#women’s anger is always seen as wrong and unacceptable as if it’s being expressed in the wrong way

[kingofmyborrowedheart]

It’s just that “Better Than Revenge” is messy and angry, but also so very human and that’s okay. It’s disappointing to me that she felt the need to rewrite her own history on an album about saying exactly what you feel and water down her very human feelings she once had as a teenager. Her anger should be allowed to exist even though the target of it was misplaced, which was purely a product of society seeing that women were led to see each other as competition when it came to romance. She’s clearly shown that she’s changed her thinking from when she originally penned the song over a decade ago with what she said about “august” during the Long Pond Sessions and all of her work since Speak Now.

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Hello lovelyyy! Could i request a Billy imagine? He makes fun of the reader after hooking up with her at a party and she just playa along for the sake of his reputation but it hurts her a lot. He finds her and apologizes and its all really angsty with a happy ending??✨

Facades - B. Hargrove

I love this req so so so so so so much and I am so sorry I took so long to complete it! If you hate it then I am so so sorry and I hope you let me know so i can send you pictures of baby otters to apologise!

I really hope you like it!!

TW: THIS STORY CONTAINS MENTIONS OF BULLYING, SEXUAL REFERENCES, SWEARING, BRIEF ALLUSIONS TO DOMESTIC VIOLENCE / PARENTAL ABUSE, BILLY BEING A BIT OF A MYSOGINISTIC PRAT, Y/N STANDING UP FOR THE LITTLE PEEPS AND BEING A QUEEN AND MENTIONS OF NON-CONSENSUAL STARING AT INTIMATE BODY PARTS.

IF THIS CONTENT CAN POTENTIALLY TRIGGER YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READ. YOUR OWN MENBTAL AND PHSYICAL HEALTH IS IMPORTANT, SO PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. MY INBOX IS ALWAYS OPEN.

Original Story by defensive_sarcasm17.

Please do not copy, reproduce or repost without credit or in a manner that removes my username, and/or ownership from the work. Stealing is not cool, my loves.

Billy Hargrove was an asshole.

Not just your regular asshole, but the kind that knew he was an asshole and allowed his severe longing for attention to control his every action. Whether positive or negative attention, he craved it; he reveled in it.

He knew it was wrong, but simply knowing he was on somebody’s mind in any way filled him with a sense of pride. It disgusted him but the thrill was far too addictive.

And there was sweet Y/N. Anybody could tell that she didn’t fit in. She walked - no, she strut - to the beat of her own drum. The minute he arrived she caught his attention. He had never before witnessed how somebody could be so unique and beautiful, yet remain on the outside. She was a fascinating creature and he hadn’t before felt such an intense desire to get to know somebody.

She was so different to so many people, both in personality and appearance, yet she took care to avoid bringing others down. Her first interaction with him was her reprimanding him for speaking ill of another girl in their grade with his friends. She had overheard the conversation that occurred near to her locker and made sure to discuss it with him away from his friends.

The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass him and herself, but she also needed to tell him that his behaviour was unacceptable. He made more of an effort to watch his tongue after that, but old habits die hard and he quickly resorted back to being an ill-mannered asshole.

Just... never to her.

Nevertheless, he was still drawn to her. Their relationship evolved, a few sneaky kisses, hanging out outside of the arcade, or the cinema, or even the one time that Billy was eating at the diner and Y/N took a seat across from him just to babble about some new thing she was doing. If she was anybody else, Billy would have told her to take a hike, but instead, he clung to every word she told.

What Y/N didn’t know, though, was that she had become a butt of some jokes amongst Billy’s friends. Her kind, bubbly personality, her eyes that were often wide in energetic glee, the way she held a cheesy smile on her lips whenever she passed Billy in the hall.

To her it was normal. Never in her the lengths of her imagination would she conclude that the way she behaved would spur other people - people that she has grown alongside - to ridicule and tease her behind her back.

So she continued on in blissful nativity, even going as far as spending a night with the brutish boy - cuddled together, fumbling blindly amongst the rumpled sheets of her double bed. What started as a meaningless conversation at one of the many parties ended in one of the best nights that either had experienced.

She was entirely enamored by him, forming an intense and strong connection with the way he would present himself to her. She quite enjoyed the Jekyll within him.

The euphoria that he felt in her presence wouldn’t fade away like it normally did, even as he took his leave from her.

But when Billy was seen by Y/N’s neighbour, Angela, leaving her house early in the morn, the news circulated with the intensity of a swarm of angry locusts amongst the school.

And when Billy turned up to school late the next day, after a long and enjoyable farewell with Y/N and a quick stop at his own abode to change and freshen up, he was hounded the minute he approached his friends in the cafeteria.

“Please for the love of all that is cool in this world, tell me you didn’t hook up with freaky Y/N,” Tommy blurted in front of almost the entire cafeteria. The frown on Billy’s face did nothing to deter the boy, and from the corner of his eye he could see Y/N still as a statue as she felt most eyes turn towards her. Her tray was clasped between her fingers and she struggled to shift her features away from shock. “I mean, look at her,” he raised a hand as if he intended to whisper, yet the silence of the room ensured everybody heard, “You’d get more satisfaction out of a bean bag chair. She’s a dork.”

In that moment, he had two options: stick up for Y/N and confess to the growing admiration he harbored for her in front of everybody, and remove the cloud of admiration he received from many women and men alike; or do what billy does best-

“Please, I won’t put my dick just anywhere, willingly,” he scoffed, avoiding the burning gaze from the girl. His stormy blue eyes hid the flurry of his neurons, all of them working overtime to one up with an excuse, an answer, anything to avoid judgement from his peers. “She ended up with my jacket at the end of the night and there was no way I was letting her keep it.”

Tommy had an evil smirk on his face, turning his gaze towards Y/N and eyeing her in a grotesque way. His eyes linger on her chest for longer than she deemed comfortable before he snapped back to Billy. “Figured as much, but, we’ve all seen the way the freak looks at you. Even now, she can’t keep her eyes off of you.”

More sniggers erupted throughout the room. Y/N placed her tray down carefully, planning to leave the room as fast as she could, but she stopped when she saw Tommy crook a finger at her. He beckoned her closer, and she wanted nothing more than to shrink down to the size of a mouse.

“Is she dumb?” Tommy grunted as he nudged Billy’s shoulder with his own. “Come here, freaky!” Some chatter resumed in the room, but all eyes were still on her. She slowly stepped towards their table, crossing the few meters difference as slow as she could.

A chuckle left Billy, but he had forced it from his chest. His mind was going through many scenarios in which he could hurt Tommy, his favourite settling on stabbing him in the hand with one of the cafeteria forks followed by a severe pummeling to the face, but the eyes on him sent his adrenaline spiking. He felt horrible about speaking so badly of Y/N, but everybody had their attention focused on him. He was making people laugh, gasp, grumble even. He saw the girls at the table next to them get closer, winking at him and whispering along themselves about Y/N.

It was intoxicating.

“Tell us, freaky,” Tommy drawled, a sinister smirk forming in his thin and cracked lips. “You’re just obsessed with my man, Billy, here. Aren’t you?” Billy didn’t meet her eyes, and she knew - she just knew - that he didn’t enjoy what was happening, but she figured he would have the decency to stop it from continuing.

She had seen many sides of Billy, including the menacing, careless, boarding-on-sociopathic side, but she had managed to convince herself that she was immune to the abuse that tumbled from his lips. Y/N was already scolding herself inside her mind for thinking such discrepancies.

“Look at her, Billy. She can’t even speak!” Billy felt Tommy shove his shoulder with the palm of his hand, dropping the appendage quickly when he noticed the glare Billy shot him. His face paled slightly before the arrogance returned and the smirk resurfaced when his gaze shifted back to Y/N.

She hadn’t moved, her eyes locked on Billy. In those situations, Y/N knew her tear ducts were far to close to her eyelids, often spilling over at the any confrontation. She shied away from it, knowing that it often resulted in heartache and misfortune - but this time she felt anger. She just wasn’t quite sure if the anger was directed at herself or Billy.

Maybe both.

To add fuel to the flame, Billy turned his steely cerulean eyes towards her, raking them along the length of her body before he decided to open his mouth once again.

“Do i make you speechless?” his voice was sultry, warm, juxtaposing with the chill that ran down her spine at the audition.

It took her back to the previous night when he whispered sweet nothings against her skin. But she knew this was not the same Billy. This was the Billy that he would show to everyone. Everyone but her.

This was his Hyde, and she despised it. This was far from her Billy, but she knew how much his reputation meant to him.

He held her gaze strongly, but she could see something else in his expression. He was hoping that she would stay quiet, retreat from any chance of spilling his secret to the entire cafeteria, but part of his mind was telling him that he deserved her to speak the truth.

“I can’t help it, Billy,” she mumbled, hoping that a confession would make everything end. Her face was stoic, jaw set in a tight clench, only relenting to let the words slip out. To the rest of the cafeteria, it would portray as nerves and embarrassment, but to Billy - he knew that something had definitely changed in the usual mild-mannered, kind-hearted woman. Shame was running through her head at an alarming rate, mixed with embarrassment and cut with a growing anger. “I’ve had a crush on you for so long. It’s hard to deny how i feel about you.”

The words hit him like a speeding truck. Despite their activities, she had never once given him an indication for the depth of her feelings, nor had he for her. He had came to the conclusion that she simply knew of his emotions without the audition of them - he treated her so differently, he thought.

Nevertheless, he wanted to believe that her words were the truth, but the fire blazing in her beautiful eyes set his skin alight and had his heart pounding against his ribcage with guilt. She was Y/N. She was kind, she knew him. She knew how much he craved the satisfaction of being on somebody’s mind as if he could sense that he held somebody’s attention.

He knew she did it to help him, and he was somewhat grateful underneath the growing guilt.

“Wow,” Tommy breathed. His face held a look of astonishment, but once again he returned to his stock standard expression. “What an absolute spaz!”

Billy found himself nodding along to avoid the heat-filled stare, swallowing the lump of bile rising in his throat, “Why is it that all the dorks think they have a chance with me? I must have a wannabe-magnet that makes them all hot for me,” his cackle was filled with faux-malice, but the students were none the wiser. His thoughts were roaming around his head, moving faster than he was sure his brainwaves could manage.

He barely noticed when a feminine voice hit his ears and said something about Y/N needing to cool off before pouring a drink over her head. The red liquid was already beginning to stain her shirt and her hair was pushed to the front of her face.

“There you go,” Carol - the girl that had Tommy wrapped so tightly around her little finger that she has a circulation issue - had been the one to spill the liquid over her head. The smile on Carol’s face was dripping with sugar, but Billy knew that it was actually salt.“The red makes you look less like an ugly cow.”

A gasp left her lips, her eyes closing quickly. Y/N knew that the tip of the iceberg was approaching. Everybody has the point in their anger when they hit a point of hypersensitivity. Their body struggling to find a way to release the pent up friction in anyway, and it chooses to take the route of tears.

When she opened her eyes they had already began to blur with tears, yet she could still make out Billy’s figure, but she didn’t stay long enough to hear their taunts any longer. Her feet carried her to her car at a steady pace, where she finally allowed the emotion to escape in any way it pleased.

<><><><><>

He had expected to see her in their next class. Her presence was the only think that kept him from flipping out during their history class. Mr Daniels, the balding, narcissistic, middle-aged douche bag, had it out for him. Billy had often joked that it was because of the hair - pure jealousy, he said. The mere sight of Y/N’s profile managed to keep him occupied, his mind running wild with thoughts of the woman.

But when he had noticed she wasn’t there, all resolve had fled his body as his body fled the school. He had been trying to reach her since he had left, the pay phone on the corner of the block had his attention for nearly an hour, all of his change spent dialing her number over and over again with the same result.

The guilt was eating away at him, shame creeping up his spine.

He was an asshole. Plain and simple.

He had spent nearly his entire wallet on the pay phone, growing more frustrated by the minute. If she were home, she would answer. She always did. She was too kind to ignore a call. Hell, she even stayed on the line with telemarketers until they stopped talking for long enough for her to apologise and bid them goodbye.

The mere thought had him slumping his forehead against the receiver of the phone. His patience had worn thin and he cursed under his breath as he reefed his keys from his pocket and set off towards his blue camaro.

He needed to see her. The image of tears running down her cheek was burned into his mind, occupying all of his thoughts as his subconscious mapped out the route to her house. He had only been there once, maybe twice after dropping her home one afternoon, but he had the way etched into his hippocampus alongside many things about Y/N.

He had barely pulled in to the curb before he shut down the engine and stomped to her door.

His knuckles were rapping on the door before he knew it.

He knocked again, and once more. But no answer. Her car was parked in the drive way, he knew she was home. He picked up on the faint sound of music playing, some indie band that she was fond of. Not Billy’s taste.

“Y/N?” He called, fighting the lump that had swollen in his throat. “Y/N, please, I need to talk to you!”

The door opened slightly, just enough for Y/N to stare at him with innocent eyes full of shame before the chain stopped it from advancing further.

“I think you’ve said enough, Billy,” her voice sounded broken. Shattered even.

Her hair was still saturated, the T-Shirt she wore was stained, and he faintly recognized it as one of her favourite articles. A from was deeply carved into her features and he had to restrain his mind from thinking about how she adorable she looks with a crease between her brows and a dimple forming on her chin with growing anger.

“Darling, please let me in. I need to talk to you about something,” he flashed a charming smile. His pink lips contrasted perfectly against his sun-kissed skin. He was a delectable sight and he knew so; he made sure to dress to impress on the daily. He craved the looks of lust and jealousy. Like neon straight into his awaiting veins, it was his drug. Even the way Y/N glared up at him made his ego hum, but his heart ached with the disappointment she showed. “What happened in the cafeteria... it’ll never happen again. I just, I couldn’t-“

The door abruptly slammed in his face silencing his words in an instant. He froze, the sound shaking his spine and clearing his train of thought, only for the sound of a chain clicking and the door reopening capture his attention back.

There she stood. Hair drenched beyond all hope, clothes stained a bright red, throwing off the aesthetic of her outfit for the day. Her makeup was smudged more than he originally thought, as if she had been furiously scrubbing at her eyes with her hands. His heart ached, but he couldn’t deny the excitement in his nerves when she gave him her full attention.

Her hand reached out to grab his shirt, pulling him inside faster than he thought possible.

“Couldn’t what?” She snapped at him, venom coating her words in a way that made him recoil. “Couldn’t resist making fun of me? Couldn’t resist having every single pair of eyes on you? Couldn’t resist taking the piss out of me, just like you have done for months?”

She wasn’t meant to know about that, he thought. She was meant to be none the wiser. His face paled, eliciting a dry laugh from her chest. She felt the pressure of the forced omission in her stomach, the muscles aching from the furious sobs that racked her frame moments before.

“All of this time, I was trying to be your friend, Billy! And you!” She waved her hand at him, pointing at him in a manner dripping with unbridled anger. “You were playing me for the fool! I’ve been the butt of all jokes between you and your asshole friends since the minute I opened my big mouth to talk to you, haven’t I?”

He knew he was in the wrong. He knew that he should have punched Tommy in the face for even bringing anything up in front of her. His friend had noticed that he had abruptly halted the jokes surrounding the girl in question, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit the real reason why. He was falling head over heels, but he just didn’t know it yet.

Now he felt like his heart was ripping in two at the sight of her blotchy cheeks and red rimmed eyes, and he was the reason.

“It started as a joke, Y/N. I never meant to hurt you,” His voice was full of pain. Self-loathing. “Yeah, Tommy and I used to make fun of you for a while, but...” his words faded away.

The chuckle that left her lips this time was a hearty one, more like she was laughing at an actual joke than their humourless situation.

He didn’t realise how intently he was staring at her sock covered feet until he brought his eyes up to her face. She was genuinely laughing, but the tears that he didn’t realise were falling down her cheeks made his arms twitch from the need to hug her.

“My god,” she huffed, bringing her palms to her eyes and pressing hard, almost as if trying to hold her tears back. Her voice deceived her, and she sobbed for - what felt like - the millionth time that day. “I’m such an idiot.”

His hands connected with her shoulders and he brought her in against his chest. The hug was all he could do to comfort her, for he knew so little about his own emotions to even begin to understand another’s pain.

“Every time we spoke, every time we hung out together...” she pulled herself back from his chest. She couldn’t stand the contact that she craved so much, for she knew that it was unrequited. “Every time I kissed you.. last night. It was all bullshit!”

“Princess,” his own voice began to shake, feeling overwhelmed and anxious, “Every moment I have ever spent with you has been because I want to.”

She worked her hands into her now half-damp hair, pulling it back from her face in a tight grip, “Why? You and your friends needed some new material?” She released a heavy breath, her lips trembling. “Nancy told me about all of the jokes last week, yet I still went home with you last night. I still played along while the entire cafeteria stared me down because I know how much your reputation means to you. I know that I am at the very bottom of your priority list, Billy. Everything you do is for a purpose, and your purpose with me was just to make me feel worse than literally everybody in that school already does.”

He reached for her hand slowly, as if he were afraid she would pull away from him forever. He was never sure of his emotions, but this time, he knew that he would watch the world burn just to make her happy. He hated himself. He hated Tommy, and the girls that embarrassed her further. He hated Neil, and he hated his own narcissism. He hated the world for making such a beautiful soul so miserable, but he especially hated how he knew right from wrong and still chose the latter.

His fingers laced with hers, but her hand remained slack in his grip. It was better than nothing, he thought.

He cleared his throat, the organ feeling as stiff as a piece of cardboard, his mouth dry. The next words would be difficult, but they were honest. She deserved honesty.

“When I first met you, I didn’t know who you were, and I didn’t really want to. You were kind and thoughtful and you pulled me aside to chew me out for talking shit about some girl, but you did it where you knew my friends wouldn’t hear, just so you could spare my reputation. For the first little while, yeah, we made jokes. I made fun of the weird way you dress and the horrible music you listen to, and how you are the nicest person I have ever met, but the it stopped. The things you did stopped being funny to me, and the way I felt when I was around you changed completely.”

“Billy, what are you talking about?” Her tear-filled eyes wrinkles, her brows furrowing deeply.

“Tommy and the rest of the assholes, they noticed that I didn’t want to talk shit about you, or that I didn’t like when they would talk about you in the way - in the way we talk about other girls. Its hypocritical, but they dropped it. Until today. All because Angela couldn’t keep her big mouth shut.” He caught the look that she sent him, frowning slightly. “Sorry. Because Angela told them that I left here this morning, and they wouldn’t shut their stupid mouths the minute they saw me. I told them that I had nothing to say about you, but they wanted answers and I said shit that I never wanted to say.”

She watched him intently. Tommy had made a lot of comments about her over the years she had known him. The other guys had too, but she did notice that they started backing off lately. She hadn’t paid much attention to the fact, secretly hoping that they had begun to mature, but to think that Billy made them stop - well she didn’t know what to think.

“Why did you make them stop?” her mind was running faster than her mouth, but she still couldn’t put it together. If Billy was anybody else, she would maybe think that he reciprocated the feelings she expressed for him in the cafeteria but he isn’t - he is Billy Hargrove, and he doesn’t have feelings for anybody.

He laughed for a second. A soft, disbelief fueled cough. His eyes seemed to shine bright in the dull lighting of her house. Neither of them had realised the time that has passed, it was now nearing the afternoon. He looked down at her, his stomach full to the brim with an odd sensation.

“You really don’t know?” he seemed to have stepped closer to her, only slightly. His shoulders were slightly shrunken in. She shook her head softly, the crease returning to between her eyebrows as she thought. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

Never in his teenage life, had Billy feared rejection from a woman. His mother had given him all of the rejection he needed for a lifetime, but now, as he stared into Y/N’s eyes, his lungs seemed to constrict.

It was as if her world froze for a moment. Not only did Billy Hargrove, possibly her best and only friend, confess that he has feelings for her, but he said that he loved her. To say she was at a loss for words would be an understatement, but she stood in front of him gaping like a fish, mouth opening and closing every time she wanted to say something.

“I don’t mind if you don’t feel the same,” He spoke, slightly lower than when he confessed to her. He turned away from her slightly, releasing her hand and using it to rub the back of his neck. His skin felt like it was aflame and he started to sweat. “I just wanted to let you know, especially after what happened today. I-I’m sorry for the shit I said, and I am gonna kick Tommy’s ass for this. And I’m sorry that you had to say that stuff today. I know that you just said it to help me, and I appreciate it but you didn’t have to -”

His words fell short when he felt arms wrap around his waist. It was a soft, slow gesture, new, but not entirely uncomfortable. If he had to put money on it, he would say that she could feel exactly how fast his heart is beating.

“Those things I said today, about my feelings for you...” she began, head pressed against his chest.

“Yeah, princess?”

“They were all true.” He pulled her back slightly to look at her. It was his turn to look confused. “Last night was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, Billy. Being around you just makes my heart swell and everything better.”

His heart started to beat impossibly faster, but there was still hesitance in her voice. “I feel like there is a ‘but’ coming.”

“But I can’t deal with this split-personality bullshit, Billy.” He had never heard her curse before. It was music to his ears, exciting, entrancing, but he also knew that she meant business. She was incredibly serious. “The person you are when you are around me, that is the guy I am obsessed with. Who you are when everybody else is around... I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of that now, and I hated it.”

“I know, darling. I’m so sorry for that, I promise, I will be better. Even if you won’t have me, I will be better. For you.” His eyes held an honest strength. It was as if he were selling his soul to her, right there in her entry way, where they had stood since she wrenched the door open in a fury. “But, if you will have me, how about I take you out tomorrow night? If you don’t want to, then I understand.”

“I would love that,” she smiled up at him, the expression growing wider as a matching one took over his face.

He couldn’t help but lean forward slowly, giving her an opportunity to pull away. When their lips connected, he melted into the touch, moving with such intensity it was as if he were repeating his apology and his promise into the kiss.

She had never felt more wanted before, and he had never felt more safe.

When their lips parted she rested her forehead on his for a moment, basking in the silence and the ambiance that surrounded them.

But of course, Billy had to ruin it.

“So, you are obsessed with me, huh?” She could feel the smirk against her cheek as he nuzzled his nose into her temple.

She turned away from him so fast that the wet ends of her hair slapped his face.

“Where are you going, princess?” He followed after her, long strides catching up with her faster than she wanted.

“I’m going to have a shower. If you want to join me, you can leave that bad attitude at the door along with your shoes,” She sent him a sly wink, a smirk on the lips that Billy wanted to taste once again.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, and his shoes went flying into the hallway.

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[angstysebfan]

Not Good Enough

Pairing: Bucky x Plus Size Reader

I usually don’t describe the reader, but for this one I will be. Sorry if it’s hard for anyone to relate, but I really am just feeling a certain way right now and needed to get this out.

You weren’t like the other agents on the team. Where most women in S.H.I.E.L.D or the Avengers are tall, skinny and beautiful. You were short, overweight, and in your opinion “ehh” in the looks department. You always felt like you didn’t belong, but the team always told you did.

When Bucky Barnes admitted his feelings for you, you had a hard time believing him. But after dating for 3 months, you didn’t doubt his feelings for you anymore. You have never been so happy in your entire life. You know all the other female agents question how this happened, but you were too busy enjoying your relationship.

One day a new female agent, Stacy, joined. She was gorgeous! Beautiful light brown hair that looked so soft, blue eyes that drew you in, and a body you would die for. When you and Bucky walked in hand-in-hand to meet her, you couldn’t help but notice Bucky’s reaction to her. You shook it off because you couldn’t deny her beauty either.

When she was introduced to the team, you automatically notice her eyes lingered on Bucky a lot longer than anyone else. When she walked up to you you extended your hand, “Nice to meet you Stacy. Looking forward to working with you.” She looked at your hand for a moment and then said to Steve, “I thought I was meeting agents.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up and nodded, “Yes, Y/N here is one of our best. She is one mission away from take the vacant Avenger spot.” You smiled at him as she looked back at you, an unreadable expression on her face. “Huh, well, nice to meet you.” She walked past you to Bucky without shaking your hand. You were honestly shocked by her rudeness. You watch her interact with Bucky and see the flirty fluttering of her eyelashes.

Bucky turned on the charm, which you had to admit, hurt you. “Sergeant Barnes, I am looking forward to learning a lot from you.” she said in a sultry voice. Bucky flushed, understanding her meaning. “Uh, yea anytime doll.” he said. Your eyes shot to his face. “Doll” was your nickname. You looked from him to Steve, who gave you a sympathetic smile.

When intros were done, it was time for dinner. Stacy made sure she sat right next to Bucky, which drove you nuts. Bucky didn’t even spare you a glance when you were forced to sit on the other end of the table. It was like he didn’t notice you. Not that you blamed him, Stacy did take all the attention in the room.

You started feeling very low and self conscious, excusing yourself from the table. You entered your room and quickly went into the shower. You couldn’t help but let some tears fall, thinking you were not good enough for Bucky. Stacy was the type of woman he should be with, not you.

While lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice Bucky entering the shower with you, until you feel his arms around you. You immediately tense when you feel him, feeling the tears fall harder. “Doll? You okay?” he asked concerned. You cried harder, holding your face in your hands. Bucky turned around and held you close, kissing the top of your head.

When you finally calmed down and looked up at Bucky, who had a concerned and sad expression on his face. You step away from him and leave the shower. “Y/N?” he called after you. When he made it out to the room in a towel, you were changing into sweats and one of his hoodies. “Baby, please tell me whats wrong?” he pleads.

You look at him with a mix of sadness and anger. “I’m shocked you even noticed I left the table.” you spat. Bucky is shocked by your words, “What do you mean?” he whispers. You scoff, “Once a beautiful woman shows up, you suddenly forget that you have a girlfriend. Not that I blame you! She is gorgeous, and I’m...” you stop yourself before you sob. 

“Doll, -” “Don’t! Obviously I am not your “Doll” if you are so okay with calling her that!” you screamed. Bucky shakes his head, putting his hands through his hair. “I don’t understand what is wrong! I was just being nice. I am sorry I called her “Doll”. Honestly, it meant nothing!” he yelled getting frustrated. You ignore him and walk to your bed, pulling the covers up to your neck.

“Fine, talk to me when you’re not acting like this.” You hear Bucky mumble, before you hear the door to your room close. You lie there for a moment, before you decide that you needed to fix this. You get up and open your door, walking next door to Bucky’s room. When you open the door you gasp.

Stacy is in Bucky’s room, sliding her hands up his bare chest and reaching up to kiss him, and whats worse is he is standing there holding her hips in only his towel. Tears completely flood your eyes and you leave the room without you noticing. 

--

When Bucky returned to him room after your outburst he opened his door and saw Stacy standing there. “What are you doing in here?” he asked, annoyed. Stacy looks at him with innocent eyes, “I just wanted to thank you for being so nice tonight. I know I was asking a lot of questions during dinner.” He gives her a small smile, “No problem, but if you don’t mind, I want to be alone.” he said.

“Where are you coming from in only a towel anyway,” she asked, ignoring his last comment, and stepping closer to him. “uh... my girlfriend’s room.” he stuttered, feeling uncomfortable. “You have a girlfriend? Who?” she asked in surprise. “Y-Y/N, my girlfriend is Y/N.” he says feeling nervous.

Stacy laughed for a moment, confusing Bucky, “You’re kidding right?” she asked. “No, I am dating Y/N. Have been for over three months, though she is not happy with me right now.” he said, taking a step back. “Oh? Well, I can make you feel better,” she said stepping closer, sliding her hands up his bare chest.

Bucky froze for a moment, holding onto Stacy’s waist to stop her coming closer. He felt very uncomfortable since he was only in a towel. She started to lean in toward his face. Finally he came to his senses and pushed her away. “Agent, this is unacceptable behavior. Get out of my room, now” Bucky barked at Stacy.

Stacy was shocked, but didn’t want to push him any further and ran out of the room. Bucky closed the door behind her wiping his face with his flesh hand. He quickly got dressed and went back to your room, wanting to apologize for everything. When he knocked there was no answer. He opened your door and came in.

“Baby?” he called walking further into the room. He checked the walk in closet and then the bathroom, nothing. When he came back into the room, he saw a piece of paper on the bed. He opened it and his heart immediately dropped.

Bucky,

I guess based on what I saw, I am not as crazy as I thought. Though I must be crazy to think someone who looks like me, would be loved by someone who looks like you. I hope you both are very happy together. 

Your Y/N

Bucky quickly ran out of the room and went to Steve’s. He explained everything that happened, which caused some scolding from Steve. “I mean I can’t believe you were nice to her after the comment she made about Y/N when she met her.” Steve said. Bucky shook his head, “I know. I’m a fucking moron, okay? But please you have to help me find my girl. I need her to know that I...” he stopped.

“You love her.” Steve said smirking. Bucky nodded and blew out a breath. “Please, Steve. I can’t let her think that I don’t love her. I knew she was self conscious, I should have made sure she was alright.” Bucky said kicking himself. “Okay, pal. Relax, we will find her. Let’s ask the girls first.” Steve said leading Bucky out of his room.

--

“You’re an asshole, Barnes!” Nat yelled at Bucky. “Yea, I know that already. Please Nat, I need to find her.” Bucky pleaded. “I don’t know where she is. But, if you got your head out of your asses and think you will find her faster.” she snapped.

Both men looked confused, causing her to roll her eyes. “Men are morons! FRIDAY please track Y/N and send her coordinates to Barnes and Rogers STAT!” she yelled to the AI. “Coordinates will be sent to their phones in approximately 2 minutes, Agent Romanoff.” FRIDAY said. 

The men nodded their thanks and headed out. Nat watched them leave and then cracked her knuckles. “FRIDAY where is Stacy?”

--

You sat on a bench in Battery Park, staring out into the water. You honestly weren’t sure where you were going to go from here. A part of you wanted to go back to the Tower, but didn’t want to see Bucky or Stacy. You figured by now they were lying naked in his bed together. The image making you want to puke.

“Y/N” the whispered voice making you jump. You turn and see Bucky standing there, relief evident in his face. “Baby, I have been looking everywhere for you.” he said, sitting down on the bench. You immediately tensed, something he noticed. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, “Y/N, I swear, whatever you saw, was not what you think. Stacy... she... she tried to kiss me and I froze. I-I didn’t know what to do, until I finally snapped out of it and threw her out of my room. You have to believe me.” he said grabbing your hand. You don’t look at him, knowing that if you did, you would crack.

“Why would you want to throw her out? She is perfect for you Bucky. You’re perfect for each other. She knows it, I know it, you must know it.” you say quietly, your voice threatening to crack. Bucky kneels in front of you, holding your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

“Doll, she is not perfect for me? Is she beautiful? Sure, but you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life. I know you are self conscious about your weight and your body, but baby I love your body and I couldn’t care less about your weight. I...”

Bucky takes a breath and calm his nerves. “Y/N, I love you.” he says with confidence. You look at him for a moment and then shake your head. “How can you love someone like me?” you whisper as tears flow down your face. Bucky stands up and pulls you into his arms. “You are an amazing and beautiful woman. You don’t care about my past. You only care about who I am now. And as far as how you look, you’re so fucking sexy to me baby! I grew up in a time where out woman had meat on their bones, and that is what I prefer.” he said causing you to laugh.

“Buck, I love you. I love you so much! You mean the world to me, and that is why I was so upset you ignored me tonight when you met her. I thought that you finally found someone else that you wouldn’t be embarrassed with.” you said. 

“I’m an idiot for tonight. I didn’t realize that I was ignoring you, and I’m so sorry. I should have defended you when she was rude to you, and ignored her. I promise I will be cold to her from now on, especially after the shit she pulled tonight.” he said kissing the top of your head. “And you, my love, will never embarrass me.”

You looked up at him, your heart racing in your chest. He leaned down and captured your lips with his. You stepped as close as you could, wrapping your arms tightly around him. When the kiss ended you whispered against his lips, “I love you.” He smiled and pecked your lips again, “I love you too.”

--

Permanent Taglist: @hailmary-yramliah​ @tuiccim​ @comedictragedy​ @cap-n-stuff​

[modern-vellichor]

Grief, is a Beautiful Thing

Stage One; Denial

Warnings: Grief!! Mentions of death, suicide. Loss of a major character. Battles with depression, silent tears, heart and gut wrenching sadness, indirect and very minor smut just to keep you on your toes.

Prologue || Series Masterlist

Denial; refusal to acknowledge an unacceptable truth or emotion or to admit it into consciousness, used as a defense mechanism.

You acted fine, you smiled and went along like nothing happened, like Steve would just walk around the corner and kiss your forehead, just like old times.

You took his place at the head of the table for a while, hell, you took over the whole compound. You were planning missions, doing research, organising accommodation and transport, planning classic Stark celebration parties.

Bucky saw through your act, of course he did. Sam did too, they were your best friends after all.

Your room was directly on top of Bucky's, down the hall from Sam's. When they walked by your door late at night, sometimes they would hear sniffling, little secret whimpers and whines. They never said anything.

You threw yourself into not only your work, but replacing your family. You treated Peter like a younger brother, and Morgan like she was your own. Bucky and Sam would watch as you played with Morgan, helping her with homework, checking on Pepper.

Eventually, the whimpers morphed into hushed whispers.

You spoke to the moon.

Bucky could remember Steve telling him that one morning. Every night you turned to the moon and whispered a little 'goodnight', and if you were angry, or sad, you would beg her to take your problems away.

"He's gonna come back, I know he is", Bucky had his ear pressed against your door. "He's a good man, he wouldn't just leave us like that, not me, especially not Bucky"

He smiled, it was sad and small and it didn't reach his eyes.

Nightly you would talk to her, the lady in the sky, glowing bright and bringing you peace. There she was, all the time, never leaving you. You started to go numb, your body shutting down, your brain struggling to cope. You fell. And Bucky was there to catch you.

Barnes was away on a mission, on that you had organised, you completely forgot. You were lost in a state of doubt and self pity you didn't even hear your door click open. You didn't register the light spilling into your room from the hallway, or the thud of thick combat boots being chucked onto the floor. You didn't flinch when the mattress dipped next to you, only did your eyelids flutter when a cool, metal arm was thrown over your waist.

"Hey, Buck", you sighed, eyes closed.

"What's wrong?"

What's Wrong. He asked that at least once a day. Once a day he asked a question who's answer was so blatantly obvious, but you never told the truth.

Never once did you utter, 'the love of my life left me for another woman, or, 'l lost my mentor and father figure because I wasn't smart enough, not even, 'my best friend sacrificed herself to save me and half the fucking planet'.

No, you always just smiled, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, his back, his arm -never his hand- and whispering, "Nothing, Buck, I'm fine"

He never argued either, just smiling back, pain and sad, but a smile nonetheless. He never pressed further, he never asked if you needed help, he was just there. He was a failsafe, he was always there, just in case you needed him. Right now, you did, but you were in Denial.

So he pulled you closer to himself, wrapping the duvet around the both of you. His breath fanned over the bare skin of your shoulder, his fingers traced absentminded circles on the soft flesh of your hip, his eyes fluttered closed and his heart rate slowed. You waited for a while, feeling him. Feeling his steady breath and his loose grip and his slow heartbeat, just like you used to with Steve.

He was so much like Steve, in so many ways, but at the same time he was do wildly different. You thought it was beautiful, poetic. How America's Golden Boy, the model citizen, the good guy, protagonist, could be best friends with James Barnes, an army vet who couldn't give two shits even if he tried. You thought it was funny, you idolised their friendship.

"I'm sorry he left you", you whispered, voice cracking as you let the veil slip.

Tears rolled steadily down the side of your face, over the bridge of your nose, pooling on your pillow. You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Bucky didn't hear you, didn't feel you, he was fast asleep, somewhere far away, with Steve, happy, you hope.

"I could have stopped him. I know "I could have stopped him. I know I could have, its okay, 'll get him back", you promised your sleeping friend.

With the denial and the numbness, and the constant work, came the forgetfulness.

You were in shock, it was normal. It was always small, forgetting your keys, or to eat breakfast, but it still made Bucky worry. You were coming apart at the seams, spilling guts and your shattered heart onto the floor by his feet, and he had to pick you up, and sew you back together. You just wouldn't let him.

Often, too often, he would catch you doing something you and Steve used to do together.

You would be reading a book, mind far away, and your spare hand would reach out for him. The look on your face was pain and regret and anger all in one, tears pricking your eyes as you recoiled your now balled up fist.

On the jet, you would reach out for reassurance, before and after a mission, and he would be gone.

You reached out for him, his wife frame squashed into the seat next to yours. You lifted your chin to admire him, in all his blood and mud caked glory, you smiled, eyes bright and glistening, cheeks blushing as he kissed the tip of your nose.

One of your hands reached down and interlaced fingers with his, your other wrapped itself around his arm. You leaned down, bead going slack against his shoulder. He let out a breathy laugh, a lovely laugh that ignited a fire in your belly. He ran a hand over your hair, brushing dried dirt and coppery blood from your cheek.

"You did so well, baby", he whispered. "You're incredible, you know that", his words were mumbled into your hair between kisses. You giggled, you learned from the best, and you made sure he knew it.

Your hand was tucked into your chest, the image of Steve in the seat next to yours all too fresh in your mind. The jet landed with a soft thud, and you ran through the compound to your room, not even bothering to grab your bag on the way in.

Bucky spent hours trying to coax you out of your room, listening to the soft sniffles and quiet sobs.

"Y/N, doll", he begged, pleaded, "please, let me in"

He was delighted to hear the soft bad of bare feet and the clicking of your lock. He shoved his way into your room, assertive and gentle, wrapping you in a hug and kicking the door shut behind him.

It was moments like these that brought tears to your eyes. It was the domesticity of it all, the soft touched, the way he drew circles on your lower back, ran a hand through your hair. It was the way he held you until you slept, whispering sweet reassurance into your hair, soft kisses to your forehead as you wept.

The next morning you called him into your office, Sam making a joke as he walked away.

"I have a mission for you, Barnes"

"Yes, ma'am", he responded, jokingly.

"Surveillance in Budapest, drug lord, Lloyd Montgomery", you stated. You never were good at briefings, not like Steve. "two weeks stay, you're leaving tomorrow morning."

He chuckled at your expression, brows furrowed, lips pulled into a frown. "Who am I bringing? Sam?"

"No, me"

The motel room was damp and dingy, mould grew in the corners of the ceiling, the mattresses were lumpy, the curtains damp.

You rolled over uncomfortably, chasing the sweet relief of sleep that wouldn't come. Day three had trickled by ever so slowly, you should've sent Sam on this one.

You rolled over, maybe Bucky was awake. You were met by a pair of startlingly blue eyes and a mischievous grin.

"Hello, doll", he smiled.

"morning, sergeant"

"What do you want?"

You stopped, thinking for a moment. You sat up against the headboard, Bucky switching on a light and mimicking your actions.

"A story", you finally whispered, smiling. You loved Bucky's stories, tales from before the war. Adventures, memories, stories of hard liquor and pretty girls and sometimes both.

"about what, doll?"

"A girl", you loved Bucky, he was always so soft when it came to his women. He described them like the finest piece of artwork he had ever seen, like they were an otherworldly being not worthy of his touch, like he was blessed just to be acknowledged by them.

"Her name was Rosalind"

You smiled, "Pretty name, who was she?"

"My first real crush. She was a waitress at the cafe my Ma took us to on a Sunday. I used to sneak in there after school just to catch a glimpse of her", he smiled, reminiscing.

You and Bucky both loved how vivid his memory could be sometimes, even after the brainwashing. He could describe some of his core memories like they were yesterday, others were a little fuzzy.

"She was gorgeous, most beautiful broad in Brooklyn. She had this red hair, real curly, stopped just below her shoulders. Real pale skin, too, freckles everywhere, and I mean everywhere"

You laughed at the little comment, waiting for him to continue.

"She wore these real thick glasses, right on the tip of her nose, she had the thickest Brooklyn accent I've ever heard, too. And these gorgeous brown eyes, they looked like they were just holes, like never ending or something, portals, I dont know", you laughed again, this time he joined you.

"Anyway, one day she caught me staring, wrote her address on my napkin. I showed up at her door that evening, told Ma I was staying with Steve. She had this birthmark, on her back. It started at the apex of her thigh and ended just above her hip, she called me Buckaroo when she said goodnight. Gave me a kiss, right on the tip of my nose and said, "See you tomorrow, Buckaroo""

You smiled, a pang of jealousy settling in your stomach, but you brushed it off. "She sounds real pretty, Buck"

"Oh she was, nice too, polite and friendly, real smart, kinda like you", you blushed at the compliment.

Bucky said a quick goodnight, turning off the light and falling asleep, you following after.

The lights were low. Music hummed softly, a hand wrapped in yours. Your eyes trailed up the arm, to find Bucky at the end of it, smiling down at you. He placed a quick kiss on your lips, "c'mon, pup"

He pulled you through the crowd, away from the party, a dress danced around your heel clad ankles as you jogged to keep up with him. He pulled you into an elevator, sporting that signature mischievous grin of his.

Next thing you know you were tangled under the sheets, Bucky on top of you placing soft kisses down your neck, sucking softly on your pulse spot.

"You're so beautiful, doll", he hummed, "so, so beautiful, all for me"

A thin layer of sweat was forming on your skin, Bucky still covering you with sweet kisses as one hand tangled in your hair, the other working it's way between your legs.

Your name fell off his lips like a mantra, a litany, a prayer for redemption, "Y/N, Y/N", over and over again like it was addictive.

"Y/N", Bucky shook you awake, you had broken out in a cold sweat. He wrapped his arms around your shaking frame, "Its okay, doll, it was just a dream. You're alright, I'm right here, doll, right here".

[invisibleinorange]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: T Warnings: Presumed Character Death Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington,  Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties),  Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Simon Hastings/Daphne Bridgerton Characters: Colin Bridgerton,  Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Anthony Featherington,  Benedict Bridgerton,  Daphne Featherington, Simon Hastings, Portia Featherington Additional Tags:  Bridgerton, Polin Summary:  Unexpected bad news arrives for the Bridgerton Family (and friends) regarding Colin's travels. This will be a series that is set after "The Duke and I" or season one of the show. It is a companion piece to "Goodbyes". (#I’mHereToKillYouAllWithFeels)

While Anthony was absorbed in ensuring the women in their family were saw after, he’d asked Benedict to see to it that Penelope Featherington was returned safely home.

Penelope could scarcely speak much less utter how absolutely wrecked she was about the loss of their brother when she was left at her door step.  If they had allowed her, she probably wouldn’t have left. She was far better off useless there than alone with her own thoughts.

Her mother was waiting like the viper she was. Penelope wasn’t certain she had the strength to fight her off either.

“Since when do you get escorted home by Bridgertons?” her mother asked. There was something implied there like it would have been perfectly acceptable had it been one of her sisters.  “You could at least attempt to look happy about it.”

“Their brother just died,” Penelope found herself snapping.

“Not Anthony!  He would have been perfect for your sister,”  Portia dared to say, which only served to magnify the hurt and anger building up in Penelope. Penelope was used to bottling things up, taking everything on the chin but tonight wasn’t the night.

“No,” she argued, biting her lip enough to where it was close to drawing blood.  She didn’t want to be insolent but this was hardly a time to care about the next social season or making matches in the time between.

“Oh thank Heavens,” Portia said clearly not picking up on the fact that Penelope was actually quite distressed.

“It was Colin,” she said, voice shaking with force at the words.  She was one mere seconds from collapsing in on herself.

“Oh the one you have that silly little crush on. The fool who almost married Miss Thompson,” Portia said as if the first part was public information.  Penelope was in such shock that her mother had even  noticed such a thing that mouth hung open slightly.  She wasn’t prepared for the hurtful words that would come next. “You need not worry, Penelope darling.   He would have never married you anyways. Those books really have rotted your mind.”

It was an absolute slap in the face.  Her veins filled with ice and the slight from her own family. She was painfully aware that she wasn’t as pretty as the other eligible women of the Ton.  It was one thing to know and another to have it spelled out in front of her quite so ineloquently.  The fact that her mother could see her heart breaking and not even try to offer some sympathy was unacceptable.  She was almost grateful for the fact she’d never marry or have children, just so she didn’t have to worry about being as unfeeling as her own mother.

“You need not worry,” she uttered, storming away.

--

There was one thing that Benedict and Anthony agreed upon: the letter could never see the light of day. They couldn’t bring themselves to destroy it though so it was hide it away in a desk with other important paperwork.

The only real question that kept them up in the night was what they were to do about the problem reading it presented.

Colin was young and perhaps not as direct with his wishes as he might have been had he been a few years older but they could read between the lines.  The very wishes Colin expressed toward Penelope would never come to pass unless they saw it fit to carry them out.

They could not agree upon who would be the one to take it upon themselves to ensure she was protected, loved.  Neither fully desired to marry and certainly not a Featherington.  Neither particularly saw the things that their brother did in the girl but there was no denying she had a good heart.  As often as she had been at their home through the years, she might as well have been their sister.

When Daphne and Simon forced their way into the drawing room, the brothers were still arguing amongst themselves over who must do it when the proper mourning period was over.

“What exactly are you not going to allow him to do?” she couldn’t help but ask as she approached, her pregnant belly scarcely hidden by her dress.  She looked well even if it was clear that she hadn’t slept in order to hasten the journey home.  From the look on the Duke’s face, he hadn’t been on board but had been forced.

“Nothing,” the two brothers said almost in unison, greeting their sister with hugs.

“I don’t buy that.”

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” Anthony said, protective act in full force as he gazed over her before looking at the Duke as if to accuse him of not having a better grip on his own wife.

“Don’t look at me. You know Daphne is of her own mind,” he said with a shrug.

“I only obey when the order makes sense and I’m pregnant not an invalid. I insisted we come as soon as we received word.”

She seemed to have it together far better than anyone else in the family which was almost remarkable, considering she and Colin were close in age and had always been the best of friends.

Perhaps it was all an act though because the Duke had threatened to lock her up should even the slightest hint of distress appear after a lengthy meltdown demanding he order up the carriages ended in his compliance.

“We’re grateful to have you closer to home,” Anthony finally said. “I’m not sure that mother will be able to properly handle planning his rites. I contacted Francesca and she should be home soon as well. ”

There was not body to properly put on display but a coffin would be order and filled to brim with flowers.  It would sit in the drawing room where they might welcome mourners. Someone must be with it day and night though and that was a job fit for a woman.

With their mother crushed and Daphne’s delicate condition, it was likely Eloise and Francesca would be left with most of the watch. She knew there would be no stopping Daphne from taking up the watch some of the time though or helping to ensure Colin had a fitting wake.  Then there was the small matter of tokens for funeral goers.  All would have be completed.

There would be an actual funeral but it wouldn’t be acceptable for any of the women to attend.  That would fall on Anthony, Benedict and Gregory.  They would get through it though somehow.

“I’ll make a list,”  Daphne uttered, throwing herself head first into the work of it.  This was how she was going to survive this moment. She moved toward the desk, going into find unused parchment.  Without sleep Anthony wasn’t thinking properly enough to know that was where they’d hidden the ghastly letter.

It was only once she was in there and Benedict elbowed him hard that he saw fit to remember and he knew it was too late.

“What’s this?” she asked as she spotted the handwriting under the blank paper pulling it up.  Her brown eyes narrowed as she began to read it. She gazed up from the words, feeling she’d violated her deceased brother’s privacy for having even read them. She wanted to ask if the others had seen it but one look told her that she had two brothers who knew full well about this.  

The last time she’d spoken one on one with her brother, he’d been so besotted by Marina Thompson that she wasn’t sure that he would ever get over her betrayal.  Clearly, she had not known her brother as well as she thought that she had.  The words on the paper broke her heart.  Her brother had died not fully knowing just how deserving of love he was.

“What did they do?” the Duke couldn’t help but ask, reaching to grab the paper from his wife and glancing it over.   He could pick up on the distress on his wife’s face and he was fully prepared to give Anthony a black eye over it.  This was already an unacceptable situation but if they’d done anything to add to the situation, he was going to be furious. At the moment, he wasn’t quite connecting the dots though.

“How could you?” their sister berated. It was clear the distress they’d hoped to avoid had arrived.  “I sincerely hope that I am wrong about the fact you have hidden this letter from its intended recipient.”

“It would crush her,” Benedict argued.

“It’s not your place,” Daphne argued right back.

“It is our place. Her well-being is our problem now and we won’t have this on our conscious. What good would it do her?” Anthony argued right on back, knowing full-well Daphne would win this argument. She always did.

“She deserves to know,” she told them, fury clearly written on her face.

The Duke was pretty clear from looking at her that he wouldn’t have to be the one throwing the punches. Daphne would be the one doing it, if he didn’t stop her.  He moved a little closer just in case he had needed to hold her back.

“Tell who, what?” a voice asked from the door.

All eyes turned to the tired, somber face of Eloise who had heard the arguing and decided to see what exactly was going on.

Anthony and Benedict gave pleading looks to Daphne to not tell their younger sister.  They might be able to bury this letter with her knowing but not Eloise.

Daphne clearly didn’t heed the warning. She narrowed their eyes at them before grabbing the letter back from her husband, crossing the room and extending it to her younger sister.

“I’ll leave the massacre of our idiotic brothers to you,” Daphne uttered before moving out of the room just as quickly as she’d arrived.  The Duke offered a sympathetic look to Anthony and Benedict before following after his wife.

[whereflowersbloom]

I liked you first

Part 4

Fuck. She was getting closer, he could hear the echo of her footsteps walking across the hall. He was positive she was on her way to his table. This had to be a fucking joke. Damian looked around and tried to convince himself it was his mind playing tricks on him. Perhaps it was the wine. Definitely he’d blame the wine. However he knew it wasn’t possible. He had only had one glass. Furthermore he developed a high tolerance for alcohol. There was no way he was drunk. At all. Damian has met beautiful women the past years. Attending Galas, charity events, and suchlike, as a Wayne. He did what was expected of him. Some were dates, others one night stands to satisfy his carnal needs as any other man. Every single one meaningless. Yet, they were nothing compared to this dazzling beauty before his sharp eyes. Pure and innocent as beautiful. Delicate as porcelain. This couldn’t be Rachel Kent. Jonathan’s sister. His date tonight. The simple idea seemed inconceivable.

He felt a warmth rising from within, a low gentle burn starting at his core, and stretching out into his limbs. He doesn’t recognize it, or possibly his logical mind refused to acknowledge it. He tenses, the sound around him mutes.

Rachel was too nervous to interpret the expression on his handsome face. She took a few deep breaths to slow down her racing heart. The unsettling feeling that's been building up in her since she entered the restaurant takes on new edges. An uncomfortable awareness of something she can’t quite put words to gnawing at the back of her mind. His penetrating gaze probably. There she was, standing in front of him. The man that stole her heart when she was a timid, troubled child, covering her affection with indifference. She longed to run her fingers through his dark hair. It looked so silky. His lips seemed to beckon to her to be kissed. Oh the dream of her teenage years.

“Damian.” She breathed torn between joy and agitation at seeing him for the first time in over ten years.

Fucking Richard Grayson. Damian swears in his head. She’s there. She’s right in front of him and he’s paralyzed, stunned. She was moving her rosy lips. God, he’d beg for a taste, those full lips were made for his. To be kissed properly. He found himself unable to hear a sound. His surroundings, her voice, nothing. His attention and thoughts too focused on those electric blue eyes. How intense and beautiful they are. All of her. She embodied the essence of everything that was supremely, exquisitely, unbelievably stunning. Becoming a beauty incarnate. Say something he commanded his body. It didn’t respond. Her expression showed concern, confusion, she must think he was ignoring her. Fuck.

“Oh.” Was all he managed to mutter. Seven hells. Is that all he can come up with? What in the world was happening to him? Facing a gorgeous woman and suddenly he was speechless, behaving like an inexperienced teenager. It was unacceptable.

He tried to focus again. Damn it. She folded her arms, her forehead shifting. It became immediately obvious to Damian that his staring wasn’t as subtle as he’d been hoping and he gave her the impression he was giving her the cold shoulder. How wrong she was. “Damian?” His hearing was finally back. He snapped out of it.

He cleared his throat, he was a complete mess. “Rachel?” He asked in disbelief. He wasn’t himself. All kind of thoughts swirling around his head. She nodded, smiling at him. He took a deep breath. It had to be a joke. He had to be sure it wasn’t an hallucination. “Rachel Kent?” He asked again, blinking incredulous. What was that in his voice? Was he stumbling over his words?

“Well, unless you were expecting another Rachel Kent.” She raised her eyebrows, blue eyes twinkling with humor, mildly puzzled by his actions.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear innocently and stretched her hand, offering it to him. It took him a whole minute to process what was happening and react. He shook his head and hesitantly took her tiny, pale hand. Damian was acutely aware of the exact moment their hands touched. He tried not to get caught up in the way her palm, her skin was so soft. He was touching her, even if it went in the places he wished to. Then he felt annoyed at himself for noticing it. The little jolt warming his skin beneath their joined hands. It was just a handshake. Nothing, Something he did on daily basis with dozens a of people.

“So, mind if I sit down now?” She gestured the chair, asking shyly. A smile tugs at her lips.

He wanted to punch himself. Where were his manners. Alfred would be utterly disappointed and tell him he should be ashamed of his behavior. He attempted to stand up but his feet failed him and lost balance at the last minute. He avoided the fall, grabbing the edge of the table. Thanks to his quick reflexes. He was terribly embarrassed and furious. He cursed in his mind again. A waiter approached him and asked him if he was alright or needed anything. He dismissed him cordially, saying he was fine and it wasn’t necessary. He regained composure and helped his date sit in her chair. Tsk. He was infinitely grateful his siblings weren’t there to witness it.

He sat down again, shifting in his chair, trying to find a comfortable position. He was angry at himself, his ridiculous actions, lack of self-control. It infuriates him.

Rachel covered her mouth with her hand, suppressing a giggle. It was the first time in a long time she’s seen Damian Wayne being clumsy. Even when they were kids, he was a natural leader, a prodigy, genius. Always doing everything flawlessly, mastering every activity or task. Growing up she couldn’t help but feel inadequate. She was eager to see new sides of him. He appeared to be so perfect, it pained her at times. This was so human. Was he okay though?

Rachel was looking at him worried. “Are you alright?” She reaches out to touch his hand, it was her first instinct, but he instantly moved his arm away, avoiding her touch. It was a reflex. He didn’t mean to. Their eyes lock, hers full of emotion, was that disappointment, sadness in those shinning eyes? He loses himself in those clear, deep blue wells.a part of him wants to look away, hide his embarrassed at his reaction to her touch. But there it was this foreign feeling. It was killing him, annihilating his sanity, slowly. Without mercy.

“I’m sorry.” He exhaled. Guilt. He felt guilt. He was trying to regain control of his actions and emotions.

“No apology necessary.” She sighed, did her best to smile sincerely. But anyone could see the truth through her eyes. Those weren’t the words she'd been hoping he'd say, but she it was her mistake for assuming she could touch him. This was better than fighting. And she had promised herself she wouldn't hold him to her selfish expectations? It was nobody’s fault Damian didn’t want her. Wasn't even his, if she was being honest with herself. Just because she harbors romantic feelings for him...it didn't mean he was obligated to reciprocate those feelings.

Damian’s senses were reeling. He tried to speak but found words has scattered from his mind. Never in his life had the sight of a woman affected him to this point. Not even remotely. He was so taken taken aback by her unadorned beauty, that he was undeniably drunk in her loveliness. This strange, sick feeling was making him lose his cool, his control.

Words bubbles up in his throat, he swallowed them down, gulping air like fish out of the water. For the very first time in his life he felt like a fish out of water. He didn’t know what words to pronounce, dominate his emotions or actions. He was Damian Wayne, he wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He was raised to achieve success and excellence. One look at her and he loses it. Shit. His head was throbbing.

“I know it’s been a long time.” She says quietly, looking down, avoiding eye contact with him.

This encounter had fractured his composure, and with the floodgates broken, Damian was struggling not to drown in his emotions. There she was again, avoiding him, like when they were children. It was irritating, not knowing the reason she despise him, or what in the seven hells did he do? He let out a pained snarl, struggling to overpower a foreign sensation clawing up his chest that was making it difficult to breathe.

“Why? Why did you agree to this date with me?” He asked coldly, frustrated, agitated. He needed answers now.

This caught her attention, getting back to reality. Rachel’s eyes open wide. “I thought it was an opportunity to get to know each other.” She said in a quiet tone, almost in a whisper. She was biting her lower lip.

“Oh really? Because 10 years ago if I recall correctly you didn’t seem interested. You hated me.” He bit out, eyes narrowed falling on her figure. Hurt battling with anger, but anger was easier to cling to. He was releasing all his frustration but he didn’t care at the moment. He started clenching and unclenching his left fist. He needed to hit something. Or better yet, someone.

“I never hated you, Damian. It’s complicated, if you let me explain.” She panicked, tried to come up with an explanation, make him understand. She was a immature and naive child back then. If only he knew how she truly felt about him. He interrupted her

“What game are you playing, Rachel? I’m not a fucking toy or chess piece?” He snarled loudly. They weren’t kids anymore. She couldn’t treat him this way. He wouldn’t allow it. He was breathing heavily. He lost his temper in a public place. Oh no.

“You don’t have to be an asshole. If you didn’t want to come, you should’ve said it.” She countered. She felt broken, shaken, hurt, she held her gaze with his own hard, furious eyes. The pain nearly ripped her heart out. This was obviously a mistake. She gaved a whine of anger and frustration, eyes growing glassy.she couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. She stamped her foot, more tears falling.

“Damn you, Damian Wayne!” With those last words she rose from her sit, and walked away from him. She couldn’t look at him. Wiping her eyes as she retreated, leaving behind Damian and that disaster.

Fuck. He did it this time. He wants to slam his fist down on to the table. Realization of what he had caused. She was right. He didn’t comprehend why he had been an asshole. There had to be other ways to keep her at arms length. It wasn’t fair to her to behave like this. He could be nice to her, considerate and it didn’t have to mean anything. Except it did.

It hurts so bad to want a woman so much. To have her right in front of you, her alluring eyes, full cheeks, delicate features, this glorious creature, and they were so far away. In mind, personality, perspective. In every possible way he could think of. And he was disrespectful, rude, nasty. Because he didn’t understand his own feelings.

It was desire. He wanted Rachel, had wanted her the moment he laid his eyes on her as he’d listened to his newly-revived heart pounding hot blood into his ears, he didn’t know how to deal with the need to have her, mind, body, and soul. It was all new to him. But he wanted her. Dick could kick his ass after all. He deserved it. Except he had to fix this. He had to apologize, plead for another opportunity.

“Rachel! Rachel wait!” Abruptly, his feet started obeying, rushing off to chase after his date. His heart pounding, as he ran across the hall. He could catch up to her still. He had to. He regretted his words before. This date meant everything. Fucking Richard Grayson. If he managed to get Rachel to forgive him. He’d have to genuinely thank him.

Notes: don’t worry it’s the first part of the date 😂😂😂🥺🥺🙈🙈🙈😭😭❤️❤️

[cummunication]

Jealous much??

Jealousy is defined as “thoughts or feelings of insecurity, fear, and concern over a relative lack of possessions. Jealousy can consist of one or more emotions such as anger, resentment, inadequacy, helplessness or disgust.” The situations where I’ve seen jealousy pop up are in relationships. Although you can be jealous of others’ success, genetics/looks, money etc., where I see jealousy appear most is whilst dating. The worst relationship I was in was overtaken by my partner’s jealousy. He was needy; demanding constant attention and validation 24/7. His clinginess was a huge turn off and his accusatory behaviors led to the downfall of our relationship. I could hardly even breathe without asking permission, let alone talk or look in the direction of the opposite sex, If I did, I would hear about it for days… being called a slut, cheater, etc. Sometimes, we can be petty and make our partners jealous on purpose (guilty) because we are doubtful and want to see if they actually “care”. When the tables are turned we can become resentful if we see them laughing a little “too much” with someone of the opposite sex. This is (sadly) a normal occurrence in any relationship/marriage etc. even in friendships. But these situations although difficult to discuss, can be perfect opportunities to communicate how we are truly feeling. “Most people feel a little jealous sometimes, especially when they have strong feelings of attraction and love for their partner, and a little jealousy occasionally can add zest to a relationship. But just as a spark can illuminate a room, a blaze can burn it to the ground. One of the most important factors in determining whether jealous feelings are good or bad for your relationship is how you (and your partner) express or respond to jealousy. But, more often, jealousy seems to be associated with relationship dissatisfaction, feelings of insecurity and conflict. Jealousy is a sign of wanting some form of exclusivity. But on a deeper level, jealousy is a sign of wanting to feel special to the person you're in a relationship with. Jealousy is also a fear of losing any special connection you may have with the person you're in a relationship with.” I’m not so much jealous as much as I envy other women. I can be incredibly salty when I see other girls who have traits I wish I had. This is why I try to avoid social media because I have the bad habit of comparing myself to others. Jealousy can be healthy to an extent - however, there’s a fine line between normal jealousy and toxic, unhealthy jealousy that leads to dysfunction. It’s important to know the difference so you can distinguish where you are at if this is something you struggle with. “Many people glamourize jealousy by saying it's a sign of love. It's not! It's a sign of insecurity and reflective of seeing your partner as an object to be possessed. Jealousy and possessiveness are not safe cocoons. Acting overbearing and possessive can change a loving relationship into one filled with envy, terror and control. Possessiveness comes from feelings of insecurity in a relationship. This jealousy will grow into control. Feelings of insecurity are the cause of jealousy. A poor self image and lack of self confidence can result in making you feel insecure about a relationship.” Don’t get me wrong, I can be super insecure. However, when we look at controlling, jealous people they tend to lean towards anxious-insecure attachment versus avoidant (which I identify with). Although I have insecurities as much as anyone else, mine are brought on by feelings of unworthiness, not so much fear my partner will cheat on me. These people tend to externalize their anger whereas I internalize mine. Although one is not better than the other, people who are covertly or overtly aggressive tend to fail at admitting they have an issue. This is where I would suggest therapy if you deal with severe jealousy as it can turn into abuse. The SLA twelve step program (sex and love addiction) may prove helpful. You can find a meeting near you on their website. “There's a fine line between jealousy and possessiveness, and it's important to keep yourself in check. It's one thing to feel jealous, it's another thing to allow it to sabotage your relationship. If you're not trusting your partner, there's a bigger issue there. It's also unhealthy when it leads to self-loathing. "A little bit of jealousy in a healthy relationship is fine," says biological anthropologist Helen Fisher. It might be tempting to think that someone is more interested in you, or cares for you more, because they express more jealousy or possessive behavior. We feel jealous in such moments because of our sense that a cherished connection we have with another person is threatened, and our fear that a loved one may find someone else to replace us. For such extremely jealous individuals, their jealousy almost always leads to the end of relationships.” People who are extremely jealous actually cause their worst fears to come true. They are so anxious and excessively worried their partner will leave them or fall in love with somebody else. In my personal experience, my ex who was overly possessive and insecure manifested his worst nightmare. It’s not that I stopped loving him at all; but his anger led me to push him away and not want to be around him. Although I did end up leaving, it was his behavior that led him to fulfill his fear of being dumped. “In the early stages of a relationship, young people seem to believe that jealousy and possessiveness are signs of great love and loyalty, of protectiveness and caring. Breathe out: Possessiveness indicates that a person is not able to trust . Pathological jealousy, also known as Morbid jealousy, Othello syndrome or delusional jealousy, is a psychological disorder in which a person is preoccupied with the thought that their spouse or sexual partner is being unfaithful without having any real proof, along with socially unacceptable or abnormal behaviour. Feeling insecure in your relationship can lead to needy behavior and unhappiness for both partners. Insecurities in a relationship can be destructive and a quick way to sabotage potential happiness. They can cause both men and women to make some of the biggest relationship mistakes out there.Insecurity is an inner feeling of being threatened and/or inadequate in some way. We've all felt it at one time or another. But while it's quite normal to have feelings of self-doubt once in a while, chronic insecurity can sabotage your success in life and can be particularly damaging to your intimate relationships.”

[anti-transphobia]

I'd have to disagree. Yes, it is for gnc men, not for women. But saying trans women can't use the word is sort of a limited idea on someone's relationship with gender

Like the whole femboy culture this past 20 years has been about gnc men expressing themselves. Expressing themselves in a way western society deems unacceptable. Being themselves. And the thing is gay men (which most femboys are gay) and trans women have a HUGELY interconnected history, because cishets have always assumed us to be one and the same. Drag queens, "crossdressers", gnc men, trans people, they don't care about the distinction. So while I'm not saying trans women and gay men are treated the exact same way (GOD no) our history of how we've been treated and especially how anyone seen as a man in feminine clothing is seen is very very similar at times

With that in mind I think it's totally alright for trans women to respect that overlap. I understand why many trans women want to distance themselves from the idea of being "men in dresses" (and why there's even discourse about a term that's always been for gnc men in the first place, their dysphoria turns into homophobia and anger that a thriving community of gnc men exists. That and a ton of misinformation about what femboy means and comes from. But I digress).

But what about trans women who understand the interconnected history of trans women and gnc men? Like "yeah people think I'm a man even though I'm not, and I'm RECLAIMING this. You may think I'm a man and that men in women's clothing is disgusting, but you're wrong. Even if I was a man this would be okay. I'm proud of who I am and my expression". The few trans women I've met in the community over the years has had this reasoning. It's basically a show of solidarity for two groups of people often seen the same way by our oppressors

There's also the fact that some femboys discover they're not boys at all via the community! Sometimes in an act of proud non-conforming gender expression, people realize that it actually IS a bit gender-conforming after all and that they're women. Which is great! And the people I personally haven't met but have seen talking about their experiences of finding out they're women through the femboy community are very thankful. Many abandon the label, but some keep it out of respect and pride for a community that helped them become more of themself. That helped them become a happier person that understands themself better. I think that's a respectable reason to call yourself a femboy

Also once again the gender expression thing in general..... people can have connections to words and communities without it being super accurate to their gender. Gender is made up, and plenty of trans people aren't ashamed of their AGAB, but embrace some parts of it. Like being a catboy is part of MY gender expression....but I'm not a boy and don't want to be called one ever with the exception of being a catboy (I guess a catboy femboy but I also never used the label to describe myself, though in the community)

So yeah those are my reasons as to why I think trans women should be able to call themselves femboys if they want to. It may not make "sense" for a woman to call herself a man, especially a group of women that tends to hate that, but it's a nuanced situation. The entire point of being a femboy is proudly having a non-standard relationship with gender expression: trans women can really relate to and apply to that, don't you think? As long as trans women don't try to make the community about them/claim it's for trans women and take it away from gnc men, it's absolutely fine imo

While I’m not one to police what words you can and cannot use, of course if you feel comfortable identifying with a term by all means use it for yourself, but I don’t think that trans women/transfems/MtFs should be calling themselves femboys, especially if they don’t feel comfortable being called men or boys, because trans women are WOMEN, and femboys are BOYS, the term is Feminine Boy, so while a feminine FtM/trans man/transmasc can call themselves a femboy because they are a man, I’m not sure how comfortable it would be for a trans women to do so. Of course the term is just a word, and if a transfem person feels comfortable being called a femboy, who am I to stop her, she’s living her best life and I’m proud of her, but this is just a thought I’ve been having.

[wesingingstigmata-blog]

On the tail of the international 'Woman's March', I post this. Again, this was commissioned. Then rejected. Which is all good. But doesn't matter how many platforms reject my writing for whatever reason. This shit needs to be said.

BORN BEYOND THE REEF: Identity, Autonomy and Being Policed in Public Spaces.

This year on Saturday the 7th of January, I was told by two security guards (one male and one female), to leave the New Lynn Public Transport Centre’s waiting area on the grounds that I looked 'indecent'.

[Disclaimer: Even though its not relevant, it was a hot Auckland summer’s day and I had just come from the gym (the way I was sweating could rival a waterfall). And just in case you were wondering, I was wearing a beige cap, a beige triangle-shape sports bra that showed no cleavage whatsoever,high waisted beige underwear that went up to my ribs, a long black dress shirt tied around my waist, men's size black basketball shorts, army boots, and a big black bag on my shoulder. Anyone that knows me will know that this is a ‘tame’ version of how I can dress. But what is important to remember is that I can wear whatever I want, and I will never apologise for it.]

So before I was told to leave, I was sitting in the waiting area because it is a designated 'safe space’, as the New Lynn public transport area is notorious for being having potentially dangerous people walking around at times. I spent a lot of time around New Lynn as a high school student, so I knew this area like the back of my hand. I had always felt incredibly comfortable here. Like most days, I frequent the New Lynn Public Transport Centre before heading into the city. But unlike most days, I was confronted by these two security guards while waiting for my train. They approached me immediately after I had sat down, and this ensued:

- I was told that I ‘can’t sit in here looking like that’. - I was told how I was dressed was 'against the law'. - The security guards argued that I was 'only wearing a bra', as I was being stared at like I was a prostitute or the child of Lucifer (either of which I don't really mind but I still consider inappropriate from strangers). - I was told that unless I put my coat on, which was a men’s heavy XL suit jacket, I had to leave the area. - I was told that I am not allowed to dress this way here, after I said proudly that ‘I can wear whatever the fuck I want’. - It was also explained to me that they 'don't let shirtless men in that area so why should they let me sit there looking like that'.

And what gutted me the most was that I was told all of this by a fellow Pacific Island woman. They then called their supervisor. During most of this exchange I was shifting between being entirely confused, offended and saddened, and I met most of their argument with responses like ��But I don’t understand?’, ‘What do you mean?’, ‘You can’t tell me to leave’, ‘There is nothing wrong with the way I dress’, ‘I can wear whatever the fuck I want’, and ‘This is bullshit’. After I argued with them for about 10 minutes I left, stating that I was going to complain. The female security guard then said to me, "Well do it, we have you on camera.” Which I was completely confused by because what had I been captured doing? Sitting in a waiting area and being hassled by security guards for no reason? This felt like some sort of weak threat. But that is exactly how I left the waiting area feeling: threatened. And as the anger slowly drained out of me, I was left with a feeling that I had known for a long time: being the other.

And here is a bonus fact: this is not the first time this has happened to me. Last year, I was told to leave Denny's Restaurant in the city because 'it was a family restaurant’ and how I looked wasn’t acceptable. I was then told to put clothes on or leave. (I was wearing a black sports bra and black high waisted baggy pants and boots).

When events like this happen to me, it always manifests into something more than what it appears. This is not a one-off moment. This is a prevailing attitude and system that I encounter daily in many different ways. This is a prevailing attitude that many of my friends and peers in different communities encounter daily in many different ways. But for the most part, I do not feel hurt or concerned for MY own safety or well-being in the way that you may think. With this event, I read more into what was not overtly stated, and I reflect on the context of the attitudes I was challenged with here. And even though my experience is valid and necessary to the global conversation, I feel more anxious about the experiences of others who do not have some of the privileges I have inherited, and who might not come out of those situations as safely as I did.

This may seem unrelated at first, but follow me here: As a mixed-race woman of the Moana living in Aotearoa, New Zealand, aka ‘Beyond the Reef’. I am already a daughter of diaspora, so I have inherited an internal conflict. I have always seen myself as a body of warnings for an environment that does not know how to translate me. And for the most part, I have spent a lot of my time as a young woman silently begging for forgiveness from anything, or anyone, that in my eyes embodied my fantasy idea of the Pacific better than I did. Which they usually did. For some reason, I was begging for forgiveness for an act I that I wasn’t completely sure I had committed, and I was craving a sense of belonging to house that I wasn’t completely sure had ever been built. But when you have already been born ‘beyond the reef’, you spend most of your childhood re-creating what you think might be inside the reef - you recreate your island, or home, within your own body. You do this because your brown skin is all the proof you have that the Moana knows you, and at that point it’s all you have got to navigate your way back. Through self-expression and accumulated identity you have taught yourself a new identity, a new tongue, which is a pretty amazing feat. Your new language makes sense to you. But the thing is, it won’t always make sense to everyone else. And most days this is proven to me.

So as I write this, I am thinking about those who identify as women of colour. I am thinking about my sisters of the Pacific. I am thinking about the overwhelming forces of tradition, religion and elders in the South Pacific. I am thinking about this undercurrent of conservatism creeping into my house. I am thinking about the gods that were present before ‘the’ God. I am thinking about the way we consume brown bodies and how media barely portrays us as whole beings. I am thinking about the movie ‘Moana’ and what truly lies for her ‘beyond the reef’. I am thinking about the fantasy of the South Pacific. I am thinking about how the world is reflected as a woman’s body. I am thinking about my sisters. I am thinking about belonging in the midst of rejection. I am thinking about how I have had to be my own elder for a long time. And I am always thinking about trying to lead by example.

The incident in the New Lynn Public Transport Centre is unacceptable and shouldn’t have to happen to anyone. There is something to be said about one person feeling they have the authority to police the physical appearance of another in a public space. It is humiliating and exposing. But there is something even deeper to be said about it being members of the same community. How we are publicly and privately engaging with each other’s bodies, but especially the bodies and lives of our daughters, sisters, friends, mothers and grandmothers? What is the present, historical and future context of our bodies? Do we share any of the same stories with our mothers anymore? Are we coming from a place of love, complexity and patience? Are we projecting a learnt shame onto one another? Who taught us this shame? Is this what lies for our daughters beyond the reef?

Whether we like to acknowledge it or not, in New Zealand we live in a nation that feeds on hyper-masculinity and champions an archaic idea of strength through ownership and control. The sexual assault cases that make the news are too consistent to be comfortable with, and the ones that don’t make the news are too horrific to even mention in everyday conversation. The spectrum of sexuality we use is limited, learnt and monitored through the media, ourselves and our own elders, and differs from community to community. The ‘code’ and ‘rules’ you must learn as a young person is overwhelming. To walk in the world hand in hand with the fear of bring raped or harassed has always been deeply disturbing. Our general culture of shame that we religiously perpetuate amongst each other through daily micro-aggressions is complex and relentless. Don’t believe me? Talk to young people. Talk to young women. Talk to older women. Talk to indigenous/pacific/immigrant/LGBTQI communities. Check our suicide states. This is us.

So here is where I shift the conversation. I don’t speak for everyone and I don’t assume I do. I speak with those that resonate with me and I don’t intend to end this as a critique on New Zealand’s relationship to it’s women, or any other community because there are plenty of well-written pieces on any of those topics. But the thing is, is that there is a responsibility I have, that we all have.

I am not worried about me. I am worried about the young women who are navigating these situations without the tenacity and thick skin I have accumulated in my journey so far. I am worried about young women who will absorb these experiences and let it hinder their growth or expression of themselves and their ever-evolving culture. So with this in mind, I leave the end of this piece as a love letter for my fellow sisters of the Moana, for those born beyond the reef, for those identifying as women of colour, for those who aren't recognised in society as women even though that is what you are, for those who are missing their homeland, for those who willingly or unwillingly fall into the ‘other’ and for those who are wanting to express themselves in multi-faceted ways without being shamed:

My sisters, I see you. And I get it. Do not apologise. You do not have muddy blood. It is known that one of the most dangerous transformations is when a woman begins to converse with the many women she holds within her form. This transition is when she begins to understand her own devastation and divinity simultaneously, and she learns to surrender to and master it. The most ‘dangerous’ woman is a woman fully aware of all the worlds within herself. A woman fully realised. And a woman fully realised, is a woman fully equipped. And my sister, you have everything you need. Some people won’t understand you, and that’s okay. You aren’t made for everyone. You are never too much. You are never lacking. You are always enough. You are the meeting grounds of the Pacific, of survivor’s guilt, and of the people of the Moana. Your body is a genealogy of resistance. Your body isn’t all of you, just an expression of you. Your body is every sign you have ever asked for. Your body is wonderful. Your body can be sexy. Your body doesn’t have to be sexy. Your body isn’t anyone else’s. Your body is complicated. Your body is your country. Your body is life, and must be respected. Your body knows your history and can see your future. Your body is the reef. Your body is loved. And YOU are loved beyond your body.

Now sis, your ancestors are speaking to you constantly whether you are fluent in your native tongue or not, because you are the your people’s most recent attempt at immortality. You have every right to be here. The dogs won’t bite harder than you will. The gods can’t scream louder than you can. Walk with pride and gratitude, and do not be afraid to challenge your environment. The world will never be prepared for you, but you must always prepare yourself for it. Knowing yourself is a life work, and there are people everywhere who are willing to help you with the load. Acknowledge those who have come before you and prepare the way for those on your heels waiting to be born. And on the days you feel alone, remind yourself how hard you have been fought for.

And never forget: You can wear whatever the FUCK you want. Because Jahra said so.

#beyondthereef #imstartingawomenscircle #andprobablyacoven#hitmeupforapplications #letsfucksomeshitup Photography: Vocable / Jocelen Janon