#though the fake dating has entered into the real feelings category and no one is happy about it

[typicallyriarkle]

How could it be anyone but you?

chapter ten of my captive prince fake dating x regency au is up...after about a million, billion years

this is truly the most angst-ridden thing I've ever written, please enjoy xx

[simp-for-mha-men]

𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟 (𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕒 𝕒𝕚𝕫𝕒𝕨𝕒 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣)

Request by @hermionie-is-my-queen​: Hey! Not necessarily a request, and kind of a scenario proposal: but imagine aizawa and reader adopted a cat a while back together, and the cat gets sick, or has to be put down, and it’s just some comforting fluff? Idk if this falls into the category of no angst so if it does instead maybe visiting a shelter to adopt a new kitty? Tysm anyway! Soft aizawa and soft kitties are my fav

A/N: Yes, yes, and yes! I am so in love with this whole idea. I took a little bit of inspiration from the English voice actor’s Tik Tok and from where I live for this one. School just started back up, too, so I’ll now be taking a bit longer to reply to requests. Sorry! Anyways, I really hope you enjoy it!

Genre: fluffy times with a rescue cat and your boyfriend, angst in the first half due to animal death 🌧️💜

Word count: 2.7k

♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥*♥

It had only been a month. One month ago, you lost your precious siamese cat, Willow. Your boyfriend, Shouta Aizawa, had given her to you once you moved into your first apartment together. She was a gift that kept on giving, whether it was hairballs or purrs. She kept you company through the day while your boyfriend was teaching his students, and you both would welcome him home with kisses and cuddles every day.

Aizawa loved Willow just as much as you did. You were both the lights in his life, and without you, he would feel incomplete. After the worst days at U.A., he could come home and feel at peace due to the loves of his life. It tore him up inside that Willow was gone, but he knew the loss broke you apart even worse than it did him.

He adopted Willow when she was 11. The shelter he went to, usually just to browse, was going to put her down just because of her age. Aizawa formed a bond when he looked into her ocean blue eyes. He knew that she would be perfect not only for him but for you as well. In a matter of minutes, the adoption papers were signed and finalized. A beautiful forest green bow was placed around her neck, and she was on her way to meet the better half of her new owner. The three of you were inseparable when home. Midnight cuddles and afternoon snacks were always a favorite among your little family. Despite you and Aizawa never talking about kids in your future, you felt like Willow was your daughter. It was true perfection and bliss. Sadly, it couldn’t last forever.

When Willow turned 13, she started acting strange. She began hiding around the house more, throwing up whenever she ate, and losing an excessive amount of weight. You decided a check-up was in order, and Aizawa whole-heartedly agreed. Praying for a fluke incident was what you did, but deep down, you knew that wasn’t going to be the case no matter how much you wished it to be. Her vet told you both that she had cancer and wouldn’t live much longer. This caused your world to come spiraling down.

How someone handles the five stages of grief depends on the person. For you, Willow was absolutely fine. You were in absolute denial. Over the two years you and Aizawa raised her, she was always healthy. There was absolutely no way that she could have cancer. Healthy cats don’t get cancer, right? You went about your life with Willow as if everything was normal. Aizawa tried to knock some sense into you, but you blocked it out. A week later, a certain piece of information triggered the second stage of grief.

Aizawa told you that he would be staying home to take care of Willow with you, since she was living her final weeks. Saying you were furious would be an understatement. You took your boyfriend onto the balcony and yelled at him for 15 minutes about how Willow was completely normal. You told him that everything was fine and that she would live longer than what the vet said. Seeing you were too stubborn to change, Aizawa refused talking to you about the matter but still took those extra days off. It lasted like this another week before another trip to the vet.

Once you got home that night, you found yourself on your knees next to the bed. You were praying to whatever deity was in the sky or under the ground to save Willow. You didn’t know if bargaining with the immortal was a sane idea, but you had entered the third stage. Aizawa watched you do this every hour of the day, it seemed. He heard you muttering to yourself in your sleep, begging for Willow’s safety. None of this worked, though. Two weeks after the visit, Willow was back at the vet to be put down for good.

The last month had gone by agonizingly slow. Your boyfriend was back at work, leaving you alone to your own devices. The depression had been the longest stage. You wondered to yourself if you would ever get to the acceptance part of the five stages. Nothing you did to try and clear your mind worked. You tried to write, draw, sing, and dance, but nothing seemed successful. Most days, you were confined to your side of your shared bed, sobbing your eyes out until they looked unusually red and puffy.

Losing an animal shouldn’t hurt this much. You had a cat when you were younger, and when she was put down, you were only upset for a week before understanding it was time to move on. Why did losing Willow hurt so much. The question plagued you day and night. You racked your brain trying to figure out why this pain wouldn’t subside. Why did it sting so badly? Why did the tears keep falling?

When you were starting dinner one evening, your boyfriend came home. He seemed to be in a good mood, which was strange for someone like him. He came around, gave you a quick peck on the cheek, and leaned against the counter next to the stove.

“How was your day, babe?” you asked, mustering up as much fake happiness as possible.

You flashed your lover a quick smile, hoping it hid the pain better than you thought it did. However, you had been dating this man for 3 years. He knew you all too well. Willow’s death had affected you so much, which caused him to mull over it for longer than expected. An animal’s death was, of course, sad, but people usually got over it quickly. Why was it taking you longer?

“Are you alright?” your boyfriend questioned, placing a hand on your upper arm.

Sighing, you answered, “Of course I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

You both began a waltz to avoid each other. You stood on the opposite side of the island, setting the places on the table for the both of you to eat. Right as Aizawa met you, you sauntered off back to the stove to turn off the burner. It went on like this for much longer while your words went at each other.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“(y/n)...you’re not.”

“Just shut up, ok?”

“Listen to me...”

“SHUT UP!”

Suddenly, a bright flash of lightning struck outside. The deafening boom from the sky sounded next. In a matter of seconds, a downpour began outside and inside the apartment. Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears. Aizawa froze, giving you time to finally realize why Willow’s death meant so much to you. It was right in front of you the whole time, but your ignorance caused blindness. Just as your boyfriend began to approach you, the tears and truth spilled over.

“She was like our baby,” you began. “Once I moved in with you, I was so scared that you would break up with me. Willow brought us together. No matter what had happened on a bad day, she would fix us back up. It’s like I lost a part of our relationship, Shouta.”

Aizawa was shocked to say the least. In actuality, Aizawa was completely caught off by your statement. He never knew you felt this way about Willow. He knew you had developed a close bond with the feline, but he should’ve noticed sooner the parental role you took for her. He felt like a terrible boyfriend. He felt like he should’ve found a way to keep Willow alive longer. He felt like her death was his fault.

“(y/n), I’m sorry I should’ve--”

“Meow.”

Both of you came to your senses. Did you really just hear a meow? Had Willow come out of her grave to come back to you both? Aizawa looked at you, causing your tears to stop for a moment. Another flash of lightning struck, followed by the familiar thunder. Then, you heard it again.

“Meeeeow.”

Your brain was going crazy. You were already running on endorphins due to the sudden outburst you had at your lover. Now, you felt your fight or flight responses kick in. There’s no way there was a cat at your apartment. Sure, you lived in an area where an animal could get lost, but a stray cat would never be near your complex.

“Meow.”

Taking a deep breath in, you tried to calm your nerves. Silently cursing your boyfriend’s senses, you heard him shuffling over to you. He placed his hands on your hips and kissed your forehead. Aizawa felt guilty. He knew that a cat wouldn’t be outside in this weather, especially if it was a stray. It was just his mind playing tricks on him. His guilty conscience was in full force, or maybe it wasn’t?

“Meeeeow.”

“Ok,” you said, slowly tilting your head up to meet your boyfriend’s gaze. “Please tell me you’re hearing the meowing, too.”

“It’s real?” Aizawa asked, gazing at you with confused eyes.

Shaking your head, you slithered out of his arms. Despite your mind telling you this was a bad idea, you decided to stick with your sudden plan. You were going to check outside. You didn’t know what you would find, but it was worth the risk. Wherever this cat was, you had to find it. You weren’t doing this for you, however, but for Willow.

Placing your hand on the front door knob, you unlocked it and slowly opened it just a little bit. That’s when you saw it. A beautiful tabby cat sat on your front mat, meowing to its heart’s content. It was drenched, laying against the door in search of some warmth. The poor little angel was shivering, but it looked up upon sensing your presence.

“Well, hello there,” you greeted, opening the door wider.

“Meeeeow.”

You bent down and sat on your knees, cooing the little creature forward. Taking your invitation, it sauntered over to you. Once your hand made contact with its back, the cat began rubbing its wet body all over your leg. Laughing slightly, you turned to look at Aizawa.

He was staring at you with true adoration in his eyes. He knew from the moment he met you that you were the one, but this tender moment between you and a stray cat solidified that even more. It was perfect. You were perfect. Despite the past month, he realized what this new stray would mean to you immediately. Willow sent him or her as a gift from heaven. That much had to be true. It was her way of saying that everything would be alright.

“I’ll get some food and water for the little one,” Aizawa said, walking over to first close the door.

“Make sure to get a towel first,” you replied. “I don’t want this poor baby getting sick from being to cold. Right, sweetie?”

The cat gazed at you with thankfulness in its eyes. You felt much different than you had just a few minutes ago. You were no longer sad about Willow. Instead, you were happy her pain had ended when it did, even if it wasn’t in the best way. Somehow, this little stray just happened to choose your doorstep. Your heart was starting to feel whole again. That’s how you came to a simple conclusion: this was fate. The stage of acceptance was finally in your sight.

You and Aizawa resumed your waltz around the kitchen, but this time, things were much different. It felt like the day Aizawa first brought Willow home. You immediately took on the role of the parent, watching your new friend’s every move to make sure it didn’t hurt itself. Once Aizawa brought you a towel, you sat on the couch and began drying off the cat. You discovered during this that you had found an adorable little boy, proud and frisky from his recent adventure.

Aizawa set the food and water out, luring the tabby out of your lap and to the kitchen. He lapped everything greedily, only further confirming that this was indeed a stray. Walking over to your boyfriend, you stopped once you reached his side.

“I’m sorry,” you began, lacing your fingers with his.

“Oh, don’t be,” he replied, smoothly changing the position you both were in so he could snuggle your neck. “I should’ve taken off time from work and been there for you. It was wrong of me to think our lives would go back to normal.”

“But, still..”

“(y/n)...just let me hold you.”

You did what he asked. You let him wrap his arms around you as you both watched your new boy. Unspoken between the two of you was what was going to happen with your newfound cat: you were going to keep him. Of course, he would need to pay for his shots, a proper bath, and new amenities, but that was a thing for the future. Aizawa knew you would bring it up tomorrow morning, worrying about it profusely, and you knew Aizawa would tell you to stop worrying so much, peppering your face in kisses as a distraction.

Once the cat was finished eating, he walked over and began rubbing himself against Aizawa’s leg. Realizing he needed to be warmed up, you reached down and picked him up. He clearly enjoyed being showered in attention and didn’t pull away when you both began talking to him.

“What do you think?” Aizawa questioned.

You knew what he was talking about: his name. Despite only finding this cat outside of your doorstep 20 minutes ago, you both knew this was his new forever home. The name was an important part of claiming a pet, which you made sure to educate Aizawa about before naming Willow. This, however, wasn’t a tough decision like Willow’s name.

“I was thinking Thunder,” you replied softly, gazing into your lover’s eyes.

He hummed in response, alerting you that he liked that name. You purposely chose that name due to the circumstances you found him in, but you also had an ulterior motive. You eventually wanted to get another cat and name it Lightning. Why? Easy answer: why not?

Suddenly, your boyfriend let go of your waist. Turning around, you noticed he began walking off to the bedroom. It was only 7:30, but, of course, your lover was already exhausted. That was one of the qualities you loved about him, though. He could always fall asleep easily.

“You didn’t eat dinner,” you called after him.

“I know,” he replied in a low voice, “but wouldn’t you rather fall asleep with the man you love?”

His words made you blush, but he wasn’t wrong. With Thunder in your arms and dinner long forgotten, you made your way over to your bedroom. Upon entering, you saw your boyfriend was already laying down and waiting for you to join him. You placed Thunder on the bed and went to lay down next to your lover. He placed his arms around you, making you fell safe and secure before someone interrupted you both.

Thunder began slowly crawling up to lie in between you. Chuckling, Aizawa left a little bit of room between your bodies for your new baby to curl up between you both. It felt natural. It felt like home again. It was just you, your boyfriend, and your cat. Willow, you could tell, was smiling down from heaven. You knew she could be fully at peace now knowing you were happy.

“I love you so much,” you mumbled to your boyfriend, allowing your eyes to close.

“I love you, too, kitten,” Aizawa replied, drifting off to sleep and allowing your breaths to match one another.

This was home. This was family. This was perfection for the both of you. Now, Aizawa went to bed with a single question on his mind. It was quite simple but also heavy. When was he going to place that wonderful ring on your finger?

[calpops]

falling facade | c.h.

part three: falling fears

part one: falling flowers || part two: falling freedom

5k words

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

<< >> 

“This is why I don’t visit.”

Arden’s voice brought Calum back to the moment. They sat in his car, parked just off from a coffee shop he and Ashton frequented for paparazzi walks. Calum turned to look at her; she kept her eyes straight ahead, staring at the two paparazzi that lingered on the sidewalk, ready and waiting to snap some photos for press. Calum swallowed down a lump in his throat. She’d just given him an answer to a question that drifted through his thoughts from time to time; unprompted and said with annoyance evident in her tone. She was stoic, a facade of calm covering her features as she lapsed into silence, offering no further explanation to her statement.

“You don’t visit Michael because of paparazzi?” Calum asked, trying to make sense of her reasoning.

“Among other reasons,” she said and turned to him. “There’s no privacy out here. It’s like they’re everywhere.”

Calum tapped his fingers on the wheel, still gripping it, even still buckled in although they parked minutes ago. Neither seemed in a rush to live their first contractual agreement. He contemplated her words and thought how best to respond. He understood where she was coming from, especially when cameras were ready to capture their every move lingering just in front of them. But there was more to it than that; a different side she didn’t know and hadn’t seen.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He asked and released his grip on the wheel, hand rubbing at his jaw then settling on his lap as she nodded; eyes interested and waiting. “Paparazzi rarely ever find us. It’s almost always set up. Called in and tipped off. Prearranged, just like this. They don’t get to have all of us. Not all of the time.”

Arden pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side, deep in thought at the shared secret. Calum waited with bated breath to know her thoughts. To see if she understood the implications he was trying to lay before her.

“I guess that’s true,” she said but then shook her head, deciding against it. “Except, if it isn’t paparazzi then its fans and if it isn’t fans then it’s management and social media and interviews and social climbers and everything is so invasive. Even when it’s all constructed and contrived. There’s always someone or something that’s in your face, using your name, controlling your life.”

Calum didn’t have a response for that. He frowned. Her words settled under his skin and spun his thoughts, bringing them to places he hardly ever ventured to. He had always done his best to live authentically past the glistening temptations of fame and the control that management hung over his head and heart. She was right in some aspects. But he didn’t want her to go into this situation feeling like she was already losing herself before even starting the game. He wanted to redefine it all; play by their own rules and stay themselves in the face of something fake. He blew out a breath and unbuckled his seat but Arden made no move to do the same. Her eyes just flitted up and down Calum, still waiting for his response to her truth.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he finally replied, the seatbelt sliding up and away from him, his hand reaching for the door handle.

“I’m pretty sure we just learned the hard way it is exactly that way.”

Calum watched her right hand settle on her left to twist the fake engagement ring around. It was a new nervous habit and a pointed reminder that her words were valid and they were living under a state of control. Her nose twitched and a sigh escaped her lips and for just a second Calum allowed himself to remember the sweetness he knew they tasted of. They hadn’t talked about that yet, or the fact they woke in the same bed with only underclothes on and no memories to speak of how they ended up that way. There was so much to contend with already it didn’t feel right to arouse new troubles and complications. Calum didn’t know how to get her out of the car but he could see the paparazzi were getting bored waiting; they’d stick around for the money shot of the ring, being the first to capture it would be considered an accomplishment in their world. But the longer they waited the worse the shots would be, the more invasive and irritated they’d get.

“Then let’s not let them have all of us,” Calum suggested and slipped her sunglasses down to cover her eyes. “Show the ring, give them that much. Let’s keep whatever’s real for just the two of us.”

That was the closest Calum had come to admitting there might be something more than a fake engagement in his thoughts. That only two nights ago he had felt like he was falling in ways he probably shouldn’t. That one friendly date and a fleeting kiss had worked their ways into his mind in unrelenting ways. He couldn’t tell her that, not when he wasn’t quite sure what it all meant, and not when they were supposed to be pretending. Not when he didn’t know where she was; if she was okay or not as okay. He could ask her but her ability to evade time and questions and circumstances was daunting. He caught the slight smile she gave him and although her eyes were blocked by the dark lenses of the sunglasses he could imagine they were softening. That the inhibitions she had might be calmed by his efforts.

She finally reached for her door handle and Calum took it as a statement of being ready to face it all. They exited the car and Calum didn’t just reach his hand out for hers this time; not like he did at the wedding. He slung an arm over her shoulders, pulled her close and kept her as hidden from the cameras as he could manage. Her hand came up to hold his, showing off the diamond in the afternoon sun. They wanted the ring, and they could have it. But they couldn’t have her.

They heard the snaps of the cameras, the distant calls of the paparazzi making mild remarks about their sudden engagement. They asked a few probing questions they knew they wouldn’t get answers to. Why haven’t we seen you together before? How long has this been going on? What does Michael think of it? Those were questions they would have to answer eventually. But conversing with paparazzi was never a good idea. Management would likely have them answered in a controlled environment and in any case he didn’t have the answers they wanted. Somehow, answering with it was a drunken accident didn’t seem like it would go over well in any sense. Calum could see the two men on the sidewalk, spared them one glance for a good face shot and tried to drown them and any remarks out as they entered the coffee house. Arden stayed tucked into his side and he hoped the cameras hadn’t gotten much of her face and that she was able to let their words fall away from her.

The line to order was long but it gave them a chance to step away from the cameras and find some semblance of privacy. Venetian blinds covered the windows to keep outside eyes from peering into the establishment. Even though they were out of the way of cameras Calum kept his arm around Arden and she kept herself glued to his side. They moved along slowly and Calum looked down at her and maybe she could feel his gaze and that’s why she looked up, or maybe she was looking up to find him just as he had looked down to find her. She was blushing and biting her lip.

“It wasn’t as bad as I thought,” she whispered, going on tiptoes to better whisper in his ear. To a passerby it might have come off as affectionate. To Calum, with the way her lips nearly brushed his cheek again, it felt intimate. “It’s like… a game.”

He smirked but also felt a pull of remorse in his chest. He was glad it wasn’t so bad for her; it possibly even being in the okay category. But how quickly she was suckered into the game and picked up on it was disheartening. He refused to let them be pawns in a wider scheme more than was necessary. He had fleeting thoughts of shaking the groundwork of public relation stunts. He wanted to play exclusively by their rules while staying within the lines of the contract and meeting all the obligations. When listening ears were no longer around he’d mention it; among other things that needed to be brought up.

“We don’t have to play it their way, we can play it our way,” he suggested in an equally as soft whisper, pretending he was just placing a kiss on her temple.

All of these new forms of contact were coming quickly and winding Calum. His arm around her, hands held, lips brushing soft skin leaving him a bit breathless. The juxtaposition between such intimate embraces coming so quickly and two nights ago of such languid movements guiding them through uncertain territories was astounding. Arden nodded and tipped her sunglasses down, questioning him with an inquisitive look in her eyes. Calum didn’t have time to answer as the line moved along and they were suddenly at the front placing their orders.

With drinks in hand and the exit ahead of them Calum slowed his pace and brought Arden back into his side, knowing the paparazzi would be waiting outside for more. He knew damn well what they had given them so far was enough for a headline; something about the ring being in bold. But the photos were less than expected with her hidden face and his general lack of interest and enthusiasm. The pictures would likely zero in on the ring to catch interest and garner clicks. The walk back to the car came with a bit more vigor from the paparazzi as they realized the lackluster photos they got on the way in. They said things to try and rile Calum up, to get reactions and turn faces. But they remained calm and collected, trying not to make the obligatory event a spectacle. Calum was content to keep it that way until a fear struck through him and stopped him dead in his tracks.

“We need to give them something more,” he blurted out in a hushed tone and it was enough to have Arden pulling away from his hold. “They’ll spin this into something bad.” And they’ll make it your fault sat on the tip of his tongue but he didn’t dare say that.

He could already see the photos of his indifference—towards the paparazzi—being pegged as indifference to Arden. And she’d be dubbed as clingy for sticking to his side though that had been of Calum’s doing. They never showed the whole story, they rarely ever knew the whole story, much more content to run wild with wrong perceptions and lies veiled by half truths. Arden seemed to pick up on what he was implying and gave a small nod to show she was okay with whatever needed to be done. Calum didn’t want to give them too much, still wanting the power in their hands, determined to afford Arden at least a small margin of privacy. Her back was to the cameras when Calum gazed down at her, trying to convey love and admiration, and maybe not finding it all that hard to be convincing, as one snapped more photos and the other began filming the exchange. He pushed hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. Fingertips tingled at the contact.

In a quick and bold movement Calum tilted her face up, pressed his lips to her forehead and nearly forgot about the cameras on them. Playing and pretending was much easier than the nerves at the meeting predicted it would be. It almost felt real. If it weren’t for the incessant clicks of the camera and the blinding flashes he was met with when his eyes opened, he may have been able to convince himself it was just for them. That it was another moment where he could feel the wind at his back and know he was falling. He put another kiss to her cheek and was tempted to give her another real kiss, one more brief moment of sugar sweet bliss, but stole himself and backed away from that want.

“That should be enough,” he whispered and wished dark lenses didn’t guard her eyes. He would bet they would be glistening in the sunlight.

He took her back into his side and finished the walk to the car, helped her into the passenger seat and got himself behind the wheel. An eerie trepidation made way through him. He wondered if it would be enough. Surely, they would use the photos and video of the kisses. Rarely did he show affection in public with past girlfriends. The media would eat it up. The fans would react. Management would be satisfied and unable to turn words and views against her; for now. A new thought struck him, one born of the need to have something other than pretending between them. One that might afford them a chance to speak of all those things that felt unmentionable.

“You wanna go somewhere? Do something real?” He asked as he turned the key in the ignition and the paparazzi began to back off, noting it was time to pack up and head home.

“What did you have in mind?” Arden asked as she pulled her sunglasses up to rest on her head and Calum was met with sparkling and curious eyes.

“Can show you where I go when I wanna get away from everything,” he offered, he had never shared this place with anyone. It was a tiny solace and getaway; a secret offering of peace and quiet. He was inclined to share it with her, to show the pieces of himself that no one else was allowed.

“If all of this is going to last a year I think I’ll need a place like that.”

Calum lost his breath for just a moment at that statement. He had grappled with most of the arrangement in the moment and that night as he laid awake in bed. A year of publicity for him seemed minimal. He was used to the ebb and flow of press and stunts. Arden wasn’t. It was a sudden realization that she would have to put the rest of her life on pause for this. She wouldn’t be able to keep chasing her wanderlust and travel, he wasn’t sure where she stood with a job and education. But those would likely take a backseat. He asked her to do this and now he wasn’t sure if he was okay with all of those stipulations. And for a moment he wondered where she would stay, thought that maybe it should be with him to make things easier until he remembered Michael and the fact he would never be okay with it.

“We can share it,” Calum offered and hoped she would be able to find some semblance of peace and solace too.

“I’d hope my fiancé would share with me,” she joked with a touch of a smirk on her lips and a wave of her hand to flash her ring.

Calum laughed, feeling just a bit of the pressure for her life altering changes lifting from his chest. Making light of it felt good. Mocking it made it even faker than it already was. There was truth in jest but the facade of those truths made words easier and realities a bit less to handle. They went back and forth as he peeled out of the parking spot and headed for privacy.

“So you’ll take my last name when we get married, right?” He asked around a grin that hurt his cheeks.

They were pretending and joking and making each other feel better.

“Oh I don’t know, isn’t that a little old fashioned?” Arden said with a tilt of her head. “And it would ruin my perfect initials.”

Arden Brooke Clifford. Miss ABC. Calum shook his head through laughter as memories flooded his mind. He had forgotten of the times he teased her for it, melodies rolling off his tongue to get a rise out of her. He didn’t know how he could forget and he didn’t know why she reminded him; clearly, he was going to use that in the future. For now he just smiled and turned into his piece of heaven on earth. It wasn’t much by any means but he had a feeling Arden might appreciate it anyway. One of few reasons he never shared it was because he didn’t think anyone would make much of it. But with Arden’s outlook on all that LA was and entailed he knew her perspective would be different than people from his past. It wouldn’t be much compared to the places she’d travelled and everything she had experienced in those adventures but he knew it could hold its own—especially when she was seeking something real.

A run down diner with the best food Calum could find sat before them. He found it charming with its slightly crooked windows and doors that said push though they needed to be pulled. He could usually find a seat within the always nearly empty establishment. He typically picked one in the back where windows left the city behind him. He couldn’t hear past brick walls and the din of radio noise with patches of static. It helped drown out everything and bring him back to a time when a place like this was all he could afford; chump change in his pocket and notebooks with dreams written in lyrics in his hands. Arden was smiling fondly in the passenger seat and that told Calum his hunch was right.

This time she didn’t hesitate to get out of the car and Calum had to race to keep up with her. She made her way to the very last booth at the back and slid into the seat that viewed the wall and not the windows on the opposite side. It was exactly where Calum sat his first time stumbling into the diner. He settled for the other side where the window was in his line of sight and found it to not be so bad when Arden was backlit by a starting sunset. Afternoon had come and gone quickly and evening replaced it in soft glows. Their coffee was left behind in the car and menus placated their now realized hunger.

“I like it here,” Arden said after the waiter took their orders. “Reminds me of my first semester in university.”

Calum loved to learn more about her in way of her offhanded comments. He was learning the less he asked the more he could find out. It was as if the pieces of her puzzle fell together on their own. It was more experience and less questions that prompted her to share. He recalled she was dating Brett, the groom from the wedding, during that time. A silent jealousy simmered under the surface.

“You and Brett went to places like this a lot?” He asked and knew it was selfish that his place—now their place—could feel like it might be tainted by the thought of it. But he was such a Brett and it was hard not to hate the guy, especially when finding out he’d dumped Arden. Typical Brett behavior.

Her eyes shot up at the question and she shrank back in her seat as she shook her head in minute bursts. Calum didn’t expect such a visceral reaction to the question; felt a little guilty about causing it but it was swept away in the blink of hazel eyes.

“No. I went to places like this to not be around him, actually. Sometimes I just needed to get away,” she said as she looked up at him from under her lashes with knowing eyes. “I’d just find some hole in the wall away from campus to sit and sketch.”

New waves of memories came back to Calum and he was beginning to realize he did know her from the past better than he thought. He could picture the drawings hanging on the fridge and as time passed and her art grew it moved from magnets to frames in the hallway. He never saw her working on them, they merely appeared from visit to visit, a collection of colors dominating space in the house. The only way he knew they were hers was the tiny signature hidden within the shapes. There was one in particular that jumped to the forefront of his mind. Sunset on the beach; or that was what he took away from it. It was more on the abstract and impressionist side. But the warm colors came back in swirls of memories and made him smile. Her art was a pivotal piece of her and her heart. Rediscovering her made him warm, getting to know her now filled him with something unknown yet somehow familiar.

“When the band was first taking off it was places like this that I’d come to to write,” Calum said, enjoying the fact that even though their pasts were separated and distant they felt connected and intertwined.

“If you hadn’t brought me here, I’d find that hard to believe.”

“How so?”

She shrugged. “I guess it’s just surprising. I thought you would’ve been partying or… something.”

Calum huffed out a breath and shook his head. Those days came later and at times he wished they hadn’t come at all. He licked his lips and let his teeth sink into his lower lip as he tried to figure out what to say. Those days were plastered online and in tabloids, he couldn’t exactly hide from them but he felt so removed from it; as if that person wasn’t him. He didn’t know how to answer.

“I guess I was wrong,” she said and gave him an easy out from where the conversation could head.

Calum appreciated her ability to pick up on when to ease up. There were people that came in and out of his life that didn’t understand that sometimes the past needed to stay in the past. Arden’s peg of social climbers clung to his past. He’d gotten rid of those people, cut back on partying and focused more on himself. It wasn’t a time he loved revisiting. He supposed Arden being so hard of opening up made her understand his outlook on that perspective.

They sat in silence for a few moments, Arden’s gaze never breaking from his. His fingers tapped the table. Paper placemats with advertisements and crossword puzzles sat in front of them, a small pile of multicolored crayons were deserted on the far corner of the table. Arden flipped her placemat to the blank side and reached for a crayon, giving Calum a smile before dipping her head down to concentrate on drawing. Her arm came up to block Calum’s view.

“Keeping secrets?” He asked, thankful for the sudden shift but couldn’t help but feel the double entendre of the simple question directed back to him and the silence they had lapsed into.

She nodded but didn’t look up at him; kept her eyes on her work. Her eyebrows furrowed and nose slightly twitched in her concentration. He asked if she would at least tell him what she was drawing.

“You,” she admitted nonchalantly and left Calum winded and grinning and wanting more than ever to take a sneak peek. “Sit still, no peeking.”

Calum went still as a statue at her command. A relaxed smile formed on his face as he watched her work. He couldn’t see the drawing but the red crayon in her grip was an interesting choice. Though the few different shades of blue and yellow still laying on the table would have been just as bold. It didn’t take her long to finish and look up with bashful eyes and blushing cheeks. He knew she was modest about it but her unrelenting hold of eye contact as she pulled her arm away to reveal the piece mimicked confidence so well he nearly bought it.

With just the couple of minutes she had taken to draw him she managed to make him recognizable and interesting. It was sharp and quick lines, angular connections and somehow soft eyes. Calum’s hand came up and hovered over it, eyes asking if it was okay for him to take. She gave her permission in the form of another nod and pulled the abandoned crayon off the paper. Just as Calum was bringing it to himself their waiter came out with their meals and broke the moment of awe he found himself in. He wordlessly and carefully folded it to fit in his wallet and tucked it away so it’d be safe from the food.

“Have you told your parents yet?” Arden asked as they started to eat. Her expression was guarded and her voice shook through the syllables. “About… us?”

“Not yet,” Calum answered quickly. “I didn’t know what to say when my mum called so I said I’d call her back. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay with however we tell them. Maybe we should do it together.”

“Tell them about our drunken escapades together?” She asked with an incredulous arch to her brow as she shook her head. “I don’t want to disappoint my parents anymore than I already have.”

That statement caught Calum’s attention tenfold but much like Arden hadn’t pressed him, he wouldn’t pry; noting the restless fidget of her fingers bouncing her fork up and down. He figured she would tell him when she was ready. Just like at the wedding and in the car and even sat here at the booth. She was no open book but her pages could be read in small bursts of allowance.

“We can tell them whatever you’re okay with,” Calum offered.

“I’m not sure what I’m okay with.”

The contracts they signed included non disclosure agreements; to keep the facade from being known. In most cases Calum disregarded those when it came to family and the band if it ever didn’t concern the rest, knowing they wouldn’t share secrets. But if it was a secret Arden wasn’t comfortable sharing then he needed to consider her reasons. Michael knew but Calum didn’t know the circumstances between Michael and Arden and any discussions that may have taken place with them. Ashton and Luke had questions; enough to flood Calum’s phone with dozens of texts and voice memos. He hadn’t replied yet; once again wanting to be sure Arden was okay with the secrets being shared. He wouldn’t mind family and the band knowing. The contemplative expression on her face told him it wasn’t as cut and dry for her; he wondered why she didn’t want to tell the whole truth but in an effort to preserve the light mood and getaway they had found he changed the subject.

“We can figure it out later,” he suggested and the downtrodden mood suddenly dispersed as she broke from a haze of thoughts he didn’t understand. “Right now let's just enjoy some time away.”

She agreed to that with a timid smile and a whispered thank you. They spent the rest of the meal with idle chit chat and a determination to keep conversation away from the fears and troubles their situation plagued them with. They left when the sun was nearly set and the sky was dark purple, the air crisp and cool. Calum, without thinking, offered his jacket to her—never knowing how she could run around in tank tops and shorts when the temperature made him shiver past leather. With a blush and a shrug she accepted as they made their way back to the car.

“It was nice to do something real with you,” she said as they cruised down the highway, his jacket wrapped around her shoulders.

Calum couldn’t help but think of how real it had been and felt. His arm wrapped around her, lips brushing her face, sharing secrets and a special place, red lines on a placemat and tumbling fears shooting through both of them. It was calm and exhilarating. A perfect balance between the charade they put on for the paparazzi and the authenticity the diner brought them. Calum wanted to do something real in place of anything staged; wanted to find their own path to walk while simultaneously fulfilling written requirements. The next would be a social media post and thoughts of how to keep themselves real in the face of something so tailored and constructed were already surfacing in Calum’s mind.

Michael was outside when they pulled into his driveway and Arden slipped Calum’s jacket off. She gave it back with a bashful smile and leaned over for just a moment, another gratitude brushing across his cheek in a split second. He didn’t know why she was thanking him but he appreciated the feel of her words against his skin and the warm scent of honey and peaches that infiltrated his senses. He watched her leave, saw Michael lead her past the door and waited until it shut before peeling out. The quick drive to his place was silent aside from the hum of the engine. A hundred thoughts consumed him, some confusing and some that felt okay. The chance that something real—something more than a contract could control and define—might be blooming between them left Calum’s falling fears in a warm and airy embrace.

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[duhragonball]

I’m posting this video as a reminder to myself to sit down and watch it when I’ve got an hour and forty-five minutes to spare.   My understanding is that it explains the “pro vs. anti” thing that I’ve seen people talk about, but never in enough detail that I could figure out what the thing was that people were supposed to be for or against.  

I’ve been a huge nerd for over thirty years now, and it always feels like I’m just close enough to some big argument that I hear about it, but I’m never close enough to actually know what the hell it’s about.  I will hear people say, “Oh, the fandom is so toxic”, and I have no idea what they’re talking about, because it’s usually a bunch of stuff that went down where I never would have been able to see it.    I don’t know if that makes me smart for staying out of these controversies, or clueless for being so unaware of them.  

This has always been my approach: if I like a thing enough, I might devote some of my internet presence to that thing.   I don’t really see myself as part of the “Dragon Ball fandom” any more than I’m a part of the “wrestling fandom” or the “chemistry fandom.”  If I ever started a Star Wars blog, that would only mean I was bored enough to do it.   It would not mean that I had entered the “Star Wars fandom,” something I presumably did in 1980.

The “wrestling fandom” has this shibboleth called “the IWC”.   I think it dates back to the 90s, when fans using the internet could talk about backstage politics and openly acknowledge that the matches were fake.  This led to terms like “internet wrestling community”, to distinguish these kinds of fans from the mainstream.   It’s 2021, and everyone and their mother is on the internet now, but for some reason people still talk about “the IWC”, and blaming “them” for everything that’s wrong and toxic in professional wrestling.   If only those keyboard warriors would go outside and touch some grass, and let the real wrestling fans enjoy the product.  

I think there’s a similar phenomenon in other "fandoms” , where the public perception of it is shaped by vocal minorities: the most toxic fans, the most well-known fans, or the most communal fans, the ones who make an active effort to band together under a common banner, for better or worse.   They just don’t have a name for their boogeyman, like “the IWC”, a name that falls apart under scrutiny.   If everyone’s using the internet, then it’s silly to blame an “internet community” for making things worse.  

So maybe the term “fandom” has reached a similar obsolescence.   In theory, it should only mean “people who like (x)”, but in practice it seems to mean “people who make it their business to be part of the fandom.”   But it seems like the only way to be that big a contributor is to be really popular, or tribalist, or toxic, or some combination of the three. 

I remember writing a thing about Dashcon after it happened, and I was mostly like “What the hell was that supposed to be?”  I don’t think I even knew about Dashcon until it happened, and I was like “Oh, I could have gone to this,” and then I realized I had no idea what it was trying to be.   I always thought of my online presence as a way to share hobbies, talk about favorite TV shows, that sort of thing.   The Dashcon crowd seemed to think they were making “Tumblr University” a real thing, like they were trying to start a cult and not enough people showed up.   Not everyone who watches Xena is qualified or inclined to organize XenaCon ‘97.  

Maybe I should have just started watching Sarah Z’s video in the time it’s taken me to write this, but I’m kind of in the groove so I’m going to keep going.   I want to follow this line of thought.   “Popular, toxic, and tribalist” seems to work well as three categories of fandom problems, as I’ve seen them.

1) A “big name fan” goes too far, or gets too big for their britches, and people turn on them en masse.   Think Logan Paul filming a dead body in Japan.  There’s smaller versions of that all the time.  

2) Entitled assholes harass someone over one thing or another. Twitter has really opened my eyes regarding the sheer gall of some people when it comes to art theft, reposting without credit, etc.   They will not only double down on their perceived right to screw over content creators, but they will then turn on the same creators for daring to stand up for themselves.  This also extends to professionals as well, like when Vic Mignogna’s fanbase decided to turn into his personal army against Funimation and the voice actors listed in his ill-advised defamation lawsuit.  

3) Us versus them mentality.  I think “pro vs. anti” has something to do with shipping characters below a certain age range.   I got that impression once, but something tells me it’s kind of an amorphous argument, and I’ve seen people expand “age of consent” into all sorts of things.   Is it okay to “age up” a character?  What about two adults with a big age-gap?   What if a character just “looks” younger than they are?   What if some people?   Write creepy shit?   To cope?  I’m pretty sure a lot of this is just trying to find a hill to die on, a hill popular enough and noble enough to make it worth their while.  

Loyalty has been on my mind for a while.    This idea that if you support someone hard enough, long enough, they will reciprocate that support when you need it.   But it doesn’t always work that way.   You can put all this time and energy into a relationship and then it turns out the other person was taking you for granted the whole time.  For you, it might be a big deal, but they can take it or leave it.   It’s an imbalance, and it’s not a healthy one.

And all three of the above are examples of that imbalance.  These toxic movements always seem to center around some cult-of-personality, like an artist or a voice actor.   They might be a good person, and a group of people try to take them down out of spite, or for sport.   Or they might be a jerk, and they throw their weight around and people will defend them out of social inertia, or a misplaced sense of loyalty.   Or there might not be a BNF involved at all, and it’s just groups of people rallying around whatever flags they’ve made up for themselves.   They each try to demonize the other side to make themselves feel noble, a mutual admiration society.   But I think it always comes down to loyalty, this idea that if I just stick with this person or cause long enough, it’ll pay off later.   That’s why so many of those Capitol rioters thought Trump would pardon them, even though he didn’t even know their names.

That’s not a “fandom” issue.  That’s a human issue, and I’m not sure there’s a fix for that.  I’ll see people lament how terrible a particular fandom is, and I always think “I never hear about the good ones.”  I think that’s because there are no good or bad fandoms, only good or bad experiences.

In any event, I think I’ve reached the conclusion that loyalty isn’t something to be given lightly, since it isn’t always returned.   The hill you’re dying on can’t love you back, and sometimes the people dying on it with you aren’t that into you either.   

[zwritestuff]

Some Things Are Bound To Be (Chapter Three) - Kyara

A/N: Me? Actually updating regularly and not letting the months go by? Who would've thunk. This chapter actually took me a lot of erasing and deleting, and there are some scenes that didn’t make the cut, but I like the end result! Hope you guys do too :D This ended up being 4.5K, so it’s quite a treat. A million thanks to @fromthenorthernskies​ for screaming on the doc beta-ing this chapter!

AO3 Link!

Kyne would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy having lunch with Kiara; it was way too different from sharing a coffee and sweets in Kyne’s office in the middle of the day. Now they weren’t alone, and they had to lower their voices when they wanted to laugh loudly, but it was nice. She always has a good time when she’s with Kiara.

She learns that Kiara’s favorite color is purple, her favorite movie is Beetlejuice and one day she wants to have a pet chameleon so when she dresses it up, it changes its color to the one of the garment. Kyne tells her that’s something a privileged rich kid would say, but it oddly makes sense - and that if she ever does it, she expects to see a picture.

When it’s time to come back to the office, they walk through the streets with their shoulders bumping and their hands brushing ever so slightly, neither of them having the courage to grab the other’s hand. That’s until they cross a particularly busy street, and Kyne wraps her pinky around Kiara’s. To not lose her, she mumbles, not sure if she heard her. Their fingers stay intertwined even when they make the walk to Kyne’s office, closer than they should be in an empty hallway with space to spare. 

They get a few stares, and Kyne feels her free hand twitch. She tries to brush it off and focus on what Kiara is telling her instead. She’s talking about the ball, and how they will go about dress shopping on Friday.

“If you drag me to go shopping before I’ve had a shower, I’m breaking up with you,” Kyne says, coming to a stop in front of the door of her office, letting go of Kiara’s finger. Kyne could swear she saw Kiara look disappointed for a brief moment, but if it happened she doesn’t bring it up. Why would she, anyway?

Kiara laughs shortly, and dismisses it with a wave of her hand. “I’ll pick you up from your place after you get a shower, then we go shopping. That sounds okay?” She asks gently, clasping her hands behind her back. Kyne has noticed she does that a lot when she talks to her. Not that she thinks much about it, or Kiara for that matter.

“Sounds fine to me,” she agrees, smiling with satisfaction. Kiara smiles back, saying she should get back to her office, promising to text her later. Kyne furrows her brow at that, only the slightest bit concerned. “You still haven’t told me how you got my number, y’know. It’s kinda creepy,” she says before Kiara can bid her goodbye.

“If you think about it, I have everyone’s phone numbers at my disposal. Whether I decide to make use of them or not, that’s up to me.” Kiara shrugs, Kyne stares at her for a moment. She hadn’t thought about that.

“You know, sometimes I forget one day you’ll inherit this whole thing,” Kyne comments. It’s not a lie though. She has never met someone as powerful as Kiara that just decided to hang out with her employees instead of all the other powerful people. Sometimes Kyne forgets she could fire her if she got on her nerves, and treats her like she’d treat an old friend. 

It seems to work in her favour, though; her friends always ask her how she had struck a friendship with none other than Kiara, the infamous heir of the company that never cracked a smile. Kyne was always skeptical of that - whenever she hung out with her, Kiara was nothing but a giggling mess, not the stoic person her friends, and everyone else apparently, made her to be.

Perhaps she was the only person with the privilege of being able to make Kiara laugh. She wouldn’t mind that in the slightest.

Kiara just stares at her with an amused smile, and Kyne proceeds to explain herself after a moment. “You steal the cupcakes you bring me and always ask me if I have a spare charger, when you have the money to buy an entire cupcake shop and a thousand chargers if you want to,” she explains with a grin, and Kiara laughs wholeheartedly, the slightest hint of a blush appearing on her cheeks.

She’s decided her new favorite thing is making Kiara laugh, not only because it seems she’s one of the few people able to make her smile, but also because she throws her head back, scrunches up her nose and drops the invisible weight from her shoulders. It suits her a lot better.

“Stolen cupcakes are the best cupcakes,” Kiara jokes with a complicit smile. Kyne chuckles, rolling her eyes. “I gotta go for real now, but have a good rest of your day.” She smiles, waving at her, and Kyne waves back.

“Have a good day, and don’t fire anyone!” She jokingly exclaims, entering in her office.

She’s barely settling down in her chair, wondering when Kiara would text her, when Priyanka, Bo, and Scarlett enter without knocking and Kyne sinks in her chair when they all give her curious looks.

In the grand scheme of things, Kyne hadn’t considered the fact that her friends were all but trying to get her to ask Kiara out and scam her to get her money, only for Kyne to always shut them down by saying they’re just casual friends - they said it so often she swore it wasn’t a joke anymore.

They have questions, questions that Kyne isn’t prepared for answering, because she never really asked Kiara if she could tell her friends that this is fake - though she supposses she can’t, if the conversation they previously had means anything.

“Oh, there’s nothing going on between me and Kiara, you guys are just imagining things!” Scarlett mocks, mimicking her voice. Kyne groans, sinking into her chair and covering her face with her hands. “So you lied to our face this whole time? You bitch,” they complain, folding their arms.

“Normally I don’t agree with Scarlett, except now,” Boa pipes up, “Bitch,” she echoes, and Kyne swears she’ll snap her optic nerve by the strength she rolled her eyes with.

“Would you guys let me explain?” She exclaims in frustration. “There should be a category in the Olympics for jumping into conclusions, you all would excel at it,” Kyne comments, cocking a brow.

Priyanka takes a seat in the free chair on the other side of the desk, looking solemnly at her. “Firstly, you know I would. Second, go right ahead, then. Explain,” Priyanka says, cocking a brow in her direction. Kyne looks at her friends, and they all have the same stern, confused look. Shit.

She bites the inside of her cheek, thinking of something to say that’s convincing enough to appease her friends. She knows lying isn’t good, but if she already messed herself up in a lie of gigantic proportions, what would another little white lie do?

“It’s not like I’m dating Kiara, per se,” she begins, “We’re just getting to know each other.” The skeptical looks don’t vanish from her friends’ faces, and Kyne fidgets with her hands under her desk before dropping the bomb. “And she’s bringing me to a charity ball on Saturday,” she muses, speaking fast enough to make her words almost unintelligible. She purposely leaves out the part about meeting Kiara’s parents, because her brain might be good with numbers, but not with coming up with lies on the spot.

“Excuse me, what?” Bo says, furrowing her brow. “Did you just say she invited you to the Starzy Charity Ball?” She asks, eliciting an over the top gasp from Scarlett and Priyanka. Kyne cocks a brow, is this ball of common knowledge? Maybe they weren’t lying when they said the company could be shutting down and Kyne wouldn’t know.

“When did your hoe ass land a date with Kiara Schatzi and an invitation to the Starzy Ball?” Priyanka inquires, sounding as confused as she looks. Kyne would laugh at their collective reaction if she didn’t feel the slightest bit annoyed.

“I am very charming when I want to, thank you very much,” she replies, matter-of-factly, with a shit-eating grin. 

Scarlett perches themself against the desk, folding their arms with a childish pout. “So you’re telling us you’ll be at a ball full of rich people, and you still won’t consider my magnificent plan of scamming some of them, running away and not work a day of our lives again?” They dramatize, bringing a hand to their chest.

Kyne snorts, quickly laughing along with her friends. Of course Scarlett takes every opportunity they get to talk about their “millionaire plan” as if it was that easy. At this point, Kyne just brushes it off as an in-joke.

They stay at her office a little longer than they should, trying to get all the details out of Kyne, but she keeps her answers short and concise, not giving much away - though there’s not much to say, really, and she’s not particularly good at lying, especially to her friends. Especially to Priyanka. Kyne swears she can smell the bullshit even before it comes out.

She’s surprised when Priyanka seems to believe her; out of the three of them, Kyne suspected she would be the one to pick up on the plot holes in her story. But she has yet to look suspicious, so she tries not to worry about it.

They finally leave her office when they notice the time and that they should be back to work, but they make it very clear that they want every detail possible about the ball, and that she’s not going to escape their query once Sunday arrives.

“How do y’all know I’m not going to be with Kiara on Sunday too?” Kyne challenges playfully, earning a screech from her friends. She has no idea where that came from, and almost right away she regrets it.

“Damn, you had lunch once and you already wanna climb on her?” Scarlett teases, making Kyne blush on the spot. She tries to stammer out an answer, but before she can they’re biding her goodbye and leaving the office.

The door is shut closed again, and Kyne groans, rubbing her eyelids. Well, that didn’t go as bad as planned, but it certainly didn’t go as smoothly as she would’ve wanted. She hopes and prays that the last line doesn’t find it’s way to Kiara’s knowledge.

Speaking of which, she hears the text alert go off in her phone, and when she goes to check, she bites back a smile when she reads it and sees it’s from Kiara.

***

Friday comes before Kyne can even notice it, and when she arrives at work that day, she feels her hands twitch every so often at the thought of going shopping with Kiara once work is over. They had exchanged a few texts here and there over the past two days, agreeing on an hour and talking about their boundaries when it came to money - though that was more Kyne's doing than Kiara’s.

It's one thing to let Kiara buy her a coffee or a cupcake; it's not that big of a deal, and something she can repay easily. But letting Kiara buy her a dress that costs about the same as her rent is a completely different thing, and she made sure to voice her concern to her to avoid any misunderstanding. Kiara had understood, but she said that, in the slight case a dress caught Kyne's eye and it happened to be expensive, it wouldn't bother her to buy it.

If anything, it's the least I can do to thank you, honey, she had texted her, and the pet name had left Kyne speechless for a couple moments. She had no idea how to answer it, so she just left it at that. Though she thinks about it more than she should.

She's chewing on a pen, reading a report they had sent her with a request to calculate the budget for a new hotel the company was building in partnership with some other rich people. Exciting stuff to do on a Friday morning, basically. There's a knock on the door, and she tells whoever it is to come in. She doesn't even need to look up to know it's Kiara.

A cupcake is settled in front of her, and she smiles when she looks up and finds Kiara staring right back at her. 

“Good morning,” she says, sitting in front of her and taking a sip from a Starbucks foam cup. Kyne bids her good morning too, and takes a bite from her cupcake. “Ready for today?” Kiara asks, with a playful gleam in her eyes. Kyne bites the inside of her cheek, fidgeting with her hands.

“I have a feeling that I should be worried,” she comments, chuckling nervously. Kiara laughs shortly, dismissing her with a wave of her hand.

“Don't be, this will be fun! I'm positive about that, it won't be that different from going shopping with a friend or by yourself,” Kiara assures her, but Kyne isn't sure if she should mention that she mostly shops at thrift stores and modifies the clothes she buys by herself, while Kiara probably spends hundreds in one item of clothing.

She keeps her mouth shut, and smiles gently at her instead. "I'll take your word for it, then." Kiara sets the foam cup on the desk, and claps excitedly.

“So, I think we haven't talked about tomorrow, and how we'll get ready together, or if we will get ready together for that matter--”

“Wait, what?” Kyne interrupts her, furrowing her brow. Kiara tells her that she had thought about bringing her to her apartment to do their hair and make-up together before the ball. Kyne plasters a smile on her face, but on the inside, there's a ball of nerves forming in her throat that keeps her from speaking.

It starts to dawn on her that, tomorrow, she'll know yet another face of Kiara at the ball, and she'll have to act accordingly to it. She'll have to hang from her arm like arm candy, talk to people that could buy her entire apartment complex without batting an eye, and actually meet Kiara's parents, whom she had only seen briefly in the hallways and never dared to look in the eye. 

Maybe this was a hell of a bad idea disguised at just being not that bad.

She remains silent for a minute too long, and Kiara senses that something is off; she leans forward, looking at her with a tinge of worriedness, and asks her what's wrong. Everything, Kyne wants to answer, but she doesn't find the courage to vocalize her thoughts — besides, she knows it’s too late to back down, and she doesn’t want to let Kiara down.

So she swallows her fears, clears her throat and tries to lie as best as she can.

“I’m kinda intimidated at the thought of meeting your parents,” she says, which isn’t technically a lie, but it isn’t all of the truth either. Kiara’s expression softens up, and she goes out her way to assure her that meeting her parents won’t be as bad as she thinks, that they’re actually great people. But the only thing that flashes through Kyne’s mind is how fast she will be fired once they fake their break up and her boss is mad at her for breaking his daughter’s heart.

Kiara is talking, she sees her lips moving, but the words don’t reach her ears. Kyne takes a deep breath, and tries to concentrate on what she’s saying.

“Besides, you’re already pretty, it shouldn’t take you too long to get your makeup done, right?” She says, giving her a sly wink. Kyne blinks repeatedly before blushing — well, that’s what she gets for zoning out.

Kyne tries to shut down all the negative thoughts, and gives Kiara a genuine smile. Or as genuine as she can.

“I can try to paint fast, I guess,” she offers, biting the inside of her cheek, hoping Kiara hadn’t noticed she wasn’t paying her attention.

Kiara smiles, the conversation goes on and Kyne tries her best to not let her anxiety eat her up, which is easier said than done.

***

It turns out that going shopping with Kiara is fun, despite the initial awkwardness when she had picked Kyne up and neither knew what to say to break the ice. It oddly felt like a blind date, in which you have no idea how your date even looks like, but that wasn’t exactly their case. So after some moments of uncomfortable silence, Kyne had asked Kiara if she had started How To Get Away With Murder like she promised she would do, and the conversation just flowed naturally.

Kiara takes her to the fancy side of the mall, with stores with prices so expensive Kyne and her friends could never afford, so they took pictures of the garments on display and then commissioned Kyne to recreate them for much cheaper. She drags her through three different stores in the span of an hour, searching all over for something that Kyne likes and agrees on the price of - the later was harder than they had imagined. Kyne doesn’t need her degree in math to know that their concept of cheap isn’t the same.

Their hunt in store number three isn’t successful, even though Kiara insisted she tried on a red mermaid gown on sale that would look beautiful on her - which it did, but it was too tight for Kyne’s liking, and it didn’t come in any other size.

“You know, you could buy me some nice fabric and I could wipe out a whole dress overnight. I did that for my high school prom,” Kyne comments as they’re leaving the store, and Kiara cocks a brow, amused.

“Wait, for real? I didn’t know you could sew,” she says, signaling Kyne to keep walking forward. Their hands brush again, just like on Wednesday after lunch, and Kyne wants to reach for Kiara’s hand and squeeze it tight so she doesn’t lose her in the crowd. But she desists from it.

“Yeah, my Lola taught me new things every time I visited over the summer when I was a kid. She says I came out just like her, because my mom can’t even thread a needle,” she tells her with a giggle, remembering all the summers she spent sitting next to her Lola, watching her sew beautiful garments, rummaging through her sewing room and imagining she was an important designer. 

Kiara snorts, grinning from ear to ear. “Now I kinda want to see what you could come up with if I bought you fancy fabrics,” she tentatively says, hiding her hands in the pockets of her jacket. Kyne wraps her arm around her bicep, pulling out her phone and scrolling through her gallery for a particular photo.

“If I pulled this in one night out from some fabrics I had in my house, I’m pretty sure I can come up with something for tomorrow.” She shows her a photo of her when she was eighteen, after she finished doing her makeup and was getting ready to go to prom with her friends - looking back, there are a ton of things wrong, except the golden floor length dress hugging her frame.

“You look so tiny,” is the first thing Kiara says, and Kyne pinches her arm out of reflex, sarcastically thanking her for the compliment on her dress. “Your dress is stunning, but I guess you already know that.” She gives her a playful smile, suddenly coming to a stop. “You know what? I have a new idea.”

“Oh god, not another one,” Kyne dramatizes, and Kiara pinches her back.

“This one is actually good!” She protests, and Kyne tells her to go ahead. “I need to know if you can sew another dress overnight, though.” Kiara’s tone grows high pitched, and Kyne puts two and two together rather easily, though she’s a bit confused.

“Either you wanna take me up on the fabric offer, or you want me to make you a gown for tomorrow,” Kyne says tentatively, cocking a brow. Doesn’t Kiara already have a dress? And why would she want Kyne to make her one, when she can perfectly buy some fancy dress for herself?

Kiara insists on her question, asking her to just answer with a yes or no, and Kyne says it depends on the design; it’s not something she can do if the design is something massive and opulent, like she probably wants.

She pulls out her phone with a big smile, quickly opening Pinterest and showing Kyne one of her boards. “My mom actually wanted me to get something very extra, but I said ‘mom, I’m an adult now, I can wear whatever I want!’. But in the end, I forgot to buy a dress altogether,” Kiara confesses sheepishly, but Kyne is too concentrated on the board. 

She sees a lot of vibrant colors that would go well in Kiara, and she tries to imagine how long it would take her to create any of those rather intricate designs. Surely more than one day and a half, she thinks - then, one design in particular catches her eye; it’s a floor length dress with a small cut on the left leg, the top half being off the shoulder. It’s fancy enough, easy to make, and it would look great on Kiara.

“I have a royal blue fabric that would go really well with this design,” Kyne comments absent-mindedly, looking back and forth between the photo and Kiara. “It’s expensive fabric though, so I expect nothing short of a royal dress in exchange,” she jokingly says, but Kiara takes it to heart.

“Let's go then, your majesty, we have some shopping to do.” She tugs at her arm to keep walking, with a playful smile on her face. Kyne tries to ignore the fact their arms are still linked, and that Kiara strokes the back of her arm with her thumb ever so slightly.

It takes her two more stores to find a dress that Kyne actually likes and has no complaints about; it’s a deep shade of green, floor length, with a deep cleavage and some delicate embroidery details all over it. Kyne almost rejects it despite absolutely adoring it, all because of the price - Kiara just swipes her credit card before Kyne changes her mind.

The bag feels heavy in her hands, and there’s a tinge of worry in the back of her mind. What if she wastes her and Kiara’s time, and she ends up not liking the dress she makes? She’d be absolutely mortified, not only because she already cost her five hundred dollars, but because she’d hate to let Kiara down.

Her train of thought is interrupted by Kiara asking her if she wants to have ice cream before they leave. Kyne accepts, smiling gently, trying to push her worries to the back of her mind.

***

Admittedly, it's been a long time since Kyne brought anyone outside her friend circle and family to her apartment. It's not as messy as it is most days, and she'd like to think it's cozy enough, with all the pictures scattered around and the potted plants on the windows to make up for the small space. Kiara says something about not knowing she had a green thumb, while she takes off her shoes and leaves them at the entrance, despite Kyne's insistence that it's not really necessary if she doesn't want to.

Having her around feels weird, especially because just a week before all they knew about each other was compressed to the type of coffee they liked and how much they hated corporative meetings. She eases up once Kiara leaves her jacket on the coat rack, loosens up the buttons of her shirt and her hair, flopping onto the couch and asking with a child-like excitement when will they start.

“I need to take your measurements first,” she says, rummaging through her drawers for her measuring tape. Kiara practically jumps off the couch, bouncing with excitement.

“I can't wait to get a custom made dress from Miss Kyne Aguilar herself,” she teases lightheartedly, and Kyne coos.

“Don't get your hopes up,” she deadpans, getting a giggle in response.

Kyne tries to ignore the annoying way her heart beats so fast when Kiara laughs, and she makes her stand very still while she takes her measurements, but she feels Kiara’s eyes following her throughout the whole process. She swallows thickly when she brings the measuring tape up to her hips, writing down her measurements faster than she ever did, trying to ignore the heat creeping up at the back of her neck - though it’s almost impossible to ignore when she places the tape over Kiara’s chest, and now she’s sure her stare is glued on her.

“This should be quick,” Kyne muses, once she’s finished with the measurements, breathing out a sigh of relief when she walks to her cabinet full of her sewing equipment, pulling out basic molds for the top part. 

“You know, if you actually can do this, I’m going to be really impressed,” Kiara says, settling on Kyne’s couch again and tucking her legs under her body. Kyne cocks a brow at her, setting up her things at the coffee table.

“I take payment in cash, not surprise,” she deadpans, eliciting a faux offended yelp from Kiara. She giggles after a moment, spreading out the fabric and fetching for chalk in her pencil case to trace the initial patterns. “It shouldn’t be that hard, y’know? Your design is very standard, I thought you’d want something more, I don’t know, fancy.” She steals a glance at Kiara, who cocks a brow and shifts on the couch, dismissing it with a wave of her hand.

“I’m not a big fan of those big, opulent dresses, honestly. I prefer comfort above everything - ‘sides, I'm pretty sure I'd look like a clown,” Kiara comments, watching with interest as Kyne fumbles with the fabric, making sure it's perfectly symmetrical.

Kyne pauses to meet Kiara's gaze. “I mean, have you seen yourself? You wouldn't look bad even if you wore a sack of potatoes,” she says earnestly, and she's not sure where did the courage to say that came from, but the smile that breaks in Kiara's face makes Kyne's stomach twist again.

“Coming from the woman that can pull off every color under the sun, that's a very high compliment,” Kiara compliments back, causing Kyne to blush slightly and dismiss her with a wave of her hand. 

The next hours pass in a blur of cutting and sewing fabric, making sure she wasn't pinching Kiara with the pins, and Kyne's heart beating so fast it may come out of her ribcage whenever Kiara's laugh echoes through the apartment.

[mariposalass]

Should you Fight my F/Os? [The Mains]

I saw a lot of people are doing this such as @withlovefromlyell @jaklovemail @plucky-belmondo @astralshipper and @goldenworldsabound. So I am going to be making this as well. (not tagging anyone at the moment, but feel free to do this if you like to)

💗Romantic💗

Philip Hamilton (Hamilton: An American Musical)

My dearly beloved can be very scary even if he isn’t armed with a gun! He will just mince you with words, and possibly rapping from the musical & giving non-French speakers nosebleeds by speaking in French. (5/10; looks like a cinnamon bun but could scare you with words)

☮️Platonic☮️

Isabelle Miravelez (Ikaw Lamang)

Yeah, she never fought anyone physically in her series, but be forewarned, she has a resilience of forged iron. In one series I have done in deviantART, she was once trained in Arnis (a Filipino martial arts) and can disarm anyone with or without sticks. Also, her actress does have some of the most intense emotional outputs in her roles and I won’t be surprised if she catches you off guard with just a single Kubrick stare, swipe your weapons with ease, or bonk you on the temples with sticks. (4.5/10; has looks of Maria Clara, intelligence of a genius, martial art skills of Bruce Lee, and a big scary outburst when provoked)

Kirby (Kirby)

I agree with Plucky: Kirby maybe adorable and is definitely a sweetheart, but he is a Star Warrior in spite of his age. Seriously, he has killed gods (real and fake), eldritch abominations, and monsters bigger than him, survived the beginning of World of Light, can split a planet in half in Super Star & Super Star Ultra, and has beat up a monster over a piece of Strawberry Shortcake. It gets worse if you piss him off, nobody dares to hurt Kirby’s feelings! But he will still try to befriend you no matter what. (-poyo/10; fear the small and powerful, although still friendly)

Marina (Toei’s The Little Mermaid)

Unfortunately, Marina doesn’t fall under the category of ‘can fight for themselves in battle’. If you want to hurt her, you first have to deal with her many adopted siblings who can tear you apart and also deal with Ven as he is dating her. No really, I do mean it. (N/A/10; highly recommended not to be fought with at all lest you want to incur her adopted folks and boyfriend’s wrath) @husband-of-lucoa won’t you agree with what I said here?

🏠Familial🏠

Harry Potter (Harry Potter)

As for my big wizard brother, Lord have mercy on you if you dare to fight him. Because of the crap he has to deal with in canon, his dueling skills grew significantly to the point that he managed to beat Voldemort in the end of Deathly Hallows and could easily disarm more experienced adult wizards before turning 18. Also, he has a temper to match and it can scary if he is peeved off, including hurting the fam bunch and me & Kairi especially. The one thing he hasn’t mastered really is hand to hand combat, so he can get punched in the face during a fist fight. Other than that, he is one of the most powerful British wizards of all time, so feel free wand dueling with him. (Has defeated Voldemort 3 times/10; can beat you in a wand duel with no sweat)

Kairi (Kingdom Hearts)

While the first games and pre-Re:Mind KH3 doesn’t have her kick ass much, you will be damned if Kairi isn’t willing to give up during a battle or fight even when in a disadvantage. In KH3, she has started on Keyblade Mastery and teamed up with Sora to kick Xehanort’s behind in the big battle in Re:Mind. She is also a Princess of Light and her purity & caring soul can kill you if you’re not pure of heart. (5/10; Dark hearted people and non-humans beware)

👧Kiddos👦

Edelgard von Hresvelg (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)

Ho boy, Edelgard, Edelgard, my dear daughter... She is scary in the battlefield, is the powerhouse among the house leaders in her game, and has the clever mind to match. How else is she able to sneak an entire army into the Holy Mausoleum in the end of the Academy Phase regardless of the house you pick? That Axe wielding skill is pretty darn excellent, Authority is pretty high too, and she does look like she can snap you into half. Definitely wins the Kubrick Stare contest with Issa, Hermione, Harry, Michiru, and the Doctor. What’s more: if you are in the Blue Lions route and entering the end of the War Phase, she uses her twin crests to turn into a scary powerful Demonic Beast! Yikes! And she is the only house leader who can tap into magic spells with very little problem (since the Adrestian Empire specializes in axes and magic alike, though not as wide of a range as compared to Dorothea, Annette, and Lysithea). Unless you don’t want to get destroyed by the person who goes by the moniker of the Flame Emperor, please don’t provoke her. (2/10; Enter at your own risk)

[aphrodaisyacs]

Summary:

After the stunt they pulled at the party, Tony has taken to referring to Loki and Steve as “clone boyfriends”, a nickname which rapidly morphed into an inside joke amongst the Avengers. It’s all fun and games until it gets overheard by a clueless reporter- now the public believes that Steve and Loki are genuinely an item.

Chaos ensues.

Or: The one where Steve and Loki get mistaken for a couple, but they go along with it to make homophobes mad.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Relationships: Loki/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, James “Bucky” Barnes & Steve Rogers, implied past En Dwi Gast | Grandmaster/Loki Characters: Steve Rogers, Loki (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Thor (Marvel), Sam Wilson (Marvel), James “Bucky” Barnes, Wanda Maximoff, Vision (Marvel), Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel), Peter Parker Additional Tags: Crack, Humor, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Infinity War is still cancelled, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Homophobia, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Genderbending, News Media, Social Media, Attempted mass shooting, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Brief cameo by Tr*mp

(Reposting this on tumblr because I fucked up the first time round)

The sequel to this fic, and things make more sense if you read that one first.

Full chapter below:

It’s been months since Steve had last set foot in New Asgard. Already, the place looks so different- more like an actual town. It’s the one-year anniversary of the Asgardians’ arrival and settlement on Earth, and Thor had decided to celebrate their progress by throwing a festival. The Avengers were invited, though only about half of them took up on the offer- the rest remained in New York to hold the fort, so to speak. And due to the nature of the event, government officials from all over the world have also been invited.

Shortly after arriving, Steve and his friends split up to do their own thing; Tony had made a beeline towards the food stalls, Clint went off to try all the games and activities available, leaving Steve and Natasha to stroll aimlessly together in the bustle of the crowd, avoiding reporters as much as possible and stopping whenever something caught their eye.

Steve is sipping on a sample of Asgardian mead when he suddenly feels his phone vibrate. He fumbles for it, while feeling all too aware of Natasha’s curious gaze on him.

He raises his eyebrows when he sees that it’s a message from Loki.

Steve opens the single attached image and sure enough, it’s an extremely unflattering picture of himself mid-blink, cropped from what appears to be an interview directly following the Battle of New York.

Steve rolls his eyes.

Me [11:42am]

Seriously, where do you keep finding these? I swear you’re gonna run out someday.

A few seconds later, his phone chimes again.

Loki [11:42am]

I won’t :)

Steve shakes his head, but he can’t help the amusement tugging at the corners of his lips.

Me [11:43am]

Btw we’ve been here for a while now but I still haven’t seen you. Where are you?

Loki [11:43am]

I know

Don’t worry, you’ll see me soon :)

“Who are you texting? Your clone boyfriend?”

Steve sighs and looks up to meet Natasha’s deceptively innocent expression.

It’s all Tony’s fault- he was the one who started throwing that nickname around after the party. The teasing only intensified when Loki had somehow acquired Steve’s number and started messaging him with it. It had taken Steve an embarrassing length of time to realise that Tony was just being Tony, and he wasn’t actually accusing Steve of secretly dating Loki.

At first Natasha and Clint were extremely wary of their former enemy’s attempts to contact Steve, but they slowly withdrew their caution when it turned out that Loki’s messages mostly only consisted of unflattering still images of Steve and miscellaneous petty complaining.

“I’m so mad at myself right now,” Clint had said, a month after Loki first messaged Steve. “That guy mind-controlled me. And yet I’m finding it hard to stay pissed at him because he’s just so fucking hilarious. ”

Because Steve’s life is a cosmic joke, Natasha and Clint both picked up Tony’s stupid nickname, and one by one the other Avengers started using the stupid nickname too, the traitors. It even managed to spread all the way to Norway; Bruce and Thor found it hilarious. Loki, for his part, seems to find the nickname rather childish and beneath him. So like Steve, he mostly ignored it.

Despite Loki’s cryptic message, Steve doesn’t manage to see him anywhere for awhile yet. Instead, he and Natasha stumble across the archery competition, where they join the crowd to cheer for Clint until he wins. The three of them then wind up in a nalebinding workshop, and they all attempt to knit their own little patches of cloth. It isn’t as hard as Steve had expected, and he leaves the tent feeling pretty proud of the thumb-sized square he had made.

Around mid-afternoon, it becomes apparent that many of the festival attendees are congregating in the direction of the main stage. Out of curiosity and for a lack of anything better to do, they follow the crowd, and arrive just in time to see the curtains rise on a performance titled “Ragnarok”.

“Oh hey! There you guys are.”

Steve turns around to see Tony stride over with his hands in his pockets, followed unexpectedly by Brunnhilde, who waves at them.

“Hey,” grins Clint. “Where’s Bruce and Thor?”

Brunnhilde jerks her chin up at the stage.

“They’re going to be up there soon.”

Sure enough, a blonde man with a huge hammer strides into view, red cape billowing behind him. The people around them start cheering and whooping, but Tony adjusts his sunglasses and squints at the stage.

“He’s got the whole getup going, but surely that’s not our resident God of Thunder?”

Brunnhilde takes a swig from her bottle and lets out a bark of laughter.

“Oh, not him. He’s just an actor. Thor’s also in the play, just not as himself.”

“Who is he, then?” Steve asks.

She gives a lazy smile.

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Steve has to admit, the play is rather impressive for a stage production. Asgardian technology is truly a wonder, and miles ahead of anything they have on Earth when it comes to stage effects. He watches in awe as the old man on the stage, playing the previous King of Asgard, is replaced by Loki in a shower of light. But it barely takes two seconds for him to realise that the Loki on stage is also just an actor.

Just as Steve is beginning to wonder about the whereabouts of the real Loki, Thor and Loki’s secret evil sister suddenly appears in a burst of green light. Her entrance is marked by her completely shattering Thor’s hammer with one hand.

“Kneel before your queen!” she orders, sweeping her arm out and dispersing the remnants of the prop across the stage in a dramatic flourish.

Scattered gasps can be heard throughout the audience, but Steve finds his attention drawn to the woman on stage for different reasons- something about her just feels unexpectedly familiar…

“Hey is it just me or does she look exactly like Wanda, but with black hair?” Clint mutters.

Brunnhilde nearly chokes on her beer.

“That-” she coughs. “That’s Loki. In his female form.”

“What.”

Brunnhilde is laughing so hard at their shocked reactions that they get shushed by nearby members of the crowd. She was the only one amongst them who had any idea that Loki could even do that, though Steve supposes that it’s rather obvious in hindsight. He already knows from firsthand experience that Loki can shift into an exact copy of another person, so changing genders isn’t that much of a stretch.

Loki seems to be having a lot of fun playing the role of the villain, if the way he (she?) is hamming it up is any indication. They watch him dramatically banish Actor Thor and Loki to a new setting called Sakaar, then skewer all of the soldiers on the stage with blades pulled from seemingly nowhere.

When Sakaar’s ruler, the Grandmaster, is first introduced, the first thing he does is snatch off Actor Thor’s blonde wig and shove him into the gladiator arena. That is when Bruce enters the stage, covered head to toe in green body paint.

“I had to help him with that,” Brunnhilde comments absently.

Natasha whistles lowly. “That’s a lot of paint. How long did it take?”

“Oh, probably a minute. Took much longer to dry though.”

“Woah,” Tony says. “How?”

Brunnhilde shrugs.

“I pushed him into the tub of paint.”

Steve finds himself thoroughly enjoying the play, even some of the more absurd and over the top elements. At certain points he even finds himself wondering just how far the “based on a true story” label has been stretched, but considering the insanity of his own life, who’s he to judge?

He almost forgets that Thor is also supposed to be in the play, until the final act where Actor Thor and Loki decide to instigate Ragnarok in order to defeat their sister. It takes Steve a while to realise that underneath the makeup and costume, the fire demon gleefully destroying the cardboard recreation of Asgard is actually played by Thor. The play ends with a battle between Thor-as-Surtur and Loki-as-Hela, and Steve has never seen a group of people applaud the destruction of their own home so enthusiastically when the curtains finally close.

As the audience begins to disperse, Brunnhilde leads the Avengers to the backstage area. They arrive to find Bruce and Thor being interviewed by some reporters, but before they are forced to awkwardly stand around and wait until they get noticed and dragged into the interview as well, Loki shows up.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite heroes,” he drawls. He’s already changed back into his normal appearance. “How did you like the performance?”

“I enjoyed it,” Steve admits with a smile. “Is that what your sister actually looked like?”

“Of course not,” Loki scoffs. “I don’t think any of the Asgardians are ready to see her likeness again so soon. That was just my preferred female form.”

“Did you look anything alike, then?”

“No. We’re not even related.” There’s a hint of mirth dancing in his green eyes. “I’m adopted, remember?”

Before Steve can reply, he’s interrupted by Thor.

“Friends! It’s been a while!” Thor grins. His enthusiasm to see them again is matched only by the volume of his voice.

“Aww man, you just interrupted the reunion between the clone boyfriends,” Tony jokingly whines. “It was getting sweet!”

Thor laughs.

“Sorry about that.” He turns around to where Bruce is still gathering his things. “Banner! We can finally show them the weapons demonstrations now.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming! I just need to wash all this off first,” Bruce calls back, gesturing at his still-green appearance.

“Sure, big guy,” Brunnhilde says, giving his arm a pat. “We’ll wait for you outside.”

They all shuffle out the exit, completely oblivious to the bewildered glances exchanged between the reporters and cameramen who had witnessed the entire exchange.

The next day, on the morning of their flight back to New York, Steve wakes up to a very ominous text from Sam.

Sam [1:13am]

Call me when you’re awake. Get the others too, if they’re up.

Natasha is the only other one awake in their lodge, nursing a fresh cup of coffee in the kitchen. Her expression tightens when Steve shows her Sam’s message.

They huddle around the kitchen table and he puts Sam on speaker.

Sam picks up after the first ring.

“What happened?” Steve says.

“Well good morning to you I guess. Who else am I talking to?”

“Just me,” replies Natasha. “Tony’s probably still in his room and Clint’s not getting up until he’s gone through all of his alarms. What’s the emergency?”

“Weeell…” Sam begins. “This isn’t exactly the type of emergency that we usually deal with. But long story short, some reporter overheard one of you guys refer to Steve and Loki as boyfriends, and. Well.”

Steve blinks. He runs through his memories of yesterday, and groans when he remembers what Tony said backstage after the play. Next to him, Natasha begins furiously typing away at her phone.

“Oh god,” Steve mutters. Sam makes a sympathetic noise.

Natasha exhales loudly.

Before Steve can ask, she shoves the results of her Google search at him:

‘Clone Boyfriends’: Captain America secretly dating former enemy Loki

CNN

Avengers accidentally reveal that Captain America and Loki are dating

Vox

National icon defiled? Captain America turns out to be gay

Fox News

Captain America has a boyfriend, according to Avengers

USA TODAY

Captain America revealed to be in gay relationship

New York Times

“Oh god, ” Steve repeats.

“Yup. I know you don’t go on your social media accounts that often but I think you should avoid them for a bit.”

Steves rubs a hand over his face. Maybe if he presses against his nose firmly enough then he’ll be able to suffocate himself to death and he won’t have to deal with any of this.

“How likely is it to go away if I just ignore it?” Steve asks, voice muffled by his palm.

He’s half-joking, but he immediately feels Natasha’s incredulous gaze on him. Sam’s snort of laughter can be heard on the other end of the line.

“You’re kidding me, right? Look, I’m not that familiar with the media circus but even I know that’s not going to work.”

Steve lets out a hysterical bark of laughter.

“Really? But people have always speculated on whether I was dating Peggy or Bucky. Or both. And if the tabloids are to be believed then every single one of the Avengers have dated each other at least once. What makes this any different?”

“The difference,” Natasha says, “is that they were just that- speculations. So no one took them too seriously. But this time, from the public’s point of view, there’s actual evidence- an inside source. Namely, Tony. And Thor too, I guess, for not disputing it.”

“But that doesn’t-” Steve begins to protest.

“I know,” Sam sighs. “But that’s not how the public sees it. And now all the news outlets are talking about it.”

Going rogue again is starting to sound unreasonably appealing. Steve’s done it before, so it can’t be as bad the second time round, right?

“Alright,” Natasha says. “We’ll call a meeting once we arrive back at the base.”

Steve sighs.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

Tony chooses that moment to shuffle into the kitchen with a loud yawn.

“What’s this? You guys having a secret meeting while I was still in bed? Rude.”

“Have you checked the news yet?” Natasha asks instead.

“News always comes after coffee,” Tony declares while fiddling with the coffee machine. “Why? We don’t need to suit up or anything do we?”

“Nope,” Sam replies. “You can worry about it later when you come back. You need to leave soon for your flight anyway, right?”

“Uh…” Steve glances at the clock next to the fridge. “Yeah. Talk to you soon.”

The call ends, and Tony does indeed check the news after the first sip of his coffee.

Which he promptly sprays back into the mug.

Steve wrinkles his nose at the droplet which landed on his elbow.

“Ho- holy shit,” Tony chokes. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

He tries to say more, but he’s laughing so hard that nothing else comes out coherent.

Steve sighs and turns to Natasha. Predictably, she’s no help at all.

“As much fun as this is,” she says, eyes twinkling, “I have an ass to kick out of bed right now.”

She gets up and leaves, and Steve suspects that she probably meant what she said literally.

Since Tony is still bursting into fits of giggles every time he so much as glances in Steve’s direction, Steve is left to process his situation by himself.

He absently fiddles with his phone, and he finds himself opening up his message history with Loki. He knows that he has to say something to him- a heads up, at the very least. But after five minutes of typing and erasing the same thing, he simply settles for attaching a link to one of the articles that Natasha had pulled up earlier.

Out of morbid curiosity, Steve reads the articles- including the comments- while waiting at the airport. He finds it bizarre how most people seem more hung up over the idea of him being in a relationship with another man than the fact that it’s with Former Public Enemy Number 1. It’s disappointing, but not unexpected. But it could’ve been worse, he supposes; back in the 40s, even the slightest suspicion that Steve is also attracted to men would’ve meant dealing with a lot more than just having his non-existent love life aired to the world for other people’s entertainment.

The second, slightly more sensible but equally vocal group consists of the people who are still doubting the authenticity of Loki’s status as a reformed criminal. These are the people who are using the scandal as an opportunity to revive the debate on whether the punishment the Asgardian had gotten upon returning to Earth was anything more than a slap on the wrist. After all, could being confined to New Asgard even count as a punishment?

But there was also another surprising group to emerge out of this mess; feeling emboldened by the news that their hero is also part of the LGBT+ community, there has been a wave of people coming out on social media. It’s the only good thing to come out of this mess so far, and Steve genuinely feels bad when he thinks about how disappointed they’ll be when they find out that this was all just a misunderstanding.

It is only after they touch back down on New York that Steve finally receives Loki’s reply.

Loki [3:35am]

Oh my

I didn’t realise we were courting

Why didn’t you tell me?

Me [11:56am]

The reporters overheard Tony’s stupid nickname

And then they got stuck on the “boyfriend” part in “clone boyfriends”

Why

Loki [12:01pm]

The world begins to starve when you don’t feed it a regular dose of scandals

What are you going to do about it? Are you even going to do anything about it?

Me [12:02pm]

I have to. I don’t know what it’ll be yet but we’re holding a meeting with everyone once we get back to HQ.

Will you, Thor and Bruce be free in the next hour or so?

Loki [12:02pm]

You know we can always just go along with it ;)

I’ll ask Thor, but we should be.

Bucky welcomes Steve back with a light punch on the shoulder.

“Twenty four hours,” his best friend deadpans.

“Shut up,” Steve groans, swatting his arm away. “It’s not even my fault this time.”

“Is that a new record?” Sam asks with a grin.

“Nope. That one’s gotta be the time when I went to get ice-cream, then turned around to see him get shoved at a trash can. So maybe ten minutes.”

Steve feels heat rise in his cheeks.

“That never happened!” he tries to protest, but Sam’s howling laughter drowns out his words.

Inside, Wanda and Vision are already seated in the meeting room while Rhodey is setting up the holographic call to New Asgard.

“This has got to be the weirdest reason we’ve held a meeting, ever,” Rhodey mutters as they wait for the call to connect. When it finally does, the holographic forms of Thor, Bruce and Loki flicker into view.

“Before we start,” Steve says, addressing them directly, “has Loki told you guys why we’re having this meeting?”

“Oh, yeah,” Thor replies. “Can’t you just tell everyone the truth?”

Sam sighs.

“That’s definitely an option, but we also need to account for the fact that there are already people trying to get Steve to give up the shield.” At Thor’s miffed expression, he quickly adds, “Because they don’t like the idea of him dating a guy.”

If anything, Thor looks even more confused, and just the slightest bit indignant. Bucky snorts.

“Yeah, right. He’s more likely to repaint the shield rainbow.”

Bruce frowns.

“That bad? Already?”

“Yep- bad enough that even our good ol’ President’s commented on it, apparently,” Clint suddenly pipes up, finally looking up from his phone.

All at once, everyone else except Thor and Loki groans. Thor looks bewildered at their synchronised dismay, while Loki’s eyebrows lift in barely concealed amusement.

“And what did this President of yours say?” Loki asks, in a tone a tad too light to be genuine.

Tony looks up at the ceiling.

“FRIDAY?”

FRIDAY obediently pulls up the clip, and Steve almost groans again out of instinct the moment he sees the President’s face.

“The fake news media has gone too far this time. Now they’re slandering Captain America and making stuff up!”

There’s a brief pause as the audience in the footage erupts with agreement. Meanwhile, nearly everyone in the meeting is exchanging shocked looks.

“Am I hearing correctly or is he actually right for once?” Vision muses.

“I know a lot of gay people and I think it’s great, but I’m a traditionalist man. And Captain America is a true American man who’s done a lot for this great country. He stands for the traditional values of America, not the nonsense that the fake news media has been saying about him. They should be ashamed of themselves, for defiling our national icon like that.”

The clip ends there, and the room stays silent as everyone processes what they just heard.

Rhodey shakes his head.

“Yeah, nevermind.”

Steve finds it unsurprising that the President falls under the group of people who are stuck on the idea of Captain America dating another man. Though he’d honestly expected a little more outrage regarding it being Loki, a former enemy responsible for the dozens of deaths in New York. There’s nothing particularly unexpected about the President and his supporters having skewed priorities, but for some reason this is the reaction which sets off the truest, deepest part of him- the scrappy kid who tried to fight against the unfairness of the world even when all he had were his bare fists.

The anger swirling in Steve’s stomach is beginning to make him feel nauseous.

Across from him, Tony sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry. This is all kind of my fault. Look, let me lend you my PR team for this- they have experience dealing with me, so this should be a piece of cake for them.”

Steve furrows his brows.

“What would they need from me then?”

“Eh, nothing too complicated- I think they’ll just get you to make a public statement and apologise for the misunderstanding. Just y’know, explain that the whole clone boyfriends thing is just a joke amongst friends that got misunderstood by a third party, how you and Loki are definitely not dating, but you fully support the LGBT+ community.”

Steve bites his lip as he considers the option. It’s fairly reasonable, he supposes.

But it doesn’t feel enough.

“Is… there something else you can also say?” Wanda speaks up reluctantly. “Because at the moment it feels like we’re admitting that the President is right, and…” She trails off and bites her lip, looking visibly uncomfortable.

“Yeah it does, doesn’t it,” Rhodey sighs.

While everyone else begins murmuring suggestions, Steve is silently contemplating his situation. It’s just as Wanda said- it may sound petty, but the last thing Steve wants to do is admit that the President and his ilk are technically right, albeit for the wrong reasons. He’s seen the way the President and his Administration have abused their power, time and time again, taking away what little the LGBT+ community have gained. He’s seen that amidst all the hatred and scepticism at his mistaken relationship with Loki, there is a visible part of the community which is cautiously delighted at the news that someone they look up to is one of them.

Tony’s solution… it isn’t bad, but it feels too close to admitting defeat for Steve’s comfort. He wants to do something that will tell the President and his supporters to fuck off and stop using Captain America as an anti-gay symbol. Steve has never put much thought into his own sexuality, partly because he never thought he’d live past 30 and also because he knew how unattractive he was as a partner, being so sickly and small. But he knows how important it is to many people, especially those in the LGBT+ community. And he wants them to know, unambiguously, that he’s on their side.

Steve glances at Loki’s direction to see what he’s thinking, but the other man merely looks back at him with a curious gaze. Loki doesn’t seem emotionally invested enough in the situation to really contribute anything, and Steve gets the feeling that he’s waiting for Steve’s decision.

He sighs.

What else can he even do?

He absently spins his phone between his fingers, but then drops it in surprise when he accidentally unlocks it. It opens up to his latest messages with Loki.

Me [12:02pm]

I have to. I don’t know what it’ll be yet but we’re holding a meeting with everyone once we get back to HQ.

Will you, Thor and Bruce be free in the next hour or so?

Loki [12:02pm]

You know we can always just go along with it ;)

I’ll ask Thor, but we should be.

Steve blinks at his screen.

Huh.

“Hey, Loki?” he suddenly says, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. “Remember the plan you suggested before the meeting started? Do you still want to go through with it?”

Loki looks a bit startled at being addressed out of the blue, but he quickly recovers and tilts his head questioningly.

Thor narrows his eyes.

“What plan?”

Loki’s eyes finally light up with recognition. A mischievous smile snakes through his lips.

“Of course. I would be more than happy to.”

Tony looks back and forth between them suspiciously.

“No, I’m not liking the look of this. Seriously, what plan?”

“We’re going to go along with it,” Steve says, his resolve hardening with every word. “We’re going to pretend to date in public.”

Stunned silence descends upon the entire room.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Bucky finally says.

“I’m not.”

“But-” Bruce looks like he’s at a loss for words. “Why?”

“Because I can’t let people like him, ” Steve jabs a finger at the air where the President’s face was mere moments ago. “Use Captain America as a symbol against a community that’s already been ostracised over and over again for no good reason.”

“And you can’t do that with a public statement?” Natasha asks with an unreadable expression.

Steve shakes his head.

“It won’t be enough. Not for people like him.”

“Steve, no, look-” Bucky looks physically pained. “I know how you get when the President’s involved. We’re postponing this meeting to tomorrow because you’re not thinking straight right now.”

“That’s what she said,” Clint mutters, then winces when Natasha kicks him under the table.

Steve clenches his jaw stubbornly.

“I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Alright, fine,” Sam says. “Say that you do go through with this plan. What exactly are you hoping to get out of it?”

Loki gives Steve a very unsubtle once-over.

“I think that’s quite obvious,” Loki smiles, prompting an appalled look from his brother.

While Steve isn’t in the mood for the usual light hearted teasing, he can’t help but roll his eyes in response.

“If I pretend to date Loki,” he says to everyone else, “then things will continue the way they are- people will no longer get to use Captain America to further their homophobic rhetoric. This may or may not make things better for the LGBT+ community, but it will definitely send a stronger message than a public statement telling the truth.”

“And you don’t care about the damage that it will do to your public image,” Natasha says, making it more of a statement than a question.

“This isn’t just about my reputation- Captain America’s reputation- anymore. I just-” Steve sighs. “I’ve been looking at some of the reactions to the news. At first I was angry at how the misinformation got viral, but then I saw how it led to so many people coming out- they felt like they were able to because their hero did. And I can’t just take that away from them.”

There’s a brief moment of thoughtful silence, until Tony speaks up.

“I know this is slightly off-topic, but it’s kind of important- are you gay, Steve?”

“Tony,” Rhodey says sharply, but Tony quickly holds his hands up in surrender.

“It is important. Because I think that before you go and pretend to be in a gay relationship- such a public one, no less- you should at least have an idea of whether you’re gay or not.”

Steve bites lip and turns his gaze down to the table in front of him.

“I don’t know,” he admits. Now that he thinks about it, he remembers quite a few instances where he’d found his gaze lingering on some men a little too long to be considered polite. But he also knows that what he felt for Peggy was real; he knows that if he had made it home when the war ended, he would’ve felt like the luckiest man alive to marry her, settle down and raise a family with her.

Steve isn’t sure what this means, but it doesn’t matter.

“Loki and I are friends anyway,” he continues, and boy does it feel strange to hear those words out loud, even after all these months. “So I don’t think it’s going to matter. We’re just going to go with it for now, but once people stop paying attention to the relationship we can quietly break up.”

The Avengers reluctantly agree to the plan, and the meeting ends shortly after that. Steve can’t quite believe that he’s going to be faking a relationship with Loki, of all people. But he supposes it’s fitting that if he’s going to fool the whole world, then he’s doing it with the help of the God of Mischief himself.

Belatedly, it hits Steve what it really means, for him to pretend that he and Loki are together. In a relationship.

He has no idea what he’s doing.

The only experience he has under his belt are all the double dates that Bucky had dragged him into, and the almost-not-really thing that he had with Peggy. And look at how well those have turned out.

His inner crisis gets interrupted by a knock on his door.

“Hey.”

Steve looks up from his book he’s long been distracted from to see Natasha leaning against his doorway.

“Hey yourself.” Despite how drained he feels, he can’t help but smile at her presence.

Natasha takes that as the invitation it is to sit next to him on the bed.

Steve sighs and puts his book away.

“You’re not trying to talk me out of it, are you?”

Natasha lets out a disbelieving huff.

“Give me a little more credit. You know I know you better than that. I’m here to tell you a few things before you actually do anything.”

She looks at him, and Steve has to pause at the intensity of her expression.

“You need to remember that this isn’t a mission. No one’s lives are at stake, so you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, even as part of the charade.”

Steve frowns.

“Nat, I don’t think Loki-”

“This isn’t about Loki,” she interrupts. “This is about you and what you’re comfortable with. I’m just saying- all couples are different. Take Wanda and Vision, for example; those two only go as far as hand-holding in public. So if you don’t feel comfortable with certain types of PDA then you need to remember that you don’t have to do it.”

“I…” Steve begins, then swallows. Her concern makes something warm blossom in his chest. “Thanks.”

The corners of Natasha’s lips twitch upwards.

“I just hope for your sake that he’s a better kisser than you are.”

“Hey!”

Me [4:11pm]

Since people think we’re dating, they’re gonna ask how we got together

What’s our cover story?

Loki [4:17pm]

The best lies are the ones closest to the truth

We can just tell them that we began our correspondence after one of the Avengers’ gatherings

Me [4:19pm]

Yeah that works

Can I also expand upon that and say that it’s a long-distance relationship (which is why we haven’t been seen together in public yet)?

Loki [4:19pm]

Of course, Captain

Me [4:20pm]

I’m pretty it’ll make more sense to call me Steve at this point

Loki [4:20pm]

As you wish, darling :)

For their plan to work at all, they need to, at the very least, be seen together in public.

Tony reluctantly asks Pepper to extend Loki a last-minute official invitation to the upcoming Maria Stark Foundation Charity Ball. Bruce too, since Loki isn’t legally allowed to leave New Asgard without being accompanied by an Avenger, and Thor is too busy to take a break again so soon. The charity ball is familiar territory for Steve (and Loki too, given his royal background), so it’ll be a good start for them to debut as a couple.

Steve is still on social media blackout, but in the days leading up the ball, Sam has helpfully informed him that the hashtag #LetCaptainAmericaBeGay has been trending on Twitter for three days already. When Steve brings this up to Loki in their messages, he simply receives a “Guess what else is trending” and a link to the #Stoki posts on Tumblr in return. It’s… eye-opening, he supposes, in the same way that watching a car pile up happen in real time is.

(He will never admit that he’s lost an hour of his life scrolling through that page)

It’s kind of strange how nothing really changes between them. But then again, it’s not as if Steve’s unexpected friendship with Loki isn’t strange to begin with. The other Avengers still don’t know what to make of it (with the unsurprising exceptions of Thor and Bruce), as is usually the case when it comes to anything Loki-related these days.

The day of the ball finally arrives, exactly one week after The Scandal. Steve has to admit, Loki looks good, in his dark and expensive-looking three-piece suit. Loki too, takes the time to pause and admire Steve’s appearance when he sees him.

“Hello, darling,” Loki half-sings in a mocking yet deadpan manner. “Did you miss me?”

This gets a genuine huff of laughter from Steve. It’s quite obvious that Loki is just messing around, but they’re already attracting the attention of nearby strangers who are trying and failing to pretend that they aren’t eavesdropping.

“Of course, love,” Steve replies in a matching tone. He doesn’t even manage to keep a straight face while saying that, but he can feel the shocked gazes swivelling in their direction.

God, this is already simultaneously way more fun  and nerve-wracking than he had expected it to be.

The first part of the night isn’t so bad, but that’s mainly because they are seated at a table with the other Avengers and Pepper. Steve manages to distract himself from the stares by paying more attention to the conversations with his friends and the plate of food in front of him.

But in between the deliveries of each part of the meal, people are getting out of their seats and socialising, so unfortunately that’s what they have to do as well. Steve and Loki stick together throughout most of it, only occasionally breaking off to talk to their own friends.

The Avengers may not trust Loki, but the general public trusts him even less. For almost every starstruck look that Steve receives, Loki gets a wary glance at best and a distrustful glare at worst. The polite ones make an effort to congratulate them on their “relationship”, but when they actually launch into small talk with Steve, they completely ignore Loki as if he isn’t there. Loki doesn’t appear phased by the not-so-subtle unfriendliness, but it still rubs Steve the wrong way. And the worst thing is, Steve knows that they’re probably not even doing it on purpose. After all, the same thing constantly happened to him whenever he was with Bucky, back before the serum.

Steve understands where they’re coming from, he really does- and he really isn’t expecting everyone to to simply drop their grudges and welcome Loki with open arms- but it keeps happening, again and again.

Steve thinks he’s doing a decent job of hiding his thinning patience, but unsurprisingly, it doesn’t escape Loki’s notice.

“You can at least afford to pretend you’re enjoying my company,” Loki jokes when they’re back in their own seats, dessert in front of them.

Steve blinks.

“Oh no, sorry, it’s just-” He makes a vague gesture in the direction of everyone else. “They keep ignoring you. Or acting like you’re just going to attack them when their backs are turned. Which is really rude and unfair to you.” He pauses. “It sounds kind of stupid when I say it out loud, doesn’t it.”

Loki’s bright green eyes glimmer with an unreadable emotion.

“I suppose it does,” he murmurs, almost distractedly, while stabbing his fork into a slice of lemon tart.

Steve manages to keep his cool, even when a particularly pushy reporter corners him for an interview once dessert is finished. She ignores Loki (yet again), but this time he chooses to exit with the excuse of refilling their glasses. Steve is left to indulge her questions, which seem reasonable enough at first.

“So,” she says, after the polite warm-up questions. “You are dating Loki?”

Steve’s polite smile tightens.

“Yes.” Despite the number of times he’s said it already tonight, the lie still feels foreign on his tongue.

“I- How-” She lets out a nervous peal of laughter. “How did that even happen? I mean, I don’t have anything against gay people or anything, but… surely it doesn’t make sense for Captain America of all people to be gay?”

Steve feels a small frown slip into his expression.

“…What do you mean?”

“It’s just that you like women- everyone who knows their history knows how important Margaret Carter was to you. And you came from a time where that kind of thing was frowned upon, and you wouldn’t be able to join the army if you were gay. And yet you’re probably the best soldier in all of American history.”

“I…” Why do they always like bringing up Peggy whenever they want to stick their nose into his love-life? “You flatter me. And just because it was frowned upon doesn’t mean that gay people didn’t exist.”

“But you’re not actually one of them, are you? Because so many children look up to you and it would be such a shame if their hero turned out to be someone with a lifestyle that isn’t so family-friendly.”

What.

The night has been wearing at him, and there are about ten different ways Steve wants to respond to her nonsense, but he was raised better than that.

He is left with no choice but to silently seethe, but Loki chooses that moment to return with two full glasses.

Loki raises an eyebrow at the visibly tense atmosphere as he hands one of them to Steve.

“Is everything alright?”

Steve purses his lips as he takes the glass. He gives a quick glance to the reporter, who is wearing a pinched expression at Loki’s interruption. Or maybe his presence. Whatever.

Steve turns his gaze back to Loki. An idea forms in his mind.

“Yes. Of course. Thank you.” He mentally apologises as he looks into those green eyes, which gaze back at him curiously.

Then he hooks an arm around Loki’s neck and tugs him down for a kiss.

He remembers to tilt his head at the last moment, but that doesn’t stop their lips from colliding messily. Their teeth clash and Steve accidentally bites onto Loki’s lower lip, inciting a small, surprised noise.

The kiss is too rushed, too unprepared, and it only lasts just long enough for everyone to register what’s happening.

Then Steve pulls away, heart pounding in his ears as he takes in Loki’s stunned expression.

He turns back to the gaping reporter.

“Sorry to cut this short, but I have to go now. Duty calls.”

He grabs Loki by the wrist and they make a hasty exit. Surprisingly no one follows them, but it does nothing to lessen the thundering of Steve’s heart. He can’t even bring himself to look Loki in the eye again until they reach a secluded area just outside the venue.

“I’m so sorry,” is the first thing Steve says. He winces and runs a hand through his hair nervously. “I shouldn’t have done that without asking you.”

But Loki only laughs.

“Oh no, don’t worry about it. How could I object to being kissed by a man as fine as you?”

Steve feels his cheeks heat up, but he refuses to let the teasing distract him.

“I’m serious. I should’ve at least asked you. It’s been a long night and I got angry at what she said, but that doesn’t excuse what I did. I’m sorry.”

Loki tilts his head consideringly.

“As I’ve said, don’t worry about it. It’s something that I’m far from opposed to,” he smirks. “And besides, the reactions you garnered were possibly the best form of entertainment I’ve had in the past week. It was amusing to see how closely humans are capable of resembling fish.”

Now that his anger-turned-mortification has worn off, Steve supposes that the gaping fish look the reporter had was actually pretty funny. He’s even starting to look forward to reading whatever article she’ll write after this.

The moment is broken when Sam finds them.

“There you are! I didn’t see what you did but suddenly there were rumours everywhere and then you guys had run off.”

Steve and Loki exchange amused looks.

“What kind of rumours?” Loki asks innocently. Sam takes one look at him and just shakes his head, refusing to even dignify that with an answer.

“Come back inside,” Sam says instead. “The speeches have started already but you should be able to sneak back in. After the last speech they’re opening up the dancefloor, and, well, I’m pretty sure I’m not exaggerating when I’m saying that everyone’s expecting the two of you to dance together.”

The words sink in, and Steve feels an oncoming wave of uncertainty.

Dancing brings up many memories for him, particularly those from before the ice- memories of his missed chance with Peggy, memories of the double dates with Bucky. The last time he had even danced, he kept stepping on his poor date’s feet. But with the serum now, his balance and coordination have most likely improved. It still doesn’t make the idea of dancing any more appealing though.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Loki says, sending a pondering glance in Steve’s direction. “Our previous kiss has ignited our carnal desires, and we are currently having a passionate tryst behind the bushes. We are too preoccupied to return inside.”

He says all of this with a completely straight face. Sam’s eyebrows have long disappeared into his hairline, and Steve can’t help it- he bursts into laughter, laughing so hard that he doubles over. By the time he manages to straighten himself, he sneaks a quick glance at Loki. Even after all that, the only crack in the other man’s serious facade is the twinkling laughter in his bright green eyes.

Steve can’t help but smile as well.

He feels better after laughing- much calmer than he was before, at least. He’ll listen to the remainder of the speeches, and when the time comes for dancing, then… well, he’s been told that dancing is much more different now, less coordinated and partner-focused than he’s used to. He can probably get by with sheer instinct and going with the flow.

“No, it’s okay,” Steve finally tells Sam. “I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asks, still looking sceptical.

“Yeah.” Steve falters, then looks at Loki. “Unless you don’t…?”

“No, I’m fine,” Loki replies. Then he raises an inquisitive eyebrow. “Were you nervous about dancing?”

Steve sighs. Was he really that obvious?

Loki lets out a huff of laughter, but it doesn’t sound mocking at all.

“Don’t worry, Steve. Just follow my lead and we’ll be fine.”

“And if I step on your toes?” Steve half-teases.

Loki gives him a mock-offended look.

“You won’t.”

Sam looks between them with a thoughtful frown, but he shakes his head.

“Alright then, let’s go back inside.”

[Video: Hand-held recording of Steve and Loki dancing together in a semi-crowded dance floor. They are both smiling and laughing]

Liked by tonystark and 329,200 others

brucebanner Honored to be attending the #MSFCharityBall2018

Show all comments…

perrygp

I don’t think people realize how important this video is. It’s just Captain America dancing and having fun with his boyfriend, but I can’t tell you how much this would’ve meant to me in my teen years, when everyone treated gayness as something weird to be laughed at. And the people who are objecting to said boyfriend being Loki are missing the point.

usernametakenmyass

We’re living in the weirdest timeline

peterparker2001

hOLY SHIT theyre actually dating??? It wasn’t jsut celebrity gossip?? WHAT

bluecarpa3

what…? why? i liked captain america better when he was straight :/

veloucity

Did captain america already forget that this guy killed hundreds of people in new york or

r0ss_r1

I remember writing an essay for history in high school arguing that Captain America isn’t straight, and my teacher said it was well-written but she failed it because it was “factually incorrect”. And now it turns out I was right all along. SUCK ON THAT, MRS CHAPWELL.

female_presentingnips

I can’t believe I’m saying this but they actually look kinda cute together? Wtf?

2deraa

I was holding out on hope that the rumors weren’t true but I guess I’m not a Captain America fan anymore

tarax0x

I hate the internet. Their dancing, which somehow means they must be gay. They used to be enemies but now their just friends! Homosexuality is lustful, sexual attractions, while friendship is something so much more pure.

“Wait wait wait I thought the clone boyfriend thing was just a nickname I didn’t know you were actually dating.”

Steve and Bucky freeze in the middle of their sparring session. Bucky makes a face at the interruption while Steve blinks at Peter, who looks back with wide eyes.

“Uh, no, we’re not, actually.”

“Oh. Okay.” Peter looks slightly relieved, though no less confused. “Good- I was right then. See, I honestly thought that you guys weren’t telling me something about that party like it was one of those ‘what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas’ type of things, which I missed because it was on the same day as Ned’s birthday-”

“No, Loki and I are not dating,” Steve interrupts before Peter can hyperventilate. “But we are pretending to.”

“Uh.” Peter looks like he has no idea how to react. “Sorry, what? ”

And so Steve and Bucky give the poor kid a crash course on The Scandal and what led up to it, as well as Steve’s genius plan (as quoted by Bucky with a generous helping of sarcasm). By the end of it, Peter hums thoughtfully.

“I mean yeah,” Peter finally says. “I think your plan’s working, anyhow. If you look at that video post of you dancing on Dr Banner’s instagram, the comments are a complete mess. And I’m pretty sure there’s already about a hundred articles written about it.”

Steve is still on social media blackout and Bucky only ever uses the internet for Skype, Spotify, animal videos, cooking tutorials and online shopping, so this is news to both of them.

“What post?”

And so that’s how Steve ends up spending the next ten minutes scrolling through a landmine of Instagram comments on Peter’s phone with Bucky reading over his shoulder.

“This is why I don’t do social media,” Bucky mutters, and Steve has to agree. Truth be told, a petty part of Steve is revelling in the homophobic anger of some of the comments. But there are also certain comments- especially the ones thanking him for being inspiring- which remind him of why he’s doing this fake relationship thing with Loki in the first place.

“Has Loki left already?” Peter suddenly asks.

“No,” Steve answers. “He and Bruce are still here, but they’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Ohhhh,” Peter says, nodding slowly. “Is it because you’re planning to go on a fake date soon or something?”

“Uh, no, they just wanted some room to breathe before going back to Norway.”

“But you totally should! You and Loki are trending right now, so if you go out say, tonight, then you’ll be getting a lot of attention. It’ll help your plan!”

Steve flips the idea over in his head, which isn’t too bad, actually.

He glances at the clock in the room. 2:35pm. A bit too late for lunch.

“I guess I can ask him out for dinner,” he muses out loud.

Me [2:35pm]

Do you have anything planned tonight?

If not, we can go out on a fake date for the public

Peter says we’re trending on social media right now, so maybe we should take advantage of it

Loki [2:37pm]

Not particularly

And of course, darling :)

Shall it be dinner at 7 then?

Me [2:37pm]

Sounds like a plan

With Bucky and Peter’s help, Steve attempts to pick out the most decent restaurant possible for such a last-minute booking on a Saturday. In the end, with Loki’s approval, they settle on a fairly classy seafood place with pretty good reviews.

That would’ve been the end of it, if it weren’t for the nagging feeling at the back of Steve’s mind that something is missing.

“Should I get flowers…?” he mutters out loud. At Bucky’s raised eyebrows, he quickly adds, “Because it’s the proper thing to do on dates- even fake ones, isn’t it?”

“Well I guess, yeah,” Bucky reluctantly agrees. “Figures you’d wanna go all-out on even your fake relationships, huh.”

Steve shrugs.

“Gotta do things properly, or they’re not worth doing at all.”

Peter perks up.

“Are you getting flowers, then? Because I know a place.”

Around a month ago, a rowdy group of primary school kids had run past a florist, knocking over several displays and then continuing their sprint out of fear when the poor owner had yelled out after them. Spider-Man, who had witnessed all of this, stopped to help clean up the mess, and from that moment on the florist adored the young superhero so much that she made a habit of giving him something for free every time he swung by.

After the three of them stepped through the cramped entrance, the florist had readily extended her friendliness to Steve when Spider-Man introduced him as the “friend who needs help”. She didn’t even seem to mind Bucky standing silently off to the side and staring intently at the rows of bright flowers. She wasn’t a particularly nosy, woman, but she did give Steve a knowing look when he admitted that the flowers are for a first date.

Steve stares at the mixed bouquet sitting on his coffee table while he lets Bucky adjust his tie for him. He’s wearing his second suit, which is practically identical to the one he wore yesterday except it’s charcoal grey rather than navy. He remembers how at first he had thought Tony was being excessive when the billionaire had insisted that it was important to own at least two suits. But now, five years later, Steve is grateful that he had begrudgingly listened.

He feels Bucky pat down the non-existent wrinkles on his shoulder pads, and he closes his eyes against the familiarity of the gesture, trying not to let it dredge up memories from a previous lifetime.

Bucky suddenly pauses.

“Have I done this before?”

Steve lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

“Yeah.” Seeing Bucky’s slight frown, he tentatively adds, “Are you remembering something?”

Bucky doesn’t answer for a few moments, but then he finally says, “I set you up on a date with Mildred’s friend. Patricia.”

“Yeah,” Steve repeats, slowly. “And within an hour she left me and they both became your dates.”

Bucky’s frown deepens. “She didn’t deserve you, Steve.”

Steve smiles. He feels something sad and warm twist in his chest.

“You said the exact same thing too, that night when we came home.”

“Oh.” Bucky goes over to the flowers on the coffee table, and gently picks them up. He stares at them in silence for a few moments, before he says, “I don’t know if Loki deserves you either.”

“Buck, you know we’re not actually-” Steve begins, but Bucky silences him with a disgruntled glare.

“Just don’t do anything more stupid than usual,” his best friend says, shoving the bouquet at Steve. “And no, that wasn’t a challenge.”

“Hey!”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too.

“Good luck, Steve.”

Steve is bolstered by the not-pep talk from his best friend, up until he finds out from FRIDAY that Loki is currently with Wanda and Vision in Wanda’s room. His steps become more uncertain after that, but they slow to a complete stop when he reaches Wanda’s door frame. He isn’t sure what he expected to find, but it isn’t this- Loki and Vision are sitting cross-legged on the floor with a chessboard between them, while Wanda’s nestled on her beanbag, practising guitar behind them. It’s an unexpectedly peaceful scene; they look like they’re simply enjoying each other’s company.

Steve supposes it makes sense. After all, out of all the Avengers, Wanda and Vision are the ones who have the least amount of reason to hold a personal grudge against Loki. For some reason he cannot explain, Steve finds himself happy at the thought of Loki befriending more of the Avengers in his own time.

“I wasn’t aware that there’s an invisible barrier preventing you from entering,” Loki muses without looking up. Wanda laughs, pausing in her playing.

“Well it’s certainly not my fault if there is,” she says. “You can come in, you know.”

Steve awkwardly adjusts his hold on the bouquet, keeping it out of sight. The movement catches Vision’s attention.

“What are you hiding?” he asks with a curious tilt of his head.

“Uh, nothing, no, I’m fine thanks. Just-” Steve internally cringes. Why is he so bad at this? “Loki. I’ll meet you outside whenever you’re ready.”

He looks at Loki, who is actually rather well-dressed for someone who’s been lounging around indoors all day. In fact now that he thinks about it, Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen the other man dressed in anything other than Asgardian armour and expensive-looking suits.

Loki looks back at him with slightly furrowed brows, then sighs down at the board.

“Wanda? Could you please win on my behalf?”

“Yeah, I guess,” she says as she puts her guitar down. “I’ll see you sometime.”

“Yeah,” Vision agrees. “We’re finishing this next time.”

Loki gives them both a lazy wave in response as he follows Steve out.

“You do realise we’re going to be ridiculously early if we leave-” Loki begins, but he suddenly cuts himself off.

Steve nervously follows the wide-eyed gaze to the flowers he’s holding. He clears his throat.

“Um, yeah. I know that we’re only pretending to date but I figured that I should still do it properly. And I don’t know about Asgardian culture, but on Earth, giving your date flowers is something we do. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ended up getting you a bit of everything. So, um, here.”

He holds out the mixed bouquet, which Loki accepts seemingly on auto-pilot. Loki is still speechless, and Steve watches anxiously as the other man stares at the flowers in his hands as if he isn’t quite sure whether they’re real or not. When Loki finally looks back up at him, Steve feels his breath catch at the intensity in his eyes- sea green, swirling with a mix of emotions.

But the spell is broken by the smile that graces Loki’s lips, which feels less genuine.

“Thank you, darling. You sure know the way to one’s heart.”

Steve isn’t sure what to make of Loki’s odd reaction, but he figures it can’t be too bad, if the way the other man carefully handles the bouquet back to his guest room is any indication.

Steve does his best to pretend that he doesn’t notice stares and whispers directed at their corner of the restaurant. Loki’s doing a much better job at ignoring them; he’s currently gazing intently out of the giant glass windows, though he looks more curious than impressed at the night view of the city outside.

“You liking the view?” Steve asks for the lack of anything better to say.

Loki lightly scoffs.

“Let’s just say it’s… different to the cities of other planets. But I’ve also noticed how practically every city on Earth is identical.” He absently swirls the water in his glass. “Funny, considering how much you insist that you’re different from each other.”

Steve wrinkles his nose.

“It’s actually a bit more complicated than that. How much of Earth’s history do you know?”

“Not as much as I’d like to, unfortunately. Before New Asgard, I’d only taught myself as much as I needed to know depending on whatever business I had at the time.”

Steve looks at Loki curiously.

“Oh? And what did your business with Earth usually involve?”

“Nothing in particular,” Loki says. “I merely used it as a place, amongst several other realms, for retreat on occasions where I felt the need to have some space to myself. And before you ask- no, I did not use the Bifrost. It’s fast, but hardly a discreet method of travel.”

Steve hums.

“I guess that explains how you’ve picked up on our technology here a lot quicker than Thor did.”

Loki rolls his eyes.

“Thor is a stubborn fool who likes sticking with his own way of doing things,” he scoffs, but there’s a hint of fondness to it. “In all honesty, I hadn’t actually come down here in over a hundred years, at least until several years ago. And I’m sure you don’t me to tell you that a lot has changed since then.”

Steve stares at Loki in surprise.

“Oh. Wow. Sometimes I feel like there’s still a lot of things I haven’t figured out yet about my phone, but you seem to know what you’re doing. It’s like you grew up with it.”

“Why, thank you,” Loki smiles. “Though to be fair, I do have an unfair advantage- for one, I’ve already familiarised myself with the technologies from a range of different realms. And for another, well…” He trails off, watching Steve carefully. “Let’s just say that I had the help of two humans well-versed in the area.”

Steve matches his gaze evenly. He’d seen this coming, and it’s honestly a surprise that they haven’t touched upon this topic already.

“Have you spoken to either Clint or Dr Selvig since you came back?”

“No,” Loki answers simply. “I haven’t seen any of Thor’s scientist friends, and considering that he’s broken up with Jane, I think it’s unlikely that I will. And as for Clint, well…” The smile that stretches across his face is entirely artificial. “We’ve been content to avoid each other.”

Steve sighs. He’d expected as much.

Their waiter chooses that moment to take their orders, something which reminds them that they’ve barely even glanced at the menu since they sat down.

Steve internally winces at the prices, but when he looks up at Loki, he sees the other man frowning as well.

“This can’t possibly be edible,” Loki says, gesturing at his copy of the menu. Steve looks at where he’s pointing, then feels a surge of amusement.

“Crab? It’s a staple of most seafood restaurants. You haven’t had it before?”

“I was expecting fish. This is a giant spider.”

“It’s not,” Steve laughs. “It’s good, I promise. Want to try it?”

Fifteen minutes later Steve is struggling to keep a straight face as he watches Loki attempting to get to the meat under the shell with nothing but his cutlery and the crab cracker.

“You know you can use your hands right?” Steve says mildly, hiding his smile behind his fist.

“I can do this,” Loki replies through gritted teeth. Unsurprisingly, he does manage it, after much manoeuvring. He eyes Steve smugly when the latter cleans his hands with the provided wet wipes, prompting Steve to roll his eyes in response.

They pretend not to notice the paparazzi trailing after them when they leave the restaurant. But halfway down the busy streets, Loki catches Steve’s eye with a mischievous smirk before slipping his hand into Steve’s.

Steve does his best not to tense up in surprise. It doesn’t help that Loki’s hand is cold, though it isn’t particularly surprising, considering how cool the night is. Steve gives Loki’s hand a gentle squeeze, hoping the transfer some of his own warmth. He feels some of the warmth travel to his chest as he watches Loki’s smirk soften in response.

A block away from where Steve had parked the car, they are suddenly interrupted by a sharp bang.

Loki hisses and clutches at his upper arm, and Steve immediately springs into action. For a split second he reaches for his shield, and he internally curses when he realises of course he doesn’t have it. He faintly registers light travelling up Loki’s body in his peripheral vision as he quickly dives and knocks several bystanders out of the way, just in time for more shots to be fired in their direction.

Steve braces for the impact of the bullets, but he watches with bated breath as they smack harmlessly against a force field which shimmers into view.

He looks up.

Loki’s black suit has been completely replaced by his Asgardian armour sans his horned headgear. His green cape billows behind him, and for a brief moment, Steve is struck by how heroic he looks.

But Steve can thank Loki for saving his life later- right now, he has a shooter to take down.

The crowd is beginning to truly panic, and Steve does his best to direct as many people to the direction of Loki’s giant force field as possible while he scans the direction the bullets had come from. It doesn’t take long for him to spot the pale, gangly young man clutching at a rifle. The shooter appears to be hesitating at Loki’s appearance, and Steve takes the opportunity to slip into the terrified crowd, unnoticed. Steve keeps an eye on the shooter the whole time, so he immediately notices when the the young man makes the frenzied split-second decision to fire several more shots in Loki’s direction.

Steve feels his heart drop and his ears are drowned out by the screams of the people around him. He doesn’t manage to see if any of the bullets had hit anyone or not, but he grits his teeth and continues making his way towards the shooter.

He has to trust Loki to take care of it.

Steve catches the shooter completely off-guard when he comes in out of seemingly-nowhere and knocks the rifle out of the young man’s hands, kicking him back and grabbing the weapon from him in one fell swoop. Once the guy realises that he’s been stopped by Captain America himself, he goes down without a fight. But just as a precaution, Loki strides over and freezes the man’s hands together in makeshift handcuffs with some ice spell.

Steve watches in fascination as the cold blue light spreads from Loki’s fingers, forming the ice seemingly from thin air. He isn’t sure if it’s a trick of light, but for a split second he swears that the skin of Loki’s hands turned blue.

Now that they’re waiting for the police to arrive, Steve turns to Loki.

“Let me see your arm.”

Loki crosses them both over his chest defensively.

“It barely grazed me. I’ll be fine. My armour and magic deflected the rest of it.” He pauses, then narrows his eyes at Steve. “What about you? You charged at him while you were unarmed. What were you thinking?”

Steve is taken aback at the sheer anger and worry in the other man’s tone. It even reminds him a little bit of Bucky, and he can’t help but laugh.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I know how to fight without my shield.”

Loki huffs in annoyance but doesn’t pursue any further, because the police arrive. The shooter gets arrested and Steve does most of the talking to the officers. It doesn’t escape his notice that while they seem in awe at his presence, they keep eyeing Loki warily. It reminds Steve a little too much of the charity ball, which already feels like a distant memory, with everything that’s happened.

By the time Steve and Loki are free to go, the area has been taped off and a huge crowd has gathered on the outskirts of the crime scene.

Steve sighs. Now that the adrenaline has faded, he just wants to go back to the compound. This wasn’t how he had wanted his fake date night to end, but he doesn’t feel up for doing anything else.

He suddenly feels a light tug on his wrist.

Steve looks questioningly up at Loki, but the other man has his eyes on the crowd. Steve follows his gaze.

There’s excitement and curiosity buzzing around the gathered people, and there’s even a noticeable number of them holding out their phones in Steve and Loki’s direction.

Steve feels Loki lean in conspiratorially.

“They’re all watching us now. Shall we do something with their attention?”

Loki’s whisper makes the skin on Steve’s neck tingle. He barely manages to suppress the involuntary shudder.

He swallows.

“Yeah,” Steve whispers back.

The corners of Loki’s lips quirk upwards as he gives one final glance in the direction of the crowd.

“How about a kiss then? One for the cameras?”

Steve licks his lips nervously, but he nods determinedly.

This time their lips meet slower. Carefully, but not hesitantly. Loki’s hand gently cups Steve’s jaw, while his other arm is looped around Steve’s waist, pressing their bodies close together. Steve leans into the touch and his arms around Loki’s neck tighten, deepening the kiss. Steve faintly registers a surge of noise in the background. But then he feels Loki sigh softly against his lips, and the little remains of concentration left vanish completely.

Then Loki pulls back, and Steve feels an unexpected wave of disappointment, though they are still close enough that their noses almost touch. He’s left feeling dazed and breathless, and his insides don’t feel entirely solid, like they might collapse under the heavy pounding of his heart.

It makes Steve feel a little better to see Loki looking equally stunned. They’re still pressed together, and Steve can feel Loki’s chest lightly heaving through the shared contact. He looks into Loki’s eyes- dark green, nearly the shade of a forest. Molten with heat, and so many other emotions that Steve currently lacks the brainpower to decipher.

Steve catches himself staring, and quickly turns away. He does his best to ignore the sudden pang at the loss of contact, and takes in their surroundings. His eyes settle on the crowd a few meters away, and reality abruptly crashes around him.

Right. That was why they were kissing in the first place.

He clears his throat.

“I think we should try heading back now.”

Captain America and Loki prevent a mass shooting in upstate New York

The Washington Post

Captain America kisses boyfriend after foiling an attempted shooting

Vox

Captain America proves that he no longer deserves his title

Daily Wire

There are zero casualties in last night’s shooting- and it’s all thanks to Loki

BuzzFeed News

Here’s what #Stoki means for the LGBT community

The Independent

Rumors that last night’s shooter was Spider-Man’s civilian identity

Daily Bugle

The Avengers’ reactions can be summed up as “Really, Steve? Really?” Which is frankly unfair, because the kiss wasn’t even Steve’s idea. Though he can’t exactly complain about resulting public responses it had garnered (in fact, come the next morning they find an unsigned note amongst the pile of mail, consisting of nothing but a succinct “Are you fucking kidding me” in what looks suspiciously like Fury’s handwriting). That’s what Steve has chosen to focus on, instead of the way his insides begin to feel strange whenever he even thinks about the kiss. He’s blaming that on the fact that he has kissed too few people in his life.

But despite everything, Steve still feels a genuine pang of… something when Loki and Bruce return to Norway. Something which, of course, his friends take notice of.

“So I’m guessing he is a better kisser than you,” Natasha says, because she likes making him suffer.

“Are you sure you’re not actually dating?” Tony teases, which Steve resolutely ignores.

The others are nice enough not to actually say anything about it, though at one point Bucky does tell him he’s acting like a lovesick teenager (which he isn’t, okay).

Sam sends him an article with the headline “Florida Man Accidentally Burns Home Down After Lighting Captain America Merch On Fire In Protest Of Hero’s Relationship With Loki”. Steve forwards the article to Loki, then prints it out and sticks it on his wall next to his sketches.

Steve and Loki continue to regularly text each other. Loki still likes to start conversations by sending unflattering photos of Steve, and Steve is beginning to wonder if there’s a website dedicated to photos of him looking as ugly as humanly possible, be it mid-blink, mid-sneeze, or appearing double-chinned from an awkward angle. But of course, there’s always the possibility that Loki himself was the one who found the stills by pausing footage at the right moment. At this point, Steve isn’t sure which one would be better. But he still makes sure to send back funny and/or interesting videos and images that he finds online.

Neither of them have really talked about the kiss, outside of the context of how the general populace has reacted. Which is to be expected, because that’s the whole point of why they’re doing this. Yet Steve can’t help but feel that it’s something like a spectre, hovering unspoken between them.

Their plan finally bears fruit when, as time passes, the public begins to treat their “relationship” as they would any other celebrity couple. In fact, in his most recent interview, Steve even gets asked about what it’s like to date a former enemy, and also what it’s like to be in a long distance relationship.

Life is good, though Steve sometimes catches himself longing to see Loki again.

Which he does- almost three months later, after he nearly dies.

The first thing that Steve registers is how sore and stiff he feels. The second thing he notices is that he’s sleeping on something soft.

Really soft.

“Don’t worry, only three days have passed.”

Steve blinks blearily, then stiffens when his brain finally registers who the voice belongs to.

He tries to sit up, but two strong arms push him down again.

“Please don’t,” Loki says, an expression which almost resembles genuine concern flits across his features. “You’ll undo all of Eir’s hard work.”

Deliriously, Steve thinks that Loki looks like an angel, and he nearly drops the glass of water that the other man hands him.

As Steve sips on the glass, he tries to remember what happened.

He’s supposed to be in Sweden. With Bucky and Clint. They were on a mission investigating the rumours of Chitauri tech being circulated underground in Stockholm. It was a bit of an overkill for the three of them to go, but it was more of a matter of safety just in case things go terribly wrong.

Which it did.

After having their operations discovered, the dealers started a shootout at the base.  In the midst of the chaos Steve got hit point blank in the stomach by one of their weapons. The last thing he remembers, before completely blacking out from the pain, was an explosion which felt like it had burned him alive.

“Where’s Bucky and Clint?” Steve finally asks.

“Bruce finally managed to convince them to get some proper sleep a few hours ago.” Loki pauses, levelling Steve with a serious stare. “You’re quite fortunate that you were so close to New Asgard. If you were treated in one of your ordinary hospitals, your chances for survival would’ve been rather… slim.”

A brief flash of pain flickers through Loki’s eyes- teal, under this lighting- as the last word quietly drops from his lips.

Steve swallows down the rising guilt.

“Oh.”

He averts his gaze, and he uses it as an opportunity to glance around the room he’s in. He’s currently lying on one side of a king sized bed, under cream-coloured silk sheets. Aside from his now-empty glass, there’s a small stack of books and a lamp on the bedside table. Pale daylight is peeking through dark curtains, which seem to be hiding a large window. In the wall opposite the bed is an unlit fireplace, and there’s a wall length cupboard next to the door. It’s sparsely decorated, but it still feels strangely cosy for a recovery room.

“Where exactly am I?”

“You are currently resting in my bed. You’re welcome, by the way- if my sources are correct then it is possibly the best surface you’ve slept on in the past weeks.”

Steve stiffens.

“Wait- this is your bed? Then what about-”

“You were only moved here this morning,” Loki interrupts him. “Eir predicted that you would wake up some time today, and our medical facilities are still rather small and understaffed. So being the generous and considerate lover that I am…” Loki’s lips twist into an amused smile, and he spreads his hands out. “I offered my own living quarters as a place for your recovery.”

Steve attempts to protest that he doesn’t want to impose, but Loki shuts that down quickly with “You almost died, you idiot.” After that Steve begrudgingly acquiesces, especially when he has to suppress at wince at how sore his abdomen feels as he sits up.

Steve is able to walk around without too much difficulty, so Loki leaves him to eat in the kitchen while he leaves the house to go somewhere else. After taking one bite of an apple, Steve suddenly realises how hungry he is, and he devours the rest in less than a minute.

Loki isn’t gone for long, as he returns with Bucky and Clint in tow while Steve is almost finished with his second apple.

Clint visibly perks up when he sees Steve alive and whole, though he still remains alert of his surroundings. Bucky’s expression is about as rigid as his shoulders, but after staring at Steve for a few tense seconds, it all drains out of him and he mournfully mutters that he’d thought he had lost Steve.

Steve feels his heart clench seeing Bucky so distraught. After all, he knows exactly what it feels like to think that you’ve lost your best friend forever when you were supposed to be on a mission together.

Eventually they get around to discussing the disastrous mission in Stockholm. It was technically a success as they did break up the alien weapons trading ring, destroying every trace of it to boot. Bucky and Clint didn’t get out of the warehouse shootout unscathed either, but they were nowhere near as horrible as Steve was.

Throughout it all, Steve notices that Loki is lingering silently, as far away from them as the small space of the kitchen would allow. He finds it slightly odd that Bucky and especially Clint don’t seem to mind Loki listening in on classified information of their mission, but Steve supposes that somewhere along the process of him getting sent to New Asgard for emergency medical treatment, Loki must’ve gotten ahold of the details anyway.

“Oh and by the way, Steve,” Clint says. “Bucky and I are heading back to the compound first thing tomorrow.”

Steve frowns, but Bucky interrupts him before he can say anything.

“Yeah, we’re leaving you. Think of it as a vacation or something. God knows you need a break from trying to get yourself killed.”

Steve glances at Loki, who doesn’t seem surprised by the news at all. He thinks back to his earlier conversation with Loki, and it suddenly clicks. So he’s staying over at Loki’s for the next couple of days; they must’ve discussed it before he had woken up, then.

“And you’re okay with Loki watching over me?” Steve asks Clint sceptically.

“Hell no,” Clint says immediately. “But I’m trusting Thor and Bruce to step in before he does anything. And if that doesn’t work…” Clint glares at Loki. “I’m turning you into my personal pincushion.”

“Well that doesn’t sound very pleasant,” Loki says drily, prompting Clint to childishly flip him off.

Bucky appears only slightly less adverse to the arrangement, but he still gives Steve a careful hug before he and Clint leave.

Steve is surprised, to say the least, when it turns out that Loki lives in a modest-looking cottage which looks no different to the others in the neighbourhood; Loki must’ve used magic to make everything much bigger on the inside. Aside from the living room, kitchen, bathroom and laundry room, the cottage has two bedrooms, though one of them has been completely repurposed into a personal library/study space. When they get back to Loki’s room, Loki admits that when he first heard about the label of “king” beds, he had thought it meant that the bed would be befitting for a king.

“It’s acceptable, I suppose,” Loki shrugs, which Steve responds to with a playful roll of his eyes. Typical.

It also happens to be the only bed in the entire cottage. Loki absolutely refuses to let Steve sleep on the couch, but he also thinks it’s beneath him to sleep there when the bed is perfectly capable of fitting both of them.

“I suppose I’ll look forward to waking up to your beautiful face, then,” Loki says with a playful wink. Steve ignores the teasing like he usually does, except this time it’s accompanied by a light fluttering in his chest.

(He ignores that too)

Truth be told, Steve doesn’t mind- after all, he’s not one to get touchy over bed-sharing. Back when he was living with Bucky in their apartment in Brooklyn, there were times when they couldn’t afford consistent heating in winter. Thus, in order to prevent Steve from getting sick from the cold, they often shared a bed to share warmth. Steve’s also lost count of the number of times he had shared beds with Sam and Natasha (or even both at the same time, if the bed was big enough) while they were on the run. In the end, bed-sharing is just a pragmatic thing that he does with people he trusts.

It kind of begs the question of whether Loki is someone he trusts. A year ago the answer would’ve been a definite “no”. But that was before he’d actually gotten to know his former enemy as a person. A petty, snarky yet insightful person, with a ridiculous sense of humour. Now, after over half a year of being friends with Loki, and especially after that incident following their fake date, Steve thinks the answer might be “yes”. He knows most of his friends would disagree, but he does trust Loki.

Steve sits half-tucked into his side of the bed, trying his best to answer his mountain of unread messages. He assures all of his worried friends that he’s fine but he’s going to stay in New Asgard for a few more days, though he’s almost certain that they would’ve gotten that information already from Bucky and Clint.

Steve doesn’t get any immediate replies, so he idly scrolls through the news to see what the public is told about the incident in Stockholm. Somehow that leads him to discover that news of his presence in New Asgard has somehow gotten out, which led to his “relationship” with Loki being brought into the limelight again.

Steve is watching a clip of some Fox News anchors debating with a “historian” on how “Loki the god of evil has brainwashed Captain America and we need to rescue the poor Captain from his clutches” when Loki strides into the room in his nightclothes while toweling his damp hair. Loki raises an eyebrow at Steve as he listens in on the newsclip, but Steve doesn’t say anything until several moments after the video ends.

“Oh my god,” Steve finally manages, after his brain finally processes the sheer amount of bullshit that he had just been forced to listen to.

“You called?” Loki grins, tossing his towel aside. Steve groans.

“I know a lot of people still hate you for New York, but-” he gestures at his phone, at a loss for words. “What the fuck. ”

Loki bursts into laughter.

“No need to be so angry on my behalf, Steve,” he says, climbing onto the bed. “I actually quite like their version of the truth.”

Then Steve blinks as he watches Loki abruptly rearrange himself into a mocking parody of a seductive pose.

“Yes, I have indeed seduced the good Captain to the dark side,” Loki smirks, lowering his lashes. “And I definitely have plans to do so for every other hero that Earth has to offer.”

Steve swallows. To distract himself from his elevated heartbeat, he throws a pillow in Loki’s direction.

The ensuing pillow fight lasts for over an hour.

It doesn’t surprise Steve when, in the middle of his lunch meetup with Thor, the topic of Loki comes up.

“How have things with Loki been?”

“Pretty good, actually,” Steve answers honestly. Loki has actually been a rather gracious host, though he does get a bit ridiculous whenever he gets under the impression that Steve is overexerting himself.

“Good, that’s good,” Thor says, but there’s a slight furrow between his brows.

Steve frowns.

“Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no,” Thor quickly denies. “It’s just that- it’s not that I don’t trust you or anything- because I do, you’re a great man, one of the most honourable I’ve had the luck to meet and fight with in my lifetime-”

“Thor…” Steve tries to interrupt, but his friend goes on.

“-but I think I should tell you that if you hurt my brother, then he’s not one for forgiveness.”

Steve stares at him.

“What.”

“He’s more likely to retaliate,” Thor clarifies, as if that was the part Steve should’ve been confused about. “See, when we were on Sakaar, Loki had this weird thing going on with the Grandmaster.”

Steve nearly chokes on his own spit.

“What.”

“Yeah,” Thor agrees, as if he is imparting some particularly juicy bit of gossip and not telling Steve something he never ever wanted to know. “The Grandmaster was a strange, but horrible man, but Loki only went anywhere near him because of his power. In the end, Loki betrayed him, stole his best ships and there was also a revolution involved. I’m not sure what exactly happened, but I’m pretty sure the Grandmaster is no longer the ruler of Sakaar.”

What the fuck.

“Um, okay?” Steve finally says, weakly. “Why are you telling me this?”

But the only answer he receives is a pat on the arm.

“You’re a good man, Captain. I’d hate to see Loki ruin your life.”

What the fuck.

Cold creeps into the air inside his lungs, seeps into his skin, turning his bones into ice. The air around him thickens, until he drowns in it, chokes in it-

Steve’s eyes snap open and he gasps for air.

It takes several heartbeats for him to realise that he’s in Loki’s room, and not the flooded cockpit of the Valkyrie. It is still completely dark, and a quick glance at the time tells him it’s a quarter to four.

An involuntary shiver suddenly wracks through his body, and that’s when Steve realises that the cold didn’t vanish with his dreams.

In fact, it seems to be coming from beneath the covers.

Loki makes a pained noise and shifts in his sleep, and that’s all Steve needs before he throws off the blankets and turns on the bedside lamp.

The movement jars Loki awake, but Steve’s jaw drops when he sees him in the light.

Loki’s skin is completely blue. Steve has no idea what this means, but now that he’s concentrating, he can feel that the source of the cold is actually Loki himself.

Loki looks frantic and disoriented, as if he had just woken up from a nightmare. But the moment his eyes- red, blood red- land on the blue of his hands, a fresh wave of panic sweeps through him.

“Loki-” Steve begins as calmly as he can, but Loki flinches and throws himself off the bed.

“Loki-!”

“Don’t touch me!” Loki suddenly yells, as he spins on the floor to face Steve like a cornered animal.

Steve takes in a steadying breath. He doesn’t move, even though the muscles in his arms and legs are practically twitching from the effort.

“Don’t… touch me…” Loki repeats, weakly. He’s kneeling on the floor now, hunched over his shaking hands.

It kills Steve to do so, but he manages to remain seated on the bed. He watches, more fascinated than what is probably appropriate given the situation, as the blue slowly begins to recede from Loki’s skin. Loki still doesn’t move even when his usual, pale colour is fully restored, but Steve begins to make his way to the other man, until he is crouching right next to him.

“Are you okay now?” he asks softly.

“I… I’m sorry.” Loki still doesn’t look up. “Go back to bed, you need your rest. I’ll leave.”

“No Loki, look-” Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “You don’t have to tell me what your nightmare was about. You don’t even have to tell me why you suddenly turned blue. It’s just… I had a nightmare too. And I’m going to the kitchen to get some water. Will you come with me?”

Loki hesitates for a moment, but then he nods.

They sit together in complete silence in the kitchen for what feels an eternity, before Steve finally speaks up.

“I don’t think I’ve had that nightmare in years.” In his peripheral vision he notices that he catches Loki’s attention. “The plane. Crashing it into the ice.” Steve smiles wryly. “Most people assume that I got knocked out by the impact. But I was awake for the whole thing. When the cockpit flooded… my arms and legs were broken from the crash, but I could already feel them knitting together even as I was running out of oxygen.

“I don’t know what got to me first- the cold, or the lack of air.”

It feels weird, but also strangely relieving to tell this to Loki. The only other person he’d ever mentioned this to was the therapist that SHIELD provided him after he’d first woken up. The therapist had nodded in understanding even though Steve could see her thinly-veiled horror, but Loki is merely looking at him with alert and assessing eyes. A far cry from the wild look he’d sported earlier.

“I’m sorry,” Loki finally says. “I must’ve been the cause of that. My Jotunn form… the cold…”

“Jotunn?” Steve asks, latching onto the unfamiliar term.

Loki doesn’t say anything for a moment, but then he sighs.

“Well as you know, I’m adopted,” he begins with a humourless smile. “Jotunn. Not Asgardian. What you saw just then is my true form, if you will. A monstrous, hideous creature of the cold- even the touch of our skin gives our enemies ice burn.”

Steve frowns.

“But you’re not monstrous or hideous,” he says.

Loki stares at him, then laughs, a tad hysterically.

“You would say that about someone who made you relive your own nightmares? Someone who attempted to enslave your race? Or did our little game of pretend make you forget that already?”

“It was an accident,” Steve says. “If it makes you feel better, I broke a bedside table once because of a nightmare. And as for New York…” Steve sighs, and looks Loki in the eye. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive that. But in case I haven’t made it obvious enough, I’m trying to move on from it. And I know that you’re definitely trying to move on from it too. I think that’s what matters for now.

“And besides,” Steve tries to smile. “I don’t think it’s possible for you to look hideous.”

Loki narrows his eyes.

“Steve,” he says warningly, but Steve only laughs.

“Oh, so you’re the only one allowed to compliment me on my appearance?” Loki’s pinched expression prompts the edges of Steve’s lips to quirk upwards in amusement, and he adds, “I honestly don’t think you looked bad- just different. But just as beautiful as you usually do.”

Steve nearly slaps himself when the last part accidentally slips out. He fervently prays for himself to spontaneously develop the ability to vanish from existence when Loki stares at him with wide eyes. But just before Steve can backtrack, give an excuse, anything, Loki clears his throat.

“And what exactly do you mean by that?” Loki’s expression is carefully blank, and Steve feels his heart pounding so fast he’s surprised he hasn’t passed out yet.

This is so stupid. He hasn’t even had the time to really think about the… feelings he’s been having for the other man.

And yet-

“I want to stop pretending,” Steve suddenly blurts out, and god damn it, what is wrong with him?

Loki goes completely expressionless.

“What.”

Steve licks his lips nervously, but he refuses to avert his gaze.

“I want to stop pretending because I want it to be real,” he ploughs on, because that’s his only option now. “I… I don’t think I’ve been pretending, to be honest. At least not for a while.”

Shock and surprise flood Loki’s face and he stares at Steve as if he’s seeing him for the first time.

“Steve…” he begins, but he trails off, still struck speechless.

“I’m sorry if that’s not what you want,” Steve quickly says. “We can forget this conversation ever happened.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Loki scoffs before surging forward and capturing his lips in a kiss.

Steve tries to put all of his feelings- the unstoppable urge to smile or laugh when he sees Loki do the same, the way his heartbeat accelerates in his presence, and the pure ecstasy that this is happening, this is real- into the kiss. It seems to work, because he feels Loki smile against his lips in response.

They break off briefly, but Steve runs his hand down Loki’s hair and grabs a fistful of it, using the grip to tug him down again. Loki follows without complaint, even moaning into Steve’s mouth in response.

They continue kissing, again and again, until the darkness outside bleeds away into dawn.

“You know,” Steve says, as the commercial break begins. “I think Thor tried to give me the shovel talk.”

Loki shifts on the couch next to him to stare at him incredulously.

“Shovel talk?”

“The ‘If you hurt him, I’ll hurt you’ talk.” Steve pauses. “Except I think he was trying to tell me that if I hurt you, then you’d ruin my life.”

“You Midgardians and your strange ways with words,” Loki mutters, almost fondly. “Thor is unbelievable, so of course he did that. What else did he say?”

“Uh.” Steve suddenly regrets bringing this up at all. “He mentioned the Grandmaster?”

The colour abruptly drains from Loki’s face. He grabs the nearest cushion and promptly buries his face into it.

“For fuck’s sake, Thor. ”

[thirteenthspirit]

I would, my friend, Fernando (Part I)

Where to start… You know how they say you instantly know it when you meet ‘the one’ – you know, that person you think you’re meant to spend the rest of your days with, grow old together, the whole shebang. Well, I think it happened to me. Emphasis on the ‘think’ bit.

I met him as a random grindr hookup – sure, not the prettiest beginning to a story, but I’m sure I’ll weave a prettier lie at our wedding. It was nice and all, but we barely bothered to learn each other’s names.

A few months later, I was about to do a Raid in Pokémon GO with the usual team when he showed up, joining the party. I didn’t instantly recognize him, but as we kept raiding the following days and he kept appearing, I realized it was him. The random hipster hookup from a couple of months ago.

When I say hipster, what I really mean is… I have no idea. Somewhere between fashionable and trashy, cool and geeky, ‘lumberjack chic’ – but, as he himself would put it, sometime later, “skinny legend fashion icon”. Just rolls off the tongue, am I right. So you have a clearer picture, he is very tall, appears to be in his early 30s and is overtly fond of beanies and skinny jeans – oh, and of course, the moustache. Not the gross overgrown kind nor the plain ‘single line’ one, but a perfect blend of both, just looks good and different on him. The kind of person that draws everyone’s gaze in, when they enter the room.

He eventually joined our local whatsapp group for Pokémon GO raids and we began to see each other more often. It was a fun game of “we have met before but we don’t really acknowledge it”, between me and him. He sent me a friend request on Instagram, and we began to chat one-on-one from there.

The conversation began developing after I learned that he needed a Spinda, of which I had 2, so I offered him one. He lived literally across the street from me, so we could trade from our respective couches. I think that same day, since we lived so close together, we arranged to go for a walk after dinner, to catch Pokémon. The never-ending “shiny hunt”.

And again the following day.

And the next. And the next one after that too.

The conversation deepened. Since we met in that fashion, there were no boundaries regarding our hookups and sexuality. It didn’t take long for us to become very good friends and talk on a constant basis. Plus we had a lot of interests in common – we were both somewhat emotionally-distant people and with a peculiar sense of humor.

For us to connect so easily, it was definitely a weird thing - my area of expertise is Finance (I currently work at a bank) and my professional experience has always been at several desk jobs. Some better, some worse, but ‘inconsistently consistent’ (the reverse of Grace Helbig). A corporate man, I guess, leaning more towards the realistic side of life, rather than pandering to the dreamer and ambitious one. He is on the opposite end of the spectrum. He is an elementary school teacher and an editor for a magazine and has even written (and successfully published) his own book. A writer in every sense of the word.

Personality-wise, I am what you would call an introvert by nature – not exactly shy, but definitely the proud owner of a handful of unresolved childhood issues caused by enthusiastic bullies and shame. I wear glasses, which help in conveying the whole ‘geek’ category and am of an average build and somewhat tall. I’ve still got my share of face imperfections and pimples at the age of 25 and look younger than my actual age – something we both have in common. Our personalities just clicked though, his extremely offensive sense of humor contrasts well to my fake well-behaved and nice demeanor and we’ve bot got similar personal values and empathy when dealing with others. A couple of nice chaps, is what the ordinary passerby would think.

We became best friends. He confided in me about his past relationships, the good the bad and the (very) ugly and I vented to him about my insecurities and depressive thoughts. We saw each other roughly every day, during our usual “old ladies” walk through a nearby park, always worshipping that battery-draining app. On the weekends, we unknowingly formed the habit of getting breakfast together and basking in the sun for a bit. I was going through a tough time at the time, what with my mother not being in her best shape or form, mentally speaking, leading me to come out to my parents amidst an argument (NOT the best way to do it) – this situation worsened after we had a little house-fire scare. So his presence really helped and comforted me.

Time passed. Mall trips, community days, ex raids, regular dinners and breakfasts and breakfast-lunches. He was pretty much the person I saw the most. And quickly became my favorite.

I was always keenly aware of how close we were getting, and how it might be affecting me and my ability to connect with other friends, but I never gave much thought to the situation escalating. He was 38 years old, and I was 25. The thought alone made me never overthink the relationship.

Until I did. Until the “what if” statement popped into my mind. And the age gap just… lost its entire relevance. I tried to push the feelings down, but as all feelings do, it just made them get bigger and more intense. You see, my past relationships have been failed ones, because I wasn’t emotionally involved in them – I was like meh. So I didn’t really know what it was like to actually like someone. But I was smart enough to recognize it – this was probably my first real interaction with “infatuation” and dare I say it, love.

Here’s the part of the story where the sky is bright and the road ahead is hopeful and sunny.

Spoilers: It’s not.

Why not? Well. Because it’s completely one-sided. Unrequited love. Nothing less, nothing more, the usual boring sappy story of friend in love with his best-friend but unable to do anything about it.

“Well, why not do anything about it? Tell him!” The Jiminy Cricket in my head says.

I definitely let him know, I drop hints here and there, statements like “we’ll be together in 20 years” and getting notably jealous when he’s texting or telling me about his sexy-time and dates with other men (this part hurts particularly). So he knows. If he’s choosing not to see it, I know he has good reasons for it and I am good enough a friend to know not to act on it. It’s cruel on my part to try and force something that shouldn’t happen.

And why should it happen? I don’t really have much to offer him. I’m not his type, I still live with my parents (which I attribute to the ridiculously high rents here in Lisbon) and am overall kind of an emotional mess. Tbh, I wouldn’t pick myself either. But that’s an issue for another day, it’ll get resolved eventually. By myself, not by piling it onto somebody or using a relationship to distract from it.

Also he met ‘the one’ already. Or what he says he’s afraid might have been the one. His last boyfriend, who we name ‘psychopath’, definitely earned his nickname. Physically and emotionally abusive, he left a scar. And Fer is smart enough not to get into a relationship this soon after said breakup, as there is still too much fresh baggage, ready to be thrown at the next man in.

And there are (many) candidates for the ‘next man’ position. He’s a fascinating man and they are immediately enthralled by him (here’s the pot calling the kettle black), so he does leave a string of broken hearts behind him.

I don’t like hearing him talk about this. I can see there is a hint of pain in his eyes when he jokingly says he’ll never find anyone and is fated to remain single his entire life, to which I jokingly retort he’ll never be alone, as he’ll have me. And this is the part that really hurts me – I am content. I am content with being the best friend and I’ll eventually have to deal with him finding someone else, and watching him be happy in a (hopefully) long-lasting relationship. And I’ll be there. The pathetic best friend story from the B-list storyline of Hermione and Ron from Harry Potter. I’d rather have an Elio and Oliver thing, as fleeting as it might be, over a lifetime of longing for something that will never be. I want nothing but the best for him, he deserves it. But… we could be happy together. We could have a life. And that realization kills me.

Then again, years haven’t passed. Time does cure all wounds. Maybe time will heal these feelings, some days they are stronger, somedays they are weaker. Some days I am sure I can call them love, others it’s something darker.

I have realized something, though – I should let myself feel them. It’s ok not to act on them, if I think that’s the best course of action. But I should not repress them. I do love him (how could I not?) and that’s okay. I felt pathetic for feeling them, at first. Especially the jealousy bit I always judged my friends for, that one is a particularly nasty feeling.

But hey, for someone who thought himself to be emotionally shipwrecked, the ship floats! I think that should be my takeaway from this. That’s a positive outlook, right?

And more than anything, I should be grateful to my best friend for showing me something new I wouldn’t have known otherwise.

So if you ever end up reading this, Fer, know that it’s true. Also sorry it’s in English! And sorry if it’s all too much. But I do love you, and will always be a part of your life, in whatever role you deem fit. Now I’ll close this, as it’s time to go on our daily Pokémon run.                                                                                                                                                                                               -João A. (Xanuda)

Link to Part 2 “I Wish I Hadn’t”: http://thirteenthspirit.tumblr.com/post/183770872439/i-wish-i-hadnt-part-ii

[natasharomanovs]

For the Love of Photography | bucky barnes x tony stark

Prompt: Phantomas67′s Winteriron Bingo - Square 1 - Advertisement Pairing: Tony Stark x Bucky Barnes Warnings: Emotions, photography, exhibitions, some tears, fluff Words: 1920 A/N: This is my first bingo fill, so I hope I did okay!

AO3 | REQUEST

Getting out of the car, they were immediately blinded by flashing lights as they held hands and sifted through the crowd of cameras with ease. Looking towards Tony with a smirk once they had stepped inside, he looked towards his partner, "Usually I'm the one with the camera."

“Usually I’m the main attraction, not today - that one goes to you babe.”

With a smile on his face, the two entered the room where Tony was the first person to officially view Bucky’s exhibition.

He had the advertisement that showed the time and place for Bucky’s exhibition held tightly in his hand, though he was trying not to crinkle it. Even though he knew Bucky could get a new one without hassle. It was only a small, about half the size of an A4 paper, it was a light pink colour with one of Bucky’s pictures from the exhibition on the front. It was a standard portrait of a woman's face, but there was a way that Bucky had left in the imperfections and the expression in her eyes that really sold it. There were, of course, other things on it like a little doodle of white leaves in the corner, but they weren’t all that important anymore. Not when he was standing in the middle of Bucky’s hard work.

Tony let go of the metal hand, the advertisement still in his hand as he started to walk slowly through the exhibition, taking in the overall imagery and feel before taking a closer look at each individual section. Most of the photos were just photos of peoples faces, pure and raw and Tony then noticed a few sneaky pictures that Bucky had taken of Tony when he was unaware.

Continuing to walk along the walls without Bucky by his side, Tony was starting to get overwhelmed with emotion as he realised that the theme of his exhibition was love and misfortune, something that the two had shared a lot of together. Some stories were so mixed that it was hard to tell whether it was one or the other, but it was very easy to see that every single photograph was raw, none of it was fake. Something Tony knew Bucky took a lot of pride in.

Tony started reading through some of the interview answers and his heart melted.

What's one thing you wish you could tell your partner?

That even when I can't say that I love them, I love them. It's hard for me to express emotion with everything I've faced in life and I just want her to know that she's my world. I know it’s something that she struggles with, and I’m grateful every day that she stays by my side, but some days it’s harder to say than others.

Are you happy in your current relationship?

Sometimes I'm more happy than other times. Relationships, to me, prove their strength by sorting through everything messed up and coming out alive and together. I believe that no relationship is perfect and there will always be obstacles, no matter what they are. No one is ever perfectly content in anything, and if they are, they’re lying.

Tony took extra time to study each expression in the photos. He hadn't any idea that Bucky's exhibition would be as moving as it was, though he knew that Bucky had struggled with his own emotions a bit during the process of creating it. One time, after an interview that was particularly rough, Bucky had walked into their home with tears in his eyes and had just held Tony, telling him that he was loved.

Bucky had been dabbling in photography for almost his whole life, never really taking it seriously until a few years ago. His best friend Steve had always been the one interested in photography and exploring different viewpoints, trying to see things how others would. Eventually his love for photography led to painting, which he was still doing now. Some of his works placed strategically around Bucky’s exhibition with full credit as sneak peaks for Steve's future exhibition in the same place.

What had really gotten Bucky into photography, though, was coming back from the war, down one arm and trying to explain just how he viewed different things now, not able to explain his emotions so freely when he felt too many things to place in one specific category or feeling.

When even therapy hadn’t worked completely he had picked up a camera and managed to take a somewhat awkward picture of the sky and a mountain on a gloomy day, travelling for a bit which helped to clear his mind and give him some peace. He then waited until a sunny day when his friends went to the beach, snapping a photo of everyone having fun and laughing, smiling down at the moment he had captured.

When he had gone to therapy next, he hadn’t tried to talk about his feelings at any length. Knowing that would only make him frustrated and talk about his feelings of anger, rather than the others, he merely pulled out printed versions of the pictures he had taken and said, “Most days I feel like this one, grey, gloomy, uninterested with no hope. People want me to be like this, laughing, happy, vibrant, when I can’t be and it makes me feel like the skies are getting even greyer.”

It hadn’t been much of a big deal for him to say aloud. With the help of the pictures, he could easily connect the parts to himself without really having to think much about it. His therapist had merely smiled at him and told him that maybe he should look into turning photography into a hobby, suggesting that if he was feeling a certain mood, but not understanding it, he could go look for places where he might capture what explained, to him if no one else, just what he was feeling.

Listening to that advice had been hard at first, even with one arm, but he managed to take better photos and soon photos that explained his feelings turned into things he found memorable, and in no time it was simply passion that drove him to taking photos.

He had soon met Tony through getting his prosthetic arm and soon meetings about the arm and checking up on the arm to see how it was working and if it needed anything extra turned into dates and spending more and more time together, inevitably falling in love.

Their relationship was nothing without it’s hardships though, but with every fight, every time Bucky fell into his shell and refused to come out or when Tony was spending too much time working, they continued to grow stronger and love each other more and more fiercely.

They were also nothing without the help of their friends though and Tony smiled when he moved on to another part that was focused on platonic love. It featured their own friends talking about each other, along with lifelong friends and new friends that Bucky had found along the way. Tony couldn’t help the grin getting bigger as he continued to read along, finding himself relieved in the fact that instead of focusing on just romantic love, Bucky had focused on it all. He knew they were nothing without the love of their friends and Bucky knew that too.

There was also quite a large television in the middle of the room and looking closer Tony could see it was playing different sections of the interviews, Bucky mentioning it was parts that hadn't quite made the photographs but he thought still deserved a place in the exhibition as he noticed Tony taking a closer look at what it was showing.

Moving along to the last section it was completely full with photos of Tony and Bucky throughout their time together, whether they were alone or they were together. He noted some from lazy days, or when they had been out on dates. Tony’s mouth twitched when he noticed some from when they had some fights. The subtle location and pictures of Tony slouched over a couch, hands pulling at his hair made him go a bit misty eyed for a moment. The point of the exhibition definitely came across even in just the section about them. Each photo, no matter what mood they were in or what they were doing, showcasing real, raw emotion.

Tony walked back to Bucky then, who was standing in the same place as Tony had left him, and smiled as he stood directly in front of him, taking both of his hands in his own, "I love it, so much."

"I'm glad you do, you inspired me the most." Tony blushed lightly and looked down towards the ground before looking up at Bucky with a bigger smile, "You're such a sap."

Bucky let out a soft chuckle and leaned forward, whispering, "It's because I love you” before he kissed Tony. There was no hesitation in Tony’s actions as he placed his hand on the back of Bucky’s neck and held him closer before pulling away from the kiss and resting their foreheads together, "I love you."

They stayed standing for a few more moments before Tony pulled away, tears in his eyes and a wider grin on his face. He clapped his hands, “Right! Shall we open this to the public?”

“All for nothing if we didn’t.”

They started walking towards the door and Bucky gripped Tony’s hand in his own - flesh on flesh as they opened the door to the crowd waiting to get in.

----------

LOVE, PAIN, AND A WHOLE LOT OF TEARS

as we all know, the up and coming photographer James Barnes has opened his first public exhibition to the this week after releasing teasers in the past few months about what it would hold and a few select images that didn’t reveal all that much.

many were interested in going and on the night more people than expected showed up to the opening night to really see what the fuss was about and whether it lived up to expectations - and to put it short, it exceeded expectations further than any of us could have guessed.

being an art critic for many-a years now, we see that the theme of "love" has been overused in every sense possible, yet just when we thought we'd seen it all and would rather die than go to another exhibition about love, Barnes has successfully pulled us all to our senses and shown us what love is really about rather than our hollywood expectations with his theme of "love and misfortune."

with interviews from everyday normal people, along with his own take on love in his relationship with one Tony Stark - something and someone that is focused on greatly, we get a massive sense of rawness and reality, a big relief and something dearly missed to this critic after years of false expectations of love.

I mustn't say more and ruin it for those who haven't yet been or seen pictures floating online, but i for one would rate this exhibition a firm five stars.

I haven't seen a whole group of people moved to tears so quickly in my entire life, and the tears were still fresh on cheeks even as some left.

we wish Mr. Barnes much luck with his future and look forward to seeing what he does next and what he does with it.

dawn campbell - art critic

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leave some feedback, please!

[holidaysat221b]

Part One of the List of Sherlolly Prompts as of 5/8/2018

Here is a link to the very informal Sherlolly Prompt FAQ

Below is the list of prompts submitted to @holidaysat221b. Where possible, we have tagged the submitter so that credit can be given if a prompt inspires someone to write a fic or create a piece of art.

Some submissions were specifically labeled as Art prompts, and they have been separated into their own category. However, if you are a fic writer and one of the art prompts calls to you, go for it. Likewise, if one of the other prompts makes you want to draw, have fun with it! Prompts that have been filled at least once will be noted with a link to the fic/art, in case that influences your decision to work with one.

We only ask three things:

1) If you use one of the prompts on this list, please remember to credit the prompt and prompter somewhere in your fic summary/art description or in your notes.

2) Please submit an ask or message @holidaysat221b with a link to your work, the prompt you used, the prompter, and how you want to be identified (in cases where your Tumblr and fic/artist name are different). This will allow us to share your work with our followers and tag the prompter (if possible).

3) We have set up a Sherlolly Prompt Collection on Ao3. If you are planning to post your fic or art on Ao3 and would like to add it to the collection, please do. As of this moment, the collection is open and unmoderated. Please remember to credit the prompt and prompter in your fic/art notes.

On to the Prompts as of May 8, 2018

Art

Art prompt:  (I’ve wanted this like burning for five years, I’ll never give up asking)  Sherlock and Molly, the cake scene from Sixteen Candles".   Only in the morgue and Molly’s wearing the lab coat.  -   @sunken-standard  (Prompt fill - Sherlolly // Sixteen Candles by @simplyshelbs16xoxo)

Art prompt:  Potter!lock.  Don’t care if it’s student Sherlock and Molly in their house robes, teachers, wizarding professionals, a recreation of the Order of the Phoenix group photo with Sherlock characters instead. Whatever.  Just as long as it’s Potter!lock.  -  @darnedchild

Art prompt:  Molly and Sherlock’s first real date gets interrupted by a case. Are they dressed up for a fancy evening, or wearing something more suited to fish and chips and a walk around the park?  -  Anonymous

AU/Works that do not/will not fit in with the series current on-screen canon

Sherlock: A TV series featuring a hot guy with awesome deductive skills, his best friend the doctor, the exasperated detective inspector, the sweet landlady, and the pathologist. And no, the pathologist isn’t in love with the hot guy.  -  The Silent Fangirl

A post TRF fic, where Sherlock takes Molly with him, but they return to London a couple years later than in canon because Molly got pregnant along the way (or even twice), so now they are three/four of them instead of two? -  @mychakk

“We had chips. She liked me.” – Sherlock in TLD. What could have been had he and Molly gotten chips in TEH: A kick to Tom’s butt. Happy greeting (a hug at least!) at the end of TEH. Quite a lot of sex with Sherlock instead of Tom. Molly the best man’s date. A (sophisticated. Or not) Molly/Janine cat fight for Janine hitting on SH moments. Dancing, so much Sherlolly dancing (and no leaving early). Probably no Shezza (Shezzer?)—which, hmm, is a shame (But maybe they’ve their own not-being-on-a-sex-holiday-but-sexing-a-lot time). A real proposal to Molly. Molly at family Christmas, maybe even a Christmas wedding. Solving CAM without the threat of exile sharpens Sherlock’s deductive abilities. No Norbury as Molly’s already expecting their first offspring, so Sherlock doesn’t taunt needlessly. Mary as the Sherlolly baby godmother as she’s alive! Culverton Smith is taken down by the duo of Mary and Molly while the latter gives birth there (because the ladies are awesome, plus Mrs H tackles him down). John is so impressed he doesn’t look at any other women. Molly’s big heart brings Eurus from her metaphoric plane the moment she steps into 221B, plus baby Holmes wins her heart too. The Holmes family reconciliation and Eurus is in therapy instead of being a multi-killer. Baker Street Boys Team continues while Baker Street Girls Team gives them a run for their money. Mycroft asks Lady Smallwood out himself to her astonishment and internal squealing. Mummy Holmes gets more grandkids than she could’ve imagined. And basically, everyone walks happily into the sunset. The End. Please note, some things can obviously be modified.  -  @mychakk  (Prompt fill - Turn Right by sunken_standard)

AU: Molly runs away from home when her parents try to arrange a marriage for her. She wants to pursue a life that involves science and marry for love if she ever gets married at all. She meets Sherlock, who is being pressured by his family to marry a nice girl they found for him who loves science as much as he does. It will be interesting when they figure it out.  -  @shadowyqueenbeard  (Prompt fill - Uncertain Terms by geekmama)

AU. Instead of dying, Mary actually does hide from Sherlock and John effectively and they don’t find her. Still wracked by guilt and worried he’ll never see her again, John still imagines her in his mind and Sherlock still goes after Culverton Smith … possibly both to save John and because maybe Smith knows something about where Mary went? To solve the mystery and bring Mary home, Sherlock and Molly team up.  -  @rooneykmara

Uni!lock Sally wakes Molly at 2 am because her junkie boyfriend of dorm 221b is streaking across campus calling her name, so she better stop denying that she’s his girlfriend.  -  @escaily

To cover her butt during New Year’s Eurus lies and tells mummy that Sherlock has a wife, and Mycroft borrows her ‘Sherlock’s wife’ excuse whenever he wants to avoid sticky topics during holidays. The lie gets bigger the more Sherlock avoids family meetings. Until December when Sherlock finds out he’s married to a forensic (E), sex addicted(E), petite (E), intelligent (M), very forgiving (M) paragon of virtue (M). Now he needs to find a stranger that fits the description before Christmas.  -  @escaily

Rock Royalty AU. That AU in which Mary drags Molly into an edgy rock concert of her favorite band “Baker Street Boys” even though everybody and their mother knows that indie acoustics and hippie music is Molly’s thing. Enter Sherlock Holmes lead band member, (the type of Rock Star that sings ‘Wanted Dead or Alive’ while high as a kite) famous for his electric violin solos, addict past and cold attitude. He tries deducing the girl less likely to throw herself at him out of all the fans and finding that one concert goer who doesn’t get turned on by his music. Turns out that Molly the ‘I-said-I’m-not-a-groupie’ pathologist in training is actually an interesting girl when she’s not covering her ears, even if Sherlock needs to educate her on the finger points of violin appreciation. Basically a fic where the Rockstar wants to turn this hater into a fan but actually ends up falling for her instead.  -   @escaily

The Do Over/ Time Travel Sherlolly fic that I NEED. Let’s pretend that a destroyed Molly went to sleep the night of the infamous phone call wishing she could do it all over again, and overnight she wakes up back in Season 1 first ep. If you could get a do over, erase all the bad things that have ever happened with the person you’ve always loved, even if it meant never having the good, would you do it? Especially if said person just broke your trust over the phone. The moment with the riding crop, all the late nights at the morgue, chose to avoid that awful Christmas party (showed up with a boring date), change shifts the day ‘Jim from IT’ asked her out and not offer her help when Sherlock needed to fake his death. Of course, fate still keeps throwing her together with Sherlock no matter what she tries. “You’re not MY Sherlock, you wouldn’t understand,” she whispered at last. “And what did your version of me have that I don’t?” “Many things, I know you think you can’t be a better person, but my Sherlock was.” Or something around those lines where slightly-younger Sherlock feels jealous of TFP Sherlock, because in any version of history Sherlock will always end up falling in love with Molly and she’s already so attuned to his quirks that he resents the ‘other him’ for having so much time with her.  -  @escaily

Crossovers/Works set in or inspired by another specific fictional universe (ie Potter!lock)

I’d really like to see a Daemon (from the His Dark Materials books by Philip Pullman) version of Series 3/TAB/Series 4 (any or all of those), especially when it comes to the ILY scene.  -  Kay

iZombie!Sherlock – Think of this, if Sherlock gets infected we have: 1) Sherlock with white hair 2) Sherlock getting brains from Molly “for experiments” 3) Sherlock getting different attitudes (hippie brain = hippie!Sherlock) 4) Paler than normal pale Sherlock 5) Sherlock with red bloodshot eyes.   Also:  If Molly Hooper gets infected, it’s like she’s the Liv Moore of Barts.  Lestrade as Clive (and relieved to be not only depending on Sherlock to solve crimes).  Sherlock deduces Molly’s hair color and tan (because Molly can’t show up to work with white hair, even whiter skin color, and very slow pulse rate).  Major asshole Boss being the one shipping tainted Utopium to Britain.  -  The Silent Fangirl

Superwholock!Sherlolly  -  The Silent Fangirl

Doctor Who!Sherlock - Molly Hooper as a companion  -  The Silent Fangirl

Me Before You!Sherlock  -  The Silent Fangirl

Molly Hooper as “Mary Reilly”.  -  @darnedchild

Dracula!lock, but maybe mix it up just a little.  Sherlock as the object of Dracula’s affections (Mina) and/or Molly as the vampire expert (Van Helsing)?  - @darnedchild

Sherlock and Lady Molly of Scotland Yard.  Molly Hooper as Lady Molly from “Lady Molly of Scotland Yard” with her crime solving partner Mary (Morstan).  (Note from Mod -   “Lady Molly of Scotland Yard” used to be available via BBC Radio 4 Extra on demand, you may still be able to find it online somewhere.)  -  @lullikiish

A Hades and Persephone AU with Molly as female Hades (the unrequited love at first, the proximity with death) and Sherlock as a male Persephone (the curiosity, the lack of eating).  Irene would be a great Poseidon (the chaos provided by the ocean, the sailor knots).  As for John, he would be a great Hermes!  -  Kay

Gimme “The Full Monty”, baby. Surely someone can find a reason to have Sherlock, John, and Greg get their kits off? Or Molly, Mary, and Sally? Mrs H could give professional pointers and tips to whomever you’re planning to get starkers.  -  Anonymous

A Sherlolly version of “It’s A Wonderful Life”. Sherlock gets to see what his loved ones’ lives would be like if he never existed, realizing the positive impact he had on them when he was alive.  -  @simplyshelbs16xoxo  (Prompt fill - Strange, Isn’t It? by SimplyShelbs16)

Something similar to “The Ransom of Red Chief”, only in this version the kidnappers have figured out that Molly Hooper is a pressure point for Sherlock Holmes. They take her captive, intending to blackmail Sherlock or hold Molly for ransom; but Molly Hooper is having none of that nonsense. While Sherlock works to save her, Molly finds ways to torment, injure, and outwit her captors. Whether she escapes on her own, finds a way to let Sherlock and John know where she’s at, or ends up driving her kidnappers crazy to the point that they give up and send her back is up to the author. Could go humorous or dark very easily.  -  Anonymous

Clique/Sherlock Crossover - After the events of TFP, Molly Hooper (who is actually Jude McDermid) decides to go back to Edinburgh, broken-hearted & bound to continue the “family business” after years of running away from it. Gone is her long hair & colorful jumpers: she completely changed her look & have every information about Molly Hooper destroyed. Years passed, she forms the Solasta Women’s Initiative, much to her brother’s delight, until a horrific event brings Sherlock Holmes back into her world again. It’s more of a Sherlolly/Judelock mash-up where Sherlock wants to know why she left, who she really is, & how he’s still madly in love with her. Molly/Jude is more like she’s finally embracing the life she thought she never wanted, until she realizes that she can never forget the love she has for Sherlock. Can she be Jude & love him as well? Can Sherlock accept her true reality, or does he only love her as Molly & not Jude. Throw in a nice mystery/thriller plot too! Oh yeah Mycroft, who knew Molly is Jude from the beginning but decided to let Sherlock figure it out on his own, is determined to stop this union at all cost. Pls include all the girls & guys in Clique, especially Holly since she’s a badass off to take down Jude and her “girls” no matter what! It’s a crazy plot but if you’ve seen the 1st 2 episodes of Clique, it screams for a Sherlolly crossover fic! Thanks for reading this uber-long fic prompt!  -  @violetjersey

A reversed Potter!lolly with Sherlock being the Muggle-born, while Molly’s the pureblood witch (the likes of Luna Lovegood). Sherlolly, of course.  -  @mychakk

Agatha Christie’s “And Then There Were None” – because I always think of the movies when I see Mizjoely’s U.N. Owen tag.  -  @darnedchild

We know Molly can keep other people’s secrets. Maybe Molly has a few secrets of her own, i.e. her very secret collection of FWBs. Because honestly, you think she would just sit alone in her home every night, year after year, quietly pining for a romantic relationship with Sherlock? And what a surprise when Sherlock and their friends find out…maybe at Sherlock and Molly’s wedding? Crossover possibilities depend on FWBs selected…Q (James Bond), Loki (Avengers), Doctor Strange, etc.  -  @rubyred7531

Crack!fic based on an episode of “Friends”. Sherlock marries Janine. (Maybe for a case, or because Molly is still engaged to Tom.) Unfortunately, he says Molly’s name during his wedding vows …  -  @shadowyqueenbeard

“Two Mules for Sister Sara”, but with undercover Father Sherlock (or Brother Sherlock if you want to go that way). You could go with the original western cowboy period or make it modern. You can keep it PG -or- you could go for that priest kink M/E rating.  -  @darnedchild

Reverse “Runaway Bride” AU, where Sherlock is getting married to Janine and Molly to Tom at some venue with space for lots of simultaneous events. Then they both get dumped in the altar. And it’s a meet cute of two people commiserating about how annoying it is to be the jilted ‘acceptable’ fiance in a rom com.  -  @escaily

Period pieces/TAB

Victorian “Hooper”lock—Molly in disguise as “Hooper” the man, and they work together on a case and sparks fly. They flirt and all, and Sherlock can’t figure out right away that she’s a woman, and I think it might not even bother him that much.  -  @lullikiish

TABverse – After the whole bride thing Molly Hooper asks Sherlock to help her create a new Alias for herself, something ‘detective proof’. The thing is that Sherlock doesn’t approve of the nurse Alias, or shopkeeper, or the governess one, or the maid costume (brothel girl disguise almost kills him). For Sherlock her new persona will just have to be the wife of someone with status, someone like him.  -  @escaily

Song fic/Inspired by lyrics

Song Fic:  Adele’s “Water Under the Bridge”  -  @darnedchild  (Prompt fill - Water Under The Bridge by SimplyShelbs16)

Song Fic:  … I would love something based on “Samson” by Regina Spektor please.  -  @chelle812

Song Fic:  Katy Perry’s “Unconditionally”  -  @darnedchild

Song Fic:  Texas’ “I’ll See It Through”  -  @darnedchild  (Prompt fill - And I’ll See It Through by darnedchild)

Song Fic:  … I’ve got a quote from a song.  “You only know you love her when you let her go.”  (Note from Mod - The song appears to be Passenger’s “Let Her Go”)  -  @flowerstar5  (Prompt fill - Turn Right by sunken_standard)

Song Fic: Angst.  Based on the ABBA song “Knowing Me, Knowing You”.   Sherlock and Molly have tried to have a serious relationship, but it just didn’t work out.  -  @shadowyqueenbeard

Song Fic: 8 Seconds “Kiss You”  -  @shadowyqueenbeard

OT3/Sherlock, Molly, and ?

A case involving wine and stolen spatulas leads to Mycroft Holmes being attracted to Molly Hooper. Too bad Molly’s had enough of the Holmeses, and Sherlock mooning over her really isn’t helping. (Molly Hooper/Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes)  -  The Silent Fangirl

Molly wants to meet The Woman. Irene and Sherlock are still friends, and Molly is curious. Much to everyone’s surprise, Molly and Irene hit it off fairly quickly. (Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper/Irene Adler)  -   Anonymous

When Sherlock is injured and stuck in a cast up to his thigh, Mary and Molly find out JUST how grumpy he can get. They end up putting him by a window with binoculars, his pain medication, snacks, juice and his mobile. What happens next?  (Molly Hooper/Sherlock Holmes/Mary (Morstan)Watson)  -  @penaltywaltz

[betterreadthandeadbookclub]

Winner Revealed in Writing Contest!

The time has finally come for us to announce the winners of our Short Story and Poetry Writing Contest. To be fair, we’ve selected a winner from each category since we didn’t feel they could be appropriately compared to each other. We’d like to thank everyone that entered, and encourage them to continue writing.

  Announcement: This holiday season we will be conducting a giveaway! Two copies will be available of the book we’re reading and reviewing over Winter Break. More details to come soon, but be on the lookout for this free opportunity to win a book!

Poetry Winner: Reflection by C. E. Galdi

Tumblr: @maudgone

REFLECTION

wonder if I am

the pair of eyes I wake up to every morning.

there is a mirror above my bed.

I snap myself into focus to confirm

that it is my reflection, and nothing more.

wonder if I am

the glittery powders caked onto shiny skin

that I apply methodically, like painting.

they say painting is calming, that it doesn’t matter

what the finished product looks like.

wonder if I am

the hollowed-out gremlin in the gas station bathroom

mirror, reflected like a demon, yellow skin and

pockmarks like an antiquated plague.

I smell of antibacterial soap and death.

wonder if I am

the lopsided grin in an old photo

smile stretched too wide, unknowing.

everybody else composes their faces,

knows how to stand.  

wonder if I am

the girl in the front camera

who smiles mysteriously and has no blemishes.

she is too pretty to be me, really,

the screen is lying. she’s fake and so am I.

wonder if I am

something real, or if they all just

see right through me. maybe they can’t

look at me, maybe I’m just

background noise, a faceless shape.

Short Story Winner: Guardian by Charlotte H.

Tumblr: @treepengui

Guardian

  I am her guardian, and I have been since she was small. No, I was never bigger than her. I only remember a short time where I was not with her and the others.

  My mother, she was gone, and the nice woman had taken us in. I don’t remember the name of the nice woman. Maybe Cynthia. Human names are weird like that. But while I was there, Maybe Cynthia gave me the name of ‘Chloe’. Chloe is not my name.

  Her mother and her father came to see us, eventually. They were not the first to visit us, to look at our ears and our paws and to smile and coo. But they were the only ones to take us home.

  They did not take my brothers and sisters. In the car, in that dark box, I was alone.

  I don’t like being in the car. It moves unnaturally fast. It’s too small. The humans, they are relaxed there. They are at ease, listening to music and talking.

  I don’t understand how they are. Maybe because they are not put into cages.  Dark, plastic cages.

  The mother’s name was Jennifer, but she is not the only Jennifer I have met. The father’s name was Trevor. I have never met another Trevor in person, but I know they exist.

  What is the point of names if there is someone else who shares one? Names are something to mark you as being you, so why share?

  Humans are strange like that.

  Her name was Christine. She had one sister and one brother, both older than her. Her sister’s name was Chloe, so they gave me a new name, thankfully. Her brother’s name was Alex.

  They named me Zoe.

  Zoe, Chloe, Zoe, Chloe. They sound practically the same, except Zoe is by far better. I don’t know a human by the name of Zoe. I am the Only Zoe.

Zoe is a nice name.

  Christine had her seventh birthday a week after I turned one. They burned eight candles and ate cake and sang a song that they would sing, ritually, every year. They gave her presents.

  “When’s Zoe’s birthday?” She asked after all the other small humans had left.   “We don’t actually know,” her mother answered. “They found her in the wild.”   Chloe frowned. “That’s not fair. She can have my birthday, too.” She picked me up and held me above her head while her parents rushed to grab me.

  “You’re one year old now, Zoe!” She said, beaming. Then she sang the ritual song for me.

  I slept in her bed, hers alone. Chloe and Alex had tried to set me down on their beds, have me warm them, but I left them.

  Christine often woke up in the middle of the night, silently terrified. I would go to her and lick her face, and she would pet my head.

  She’d dry her tears and shakily tell me her dreams. I would stay by her, guarding her. I am her guardian, after all.

  While she slept, I would fight the darkness around her bed. They would attack me while they tried to get to her. In the early days, they often beat me and got to her.

  As time went on, I learned how to fight them. They don’t like light, I learned. I also learned that humans don’t like light in the middle of the night either. They despise noise, but so do humans when they rest.

  In the end, I resorted to movement. The darkness couldn’t reach her if they were constantly being disrupted by my tail, or paws, or head.

  Christine grew and grew.  Maybe a month or so after her tenth birthday, Alex left home and rarely visited.

  “He’s at school, Zoe. Don’t worry about him.” Chloe had told me when she found me looking around Alex’s abandoned room.

  I wasn’t searching for him, though. I had found light in his room and was trying to take it to Christine. Chloe picked me up and carried me out of his room before closing the door and cutting off my access.

  Christine cried as she hugged a friend, at least a year later. They stood in our front yard just weeping. Finally, Christine’s parents and the friend’s parents came to take them both away.   Jennifer and Trevor hugged Christine as she continued to cry, now inside. Christine picked me up and held me to her chest and cried.

  That night, I laid on top of her back. Christine, unlike the other humans, always slept on her front.

  I had found that if I stayed with her all night, the darkness wouldn’t attack her. So I did.

  “Emmy’s moving back to London,” she whispered to me. “So I’ll never see her again.”

  I wished she hadn’t said it, because the darkness would always use it against her. I liked knowing, though.

  The next year came and my Christine was twelve. Jennifer, Trevor, Chloe, and Christine packed everything into boxes.   Strange men and women came into our house and took the boxes and packed them into a large truck.

  Christine’s family left the house for hours, then came back with more things (Christine was given a bag full of writing and pictures). Christine cried again, much more than when her friend had left. Even Chloe cried, though not very much. By the time Christine was twelve, Chloe was already cold.

  Then came the car trip.

  It was a longer trip than I had had ever been on. It took us two days to reach ‘Michigan’, our new home.  

  I hated the entire time. I hated the car and I hated the cramped space. I hated the plastic box they put me in and I hated the music they played. I hissed and peed, and then everyone was annoyed and angry and I hated that too.

  I have never been as hateful as those two days.

  Christine was thirteen when she had her First Boyfriend. She told me all about him during the days and nights. I liked the new home much better than the old home. There was less darkness.

  “He’s… alright. He’s nice and funny, and cute, I guess? And he asked me out, and my friends told me to say yes, so I did? I don’t know.”   I wondered then if Christine even liked him at all. And now, thinking back, maybe she did. Just not in the way everyone was hoping.

  Trevor hated the First Boyfriend in a very confusing way. Jennifer liked the First Boyfriend, but not enough to keep Trevor from making the First Boyfriend into the First Ex-Boyfriend.

  Christine didn’t cry for him like Chloe thought she would. Chloe had brought her cookie-dough ice cream, her favorite, and a movie she thought she liked. Christine liked it well enough.

  “Why aren’t you sad?”   “I guess I’m sad.”

  “I cried over my First Boyfriend.”   Too much name sharing.

  “Well, I guess I didn’t. We can still have the ice cream, right? Even if I didn’t cry?”

  Chloe had laughed. “Of course.”

  Christine had her Second Boyfriend, or her Justin, when she was fifteen. Trevor and Jennifer let her keep him, and they dated for a while.

  I never liked Justin. Justin, to me, was the human equivalent of a car trip to some, unknown location.

  When Christine came back home crying, with a mark on her face, I knew that Justin was the human version of a car ride to the vet.

  There was lots of yelling in the Days After Justin. Christine yelled at her phone and Trevor and Jennifer yelled at Justin when he came to visit, then Chloe yelled at him too as well as her phone.

  Chloe left, just like Alex, when Christine turned sixteen.

  The house was more empty with Chloe gone. Christine didn’t cry as much anymore. She was just there.

  There was even more darkness to fight in the nights.

  Jennifer and Trevor came back home with a dog, Jacob.

  Jacob looked different from me. I have cream colored fur, while he had brown. He liked the name Jacob.

  I have met many people named Jacob.

  Jacob helped me defend Christine.

  Christine smiled more in the days after Jacob came.

  When Christine turned seventeen, she had a small sleepover with just her closest friends.

  Christine, I am proud to say, has many friends. She is not a loner like Chloe was.

  I stayed in Christine’s room with them. They pet me while they gossiped.

  The next morning, after breakfast but before the other girls left, they returned to Christine’s room.

  Christine closed her door and sat on the floor, gesturing the others to gather around her. There was darkness, even in the middle of the day, and Christine was scared. More than scared, terrified. I sat on her lap and fought the darkness.

  “I have something to say, and you guys can’t tell anyone else. Seriously. Not your parents, not your siblings. None of our others friends. Alright?”   The other girls agreed, and Christine hesitated. She made them all shake her small finger with their small finger (pinky swear, she had declared).

  “I think that I’m gay.” Christine whispered.

  There was silence, then suddenly, the girls grouped around her. They pat her shoulder, and hugged her, and whispered encouragements. I did my best to do the same.

  Christine smiled, crying a little. But good tears, not moving-to-Michigan tears or Emmy’s-going-back tears. Happy tears. Before then, I didn’t know that happy tears could exist.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  When Christine turned eighteen, there was the First Girlfriend. Christine liked the First Girlfriend a lot more then her First Boyfriend.

  Unlike her First Boyfriend, her First Girlfriend was a Secret Girlfriend.    It wasn’t until they graduated high school that her Secret Girlfriend turned into her Girlfriend.

  It was at the graduation party that Trevor and Jennifer hosted when they came out. Like the party, there was silence. The silence lasted a lot longer than the silence at the party.

  Jacob barked in an attempt to break the silence.

  They ignored him.

  I sat between Christine and Girlfriend and meowed.

  The silence broke.

  Trevor and Jennifer hugged Christine and Girlfriend, and there was a Long Talk that I didn’t get to hear, and the party continued as before. Christine and her Girlfriend were with each other a lot more though, with more hugs and laughter.

  Then, in the months after, Christine left, just as Chloe and Alex had, and Jacob and I were alone.

  Trevor and Jennifer weren’t good replacements for our (my, really, but I can share) girl. They both stopped leaving early in the morning for work and instead they stayed at home.

  Trevor took up gardening and Jennifer started to bake. They went on long walks with Jacob, leaving me alone.

  Chloe, Alex, and Christine all visited us. Alex and Christine both brought home Girlfriends. Chloe brought home nobody.

  And, as nature would declare it, I started aching more and more in my thirteenth year. As did Jacob, actually. He would come home from walks tired and would lie with me. When our people visited, I had to fight Christine’s darkness alone.

  That caused lots of frowning from our people, and Jacob was taken away from home (and me!) for several days.

  In my fourteenth year, Trevor and Jennifer brought home a small black and white cat, (smaller than me, at least) that they named Andrew.

  Andrew was three when they took him in, much older than I had been when they took me home. According to Andrew, he had been sick and wasn’t allowed to leave the house he was in. A likely story for being an unlikable cat, but we pretended to believe him.

  Andrew warmed up to us pretty quickly, actually. Jacob and I trained him on how to best fight the shadows. There was rarely darkness when it was just Jennifer and Trevor, but whenever the others visited, they always brought at least a little. We told Andrew about the times before him. I told him about the Old House, and about Christine’s Justin.

  We waited for our Christine to return to us.

  In the next year, we were struck by two Tragedies. I learned about the first from Andrew. Andrew told us both about the Death of Chloe, and then we learned more. People visited, unfamiliar people dressed in black. Christine and Alex returned. Everyone cried, not just Christine. Christine dressed in black, which I had never seen her do.

  I was very glad to have Andrew with us. There was too much darkness to fight alone.

  The Second Tragedy came three months later in the form of ‘Jacob Has Cancer’. That was just the beginning, however. The true tragedy came about a month later, when Jacob died.

  Cats can’t cry the same way humans can. But sometimes it felt like we should be able to.

  In the next year, when I was sixteen, Christine came back with a Fiancée.    This was the same woman she had brought home the last few times, expect this time, she wasn’t Alana the Girlfriend, she was Alana the Fiancée.

  Over the course of that year, the Wedding was planned. The two didn’t want anything too extravagant, apparently. Christine fought her Trevor and Jennifer on it, but they arranged for the wedding to be shortly after Christine’s twenty-second birthday.

  While they planned, my health got progressively worse. I learned that some cats lose their vision when they get old. I was one of them.

Andrew helped me as much as he could, and fought the darkness as well as he could alone.

  Christine would hold me close to her chest and I could feel her heartbeat, steady and alive. Most humans live so much longer than we do, so I know that her heart will keep beating for many years to come.

  After my seventeenth birthday, the Family left Andrew and I to go to the Wedding. A strange girl visited us twice a day to feed us and pet us. Andrew fought her darkness while I watched, and when she left, he would return to me.

  Trevor and Jennifer came back to us after two weeks. They took me to the vet many times and each time took me back home looking more worried than when we had left.

  When the Last Day came, I knew it would be. I stayed near them, but wouldn’t crawl into their laps. They pet me while crouched on the floor.

  Andrew told me that they were trying to get Christine and Alex to come back. I didn’t care that much about Alex. I wanted my Christine.

  By the time Christine came, my breathing had become more laborious. She pet me gently while crying softly and whispering memories to me.

  Andrew fought the darkness around us while we waited for my Last Day to end. But by the time it was my Last Day, my vision had deteriorated so much that I could barely see Christine’s face.

  They picked me up and wrapped me gently in a towel. All of their movements were gentle, which I appreciated. The Last Day hurts.

  I hated the car ride less than I hated the other car rides. I stayed in Christine’s lap while we drove, and when she carried me I didn’t resist.

  They had taken me to the vet.

  My Last Day ended with a pin prick while surrounded by the humans that loved me. As Last Days go, it wasn’t the worst. They got their tears in my fur, though, and I didn't get to see Andrew again. But it didn’t hurt more than the hurt that I was already feeling.

  My Christine will have to be protected by Andrew, and then another cat or dog. But I know that she will forever remember me as her Guardian.

Thank you again to all who entered and congratulations to our winners!

Better Read than Dead,

Geneva & Addie

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[cursivescrawl]

Regret

Rating: PG Category: Mafia Summary: Ever since the kidnapping of his sisters, Chrome’s life has been fueled by regret.

They're always there with him.

Their accusing eyes bore into his back whenever he collapses, focuses on the television or a mobile game instead of the information he should be collecting and sorting through, because doesn't Chrome remember? He's at fault for this, he's the reason May and June aren't laughing and chattering through the apartment, he's the reason his parents divorced and Chrome was left in the giant house full of ticking clocks and a mother who was barely ever there, immersing himself in the work he got from the Rozzo mafia family and putting himself through online college (psychology, an associate's degree) at the same time as he still kept his highschool grades up, two long lonely years of work and silence and whispers until the moment he turned eighteen and could move out by himself on the wages he got from the Rozzo family and what little he got from selling the house in the bad housing market.

His sisters' voices whisper in his mind as Chrome walks into his first apartment, eighteen and scared and alone.  He thought moving out would help.  It doesn't.  And he can't find a way to get rid of the memories and regrets even in this new space.

Buying things they'd like doesn't help – they're sitting there, waiting to be used, it feels wrong when Chrome touches them.

Buying things they'd hate doesn't help – they look incongruous, refurbished couches and a twelve-inch TV in the plush apartment, sitting there and waiting for complaints that never come, until Chrome wants to scream.

The apartment ends up furnished like something from a magazine, all smooth black leather and gleaming chrome (the pun almost makes Chrome laugh when he sees the online furniture ad that chrome is the future, because it's not, he's not, he's living in the past and he hates it and he can't drag himself out) and impersonal empty space. Bookshelves fill with unused books that Chrome can never bring himself to read, because half of them are things May and June would squeal over and half of them are things that he can't bring himself to enjoy anymore, stories where everyone ends up happy and Chrome just can't deal with the smiling reunions and tearful joy.  Even books he thinks he'd like normally – horror novels that delve into the human mind, dark fantasy where things are actually lost and the characters feel real, dystopian novels with screwed up societies and intriguing concepts of behavior – they don't feel right when he gets into the story, starts enjoying the story, and realizes he's enjoying something and is that okay? Should he be enjoying things with May and June gone?  He doesn't know and it scares him so much that one day when he shelves a book he never picks it back up again.

He enrolls in an online bachelor's degree program to fill the time.  He begins a habit of having Pandora on all the time, layered over a podcast or the radio or both to fill the silence, to try and drown out the ghosts of voices that still linger in his mind.

It's weird.  His workload as a full-time informant is so heavy that he shouldn't be able to think of anything else.  Selling the information he has, gathering new information for clients who ask, working on his psychology degree at the same time just for something else to do, they take up all the time he has and Chrome is glad for it.  When he's focused he doesn't hear the voices so much.  But May and June are like his breath – even when he's not thinking about it, they're there, but when he starts thinking about them he just can't stop.

It gets to the point where he doesn't know what he'd do without them always hovering in the back of his mind.  What would his life even look like?  Would he die?  He doesn't know, it doesn't seem possible that he'd be able to move on.

He survives.  That's all.

Chrome barely notices his nineteenth and twentieth birthdays.  He only notices his twenty-first because he doesn't have to use a fake ID to get into a bar that one of his clients wants to meet in.

He's in Washington DC one day for a meeting with a client (perched in one of the places nobody has the time to look, watching people, wondering how they live and subconsciously watching for two twin girls a few years younger than him with black hair and constant banter) when he sees a man walk up to a confused and disheveled woman and link arms with her.  It's not unusual in DC for that to happen, except that there are two other men dressed almost exactly like that one, all watching the same woman.  Chrome wouldn't have noticed the pattern if he wasn't up so high.

On a hunch, he pulls out one of his phones and flicks the modified camera up.  Brown specks twirl sluggishly around the woman, purple sparks flying off all three men, radiant magic in the sea of life that is Washington DC.

Chrome puts down the phone and watches the woman, then without quite knowing why, he jumps down and follows her and the man, activating one of the runes he paid to have etched into the back of his coat.  He's like a shadow as he slips between people, gazes flicking over him and then forgetting he was even there, courtesy of the rune.

The man and the woman enter a closed coffee shop.  Chrome hesitates for a moment or two, wondering why he's even interested in this, why he's here, then shrugs and reaches for the door handle and decides to think about it later.

He's yelling at her.  Chrome's entrance quickly turns into a physical intervention.

The man has powerful magic, but Chrome has been in scuffles with mages before, so he manages to get himself and the woman to safety before too much harm is done.  He's bleeding, a scrape across one shoulder from a thrown chair when they're finally a decent distance away, but he doesn't really care.

The woman's name is Naomi and she's from a Chinese company that sells medicine to the normal world, and potions to the abnormal world. Chrome has heard of it – Situ Pharmaceuticals, he's also been watching the power struggle at the top – but he feigns ignorance, draws out of Naomi the story of how she was attacked and forced to use one of her own experimental potions to escape.

Being displaced from her home for something she had no knowledge of.... The story tugs at those strings Chrome tries to keep hidden. He almost can see his sisters clinging to Naomi, laughing, chattering at her, offering her solace and comfort.

He offers her a job.

She accepts.

It's odd having another person in the apartment.  Naomi is quiet at first, polite and unsure, but after a week or two she starts integrating herself into Chrome's routine.  She's a welcome presence, someone who can pull him from his thoughts when he starts staring into space and not working, and he does the same for her when a mention of potions or her old company comes up.

They don't talk about family.  Or personal things, really, at all, even though they live and work together.

Chrome pays Naomi more than he probably should for work that she doesn't really do much of.  She's helpful still, collecting information that he can't get and just being there in the apartment. She has, Chrome finds, a witty and sharp sense of humor and a way of rapid-firing words at him that keeps him always alert, always on his toes and ready.

He redevelops his own skill with language, with sarcasm and lies and jests, and they get along in a constant match of wordplay.

Slowly, Chrome starts to take notice of times and dates again, and he doesn't have much time to dwell on the guilt he knows he should still be feeling.  Days pass by, always different from the last and always intriguing, clients and information swirling into a pattern that Chrome and Naomi can only just glimpse from their dealings with the information that runs the magical underground.

It's spring and Naomi has been with him for nearly a year when the Rozzo family asks him to investigate a neko trading ring that's cropped up on their territory.  Chrome pretends he's a buyer, infiltrates one of the shows, and accidentally ends up walking home with a neko by his side.  Whoops.

The neko's name is Ari and he's nineteen, just a few years younger than Chrome, and Chrome feels a bit odd keeping him collared but knows if Ari doesn't belong to him he'll be out on the streets or back in a cage, because that's how nekos are in this world.

Naomi doesn't like Ari at first sight.  Chrome keeps her from murdering him.  He knows it brings back bad memories for her, memories of the neko assassin that she can't keep out of her mind every time one of Ari's ears flick or his tail twitches, but he doesn't want to get rid of Ari.

They learn to get along.  It takes four months and a tracker anklet that Ari is forbidden to take off, but they learn to live together, work together, and Chrome no longer has to have three soundtracks playing at once.  He just has Pandora in the background, Pandora or NPR for those rare moments that everything is silent and Naomi is working and Ari is out meeting clients.  But those don't happen much anymore.

The third person is a surprise.  Chrome has never liked lectoblixes – cousins of vampires that suck life force instead of blood – but there are some in his information network, and he's visiting one that calls herself “Risa” one day when he finds a little girl scared out of her mind and with twenty-five, maybe thirty years already drained off her life.

The sight of her tugs something in Chrome that he hasn't felt in long years.  She's wan, probably a runaway, but her face is determined and there's an intelligence behind the fear in those gray eyes that reminds Chrome of how June would look at the top of a high dive.

When the girl runs out of the lectoblix's house, Chrome slams the door in the lectoblix's face and follows her.

When she collapses from exhaustion and shock not even a block away, Chrome lifts her up and takes her back to the apartment.

She's nine, he finds when she wakes up, nine years old and scared and unwilling to tell Chrome and Naomi what happened before the lectoblix.  She can't say her name, either, instead choosing one for herself after seeing her new reflection in the mirror – Dark, she names herself, and Chrome breathes a sigh of relief because for a few moments he thought she was going to say “June”.

Raising a kid isn't something Chrome thought he'd be doing.  He remembers how he used to take care of his little sisters, but he shies away from those thoughts, because they're still painful and he's still responsible and he still hasn't found where they are or what happened to them even after seven years of searching.  He's probably not the best parent, but Dark is intelligent and learns from him how to manipulate and gather information and sort through it and even how to use knives for self-defense.  Naomi teaches her too, takes care of her and teaches her about potions and languages and things Chrome has no use for.

But it's Ari that has the greatest influence.  Naomi and Chrome are Dark's teachers, but it's Ari who takes on the role of a parent, making sure Dark has all she needs and even daring to stand up to Chrome a time or two when he's too immersed in work to look at the child.  Dark is nothing like June, like Chrome feared she'd be, and Ari is protective over her, so it's okay.  Everything is okay.  And time passes that way.

And then there comes a day when Chrome looks up.

Naomi sits in front of the lighted television, on the black leather couch, in a flurry of papers, marking corrections and updates to a binder of information.  Dark sits cross-legged on the floor, focused on the laptop Chrome bought her for her eleventh birthday and chattering at Ari and occasionally retrieving papers for Naomi.  Ari lounges on the back of a leather chair, eyes closed, content purring and a flicking tail the only sign he's awake and listening to Dark's complaints.

His music session, Chrome notices, has timed out.  He doesn't need it.  Naomi mutters to herself quietly in Chinese as she scribbles down information, Dark talks preteen nonsense over the clicking of her keyboard, and Ari's faint purring underlies every other sound in the apartment.  There's no room for thought, but Chrome's mind is at peace.

He smiles.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer,” snaps Naomi in English at him.  Chrome just grins wider.  Naomi makes one last note and looks up at him, eyebrows raised.

“Something wrong?” asks Ari, opening his eyes and sitting up, always more concerned than abrasive Naomi or childish Dark.  Chrome laughs.

“Not at all,” he says cheerily, saves the email he was working on, knocks his vibrating phone to the floor, and kicks his feet up onto his desk.  “Not at all.”

Dark gives him a strange look.  Naomi goes back to her work with a disparaging mutter.  Chrome ignores them both in favor of mulling over his newest revelation.

The loss of his sisters still aches.  There will never be a time when Chrome doesn't regret what he did.  But now that gaping void in his chest, in his life, isn't so dark.

“I'm going out,” he announces suddenly, and stands, and takes pleasure in the way Dark waves goodbye and Naomi tells him not to forget his runed blade again and Ari offers to accompany him.

Yes.

He may have lost his family, but somehow, he's built a family out of the lost.

[whereexomeetsfandom]

Humanizing Idols

It's moments like these where I wish I was a little more active within the community, because I love being a part of open discussions. Even if this post doesn't manage to find someone who wishes to participate in this conversation, I want to put my thoughts out there. They've been with me for several days now, and I think it's time to give them the light of day.

Coming into the kpop fandom with no prior knowledge of what the community generally thought/felt about idols, I have to say I was a little shocked. As some people know, I was previously invested in gaming YouTubers. There were definitely fans who put those YouTubers on top of pedestals and made them into flawless role models for themselves to follow indefinitely. But there almost seems to be an exaggeration of that when you look at some of the fans within the kpop community. It seemed strange to me that there are people out there who wholeheartedly view idols as objects of their affections. They must be friendly, approachable, beautiful, fashionable, available for these people to manipulate to their imaginations all the time, and I still don't understand the sense of entitlement someone has to have to view real human beings in this way.

It makes for being a fan stressful, I would imagine. The instant your idol slips up, your unrealistic image of them becomes shattered and you have to deal with the disappointment that accompanies that. It's the very reason why you see fans suddenly drop their support for an idol when a "dating scandal" occurs, only to come back to them the instant they hear they've broken up.

Now, I don't really condone the other extreme to this either. No one should blindly support an idol through every mistake they make with half-assed excuses. If idols say something offensive or ride the line of what's right/wrong, people have the right to speak up about it and ask for more open-mindedness of these idols, especially with how international kpop has become recently. That kind of discussion is what fosters progress, and the fans that condemn others for questioning idols (as well as the fans who make death threats towards said idols for making potential mistakes) only serve to hinder that progress.

So how do we find a happy medium where fans don't place impossible expectations on idols and don't see them as people who can do no wrong?

I honestly believe the answer lies in something that has already been done within the kpop industry: reality shows. I'm not talking about the variety shows that have groups answer silly questions or play funny games (though those are also great content for fans and I am totally not opposed to shows that fall into this category). I'm talking about straight-arrowed, no-nonsense reality shows (of the Korean type and not of the faked, manufactured American type). This comes after having just watched It's Dangerous Outside the Blankets (for my boy Xiumin).

Do y'all realize how humanizing shows like this really are? We see idols puffy-faced and makeupless and sleepy and grumpy and awkward and frustrated and human. It's hard to think of an idol has some flawless, otherworldly being when they wake up with messy bedhead and grumble about having to cook food and scratch their butt mindlessly, don't you think? It opens up a possibility for these idols to show their real emotions, their real selves, without having to put on airs for some show or radio interview or performance.

It really irks me that more companies aren't jumping on this bandwagon with their idols, because they themselves want to perpetuate this idea that idols are marketable and only hold value when they're being 100%. I get that it's easy to assign value in this way, but you also run a higher risk of these idols falling into a place of no return. It becomes commonplace for journalists to write clickbait articles taking some idol's words out of context, because you're cultivating an audience that puts an extreme amount of importance on being perfect. Saesangs are motivated to creep on idols' privacy because they garner attention whenever they can find out juicy gossip about who's dating who. That's not even to mention the kind of morally- and ethically-questionable stance this imposes on idols who have to fear being real-life people out in the public sphere.

We, as consumers of kpop, are allowed to go out looking ugly on bad days, are allowed to enter public spaces in peace, are allowed to mess up and say something hurtful to then be offered the opportunity to apologize and grow from the mistake. So how do we have any right to turn around and demand idols to then be perfect themselves? We should all be actively working on breaking those kind of unreasonable expectations within ourselves, not only for our own sake as consumers but for the sakes of our favorite idols as well, so that they may feel even a bit more comfortable in their real skin.

At the end of the day, I'm all for more idols guest-appearing on shows that allow for them to slow down from the idol life and show their real selves. Let them be messy and dirty and obsessive and whatever else they really are, because the more we normalize their everyday lives, the more fans come to realize that the people they love and support have their low points too.

[holidaysat221b]

Part One of the List of Sherlolly Prompts as of 4/3/2018

Here is a link to the very informal Sherlolly Prompt FAQ

Below is the list of prompts submitted to @holidaysat221b. Where possible, we have tagged the submitter so that credit can be given if a prompt inspires someone to write a fic or create a piece of art.

Some submissions were specifically labeled as Art prompts, and they have been separated into their own category. However, if you are a fic writer and one of the art prompts calls to you, go for it. Likewise, if one of the other prompts makes you want to draw, have fun with it! Prompts that have been filled at least once will be noted with a link to the fic/art, in case that influences your decision to work with one.

We only ask three things:

1) If you use one of the prompts on this list, please remember to credit the prompt and prompter somewhere in your fic summary/art description or in your notes.

2) Please submit an ask or message @holidaysat221b with a link to your work, the prompt you used, the prompter, and how you want to be identified (in cases where your Tumblr and fic/artist name are different). This will allow us to share your work with our followers and tag the prompter (if possible).

3) We have set up a Sherlolly Prompt Collection on Ao3. If you are planning to post your fic or art on Ao3 and would like to add it to the collection, please do. As of this moment, the collection is open and unmoderated. Please remember to credit the prompt and prompter in your fic/art notes.

On to the Prompts as of April 3, 2018

Art

Art prompt:  (I’ve wanted this like burning for five years, I’ll never give up asking)  Sherlock and Molly, the cake scene from Sixteen Candles".   Only in the morgue and Molly’s wearing the lab coat.  -   @sunken-standard  (Prompt fill - Sherlolly // Sixteen Candles by @simplyshelbs16xoxo)

Art prompt:  Potter!lock.  Don’t care if it’s student Sherlock and Molly in their house robes, teachers, wizarding professionals, a recreation of the Order of the Phoenix group photo with Sherlock characters instead. Whatever.  Just as long as it’s Potter!lock.  -  @darnedchild

Art prompt:  Molly and Sherlock’s first real date gets interrupted by a case. Are they dressed up for a fancy evening, or wearing something more suited to fish and chips and a walk around the park?  -  Anonymous

AU/Works that do not/will not fit in with the series current on-screen canon

Sherlock: A TV series featuring a hot guy with awesome deductive skills, his best friend the doctor, the exasperated detective inspector, the sweet landlady, and the pathologist. And no, the pathologist isn’t in love with the hot guy.  -  The Silent Fangirl

A post TRF fic, where Sherlock takes Molly with him, but they return to London a couple years later than in canon because Molly got pregnant along the way (or even twice), so now they are three/four of them instead of two? -  @mychakk

“We had chips. She liked me.” – Sherlock in TLD. What could have been had he and Molly gotten chips in TEH: A kick to Tom’s butt. Happy greeting (a hug at least!) at the end of TEH. Quite a lot of sex with Sherlock instead of Tom. Molly the best man’s date. A (sophisticated. Or not) Molly/Janine cat fight for Janine hitting on SH moments. Dancing, so much Sherlolly dancing (and no leaving early). Probably no Shezza (Shezzer?)—which, hmm, is a shame (But maybe they’ve their own not-being-on-a-sex-holiday-but-sexing-a-lot time). A real proposal to Molly. Molly at family Christmas, maybe even a Christmas wedding. Solving CAM without the threat of exile sharpens Sherlock’s deductive abilities. No Norbury as Molly’s already expecting their first offspring, so Sherlock doesn’t taunt needlessly. Mary as the Sherlolly baby godmother as she’s alive! Culverton Smith is taken down by the duo of Mary and Molly while the latter gives birth there (because the ladies are awesome, plus Mrs H tackles him down). John is so impressed he doesn’t look at any other women. Molly’s big heart brings Eurus from her metaphoric plane the moment she steps into 221B, plus baby Holmes wins her heart too. The Holmes family reconciliation and Eurus is in therapy instead of being a multi-killer. Baker Street Boys Team continues while Baker Street Girls Team gives them a run for their money. Mycroft asks Lady Smallwood out himself to her astonishment and internal squealing. Mummy Holmes gets more grandkids than she could’ve imagined. And basically, everyone walks happily into the sunset. The End. Please note, some things can obviously be modified.  -  @mychakk (Prompt fill - Turn Right by sunken_standard)

AU: Molly runs away from home when her parents try to arrange a marriage for her. She wants to pursue a life that involves science and marry for love if she ever gets married at all. She meets Sherlock, who is being pressured by his family to marry a nice girl they found for him who loves science as much as he does. It will be interesting when they figure it out.  -  @shadowyqueenbeard

AU. Instead of dying, Mary actually does hide from Sherlock and John effectively and they don’t find her. Still wracked by guilt and worried he’ll never see her again, John still imagines her in his mind and Sherlock still goes after Culverton Smith … possibly both to save John and because maybe Smith knows something about where Mary went? To solve the mystery and bring Mary home, Sherlock and Molly team up.  -  @rooneykmara

Uni!lock Sally wakes Molly at 2 am because her junkie boyfriend of dorm 221b is streaking across campus calling her name, so she better stop denying that she’s his girlfriend.  -  @escaily

To cover her butt during New Year’s Eurus lies and tells mummy that Sherlock has a wife, and Mycroft borrows her ‘Sherlock’s wife’ excuse whenever he wants to avoid sticky topics during holidays. The lie gets bigger the more Sherlock avoids family meetings. Until December when Sherlock finds out he’s married to a forensic (E), sex addicted(E), petite (E), intelligent (M), very forgiving (M) paragon of virtue (M). Now he needs to find a stranger that fits the description before Christmas.  -  @escaily

Rock Royalty AU. That AU in which Mary drags Molly into an edgy rock concert of her favorite band “Baker Street Boys” even though everybody and their mother knows that indie acoustics and hippie music is Molly’s thing. Enter Sherlock Holmes lead band member, (the type of Rock Star that sings ‘Wanted Dead or Alive’ while high as a kite) famous for his electric violin solos, addict past and cold attitude. He tries deducing the girl less likely to throw herself at him out of all the fans and finding that one concert goer who doesn’t get turned on by his music. Turns out that Molly the ‘I-said-I’m-not-a-groupie’ pathologist in training is actually an interesting girl when she’s not covering her ears, even if Sherlock needs to educate her on the finger points of violin appreciation. Basically a fic where the Rockstar wants to turn this hater into a fan but actually ends up falling for her instead.  -   @escaily

The Do Over/ Time Travel Sherlolly fic that I NEED. Let’s pretend that a destroyed Molly went to sleep the night of the infamous phone call wishing she could do it all over again, and overnight she wakes up back in Season 1 first ep. If you could get a do over, erase all the bad things that have ever happened with the person you’ve always loved, even if it meant never having the good, would you do it? Especially if said person just broke your trust over the phone. The moment with the riding crop, all the late nights at the morgue, chose to avoid that awful Christmas party (showed up with a boring date), change shifts the day ‘Jim from IT’ asked her out and not offer her help when Sherlock needed to fake his death. Of course, fate still keeps throwing her together with Sherlock no matter what she tries. “You’re not MY Sherlock, you wouldn’t understand,” she whispered at last. “And what did your version of me have that I don’t?” “Many things, I know you think you can’t be a better person, but my Sherlock was.” Or something around those lines where slightly-younger Sherlock feels jealous of TFP Sherlock, because in any version of history Sherlock will always end up falling in love with Molly and she’s already so attuned to his quirks that he resents the ‘other him’ for having so much time with her.  -  @escaily

Crossovers/Works set in or inspired by another specific fictional universe (ie Potter!lock)

I’d really like to see a Daemon (from the His Dark Materials books by Philip Pullman) version of Series 3/TAB/Series 4 (any or all of those), especially when it comes to the ILY scene.  -  Kay

iZombie!Sherlock – Think of this, if Sherlock gets infected we have: 1) Sherlock with white hair 2) Sherlock getting brains from Molly “for experiments” 3) Sherlock getting different attitudes (hippie brain = hippie!Sherlock) 4) Paler than normal pale Sherlock 5) Sherlock with red bloodshot eyes.   Also:  If Molly Hooper gets infected, it’s like she’s the Liv Moore of Barts.  Lestrade as Clive (and relieved to be not only depending on Sherlock to solve crimes).  Sherlock deduces Molly’s hair color and tan (because Molly can’t show up to work with white hair, even whiter skin color, and very slow pulse rate).  Major asshole Boss being the one shipping tainted Utopium to Britain.  -  The Silent Fangirl

Superwholock!Sherlolly  -  The Silent Fangirl

Doctor Who!Sherlock - Molly Hooper as a companion  -  The Silent Fangirl

Me Before You!Sherlock  -  The Silent Fangirl

Molly Hooper as “Mary Reilly”.  -  @darnedchild

Dracula!lock, but maybe mix it up just a little.  Sherlock as the object of Dracula’s affections (Mina) and/or Molly as the vampire expert (Van Helsing)?  - @darnedchild

Sherlock and Lady Molly of Scotland Yard.  Molly Hooper as Lady Molly from “Lady Molly of Scotland Yard” with her crime solving partner Mary (Morstan).  (Note from Mod -   “Lady Molly of Scotland Yard” used to be available via BBC Radio 4 Extra on demand, you may still be able to find it online somewhere.)  -  @lullikiish

A Hades and Persephone AU with Molly as female Hades (the unrequited love at first, the proximity with death) and Sherlock as a male Persephone (the curiosity, the lack of eating).  Irene would be a great Poseidon (the chaos provided by the ocean, the sailor knots).  As for John, he would be a great Hermes!  -  Kay

Gimme “The Full Monty”, baby. Surely someone can find a reason to have Sherlock, John, and Greg get their kits off? Or Molly, Mary, and Sally? Mrs H could give professional pointers and tips to whomever you’re planning to get starkers.  -  Anonymous

A Sherlolly version of “It’s A Wonderful Life”. Sherlock gets to see what his loved ones’ lives would be like if he never existed, realizing the positive impact he had on them when he was alive.  -  @simplyshelbs16xoxo  (Prompt fill - Strange, Isn’t It? by SimplyShelbs16)

Something similar to “The Ransom of Red Chief”, only in this version the kidnappers have figured out that Molly Hooper is a pressure point for Sherlock Holmes. They take her captive, intending to blackmail Sherlock or hold Molly for ransom; but Molly Hooper is having none of that nonsense. While Sherlock works to save her, Molly finds ways to torment, injure, and outwit her captors. Whether she escapes on her own, finds a way to let Sherlock and John know where she’s at, or ends up driving her kidnappers crazy to the point that they give up and send her back is up to the author. Could go humorous or dark very easily.  -  Anonymous

Clique/Sherlock Crossover - After the events of TFP, Molly Hooper (who is actually Jude McDermid) decides to go back to Edinburgh, broken-hearted & bound to continue the “family business” after years of running away from it. Gone is her long hair & colorful jumpers: she completely changed her look & have every information about Molly Hooper destroyed. Years passed, she forms the Solasta Women’s Initiative, much to her brother’s delight, until a horrific event brings Sherlock Holmes back into her world again. It’s more of a Sherlolly/Judelock mash-up where Sherlock wants to know why she left, who she really is, & how he’s still madly in love with her. Molly/Jude is more like she’s finally embracing the life she thought she never wanted, until she realizes that she can never forget the love she has for Sherlock. Can she be Jude & love him as well? Can Sherlock accept her true reality, or does he only love her as Molly & not Jude. Throw in a nice mystery/thriller plot too! Oh yeah Mycroft, who knew Molly is Jude from the beginning but decided to let Sherlock figure it out on his own, is determined to stop this union at all cost. Pls include all the girls & guys in Clique, especially Holly since she’s a badass off to take down Jude and her “girls” no matter what! It’s a crazy plot but if you’ve seen the 1st 2 episodes of Clique, it screams for a Sherlolly crossover fic! Thanks for reading this uber-long fic prompt!  -  @violetjersey

A reversed Potter!lolly with Sherlock being the Muggle-born, while Molly’s the pureblood witch (the likes of Luna Lovegood). Sherlolly, of course.  -  @mychakk

Agatha Christie’s “And Then There Were None” – because I always think of the movies when I see Mizjoely’s U.N. Owen tag.  -  @darnedchild

We know Molly can keep other people’s secrets. Maybe Molly has a few secrets of her own, i.e. her very secret collection of FWBs. Because honestly, you think she would just sit alone in her home every night, year after year, quietly pining for a romantic relationship with Sherlock? And what a surprise when Sherlock and their friends find out…maybe at Sherlock and Molly’s wedding? Crossover possibilities depend on FWBs selected…Q (James Bond), Loki (Avengers), Doctor Strange, etc.  -  @rubyred7531

Crack!fic based on an episode of “Friends”. Sherlock marries Janine. (Maybe for a case, or because Molly is still engaged to Tom.) Unfortunately, he says Molly’s name during his wedding vows …  -  @shadowyqueenbeard

“Two Mules for Sister Sara”, but with undercover Father Sherlock (or Brother Sherlock if you want to go that way). You could go with the original western cowboy period or make it modern. You can keep it PG -or- you could go for that priest kink M/E rating.  -  @darnedchild

Reverse “Runaway Bride” AU, where Sherlock is getting married to Janine and Molly to Tom at some venue with space for lots of simultaneous events. Then they both get dumped in the altar. And it’s a meet cute of two people commiserating about how annoying it is to be the jilted ‘acceptable’ fiance in a rom com.  -  @escaily

Period pieces/TAB

Victorian “Hooper”lock—Molly in disguise as “Hooper” the man, and they work together on a case and sparks fly. They flirt and all, and Sherlock can’t figure out right away that she’s a woman, and I think it might not even bother him that much.  -  @lullikiish

TABverse – After the whole bride thing Molly Hooper asks Sherlock to help her create a new Alias for herself, something ‘detective proof’. The thing is that Sherlock doesn’t approve of the nurse Alias, or shopkeeper, or the governess one, or the maid costume (brothel girl disguise almost kills him). For Sherlock her new persona will just have to be the wife of someone with status, someone like him.  -  @escaily

Song fic/Inspired by lyrics

Song Fic:  Adele’s “Water Under the Bridge”  -  @darnedchild  (Prompt fill - Water Under The Bridge by SimplyShelbs16)

Song Fic:  … I would love something based on “Samson” by Regina Spektor please.  -  @chelle812

Song Fic:  Katy Perry’s “Unconditionally”  -  @darnedchild

Song Fic:  Texas’ “I’ll See It Through”  -  @darnedchild  (Prompt fill - And I’ll See It Through by darnedchild)

Song Fic:  … I’ve got a quote from a song.  “You only know you love her when you let her go.”  (Note from Mod - The song appears to be Passenger’s “Let Her Go”)  -  @flowerstar5  (Prompt fill - Turn Right by sunken_standard)

Song Fic: Angst.  Based on the ABBA song “Knowing Me, Knowing You”.   Sherlock and Molly have tried to have a serious relationship, but it just didn’t work out.  -  @shadowyqueenbeard

Song Fic: 8 Seconds “Kiss You”  -  @shadowyqueenbeard

OT3/Sherlock, Molly, and ?

A case involving wine and stolen spatulas leads to Mycroft Holmes being attracted to Molly Hooper. Too bad Molly’s had enough of the Holmeses, and Sherlock mooning over her really isn’t helping. (Molly Hooper/Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes)  -  The Silent Fangirl

Molly wants to meet The Woman. Irene and Sherlock are still friends, and Molly is curious. Much to everyone’s surprise, Molly and Irene hit it off fairly quickly. (Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper/Irene Adler)  -   Anonymous

When Sherlock is injured and stuck in a cast up to his thigh, Mary and Molly find out JUST how grumpy he can get. They end up putting him by a window with binoculars, his pain medication, snacks, juice and his mobile. What happens next?  (Molly Hooper/Sherlock Holmes/Mary (Morstan)Watson)  -  @penaltywaltz

[solarine]

Why do we still need feminism?

To everyone wondering why those loud, obnoxious feminists are still protesting today: American women have had mostly-equal rights for less than 40 years out of the entire recorded history of the Western world, thanks to loud, obnoxious feminists like the ones marching and protesting in cities across the US as I type this. There is currently a considerable and disturbing push by some conservative/religious groups to revert some of our hard-fought rights and freedoms to what they were back when we were considered property more than people.

To outline some of the injustices American women face, in case you're wondering what's wrong with our current set of rights and freedoms:

1 in 5 women will be sexually assaulted or raped during her lifetime. Of those, fewer than 1/3 are reported to police.

For every 1000 women who are raped by men, 994 of the men who rape them will never see the inside of a jail cell for that crime.

As of 2014, US police departments had 400,000 untested rape kits sitting around, gathering dust.

31 US states allow a rapist to sue for custody of a child conceived during that rape, and most of those states will not allow the mother to give the child up for adoption unless the rapist father is notified and gives consent. There are currently multiple bills in state senates which would also prevent a woman from aborting a child conceived by rape unless the father gives consent.

It is still an extremely common tactic for a rape trial to focus not on the rapist's crime, but on the entire sexual history of the female victim, what she was wearing, who she was with, whether or not she had been drinking, and often trying to coerce her into admitting it was consensual all along and she's just trying to save her reputation by calling it rape.

Rape is the only crime for which arguing that the temptation was too clear and obvious to resist is treated as an admissible and sometimes clearing defense.

1 in 3 women will experience domestic violence. 1 in 4 women will experience *severe* domestic violence.

As of 2014, 38 million US women had experienced domestic partner violence.

Also as of 2014, 4.77 million US women experience domestic partner violence every year.

Between 2001 and 2013, more than twice as many women were murdered by their male romantic partners than there were soldiers killed in our overseas war efforts.

Disabled women are 40% more likely to experience domestic violence than normally-abled women, and it's more likely to be severe violence.

Marital rape has only been illegal in all 50 states since 1993. Many states still have exceptions to the law, limit the degree of assault it can be considered as, and/or do not prosecute it as seriously as other rape and assault.

Most domestic abuse is never prosecuted.

Abused women lose a collective 8 million days of paid work every year directly as a result of their abuse.

The leading cause of death among pregnant women is being murdered by the father of their child.

The US has the highest maternal mortality in the developed world.

The US is one of two countries in the entire world without paid maternity leave, the other being Papua New Guinea.

Right-to-work states routinely overlook the firing and laying-off of pregnant women because employers abuse the loophole of not explicitly stating that as the reason.

Pregnant women are routinely denied even minor accommodations by employers, such as carrying a water bottle or being allowed to use the restroom more than once every four hours.

Access to contraception is still a hotly-debated subject, and a woman's employer can legally dictate her reproductive choices based on THEIR religious beliefs.

The most effective contraception methods are an entire month's wages for a woman earning minimum wage and who has no access to insurance.

Hormonal contraception has significant and sometimes fatal side-effects that were only approved because the testing was done on impoverished minorities, and it was assumed this would be the primary market for hormonal contraception.

Access to abortion is being increasingly restricted in many states, which has seen a corresponding rise in maternal mortality, infant mortality, and suicide by pregnant women.

Women accessing health care reproductive health clinics such as Planned Parenthood frequently face angry and even violent protestors.

Fake "crisis pregnancy centers" are legal in many states. These are not bound by HIPAA laws and often put their duped patients in actual physical danger.

A Texas anti-abortion group with 30,000 members infiltrated pro-choice groups and hatched a scheme to literally kidnap pregnant women by offering them rides to Planned Parenthood and holding them captive until they'd missed their appointment and/or agreed not to abort. None of them got into any legal trouble for suggesting this.

It is legal in some states for the state to keep a brain-dead pregnant woman on life support indefinitely, regardless of her wishes, her family's wishes, and the stage of pregnancy.

Women are more than twice as likely to die of a heart attack than men are, for the sole reason that their symptoms aren't taken seriously.

Obese women, especially minorities, frequently go without adequate care or any care at all in all levels of medical care, from the general practitioner's office to the emergency room.

35% of single mothers live at or below the poverty line, even though most of them have full-time jobs.

68% of the elderly poor are women.

60% of minimum-wage workers are women.

More than 70% of those living at or below the poverty line are women and children.

There is no affordable child care. A single mother working at a full-time minimum wage job is likely to spend half her income on day care. This forces her to either drop out of the workforce entirely and take government benefits, or to take a second job and essentially never see her own child.

The gender wage gap is real. At all levels of employment in all industries, women are frequently paid less than their male coworkers despite having the same experience, the same seniority, and the same education.

Sexism is rampant in many industries, particularly STEM and manual labor. This leads to less participation by women who feel they will receive unfair treatment from employers and coworkers alike.

The number of women earning degrees in computing-based STEM fields has dropped from 37% to 18% since the 1980s. This was largely due to the creation of hierarchies, hiring practices, and social networking in the 1990s that explicitly favoured men.

Female video game developers routinely receive gender-based harassment online, with an entire socio-political movement of angry young men (GamerGate) emerging because a female game developer was given what they perceived to be an unfairly-high rating on her game by a journalist with whom she subsequently entered into a relationship.

Female celebrities routinely deal with dangerous stalkers, with a number of them being assaulted and/or murdered by such, and our cultural reaction is to tell them that's what they get for being famous. Meanwhile, John Lennon's killer has been in prison since 1980 and is one of the most widely reviled men in America.

Women online in any capacity routinely receive gender-based harassment, demeaning comments, and unsolicited photos of male genitalia.

Women on dating sites frequently receive so much harassment that they are forced to delete their profiles.

The cultural reaction to nude/topless photos of any woman being stolen and posted online is that she got what she deserved for taking them in the first place. Revenge porn (selling nudes/sex tapes of your ex to shame them and ruin their lives/careers by sending links to their family and coworkers) is legal in most states, with females comprising almost 100% of victims. Very little legal recourse exists for victims.

Filming yourself having sex with a woman without her knowledge and selling the video to a porn site is not only legal, but is a popular category amongst viewers.

Womens' Studies is the most frequent butt of every joke made about "useless" college degrees.

Career fields that are high-paying, high prestige, and male-dominated lose their prestige and wages as more women enter the field. This is an observable and frequently repeated trend, and it generally only takes 5-10 years from the time when the number of women in the field exceeds 15-20%.

2017 marks the first year EVER that women have exceeded 20% representation in the Senate, and 19% in the House. Only four are minorities, with three newcomers joining Mazie Hirono, who had been only the second minority woman to ever sit on the Senate until the Nov. 2016 election cycle.

The first and only female Native American federal judge was appointed in 2014. The first white female federal judge was appointed in 1933, the first black female federal judge was appointed in 1966, and the first Asian female federal judge was appointed in 2010. Despite these minor gains, 73% of state and federal judges are still male.

-----

This seems like an exhaustive list, doesn't it? Imagine how exhausting it is to be living it and having to explain it nearly 100 years after the Suffragettes were cruelly derided in editorials, comments, and assaulted on the streets over wanting something to be done about many of these very same issues.

[chiefbeck]

Chapter 1: How and Why?

I know the first thing that must come to a person’s mind. How in the world can someone who was the all-American boy next door, who served in the military as a Navy SEAL for 20 years, who fought in three wars and is a highly decorated soldier, be transgender? Of course, there are theories; there are theories with every paradox of life. How can someone who fits the ultimate definition of being a man so completely really be a woman on the inside? Did I snap under the pressure of combat? Am I looking for some new kind of sexual gratification? Is this my way of seeking attention that I no longer get from earning military accolades? Was I molested or beaten as a child? The answer to all of these questions is a resounding NO!

The saying goes that truth is stranger than fiction, but it doesn’t apply in this case. I am transgender because that is what I have always been. Long before anyone really knew the name Kristin Beck, long before the battlefields, and long before the playing fields of college and high school, I was who I am. There was no magic moment that flipped a switch within me; there was no traumatic experience, and there was no childhood sexual abuse that can explain this away. There is just the fact that from an early age I identified as being female, and though some might dismiss it as a phase, I think after forty some odd years we can dismiss that notion.

Being a female trapped in a male body is a part of me, but it is not all of me. It has caused me grief and joy and has propelled me in ways that even I probably cannot imagine. I have seen death up close, and now I find that every day I have the need to live life fully. There is also a deep desire to live a good life and leave something greater than myself upon my departure from this world. But more importantly, there is the need to live my life in truth and to seek harmony between who I am and my place in the world. After so many years of wearing the masks, I grew weary. I was finally able to muster enough courage to shed the armor, lay down the walls and say, “Here I am world; this is the real me.”

I am still working through my SEAL life, and am dismantling the armor and disguises that were protecting me from my feelings and vulnerability. The heavy protection of isolation and anger that kept me safe throughout my lifetime is being stripped away, and I am finding a peace of my own. I was living as a man, and now, I am living my new life as a

woman. More accurately, I am living with my two spirits working in unison and free at last.

That may be hard to understand. People are not used to thinking in terms of being two spirited. You may believe some of this or none of it, either way, that’s cool. I am going to remain open-minded and do some study. I hope to keep an open mind because there was a time when the Catholic Church burned people at the stake for the rotations of the planets and arguments over the trinity; we all have a lot to learn.

There was a time on Earth, before religion, when people lived in harmony with the planet and with their own spirits. People had a general feeling that there was more, and there was a “greater” presence that started this whole thing called life. They didn’t know what it was, and they had many names for this unknown. During these times, Shamans and elders would advise and rule the tribes. Shamans because they had a deeper understanding of the energy around them and gave advice that turned out mostly true. The Elders ruled because they had experience and learned from these experiences creating wisdom.

There were many Shamans who could live as “two-spirit.” They had the connections and energies of male and female. They were revered because of their sensitivity to the men and women of the tribe and able to see things and have compassions that would normally be missed.

Two-Spirit people today are labeled as transgender and are no longer held in reverence, but held in disdain. Somewhere along the line, they went from being revered to being ridiculed. Instead of being held in high esteem, they became the carnival sideshow freaks for all the world to point and snicker at or to recoil in disgust. They walk among us every day.

That is something that is very curious to me. I have questions about why such a change in beliefs and respect for the earth and man has alluded us in this modern day of abuse, greed, and fear. I am on my journey and hope to learn a few more things while I am here; I hope more people become open to the possibilities beyond.

I am not all male, and I am not fully a woman. I am a bit of both. Gender is not one or the other; I don’t think there has ever been one perfect 100% man nor has there ever been a 100% woman. It is all a gradient between the two depending on many factors: genetic makeup, upbringing,

social influence and internal dialogs. I doubt science will ever determine exactly what makes a transgender person transgender, but mine is not to wonder why, but only to eat, sleep, and be true to myself and the world around me. I have both genders working very strong within me; I am working on my female spirit. This new life is right for me and is making me whole.

This new focus in life is not about sexual conquests, which is the default argument of many. My life is not about being some kind of carnival sideshow freak to amaze or to mock. My life is a quest to bring the two parts of me together and to live in harmony. There are no torrid sex scenes to discuss, and I refuse to sensationalize my life. Though popular media might make it look that way, I am not doing anything new.

Being transgender is not something I decided on because my mind had nothing better to occupy itself with one lazy summer afternoon. I have always been transgender, from the day I took my first breath, perhaps even before that. It’s the age old argument of nature versus nurture. I personally believe being transgender is something you are born with, that you have no control over; it is part of your DNA or something, like being left handed. And just like you can teach a left handed person to do things right handed, like they did in the middle ages when they would torture left handed people for being in league with the devil, you can teach a transgender girl (one that looks outwardly male), to be masculine.

Many who fall under the category choose not to make it known and spend their entire lives denying it, fighting it to the bitter end. They might have lived a successful life, but there will always be the part of them that wonders “what if?” They will always be curious of what joys they missed out on just so they could conform to what the world around them wanted them to be.

I fought it for 40 plus years, pushed it down, disguised it and tried to make it go away to never surface again. But you cannot deny who you are, and finding that I am not alone has helped. One of the issues many transgender people have is the unending guilt that you are totally unique, and you are alone. You feel like there is no one in the world that thinks like you think or feels like you feel. There is a built in isolation with that kind of thinking. Today with the many published books, the internet and social media, there is a growing number of people getting together and trading ideas and helping each other; I was a child of the 70s, and those things

didn’t exist back then, so I lived in my isolation as many others did back in those days. Today you see a few brave children enter into the spotlight and stake their claim that they are not what their body suggest. They are the lucky ones. Their parents are understanding, and though they face adversity, they are at least doing it truthfully and with loving parents supporting them.

But being transgender is not something new. It is not even something that came out in the past few generations. There have been transgender people in history dating back to caveman days. You can see evidence in sculptures and ancient artifacts. The coolest one I know about is Queen Hatshepsut, the Egyptian pharaoh who was female at birth, but ruled as a man. She wore a fake beard and lived a man’s life. One of the most amazing stories is that of Albert Cashier, born Jennie Hodgers, who fought in the American Civil War and voted many years before universal suffrage. He lived a full life as a quiet man; there were a few times he was discovered to be female, but those around him kept the secret. There are many stories that are out there if you are willing to dig.

Now here is my story to add to the mix.

Growing up in the 60s and 70s, there was no outlet for a person who was transgender; there was barely even a word to describe a person who was born one gender but identified as the other. It was classified as a mental disorder. Why would anyone ever want to be the opposite gender? To this day I ask the same question, why? I have the question posed at me, why did you “choose” to do this. Seriously? Who would choose to be ridiculed, prejudiced, beaten up and tortured on purpose? Unless, being transgender was something that is so deep that we MUST do this? I didn’t choose to be transgender any more than I chose to be American. I was born this way, and I am equally proud to be both. I served my time in the military and was willing to die for all the red, white, and blue stands for. Now that I am retired from the military, now that there are no more medals for me to earn or ribbons to be pinned upon my uniform, I will live for the part of me that I denied for a lifetime.

As I was saying, in the 70s and prior we had no words and no support groups. When I was young there were words like "transvestite" which were used to slander, not to define, and then there were all the derogatory words: freak, weirdo, pervert and worse. Even today people misunderstand what transgender really means. Even among the LGB

community, Transgender is misunderstood. The LGB community is the Lesbian, Gay and Bisexual world. They just recently have allowed Transgender people to join them in their pursuit of equality. Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell and many other examples still exist, and since it effects the transgender community, the LGB group allowed us to tag along and fortify their numbers.

The issue is that transgender has nothing to do with sexual orientation. It is not about being gay or lesbian or bisexual. Oddly enough, sexual preference doesn’t enter the mix. There are transgender lesbians, and transgender gays, and transgender heterosexuals. Most transgender people stay with the sexual preference they had their entire lives. If a person identifies as a transsexual woman and has been attracted to women their entire life, they don’t suddenly lose that attraction just because they transition. I was married and have been with a few women. My sexuality has not changed from my SEAL days because being a woman has nothing to do with who I am attracted to. Being transgender is not an excuse or a cover for being gay. In fact, I would suspect that many gay men would not be attracted to a transgender woman. Sexual orientation and gender identity work separately from each other even though it is somewhat difficult to remove gender from sexuality.

Transgender is something that is deep within a person. It is a wide umbrella, and it is different for everyone who identifies as such and with different intensities. No one is the same, but many of us have similar stories.

OoO

If not me, then who? And if not now, then when? These are questions I ask myself every day.

We must all have courage enough to share our stories and to change things that are wrong. That is what I have tried to do my whole life whenever and wherever it was possible.

I lived my life in the military as a Navy SEAL, defending as best I could FREEDOM and EQUALITY in nations around the world. I came home after twenty years in the SEALs and retired. I didn’t find the freedom and equality that I so desperately fought for in my own country so now I find that I need to make a stand here in my own country where we

often take such things for granted. If we are not all free, then none are free.

We are not all equal; we are not all free; we are not all treated with dignity and respect. There are many people that live in the shadows, afraid and never treated as equals, hiding, and that is not what I risked my life for.

There are so many who live in privilege: gender privilege, racial privilege, income privilege, and many other divisions within the system. I have to wonder; why do we let this persist? When so many have died for the freedoms of those left to live, why would we stand by when there is any inequality. The pursuit of happiness is not just for the gender conforming white male who never struggled with his gender identity or heterosexual sexual orientation.

Many people have no idea this privilege exists in our country. Ask nearly any African American about whether or not privilege, equality and acceptance exist in America; ask any transgender person or someone from the LGB community the same thing, and you will hear the truth. Equality is something that may exist on paper, that may even be made law, but until it is something that is practiced it will remain an unrealized fantasy. That is a travesty that I will fight against.

America is a place of constant strife between privileged and the down trodden; many people live it every day and don’t even recognize that it is going on. Perhaps I have the advantage because I have seen places in the world where this struggle is taken to further extremes and know where America is heading. Wake up. I have seen this, and I want to be a part of changing that for the better. Understanding that the struggle exists and acting to correct this flaw is not the same thing. If we just recognize that an injustice exists but do nothing, we are allowing our own demise as a country to march forward. Each American needs to stand up and be counted. We must raise our voices in unison and say “that is it. We have had enough; inequality can’t stand or we shall fall together.”

Right now, in congress they are debating about LGBT fairness in the workplace and fair housing for LGBT people. Why does this even need to be debated? Are we not human? Are we not all equal under the document that governs us? Have we learned nothing from the civil rights movement of the 60s?

I invite you to walk a mile in my shoes and see if civil rights and equality are a problem in America.

If not me, then who?

I say to hell with it; I came out. I am in the public eye. I am going to do what I’ve always done, defend those who cannot fend for themselves.

I know that all sounds noble and great, but that is not all my life is about. I realize my limitations. I am not that noble; I have selfish ambitions. I am defending and fighting for my own rights as well as others, but at the same time, I am also finding a peace within myself. That is just another paradox that I live with. I am transgender, or maybe I have no gender. Perhaps I am just a retired Navy SEAL who was always a woman in disguise. I don’t have all the answers yet, but I am living free and figuring it out. That is not only my journey but it is also my right.

This new journey as a woman is letting me begin to like and appreciate myself for who I really am. It is letting me not hold prejudice against myself. This sounds odd that I would have a prejudice or a dislike “against” myself? But it is the truth, and it may be true of many people. It is something that I was raised with. The American culture has taught me to hate and distrust those that are different, and I am the one who is different, or so it seems. I don’t know; I don’t claim to have all the answers. I know that I have never found a peace in myself; there have been times when I hated myself and punished myself for not being what people expected me to be or for not being “normal” and like everyone else. Many of us live this way; it is the lie that we have been fed our entire lives, but we keep going back for seconds. Thinking that there is such a thing as “normal” is wrong, and society as a whole needs to figure this out and mature past this problem.

Most of the problems are due to how we treat one another and ourselves. I was taught at an early age that I was different. I was told that I was not good enough, that I was imperfect. It was a message I got from my parents, from my siblings, and from teachers. I took criticism the wrong way; I took it as a personal attack. Sometimes it propelled me to reach new heights, but other times it tore me down and made me feel like my accomplishments didn’t add up to anything special. I felt like I was always the underdog and fighting to just be seen and treated as an equal.

For me, that kind of thinking started when I was a kid. For people who use the negative to motivate themselves, the thinking starts in grade school, maybe a little earlier. We need to change how we educate our future generations, to teach them how to think in healthy ways. We need to educate and raise the next generation of youth with compassion and an understanding that we are all different in some way, but equal; that we all have the ability to be good and have the potential to be great. WE ARE ALL ONE and of the same earth; we walk on the same dirt, and breathe the same air.

There is a need to teach kindness and compassion, but also a need to teach children how to develop inner peace and a self-love for our own diversity instead of ridicule and prejudice. If we educate our future generations in this way, then they will grow to promote this same peace within their community that will spread from family to neighborhood to city to state and beyond. Who knows, it may finally bring peace to a world full of strife and conflict.

Many times in the past I have bought into a system that teaches there is a hierarchy based on an unseen caste system, but I have denounced it, and I will continue to strive for equality and justice. Will you?