London life. The house was decorated in a way that made you smile - eclectic but with a definitive air of cohesive taste. It suited Harry to an absolute tee. From the artwork that decorated the walls to the mismatched but homey furniture, you could tell immediately that this was Harry's sanctuary - every inch of the home screamed his name. 

"It's incredible," you said as he led you into the largest room, the master. He walked over to the dresser that sat under the window and pulled open the top two drawers. 

"I know we won't be here long, this time around, but I cleaned out a few drawers for you here, if you want to unpack some things. And there's space in the closet for you too," he nodded towards the door on the other side of the room, dragging a hand through his hair as he talked, "I had too much in there anyways and some of it needed to go and I wanted you to be able to leave some things, if you felt comfortable, of if Mum drags us out shopping and you don't want to take it all home now you can leave it here and-"

"You- you cleared out a drawer for me?"

"Well, yeah," he said, resting his hand on the back of his neck. "Made some space for you in the bathroom too, though I doubt it'll be enough, with all that you bring along to fix yourself up." He paused and thought for a moment. "I know how our lives are. I just wanted you to have some of your own space here; want you to feel as comfortable in my home as I do. Is that too much?" 

"H," you said with a sigh, your lips curling into a smile, "it's perfect, and so thoughtful. I'm sorry I haven't done the same for you in Nashville yet."

"'s alright, love. I've already got a toothbrush there at least. I can take some time when we fly back to come and help if you'd like me to. As long as you don't end up wearing all the clothes that I leave there," he chuckled.

"You know me too well," you said, reaching for his hand. He lifted your entwined fingers to his lips to brush a kiss over your knuckles.

"You do look good in my clothes," he confessed, pulling you close to face him. "Look good in my house. But you always look good anyways."

"Said the pot to the kettle," you said with a smile. "I like being here already," you shrug, hands resting on his shoulders. "It feels like you, like home. Thank you for inviting me," you add, as though the measly voicing of your appreciation is enough to convey what you truly feel. 

"You're welcome anytime, if I'm here or not."

"You trust me that much?"

"Yeah, I do. I'll get you a key and everything." He leaned down to kiss you slowly, relearning the map of your lips and mouth, before pulling away. He laughed when you made a noise of protest.

"The bathroom's over here if you'd like to freshen up." He had pulled at your hand, stepping towards the other open door in the room. "Figured a shower might sound nice after a long day in an airplane. Besides, I've gotta clean up before we go to Mum's anyways."

"Gonna join me?" 

"Yeah, thought I might, if that's okay." His smirk had been wicked as he pushed you the rest of the way into the bathroom. He dropped your hand to reach for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head quickly. As he reached for the buckle of his pants, he had met your staring eyes. "See something you like, love?"

You definitely had, though you didn't think your attraction — physically or emotionally — for Harry had stopped at something that was as weak as "like." Getting to know him over the last six months had made you worry that there wasn't ever going to be anyone else like him, anyone that made you feel like he did. You had fallen for him, desperately hard, and the realization of it as you stood in front of his half-naked self almost embarrassed you. 

"Babe? You alright?" he asked as he stripped down to his boxers. 

"Yeah, you just got me all distracted," you had grinned, pulling your sweatshirt and remaining clothes off quickly before joining Harry under the warm spray of the water.

Meeting Harry's mom that evening went better than you could've ever dreamt it would. The two of you got on like old friends, and Harry had stared, almost in wonder, at how easily you seemed to bond with her. And then he had stared in horror as Anne offered to pull out the photo albums filled with pictures from Harry's childhood, particularly when Anne offered up the album filled with photos from Harry's and Gemma's emo phases. 

As the evening wore on, you caught Harry on more than one occasion glancing your way, cheeks bright from the red wine he was sipping on and eyes warmly reflecting the bright Christmas lights. He always looked like he was a split second away from saying something, only to shake his head and look away with a small smile. 

Later, in bed, Harry pulled you close to him. He was laying on his back, you on your side, and you threw a leg over his waist, soaking in all of the cuddles you could get on this short trip together. The room was only illuminated by the ambient light coming in through the blinds. 

"Mum liked you a lot," he murmured, gently stroking the skin at the base of your spine, "said I should hang onto you". 

You returned the gesture, running your fingertips along the lines of ink that make up his many tattoos. "I liked her too. She's wonderful, I see where you get it from now."

"Hey now, 'm wonderful all on my own!" He tickled your side and you couldn"t help but arch towards him, shrieking and laughing at the touch. 

"Stop that! You are an absolute pest, you know that?" you said, grinning up at him.

"Ah, you love me," he whispered, and his joking tone made you smile but the way he pulled you tighter as he said it made you brave. 

You let the weight what you were about to say wash over you, aware that things were going to change forever with just a few words. "I do love you, Harry," you whispered, moving up his body to press a kiss to his lips.

"Thank God," he had said, wrapping his arms back around you and pulling you on top of him. "Cause I love you too."

Leaving Harry after that had been even more difficult. All you wanted to do was be with him, but you had too much coming up with the future release of your album and Harry was still in the midst of doing his own writing and recording. 

It was your professions, along with the desire to keep your relationship private, that kept you apart. You weren't sure how you did it, but your relationship had withstood the distance and odd-hours. The only step now would be deciding if, when, and how to confirm the suspicions to tabloids and fans alike that you were an item.

The wait was killing you. All you wanted was to show off to the world that Harry was yours.

///

The bridge of the song was followed quickly by the chorus and the heavy guitar and pounding drums had you rocking on your feet, body swaying into the mic stand as you let yourself get lost in the lyrics. "If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive."

The crowd was even more into the song now, many picking up on the words quickly and screaming them along with your singing. The rock and roll vibe of the song was coursing through you and the crowd, the arena electric with energy already. 

"You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it."

You remove the mic from the stand and dance towards one end of the stage, singing as you move to the beat. "We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh! La da da da da! You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh!"

///

You had been on the phone with Harry one day in July, nearly five months after the release of your album, having him help you decide what the setlist of your tour would be when it began in November. 

"I wish I could cover one of your songs."

He had laughed and slurped his tea, the sounds comforting to you, even over the phone. "That'd be a bit obvious, wouldn't it love?"

"I don't mean cover Golden or Kiwi," you said, tapping your pen against the pad of paper in front of you. "What about one you wrote for 1D? What about Perfect? Or Stockholm Syndrome! That was always one of my favorites."

"Getting permission on those might be a bit more difficult, s'not just me that's gotta sign off on it. Besides, do you really wanna be the artist that covers a One Direction song on her own headlining tour?"

"Guess I'll stick with singing along to them in the shower then."

You were both quiet for a moment, lost in your own thoughts. 

"What if I covered Medicine?" you asked suddenly, realizing it was the perfect compromise, not to mention your favorite song that Harry himself performed oh his own tour. The rock sound wasn't a far cry from the roots that country music had and you knew it would sound great. "Even if it was just for one stop!"

"Hmm," Harry mused. "It would sound great with the band, I'll give you that. But videos will go around, people will know it's my song you're singing and they'll connect the dots about us."

"H, I'm ready for that if you are. I love you, and I'm ready to be able to share that love that I have for you with the world. Sneaking around has been fun but I want people to know how proud of you I am and how much you're loved and appreciated. Half of our fans know already, it's just a matter of us confirming it. I think that we could really-"

Harry was laughing at your rambling on the other end of the line. "Alright, alright, you drive a hard bargain, love. I think you're right, maybe it is time we stopped sneaking around. I'll try, but Jax and everyone else still have to agree to it too. It might be easier to convince everyone if it's just a one time thing. Pick another cover, something you'd normally do, in case it takes some time to work things out."

"I'll ask him right now! Thank you Harry!"

"I just have one condition," he said, and you could hear the grin that was surely pulling at the corners of his lips. 

"What's that?"

"I get to perform it with you," he had said, and the smile already on your face widened exponentially. "If we're finally gonna make "us" public, may as well do it with a bang."

///

In the moment after the chorus, an 8 count beat is carried by the drummer and guitarist. For this performance, and the only performance you'd put on of this song, you had rehearsed the 8 count repeating once between the chorus and the next verse, as you needed a bit of extra time to announce your guest performer. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," you shout into the mic, grin wide and face beaming already at what was about to take place. "To help me finish this performance, please help me welcome my very good friend, Harry Styles!"

Harry emerges from behind the stage holding his own wireless mic as much of the crowd screams - he may not be a country artist, but he was absolutely known worldwide. You step back with a wave of your arm, smiling as he begins the next chorus. His performance is for the crowd but he's singing the words directly to you. 

"Tingle running through my bones, fingers to my toes, tingle running through my bones," he sings, voice smooth like whiskey, and the crowd adores him, eating out of the palm of his hand. "The boys and the girls are in, I mess around with them, and I'm OK with it." 

You can't help but dance as he sings, his voice and the energy of the crowd propelling you to move. He watches you, eyes no longer on the crowd, as he sings the next lines. Immediately, heat pools low in your belly at his glance and the words. 

"I'm coming down, I figured out I kinda like it. And when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you…"

You gyrate your hips at the unsung line of "ride it", listening with a sly grin as some in the crowd scream the two words that go unsung. 

///

After giving him a key, Harry had moved some of his clothes to your apartment in Nashville some time while you were away on the first leg of your tour. He had found the city to be incredibly welcoming and inspirational for his upcoming album and had decided to stay there for a spell while you continued to tour around the country. 

You had scheduled a short break between your concerts over New Years, wanting to be able to grab at least one or two nights at home with him to celebrate the holiday before you were back on the road again. 

"So fucking glad you're home," Harry panted, pulling your shirt over your head before attaching his lips to yours once again. "Missed you like crazy."

"Missed you too," you moaned as his lips moved downwards, across your neck and over your collarbones, down the valley between your breasts. Before he could reach around to unhook your bra, you reached for his shirt, as desperate as he was to see and touch what you'd been missing. 

As he pulled the half-unbuttoned blouse over his head, you pulled your leggings off and reached for him, pushing him back onto the bed behind him. He unbuttoned his pants as he scooted up towards the middle of the bed, shoving them and his boxers off in one swoop. 

You climbed on top of him, hurriedly reaching to kiss him as you rubbed your clothed center along the length of his hard cock. 

"Fuck," he hissed, throwing his head back to allow you room to kiss his neck. "Desperate aren't you, darling?"

"Want you so bad it hurts," you whispered, sucking a bright hickey right where it would absolutely be seen by anyone.

You moved to continue kissing down his chest but he stopped you with a hand under your arm. "Not gonna last long, love. Wanna be inside you."

His cheeks and chest were flushed bright red, lips puffy and pupils blown wide. This was when you loved him most, being able to have him like no one else did. The same feeling always hit you at certain moments, particularly ones of domesticity, like when you watched him back the car out of the driveway or when he stood in the kitchen in the morning in nothing but socks, boxers, and his ratty old robe, singing along to old big band jazz as he waited for the coffee to brew. There was Harry Styles the musician, Harry Styles the actor, and Harry Styles the performer, but then there was your Harry. 

"Yeah, okay," you sighed, moving off of him quickly to remove your bra and panties. You climbed back onto the bed and threw your leg over his hips, straddling him. He immediately reached for you and pulled you flush against his chest, his lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss. 

You rocked your hips against him as he held you, your slick arousal gliding along his length, drawing a moan from both of you. 

"Baby, please," he panted, and you could only mod in agreement, lost already to the sweeping feeling of your close release. 

His hands rested on your hips as you positioned him at the entrance between your legs. You groaned in harmony as you worked down him slowly, the only sound in the room was your shared heavy breathing and gasps. 

"Fuck me," he sighed as you set a slow pace, rocking on top of him to reach each spot that you know will get you there. 

"Workin' on it," you grin. A quick swivel of your hips hit at just the right angle and you tossed your head back, repeating the movement over and over again until you shuddered with a final snap of tension, your orgasm rolling over you as Harry helped you move, hands tight on your hips, to wring all you could from the release. 

"You look so beautiful right now, like a fuckin' angel," Harry said, voice low and gravely, accent thick with need. 

"How's that line go?" you said as you slowed down, smirking when a harsh rock of your hips caused Harry to moan. "'Turns out she's a devil in between the sheets'?"

"Fuck," he groaned again, eyes closed tightly. "Can't just go reciting my own lyrics to me while I"m buried in ya like this, love."

"And there's nothing you can do about it," you continued, singing the line of his song this time, and his hips buck up into yours harshly.

"You're gonna pay for that," he had said, quoting another of his songs, before he had flipped you over onto your back and set his own brutal pace.

///

Like he can read your thoughts, Harry beams and wags a finger in your direction and the crowd screams at your chemistry together. You grab your mic from its stand and take a step towards Harry to sing the chorus together.

"If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive." Harry dances off to the side of the stage, performing once again for the crowd. 

You dance at center stage with your wireless mic, too excited about performing with Harry that you can't stand in one spot. The music and Harry's energy make you want to move. "You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it." 

"We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh! La da da da da!" Harry throws his head back, singing along in his own world and you can't look away from him. He really was a rockstar and getting to share the stage with him like this was an experience you'd never forget. 

"You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh!"

There's a great pause in the lyrics where the guitar, keyboard, and drums play together, increasing the tension of the song. You and Harry take off towards opposite ends of the stage, both reveling in the performance for the crowd as you dance and stomp to the beat. Eventually, with a slide down the keys of the keyboard, the instrumental quiets into just the steady beat of the bass line joined by the hi-hats. 

You and Harry urge the crowd to clap along as you both return to the middle of the stage to sing together once again. He always said that this portion of the song was one of his favorites to perform, the repeated line from the bridge ending abruptly with the lights going out before flashing back on, the added theatrics of the performance elevating the climax of the song completely. Having rehearsed that Harry would sing the following chorus alone, you let yourself get lost in his gaze as it settles on you.

You stand facing one another behind the mic stand, once again singing more to one another rather than to the crowd. You step closer towards him as the lyrics progress, nearly chest to chest now with your voices sharing one another's mics. "I had a few, got drunk on you and now I'm—"

Before you can sing the last word of the line and the lights can blink out as rehearsed, Harry leans forwards and captures your mouth in a hungry kiss. The crowd erupts with screams as the lights above the stage go dark.

You can feel rather than hear him say the words "I love you" against your lips and you have just enough time to repeat them back to him before the drums and guitar pick the beat up once again, the lights flashing back on brightly. He moves away and continues to sing the chorus that follows as if nothing had happened. You're a bit stunned, not having prepared for his relationship-revealing public display of affection to happen during your performance of his song but it was perfect and he knows it. Your smile is wide and you can't help but stand rooted where you are and laugh at what has just finally happened.

"If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive," he sings, smirking at you while you blush across from him. 

You join him in singing the last lines, your right hand joining his left hand where everyone can see your fingers entwine. 

"You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it. We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh!"

You urge the crowd with a waving hand to join in and they do, singing along with you and Harry. "La da da da da! You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh!"

The drums and guitar end the song on five quick beats and the crowd erupts once again in screams. You immediately jump towards Harry, throwing your arms around his neck in a close embrace. His hands wrap around your waist to hold you close, and you can feel him smile where his face is pressed close to your jaw.

"How was that?" he asks, chuckling against you.

"It was perfect, you're perfect. Thank you, H. For everything."

"Can take you on a proper date now, yeah? Wanna show my girl off to the world."

"Yes, please!" You can't wipe the smile from your face as he sets you down and Harry continues to beam at you as the crowd continues screaming, reeling from your shared performance. 

Harry nudges you gently before turning back to them, lifting his and your arms high in the air and leading you in bending for a bow. He steps away from you and turns, opening his arms wide to you for the crowd to praise and you laugh, tearing up at his gesture and the overwhelming emotions of the performance while you take another bow just for yourself. 

He pulls you into another hug and you can't help but angle your face up towards him, wordlessly asking for another very quick, very public kiss.

He glances down at you, smiling. "You're gonna love this now, aren't you?"

"Course I am. love showing them you're mine."

He leans down to peck your forehead, your nose, and finally, your lips, as the crowd goes wild. "Love showing them you're mine. You've got a show to finish, love. Go kill it."

///

Ahh! So much fun! This has been such a joy to write and I appreciate you taking the time to give it a chance! It’s my first (of hopefully many) Harry fics - reading all of the stories here has been immensely inspiring, and I’m so looking forward to writing more!

Tagging my love @morganlatte​ who is a wonderful hype woman and beta reader. Thanks buddy!

Anyways! Thank you for reading! My love language is words of affirmation (aka I have a praise kink) so leave me a comment here if you feel so inclined!

[thethousandyearwitch]

The Show Must Go On! Chap.6

- A Youtuber AU you didn’t want and didn’t need -

Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.

Meanwhile, aspiring australian Twitch Streamer Gon Freecs forms a special bond to a Speedrunner commonly going by "Kil".

Chapter 6 “Blue Sky Athletic” out now!

AO3 Link

The hotel room was quiet, the Italian sun hadn’t risen yet. Illumi sat himself up in bed and started to mindlessly comb through his hair. He had excused himself from the fashion show the previous night as early as he could. Because he couldn’t stand the lights. The music. The smells. The people.

Yet he was going to return the next night. There were contacts to be made, images to be upheld, a new name to be made for himself…

And he didn’t have to be alone.

A single text message to his butler:

“Illumi: Get me the keys to a Mercedes AMG GT Black series and leave me be the rest of the day.”

.

.

.

Killua had run away from home for the first time when he was 10 years old, with the intent to stay away. His father had scolded him about neglecting his studies, and in response he snuck out through his window with a backpack stuffed with a few clothes and snacks. In the end, a butler had caught him before he was able to sneak through the fencing around the large property.

He was undeterred and proceeded to perfect his means of sneaking away from the mansion. By the next summer he was able to consistently make it into town and stay there for an hour or two before a butler eventually found him. Though he wanted to, he never went further than that. Afterall, where was he supposed to go? A young boy traveling without adult supervision would attract attention almost immediately, and it wasn’t like he had friends he could visit (And the risk of running into his father or grandfather when visiting Alluka was too great).

But what if he had a place to go? He was older now, old enough to travel by himself for sure, and money wasn’t a problem as long as his lazy brother would stay blissfully unaware of his credit card expenses. Neither Illumi, his father, nor grandfather were home to surveillance him. Milluki barely registered what happens in and around the mansion. Kalluto was young enough to be bribed and trust his big brother when he tells him to keep quiet.

The setup couldn’t get more perfect. Now or never.

Killua shouted down the hall that he didn’t want dinner, peppered with swears here and there to underline anger, and he told Kalluto that if anyone were to set food in front of his door, he was free to take it for himself or Milluki. His CD player blasted metal music loud enough to give the impression of a moody teen dealing with anger issues, but not too loud as to prompt his mother to come in and turn it off herself.

Another cautionary glance down the hallway before he closed and locked his bedroom door from the inside. Now or Never.

Killua grabbed his pre-packed duffle bag and executed his well-practiced escape via window. His mother would regret the day she removed the bars framing it, foolishly thinking that Killua was ‘grown up’ enough to stop his escape attempts.

A cold breeze grazed his face, and the young boy granted himself a couple of seconds to take it in, wild hair gently swaying in the wind. Of course, he was not going to leave forever. It would only be a matter of time before someone went to retrieve him and lock him back in, chiding him about his ‘responsibilities’ that he couldn’t care less for.

But I won’t make it easy. With that thought, he gave the mansion one last middle-finger, before he quickly turned and headed towards the edge of the property that was closest to town. By now he had the surveillance pattern of the guard dogs memorized and knew exactly where the brick fence was covered by enough ivy to enable easy climbing. Soon enough, Killua was treading through the thick forest in a steady pace. He tried to listen for signs of someone coming after him despite his heart drumming louder in his ears.

Usually he’d be calm, collected, non-caring for breaking out. But this time was different. This time he had a destination in mind, wouldn’t be collected so easily. The grip around his phone tightened. He wondered how long it would take someone in the house to notice. Who would be sent after him; A butler? Would Illumi be called back? His father? How severe will the punishment be-

A branch snapped into the boy’s face, pulling him back from wherever his thoughts were about to wander. The lights of the town became clearer in his sight with every step. It wasn’t a big city by any means, but he didn’t need it to be. All he needed was a cab driver to who accepted credit and didn’t ask question.

In the end, an older cabdriver, he must have been in his sixties already, shrugged carelessly at the request of the young boy to be driven to the airport, mumbled something about rebellious youth and getting paid regardless. Killua discarded the duffle bag into the trunk of the car and sat himself down in the backseat as he fumbled with his phone. The Radio played some repetitious top 40s song about being young and freedom and friendship and following your heart, and he couldn’t help but snort at how grossly it fit.

The sun set against the horizon, the town steadily disappeared behind him, until it was completely out of sight. Every new meter the car cleared was the furthest Killua had ever made it away from home alone.

Ping.

His phones alarm startled Killua out of his thoughts once again. A single discord notification.

GON: Good morning! =v=

The runaway looked through the windshield of the car, in the distance an airport started to come into form.

Kil: morning, did u sleep okay?

GON: Like a baby :p

GON: How’re you?? Did you get your PC back yet?

Kil: about that actually

He handed the driver his/Millukis credit card and lifted his bag over his shoulder. No one ever told him how much to tip a cabby, so he assumed 50% was about right.

Kil: remember how you told me to give you a heads-up if i ever came over so you could clean?

GON: Yeah?

Killua took a quick peace-sign selfie in the large entrance of the airport, in front of the arrival/departure board, and send it promptly in their chat.

Kil: get cleaning.

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Gon paced around the house as if driven mad, he mumbled about preparations, and food, and accommodations, more to himself really than to Mito who sat at the table, gentle smile on her lips.

“Gon, it’ll still be almost an entire day till he gets here. I’m sure he won’t be disappointed. Now remind me again, his parents are really okay with such a spontaneous visit to a virtual stranger across the globe?” Her smile was warm, but her eyes drilled threats into him.

“We’re not virtual strangers! We’ve been talking for months; I probably know him better than any of his siblings!”

“I’d just feel a bit more at ease if I could have talked with his parents in advance. What if he has any illnesses or allergies I’d need to be mindful of? What if there’s an emergency and I need their contact information?”

Instead of admitting that he did not think of all of that, Gon chose to smile with more confidence, “I’ll just make sure there’s no emergencies! I’m not a little kid anymore!” He stepped closer to where she was seated and rested with his arms and head on the table. “He’s a really good friend and hasn’t been feeling well. I think this could be really good for him, and it’s not like I have many other people to hang out with around here. But if you are really that concerned, I promise that he’ll write down his parents’ number and address! So, it’s okay, right?”

The woman sighed in defeat and brushed through Gon’s unruly hair. “You really are a troublemaker with best intentions. Don’t make me regret this.”  The young boy beamed in response and pulled his guardian into a hug. Before he could promise that he wouldn’t, she raised her voice again, “But don’t think this will get you out of studying.”

Gon groaned in agony, though it was quickly followed by another laugh. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“I do, but it doesn’t hurt to be reminded once in a while. Now go fetch the cot from the garage, or do you want your friend to sleep on the floor?”  

With an energetic nod, he sprinted out the room, leaving Mito alone in the room as she tapped her fingernails against her cup of tea. Her eyes wandered to an old picture of Gons father. He’s becoming just like you. She didn’t know if the thought made her want to laugh or cry.

.

.

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Gon was a bundle of nerves the entire drive to the airport. Killua had offered that he’d take a taxi from the airport to Gons home, but Mito insisted that they’d meet at the airport (“Just to be sure, you know?” And Gon didn’t know).

He tapped his fingers at increasing speeds against the interior of the red Subaru XV, and watched as the scenery outside transitioned slowly from deserted dirt roads to busy highways to the even busier parking area of the airport.  

Would Killua even recognize him? Would he be able to recognize Killua? He’d like to think so, but then again, people always said celebrities look different face-to-face than on TV. His heart was beating hard and fast against his chest, but a smile never left his face, strained in anticipation of the best kind.

Mito sat down in a designated waiting area, exhausted from a long drive. She considered asking Gon to sit down as well but disregarded the thought as he fidgeted and started to pace again. Excess energy needs to be let out somehow.

“The plane has already landed, right? Shouldn’t he be here already?” he blurted out, nervously bouncing on his heels.

“He’s probably still waiting for his luggage, things like this take ti-“

“Gon!” Mito got cut off by a voice that shouted his name in such a familiar way, so recognizable that it was almost startling.

He whipped around, and his eyes caught onto the silver hair in the distance immediately. There was Killua. He looked like he had just jumped out of any of the pictures that Gon had ever seen of him, messy hair, bright eyes, pale skin, and a confident yet laidback smile.

It took about 5 seconds before Gon had cleared the distance between them, and he wrapped his arms around the other boy in a big hug. Killua hesitated for a moment, before he returned the hug, and patted Gon on the shoulder.

“It’s really you!”

“Who else could it be?” Killua snorted.

“I don’t know! But it’s still so weird to, just, have you here now!”

They spent what felt like an eternity looking at each other, laughed and giggled and commented on each other’s features, more defined than any picture could do. Killuas eyes sparkled in the low airport light, and Gon tried to burn every detail of his face into his memory, his long eyelashes, the creases of his eyes, and his sharp smile. Everything looked so natural, so right, and Gons heart stumbled over itself.

“So, would you like to introduce your friend to me, Gon?” As Mito spoke up, both boys pulled out of the hug with a jump.

Killua quickly held out his hand and stood straight, “I’m Killua, thank you so much for letting me stay over for a bit, miss. It’s nice to meet you.”

She shook his hand with a giggle. “You can just call me Mito or Auntie, alright? And it’s nice to meet you too, thank you for getting along so well with this little troublemaker.”

Gon felt heat rush to his cheeks but couldn’t bark a complain before Mito ruffled a hand through his hair. “How about we all grab something to eat, and then had home. You must be starving, Killua. Do you like burgers?”

The boys cheered in unison, and the group headed towards a fast-food chain.

And if Gon didn’t notice how easily he and Killua fell into step next to each other, too deeply invested in conversation about flights and food and seemingly the entire world, Mito surely did.

[mothbug]

maggie i’ve been trying to suss out the plot of ur bug lesbians for so long please tell me abt them. somehow it got into my head that they were?? like jaeger pilots? please confirm or deny

i can’t do a read more on mobile so i’m sorry in advance (coming back here after i’ve written this: it makes no sense. it’s all rambling. sorry. and i just put things everywhere randomly so this won’t even be typed chronologically)

yeah there’s giant fun robots! most of them are normal and fine but like a few of them are very fucked up

so there’s four pov characters and at the start of the story three of them are on the same ship and the fourth is the target they’re chasing? only one of them knows they even HAVE a target and is trying her best to stall because she and the target were roommates in fucked up robot catholic school. the other two are playing crazy 8s and being romantic and also terrified all the time but also doing a lot of theorizing about things because they know SOMETHING is up they just don’t know what’s going on. Bc you know. their commander won’t give them any information. and also avoids them because she hates narrative parallelism

also the one stalling is also having her blood drunk by her giant robot. and maybe being mildly possessed by it? so it’s maybe The most fucked up robot. it’s also a giant dog and a good boy. and an heirloom of a fucked up family. which may explain some stuff but honestly i think nisa’s mom was just a bitch and it didn’t have anything to do with the robot she’s just like that.

and she’s stalling bc she Knows she won’t turn perovskia in she knows she wouldn’t let her get hurt she Knows it’ll change her life forever if she finds her and she’s just not ready to face that. but yknow she has to so it was all just very silly of her but when something will change your life dramatically it’s terrifying even if you know that things currently Suck.

somewhere in here Arkansas’s family is threatened and it’s. upsetting. and i’m not sure what direction to go in with it but it will be important because her family means a Lot to her. she has two very good kind dads and a little sister named Tinsel. basically she has the only functional biological family out of all the characters and they make me :’) I also think they eventually meet Idabel and ADORE her and since she grew up without parents it’s just a very strange and emotional experience and. h. they r Wives. and the Trust family is all very sweet and kind even if Arkansas struggles a lot w gifted kid syndrome like i think her dads did their best even if they fucked up sometimes yknow. idabel goes fucking wild at the arcade like legitimately bloodthirsty and arkansas is just like i love my furious and powerful wife

anyway there’s some (a lot of) homoerotic space fighting (which perovskia usually wins BECAUSE she remembers when she and nisa used to spar and can predict what she’ll do. nisa ALSO remembers this bc. ofc she does. but perovskia had to learn how to adapt after Events bc her physical health changed a lot and she had to learn to be more careful about overexerting herself and also now knows how to swordfight. and moves more fluidly and confidently. so what nisa expects to happen often doesn’t bc perovskia’s fighting style has changed so much while nisa hasn’t really bothered to refine hers. anyway) perovskia (the gay little target that does a gay little crime and makes fun of you to piss you off) is like hey. what if you all committed treason it’s really fun and sexy. and then her adoptive mechanic mom gives everyone spinal surgery so their bodies don’t shut down and they won’t die :) that’s a thing by the way i won’t elaborate bc uhh :( but it is why perovskia has all the. nerve damage and chronic pain. i can elaborate on the actual Pre-story perovskia stuff later bc i think about it A Lot and it has a lot of bearing on her character but it’s also. before all this. but anyway if she hadn’t been bleeding out on Slice’s front lawn specifically she Would be dead. and there’s some fun narrative foil character shifts that happen four years before the main storyline but i will not say bc i’m tired

after this is Vague in my mind but a lot of it is Perovskia and Nisa reconnecting and just. talking. but being weird and repressed and deflective about anything Meaningful. And I have written a Lot about this so there’s more than I can condense but it’s very fucking good and. Idk. it’s a big shift in the narrative at this point and they’re just Agonizing about their dumb little feelings and it’s good. and P doing some work to make their giant fucking spaceship more stealthy. and Idabel and Arkansas being really cute and also going THROUGH it because i mean. a lot is happening. And it’s nothing either of them ever expected to happen but they’re like. hopeful for the future or whatever don’t look at me. It’s just like. put all of these characters on a spaceship in the middle of nowhere in transit and they all Have to have conversations even if they don’t want to because it’s HARD. nisa is forced by slice to learn how to make pancakes

Slice makes stew. They’re good at stew and contraptions and having a mild new england accent somehow. also canonically back in the scrapyard they would make things like the knife wielding tentacle constantly and perovskia would just stumble upon them. slice changed the live laugh love sign to say die cry hate because perovskia made fun of it. they r her mom.

so now they do some fun fun robberies and various crimes and it’s so sexy and i don’t think N and P are like. fully caught up at this point or know where they stand, so there’s a lot of very fun banter and having to work together despite really being afraid but also yearning to get to know each other again and just connect with one another honestly and openly after four fuckin years apart. because they’re both so different now but also very much the same. horse staring out into sea MAN. the thing is there’s no direct like. reason for them to avoid each other (at first P was shocked and overwhelmed and felt a little bit betrayed when she found out who was chasing her until she found out WHY. oh i forgot to mention Nisa BEGGED to be assigned commander for this mission bc she knew anyone else wouldn’t hesitate to get Perovskia killed. Forgot to mention that it’s IMPORTANT she fucking loves her so much god DAMMIT) but it’s just. tense and there’s a lot happening and it’s just. Ghhhdhbnm and ofc I and A have picked up on it since P showed up but it’s like. ok so what is Happening here. OH AND ONCE THEY START WORKING THINGS OUT IDABEL DOES START BEHAVING LIKE NISA’S SHITTY LITTLE SIBLING AND ACTING FUCKING DISGUSTED BY THEM ITS VERY FUNNY. they’re like perovskia you’re pretty cool what’s up with this. nisa sucks and also is a bitch. and perovskia says SHE CAN GET IT. and idabel says GET WHAT? BANNED FROM OLIVE GARDEN? and perovskia fans herself and is like yeah~ and idabel was just joking around but now is debating between mercilessly making fun of her and hitting her with a cricket bat. but god when P and N just get to hold each other in silence and security and just be. it’s . they. god. fuck. man.

oh i know this is a space story but perovskia just straight up has a sword (and some knives and maybe a gun idk) don’t ask me why idk but it’s very lesbian of her and she does gay little flourishes and is just. very annoying and i like her a lot. she’s very dramatic like her alias was madame revenant when she was living in the scrapyard and just doing some petty crimes like. she embroidered that jacket herself nobody calls her that she’s just a goofball. also warrior cats exist and she makes warrior cat fan animations. that just has to be true so warriors has been preserved for centuries. also she was presumed dead for a while uhh don’t think abt it too much but she likes that aesthetic.

Idabel takes the best to this new life of crime they are fucking FOR it she gets a FLAMETHROWER and Arkansas is like. wrow honestly my favorite thing abt them is that they’re both fucking INCREDIBLE pilots. like they know what they’re doing. and nisa is really really bad at it btw she cannot pilot a mech well. but this block of text isn’t about her i’m talking about THEM. Their chemistry is so good they r just. 🥺. and they both become Fast friends with perovskia because she’s just pretty likeable?? and ofc nisa’s jealous bc a) you guys don’t even like me :( but also b) that’s MY friend. it’s very funny. honey of course they didn’t like you you were being very unpleasant to be around. but arkansas does rlly wanna be friends with her and she and idabel have so much sibling energy it’s insane. i think they’d abel and cain each other for a scooby snack but also kill for each other. because they’re tiny girls who will growl at you solidarity and also probably hang out and just destroy things with bats sometimes. they all become closer and get a rlly sweet found family dynamic it just takes a While. oh also idabel is basically the chosen one and can set things on fire with her hands but it’s barely touched on because i think that’s a really funny thing to just ignore. but i also think it does become important because it’s largely fueled by anger and emotion and. h. i think idabel has a lot of feelings ok. Arkansas and Perovskia bond over having fucking anxiety disorders and have caprisun drinking competitions. i think it’s just like. these people all have similar trauma and need people to lean on when things are hard so they stick with each other once they have the option to split apart because by then they’re friends and work well together and Care. auto tuned baby crying mp3.

Alia and Agent Variety show up somewhere around here? They’re Slice’s very cool wives and Alia has a Vechicle Collection and own fucking stupid race cars and stuff and I love her. perovskia is afraid of being in vechiles so she has to take a fucking benadryl every time they have to make a getaway. Variety isn’t actually an Agent anymore and I also love HER because she’s very fucking good. they started out as just contacts slice had but it turns out they’re all in love <3 alia is also actually a sports car racer like. unprofessionally. illegally. which is just very cool of them.

Also i don’t think it has. a very BIG end, yknow? it’s like, they’re doing very good things and are up against a lot, and I don’t think they like.. singlehandedly take down the government or anything because they’re only a few people. but i think they get a happy ending and get to grow old while making positive changes to the world around them. like i don’t think they’ll be able to solve everything but they’re sure as hell gonna do what they can. But idk maybe they actually do get like. some good shit done. but again they’re not. an army. they’re a bunch of 20-somethings and their rube-goldberg-machine-creating chaperone. but i think they should get a fun climactic moment so i guess this is all to say i don’t. have an ending planned. but there should probably be one at some point.

OH AND the giant evil blood sucking dog vineyard vines robot Definitely almost kills Nisa (or at least fully destroys her in some way) and. it’s very narrowly avoided and she’s very very weak for a while because it took a lot out of her. also the dog robot does make grape vines grow and uhhhh any grapes that show up are 100% full of the pilot’s siphoned blood. also i think there’s still some remnants of that bitch in nisa’s mind afterwards bc an old mechanical god is hard to get rid of. but it’s mostly ok.

Also the bug people are just. a thing. like every person in the most recent generation in this specific society are at least a little bit genetically experimented on because. it sucks there. and i think if your parents bribe the government you can be a little Less fucked up but yknow. everyone’s a little weird. this was an excuse to put bug ppl in here they’re just the folks who were probably the most fucked with and i have many bug people here because i think bugs are cool and i want them to look like weird little bugs. This was all also an excuse to give the main characters fangs bc i’m gay. i don’t think randomly fucking with your genetics will make you a bug in real life so do not try this at home or at all PSA

SPEAKING of the society ok it’s very much obsessed with earth nostalgia and stuff and very yknow. basic cyperpunk shitty capitalism you know the drill you’ve seen space operas whatever but it’s also weirdly oligarchical? and like? it’s weird and bad and kind of a corporatocracy?? and. fuck. idk man they’re a fucked up space catgirl greeble-y amazon with catholic imagery. The Academy is also a thing but. idk how to describe it more than i already have it’s just kinda shitty boarding school. And after a certain point ppl can get sent on like. missions and stuff? in their fucking robots? but again i’m not sure what For. an option could be that there’s nearby Shit and nobody can tell if it’s safe because space is weird? also it’s only about 3200 so i’d say like. whole societies out in space is a relatively new thing and there’s some weird shit going on. so they sometimes send teenagers out in robots to see what’s up and that ends SUPER well for EVERYONE. hmm something SHOULD be going on actually there should be some weird eldritch space stuff. it should be connected to the more fucked up robots. it should also be Core’s fault somehow because uhhh capitalism and lack of foresight? anyway here’s women kissing i don’t know things. WAIT FUCK I FORGOT TO MENTION HOW SHADY SOME OF THE STUFF GOING ON IS LIKE THE DEATHS OF THE CREW PEROVSKIA WAS ON UHHH JUST TRUST ME DUDE like they are NOT afraid to get kids killed which was IMPLIED but also like it goes a little deeper than that and uhh i don’t know exactly what’s happening. but i’m sure it’ll all fall into place eventually. basically it’s very fatt shitty faction vibes idk how else to describe it. man it‘s like. just. there’s stuff happening they have goals and ideals and there’s probably more to it than i know so far bc stuff happens but i don’t KNOW what i’m tired and have been typing this for a year i don’t want to talk abt the bad capitalists i want to talk about tenderness and girls but unfortunately the ways in which the girls are tender are deeply informed by the environment they grew up in so i do have to think about it even if they all deserved better.

i think they all get a cat or a dog or something eventually. like they all deserve it. i think the final home they build together is actually pretty reminiscent of the scrapyard house. i think they get to live there for the rest of their lives and. just build something small and wonderful for themselves :’)

also i forgot to put men in the story they exist i just forgot about them. there’s nisa’s one ex i already forgot his name but he’s mentioned i think.

[not-a-perfect-metaphor]

Well, I deleted this original answer (and then deleted it again as a post...and then deleted it one more time after that), so here it is for a fourth time with a screenshot of the original ask, and LET US HOPE that I can manage to see it through to completion.

This ask has taken me quite a bit of time and thought, because what I’m hoping to give you is a summary that helps you to better understand without being too overwhelming/containing way too much information.

First, thank you so much for reaching out, and I’m really glad you did! The point you’re at right now (or the point you were at when you sent this anyway) is where every single one of us started, and it’s an amazing journey from here if you find yourself wanting to take it! Seeking out resources from others is absolutely the way to go about it, and I hope that you always feel free to ask me (and other tinhats) for any info/thoughts/anything you need in the future! I can’t seem to include links in-post, but I’m going to message you a link to Speak the Truth, a site documenting J2 ‘happenings’ so to speak from a tinhat’s perspective through the year 2011. And, basically, whether someone’s been a tinhat from day one or for one day, we all have different pieces of the puzzle, and that’s really why it’s so important for us to connect with each other and work together as a whole.

So, let me try to figure out where to begin.

I, like quite a few other tinhats I’ve spoken with over the years actually, didn’t put much stock into any of this when it first started to emerge. People fantasizing about two celebrities having a romantic relationship (especially two leads in a movie or a TV show and especially when those leads are of the same sex) is far from a new thing and has been going on forever, and naturally I assumed in the beginning that J2 tinhats were no different. Had I not actually looked into all of it further and eventually then started really paying attention to the comings and goings of Jared & Jensen/watching all the footage I could find/reading the interviews/seeking out candid photos etc., I might not have ever changed my views, and it still took me quite a while to fully come around to where I am now even with all that.

What caused me to start looking more deeply in the first place was the simple fact that Jared & Jensen, even during the still-fledgling days of their relationship (however you happen to define that relationship), had a very unique and pretty immediate closeness that separated them distinctly from everyone else.

***As an aside, like I always bring up, most Wincest shippers were born from that intense J2 chemistry that bled into the characters of Sam & Dean.

The Js had clearly connected on a deep level that they not only spoke about openly from the beginning but that was also more than evident in the ways they interacted with each other, looked at each other, talked to each other, and even just existed in each other’s spaces (they even shared and share clothing and have freely admitted that).

Jared: “It didn’t feel like a blind date. It felt like we were continuing a relationship. There’s no rhyme or reason to what happened.”

They’ve also frequently phrased things like that *points up,* using very couple-y terminology.

(note: speaking of couple-y terminology, they’ve been heard calling each other “babe” and “baby” on several different occasions)

They’ve always had the kind of body language with each other that you really don’t see often in non-platonic relationships and that you especially don’t see often between two actors who’s paths have crossed initially in a purely work-related setting, and it was that special intimacy between them that first sparked my curiosity.

Let’s take a very brief look at just a few of those examples (a mix of the early years and beyond):

And below I’m including an example of the clothes-sharing I mentioned:

My curiosity expanded VERY rapidly (almost explosively) from that point onward as I began to dive more heavily into ‘J2-research.’

Like I said above, I’m not going to overload this post with specifics (although I’m happy to send specifics to you by the boatload if you’re interested), but I will just wrap up this first part of my answer by saying that it was the candid J2 moments I came across that really started to sell me on the possibility of a non-platonic J2 dynamic, the pictures and footage where they didn’t know they were being recorded or photographed, largely during the earlier years when they weren’t as cautious, but certainly not limited to those years, pictures/footage in which they interacted with each other in ways that I certainly would not interact with someone I wasn’t romantically involved with or at least romantically interested in).

Here are a couple of well-known examples. Less intense than some choice video clips (that I’ll have to find a way to post in the future) but still beautiful and intimate. I actually just posted that first one a few hours ago!

-which ‘arguably’ could depict the body language of two very close platonic friends (more so than the first photo, above it, anyway), but...look more closely at the giddy, love-struck expression on Jensen’s face as he watches Jared:

It’s kinda a bit harder to call it platonic when you really see it like that....

And...gosh, I poured over so many of these moments, just...so, so many.

Even then, though, I wasn’t necessarily convinced of the fact that the two were together in any kind of serious way. I, like this blog’s first owner, co-owner (who became a tinhat almost right alongside me, actually, time-wise) felt that the Js were certainly at least not strictly straight, quite possibly that they weren’t at all straight, and that they were definitely attracted to each other, an attraction that had likely yielded physical results, but I had no reason to think at that point that they would go to the great lengths (and put themselves through the unimaginable hardships) of leading such intricately and immensely false lives, at great personal expense, if they were actually in a serious, romantic relationship with each other that they both felt would be long-term.

Not when it was almost 2008 (at the time) and being a gay celebrity wasn’t anything to even bat an eye at anymore...right?

But I still had a lot to learn back then.

The next ‘milestone’ for me, upon looking even more closely (and not just at the Js anymore but at those around them/in their circle/etc., not to mention the Js lives pre-meeting each other, just all kinds of stuff) came the discovery(discoveries) of the many inconsistencies, which I’ll explain further, that were ultimately at the heart of my transition from on-the-fence to full tinhat.

A good example to use, because most people have at least some knowledge of this, centers around the period of time that the Js publicly lived together and the many...many different stories that were told explaining their living arrangement. I actually posted a pretty humorous account detailing some of it, and I can link you to it if you’d like. That’s just one example of many, but perhaps it’s the example with the most number of slip-ups/cases of the Js forgetting the details of the lie/etc.

To briefly cover one of those “living together” slip-ups, at separate meet-and-greets, Jensen once told people that he had moved out of Jared’s house while Jared said that Jensen was very much still living with him. And that’s probably the least suspicious but the easiest to quickly explain of the slips.

Another example, from later on (that I’m using because, again, it’s one that people are generally aware of) is when Jared told a story about being out to dinner in Italy with his wife and accidentally flipping off the waiter and then Jensen retold the exact same story at another con, only that time, he was the one who’d been with Jared.

Once I knew to look for them, I was blown away by how often these kinds of inconsistencies had already occurred and continued to occur, things being covered-up or overly-explained, stories changing sometimes three or more times in ways too significant to be excused away as memory lapses, even attempts at erasing things altogether...which doesn’t work very well in the age of the interwebz.

And why...why would these cover-ups and excuses and erasures exist if there was nothing to hide?

•••••••••

Retracing my steps for a moment to talk a little about the Js lives prior to meeting each other, which was one of the other things I’d started looking into by this point and definitely played an important part in confirming my tinhat beliefs.

The first example that comes to mind is Jensen’s ex-roommate (and just ex, period, at least that’s what I personally think), Ty Vaughn, the one underneath Jensen in this photo:

And I’ve spent a good 24 hours trying to track down footage I once had of Chad Michael Murray teasing young Jared about flirting with him (to Jared’s extreme embarrassment), but I cannot find it ANYWHERE. If anyone reading this can help me out, I would be forever in your debt.

Other noteworthy things (just a few): An ex-girlfriend of Jensen’s has admitted that she used to beard for someone, and her only celebrity ex is Jensen, and a few of Jared’s teachers from high school have expressed surprise that he’s married now to a woman...so, make of that what you will!

•••••••••

Okay, back to the inconsistencies!Another big one for me has always been the Js saying “we” or “us” (and meaning each other) when, according to public knowledge, it should have been “I” or “me.”

(as well as other synonyms of the above like “our”)

“We got to spend some time with our family yesterday.”

“They were knocking on our trailer.”

etc. etc.

And on the exact opposite end of the spectrum...also ironically what continues to fuel my certainty that the Js are together even more than the “we”-and-“us”-isms: the separation-of-the-Js tactic (varying in severity/frequency), sometimes for an evening or even a single event, sometimes for lonnng stretches of time, but always very suspicious, because, like I’ve been saying for this entire time, everyone knows that Jensen and Jared are extremely close, even those who believe that their closeness isn’t sexual or romantic. What I’m referencing with ‘separation of the Js,’ by the way, is what many tinhats believe to be the PR tactic used to paint pictures of the Js as being much less involved in each other’s lives to (in theory) control rumors. But the Js’ are and always have been intrinsically interconnected, so the reason that J2 separate narratives feel so forced and unnatural, often cringingly so, is because they kinda directly violate who Jensen and Jared are as people with each other, and if anything, that’s likely caused some new tinhats to come aboard, but it certainly hasn’t succeeded in convincing anyone who’s already a believer that they must have just been mistaken all along.

And I should definitely mention the suuuper-duper weirdness surrounding Jensen and Jared’s respective engagements and then weddings, as well as the information, or lack of information in Jared and Genevieve’s case, that was presented to the public about both ‘courtships,’ because almost every single aspect of all of that was drenched in tinhatty suspiciousness right from the start and all the way through. Again, I can link you to posts that detail the topic thoroughly, but to summarize very generally: Jared and Jensen, in leu of increasing rumors about the nature of their relationship, even more so in recent months than had previously been the case, were most likely counseled to straight-en up their images drastically, and fast...the only real way people can do that, by marrying members of the opposite sex (pretty much simultaneously, by the way, & much to the startled disbelief of many, including a very-public-about-his-skepticism Ted Casablanca).

Ted: “Jensen and Jared would sooner marry each other than who they’re currently rumored to be getting hitched to.”

Alright. Yikes. I’m really slipping here with my “not too many details” plan. I’ll start reigning it in again, I promise.

So, around the same same time as the weddings was when I started researching the practice of bearding (fauxmances) in the entertainment business in general, although not as heavily as I’ve researched the topic in recent years, and what I discovered and continue to discover was and is both eye-opening and heart-breaking. I actually just posted about this a couple of days ago, so instead of rambling on about it again, I’ll refer you to that (under the tag ‘toxic industry stuff’ for anyone reading this in the future). A quick summary: the reality that Jensen & Jared face every day and the decisions they’ve made to enter into false marriages are tragically common in the industry....yes, even and especially in today’s age, and for many gay actors and actresses specifically, the choice can really come down to either living honestly or protecting their careers/livelihoods/even their true relationships should they have them.

Since then, I’ve come across a lot of information as well about personal reasons, alongside industry reasons, that might have played a role in the decision to go the route of bearding for Jensen and Jared, like family history, their relationships with/views on/obstacles surmounted to succeed in (etc.) acting as a career, past experiences that have been hinted at, parental influence and sacrifice, not to mention the significant detail of who they happen to play on SPN...brothers (far too many ignorant people out there wouldn’t be able to move past the incest connotation, if a romantic relationship between the Js had been revealed).

By about midway through 2009, I was 100% convinced of the fact that Jared and Jensen were absolutely in a long term relationship that I would guess began around season two of Supernatural but had been on its way since the end of season one and during the hiatus between seasons one and two (want to know why I think that? I’ll do a separate post on it), and that the relationship was, of course, being hidden from the public.

The things that ultimately convinced me as they kept adding up are what continue to convince people today, the same things I’ve been going over at length (too much length) in this answer: intimacy between Jared & Jensen that extends beyond friendship-

-inconsistency in the information presented to the public that revolves around J2 and their time together/circumstances relating to both of them/etc., Jared and Jensen’s respective pasts before meeting each other, and even what some people believe to be hints dropped by Jared and Jensen themselves about their true relationship.

A well-known example (again, among many) that I’ve talked about pretty extensively is Jensen posting a photo in front of a mural that reads “love is love,” a well-known LGBT slogan, and then Jared posting a photo of himself in front of a mural that reads “love will win” on the very same day and captioning it “every time.”

This did turn out to be pretty overwhelming *sighs* but I hope at the very least I’ve succeeded in giving you a somewhat clearer idea of why us tinhats feel the way we do about Jared and Jensen, and I want to encourage you again to reach out whenever you like about anything you’d like to know!

There’s no such thing as a dumb question, and there’s no such thing as too many questions.

Just remember that! ❤️

[lokidyke]

cw genital mention, discussion of dysphoria, discussion of sex, a very personal post in general

i've been thinking a lot lately. actually, not even a lot, but whenever i think about it, my thoughts hold heavy weight to them. i've been thinking about my gender, my body, and how i want to be perceived in the world. and i just don't know how i feel about it anymore.

overall i've come to the conclusion that i just... don't want to be seen. it's not even like "i just want to exist", i just don't want to be seen right now because i don't know how i want to be seen. i don't know how i want to exist and navigate the world.

i started questioning my gender when i was in high school, like many of you. since my gender intertwines tightly with my sexuality, i'll talk about that too. for my sexuality, i knew i liked girls when i was in middle school. i turned my head, looked over to one of my dearest friends in the world, and realized just HOW pretty she was. my heart felt like it froze. my brain said to me, "well, i'm bi." i don't think i'll ever forget that moment. it sparked a huge journey for me that doesn't even feel complete yet. maybe it never will.

i thought i was bi for a really long time. i didn't realize i was a lesbian until i started in college, so we'll get there when we get there.

i think it was freshman year when one of my friends asked me out. he was a boy. he had asked out every girl he had ever befriended, and after me, he went on to ask out more and more, until we were seniors and he was dating freshman. he gave off a goofy, immature vibe, so we never questioned it, but looking back, i should've told him how inappropriate that was. i have no idea where he is now. we were the same age, and he asked me out in the library, where we were surrounded by all our friends. he quieted everyone down before he asked me. again, looking back now, that seems like a manipulation tactic to pressure me into saying yes, as to not embarrass him in front of my friends. so i did, i said yes, and we effectively dated for an hour and a half. after leaving the library, he walked me to my locker before class, and asked for a kiss before we left for each of our classes. i gave him one.

even that quick peck made such a disgusting, slimy, steely feeling immediately rush down my body like painful electricity. i thought maybe it was because i just didn't like him. i never figured it was because i just didn't like boys. i couldn't think straight through that entire period, all i thought of was how bad that felt, about how i needed to get out of whatever relationship he expected from me. after class ended, i left the room and he was waiting for me. i immediately broke up with him, trying to be as gentle and apologetic as i could. i think he was very used to rejection, and wouldn't take it as a deterence, so he actually took the breakup quite gracefully. onto the next one, i suppose. i didn't care. i was just glad to be rid of him.

after that, i started thinking about my gender. i looked on youtube for any videos in regards to both trans women and trans men's experiences. i don't think i was questioning my gender at the same time as my fascination began, i just wanted to know everything i could about the T in lgbt. after that was when i heard about nonbinary identities, and read into them. i ended up jumping around from label to label during my experimental phase, but we'll get to that in a second. very similarly to my bisexual revolution, i read over the definition of demigirl, and thought, "yep, that's me." i ended up returning to that label for a brief time when i first discovered i was a lesbian, but that would quickly fade away when i began clinging to the label in terms of every way to describe my identity. sexuality, gender, self. lesbian.

during high school, i of course went through what some may call a "soft boy" period, but i never identified as a trans man. only different forms of nonbinary. agender, genderfluid, agenderflux. all sorts of words that allowed me to experiment with who i was. i was grateful for that allowance of experimentation without too much pressure to commit. for a while, i went by strictly they/them pronouns. "she" felt like someone fumbling to fit a key into the lock and never quite getting it to fit. "he" felt a bit attractive, but warped. i liked masculine terms such as prince, "soft boy", and even just... boy in general. a young boy. never "he". never a man.

this faded away again once i graduated high school. again i wasn't sure who i was, and just settled on bi demiwoman. getting into college, i discovered compulsory heterosexuality. i read up as much as i could from how lesbians described it, and my third revaluation hit me: "that's me. i'm a lesbian."

finally i felt like i was home. i had wanted to be a lesbian so bad, for so long, but didn't know i just... could be. i never connected the dots of my experience to the lesbian experience. but i was finally able to, and i was finally home. i'm a lesbian.

again, demiwoman still fit for me, as i had read about the nonbinary lesbian experience as well. still, even with going by a technically nonbinary identity, i never thought i was actually nonbinary. i identified too closely with my gender assigned at birth. i couldn't be nonbinary until i refused it.

but it's more complex than that, and i understand that now. being a woman for me is... dysphoric. not for being a woman in itself, but for existing as a woman who exclusively loves other women. a woman who lives under the patriarchy. a woman who is told everywhere and by everyone that i was never and will never fully be a woman. even "gay is okay!" liberals look at lesbians as a watered down version of womanhood. i know they do, i can feel it. it's such an alienating feeling.

i think that's why i feel stuck now. i'm a woman, a lesbian woman, and those two are so interconnected that i could never be one without the other. i could never be a woman if i wasn't a lesbian. never.

but under the patriarchy, under the gaze of men, i feel insecure. i feel lesser-than. i feel like "woman" is an identity i will constantly be clamoring for, always just out of reach. i don't fit the mold, i can't reach the standard.

i don't shave my legs. i shave under my arms much less frequently than other women may. i rarely wear makeup, and when i do, i've abandoned using foundation. my hair is short, and i get it cut by barbers. they raised the price at my barbers by three dollars for "women's cuts" once i started going there.

i love women. god, i love women so much. all that put together makes me an outsider. even when i wear dresses, tights, and put on lipstick, i am still an "other". i feel it, and it feels like everyone must know it. they can see through me. "you're not a real woman."

and yet, i'm assigned female at birth! they know i'm a woman, they glare at my huge chest, they see my curves, and yet they see me and think "do better. put in some effort." i hate it.

this summer i felt what i can only describe as dysphoria. i wore my bikini top and swim trunks into the pool, swimming alone. it was a pool party, consisting of a mix of my family and step family. i was out of sight of most of them, and yet, when i lied on my back in the water, with only my stomach and very large breasts poking out of the water, i felt it. i felt like i had to run, and hide myself. i wanted to cover myself and not look another person in the eyes for at least a week. i didn't want men to look at my chest, or even have the chance to. i hate it. i find my chest can be presented in such a sexy way, i've seen it, i want women to see it and feel hot from looking at it. but that's not an option. men linger, and men prey. other women, straight women, they look away, finding the mix of my cleavage and unshaven legs a disgusting, frankenstein-like mish-mash.

i watched contrapoints' video about dysphoria and related a bit. i thought about what she said in that one scene, imitating a female partner and herself pre-transition.

"why won't you fuck me?" "i don't want to." "why?" "it makes me feel like a man." "but you are a man." "well, i don't want to be."

i'm not a man, either. and yet there's always been this lingering sexual question throughout the years.

in my fantasies, i have a penis. when i use pornography to satisfy my needs, i love to be from the perspective of someone with a penis. i fantasize all on my own about the famous women i crush on being gentle yet dominate with me and my penis.

but i never want to be a man. i never identified with MEN. i don't want a man's penis, and i don't even really want a penis in general. it's a fantasy, and yet it feels so tightly woven in with my sexuality. it's what i like, what i fantasize about. and yet, i can't imagine topping a girl with a strap on. it feels too foreign. too dominate. not my style. in the streets, i'd defend any woman i love, any friends i care about, with as much un-lady like, rowdy screaming, insulting, and fighting as needed. but in the sheets, i want to be taken care of.

the idea of being penetrated is still terrifying to me. i think once i have my first sexual encounter, and am penetrated, perhaps that penis fantasy will fall away, and i will understand that penetration doesn't hurt, and isn't something a woman offers to a man to please him, but something beautiful that two women can partake in in order to please both parties, and even especially the one being penetrated.

it's so confusing. i feel so fucked up by men and their worldview of gender and sex. they truly established themselves in my life as the final judge of all these things, and yet, i'll never encounter one in a way in which he'll judge my naked body and tell me who i am. all i have are the eyes of other men, in my family, the ones in the grocery store, the ones who teach me; they silently decide who i am, and how i'm not living up to the standard.

so i feel i can never be who i am. NO, i feel like who i am is below the standard of everyone else for the same concept. and so, womanhood is distilled from me by strangers. it makes me sit at home alone and feel like a stranger to myself. it makes me feel like other woman can never see me how i want to be seen, or love me how i want to be loved.

and yet... i don't know how i want to be seen. i don't know how i want to be loved.

that's the problem.

*t/e/r/f/s, r/a/d/f/e/m/s, gen/der cr/it folks don't interact*

[benbarnesescape]

You Make Me Wanna

Billy Russo x Curvy PoC

Warnings: Just sweet, sweet fluff

A/N: So I wrote this inspired by a few people but I want to dedicate it to my beautiful @xgminigypsy . She writes a blog for women who are curvy and beautiful and we just don’t see enough of that on Tumblr. I generally try to keep things ambiguous for my writing on this blog but for this instance, the reader is going to be of color and curvy and wonderful. I am not doing this to shame anyone but to add to the diversity of female characters that I write about it (I do apologize if my writing feels alienating to someone who doesn’t identify as female or heterosexual – its not that I don’t support it just not what I write)  

Special shout out to @binsbonsadoration and @thesandbetweenmytoes for always bringing me back to my first love Ben – they know the Sebastian/Ben/Chris struggle I am have been combatting and they always know how to re-inspire

In this AU, just to remind le folks, he’s not a backstabbing murder douche and he’s still a dick but in the most adorable way you love a man who’d look like Billy and be completely and head over heels for you.

Also this will be in 2 Parts

He would never admit it out loud, let alone to you, but he absolutely loved weddings. He liked the way it felt when he first entered the ceremony part of a wedding, taking in all the care and attention and detail it took from the decorations to the music. Liked the way people seemed to be super excited as they found their seats, chatting along with strangers they normally wouldn’t as they impatiently waited for the activities to begin. Loved watching bridesmaids walk down the aisle, leading up the grand entrance of the bride. He loved that. Loved watching the joy and pride and pure love that filled a room when bride makes eye contact for the first time with her groom and the groom sees his bride.  

He loved afterwards leading to the reception, cocktails hour and dancing. Food that tasted a bar above a frozen delicacy and rich, delicious wedding cake. Waving the happy couple off and tipsily heading home, hoping one day to capture the feeling that only a wedding could capture and make you feel.

He just loved weddings.

Of course, he never let you know that. Not because he was ashamed, or held a secret guilt to weddings.

But because you hated them.

You hated everything that he was so curious to explore and know – from the planning all the way down to the end of the night. You were there for the party – sure, anyone in their right mind liked a good party. It was the sense of obligation attached to the partying, the expectation and duties that came along with being in a wedding.

He knew your view of weddings were shaded. While he had attended many of the ceremonies as a guest – you had always been in them. You knew what it was like to deal with tense, stressed out brides and parent in laws and bridesmaids who didn’t feel like they were getting enough attention even though it wasn’t their day. The downfall of being such a social creature and the worse of it was that despite wanting to say no you never could, feeling morally obligated to the friend who had thought of you and asked.

This time had been no different.

As he sat down in his seat, his eyes looking for you desperately, he could feel Frank and Maria moving to sit by his side, Frank chuckling as he asks,

“You know, she’s in the wedding party. So she most likely isn’t going to be around until this thing gets started.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he directs his attention to Frank, answering swiftly,

“I know that, I was just looking.”

“It’s a bit odd right. Madani getting married. Never took her for the type.”

Billy chuckles as he digs through his phone, double checking to see if you’d responded to his text as he thought back to his ex and ironically your newfound best friend Dinah. Dinah Madani wasn’t the kind of woman that got married in churches. Much like you, he didn’t figure much that she’d get married at all. But when she had met David two years back, something had shifted in her – that wild, cynical fire finally tamed. He was able to get her to relax, to take a breather and now they were having a big uptown wedding, in a big cathedral followed by the reception of the century to be hosted in a swanky, posh venue that was probably way overpriced.

“So now that begs the question - when are you and Y/N going to have one of these? You both have been together forever. I know you love her – would move mountains for her. Know for a fact she loves you just as much. What’s the delay? Out of the group, its just you too. Even Curtis is getting hitched this summer.”

Frank Castle wasn’t much of a sentimentalist. In fact, the ex-marine turned mechanic really opened up to Maria, his wife when it came down to it. Except he loved being a father figure when it came to love. Love made him just as sappy as weddings did for Billy and Billy especially hated it when Frank brought it up. Frank loved you – loved the two of you together and was constantly pushing Billy to push the question. Like now. Billy frowns, shifting in his seat uncomfortably as he debates his next words.

“She doesn’t want to get married.”

He decides on the truth. Never gone that route before.

“Really? Y/N? She’s been in like…a million of these things. I feel like you’re usually stag the few hours to each one because literally every wedding I have gone to she is part of the wedding party. How, how could someone who is in so many weddings hate them?”

Billy shrugs as Maria comments, looking away from her purse quick enough to say,

“Y/N does it because she loves her friends but she doesn’t believe in the institution of marriage. She has this weird belief its what kills most relationships in her family so she’s trying not to curse it for herself.”

She shoots Frank a warning glance that he pointedly ignores before she returns back to digging for whatever she’s looking for in her bag and Frank raises a brow, shaking his head.

“Well….there you go. You ever talk to her about it?”

“No.”

“You ever gonna talk to her about it.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Frank was his best friend. He loved him. He would do anything for him. But he hated when he prodded. Knew he couldn’t help it, especially with the people he cared about. But Billy was trying to process what Maria had just told him, thinking back to every conversation and interaction that he has ever had with you. This was new for him – you never had admitted this to him. It was the one area that you weren’t honest in, ducking out the conversation before addressing it head on. But the more he thought about it, the more it checked out.

You were terrified of commitment. Had broken out in hives for a week after he had asked you to move in with him. He had always thought it was a reflection of him but now as he thought back on it, thinking through your own relationship with your parents, it made sense.

You had a weird superstitious ideology despite the fact you were a neurologist. The few instances where science and believes overlapped.

“Leave him alone Frank. Besides the wedding is about to start.” Maria’s voice interjects and right on cue music plays, and Billy is able to get distracted, thinking back to you.

Wedding’s pulled out your bad habits. And it was because the whole fanfare was one stressor after the other.

The morning had been a smooth transition for Dinah but a fucking hurricane for you. Because you couldn’t even be a bridesmaid for this wedding, no, you had to be best goddamn friends with the bride and thus her Bitch of Honor. Maid of honor. However you wanted to label the slave title. You had to wake up at 5 so you could work out to proactively combat the anxiety, before picking up your dress and Dinah’s at the dry cleaners. You had to rush to her room to wake her up, get her ready for her pre-wedding brunch as bridesmaids all gathered in the room, gossiping and talking to each other happily without a goddamn care in the world.

After brunch and mimosas (really just a lot of mimosas) there was hair for everyone and then a quick reprieve where you had to double check that everyone had their bloody shit together (which they didn’t) and then get started on make-up before making sure everyone was dressed. That was all between making sur the photographer was on time, double checking the decorations for the venue space with the wedding planner, grabbing the flowers for everyone, talking down the father of the bride and the groom and then getting ready all before five. Then sitting in Manhattan traffic on a bloody Saturday afternoon before finally piling into the church.

You had received one text from Billy, the few words etched in your mind,

You will survive today. And at the end of it, we can take a bath and cuddle all you want. I love you

That was all you wanted now. You just wanted Billy, a large glass of Chardonnay and a bathtub. And if he wanted to have mind blowing sex to numb your brain from this day, then that would be even better.

Right now you couldn’t have any of that so instead you’ve dipped away from the loud space, the drunk people getting to you more than you would like to admit as you find safety in the outside garden, the dim lights shielding you from everyone else. You dig in your purse satchel, finding the rolled up joint that you had made two days earlier as Billy teased you about being high at the wedding, and your lighter before walking toward the water fountain that was so hidden off in the shadows no one could find you.

Your anxiety was at its height and you just needed a few hits, something to calm down your nerves so you could make it through the rest of the night. Survive wearing this tight fucking dress that Dinah had sweet talked you into wearing, the corset you had cinched on effectively killing your circulation and your sure a few ribs. Finally find Billy and have a good time with him without feeling guilty about dodging his inquiries about weddings and marriages.

You light up the joint, bringing the thick paper to your lips before you take a long drag, allowing the smoke to fill your lungs and you can already feel yourself relax as you sit on the bench across from the peaceful fountain, watching the water fly into the air and then into darkness in the safety of moonlight.

It’s here you can finally give into your insecurity, the reason why your anxiety has been skyrocketing for the past week. The real reason you hated weddings.

You loved yourself. You truly did. You loved every dimpled curve of your skin, every dip of cellulite, every jiggly perfection that the world thought otherwise. You loved that Billy had things to grab whenever he so desired, that in the winter time you could stay warmer because of the extra weight and that you made v-neck shirts your bitch because of the blessing of cleavage. You loved that your skin wasn’t pale, that it had color and life and fucking glowed in the summer time, like you were an Amazon goddess. It had taken you years to get to where you were and you confidently owned how you had defined yourself.

But despite all this, despite the therapy and love you had in your life, you still couldn’t get the small voice out from the back of your mind.

No one will ever want to marry you – you are unworthy of another man’s love.

Your mom was loving. She was kind and thoughtful and, on the surface, was a good woman. But she had inner demons that were dark and pitiful, and she projected her self-worth onto you. She was curvy like yourself, even bigger, and had never embraced that these were the genetics that were given to her. Instead, she was spiteful, angry – and she took it all out on you.

You took another long drag, shaking your head. You knew Billy wanted to get married. His eyes shone whenever he saw the pretty embossed letters come into the mail, an indicator of another wedding. He tried to hide it, but you knew he secretly loved weddings. You knew he’d probably be an ideal groom if you ever planned one. No – he couldn’t be excited about doing the dishes, or putting the toilet seat down, or cleaning up his beard hairs that he would trim into the scratchy shadow that you lived for – no, he’d have to be good at the one thing you just didn’t want.

“So this is where you went off too.”

You jump, coughing hoarsely as you turn to see Billy slowly prancing down the stairs, his hands in both of his pockets, tie loosened with a large smile on his face.

“Goddamit Billy – you scared me.”

He chuckles as he nears you, easily finding a seat near you, his body pressing against yours.

“That was not my intention luv. What are you doing out here?”

You roll your eyes as you hand him your joint and he smiles, grabbing it easily from your fingers before taking a puff,

“Thought you’d at least share. You know I like Dinah and David but goddamn is she marrying into a pretentious bunch.”

You laugh, your head falling onto his shoulder as you weave your arm within his and give a contented sigh.

“Tell me about it. I’ve been stuck with the lot of them for months.”

He hands you back your joint before placing a small kiss on your forehead, squeezing your hand and you both sit there in silence, content to finally be in the presence of each other. It’s only a few minutes before he asks,

“What’s on your mind luv bug?”

You shrug, taking another long drag as you debate your next words. But your high and relaxed, your senses consumed by the marijuana and Billy and you decide to let down your wall.

“Why do you want to marry me?”

The words take him off guard, unaccustomed with you addressing something you find so important and he pulls away enough before saying,

“Do you really want to know?”

That was the thing you loved the most about Billy. That he wasn’t a bullshiter. That while he understood that the world operated in a place of grey, you could be upfront and honest with him. And he would do the same.

“You know I do. Why else would I ask it?”

“Easy then. Because when I am with you – I am complete. Not in that nostalgic Shakespearian way – no. You know how to challenge me. To make me look at the world with a different perspective. You are the sun in my world, the Venus to my soul. Before I met you all I knew was the lie behind love. But you show me that though love, like everything in this world, can be tainted, there’s always a flicker of hope that makes it pure. You make me pure. You make me want to be a better man despite all my instincts. I want to be a better man because I want to make you proud.”

You hadn’t expected him to have an answer, or the strong conviction behind his words. It takes you off guard, and you feel your chest tighten as you pull away and look at him.

Getting Billy to tell you he loved you like had been trying to get a five year old to give up candy after they had a taste. He was stubborn and had told you plenty of times that he didn’t feel like he needed to voice it in order for you to know.

It wasn’t until you had broken down and cried within one of those fights, admitting you just needed to hear it to be self-assured that he made it a point to tell you every day.

He was just too damn good for you.

That is what you think now as his dark eyes observe you seriously, even with just the moon and the small lights flickering in the intimate space. He’s watching you carefully, his hands tightened around your own and you shake your head as you fall back on his shoulder.

Because Billy was always honest with you and this was the one thing you had hid from him and that compared with the overwhelming feeling of love makes you feel ashamed. He allows you to silently stew in your brain, not saying a thing for a good five minutes. And then you finally whisper out,

“I don’t think I deserve to be loved by you and I’m afraid if I marry you, you’ll realize it too.”

The words hit him hard, like a shot to the chest because of all the reasons why he suspected you hated marriage, this was the last thing he could imagine. Even more so – you were the most confident women he had ever known – it was intimidating sometimes your confidence, so he doesn’t know how to navigate through this.  He feels your tears stain his shirt, the way you try to fight back the sobs starting to tear through your body and he pulls away from you long enough to crouch in front of you, his eyes bearing into you.

“Y/N, look at me for a second.”

You shake your head, willing to look away and he sighs as he grabs your hands, watching you.

“Dammit Y/N, please. Look at me.”

You look down at him, big bold eyes staring deep into his own. Of all your features, he had always been fond of your eyes, the bright orbs captivating him – pulling him into the allusion that was your perfection. He loved after a bout of lovemaking to spend hours just staring in your eyes, not needing to say anything but live in the moment that was your love.

“I don’t know who told you that you weren’t worthy of marriage. This is where this is stemming from I’m assuming – some asshole from your past tainting something sacred like marriage – but they don’t dictate what you do and don’t deserve. Only you do. And you are love incarnate. You are happiness and kindness and tenderness and everyone who has you in their life, has a piece of what it’s like to be loved. And it is me, that every day works to prove to you that I am worthy of your love.”

He frowns, his mind debating something before he digs into his pocket and pull out the velvet, powder blue box. You would know it from anywhere, even in this dim light and you feel your heart swell though the small, cynical part of you is screaming to shut up.

A Tiffany blue box that could hold one thing you’ve always dreamed of inside but had buried deep inside.

“I bought this after our 64th date,” he gives a slight chuckle as he opens the box and your heart can’t stop beating faster as you take in the ring. A large princess cut amethyst diamond, powder purple set in a rose gold band, sparking diamonds adorning it. It was exactly the kind of ring you didn’t know you needed until now. “I know its crazy that I even know its our 64th one but ….. the military makes you pick up weird habits and for some reason, mine was tracking how many dates we went on before I was certain you were who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Frank and Dinah thought I was crazy. Buying an engagement ring, especially after it being six months. But I just knew – knew that you were it. I’ve carried this fucking thing for almost two years, waiting to see if maybe…..”

His hands are shaking as he offers it to you and he bites his lip as he states,

“You don’t have to say anything, especially because I am too high and tipsy and emotionally still trying to process how you’ve carried the weight of not thinking you deserve love to actually deal with rejection in the form of no so please say anything but that.”

You laugh, your voice raw and crackly as he smiles at you.

“Just know that this, and me, are here whenever you’re ready. No rush. But I want all of you – always if only you’ll have me.”

The last levy in you breaks as the tears rush down and you feel conflicted as your head shakes yes and Billy grins – all teeth as his eyes are hesitant.

“Wait, really? Shit. Fuck I didn’t ask properly….will you marry me?”

You laugh as you bend down and press your lips against his own and he sighs into the kiss, tears falling from his face as he pulls away and grabs your hand.

“I have to make this official.”

He slides the ring onto your finger and fits perfectly and you laugh as you look at him,

“You are always pushing me to do things.”

“That’s what you’re going to tell your fiancé as he reveals his soul to you?”

You grab his tie, pulling him to you as you kiss him slowly, your tongue coaxing over yours as you murmur,

“I’d rather show you how happy you just made me then tell you.”

He smiles against your lips as he pulls away from you, standing up and offering his hands.

“How about now?” a flicker of mischievousness runs through his face and you already know what he’s thinking. You turn back to the party, which was continuing without and look down at the time. You had a good twenty minutes before you needed to move on to the bouquet toss and cake cutting.

“You got 20 minutes Russo.”

Billy gives a confident smirk as he pulls you to him, his hands already snaking behind the dress and pulling it down.

“More than enough time.”

A/N: I don’t know why I keep defaulting to writing engagement stories with Billy ha ha. Some Freudian desire I’m sure for lots and lots of metaphors….as we discovered in a cruel game of MFK @thesandbeneathmytoes

ANYWAYS TELL ME IF YOU LIKE THIS! gotta put this in caps because the ben fans are really hard to engage and quite frankly its discouraging as a writer so please share the 

[afteriwake]

Let No One Be Abandoned Here (5/8)

And finally, a never before seen chapter! It gives a reason for Paul to be out of the orphanage, but it’s also giving it a sense of urgency. I hope you all enjoy! Especially, obviously, @greenskyoverme and @chitarra10!

Let No One Be Abandoned Here - When Admiral Pike tells Spock that the local group home that Starfleet has partnered with has a young half-human/half-Vulcan child in their care who needs a mentor while arrangements are being made to transfer him into the custody of someone on New Vulcan, he is unsure of what to do or how to feel or react at first. But once he meets the child and they begin to bond, he realizes that his life will be enriched by having him in it, and perhaps that he can begin to heal some old wounds he did not realize he still had.

Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 5 | Help Me Survive? | Commission Me?

The clothing that Nyota had procured for Paul was ready after Spock had had two more visits with Paul at the orphanage. He had yet to see the special accommodations that he had suggested put into place, and he was concerned. They had asked for his help, specifically because he was a Vulcan/human hybrid, so why were they not instituting the changes that he had recommended? It was peculiar.

There was some time between his third visit and his fourth, as he had needed to run a diplomatic errand to New Vulcan. He had avoided both his father and his alternate self because he did not want questions about Paul. For some reason, he was keeping this involvement with the child to a few people, mostly what Nyota referred to as his “found family,” various members of the Enterprise crew. Scotty had been involved in procuring the clothing and he and Nyota had spent weeks deciding what was “cool” enough for a pre-teenager. He carried the clothing in a bag now and hoped Paul found it suitable.

He went into Paul’s room and saw him curled into a ball on his side, moaning slightly. Spock was alarmed and set the bag on the floor before moving more quickly than usual to his bedside. “Paul? What has happened?”

“Something I ate made me feel ill,” he said, and Spock could see he was sweating at his brow. “Too spicy.”

It might not have been too spicy, per se, as it was simply the wrong spices, Spock surmised. He knew what needed to be done and felt...anger. Not the overwhelming anger that had been brought about at the loss of his mother and Jim’s needling, but anger that this boy was being put into discomfort needlessly. He deserved better.

“I will return with competent medical help,” he said. The orphanage was not far away from where Dr. McCoy lived, and he left the orphanage and made his way there quickly, banging on the door with an urgency he had not realized he truly felt. The door swung open and normally he would enjoy the shocked look on Dr. McCoy’s face, but he did not have time to be petty. “My ward needs you.”

McCoy frowned. “The kid in the orphanage?”

Spock nodded. “You have the most experience with my type of physiology. He is ill and in pain. I think certain spices have poisoned him.”

McCoy’s eyes widened and he nodded. He understood the seriousness of the situation as well and went back into his apartment to grab a travel-sized medical bag, then stopped and went to a closet to grab a different bag as well. “Do you have any idea what he ate?”

Spock shook his head. “None, Doctor.”

“Damn,” he said. “As far as I know, full-blooded Vulcans can tolerate these antidotes to most of the food sensitivities they have, but we’ve never tried them on you before. You have the sense to be careful what you put in your mouth. What the hell is that orphanage thinking? He’s a hybrid alien, of which there’s only a handful in existence. You told them about his dietary needs, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Spock said.

“I swear, I’ll rip some heads off if anything permanent happens to this kid.” He stepped out of his apartment and then locked the door behind him. “Let’s go.”

They made their way back to the orphanage, traveling quickly in Spock’s personal conveyance, and when they got there McCoy let Spock lead him to Paul’s room. The green tinge on Paul’s skin had gotten darker and Spock himself knew that was not a good sign. While McCoy asked Paul a series of questions, Spock knew there was only one other person who might have more knowledge than the good Doctor.

He went to a quieter part of the room and opened his communicator. Scotty had fiddled with it so it had the ability to reach New Vulcan on its own, and that was something he was quite thankful for. His father answered after just a moment. “Spock?”

“Did I ever have adverse reactions to foods that Mother would cook?” he asked.

“Once, when she made something with poppy seed. You had a horrendous reaction. It went away with time but it was an agonizing process.”

“Doctor,” Spock said, looking at McCoy. “Ask Paul if he ingested poppy seeds.”

McCoy turned to the boy, still taking his vitals, and then nodded. “Yeah, he did.”

Spock nodded. “It will clear on its own in time, but it will be an agonizing process, according to my father.”

“This kid needs to be somewhere else while he recovers,” McCoy said. “I can take him to the Academy medical bay.”

“He simply needs rest and quite a large amount of cold water,” Sarek said from the communicator. “I’m sure you can provide that, both you and your mate, Spock.”

Spock frowned. “That is all he needs?”

“It is derived from a plant that can, in some instances, mimic hallucinogenic drugs in some species. Vulcans are one of them. As your ward is half-human, the effect is less hallucinogenic but still unpleasant. Take him into your home, S’chinn T’gai. For an extended period, if need be.”

“Do you think that is wise?” Spock asked his father, frowning.

“I think it will cause a needless incident like this from being repeated.” There was a pause. “I will send more Vulcan recipes that your mother used for you to Lieutenant Uhura. I think she will find them easy enough to make.”

“Thank you, father,” he said.

“This is a good thing you are doing,” Sarek said, his tone softening in a way Spock rarely heard. “Take care of him.” Then he ended the call.

Spock looked at the communicator and then at Paul, being tended to by McCoy. He remembered how his mother felt having Michael in their home, and how his father had always been more visibly comfortable with his fellow full-blooded Vulcans, and how he had felt he fit in with no part of his family because he was never fully human or fully Vulcan. Could he offer something better for Paul? And then he knew before his inner voice attempted to answer the question that he would try his best to because he did not want the boy to be in pain anymore. “Doctor McCoy, help me do what we must to get Paul transitioned into my home,” he said. “Find a way to convince Admiral Pike to let me take Paul home to my home. Using bullying techniques if needed. I will not allow this to stand.”

He watched McCoy give him a grin before turning back to Paul and, for a moment, felt that perhaps he had done some small measure of repair to his relationship with the good doctor. Only time would tell, as it would for Paul.

[averagelizajane-blog]

My Speech

I haven’t blogged in over a year ... this post really doesn’t count because it is a copy of a speech I gave this week at the a statewide nurse appreciation event the March of Dimes put on.  Nurses were awarded in 20 different categories.  There was also a silent and live auction to raise funds for the MOD. 

March of Dimes 

Nurse of the Year Event 

11/22/19

Richmond Hilton, Short Pump

When Latne asked me to speak today, I couldn’t say no because any chance I get to express gratitude to nurses I am going to jump on it!  I cannot think of very many honors higher than publicly thanking those who serve others -- especially babies.  So if you, all the nurses here today, get nothing else out of my little speech, please hear me when I say “THANK YOU!”  Thank you sincerely from the bottom of my heart!  You make a difference every.single.day!  Latne also asked me to keep my remarks under 5 minutes -- I’ll do my very best, but no promises … it’s going to be quite challenging to share our story in just 5 minutes.  

Let me begin with a day I will never forget.  It was an ordinary Saturday night in early 2018.  Anne-Marie’s health was pretty stable by then.  She had long been off oxygen, and she was tolerating her gtube feeds fairly well.  Anyways, I got her out of the bath and dressed her for bed.  I looked her in the eyes just like every other night and said, “Anne-Marie, I love you.”  And then that very ordinary night became one very extraordinary night in a matter of seconds.  Anne-Marie looked back at me with the most loving eyes and responded very robotically and very, very softly, “IIII Wuuub wun.”  You see, Anne-Marie was nonverbal up until last year.  I sat in the floor and cried tears of joy and relished in the fact that I had finally heard the three little words, I sometimes doubted I’d ever hear.  I vividly remember after a few minutes of crying, saying a prayer out loud (I usually pray silently and I hate to admit it, only when I need something) but in that moment I thanked God out loud for every single one of Anne-Marie’s nurses by name, doctors by name, therapists by name, her teachers by name, my parents, my best friend, Maggie, and everyone else who has cared for Anne-Marie along the way. 

Anne-Marie was born at 25 weeks gestation because I had severe pre-eclampsia and HELLP syndrome. The details surrounding her traumatic birth are a little cloudy.  However, I have a couple of very clear memories from that very scary time.

I was admitted to the hospital on January 10th. I was supposed to be on bed-rest because of my high blood pressure, but we had planned a 5th birthday party at the local bowling alley for my oldest daughter, Leah.  So while we were at Leah’s birthday celebration, my OB doctor called and said my blood work didn’t look good and I needed to go to the hospital.  Upon arrival and evaluation, the doctors said they would try and wait as long as possible to deliver, because they wanted to give me steroids for the baby’s lungs, but things didn’t look good and I may need to have a c-section “soon.”     

This news was not okay with me for several reasons.  The first and most important reason was that my baby, in my mind, was not developed enough to sustain life outside the womb.  At that time, I knew next to nothing about prematurity.  I just had this gut-wrenching feeling that my baby was going to die.

The second reason I was not okay with learning the news that a “soon” delivery was inevitable, was that I did NOT want my baby to be born on Leah’s birthday.  Again, I had a bad feeling I was going to lose my baby and I didn’t want to have an anniversary of a birth and a death on the same day.      

So, we were in the hospital, doing our best to process this very worrisome, new information and an in-depth ultrasound was done to predict the size of our baby.  Afterwards, two residents came in to speak with me about the possibility of the smallest breathing tube the NICU has being too large for our baby.  This information just lead to more questions with unknown answers.  They left and then it was a nurse who came back in, and with the most compassionate demeanor, she asked what we were going to name our baby.  I looked at my husband, Bradley, cluelessly … all I could think about is why are we going to name a baby, who probably won’t survive.  What’s the point?  It will just make this all harder?  We explained to the sweet nurse that we didn’t have any names picked out and we didn’t even know the sex, we had wanted to be surprised.  The nurse said that they liked to call babies by name when working to resuscitate them and caring for them -- she said they have a tendency to respond better.  With that small act of kindness, an overwhelming sense of comfort came over me.  I surrendered all and we named our baby.  

After that humble conversation with that nurse my feelings surrounding the date of my c-section began to change.  I figured if Anne-Marie needed to be born on Leah’s birthday, maybe that could actually be a gift and not a curse.  

And that’s exactly what happened. Anne-Marie was born en caul on January 12th.  She weighed 420 grams (that’s 14.8 ounces for all of us non-medical people) and was 10 inches long.  She was tinier than tiny -- about the size of a big Smartphone with a hard case.        

Anne-Marie did fairly-well during the very beginning of her 200-day hospital-stay.  I was discharged and tried my absolute best to keep some sense of normalcy for Leah, all while traveling back and forth to the hospital each day and pumping breast milk every three hours.  

It wasn’t until right around the 2 week mark when we had our first big scare.  I got a call from a doctor who said Anne-Marie’s oxygen stats were really low and they needed to change out her breathing tube to the next biggest size.  When we arrived, the normally dark and calm NICU room looked completely different.  The lights were bright and there was close to 10-15 people crowded around Anne-Marie’s isolette.  A social worker sat with me and explained what was happening.  One nurse had a cart with a separate computer and was logging everything the medical team was doing.  A respiratory therapist was bagging Anne-Marie.  Two doctors were conversing quietly about my daughter but not including me.  The air was tense.  Everyone was very serious.  A hospital chaplin came and introduced himself.  He asked me if I wanted to have Anne-Marie baptised. 

Prior to her birth, I was the one who thought she was going to die.  Now here we are, a couple of weeks later, and the experts think she’s going to die.  I politely responded, “No” to the chaplin.  I know it’s irrational now, but at that time, I figured if I allowed her to be baptised, I was giving up.  I thought if I willed her to live, she would.  I was scared.  I asked if I should call my husband in from work.  The doctor in the purple tie responded matter-of-factly, “Yes,” he said, “your baby is very sick and could die any minute.”  I called Bradley then stared at the beeping monitor displaying sats in the teens and 20s for half an hour.  I was in a daze, when one of Anne-Marie’s primary nurses asked me if I needed a break.  She may have never known it, but she had two patients that day, Anne-Marie and myself.  Her calm, professional vibe and consideration allowed me to deal with the situation.

These are just two of countless times during Anne-Marie’s journey where I credit my own success to her nurses.  All along, I’ve always credited Anne-Marie’s success to her skilled nurses.  And I always will.  Through 5 surgeries, several PICC lines, countless blood transfusions, back and forth transitions between the jet ventilator, conventional ventilator, and CPAP, progression from TPN to all mixes of formula, and graduating from an isolette to a warmer bed to an open crib, Anne-Marie’s nurses have been there on the front lines every step of the way. Not only did they medically care for her, but they went way beyond that … Anne-Marie’s nurses were really her first parents before we had her in our true custody.  They advocated to doctors on our behalf during rounds, they sang to her to soothe her, they dressed her up when she was able to wear clothes, they took pictures to decorate her bedside and did everything as much as they could to support the emotional needs of all of us.    

Today, Anne-Marie is in school and is very successful.  She’s spunky and silly and full of life. Anne-Marie loves reading, singing, pretend-play, her Nana, and following Leah around every step she takes.  My family is forever in debt to the NICU nurses and doctors, the March of Dimes, and the greater field of neonatology.  I reflect upon her journey from time to time and know without a shadow of doubt that each person who cared for Anne-Marie was put in that position at that particular time for a reason.  Her outcome would have been different if certain pieces to the puzzle were lost.  We will never be able to express enough gratitude for saving Anne-Marie’s life. On behalf of babies everywhere, I sincerely thank you for your dedication and service.      

[okd-blr]

Who is the admin

Basics:

While Im sure most of you can figure out who runs this blog, especially if you visit the OKD home page, for use on this blog go ahead and call me V.

I’m 28 years old, if you are a minor who does not wish for adult interaction please be aware of this.

I am a bisexual pre/non transitioned Trans man and use he/they pronouns

While I do not have a current diagnosis I am not neurotypical, very likely I have ADHD

And if any of this matter to you I’m an Aries, a Slytherin and a Furry

Kintypes:

I have three different types-2 kintypes, a Theriotype and a fictotype.

My first kintype technically falls under a few different labels, but would most easily be described as a Cthonic type divine. My other kintype is that of a vampiric like animal/human shapeshifter. these two kintypes tend to be very fluid and blend together.

My theriotype is that of a melanistic jaguar like is depicted in the blog icon

My Fictotype is that of a specific character portrayed on a canadian TV drama that is an Unseelie Fae

Experience as otherkin and in the community: 

I first came to the conclusion that I might, in some way, not be entirely human 16 years ago.

At the time Vampire was the only thing I could really think of-as my grandmother was fully invested in the ideas of the Satanic Panic and had assured me as a child vampires and witches were absolutely real (she was right of course but not in the way she imagined) 

At first I dismissed this idea as the imaginings of a lonely, bullied child who wanted to be special and wished for control and power in their life. yes I was pretty quick on the critical thinking train.

However the experiences I had, the feelings I had that lead me to initially suspect being nonhuman did not go away despite my skepticism and so I would explore it in small ways until roughly 2004 when i would stumble across resources for the Real Vampire community and a small-likely now gone-page for the ‘were’ community ( the label used prior to Therianthropy) 

I read through these sites-especially the resources on vampirism, very thoroughly-though I did not join the forums as I was not allowed to do that kind of thing because of aforementioned paranoid grandmother. 

In high school I had a number of friends who claimed to be vampires, witches, reincarnated angels and such but it was clear pretty much from the beginning that this was just a game to them and they tended to engage in lots of drama and pretty teenage backstabbing and gossip. I largely managed to avoid this by claiming to be a “solitary’ vampire.

There were others I would meet in college who would, for a while, genuinely believe these kinds of things but feel out of it again after a few years-again I was the only one who remained serious about these experiences and identity.

In early 2009 during my third semester of college I would discover the forum TherianWilderness via someones Deviantart signature. Being a now independent adult I signed up, and from there also signed up for Werelist. Mostly at this time I was exploring my theriotype and the shapeshifter kintype. 

I would later bring up the subject of incarnated angels on Werelist and be directed to otherkin specific forums such as OtherkinPhenomena and OtherkinAlliance. (Though I ended up with an account on nearly every active Otherkin forum at the time, OKA was where I eventually settled down) from there 

I would begin much more serious introspection and personal growth not only related to my being Otherkin but also in relation to the rest of my spirituality. in this facet the older members of these forums were a huge asset to me and I continue to value their input and opinions on the subject-even though the group from those days has largely drifted away from each other. This same group of people would also be active in specific Otherkin circles and groups on Livejournal and then Dreamwidth.

In 2011 I would found Otherkin-Deviants on DeviantArt.com-At the time it was one of the few groups that was not Therian specific and in the ensuing 7 nyears it has become one of the largest Alterhuman related groups on Deviantart at over 350 members. 

Also in early 2011 I would create a Tumblr account. At this time there was no Otherkin community here and my main blog was almost entirely Harry Potter related. After some explosive life stuff I would be gone from the internet for a year-when I returned to Tumblr in April 2012 the Otherkin tag on Tumblr was in full swing and already full of drama, misinformation, trolls and a bunch of other ridiculous crap. So of course I rolled up my selves and went to work correcting what i could and attempting to police/moderate a community that inherently can not be moderated on this particular medium. It was all very dramatic, theres was lots of yelling and by 2014 I was sick of it all and decided to take a break from the kin community-aside from a select few people who I enjoyed talking to. 

Sometime in early 2016 I decided it was time to end my hiatus and take a peak back into the tags-annnnd it pretty much hadn't changed. but I was much better at handling The Discourse at that point and knew when to disengage. 

Sometime not too long after my return I would realize the fae kintype I had been unsure  of and questioning for nearly 10 years was, in fact, a fictotype. 

And while I had only been gone fro about two years-there didn't seem to be very many kin left in the tags who remembered me so establishing myself as a knowledgeable person within the community was starting over from scratch. I still wouldn't say I’m exactly a go to person when it comes to correcting misinformation-because while I do do that on my personal kin blogs those blogs are mostly for me to log my own personal experiences.

That brings us up to now-where I have created this extension of the OKD deviant art group. This blog has the same purpose as the original group-to showcase community art and creativity and foster a place for open and civil discussion and education. Though this is one of many ‘kin help blogs’ many of the blogs out there that claim to be information or for helping Otherkin/Therian/Fictionkin are FULL of misinformation and the mods of those blogs do not always take well to being corrected. 

So, to summarize- I realized I was Otherkin 16 years ago, prior to ever knowing there was a community- and have been an active participant and admin of my own groups for the last close to 9 years-on a verity of different mediums from forums to chats to Tumblr, Amino and Discord. 

Who I am otherwise: 

I am a freelance artist living in the US with my fiance and our son and cats.

 I love TV, films and books-especially the horror, scifi, and fantasy genres. I identify as being somewhere between Punk and Goth and truly love the music from both subcultures-though I also love music from many other different genres. I also greatly enjoy table top gaming and it would be really cool if I actually had time to join a D&D campaign. 

I joyfully engage in fandom and shipping and spend probably too much time looking at fanart and reading fanfiction. If you're interested ask me for my fandom blog :3

As mentioned earlier, I am a furry and enjoy the art and interactions of the furry community. As an artist I particularly enjoy how wonderful the furry community is about supporting artists. 

Most of my time however is probably spent stressing about pretty typical things like rent, utility bills, car repairs and home maintenance. I may not be human on the inside but rent is rent no matter who, or what, you are. 

[ramajmedia]

Avengers: Endgame Interview - VFX Supervisor Dan DeLeeuw

Celebrating the digital and home release of Avengers: Endgame, VFX Supervisor Dan DeLeeuw took the opportunity to speak to Screen Rant about his role in making Marvel's biggest blockbuster. The culmination of 11 years' worth of storytelling, Avengers: Endgame was a challenge on a whole different scale to any Marvel movie.

Fortunately, the studio had VFX Supervisor Dan DeLeeuw to coordinate the project. DeLeeuw has been working with Marvel Studios since 2013's Iron Man 3, and he headed up a number of large-scale projects, including Captain America: Civil War and Avengers: Infinity War. The VFX Supervisor's job is to run through the script and work out what can be done practically, and what requires visual effects; they then work with different companies such as WETA Digital to design these effects. In a film featuring everything from spaceships to time travel, from the Hulk to Captain Marvel, everything rested upon the quality of the visual effects.

Related: Endgame Directors Answer The Fans' 15 Biggest Questions

Celebrating his role in making Avengers: Endgame, DeLeeuw recently sat down with Screen Rant to talk about the challenges of making a film on this scale, and focused particularly on the third act battle.

With Avengers: Endgame, what would you say was the biggest challenge with this film?

I think it was the overall size and scale. We'd finished Infinity War, and we thought that was big, and we knew Endgame was coming, and we knew it was gonna be bigger, so... Infinity War was training for Endgame. The number of shots was actually lower - 152 shots in Endgame, but the sheer scope and size and length of the shots went up quite a bit. Getting into the final battle, with all the characters; the fun part was going through and taking every character, every ship, every enemy, that you could think of, and putting together a shot, and then working those shots, and seeing them evolve over the course of production. What you'd hoped, and what you'd dreamed they'd be kind of coming to fruition at the end.

Must have been magical at the end.

It was. Every day, shots would come in overnight and in the morning you'd open that up and take a look, and in the back of your brain you know the way you want them to work. And then you kind of see how they come together, and kind of see... You know, when the animation gets locked in, and you see it for the first time, and everything comes to life. And then you kind of see all your characters together, and the fun gags. Y'know, for me it was definitely the portals opening but then, y'know, Cap versus Thanos as well. From the very beginning of the three years that we were on it, you knew Cap's gonna fight Thanos, and he's going to get Mjolnir! If I accomplish nothing in this movie, Cap will have that hammer and it will be the awesome fight of Cap destroying Thanos, paying him back for everything that happened in Infinity War.

It's like, picking up the hammer... Thor's on the ropes, he's taken out Tony, everybody's done and its the emotional ebb and flows, and then you have Cap picking it up and then him laying him out, and then... My favorite shot is when Cap hits him with the hammer and Thanos swings up to the lens and his spit goes flying out his mouth, you know! Destroying Thanos is pretty good.

Related: How Captain America Is Able To Lift Thor's Hammer In Avengers: Endgame

Obviously, with that final fight scene, the scale of it just became incredible. How do you map out a battle with so many characters and so many moving parts?

Well, we spent a lot of time in pre-vis, so we'll have a team working with low-res versions of the characters, and it kind of looks a little bit like a cartoon, but you kind of get a feel for the shape of the sequence, and the emotions of the sequence, and then once everybody signs up to that general look, you now go in and say, 'OK, we know we're going to do this, to shoot this we need CG Thanos here, we need a live-action play here.

We did the big kind of runner where everybody runs into the crash, where Giant-Man punches the Leviathan; that's made up of a plate of our heroes running together, and then the clash. Then we transition to a CG hookup when Giant-Man punches the Leviathan; we come down to a live-action plate of Black Panther and Okoye and Shuri; they're seamed together by a CG Drax jumping on to the back of Cul Obsidian but then CG Drax turns into Dave Bautista when he jumps and lands; and then we kind of pan off of them and we go on to Tony and Pepper, so...

But the point is, you can kind of see the different components that you've got, then break them out, and show the rest of the crew, 'this is the piece we need.' We get those pieces of photography, and we send them to WETA Digital, and then in addition to the pre-vis - you can only hook so many characters into it, right, so you'll have an idea of what you want the shot to be, you'll have the 40 characters in the foreground, and then WETA add the extra 4,000 characters to the background. So what you thought was big in pre-vis, becomes even bigger by the time you get it back from WETA!

How closely did you have to work with the cast as well when you were filming that battle?

When you're dealing with Chris Evans or Robert Downey Jr., who've got so many movies under their belt, they've worked with all kind of VFX. You show them the pre-vis, and they're like, 'OK, we got it,' you know? Then you've got some folks that are kind of newer to the franchise, with the Black Panther folks, so you'll show 'em the pre-vis and you explain to them what this crazy environment's gonna be around them, once the shot's finished. You gotta make sure everybody understood what it's like, that it's not just a green box, you want to set the stage for what's gonna be around them so they can appreciate that.

To that end, with the Russos, I think we really want to put as many stunt people or character performers around them to make it real. Even if they're fighting Chitauri or something like that, you're still gonna put people up, in motion-capture suits. We'll deal with having to take something out in favor of making sure the actor's got somebody to play off of.

Related: Avengers: Endgame - Every Character In The Final Battle

So, there's one deleted scene where Tony Stark meets the older Morgan Stark in the Soul World. Do you think there's any chance Marvel will ever release that scene?

I don't know, I've seen a cut of it. They filmed it, but - it was so... Story-wise, I think it was something about they'd introduced Morgan, when she's that much older, you've bonded with the younger Morgan so much, that it kinda took you out a little bit. I mean, it's possible, it's there, on the server somewhere. It could happen!

Avengers: Endgame is available now on Blu-ray, DVD, and Digital HD.

More: The Best Movie Endings Of The Decade

source https://screenrant.com/avengers-endgame-interview-vfx-supervisor-dan-deleeuw/

[exjade]

From: source

A detransitioned woman recently conducted a survey of detransitioners (Stella, 2016c). Though the survey was only open for two weeks, more than 200 women completed it. Clearly, there are more than just a handful of people who are coming to re-identify as female. The survey results are compelling.

• 92.5% of those who responded said that their dysphoria was the same or better after detransitioning than during transition.

• Only 8% of respondents felt somewhat or completely positive toward their own transition, whereas 60.2% felt somewhat or completely negative toward it.

Following are quotes from the individual comments included by survey respondents:

• “I used transition as self-harm. It destroyed so many parts of my life.”

• “My seeking medical and social transition led to a deep spiral of depression and lack of identity—and was probably also caused by those things. The social ostracization led to increased anxiety and my grades were devastated.”

• “I was a train wreck waiting to happen and transition fed the insecurities, anxiety and hopelessness” (Stella, 2016c).

The following is a quote from detransitioner and blogger Max Robinson, with her permission:

I transitioned FtM (female to male) at 16, was on testosterone and had a double mastectomy by 17. 

I absolutely am traumatized by what happened to me, and I'm not the only one. I'm a part of support networks for women who stopped transition that have over 100 members, and that's just the individuals who have gone looking for others with this experience and found us.Early in my transition, I went through menopause. This caused vaginal atrophy and drip incontinence that has persisted for years. I piss myself slowly all day now; it's really not cute or fun. I refused to acknowledge it was connected to the HRT-caused vaginal atrophy that immediately preceded its onset until months after going off testosterone. Yeah, I signed a paper saying I knew that could happen. I also thought this treatment was my only hope for coping with the intense feelings of alienation/disgust with my femaleness. I was wrong. Transition didn't help. It did harm, harm that I now have to learn how to live with on top of all the shit I thought transition would fix.

My double mastectomy was severely traumatizing. I paid a guy, a guy who does this every day for cash, to drug me to sleep and cut away healthy tissue. I did this because I believed it would heal all of the emotional issues I was blaming on my female body. It didn't work. Now I'm still all fucked up and I'm missing body parts, too.

There is no surgery that will undo what's been done… adding synthetic materials to resemble the tissue of mine that was incinerated years ago would not help me. It took 3 years of stuffing down every negative feeling about my mastectomy before I was ready to face that what happened did harm to me. I was off hormones for months before I admitted to myself that I deeply, deeply regretted this surgery. I have lost my breasts and I have lost the chance to reconcile with my breasts. It wouldn't be easy, but it would be work worth doing. Now the work before me instead is reconciling with what I've done and with the chest I have now—flat, scarred, asymmetrical, and nerve-damaged. (Robinson, 2016)

Detransitioner and blogger Cari Stella went on testosterone and had a double mastectomy as a teenager. In a video she made, she lets viewers know that she is not just some statistic. Looking right at the camera, she tells us that “I'm a real live 22-year-old woman with a scarred chest, and a broken voice and a five o'clock shadow because I couldn't face the idea of growing up to be a woman. That is my reality” (Stella, 2016a).

It has been demonstrated that pediatric transition can have serious side effects and comes with the possibility of a high incidence of regret. Now I would like to discuss how social factors and therapeutic practices are playing a role in encouraging young people to transition.

In recent years, young people (tweens and teens) have been presenting with dysphoria “out of the blue” without ever having expressed any gender variance before (https://transgendertrend.com/rapid-onset-gender-dysphoria-research-study/). An announcement of being transgender is often preceded by anxiety, depression, social isolation, loss, or trauma. This now-common presentation was virtually unheard of until a few years ago. The sudden onset of gender dysphoria seems to be correlated with a couple of factors.

One is social media use. On sites such as YouTube, thousands of homemade videos chronicle the gender transitions of teenagers. The Tumblr blog “Fuck Yeah FTMs” features photo after photo of young FtMs celebrating the changes wrought by testosterone. “I finally have freedom!” posters boast under photographs of their scarred chests post mastectomy. “I'm no longer pre-T!” boasts another under a video of someone injecting testosterone. “My name is Cameron! I'm a nineteen-year-old nonbinary/trans person living in Ohio! I'm excited to say that yesterday was my first injection! I am so happy with the person I am becoming.” Almost all of these posters are under 25 years of age.

Young people can find plenty of in-group validation online. There is an incredibly positive climate around being trans in many places on the Internet. On just one of the hundreds of thousands of YouTube videos that document the poster's “top surgery,” there are 48 comments such as:

“Can't believe how far you've come! You are amazing in every way!”

“So proud and happy for you.”

“You are totally rad.”

“By the way, you are totally attractive.”

Young people are also finding validation online for their self-diagnosis as transgender. The blog transgenderreality.com meticulously details the process by which a questioning young person is encouraged to understand his or her symptoms as evidence of being trans. Young people on reddit and other social media sites explain that they started wondering whether they were trans because they enjoyed creating opposite-sex avatars in online games and liked the clothing or hairstyles of the opposite sex. Commentators frequently respond by telling them they sound like a “textbook case” and congratulate them on “finding out early.”

The second correlative factor is having peers who also identify as trans. We are seeing kids coming out together in peer groups. The following quotes are all taken from parent comments on the blog 4thwavenow unless otherwise noted.

We are a progressive family caught in the teenage transgender wave. It's so scary. I can't even put it into words. What we are seeing are pockets of teens in different towns who are declaring themselves either non-binary or transgender. In many cases, these are teens who showed no gender variance at all, and then they get connected with a group in their high school, and suddenly a large percentage of them are identifying this way. The information they find on the Internet convinces them that physical transitioning via hormones and surgery is not only the only way to go but should also be available to them right now, as soon as they want it. I am very concerned that the medical community is not looking at the sheer number of teens, post-puberty, who are making these kinds of declarations and asking whether this can be genuine or a temporary stop on the process of figuring out one's identity as a teenager. Peer influence is just so huge in these kids. As soon as they turn 18, they are seeking medical intervention, and the model now is informed consent, so we have lots of teenagers and young adults making permanent changes to their bodies when their brains have not yet reached adulthood. Very, very scary.

In my daughter's extra-curricular activity, one of the groups has about 20 kids in it (all teenagers). Seven of those kids are natal females. THREE of those seven females are publicly out as FTM. This does not include my daughter, who has never come out publicly. So four of seven girls have some issue with gender identity. Of the three girls who have socially transitioned, one is on testosterone and has had surgery. All are under 18. All of them made this discovery after puberty.

My daughter befriended some trans kids from her acting troupe. When you look at this group, each year they are something different. There are kids who, upon joining, are just “allies,” the next year they are bisexual, the next year they are gay, and then the final year, they are trans. And at every step of the way, they are being applauded and receiving so much positive support from themselves, each other, the group, the grownups, and the audiences they address (I call this the “echo chamber”). But it's fishy. Why are there so many kids who, the more they hang out, all of a sudden, they are trans too? It doesn't make sense.

My daughter, who is 17, told me last year on Mother's Day that she was now my son. When I began researching this subject, I was extremely concerned with the medical intervention that takes place with these children. Then when I went to a meeting for parents with transgender children, I was shocked about how all of these parents were jumping on the bandwagon of drugs and surgery without questioning. They even complain about wait times for surgeries! Unfortunately, here in Canada, children as young as 16 can make medical decisions for themselves and parents are not allowed to intervene (and surgeries are free).

My daughter decided she is transgender just as soon as she learned of it as a concept, in her senior year of high school. The previous school year she was dealing with a lot of anxiety and stress. She learned of transgender from a small high school group of friends. The university diversity center director took a group of transgender students to a free gender clinic, where my daughter then returned and received, after a single visit, a prescription for testosterone.I am the mother of a young man in his late 20s who, within the space of just a few months of bingeing on reddit and YouTube transition videos, decided that he was transgender, and is undergoing transition at a frightening speed. Obviously, he is old enough to do whatever he pleases, and all I can do is grieve quietly as I watch him from afar as he destroys his physical and mental health.

In my local high school my daughter is in the marching band. She plays an instrument, but she is friends with many girls in the color guard. There are about 25 members of the color guard this year. All of them are natal female. Last year my daughter told me that almost all of them felt they were lesbian. This year, almost all of them feel they are transgender, agender, or, at the very least, are questioning their gender identities. I've noticed that many of them have similar haircuts and that some of them are binding. Many constantly discuss their gender identities and agonize about “coming out” to their parents. Their lives seem to be focused on this subject 24/7, which has driven away certain non-transgender friends. No adults have stepped into help, even though they are aware of what is happening. (Anonymous, Private correspondence, 2016)

[confidentmicrophone]

My Life

Hello! I hope you all are having an amazing day. I love using Tumblr to express my inner self, even if it only reaches one person. I feel like sharing my experiences may help others, so here is a short summary of my life.

I was born into a wonderful family. I’m the oldest daughter (and I have one little sister, only by two years). My parents are originally from up North, so we don’t get to see our relatives that often. We make trips every summer to see them, though. My mom’s mom has MS and is in a wheelchair, so it can be hard sometimes, but we love her. My dad’s mom is morbidly obese (I don’t mean that as an insult), but we can’t take her anywhere and her house is a disaster. So, it’s not always the easiest, but we love them. I do wish we had some sweet grandmother figure, though, like most people do.

For Pre-K, I went to a church school, I don’t really remember it. For kindergarten, I went to an elementary school that had a failing rating, so they offered to let me switch schools, so in 1st grade, I switched schools. I did love my new elementary school (I forgot the old one quickly). I was always a little shy, so it was hard to make friends. In 1st grade, I did meet someone I wanted to be friends, although we truly didn’t become friends until 2nd grade. I felt like having one friend was good enough, I didn’t need a large group of friends. I’d be nice to other kids, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to connect with other people. So, it stayed that way, until 4th grade. In 4th grade, my friend was held back (although she could’ve made it, her parents made the choice). We still were friends, but this was a turning point in our relationship. We started having her little brother over and he got along well with my little sister. Eventually, me and her drifted apart, and I started hanging out with her brother and she started hanging out with my sister. We got along that way for years. But it wasn’t that easy.

Because of me switching elementary schools, we didn’t go to the same school after 5th grade. I was okay with this, and we made it up until 8th grade (I’ll touch on this later). Middle school was harder than I care to admit. I felt like I had moved, the only people I knew at the school were in my Girl Scout troop and I had no classes with them. However, I managed. In elementary school, I was an awful student and procrastinator, but when I made it to middle school, something just clicked in me and I started to work harder. I didn’t try to meet anyone, I just stayed in my own bubble. Overall I liked middle school (as much as you can for school), my sister would strongly disagree. She hated/hates it.

When I transitioned to high school, it wasn’t that bad, except that I lost my best friends that summer. We didn’t have that much contact over the summer, but we invited them over to my birthday party and they acted distant. Then, we invited them over another time and they wouldn’t even speak to us, for no reason. We fought a lot over text after that, because we needed some reason and closure. However there wasn’t, and this affected us a lot. They were family friends, so our whole family suffered minus my dad. He was still friends with their dad and would/still watch football games at their house. It still hurts my feelings, because he defended them. We asked him to discuss it with their parents, but he didn’t want to risk his friendship and that really affected our relationship with him. I’m still hurt, because I believe with all my heart that if he would’ve done what we asked, we would still be friends. After the fight, my sister battled with depression and separated herself from me. I used to say, I didn’t just lose my best friends, I also lost my sister, because we used to play video games and stuff together, but now she does everything on her own and is mean and hateful. They were practically family and they were gone in an instant. I know it’s bad to say, but sometimes I feel like it is harder than a death, because they chose not to be around us, but please don’t hate on me, it’s just very difficult. I’ve also never experienced a traumatic death, so I have no right to say it, I know, so I’m sorry if you have gone through a traumatic death. Freshman year was definitely hard, especially with this. The main reason was one of our friends(her), so I reached out to her little brother a few times. We even talked on the phone once, but it was too hard. Then, one day we saw her in public, and we had a decent text conversation, but I’m still hurt. I can barely look at photos at them anymore. I try to remember the good, but it’s hard. I still wish her little brother a happy birthday and he did once to me (but not this year).

Anyways, let’s get back to my school life. My campus has over 3,000 students, so I didn’t really feel left out. I joined Key Club in my freshman year and I’m still in it (actually the vice president now, as a junior). I didn’t enjoy all of my classes freshman year (like Criminal Justice and PE). It was an experiment. I did like PE sometimes, but I hated running the mile and playing team sports, I preferred free day. I was really hoping to enjoy Criminal Justice (because I wanted to become a lawyer), but my teacher was too hard for an elective, and I quit after the first year. I was also in the Finance academy and my teacher quit around October, so I had a bad curriculum for the rest of the year. I loved my teacher too. However, it was an okay course, I didn’t learn anything new. In my sophomore year, I took accounting with a different teacher and I LOVED it. It made me want to do more of a business career. Sophomore year was pretty good, I took Digital Multi-Media, which I loved and have a HUGE interest. I stepped into an officer position in my Key Club (Editor). I even took an AP class, which I never thought I would do. I got straight A’s for my classes, which was insane. Last year, I applied for a position on my city’s student council, and although I didn’t make it, I felt really good about stepping out of my comfort zone. Also, by applying, I was automatically accepted into the School of Government, and this year I get to go all these amazing places and learn new things, and eventually see my state capital!  This year, my junior year, was even better than sophomore. I took Digital Multi-Media 2 and I can’t begin to say how much I love it. I’m vice president of Key Club and I love helping out in our community. I was accepted into NHS. I’m working on my Girl Scout Gold Award (also, my troop dissolved in 8th grade, so I joined a different one the following year). High school flies by, next year I’m going to be a senior, and I have no clue what I’m going to do. My parents want me to go to college near home, but I’m not 100% sure. The number one thing I hate about being the older sibling is that I have to experience everything first, so I go into the unknown, but I’m good at change.

So, this is my life. I’m sorry if you didn’t like my story, but I wanted to share it (mainly for my sake). If it helped you whatsoever I’m glad, remember, as cliché as it sounds, you can get through anything, you are strong. And if you ever need anyone to reach out to, feel free to reach out to me. 

Who knows what the future holds?

---Also, sorry for any typos or grammar issues, I didn’t proof everything.

[mysteriouslyzealouspandalov-blog]

Jon and Dany's relationship has always been the endgame, says 'Game of Thrones' director

New Post has been published on https://relationshipguideto.com/must-see/jon-and-danys-relationship-has-always-been-the-endgame-says-game-of-thrones-director/

Jon and Dany's relationship has always been the endgame, says 'Game of Thrones' director

Dany and Jon, sittin' in a cabin…

Image: hbo

The penultimate episode of Game of Thrones Season 7 was arguably the most stressful installment since the Red Wedding — North of the Wall, we saw one of Daenerys’ beloved dragons die, before being resurrected by the Night King, while back in Winterfell, Arya and Sansa escalated their cold war to nuclear levels, all thanks to Littlefinger’s puppeteering.

With only one episode left this season — and only six episodes to come in Season 8  — we’re rapidly approaching the show’s endgame, which means that characters we love are probably going to start dying again, and alliances will be forced to solidify or shatter in the face of the Night King’s advance on Westeros. 

SEE ALSO: Prepare for a super-sized ‘Game of Thrones’ finale and start freaking out about the cryptic episode title

With that in mind, we spoke to Alan Taylor, director of episode 706, “Beyond the Wall,” to discuss the developments of last Sunday’s episode and the tensions rising heading into the finale — including the fact that George R. R. Martin was apparently dropping hints about his ultimate plan for the story way back in Season 1. 

Taylor on location in Iceland

Image: helen sloan/hbo

The last time you directed on the show was in Season 2 — has the experience changed much since then?  

Yeah, it’s funny; it’s very, very different, and yet the same. The first two seasons, it had by no means the scale of audience attention that it has now, and when I came back after being away for a while, I sort of thought I’d be returning to the same enterprise. When I came back, I was immediately struck by how much bigger the whole thing has gotten. It was always big — there were always two units functioning simultaneously in different countries, so it was always a certain scale — but now instead of one bunker you walk by on the way to the stage, now there’s 10. 

The main difference, I think, is probably the certain story elements, like the dragons. The visual effects are a huge part of it in a way they weren’t before. If you’re doing one shot on a frozen lake with a dragon, it’s actually seven shots that are being stitched together in various layers, shot in various ways to compose into the story beats, so it’s a much more complex machine now than it used to be. But the funny thing is that the spirit remains the same. It still feels like an indie production. People are still completely unpretentious, including the actors and how they do the work. It still feels scruffy and rough and ready. It’s got the worst craft services of any production I’ve ever been on — it’s got two crackers and some cold tea. [Laughs.] It hasn’t gotten bloated at all. It’s still lean, but the finished product is huge.   

How long did that final battle on the frozen lake take to film, all told?

Oh boy. I’d forgotten how many days we were there on that frozen lake, but I can tell you it felt like roughly forever. It was getting up pre-dawn every day, going to this quarry that was outside Belfast. The crew would be there already, sweeping whatever rain and stuff had happened off the ice and restoring the snow on our set, which was huge and 360 degrees. 

I remember the DP — who is brilliant, Jonathan Freeman — despairing because he realized one day we had bright sunlight, which is horrible when you’re North of the Wall, and fog, which is impossible to shoot in, and snow and rain all in the same day. He’s trying to pull a coherent vision out of all those elements. Coupled with the fact that when Dany arrives, she’s sitting on a huge styrofoam green thing on top of our [island], and you’re shooting three layers of shot … any time anybody goes through the ice, you know you’re going to be shooting that later in a dunk tank on a sound stage. It was huge and insanely complex. We were there for weeks, and I know that the investment of my time was something I’ve never experienced in television. I think from my first scout of that location to finishing the episode took five months, which is way into feature film territory, not television.  

I honestly had no idea you filmed the ice lake battle in a quarry in Belfast instead of in Iceland until I saw the behind-the-scenes video from filming.

Yeah, that was tricky. We knew we were going to be running around in Iceland for the most part for the first half of the episode and then have to find a way to transition to our ice lake, and we were lucky to find an intersection in this gorge that we were in in Iceland that could believably take us to this new set, so that worked out. We had to shoot the frozen lake close to home, because there’s too much prosthetics and pyrotechnics and stunts that we couldn’t do that remotely somewhere on location. We had to do that somewhere near base camp.  

I’m so fascinated by the biology of the dragons – can you talk me through the process of what happened to Viserion after the Night King hit him and we saw that explosion from his throat?

A tremendous amount of thought went into them from the early stages. It was very important to David and Dan that the dragons be quintessentially believable. They had a huge disgust for dragons that had four legs and wings. Many times you see dragons rendered that way, and their point is that nowhere in nature do you see a creature that is built that way. So they were adamant that they had to have large hind legs and that the wings had to be elements of the four legs. 

Beyond that, the biology of how you blow fire and what��s the pilot light like on the inside of the throat … One of the fun things here, and there’s a lot of debate as to how much we could do it, was when he gets stabbed through the throat, he’s trailing blood as he falls. He’s also trailing smoke and flame as he falls. So he looks like a jet fighter going down. We were mindful of what the reality would be if you punctured one of these guys there. 

And then a lot of thought went into the logistics of the scale of it; how much room is going to be required to arc around, how much ice will it tear up when it hits the ground? And besides all that, trying to make sure that it had a chance to play emotionally. One of my favorite shots is the one where Viserion sinks below the ice, and it’s the one time we take a long time with the moment and let it stretch. We’re in a full battle at the time, but we had to let that moment hang long enough… and the visual effects department did a wonderful job of realizing it, you feel the mass of the creature. It feels so lifelike in death. I think it really worked well.  

There’s also a lot of effort going into giving them moments of character. There’s a tiny moment that probably not many people noticed, but when Dany and Tyrion are walking out to the dragons when she decides she’s going to go off on this mission, they’re just waking up from a nap. You see three dragons raising up in the foreground, and one of them shakes his head side to side. That’s because our storyboard artist, who’s kind of brilliant, who has two dogs, knows that when her dogs get up from a long sleep, they shake their head. You can see, I think it’s Viserion in the background, doing that gesture. It’s little observations like that to make sure the dragons are fully alive.  

We see Jon and Daenerys share a moment of intimacy on the ship, but then there’s that subtle shift and Dany pulls away and shuts down on him – what’s going through her mind in that moment?

Certainly those who have read the books or are reading the books know that we’ve been heading in this direction for a long time. I’ve mentioned before that it was a revelation to me about the scale of George R. R. Martin’s thinking that he came to visit the set in Season 1, when none of us knew what we were contending with really, and said a few things that made it clear that, for him, this whole epic thing — this story he was telling — all came down to these two and them getting together. 

Of course, back then, none of us knew that. We didn’t know that Robb Stark was going to [die] – he seemed like he was the heir apparent, and the fact that this bastard sidekick brother and this girl on a whole different continent were going to turn into the core of the show, we didn’t see that coming yet. 

SEE ALSO: All your faves are meeting in the ‘Game of Thrones’ finale and there’s gonna be a rumble

I think we’ve known for a while that Tyrion is making fun of Dany, because he sees what’s coming. I think there’s a bunch of things at work in that scene, and they pulled it off wonderfully. It’s just the right level of swooning for each other but drawing back. It was one close-up of Emilia that really tells that story very well, where you see her, she’s going over the edge, and then she forces herself back when she pulls her hand back. It’s probably because she’s got a lot of responsibility. She can’t be falling like this. Tyrion has already made fun of her for this, so she’s got that motive to draw back. I think everybody understands it’s pretty inevitable.  

The tension in Arya and Sansa’s relationship is almost unbearable right now. How did you and Maisie approach that final scene between them from Arya’s perspective?

All my favorite scenes are the scenes between the girls. I think it’s probably because I have two young daughters who spend a healthy amount of time hating each other’s guts. Watching these two feel each other out and test each other and feeling the balance of power shift back and forth between them was a real delight. I remember reading the script and thinking, “Oh my God. It’s eight pages, and they’re just standing there. What are we going to do?”  

We blocked it in a way that felt like it had a little bit of momentum to it, and there’s a nice thing where they’re turning the tables on each other. [In their first scene together, where Arya confronts Sansa about the letter] each one takes some time with the bloody carcasses hanging behind them… you really feel that they both have a case to make. What I also like is they’re both legitimately lethal at this point, and we know that Arya can kill things at the drop of a hat. I think we’re starting to realize that Sansa has gotten somewhere quite dark. She’s learned a lot from Cersei, as she says at one point.   

SEE ALSO: ‘Game of Thrones’ is effectively killing two of our favorite characters

I love the fact that that tension is there, and I just wanted people to feel that you weren’t sure who was going to kill who, but it was quite believable that either one could kill the other. There are things like the dagger in the scene between them and the fact that Brienne is being sent away to clear the deck so there’s no police in town. The idea is to build up the expectation as much as possible that one of them is going to die, and hopefully surprise people by what happens.  

Game of Thrones airs Sundays at 9 p.m. on HBO.

WATCH: The Night King from ‘Game of Thrones’ finally found a use for those giant chains

Read more: http://mashable.com/

[thatstudyabroadgirl]

Since I last blogged, it’s been a few active days in Buenos Aires. The weather has been rough to say the least—it has rained all day pretty much every day that we’ve been here with the exception of yesterday and today. Oy vey! The Universidad de Buenos Aires campus tour would have been really cool since I’m such a nerd for college campuses, but it started thunder storming in the middle and it put quite a damper on our plans. Even the Hospital de Clinicas, the teaching hospital for UBA, was flooded in the lobby. I hope that the sunshine today was just the beginning of the brighter weather to come for the rest of the trip. I think it would really turn my sour mood around.

Thursday was not so great. We started out the morning with the UBA tour, which could have been really great. Silvia was incredibly warm and friendly but the students could barely hear her and were being relatively disrespectful. So my mood went from bad to worse when the sky opened up and it started pouring. By the time we got back to the apartments, I looked (and felt tbh) like a wet dog.

I spent the majority of the afternoon laying in bed trying to get warm and then went downstairs to gather the students for the tango lesson that evening at La Viruta at 6:30. Dr. Novoa was downstairs and she had just had a discussion with some of the students that apparently they were unhappy about the activities planned for the next day. AIE had arranged a tour of a pharmaceutical lab, a free clinic, and a private hospital for all our pre-health students. She promised them (without consulting me) that they didn’t have to go on the planned trip to Pilar and that they could go to museums and do other activities with her instead. This being AFTER the only activity that she showed up to for the whole trip was the Museo Evita because “we discussed Evita in class, so it was relevant.” To make matters even worse, she had the nerve to make ME make the arrangements with AIE to ensure that the group of 8 students didn’t have to go. I was astounded with the sheer gall. If she had concerns about this, why were they not mentioned in March when we received the original itinerary?! If it’s her idea, why is she making me convey it to the host institution?! The students have already remarked to me about how they are unhappy that she is largely absent, so the fact that she’s not only not showing up for them, but also completely upending the host’s institution’s plans is like the icing on the cake. I was reluctant to do so, but contacted the Assistant Dean about how I can have a conversation with her about how her behavior is incredibly disrespectful to the students, to AIE, and to me. I’m in the trenches with the students all the time and she was tapped to lead the program with the expectation that she would be as well. It’s not fair to the students, it’s not fair to me. He offered to intervene on my behalf, but I declined in favor of coming up with a way to strategize how to talk to her. We’ll see what he has to say. I was so incredibly frustrated with her in that moment and the students could tell that I was uncomfortable.

Of course, the cherry on top of the wonderful Thursday was that we were supposed to attend a 6:30 PM tango lesson at La Viruta. Due to the weather, public transit was packed and traffic was awful, so we completely missed the tango lesson at La Viruta. I was so upset—that was one of the things I had been most looking forward to for the whole trip. We stayed for the salsa class, which was still really fun, but I was still kinda bummed. I do have to say, though, I was really proud of everyone for trying. Some were better than others (AKA Ahmed continues to be great at everything he ever does) but it seemed like everyone had a good time. And it was a good workout! I was so sweaty by the end of it!

The tour of the lab, free clinic, and hospital was eye opening. To see the difference between the level of care afforded to people in the same community based on whether or not they have money was astounding. Visiting the fancy hospital reminded me of my dad’s stays in the hospital lately. We truly are so fortunate in the US to receive the care that we do—technology is better, there’s no shortage of supplies, etc. Another thing that was eye-opening for me was the discussion on the Argentinian healthcare system. Finding out about the different types (government funded, obras sociales, and private) and how they all work in tandem was fascinating. The consultant who gave the discussion seemed to think that government subsidization of the hospitals was not for the best because the quality of patient care wasn’t the best—e.g. the hospital has no incentive to be efficient with their care because they’re going to get money regardless of the length of time it takes to treat the patient, but I have to say that we could learn a thing or two from them. Prescriptions for chronic illnesses such as diabetes are 70% covered by the government and drugs for high impact treatment such as oncology are covered 100%. This type of initiative could prevent so much debt in the US, which is the country that spends the single highest amount of its GDP on medical care in the entire world. The students all seemed to benefit a lot from that discussion and the visits to the facilities. One of them even remarked to me afterwards, “Gosh, we do everything wrong in the US. I want to stay here.” It made me internally laugh, because I remember having that same black-and-white reaction to China when I was that kid’s age.

The lunch we had at the hospital turned out to be problematic for me, though, because the only beverages available were sodas. I had maybe 4 oz. of Sprite to ensure that I was able to wash down the empanada, but I immediately knew it was a mistake. I had heartburn for the rest of the night and did not enjoy the evening like I had hoped I would. I found the radio stream of the Lightning game and they were down 4-0 at the end of the second. It was around 11 PM at that point and I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I finally made myself throw up and felt marginally better. But I was definitely a bit worse for the wear since not only have I been dealing with some ethical dilemmas on this trip, but now I was dealing with physical pain as well.

Today I didn’t really do much—I saw literally none of the students with the exception of a few to collect money for our excursion to Uruguay next Friday. I ended up staying in my apartment until about 3 PM, lazing around and still not feeling great. I finally got up to drop my laundry off at a laundromat, exchange my remaining American dollars, and finish my second (!!!) book for the trip. I honestly have no idea what it is about traveling, but I read so much more when I travel. It feels almost counterintuitive because I should be out and about immersing myself in the culture, but I think it’s a way for me to manage the intellectual stimulation. It’s almost like sensory overload if I’m constantly out exploring, so I need some time in a familiar place to decompress while still taking in something new. After all, I am the homebodiest of homebodies. Maybe a book is all the English I need to be comfortable again. Tonight, however, I am writing this blog from El Ateneo. And wow wow wow wow wow. Just wow. This place is magic. It’s a giant bookstore that was converted from an old theatre. It’s just insanely gorgeous. I feel so basic with my love of Barnes and Noble—it seems so corporate and blah by comparison. Too bad I’m not good enough at Spanish to really partake of this place to its fullest extent. I’m also kinda feeling like a poser extraordinaire as I sit here with a brownie and agua sin gas in the cafe writing this blog. After this, I’m going to have another attempt at parrillada for dinner… but tonight I have the Argentinian version of Alka-seltzer in case I feel gross again.

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Let’s Rummage for Good Thank you

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Let’s Rummage for Good Thank you

Well, WE DID IT! The first (now annual:)) EHD ‘Lets Rummage For good’ sale is over and my goodness was it satisfying on so many emotional and physical levels. It combines so many of my favorite things: 1.) My love of thrifting and garage sale-ing, with 2.) Using my platform to benefit others with 3.) Gathering a community that thinks about serving those less privileged and 4.) Meeting and engaging with so many of you. It’s honestly the perfect recipe for my happiness. Plus the kids came and I ate delicious chicken sandwiches. But my experience and feelings aren’t really what are important here.

I can’t begin to put into words how thankful I am for all the time and energy everyone involved put into this sale. From Pen + Napkin (the non-profit) tirelessly picking up donations to Gina, our incredible event producer, putting in hours of work outside of her actual paying job – GOD BLESS YOU GINA. Then Abby from The Ruby Street for making sure everything went smoothly at the venue plus Lourdes and Zack donating this beautiful space and ALL the volunteers who gave up time out of their weekend to dress up in chambray and help us organize the mountain of donations we had from dozens of very generous people and companies.

And of course, the 600 people who came and shopped the sale to help raise almost $15,000! Yes you read that right. $15,000 was raised with 100% of it going back to such an incredible cause. The Ladies of Pen + Napkin (Catie and Ellyn I love you) were audibly sobbing when they tallied up the final number. I was clearly a wet-eyed mess as well seeing their reaction. With this money, they are going to be able to help so many more families who are transitioning out of homelessness feel loved, safe and secure.

It was full of items no longer needed by some but desired by others. My guilt about the amount of waste in my life disintegrated. It was a good day.

There are SO many people to thank and fun things to talk about so let’s get into it:

First off, these are the AMAZING ladies of Pen + Napkin. Catie, Jess, Ellyn and Debbie. In case you missed the other blog post, they design and furnish homes for people and families transitioning out of homelessness. The stats are pretty staggering with the percentage of people without furnished homes who end up homeless again versus those who have furnished homes. It just goes to show that putting time and love into your space is not for nothing. These ladies spent weeks coordinating and doing pickups for the sale all while still installing homes for the families they were already working with. Did I mention that Catie the founder was pregnant doing all of this?! They are a true inspiration to me and I am so excited for our partnership to continue and for us to help many many more. They are absolute examples for me.

Not to get on a soapbox about this, but we simply don’t care enough about human beings in this country. We look at the economic disparity and wish it were different but not enough people are prioritizing change. Catie and her husband have been doing this for FOUR YEARS. Volunteering for four years to help decorate homes of families with nothing is pretty incredible. Not only do we need to help the families, but we need to make sure that what she is doing is sustainable for her family (aka – people who run non-profits are simply not paid enough and in order for their service to be sustainable we need to help them).

This wonderful angel of a person, Gina, reached out after I first posted about the sale and volunteered to help coordinate since she had experience in such an event. There are two kinds of people in this world – the people who come to meetings with a detailed agenda of priorities, todo’s and next steps (GINA) and then those who arrive scattered, with no pen or paper in sight (ME). She took over, became my boss and while I was involved with the large decisions obviously, even the day before the sale I was like ‘Gina, what should I be doing’. I can’t thank you enough and hope to work with you forever.  The world needs more people like you.

The week of the sale mother nature decided that LA needed a sprinkling of rain, and by sprinkling, I mean flash flood warnings.  Which isn’t completely ideal when you are planning a giant rummage sale and need to load and unload trailers full of furniture, electronics, and clothes. It was comical for sure but didn’t stop us. Look we were even smiling.

Now when I say people generously donated I wasn’t kidding. Den Mobler, a wonderful 20th century design furniture design store in LA, donated HUNDREDS of amazing design books.

Den Mobler I appreciate and thank you so much.

Then we got an email from Makers Mess, an art studio in Silver Lake that also holds design and art classes, that they had 20 colorful chairs to donate. Catie jumped at that because if we didn’t sell at the sale (which they did) she wanted to use them in homes as dining chairs. Win, win. THANK YOU.

I was initially concerned that we weren’t going to have enough stuff to sell, but this is what the space looked like pre-sale. It was stacked top to bottom with so many good products and items.

And your eyes do not deceive you. Those are brand new OhJoy! products. My dear friend Joy, owner of OhJoy! donated a ton of adorable pillows, furniture, rugs, you name it. Thank you Joy!

All of our volunteers were amazing and willing to do anything we asked with a smile. How did we get so lucky? Here’s the first group of volunteers that came at 7am decked out in chambray:) Some were even there helping the night before. THANK YOU!

And of course, my wonderful team Sara, Jess, Julie and Brady were there too, helping prep the event as well as the helping the day of the event.

If you are wondering about pricing on items, I am a big believer in keeping pricing simple at large sales. It’s too chaotic otherwise. So we made color-coded posters to help with the majority of pricing questions. $2, $5, $10, $15 is what the majority of everything sold for. ‘Garage Sale’ prices made it so fun and successful.

And that sale was filled with good stuff.

I was overwhelmed by the quality of items we received.

A local east side hair salon, Establishment LA, donated all of this brand new Aveda makeup. Needless to say it went fast.

And remember when I hosted that Target event at Olive and June earlier this year? Well, Target being the insanely wonderful and lovely company they are donated all the new Project62 products we had at the event to the sale.

The biggest surprise was the insane amount of clothes that were donated. I am talking bags and bags of great clothes. Everything from vintage to new with tags. Also my wonderful friend Jen, owner of Ban.do donated boxes of brand new Ban.do clothes. Thank YOU Jen!

The volunteers that helped sort through all of it are truly saints.

You may have seen on my insta-story that last minute I decided to donate two of my large-scale oil painting portraits. It was a hard decision but well worth the profit we got for Pen+Napkin. I seriously donated so much and I feel soooooooo good about it. I finally have my garage back!

Every time I have an event I get a major case of ‘what if I threw a party and no one came.’ Well luckily people came and it was awesome.

The early birds (those who donated or volunteered) started lining up at 6:45 in the rain! If it wasn’t my sale I probably would have been one of those too. The really good stuff always goes super fast.

I was overcome with joy when I saw the other line (which wrapped around the corner). I knew it was going to be a good day.

The shopping started and the fun was underway.

I can be quite the saleswoman and was convincing this sweet couple they NEEDED this fine gentleman in their home. Did you see my insta-story poll on it?

And you bet I was successful. What a happy family:)

For the record I LOVE meeting, hanging and yes even taking photos with readers. Don’t ever hesitate, PLEASE. It makes me feel good and reinforces what I should be doing every day.

People didn’t hold back on the purchases. This is just one person’s loot!

I still can’t believe it was pouring rain and those people stayed in line and waited to come in (we had a maximum capacity in the room – all day long). Those definitely aren’t forced smiles… You also may be wondering why we had them all standing outside in the rain, and the only reason was we couldn’t let them all in at once due to the buildings capacity and the fire marshall potentially shutting us down. Thank you for sticking through it everyone that came and had to wait in line.

But once everyone was in the rain was a distant memory:)

I really wanted parents to feel free to bring their kids and for the day to be more of an event versus just a sale. I don’t give up time with my kids on the weekends so I didn’t want anybody else to as well. Since The Ruby Street had this amazing outdoor space I wanted to have some fun games that kids could do so they would let their parents shop with the promise of fun later. Enter Joymode and ResisterhoodLA. Joymode is an experience rental company here in LA and they donated these awesome oversized games. Then ResisterhoodLA, a class pass for volunteering organization, offered their services to oversee the games and help in any other way we needed. Having both companies there made the day so much better. Thank you!!

What would a rummage sale be without a food truck right? A bunch of starving, grumpy shoppers. Peaches Smokehouse and Southern Kitchen came and served up some delicious food namely those fried chicken sandwiches with strangely amazing pickles. Seriously if you ever see them on the street stop immediately and stuff your mouth with any of their amazing sandwiches. You and your belly won’t be sorry.

Now that we had Peaches as our food truck I reached out to Amy from Leaf and Love Organics. They make delicious organic lemonade juice boxes with no sugar, are gluten free and vegan. Basically, the best lemonade options for kids and my kids love them.

But in case the adults wanted some fancy spa-like water to help them hydrate during the shopping frenzy, The Surface Library donated these lovely pitchers for us to use.

Speaking of my kids, Brian brought them over so we all could be a part of this together. They are still a bit too young to really understand what this day meant to others but the more they can be around it the better.

Plus a vintage blue belt and blowing bubbles are an easy way for at least Elliot to be very interested.

And Charlie was very concentrated on his fishing game.

Originally I thought that the sale would go until 4pm. Then I realized I was crazy and no sale I have ever had has lasted past 1pm – due to everyone buying everything. And as you can see by noon the merchandise and crowd were dwindling, as almost everything had already sold.

Here is a before and after GIF to show you the shopping damage that was done.

To think how packed this place was and we hardly had anything left at the end. To say thank you feels incredibly insufficient. But THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!

Pen + Napkin are going to do absolute wonders with this money and please if you have furniture or time to donate to them throughout the year they want it and will put it to good use.

There it is. The first (of hopefully many many more) ‘Let’s Rummage For Good’ sale. THANK YOU again to Pen + Napkin, The Ruby Street, Gina, all the collaborators, donators, shoppers and my team, of course. This sale made all of us feel amazing, as giving back typically does, so I am planning to have it be an annual (or semi-annual) event. If you, someone you know or any companies want to be involved in the next one please email giveback@emilyhendersondesign.com.

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