#wrote this based on my ex who i broke up with 3 weeks ago so please be nice | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

havethetimeofyourstyles · 4 years ago

Text

Extra Credit

based on this cause @avhrodite and I were texting, and she told me to write it! so this is for you miss bailey <3

also feedback is always appreciated! literally rb, comment, or an anon ask means the world to fanfic writers, now that tumblr’s algorithm is messed up.

enjoy 7.6k of professor!harry lovelies!

also the intimidating as fuck photo that inspired this, and will be used in the story!

Sexuality Studies. Room 3017.

You had stalled from walking into class with a nervous gut feeling in your stomach with a heavy textbook in your arms, too big to be put in your backpack, but it felt like your book was weighing you down. People were walking around each other to find a vacant seat as you stood there next to the door as you waited till the last minute to walk in and take your seat.

There were a few reasons why you were nervous to walk in. One, it was basically sex class. Your friend had taken the class a few semesters ago, and had told you the basics of it and the rundown. There was a lot of sex talking towards the end.

And although, you’ve had had sex before, you still felt like you were inexperienced. Your sex life was boring, and nonexistent as of a month ago when you broke it off with your, now ex, friends with benefits. He just wasn’t doing the job, like at all. He never made sure you were having a good time or getting off. And that’s just one of the reasons why you broke it off with him. Luckily, he wasn’t mad and didn’t ask questions. Just said ‘oh, okay’ and bid his goodbye. That had made you a bit sad, knowing he didn’t care whatsoever. You two had only been fucking for a month, and the excitement had left your body the first night you slept with him.

The second reason goes along well with the first, and that’s because you aren’t that comfortable. Again, you’ve sex, but you weren’t comfortable in yourself--your sexuality. You never really had time or experience to explore your body or others because you’ve only slept with two people. In that sense, you didn’t know what you liked sexually and what your partner liked, other than blowjobs, handjobs, and being able to cum while fucking you. But there was more to it; you wanted the details, the ticks, sensitive spots, everything. But you’ve slept with lousy frat boys who didn’t care enough to ask if you had finished.

You checked your phone for the time, seeing that you have about two minutes before you have to go in. You take a deep breath, walking over to the opposite side of the wall, preparing yourself to walk in. You don’t know why it was so hard for you to just walk in and sit down. The thought of having to sit through an hour and a half class that is mainly about sex isn’t that hard to deal with either, but your insecurities and anxiety is getting the better of you. With a couple of neck rolls and inhales to deep exhales, you were ready before you heard a voice next to you.

“Nervous about the first day?” You look up to find an incredibly attractive man smiling down at you. His smile had made you blush and his intent eye contact had made you nervous. The way he just looks insanely sexy, and you think his hair is better than yours. He wears a simple button down shirt with two birds next to the collar, along with black jeans and boots. And you think, he’s so good looking and dresses well too. For a student, you don’t see anyone dress or look like him at all.

“Uh, kinda? I don’t know,” you say as you are not quite sure what to answer, so you said the easiest thing that didn’t have to do with how you’re feeling right now.

“No need to be nervous. This semester will go by quickly and I heard the professor is really cool too,” the man says with a reassuring smile, and you felt a bit better because he was right. This class would be a breeze and then you wouldn’t have to retake it, unless you fail.

“Yeah, you’re right. Thank you. Uh, do you want to sit next to me?” You made the bold move to ask him, and it had shocked you. You never made the first move, but you figured that you needed more friends anyways.

“Oh, thank you, but can’t do that. Let’s go in, shall we?” He waves his hand out, leading you to go first.

You cheeks were filled with embarrassment, thinking that your bold move was a stupid move. Of course, he didn’t want to sit next to you. He barely knows you. You roll your eyes at yourself, making your way to the first row as all the seats behind the front row were taken, and you didn’t want to take the time to look around. You take a seat as your head sank lower from awkwardness you had felt, and you set your book down on the desk and heard your professor speak.

“Hello, class. Welcome to ‘Sexuality Studies.’ I’m Professor Styles. Shall we get started?” Your mouth had been open the entire time he was introducing himself. Shocked was an understatement as you didn’t realize you were talking to your professor outside of the class, but that hadn’t made your embarrassing moment less worse.

How did you not realize that? You should’ve seen it coming because you were thinking about how no student on campus dresses or looks the way he does, and you didn’t think to put the pieces together.

But, fuck.

He was sexy as a ‘student’, but as the professor, that was a different story. You had felt the weird feeling in your stomach, triggering your arousal as you watched him talk to the entirety of the class about what’s to be expected. You turned around slightly and observed the room; noticing that most of the class were girls and there were a few guys, but the female population dominated the class. All the girls had hearts in their eyes, twirling, and biting their lip as they stared at their new professor; probably hoping they would get some extra credit in the middle of the semester to raise their grade or purposefully failing their test so he can call them into his office and they can have classic office sex.

The thought had made your eyes roll. Not at the thought of office sex because everyone knows that’s hot, but the thought of purposefully doing horrible in the class to fuck the professor is beyond you.

The class had gone by rather quickly, Professor Styles only talking about the basics of what everyone is going to learn such as culture, biological, health, anatomy, art, etc.

You walked out of the class in a hurry, not looking at your new professor and anticipated the next time you’ll meet.

The month had gone by rather smoothly, only taking two classes for the semester, so your workload isn’t too bad. The occasional thought about thinking your professor was a student had haunted you, and you think about it a bit more than you would like; feeling quite embarrassed and you’d hope that he had forgotten all about it.

You were sat at the coffee shop, head in your laptop and notes that you had taken during lecture as you were starting on your paper that is due in a little over two weeks. You were so into your introduction that your fingers were typing away on their own, that you didn't feel the presence of someone beside you.

“Hi. You’re in my sexuality class, right?” A voice from your right becomes present, and you look up, seeing your incredibly attractive professor looking down at you with a smile. There was no way in getting out of this one.

“Yes. Mr. Styles, hi,” you say nervously, but trying your best to hide it with your smile.

“Thought I recognized ya. How are you?”

“I’m doing well. I’m actually working on your paper right now,” you chuckle a bit.

“Are ya? What are you writing it on?” You get a bit sidetracked, realizing that he’s still standing and all of your stuff sits on the opposite side of the table. You reach over to move it onto your lap.

“You can sit if you’d like,” you offer. Harry debates for a second, and sees that there’s no harm in sitting with your student, so he gladly takes the seat across from you. “But I’m writing it on the fine line between masculinity and femininity.”

“Ahh, yes. That’s one of my favorite topics that we discussed,” he says.

“Yeah, me too. Pretty important for this day in age.”

“I’m right there with ya,” he agrees.

For the next 20 minutes, you and Harry talk about some main points. Discussing and going over what ideas you had in mind as Harry listens while nodding his head. He notices how passionate you are with the topic of your paper, and he appreciates the passion. Students will lazily write this paper, and it really shows in their work that makes him a bit disappointed because he had thought that he made the class fun; adding a few jokes and having the student participate with the lecture.

But listening to you talk about all the ideas that you wrote down; so far from the earth as you keep talking as he listens intently to you. You’re a sweet person, he’s noticed. You don’t participate all that much in class, but he figured that’s because you’re just a tad bit shy. And he’s still amused at the fact that you thought he was a student, which flattered him. But in all honesty, he can pass as one, and it wasn’t the first time someone mistaken him for a student.

Just as you were finished talking, a hint of pink made your cheeks flushed as you realized you were talking quite a bit, and keeping him from doing whatever he was supposed to. “I’m sorry. I tend to talk a lot when I get into things.”

“Hey, no need to apologize. I’m glad you told me your ideas because I think they’re great.” He checks the time on his phone and sees that he should get going, and his coffee cup is empty already. “But I should get going. Don’t hesitate to ask me about anything for the paper. I’ll see you in class.”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles. Have a great rest of your day,” you bid him goodbye as he softly says ‘you too.’

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Although you had been comfortable talking to him, you have never actually had a close conversation with any of your professors, really. Especially not outside of campus. But you really did feel comfortable. You figured that it’s because Harry is in a way, younger than most professors—at least he looks young.

The rest of your time at the coffee shop was spent finishing up the second paragraph and your coffee before you head back to your apartment.

The paper was due in a week, and you felt confident about turning it in on time and doing a great job on it. But that did not stop you from going into Mr. Styles’ office during his office hours, and he did say not to hesitate to ask if you had any questions, so you were using that to your advantage to make your paper even better.

He was surprised to see you just after two days of seeing him at the coffee shop that happened the week prior; asking him how to rephrase some things and seeing where some ideas fit into the paragraphs that are already written. And Harry happily helped you. Although he thinks you don’t need help at all, seeing as you’re right on track on the topic.

But you had felt a sudden surge of confidence that has never hit you before. And you can tell yourself that you’re comfortable enough to ask him questions all you want, but in reality, you wanted to keep talking to him and most importantly, keep seeing him.

He had this sense of comfort to him that made you feel safe. You never felt the awkward tension that there is in when talking to other professors, and you were glad for it. Mr. Styles had made it a safe space for his students to talk to him. And aside from asking him about school related things, you two had gotten to know each other after the important questions were asked. The conversations were harmless, and you looked forward to them everytime.

A knock was heard on his office door and he told whoever was behind it to come in. You walked in with a smile, laptop and notebook held to your chest, walking in slowly as you closed the door behind you.

“Hi, Mr. Styles. Are you busy?”

He shakes his head, “no, no. How can I help you?” Harry had—and was still trying—to keep it professional between you two. And although nothing had happened, he can’t help but stop the flutter of his heart when you would walk in his class or his office as you gave him a small that he adored. He also noticed how concentrated you are during class; making sure to take every single note and word that he says, making him smile at the thought.

“Uh, I was kind of stuck on something that I could definitely use your help with.”

“Sure thing. That’s what I’m here for,” he gives you a smile, and you open your notebook, showing him the many marks and scribbles that you had planted out when brainstorming.

“So I came up with this idea because I thought it would be important to talk about the history of masculinity and femininity. I didn’t want to just talk about the modern times as of now. But maybe research how it affected people back in the day when they weren’t acting as their…assigned sexuality, as you could say.”

“That sounds great. You can talk about that and during the times of the first pride march. That would definitely be interesting. But I would say not to go too into it, it’s a pretty straightforward topic, and there’s just a lot that is covered during those times. Just so you don’t get too ahead of yourself,” he gives his opinion. You listen carefully and take in his words as if you’re making a mental list of things you should and shouldn’t write about.

“Sounds good. Thank you.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, I think so. Just wanted to ask you that,” you say as you close your notebook, but not getting up to leave yet.

“Okay, can I ask you something this time?”

“Uh, sure,” you respond nervously.

“I see that you’re pretty much on track of the paper, like you know what you’re talking about. And you seem really confident in what you want to say, which is good. And I’m all ears when it comes to students wanting feedback, but I just have to ask….” anxiety boils through your throat. “Is coming to see me practically 2 or 3 times a week have to do with your paper?” You take a deep inhale, but don’t let your breath loose. He read you extremely well, you have to say. And it was a bold move on Harry’s part to ask that because if you say the opposite, then he assumed pretty hard.

You finally let go of the breath you were holding in and answered, “no.”

“No. It doesn’t have to do with your paper?” You shake your head in confirmation. “Then what does it have to do with?” He asks, and you think he definitely already knows what’s going on, but needs you to say the words.

“I just…wanted to see you,” you say softly.

“And why is that?” At this point, he’s teasing you already. Probably wanting to make a fool out of yourself so he could go home and laugh about it to his girlfriend or boyfriend, which you assume he has. And the bold assumption that you had thought he felt that pull towards you was enough to make you feel embarrassed for the second time in front of him.

But the remains of the confidence were still pooling in your head, and you figured you had nothing to lose.

“I wanted to see you because… I can’t deny this attraction I feel towards you. And it’s not based solely on your looks either because no can hide the fact that you’re insanely attractive, but I’ve gotten to know you for who you are this past week and we had some good talks, which was nice because no one has ever gotten to know me well enough for me to fall for them within a week.”

You finish your confession with a straight face, but there was still a hint of hope that he would tell you he felt the same way.

“And on the topic of no one getting to know me, and this is a sexuality class and you’ve recently started talking about sex; I’ve never truly had the chance to explore with partners sexually and explore my sexuality more in depth than just someone sticking their dick inside me, and calling it good sex. So, you talking to me and getting to know me means a lot because no one wants to waste their time on what I like and what I’m into.”

You had said a mouthful, and it can be heard as inappropriate to say that to your professor, but again, why would a sexuality teacher judge you based on your past sex life?

A minute had passed that immediately felt like an hour. The only thing that was heard was the ticking of the wall clock, and that made the tension even more unbearable.

You get up from out of the chair, “I’m gonna go. Thanks for the help, Mr Styles.”

Before you reach for the door, he finally decides to speak, “Wait.” You turn around slowly and watch him get up from his chair, and walk towards you. His eyes are dark, and they don’t leave yours as he reaches you.

The proximity is close enough that you could lean forward and be pressed up against his chest, but you’re afraid that you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself if you do that.

“You’ve fallen for me?” Is the thing that he could respond with after all that you’ve said.

“Yes. I’ve developed a crush on you, well, more than a crush because I do like you,” you say as you look up at him. He looks down at you intently, lips rolled into his mouth. He smells amazing from how close you are, that it’s like a potion that keeps luring you in, wanting more.

“Do ya?”

“I think I make myself pretty clear on that,” you respond with a bit of sass.

“Don’t give me attitude,” his tone changed to dominant, and a pool in your panties made itself present.

“What are you gonna do about it, Mr Styles?” You test, and move closer to him, lips almost touching. You can possibly reach up and your lips will be in sync. A smirk comes to play on his face as if you’ve made the wrong move, but you’re so ready for what’s to come.

And for a split second, it looked like he was leaning in a tad bit to go in for a kiss, but retracts back. “I’ll see you in my next class.” With that, he pulls back and walks back to his chair.

You’re left stunned, mouth slightly open, surprised he didn’t make a move. He didn’t even tell you if he felt the same way, and if it were any other day, you would’ve felt extremely sad, but there was so much tension in the room you needed to go home and take care of yourself.

And that’s what you did.

Once you got back home, you ran a bath for yourself and sat in it as you ran over your skin, leading to where you ached the most. Many thoughts of Mr. Styles doing this to you as he sat behind you in the bath, knowing that you would make a mess on his long fingers and pretty hands. And that definitely helped you reach our orgasm as you moan out his name, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly odd about it.

You finally turned in your paper on the last day it was due, and you were extremely happy with it. You added the history of not acting like your original self, taking Mr. Styles’ advice and not going too in depth with it. This has marked as a halfway point to graduating with your bachelors, and you were ecstatic.

It had also been a week since the tension filled scene that had happened in your professor’s office, and you haven’t been back since. Seeming as you didn’t need to since there were no needed assignments, but you had thought you would visit him in his office everyday after what you had confessed.

It didn’t get easier sitting in his class as he stood up in front of everyone looking so hot as he wore a crisp blue button down with a polka dot tie, and a pink blazer over it. He knew your secret. He knew that you had the hots for him. And he knew that he didn’t say anything to reciprocate those feelings. And you tried very hard not to let it get to you.

The lecture had ted to your paper topic: masculinity and femininity. But this time, it was open for class discussion. You weren’t big on talking in class; just preferred listening to everyone’s opinions and making your own in your head, but the ignorance that someone had made you argue with him.

“I personally feel like men should stay on the masculinity side, and women on the femininity side.” You had turned around to see the guy who had said that. He was wearing a football jersey of the university, laughing with his two friends.

“And why do you think that?” Mr Styles follows up.

“It’s simple. You shouldn’t act as if you’re someone you’re not-”

“That makes a good point in your argument though,” you interrupt, turning in your seat to look at the jock at the top. “You shouldn’t act like someone you’re not, so why would you act like someone you don’t want to be?” The guy had shut up, making you smirk. “I just think that being masculine and feminine as your biological gender is a social construct. It just takes away the substance of that person when people look down on them for being true to themselves. So, why does masculinity only apply to men, and femininity only apply to women?”

Harry smirks at your discussion. It had surprised him that you spoke up in his class, but it didn’t surprise him when you spoke up about this topic. You had definitely shut down his other student, and he was proud of you for that.

The class was dismissed and as you were making your way towards the door, someone stopped you.

“Hey, really great argument back there.” It was the ignorant jock.

“Thanks.” You walked out of the class to get out of everyone’s way, stopping at the wall across from the class.

“I didn’t mean to sound so douchey back there, but what you said really got me thinking, and I see where you’re coming from.”

“I’m glad. You learn something new everyday…”

Harry was watching you the entire time you left your seat to when his student stopped you to have a chat. He had thought you were going to shut him down for being ignorant, but he saw you smile and laugh a little, making him breath deeply as he glared at you, brows furrowed, and coffee cup in his hand. Harry then sees him take out his phone, obvious that he’s asking for his number and he sees you blush as you talk.

Harry tries to control his breathing, and in another world, steam would be coming out of his ears. He walks towards the door, thinking that he was going to call you into his class, but decides against it and shuts the door.

It was already nearing the end of the semester, and you have yet to talk to him.

If it wasn’t for the fact that you had slightly gotten over his unreciprocated feelings, you would have probably dropped out of the class and waited another semester to finish. But you couldn’t let him do that to you; you were way too close to the finish line.

Mr. Styles was in his final topic of speaking about the fun part of sex, and how it could be pleasurable. He talked about the anatomy of it at first, moving onto the techniques. And the techniques he used on how to pleasure a woman and man had you hot in your seat. He demonstrated using his finger, showing the class the way to finger someone, and you couldn’t help but cross your legs. And you were sure everyone was doing so as well.

The simple demonstration of his fingers making a curling motion as if he’s fingering someone made you clench. You had been right about his fingers bringing you to pleasure, and all you wanted to do was rush home and imagine it again since you have a full visual.

“Okay, class. I have an extra credit opportunity for you.” The class perks up at that. You had a low A in the class, and although you were confident about the final, you didn’t want to risk it, so you listened.

“Since this is a sexuality class, I hoped I didn’t make anyone uncomfortable on what I just did,” the class laughed a bit, and you smiled. “For this extra credit, I want you to go to a sex store and buy a toy that can be pretty much anything. Come back and show me, and I will mark you down for points. I don’t require a paper on this, so it is fairly easy, but this is to show that you should be comfortable in your sexuality, and walking into a sex store should be easy for you because there’s nothing wrong with that whatsoever because everyone has needs and if someone judges you, then they’re not getting laid.” The class laughs again. “You can return it if you want after I mark you down or you can keep it. A win win for everyone! Okay, class dismissed.”

You walked out of class with a smile on your face as Mr Styles lightened up everyone’s mood as everyone was stressing for finals. You were glad for it; the weight on your shoulders were still heavy, but a good laugh was needed.

You had two weeks to buy and show him the extra credit, and two weeks until you graduated. The days were counting down at this point, and before you knew it, it was the final week.

You had passed both of your finals with flying colors, and you had the rest of the week to finally relax as you were graduating at the end of the week. The apartment was a mess, and you finally had time to tidy it up a bit; fix the mess of papers on your kitchen table and put your laundry away. You also used that time to finally go out and get your extra credit.

It would be a lie if you had told yourself that you were too lazy to go out and actually buy your extra credit assignment, but that was far from the truth. If you had energy to get up and clean around your home, then you could have easily gotten up and buy a sex toy.

But it was the anxious feeling that you had that you were going to see him so up close, and actually get to talk to him again that stopped you.

The crush on your professor hadn’t died done any less, but it hadn’t increased either. You were stuck in a plateau of not getting over him and not falling for him more. You figured it’s because you see him every week, so you were hoping by this time, you were on your way to getting over him.

You made your way into the sex shop with nerves as you haven’t been into one before, and it was a very relaxed set up. Various of sex toys used for both genders were set against the wall, and a red curtain that led to something in the back that, you assumed, was the more extreme items.

You scanned the toys, figuring that it would be easy to just get a vibrator. Your hands shook as you went to grab the boxed toy, and you remembered Mr Styles’ words; there’s no reason to be ashamed in buying any of these, and that relaxed you.

The employee who rang you up was the sweetest. She greeted you with a bubbly smile, and told you that you had made a great choice because she has the same one. You didn’t tell her that it was for a school thing, because that would sound really weird, and you didn’t tell her that you were planning on returning it later on.

You drove to campus, hoping that Mr Styles was in his office. The drive was a 30 minute drive as you lived a bit far from the school, but you didn’t mind the drive.

Harry heard a knock on his office door, telling them to enter. His eyes perked up as you made yourself present as you opened the door. His heart was beating in his chest as he saw you; remembering the last time you were in his office and missing the presence of you being close again.

“Hi. How are you?” He pointed to the chair, and you sat down. Your heart was pounding as well, feeling nervous about being in his office again.

“I’m doing good. How are you?”

“I’m well, thanks. What can I do for you?” He asks politely. You reach into your bag and grab the box to show him your extra credit assignment. “Ahh,” he lets out as he sees the box. “Perfect. Let me mark you down for that.”

“Thank you,” you say as you put the toy back inside your bag. “Can I ask how I did on the final? If you’ve already finished grading it.”

“Yes. You did really well, actually,” he says as he shuffles through his papers, looking for the grade book. “Ah, here. You got a 95.” That made you smile. You were quite confident for the final, but hearing that you did well brightened up your day. “And that boosted up your grade to a 94, plus the extra credit, that will go up to a 97.”

Your eyes widened; you had passed both classes with an A, and you were extremely excited about that; and it takes everything in you to not jump up and scream. “Wow, thank you.”

“No need to thank me. You deserve it. I’m proud of you,” he smiles at you, and your heart swoons, telling him a thank you. “You graduate at the end of the week right?” You nod. “Excited?”

“Very. I really only needed to take this class, but I was putting it off because my friend took this course and said it was pretty sexual, and that made me a bit uncomfortable if I’m being honest. But I really enjoyed this class…you made it bearable.” Harry blushes, thinking how happy he is that you took the class with him.

“Well, I’m happy you enjoyed it,” he says .

There was silence that washed over you two with the slightest bit of tension; debating if either one should bring up what happened the last time you were in his office. You were feeling so many things at the moment, and he was too, but you were sure it was inappropriate to talk about it when technically, nothing even happened.

“I should get going,” you say instead.

“Sure thing. I’ll see you…uh, around,” he says hesitantly. You tell him goodbye and walk out of his office, probably the last time you would ever see him.

You had finally graduated, and you couldn’t be more happy and proud for yourself. A relieved feeling ran through you when you had put on your cap and gown, and the thought made you tear up. You were done, for now, before you had to go to grad school and get your masters degree. But either way, you were ecstatic.

Now a week has gone by since graduation, and you decided to do some errands. You also needed to make your way to the sex shop and return your item.

As you entered the door you had walked through once before, your eyes immediately spotted the familiar man who had made your heart flutter by the simple act of eye contact. And if it was by instincts, Harry turns his head towards the door and sees you standing at the entrance. He hadn’t seen you since the time in his office and he saw you walk for graduation, if that counts.

There was no way of avoiding him, so you walked over to him. “Hi, Mr Styles.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that anymore. You graduated already,” he smirks, and you chuckle.

“Then what should I call you?”

Yours. “Harry.”

You tilt your head to the side, seeing how fitting his name is on him. “Okay, Harry. What are you doing here anyways?” The question had slipped out of your mouth, but you think that there’s nothing awkward with it.

“Oh, uh, just looking for a cock ring,” he says honestly. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m actually returning my extra credit purchase,” you chuckle.

“Are ya? Why don't you keep it?”

“I don’t know…I actually never used a toy before, and I got a bit intimidated by it.” Harry nods understandingly.

“See, a win win for everyone. You either get your money back or you get a nice orgasm out of it,” he laughs, and you agree with him.“I think you should keep it. This is the time you get to explore your sexuality.” You debate a bit. He was right, and you did have some spare time as of now, so you decided to keep it; see what this thing can really do.

“If you’d like…would you like to get some lunch with me?” He asks, taking you out of your thoughts.

Your eyes brighten. “Of course.”

It was like you were waiting for this moment to come. You had waited for him to ask you out and properly get to know each other outside of school. Harry had taken you to a small shop that sold burgers and fries, and you two sat in the patio of the shop; talking, eating, and laughing at stories you told each other.

“Can I ask you something?” He nods, nervously. “When I told you I liked you in your office that one time, why didn’t you say anything back?”

“To be honest, I was nervous. You’re 22 and I’m six years older than you, and although that didn’t matter much to me, you were on the edge of graduating. I couldn’t risk that, even with how much I like you. The thought of getting caught and losing your chance to graduate, and possibly your acceptance for your masters, would just be selfish on my part because I couldn’t keep it in my pants… So I waited until you graduated; didn’t even know if I was going to see you again if I’m honest.”

You understood well on why he didn’t do anything to reciprocate his feelings, and you were grateful he didn’t until now.

By the end of it, you didn’t want the day to end so you invited him to your apartment.

You two sat on your couch, which thankfully you cleaned the place before, and talked some more and put on a movie. You two were inching closer to one another until you both were cuddling. You had rested your legs on his as he runs his fingers over your ankles, scratching your skin lightly.

You were breathing heavily, wanting to just make more than just innocent touches. As if Harry read your mind, he turned his head to look at you; a striking look in his eyes as you both look at each other. The air was heavy, sexual tension coming in hot.

“Harry…”

“Yes, love?”

“Kiss me.”

Harry wastes no time in connecting his lips with yours. The softness of your lips meeting his is enough to drive him crazy. The pull you have on his hair makes him let out a moan into your mouth as you whimper into his. Chests are pulled close together, but not close enough as the hold on each other is tight; afraid one might let go.

Harry found himself in your bedroom, and it seemed like he blanked out during that time. Your kisses probably just pulled him into another world, where he debated if this was real life or if he was dreaming it. It was all real, but it was lovely to dream about.

You sat on the bed as you continued to kiss while Harry was standing above you; him leaning down and you reaching up. You were close to his hard on, and it took everything in him not to drop his pants and have you taste him, but it wasn’t going to be about him.

This is going to be about you.

You’d managed to get both of your shirts off, wanting yourself bare and to see his chest. You were surprised with the amount of tattoos that littered his skin. It was beautiful and raw, and him. You went to press a kiss to the butterfly on his stomach; the only one you can reach, and trailing down to the vines on his hips. Harry throws his head back, loving the feeling of your lips on his. You reach for his pants and before you can fully unbutton, he stops you.

“No, no. Tonight’s about you, baby,” he says as his face is close to yours and he kisses the tip of your nose. You nod slightly, feeling yourself blush; and he pushes your shoulder back so you’re fully laying down on your bed. “You want this, right?” Your head nods quickly, enough to make yourself dizzy. “Need words, love.”

“Yes. I want this so bad.” The words come out quickly, eagerly. Harry smirks at your response, and kisses down your stomach towards the hem of your pants.

He fully removes your bottoms, only leaving your panties, and Harry thinks that you’re just a sight. “God, baby, you’re so beautiful,” he says smiling. His words made you blush, shying away from him by turning your head. “Nuh uh, don’t get shy on me now, my love. It’s just me. You’re comfortable with me, right?”

“Of course,” you respond, remembering that he prefers words rather than gestures.

“I’m glad.”

He continues kissing along the hem of your panties, teasing you slightly by dragging his tongue along your skin. The feeling makes you whimper and buck your hips slightly; wanting more than his kisses.

The fast motion of your panties swiftly being removed catches you off guard as you look down and see Harry looking at your bare pussy with hungry eyes. “Look at you. Fuck.” It takes everything in him to not devour you right then and there, but he wanted this moment to last and for you to enjoy yourself. He has been waiting for this moment the first time you walked into his office, and he couldn’t wait to get a taste of you.

“Harry…” you whimper.

“Yes?”

“Please just lick me already.”

Harry kneels on the floor, kissing your inner thighs before taking one long lick up your pussy. The feeling of his tongue makes you moan out loud from the built up tension that you’ve been filled up with since the beginning of the semester.

“Fuck, so good,” he says, going in for another lick, but doesn’t stop this time. He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking on it as well as giving it kitten licks. Your hands fall to his hair as you tug, and your face falls to the side as you try and drown your moans against the mattress.

You continue moaning, but they’re muffled and Harry looks up at you. “No, none of that. Don’t hide away your moans. Wanna hear ya, baby. Let me know I’m licking you up just right--just how you like it,” he says and gets back to eating you out. You give him an ‘okay’ before wailing out in pleasure.

The thought had surprised you as you’ve never been with anyone who made sure you were feeling good and alright. And you absolutely loved it.

Harry’s fingers enter you, pumping and curling and finding your g spot. “Fuck, you’re so wet. Who got you this wet?” He teases.

“You.”

“I did?”

“Yes. You, Mr Styles.” Although you have been calling that more than you called him Harry, his name coming out of your mouth as you’re a moaning mess makes his cock even harder. He stares at you above him with dark eyes and nibbles on the skin of your inner thighs.

“You say you wanna explore? That no one has ever taken the time to make you feel good? Is that right, baby?” He says as he continues fucking you with his fingers.

“Mhm. No one has ever fucked me good enough for me to stay,” you say in an innocent and teasing tone, knowing that Harry will be the exact person that will do that for you.

“How about we have a little fun? With a certain vibrator of yours that you decided not to return? Do ya want that?”

“God, yes please.” Harry kisses your stomach, up to your chest, and then your lips before his fingers slip out and he walks over to unbox the new vibrator. It was a vibrator that you were able to put inside you as it stimulated your clit, and Harry has been dying to use one on you the second you showed it to him for extra credit. You heard the toy turn on as Harry played with the settings.

“Ready?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

Harry sets the vibrations to the lowest setting as he starts to tease your clit with it; slowly circling around it as you moan out from the new sensation. “Does that feel good? Do you want more?”

“Please. Give me more,” you say as you palm him over his underwear, but he pushes you away. “Baby, you’re hard. Let me touch you, please,” you plead.

“This is all about you, so be a good girl and just enjoy this,” he says and you close your eyes, waiting for what’s to come. Harry sets the setting a bit higher. The setting is on a medium level, more stimulations to your clit as Harry moves the toy around. “Holy shit, that feels so good,” you throw your head back onto the bed.

“Yeah? Good thing I told you to keep it. You can use this when I’m not here to fuck you, unless I tell you not to touch yourself and have you wait until I stuff myself in your tight pussy.” The dirty talk is driving you wild along with the vibrator. “Gonna put it higher,” he says and doesn’t wait for you to answer.

“Oh my...fuck!” The setting is at its highest along with the part of the toy that is inside you; Harry moving the toy around a bit so it can thrust inside of you. You’re completely thrashing around on the sheets, and Harry has to physically spread your legs apart as you keep trying to close them.

Harry lays beside you, kissing your chest and taking your pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucking on it. Your hand naturally finds his hair and pulls on it as you bring his face to yours, and he gives you a solid kiss. You hold him against you as there were no movements of your lips with his; just the touch of your lips together as you try to control your moans.

As you two part, you scream out, “I’m gonna fucking cum!”

“C’mon, let go for me, baby. Cum for me,” Harry encourages you.

After a few more thrusts and vibrations to your clit, your orgasm washes over you and hits you hard. Your back arched, and you turned, still feeling the stimulation from the toy.

“There ya go. That’s it,” Harry says as he slowly pulls the toy out and replacing it with his hand, gently cupping over you and feeling your wetness as you come down from your high. Your moans have been controlled, and you started whimpering from how powerful your peak was. “You’re okay. Shh. You’re okay, baby.”

You buried your face into Harry’s neck, and he scratches your back, calming you down. After a moment, you lift your head up and lazily smile at Harry, causing him to giggle a bit and kiss you. The kiss didn’t last long nor was it deepened; it was a sweet and loving kiss, and a thank you to him.

“Was that okay?” He asks.

“That was fucking amazing. Never came like that before,” you tell him honestly.

“Well, I’m glad,” he kisses your lips briefly as he couldn’t get enough of them.

“So…” you trail off.

“So…” he repeats.

“Do I get my extra credit?” You ask in a playful manner, and he laughs loud making your heart flutter over the beautiful sound of his laugh.

“Oh, baby. You get more than extra credit.”

feedback here <3

MASTERLIST

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brightgolden · 3 years ago

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2021 Fic Fests I participated in

Thank you @kingsofeverything for the tag!

All my fics are born out of fic fests, so without the fests, my fics are basically non-existent. Thank you to the mods who organised the fic fests!

My contribution to fests in 2021 in chronological order:

1. Love in the Dark for @onedirectionbigbang

This was my first fic in my whole life and the longest to date. I'm going to say - the most creative, almost? Because of the worldbuilding elements. It will forever hold a special place in my heart.

Collaborated with @lapollypocket-detianguis and basically fall in love with how she portrayed my characters. Forever thankful for Big Bang and Dani for choosing my fic.

2. The Money Mark for @1daboficfest

This is MY trope. Omega Sugar Baby with Alpha Sugar Daddy, sprinkled with age difference. My most popular fic to date and I loved writing it. There wasn't any difficult phase, even if I changed the outline every two weeks.

3. Sugar at Night for @hlmpregficfest

Looking back at it now, I wish I wrote more for this. I still freaking loved it, literally the first glimpse of dark characters that I may actually write more in the future.

4. Lover Boy for @bhficfest

This was supposed to be a crack fic, but we all know I will never be able to write crack so this is soft angst. I loved how simple everything is in this fic, everyone was literally on their best behaviour mixed in with a healthy amount of silliness.

5. Heartbreak Anniversary for @1dreversebang

I signed up because someone convinced me to. It was sooo nerve-wracking to write something based on an art prompt, but I fell in love with art by @kingsofeverything the second I laid my eyes on it and after short research later, I decided to write Great British Bake Off au. The fastest fic I ever pulled out, so easy to finish it and I freaking loved the dynamic of the characters in this one.

Oh, I have to say this was where I struggled to come out with their relationship background (why they broke up) because this was literally my third exes to lovers fics in a year, but my beta and Dani came through for this so cheers!

6. Opulence Thrills for @subharryficfest

No one wants to know how hard I wrote for this. Literally blood and tears. It was published several days ago, and I finished writing it not more than 2 weeks ago. That said enough.

But, I'm forever happy that I managed to write a 60k BDSM fic. When I first started outlining, it was supposed to be 30k. Plus, I came up with Louis' work on a whim (while I was writing the scene). Never planned for it to be elaborate as it was in the fic, but I loved how it turned out!

Number of fests: 6

Numbers of fics: 6

Favourite fest/fic: I love them all for different kinds of reasons!

Fests you would love to do again this year (if they come back): I skipped Big Bang this year, because I ran out of original ideas LOL. Already got my eyes on a prompt for A/B/O fest. Already finished a fic for BH fic fest.

Everything else is based on the prompts.

Tagging my lovelies who love fic fests as much as I do,

@thinlinez @parmahamlarrie @stylesthebrave @zanniscaramouche @greenblueish @neondiamond @solvetheminourdreams @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

#i'm the type of person who outlined fic before signing up #just so I won't panic #anyone else?#about fics 2021

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vv3nti · 4 years ago

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liar — t. oikawa & h. iwaizumi

synopsis—a love triangle of unrequited love

warnings—angst , unrequited love , break-up , some aspects based off american high school , there may be a little ooc i'm still learning to writing the hq boys sorry :/

a/n—this is a one-shot i wrote i'm hoping to make into a series- i've started part two so that's promised if not a series, send an ask or wtv to be tagged for that <3

“I’m tired of hiding, Tooru. I’m tired of being kept a secret.” You said softly, twirling the necklace around your neck between two fingers. The weight of this relationship finally lifting off your shoulders, but that didn’t stop the inevitable thump growing in your throat. You love Oikawa, you really do, but you can’t keep going like this. Your heart won’t allow it. You want someone proud to show you off and cherish you with all they have. Maybe, your expectations were too high from the beginning; if you had set the bar lower, this all could have been avoided. Or if Oikawa truly cared for you, loved you as he said he did. Whatever the reason, the dull ache was too much to bear. “I can’t do this anymore; it hurts too much.”

Oikawa had not expected those words to leave your plush lips. No, he thought you’d complain again, he’d kiss it better, and you would forget about it, like usual. But this—this was the last thing he wanted to hear. You were happy; he was sure of it. What the hell provoked you to feel like this? “What do you mean? We agreed we would wait.”

“Yeah, months ago.” You wave your hand through the air. You had no intention of allowing the boy to dismiss your concerns, not again. “And every time I mention it, you disregard my feelings like they don’t matter.”

His eyebrows furrowed, a clear frown set on his face. “Of course, your feelings matter to me.”

“If that were true, we wouldn’t be in this situation.” Anxiety started creeping up your spine, a deep shiver demersing. You couldn’t help but feel off-put; if you didn’t end the conversation fast, you knew you’d slip back in his clutches. “Please, don’t make this any harder than it has to be. No one even knew we were together; that means things can go back to normal.”

“Normal?” He mumbled, eyes downcast to the floor. “What does that even mean? Nevermind that—is this about my fangirls? Because I can tell them to back off. Or Mei? Did she say something to you.” Oikawa’s calm demeanor began to wear off, and panic soon set it. The perfect picture he had planted in his head was decaying within the second, and he couldn’t manage the thought. He couldn’t even see the harsh reality behind his imagination; nothing about your relationship was ideal. Oikawa pushed you too far off the deep end, and as he tried to meet his own needs, he neglected yours.

His hands reached out to you, afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t get ahold of you soon.

The mention of his ex stung a little more than it should. But what are you supposed to feel? Tooru was publicly dating her for a lot longer than you've been together and you felt inferior to her in so many ways. They didn't break up on bad terms and you can't help but wonder if he still has feelings for her—it would justify his need to keep you a secret. “No! I’m done, I’m done with this, Tooru. This how couples are supposed to act; I don’t want to act like this. I’m sorry, but I can’t keep doing this. I need time, a break, anything but this.”

That night you both went home with a gaping hole in your chest and beds a little colder than before. Uncertainty crept in; was this a temporary break or a breakup. Neither of you had the answer.

You spent the first day of the long weekend cooped in your room, fresh tear streaks following the tracks on the old. On Sunday, you had to head to the school to decorate lockers for senior night or week in Sejohs case; the volleyball team had games on Tuesday and Friday this week. Luckily your appointed third year was Iwaizumi, so you didn’t have to trouble over an awkward encounter with Oikawa. Monday consisted of endless baking; it was safe to say you went slightly overboard. Assortments of brownies, cupcakes, mini cheesecakes, and peach cobbler aligned the countertops. One might say you’re a stress baker.

On the contrary, Oikawa spent his weekend hounding down on his team with tiring drills and repetitive rotations. His temper was short, and his attitude anything but playful. None of the club members wanted to be the one to confront their captain, leaving him alone in his thoughts—thoughts about you. At night he got little to no sleep, spending his sleepless nights replaying all his wrongs as if the answer will all of a sudden appear. But how is Oikawa supposed to fix a problem he didn’t even know what there.

Tuesday rolled around faster than anyone could have expected. You sat restlessly in the clubroom, waiting for Iwaizumi to meet you there. You requested him to join you in the room, considering you didn’t walk to school with him and Oikawa as you usually would. Regardless of where you interacted, you knew Iwa had many questions, and you’d preferably be interrogated in private than in front of the entire student body.

Iwa rushed into the room, school bag around his shoulder and one of his jerseys flailing in his hand. “Hey,” He spoke, his usually irritated tone nowhere to be heard. Upon seeing him, scorching anxiety rose in your chest. Deep breaths, Y/N, deep breaths. “I brought this.”

“Iwa, hi,” You chirped, hopping on the tabletop and embracing your friend—holding on a little tighter than usual. Despite your constant mantra of ‘I’m fine,’ you did long for some form of comfort. “Yes, right, thank you. Just set in on my bag. I want to show you what I made.” You dragged the boy by his hand to the table occupying your tasty treats. You figured he could share the desserts with the rest of the team once they won tonight. The hopeful look on your face slightly dropped. Iwa didn’t look as excited as you hoped for. Instead, he looked deep in thought, like something was bothering him.

“What’s going on?” He questioned quietly, finally meeting your puzzled eyes. “Come on, Y/N, you cook when you’re upset. Anyone who’s known you for more than a year knows that.”

Mouth ajar and eyes wide, you searched for an excuse to preach to Iwaizumi—although you know your attempts will be futile. Since you were in elementary school, you’ve grown up the boy and had no doubt he would read you like an open book. And if not you, then most definitely Oikawa. “Nothings going on; I just wanted you to have an array of options. Is that so bad? You could be a little more thankful, you know.”

“Of course, I’m thankful for all of this. But I’m going to find it a little concerning when Shittykawa is as quiet as a mouse, and you’ve got bags under your eyes from what? The hours you spent baking through the night?.” Iwa uttered, raising his voice a bit.

Unfortunately, that only further pushed you to the defensive stature. You wished he’d just leave it, shove it under a rug as you did this weekend. “Not everything I do involves Oikawa! If he’s acting weird, then you can ask him about that instead of undermining what I did for you!” You frantically grabbed your bag off the ground, planning to leave the room. “If you didn’t like it, you could have said thanks and thrown it away—”

“Hey, Hey,” A tight grip encloses around your bicep, halting your departure. “I’m sorry, I really like everything you did for me, you know cheesecake is my favorite. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m sorry.” Iwaizumi’s grip doesn’t falter, even as your teary eyes meet his own.

The lump grew in your throat as you fought back the waterworks. “We broke up, or I broke up with him, I guess. Can you even break up with someone who didn’t want you in the first place?” You said, through a broken sob. Iwa doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you with the same pitiful look you’ve seen a thousand times. His free hand moved to the side of your face, patting your hair a few times before he pushed your head into his chest. Words wouldn’t provide you with the support you needed, so Iwa simply let you cry in his embrace—secretly plotting all the ways he wanted to beat Oikawa’s ass.

He didn’t need to ask. He knew all the reasons why this happened. Hell, Hajime had seen the foreseeable future unravel when Oikawa presented your relationship.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be such a downer on game day.” You lifted your head, lightly brushing your palms along his uniform, waiting for your tears to dry. The door to the clubroom snapped open, hitting the opposing wall, prompting you and Iwa to rush apart. The look on the face read shocked, more towards the fact you didn’t need the club questioning why you were crying this early in the morning. But the brunette boy in front of you idly took a long, deep breath encouraging you to do the same.

“Oh, are we interrupting something?”

“Just Iwa and his not-girlfriend, what’s new?” Mattsun and Makki seemed to be having a good morning, and not even Iawizumi could shake them out of the teasing moods. Despite their playful banter, you couldn’t help but focus on the silent set of eyes following your movements, and something about his silence was off-putting.

You turned to the two, a sly smile planted on your lips. “I’m not even indulging,” Fake it til’ you make it. “But I did make a small arsenal of desserts, so help yourself-”

“If I decide to share with these idiots.”

“Help yourself-if Iwa chooses to so graciously gift you the pleasure.” You said sweetly, playfully bowing as Mattsun and Makki rolled their eyes. “I have to go to class, so enjoy, and good luck.”

“Here I got it.” Iwa offered, plucking your bag from the floor with a small smile. The kind gesture made your heart flutter, your mood beginning to lift simultaneously. Ever since you were little, Iwaizumi always seemed to know what you needed to feel better, almost like an institution. Maybe that’s why his tone was short and sharp when he told Oikawa to move away from the door as you tried to leave, you’re used to his cold demeanor, but it was unsettling. You didn’t want him to be this angry with his best friend because of you, although it was a little awarding.

Oikawa’s lips laid ajar, fumbling his thoughts to form a reasonable enough sentence. He wanted to say something astounding to you, something that gave you no choice but to come back to him. He planned it all day yesterday, but now as you hide behind Iwa, he drew a blank.

“I’m serious, Oikawa. Move.”

Oikawa hung his head in shame, shuffling to the side, allowing you and Iwa to exit the room. The overwhelming feeling of patheticness climbing his veins. He didn’t mind his best friend’s anger towards him, but this wasn’t rage. Iwaizumi was disappointed, and Tooru couldn’t shake his glare.

Practice was usually a time the boys could assert their worries into energy, but the thick tension left everyone unsettled. Today’s warmup was eerily different.

Tooru watched you bounce in and out of the gym with the rest of the cheer squad; Iwa’s jersey adorned your figure. His expression held that of a kicked puppy, and it was pissing off the rest of the team. They needed their captain in his best frame of mind if they wanted to win.

Hajime’s humorless laugh broke the silence. “I warned you, you know.” Oikawa shifted his attention. “I told you you’d only hurt her, and you continued reassuring me you wouldn't, time after fucking time. And...there was a time I believed you, but you’re a liar, and Y/N sees it too.”

Oikawa’s sadness morphed into anger, eyes twitching as he bit the inside of his cheek. “If I’m a liar, that makes you one too.” He sneered, eyes still downcast on the court. His emotions were on overdrive, plucking and pinching in his mind. Oikawa knew he should resort to this method of release, but he was losing all control.

The ace sucked in a sharp breath, eye blazing. “Yea, well, I can live with that. Can you?”

Coach cut the conversation short, asking why the boys weren’t warming up before the game. The captain and ace have begotten many altercations through the years, but they always found a way to convert their anger into power. Coach Irihata only hopes that proves true with tonight’s game.

You, on the other hand, had a million tasks to complete before you could settle down in the gym, so you ultimately missed the scuffle in the gym. Just that didn’t make you ignorant to the rising tension, and you couldn’t help but feel it was your fault.

#haikyuu!!#oikawa toru x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #haikyuu angst #oikawa angst #iwaizumi angst #oikawa x reader x iwaizumi #mattsukawa issei #takahiro hanamaki

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harringtonstudios · 4 years ago

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best friend’s ex.

plot: he’s your best friend’s ex and you should stay away.

A/N: i wrote this in one sitting and it’s very long <3 took some creative liberty here so imagine 2020!kells but he hasn’t made it just quite yet in the industry. this is heavily based off the song release tonight with blackbear so enjoy (maybe while listening!)

masterlist!

The circles in New York are different than the ones in Los Angeles. There’s a hint of familiarity in the New York circles, everyone seems to know each other connected by one person or a distant story of that one night the whole crowd tripped on molly. It’s dizzying, intricately knowing every single person backstage or at some club without recognizing them exactly.

You haven’t gotten used to the life, not yet acclimated with the high-fives and looks thrown your way at a party, or the nameless phone numbers crowding your text messages. It’s all new, fun and exciting and you have no one to thank but your best friend.

She’s made for this life, for the late nights and the rushes, the sticky floors and glittery lipgloss. This is her environment, where she thrives, and sometimes when you look at her in the club, necklaces shining with the overhead lights, you find it hard to connect this Domi to the one who you’ve seen crying on your bedroom floor after watching a despairing animal shelter commercial. But then she throws you a grin, crowds close, drapes her arm over your shoulder, and it just makes sense.

It’s been years of friendship, ever since you two met at freshman orientation for college. Her roommate was terrible, and more often than not, she’d be camping out on your twin-sized bed, offering you bites of her snacks in exchange for a safe haven. You both hadn’t really been into the party scene at school, too busy scrambling for reports and fibbing results for the endless lab sessions.

Domi graduated a semester early, spent an entire summer taking accelerated classes so she could go fly off to New York right before the new year started. That’s when things seemed to change. You’d been upset with her, hints of jealousy tinging in when she’d send you pictures of fancy clothes and people she was hanging out with, the nicely decorated venues she’d find herself in. She invited you to come to the city a few weeks in, buzzing on Facetime about backstage passes.

Then you were graduating yourself, packing two suitcases and jetting halfway across the country to live in the shitty apartment Domi’d been renting out with a couple of strangers. It had been hard to settle down at first, the air was different in the city and you’d had to up your resting bitch face game when you sat on the subways late at night, but before you knew it, you were enjoying the city that never sleeps, best friend right by your side.

Colson had stumbled into your life a year ago, and then been ripped out six months after. He was a up and coming musician (self-proclaimed) and had taken a chance bet on the city, moved from Cleveland with his friends and a mixtape. He was beautiful in a rugged way, angled cheekbones and lanky limbs, but Domi had taken one look and called dibs, so you tampered any attraction down.

It hadn’t taken long for them to start dating, even if Domi claimed they were just fooling around, it was clear to see that there was some level of intimacy there, a relationship itching to be formed. You’d been happy for her truly and it was easier than you’d expected to fall into a camaraderie with the guys.

Colson’s friends were funny, quick on their toes and absolutely chaotic. They fit into New York better than you did, and almost every single night, you would find yourself at their apartment, playing shitty drinking games and jamming to loud music.

Domi kept the relationship as lowkey as she could, and at some point, you would hear less and less about Colson. It didn’t really hit you then, but it was the beginning of the end in a way, and then she was walking in, eyes red and wet before yelling out the fated words, “We broke up.”

Everything you had gotten used to was suddenly taken away. You spent weeks consoling her, reminding her that she was better than this guy, stronger and that time was the only way this would heal. She begrudgingly listened, and then took your phone from you, casually blocking Colson’s number along with all his friends.

At first, you’d been mildly upset. She was the one who’d fucked up, the one who’d decided to break up with him, so why was this effecting you? It didn’t make sense, they were still your friends and you liked them more than anyone else you’d met here.

But then she’d given you her patented puppy dog eyes, and you’d dismissed it, decided that if this was what she wanted, so be it. You could stand to lose the drunken nights, your liver would thank you.

Colson Baker and his friends disappeared from your life as fast as they had appeared into it. You spent your nights cooking at home instead of going out, focused on building back your sleep schedule instead of getting drunk off your mind, and the days went by.

Of course, nothing lasts forever and six months later, your coworkers’ are begging you for a night out, like the old times. Everyone’s antsy for your reply, know that you haven’t been to a social function with them in ages, and you take one look at their faces before sighing and agreeing.

The entire office claps, you flip them all off before catching sight of your boss, who simply smiles and shakes his head. There’s a faint flutter in your stomach, memories rising from months ago, parties and late nights, flashes of lights and thumping music. You shrug it off, tap your pen against the desk, bring your focus back to work.

Three hours later, you’re catching the train back home. It isn’t exactly rush hour yet, you’ve gotten out a little earlier than usual, Friday evenings usually being dull at work anyway and you’re glad because there’s less people mulling around in the sticky heat of the train station.

The station doesn’t smell great, there’s a tinge of stale pee filling up the air and you discreetly move to the other side of the station, trying to get as far away from the smell as you can. New York City man.

The train pulls in, and you automatically put in your headphones, music blasting in your ears as you sidle into the train car, passing the passengers coming out. It’s relatively empty, being near the front and you thank the train gods before sliding into an orange seat near the door.

There’s a couple of guys sitting at the other end, they’re loud and boisterous, shoving each other and you give them a once-over before settling into the seat. The train moves, and you pull your purse onto your lap, patting it once before letting your eyes fall close.

The next stop comes abruptly, jolting you out of the little dreamscape you’d created. There’s a shout as the doors open and you pause your music trying to tune into what’s going on. It’s still the group of guys, but now there’s more of them and you roll your eyes at the banter drifting across the car.

The music starts up again and you lean your head back, try to get comfortable again, but it doesn’t work. There’s a weird feeling in your gut, making you uneasy but you brush it off, raise the volume until all you can feel is the dirty bass.

A minute later, someone kicks at your shoes and you open your eyes, ready to angrily scold at them until they can feel the rage across the car.

The words die in your throat. Colson Baker’s standing there in all his glory, lanky arm leaning against the metal, blonde hair puffing around his head, grin lighting up his face.

His nose is pierced now and you take it in, the way it brings out his eyes and you pause the music mumbling out, “Nose ring looks good on you.”

You bite your tongue right after, embarrassed that after months of silence that’s the first thing that falls out of your mouth. He laughs, body shaking and you’re flashed back to nights in his apartment, watching him laugh on the other couch, head thrown back.

“Thanks,” he murmurs before going, “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you answer honestly and there’s another shout from across the car, Colson turning to wave a hand.

“It’s the guys. They didn’t think it was you, but I could tell yanno,” he explains and you raise your eyebrows as he continues, “They’re all still kinda pissed you blocked us.”

The statement falls between you two, awkwardly as the train car rumbles on. You wince a little as he fake coughs to fill the empty space.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about all that man. You guys were like family,” you carefully mention, hands playing with the hair tie on your wrist.

“It’s cool. I get it, I mean we both know Domi,” he stammers out and his own hand goes to rub at his chin.

This conversation isn’t what either of you expected and you shift up in your seat, trying to change the topic at the mention of your best friend.

“So what’ve you been up to?” you ask and he smiles at the gateway question, eager to get rid of the uncomfortable energy.

“Got signed to a record label,” he murmurs and the smile that takes over your face is unreal. There’s pride blooming in your chest.

“No way!! Oh my god, congrats dude. That’s killer,” you gush out and his cheeks taint red at your words.

“Thanks,” he says, eyes meeting yours.

“I knew you’d do it. You’re immensely talented,” you continue on as the train comes to a stop.

It’s not yours but it seems to be his. The guys all shout over at him and he’s looking up and then gazing at you, caught between the two options before he makes up his mind.

He doesn’t choose you, you’re not surprised.

“I appreciate you!” he shouts out before running off the car, joining the rest of the guys on the station.

You turn in your seat and wave at them, catching a couple of glares and hesitant waves back before the car pulls away, to the next destination.

The music starts up again and you will your heart to slow down for reasons you can’t even comprehend.

Domi gives you a look as you rush into your room. Usually after work, you spend time in the kitchen, milling around grabbing little snacks as she cooks, but you actually have plans tonight.

It’s the first time you’re going out in months and you take a quick shower before pulling out all the old outfits you’d shoved into the back of your closet.

There’s a nice dress, black with faint traces of glitter and you eye it for a second before deciding against it. This is a fun night with the coworkers, not your insane best friend who’d always managed to get you to dress your very best.

There’s a pair of skinny jeans tossed into a dresser, and you eye the rips in it before pulling it on. It looks good, tight in all the right places and you root around for a shirt that can be just fancy enough.

There’s a nice purple one tossed in the closet, slipping off of a hanger and you grab it before pulling it on and tying it up in the front.

It’s pretty, makes you look just right and you play around with your hair before sitting down and committing to a makeup look.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re throwing your keys, a pack of gum, gloss and your phone into a small purse. It hangs off of your wrist and you take a look in the mirror before stepping out of your room.

“Where are you going?” Domi asks, her tone slightly cold.

“Night out. Coworkers invited me and I couldn’t say no,” you explain, running your hands down the jeans.

“Oh,” her face falls.

“Do I-look good?” you ask hesitantly.

“Yeah. You always do bitch,” she half-heartedly adds and you smile at her.

“I’ll see you tonight,” you say, grabbing a carrot from the countertop.

“I’ll wait up,” she smirks and you nod before heading out the door.

The club’s only a few stops away and when you swipe your metro card again, you groan at how low the funds are running. You haven’t filled it just yet, and the $1.25 flashes up at you, taunting.

“I’m poor,” you scoff at the machine and the girl swiping next to you laughs.

You get in somehow, sneakily using the swinging baby stroller door and by the time the train pulls up, you’re only running a few minutes late.

It only hits you when you sink into the familiar orange seat that you didn’t tell Domi about running into her ex. You know she doesn’t care as much about Colson now, scorchingly refers to him as that one rapper, but it’s an unspoken rule. You always tell if you run into the ex.

Your fingers tap against your phone screen, wondering if texting her is appropriate but you drop it quickly. It’s not a big deal. You’ll just let her know when you get home tonight.

The doors open, you leave and then you’re stalking towards the club doors, eyeing the long line. The bouncer is staring everyone down, and you wade up to the front. You’ve learned enough tricks in the short party lifestyle you’d had.

“I’m with the VIPs,” you flash your ID and then a $5 discreetly tucked under it. He looks you up and down, grumbles slightly before taking the money from you.

The rope opens and you smile before stepping through into the dark. It’s loud inside already, the lights contrasting the slight evening colors from outside. You look around before you spot the team and walk over to them.

“Hey!!!” they exclaim and then you’re being handed a glass, cheering the night as everyone drinks it down.

It’s tequila, stings in the back of your throat and you cough before wiping your mouth, “God, I haven’t had this in so long.”

“See that’s why we needed you out tonight,” one of them goes, checking your shoulder with theirs. You laugh before agreeing and order your drink of choice, chiming into the conversation.

It’s going so well, the night seems to be twinged with good vibes. You feel nice and loose, arm draped over your nearest friend as you two sway at the songs playing.

There’s a commotion at the door and you guys turn towards the bouncer only to see people scuffling around, pushing to get closer.

“Hey dude! I’m playing tonight. Musical guest here!!!” comes a loud voice, and it rings familiar in your head. It’s faint, digging somewhere into the back of your mind and you get on your tip-toes trying to see.

“Fuck you,” someone else spits and it echoes around the club.

The crowd splits open then, and you get a glimpse at old friends, adjusting their hats as they stalk across to the stage.

Rook’s fuming as he walks past you, and you spot the tell-tale crease on his face, the grit of his teeth. It scares you, the memory of it all after late night game losses, the way he would blow a gasket about cheating.

Slim and Baze wander behind him, they seem cooler, always are, but the anger is brimming under and you look away as they pass you.

AJ isn’t there and you guess he’s already in the club. He’s always been the sensible one, stable and ready to take control of the situation when it inevitably turns bad.

Colson’s following the rest but his eyes are on the crowd, hand going out to meet people, smiling at everyone. There’s a faint cut on his lip, blood trickling out and you want to scream at him. He comes up around to where you’re standing, and you step back, let your coworkers high five him as he passes.

He doesn’t see you, it’s better that way.

You order up another drink, ignore the whispers of the pesky rapper as they fill up the air around you. He’s well known here apparently, people aware of him in the scene. They mumble about the fights, the way he never seems to show up without a cut or bruise.

You take a shot, sip at the alcohol, smile fading as your coworker ravishes on about how good looking the musician is.

It takes about twenty minutes, and then the music shuts off. There’s a squeal of microphone feedback and everyone around you ducks, hands rushing up to cover their ears.

“Fuck,” a mumble comes across the sound system.

There’s another shuffle and your friend grabs your arm, pulling you closer to the stage. There’s already people there, milling around, clutching drinks and you try to stay on the sidelines, out of view.

“We should go closer,” he determines and then you’re being pulled forward again, swimming around in the second row.

Colson is standing front and center in all his glory. The shitty lighting makes him glow, and he looks big, energy filling him up. He pulls the mic off the stand and steps back before going, “Afternoon. We are Machine Gun Kelly.”

The name isn’t familiar. You don’t know it and quite frankly, it doesn’t place anywhere either but that’s all you get before the music starts up. It’s weird, a pace you don’t expect from him and then he’s off, singing with a grit in his voice, fingers flying across a guitar draped over his shoulder.

Everyone seems to bob along in the crowd and you do too, losing yourself in the way he sounds, the tone of his voice as he croons. The music is great, drums harsh and strong, guitar loud behind the vocals.

The set’s over quick and you’re slightly sweating by the end of it. He thanks the crowd before jumping off stage, and you immediately retreat back to the bar, anxious to steer clear of him.

Even in your drunken state of mind, it’s a bright red flashing light: Stay away from Colson. Stay away from the guys.

You switch to water for a while, try to stop your head from spinning with the lights. Everyone you came with is somewhere on the dance floor, so when an arm drapes on your shoulders, you freeze up, still facing the bar.

“Hey,” and then you’re looking up at Slim’s face, sweaty and eager.

“Slim,” you breathe out, vice in your chest loosening at the fact that it isn’t Colson. You don’t know why this is better, but it is.

“What’re you drinking?” he asks, hand going up to call over the bartender.

You don’t have the heart to say water, know that he’ll laugh and then get you a beer, so you murmur, “Get me a shot of vodka?”

His smile widens and he shouts the drink order over the counter before dropping his arm, “You sipping the hard stuff now?”

Shaking your head, you respond, “I’ve always drank the hard stuff.”

“Yeah, back when we hung out,” he slips into the banter, and your heart stops. You didn’t realize it had hurt them this bad, that months later, drunk and high off of a good show, Slim still manages to bring it up, voice tightening slightly.

“Look, I’m sorry about all that. I really am,” you start, but then he’s passing you the drink and locking arms.

“Cheers,” he says and you clink your shot glass against his, tipping it back.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out but he throws you a look.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says and then he’s shouting out, “Yo Kells!”

It clicks into place then, the Machine Gun Kelly. It’s his nickname, has been for years apparently since he was rapping in middle school hallways, but he’d always introduced himself as Colson to new friends, let them decide whether the Kells fit him or not.

You hadn’t called him Kells once, in the months of knowing him, had laughed about it a couple of times with Domi, who loved to mock it any chance she could.

“You stalking me?” Kells sleazes out, there’s already a drink in his hand, someone following him around with bright eyes.

“No,” you state, moving away from the counter. The red lights are in full effect, this could end up terribly.

“Seems like it,” he sums up, coming in closer to lean against the bar. His lip is still cut, looks swollen as he approaches you.

“You fucked up your lip,” you state, mind cursing at the lack of filter you seem to have around your best friend’s ex.

“What?” he goes, and then his fingers are rubbing at the fat lip, eyes scrunching, “Guess I did.”

“Well it was nice to see you again,” you try.

“I just got here, you leaving already?” he murmurs, brushing off the person following him.

Slim’s moved to the other end of the bar, Rook’s throwing you a glare.

“Don’t think your friends want me around,” you nod over.

He turns his head and makes some kind of motion. Rook drops his eye contact, head going to duck at the bar. Slim smiles.

“They don’t know what’s good for them,” he mumbles, head turning back. His fingers tap at the bar, and there’s a beer appearing. He smiles at the bartender.

“I’m good for them?” you scoff, there’s a hint of bitterness at your tone, but it’s not directed exactly at them. It isn’t their fault.

“Always have been. The good influence when we would try and do stupid shit,” he says thoughtfully. He’s almost as drunk as you, eyes slightly red.

You laugh at that, “You’re always doing stupid shit. Great set by the way, impressed the fuck out of me.”

“You didn’t expect it?” he says as if you were supposed to have known all his songs by heart.

“I haven’t heard any of your music,” you honestly reply.

“Not even the mixtapes?” he seems shocked.

“No, Domi never sent them to me and you all just assumed so,” you stop yourself, falling into dangerous territory.

At the name drop of his ex, he winces a little, “God she was a fucking head-case.”

“Hey that’s my best friend you’re talking about,” you shout a little too loud. You catch Slim slamming a hand onto Rook’s shoulder. The air becomes stifled.

“Sorry,” Colson offers, taking a long, pointed sip.

You sigh, “Don’t be. She can be a little much sometimes. I’m sorry for how it all ended.”

“You should hang with us tonight,” he calmly says, switching the subject. Your breath catches in your throat.

“I don’t know-“ you start.

He cuts you off, “I get it. If you want, we’ll be here for a while. Find us.”

That’s all you get and then he’s walking towards the gang, slipping into the crowd. You drop your head onto the shell covered bar, groaning out.

The night dwindles down, your coworkers trickle out, slamming messy kisses on your face before walking out. You’re left by yourself soon enough and there’s a pulsing in your head, matching the music vibrating under your shoes.

It doesn’t take long to decide. You want to hang out with Colson and them, with Machine Gun Kelly. It’s a bad idea, you can tell before you’ve even fully determined it, but it’s as if fate’s lined everything up for you. It’s gonna happen.

You push away the nagging thoughts, wander around the club trying to find someone, coming up empty. Everyone seems to have left and you roll your eyes before stepping out yourself. Maybe fate doesn’t want this to happen.

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, you spot Rook across the street, blunt in hand. He hasn’t seen you, looking down at his shoes but you know him well and if he’s around it means the others are close by.

You brace yourself, work up some form of courage and walk over. He looks up at the sound and there’s immediate dislike flashing across his face.

Out of everyone, Rook’s been the most temperamental. You’d thought it was going to be Colson at first glance, but were quickly proven wrong by his friend, by the harshness of his demeanor at times. He doesn’t hide his feelings, and while you respect that, you’re also intimidated by his posturing.

“Hey Rook,” you mumble.

“Y/N,” he bluntly states.

“How have you been?” you try, but immediately know it’s the wrong thing to say.

“Cut the shit. What’d you want?” he bites out, eyes hard.

“Was wondering if I could catch a ride with you guys?” you question.

AJ usually drives them around, his black van large enough for the gang, and his self control strong enough to stay sober. You don’t know if it’s changed since the last time everyone hung out, but you’re hoping it hasn’t for the sake of your almost empty metrocard.

“Why’d you think we drove here?” he’s shrugs, giving you a hard time, and you shake your head wondering if your pride is worth this.

“Never mind dude,” you turn around but then he’s groaning behind you.

“Yeah we’ll take you back home. Kells’ kill me if I let you walk around here drunk. C’mon,” he says and you try to hide your smile as you follow him.

He takes a few more hits before tossing his blunt to the ground, and you’re glad he hasn’t offered you any. It would be too forgiving of him, too close to what you all used to be, and you wouldn’t know what to do if it came to that. Domi would kill you, hell she’d kill you if she knew you were getting into a car with them right now.

He stops in front of the familiar van, opens the door with force and everyone’s shouting inside, clambering over each other. You almost smile at the chaos, the familiarity of it all.

“Y/N!” Colson’s shouting and you do smile then. He slumps over long limbs and comes over to the door, reaching his hand out to you.

“You coming with us?” he asks and you nod before Rook mutters, “She needs a ride home.”

Colson purses his lips before looking back over at you, hand still outstretched, “Yeah, c’mon in. AJ got you.”

It’s late, later than you should be out and there’s a reminder that Domi’s waiting for you back home, wants to hear about your night. Your resolve flickers the minute his hand wraps around yours.

He tugs you in the van, and you follow, stepping in before they all scatter around, making enough space. There’s another girl with them, someone you don’t remember meeting or knowing but she smiles at you and curls into Rook’s side.

The music in the van is almost as loud as in the club, filling up the space. You wonder, not for the first time, how AJ drives like this, how he casually sings along, fist bumping the rest of the guys after a song.

Before you know it, there’s a blunt being passed around. Colson skips you on the first round, and you try not to let it hurt, remind yourself that you’ve stung them harder than this, hurt them worse.

He leans into your space after handing it off, whispers, “You still don’t smoke right?”

There’s a painful twist in your stomach at his question. When you all first met, you wouldn’t smoke blunts with them, hesitant about the strain and Domi’s eyes on you. She hated weed, despised the smell and would always remind you of that fact before you’d all spend the night out.

After the breakup, she’d loosened up on that, didn’t care if you smoked out on the fire escape, and sometimes even joined in, it was weird. Weirder than the fact that Colson somehow remembered all this months later.

“I do,” you whispered back, licking your lips, “smoke I mean.”

“Oh,” he softly says and then the blunt’s coming back around. He barely takes a hit before handing it off to you, pushing your hand slightly with his fist.

“Thanks,” you mumble, smoking it in. It’s strong, brings an immediate rush. You close your eyes.

When you open them, Colson’s too close to you. The red lights flash hard in your head and then the car’s stopping in front of their building.

You don’t even hesitate, “Is it wrong if I come up with you?”

His eyes look into yours, it’s quiet enough that you feel the weight of your statement sink in. This is bad, so bad.

He doesn’t say anything but everyone around you is moving, pulling off instruments and slamming doors. He carefully takes your hand, pulls the blunt out from your other one.

“AJ, we’re gonna chill for a while,” he says, towards the front seat, giving him the blunt. There’s a hum and then he’s opening the door, pulling you out just as he’d pulled you in.

For a second, you hesitate and then you’re falling into him. His arm wraps around your hips, pulls you back up on the sidewalk.

“You okay?” his voice is quiet, the world still moves around you both but it feels like you’re the only two people who matter.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Wanna go home?” he says, and the words hit you for a second before you shake your head.

“No, this is cool,” you tongue out.

You’re both walking into the building then, satisfied with your answers. The manager gives you a once over at the front desk but that’s all before Colson’s thumbing the elevator button.

“What about everyone else?” you murmur.

He looks at them unloading the van and lets out a laugh, fingers tightening slightly against yours as he shakes, “They’re gonna be busy a while.”

You laugh back, try to tamper down the feeling of seeing him full-body laugh for the second time that day. The elevator dings and you step in, he follows.

It’s the same damn elevator as it was six months ago, but there’s something different in the air right now. It’s staticky, thrumming through you and it feels like you’re stumbling right on the edge of something.

The doors close, it’s just you and him. The feeling gets stronger, his fingers loosen against yours. You grip harder and he looks up straight into your eyes.

The door dings open again and he huffs a little, “Forgot to click the button.”

You smile but it feels thin. Your brain is flashing wrong, flashing red, screaming Domi’s name, but your heart is racing, pounding against your chest.

You screw your eyes shut.

He hits the button, the elevator starts going and you step closer to him. His back is against the elevator wall and there’s a calm look on his face, but you can tell he’s nervous, can feel it in the clamminess of his palm where it’s sticking to yours.

“I’m going to kiss you,” you blurt and you don’t even have time to regret the words before he’s pushing into you, lips finding yours within seconds.

They’re warm and softer than you expected. He lets out a groan as you kiss back, and you’re reminded of his cut, the swollen lip he’s sporting now. You move back, rest your forehead against his.

“Sorry, your lip,” you attempt to explain, but he shakes his head, forehead sliding across yours, twisting it.

“I like it,” he mumbles and you smile before kissing him again, feeling his arm wrap around you, pull you closer.

It’s the first time you’ve kissed him, he’s strictly off limits, a forbidden idea, but it feels like everything has suddenly fallen into place. The warning signs dissolve into bursts of serotonin as he makes little sounds, pressed up with your mouth.

The door dings open. You break apart and step out. Is kiss drunk a thing, or are you losing your mind? He grins at you, pulls your joined hands up for a soft kiss brushing on your knuckles.

Your heart flutters right then. If you’re losing your mind, you’re glad it’s with him. Dealing with the aftermath is something you’ll do later, so you push all thoughts of Domi and her complications aside and follow him straight into his apartment, consequences be damned.

taglist: @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @findingmyths @rosegoldrichie @mayaslifeinabox @itjustkindahappenedreally @hnbtx @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @sophroniaa @enchantedamusedslightlyconfused @calum-defense-squad

#sorry <3 #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly fluff #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly fanfiction #mgk fanfic #mgk lockscreen #mgk smut #colson baker x reader #colson baker fanfic #colson baker fluff #colson baker fanfiction #colson baker smut #mgk headers #machine gun kelly smut #m writes 4 mgk

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bronanlynch · 4 years ago

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weekly (monthly?) media roundup

ok so I do want to actually do these on some sort of schedule but unfortunately, as you already know, brains,

listening: Malice in Wonderland by Fangbanger, which I found from a tumblr post that described them as band for “if you have a complicated relationship with gender, had a falling out with god, hate the government, or just think that vampires are neat" and y’know? yeah. my notes on this song from several weeks ago are that I might not know any of these people’s genders but I do know they’ve listened to MCR

youtube

reading: the new Cassandra Clare book, Chain of Iron. it’s boring and homophobic. in the first book of this series, we find out that the heroine’s brother is gay and in a relationship with a man who has no intention of ever coming out publicly because 1) the book is set in 1903 in England, it was literally illegal and 2) he’s trying to have a career in politics. the heroine decides that this means he’s ashamed of her brother and doesn’t deserve him, and she is present and active in their breakup conversation.

above is the relationship chart I made from the first book, it really hasn’t changed much except now the main guy and the main girl are married, the lesbians got back together and then broke up again, the main girl’s gay brother hooked up with one of her husband’s friend, who’s a Good Gay and therefore worthy of love unlike the Bad Gay ex who is constantly mocked by just about every character for. checks notes. caring about appearances and manners given that his life and career are based on those things. the brother and his new love interest break up because the brother still thinks he’s a bad person for ever having dated his ex. also the main girl has now platonically run off to Paris with her husband’s platonic soulmate who is allegedly in love with her but it’s really unconvincing that he’s not actually in love with her husband (he’s not for very stupid lore reasons, the whole ‘parabatai are magically prevented from being romantically in love, except for these two straight people, when historically parabatai pairs were two men’ makes my fucking blood boil)

you might ask why I still read these books even though they make me angry and the answer is the 1) the aesthetic slaps 2) some of the characters are fun 3) the premise has enough potential that it could be good if it was good 4) sometimes I need to get cathartically angry abt bad fiction bc it just. does not matter

watching: so many things that I’m gonna just. run through them real quick

Word of Honor: gestures vaguely at how it’s slowly taking over my blog

Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty: love a found family, eh about the politics, can’t believe I predictably got a new fave character within the last two episodes of the show because one of the main characters is betrayed by his second-in-command and I think treason is the sexiest part of a relationship

SamBucky show: in the original draft of this post I said that it was so boring that week (episode 3) that I completely forgot about it until I saw the draft below this one talking about how bad and boring it is. at least more happened in later episodes and they’re finally giving me some tasty queerbaiting but the premise and the politics are. wow. it sure is military propaganda

My Hero Academia: new season is fun, love a tournament arc. don’t love that they tell us right away that the double agent character is a double agent, it was more fun in the manga when you’re not sure if he’s a traitor or not for a pretty long time

Welcome to Demon School, Iruma-kun: new season is cute, there sure is some gender happening. there’s a tsundere bisexual catgirl

Backflip!!: I usually avoid high school sports anime for backstory reasons but my roommate wanted to watch it with me and oh boy these gymnasts sure are gay for each other huh

Joran: The Princess of Snow and Blood: my roommate pitched this to me as ‘cyberpunk but in the 1930s’ and there sure is dark lighting, lots of glowy neon stuff, and government oppression, which are the most important elements of cyberpunk apparently. not sure how I feel about it yet, because there’s a cool shapeshifting lady assassin with a revenge quest but there’s also a trans character who was revealed to be trans in a way that I personally did not enjoy. yes you can have transphobic villains but like. hmm. maybe the audience shouldn’t find out that someone is trans because the villain cuts his shirt away specifically to ~put him in his place. or maybe I personally am just sensitive to that but either way no thank you

on the other hand, the main character is sick as shit

The World Ends with You: god I love an anime about the power of friendship. I’ve only had these kids for two episodes and I would lay down my life for them

Nirvana in Fire: we’re only three episodes in and I did spend the first half of the first ep being like. oh god which of these people are actually important who am I supposed to care about here. and then by the end of the first ep I knew which ones I cared about and am now very afraid for their safety. do love the political intrigue though

playing: got through the first mission of Brigmore Witches. I love a good undercover mission, I wish I hadn’t been too afraid of like. alarms going off if I freed the other prisoners because I think Comrade Daud should do a jailbreak, and Lizzy Stride can call me anytime

also recently have played various ttrpgs including Firebrands, more Things, Eldritch and Terrifying, Link, and of course more Beam Saber (oh shit I meant to do my recap post for last session OOPS)

making: Zan and I made some real good chicken parm the other night, vaguely based on this recipe. by which I mean, we looked at the recipe to see how many eggs to use and how long to cook it and pretty much nothing else. the egg marinade step seemed unnecessary and I made the sauce the way I always make tomato sauce, which some day I should write down because it does in fact fuck. the secret is a shit-ton of oregano and basil and no chunks of tomato because fuck that. bad texture

Zan made the zucchini which also slapped, using some of the leftover bread crumbs

writing: I’ve posted a couple of things but most recently I wrote some rarepair femslash. this is the first fic for this ship on ao3 and the second ship in the f/f tag for this fandom that’s actually about the women in the show (as opposed to showing up in the f/f tag because it’s marked as “multi” or like. genderbent versions of the main m/m ship) but like. look at them. they’re terrible evil assassin women and they’re in love. anyway I’ve gotten over being embarrassed about having written a sex scene and moved on to wanting people to read my fic. there’s sparring as foreplay it’s a good time

#dreaming.txt #tuesday no problem extended universe

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

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Imagine Exes being Friends (Branjie)- Aurora2

A/N: Hey Guys! This is my first fic that I’m submitting here. I would really appreciate any feedback. This is based on the night of the show at Mickey’s at the end of Drag Con weekend (in case you didn’t guess, I wrote this several weeks ago lol.)

‘I’m not going to Aruba.’

Vanjie spun around. ‘What?’

They were in the dressing room of Mickey’s. Brooke had just come off stage and Vanjie was preparing to join Silky and A’keria for the Dreamgirls number.

‘Don’t worry, you’re still going. I’ll just give you the other ticket and you can bring someone else. Bring Silky, she brought you to Hawaii. Or your mom, she’d love it.’ Brooke said this all extremely quickly without taking a breath, and was exhausted by the end of it.

Vanjie was for once, lost for words. She stared slightly slackjawed at Brooke, who was fiddling with her hair and refusing to look at her.

‘Did I do something wrong?’

Brooke spun around. ‘No of course not. I travel way too much, I don’t need it.’ She still wouldn’t look Vanjie in the eye.

Vanjie decided not to push it. Brooke was probably tired, It had been a long weekend.

‘Maybe you’ll even meet someone there.’ For reasons unknown to Brooke, she was still talking, without stopping to think. She needed to stop drinking. Again.

‘Probably some rich guys. He’ll definitely have more than post-its.’

Both queens froze. The only sound was the club music thumping above them. Then, a creaking as Vanjie slowly turned around in her chair.

‘B…. I already told you… I know I shouldn’t have said that..’

‘It’s ok. It’s a good line. Everyone loves it,’ Brooke rambled bitterly.

It was true, Everyone loved that line. Everyone was so proud of Vanjie for standing up to the fuckboy who wronged her.

‘I told you, emotions are high, people are gonna get over it…’

‘Easy for you to say..’

‘The fuck is that supposed to mean?’

Vanjie was on her feet now, prepared to square off. Brooke spun around, tears pouring down her face. This sight stopped Vanjie in her tracks.

‘Everyone loves you. Its so fucking easy to love you. You’re funny and wild and caring and sweet. Im just the cold cunt who’s too selfish to give you the fairytale you’ve always wanted.’

Vanjie opened her mouth but Brooke couldn’t stop. Every message, every threat, every point, whisper and smirk as she visited Vanjie at her booth. Every bitter thought from the last 3 days was pouring out of her like lava.

‘I know I have commitment isues, but there was more to it than that. You knew that, but you let me take all the blame.It doesn’t matter what actually happened or that we know we’re cool. Everyone thinks I’m just taking advantage of you and leading you on.’

‘You’re going to one of the biggest fucking stars in Drag Race history.I’m never going to be anybody but the bitch who broke Vanjie’s heart.’

Vanjie’s mouth fell open.

Brooke suddenly became aware that Morgan was standing in the door.Shit. She ran to the other side of the room, pretending to look for her phone. She heard Morgan telling Vanjie to get sidestage for her number. She heard Vanjie leave. She waited. She waited a lot longer than she would’ve liked. Eventually, she heard Morgan leave.

Crossing back to her dressing table, she found a hastily scribbled note.

‘Hey bitch, I know you don’t want me to pry right now. If you want to slip out the back you can. Don’t worry about the last number I know you wish me the best birthday ever. Please text when you feel better so I know you’re ok. M.

For all the reputation of her being a bitch, Morgan was truly one of the kindest queens Brooke had ever known.

Brooke grabbed her makeup, her bag and her boy clothes. And ran.

It was after 3 by the time Brooke made it back to her hotel, having wandered aimlessly around the city. Of all the people she expected to see sitting outside her room, Vanjie wasn’t one of them.

‘Can we talk?’

Brooke shrugged in response. If Vanjie was willing to talk to Brooke after she’d yelled at her, she probably couldn’t make things any worse.

Instead of sitting on the bed, they both ended up sitting cross-legged on the floor facing each other.

‘I’m so sorry.’ Vanjie opened her mouth to protest, but again, Brooke kept talking. ‘Whatever fans are saying to me online, is not your fault. you just said what you felt, I made you feel that way…’

Vanjie finally held up her hand to bring Brooke’s rambling to a stop. 'B… its not your fault either. It 'aint fair of me to just expect The Notebook from you.And the post-it thing… I don’t even know what the fuck was sayin. I shouldn’t have said it…’

'We shouldn’t have said any of it,’ Brooke mumbled. Vanjie’s head snapped up. Brooke looked at her with a small smile. 'We don’t owe the fans or Rupaul any details about us or our relationship. we should’ve refused to answer or at least said it was private.’

Vanjie nodded silently. They sat in silence. Vanjie crawled over to Brooke and snuggled in to her, head into her shoulder, as they had done so many times. This should feel weird, make them want to tear each other’s clothes off… but it doesn’t.

'We’ll be ok,’ Vanjie whispered. 'The reunion brought up weird emotions but… we’re cool, right?’ She almost sounded worried.

But Brooke was smiling now. 'Of course. We’re friends right now.. and that’s ok. We’ll deal with the future when it happens.’

They sat in comfortable silence, until Vanjie piped up. 'Y'know what’d be funny?’ When we’re on the bus tomorrow, we’ll sit as far apart as we can, the fans will fuckin freak…’

As they deviously planned to make the fans explode, the energy between Brooke and Vanjie was comfortable. They weren’t a couple anymore.. but they didn’t need to be.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #angst #fluff #canon compliant #aurora2 #concrit welcome #admin note - there's already an aurora on the site so I've tagged you as aurora2 - let me know if you want me to change it #submission #tour fic #s11

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dolanswhore · 6 years ago

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Masterlist.

updated: 10/6 **decided to make a new post, the other one wouldn’t go in my bio **

⌲ Grayson Dolan :

nsfw alphabet

fluff alphabet

Real feelings. ↠ what happens when your ex-boyfriend of a month comes into the cafe you work at, and realizes he made this biggest mistake of his life.

My Girl. ↠ Grayson and Y/N are friends with benefits for while, what happens when she’s ready to tell him about her feelings but soon changes her mind.

Broken Promise. ↠ Mob!Grayson’s job has kept him away for weeks now, the house and you grew lonely together, he finally comes home and thinks there’s nothing wrong with it, and worst of all broke his promise.

Hair. ↠ Sometimes the twin’s hair gets in the way what happens when you help gray out? *sMUT*

Sweetest. ↠ this is a cute small blurb i thought of with mob!gray Basically Gray is this bad ass gangster, who care for no one except himself and you. This is him being the sweetest to you, when no one least expects it.

Undying love. ↠ Mob Gray can’t help but be protective, and hates when you don’t listen to him, but no matter what the situation but when he sees your face he forget why he was mad to begin with.. **Very short but i thought it was so cute**

Trick or Treat. ↠ this is just a lil drabble about grayson taking his kids trick or treating.

“Don’t Die.” ↠ 6. “You can’t die, don’t die.” Mob!Gray having to go away for a few days because of his mob business, after taking a two month break because he was shot. You fear is death.

Baby Fever. ↠ Gray has baby fever and asks you for a baby, but you think it’s too soon, and he throws a fit over it and get really upset.

Appreciation. ↠ mob Grayson coming home after three days away on business, seeing you asleep, daughter curled up along you, him realizing how lucky he actually is.

The Destroyer. ↠ The life of being a notorious gang leader is starting to catch up with grayson. What happens when he ruins the one good thing he has in his life? ↳ Part 2.

I’ll be here. ↠ this is kinda based off this blurb! Gray takes care of a very drunk you :)

Mornings. ↠ A blurb about morning sex with grayson

⌲ Ethan Dolan :

nsfw alphabet

fluff alphabet

UFC Fights. ↠ Ethan get MAD when he sees Y/N knocked onto the ground during the brawl at UFC fight and only she can calm him down. its not too long like a blurb :)

Stitches. ↠ Y/N is a nurse only about a week into her new job, and is assigned her first room with no shadowing, What happens when it turns out to be a twin that was in a motor cycle accident?

Silent Treatment - head cannon ↠ how ethan gives you silent treatment, and how you give it as well.

missing you. ↠ going to school in a different state where your boyfriend lives in tough, but he’ll never let you forget how much he miss you.

Stress. ↠ ethan hates when you give him the silent treatment, it has to be one of his only weaknesses in the world, usually he doesn’t get so mad at it, but with all the stress he’s been feeling lately he explodes.

Best part of me. ↠ promt no. 53. “You’re the best part of me.” & 54. “I adore you.” Late night talks with Ethan (i wrote this like 3 weeks ago, but didn’t really think it was good enough to post but here we go!)

My Girl. (COMING SOON) ↠ ethan and y/n have been friends with benefits for a while, what happens when shes ready to admit her feelings and Ethan does what he does best, push people away.

⌲Preferences:

bad days.

angry.

cuddling.

nicknames.

mornings.

late nights.

Jealous.

Riding them. *smut*

⌲ series:

Untitled. ↠ There were stories of the devil that haunted the woods that went back on for years. No one dared to step foot in the woods, until one day Y/N wants to prove her friends wrong.

#grayson dolan imagine #ethan dolan imagine #the dolan twins imagine #the dolan twins

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horansqueen · 6 years ago

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BabyGirl 5.0

NOTES:

♥ this is based on a concept i received a few weeks ago and ppl asked that i made a story with it. ♥ i planned 3-4 long parts but i think it’ll be 8-10 short parts ♥ 3.8k. fluff. ♥ there may be smut but i doubt it and IF it happens it wont be as explicit as my other smut works. ♥ i didn’t proofread and if you read my stuff you know i never do because im a lazy ass. ♥ i am not totally happy with this chapter, but i hope you guys like it. Thank you so so much to those of you who still read this story. It means so so much that you gave this a chance and stuck to it as readers. thank you times a million! btw im sorry this is a bit late!! ♥ if you have any questions please dont hesitate.

♥ PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4

5.0 ♥ GUILT TRIP & FIREWORKS ♥

HIM

"Mommyyyyyy!"

The yell coming from the living room made my lips curl and I took my hand away slowly, looking up in her eyes. She chuckled and we left everything behind to walk to Chelsea who was searching through the dvds. I glanced back, not liking the fact that we didn't clean anything, but I tried to put my attention back on my daughter as she pulled on a movie, making a few others fall on the sides. She quickly turned to us, her messy hair flying around her face, and held out the dvd to her mom who took a step closer to grab it.

"It's movie time mommy!"

I noticed her face immediately change and I frowned as she looked back up and tilted her head, clearly torn and unsure of what to say.

"We normally watch a movie on Christmas morning." she just explained without sending me a glance. "You're welcome to watch it with us, if you want."

I slipped my hands in my pockets and nodded slowly, a bit unsure of what exactly was happening. All I knew was that this whole morning had changed me. I couldn't believe what being there with them made me feel, and at the same time, I couldn't really explain it. I wanted to stay, and I was happy when she proposed me to. I walked to the couch and took a seat right before Chelsea jumped next to me, making the whole couch shake. She leaned her head against the back of it, a large smile on her lips, as she looked at her mom put the dvd in.

I looked down at her and chuckled at her excitement before I noticed her shirt again. It was an old Ramones white shirt and it made my lips curl into a fond smile, this time. I didn't even look for it, I knew exactly where it was, and i didn't mind. It was not the only thing I forgot at her place and I didn't know if she kept the rest of my stuff but knowing this particular shirt survived through the years was endearing.

I remembered it was my go-to shirt during our lazy sundays, and even if i was always the one who'd put it on in the morning, she was always the one who ended wearing it during the afternoon. The first few times were coincidences, but after a while, I did it on purpose. I loved the way she looked in my clothes, but this shirt in particular meant lazy weekend sex and although it felt a bit weird to see it on a kid, it was also an incredible memory I cherished. And it suddenly hit me. That time we actually 'made' Chelsea was probably one of these mornings and seeing her wearing it now had an even deeper meaning.

"Have you ever listened to the Ramones?" I asked my daughter, grabbing the shirt between two fingers, near her shoulder, pinching it up slightly before letting it fall back.

She looked down at her shirt and then back up in my eyes, shaking her head slightly as she stared at me. For some reason, it made my heart twist and I sent her a smile.

"I didn't know what it meant." she admitted, tilting her head.

I chuckled low and licked my lips, bending down slightly.

"It's a good band." I explained.

She stared at me a bit longer and frowned.

"Are they on spotify?" she asked, making smile more. "Mommy and I, we have a playlist with our favorite songs."

"They are." I answered with a laugh.

The movie started and we both turned to the television. Chelsea let out a loud "Yes!" and I glanced at the dvd box on the coffee table. I felt my heart skip a beat when I read the title and licked my lips as a bunch of questions appeared in my mind. "Smallfoot" was clearly visible, even upside down, and when I finally looked up, my eyes met my ex girlfriend's. She sent me a shy smile before getting up and sitting on the other side of me. I didn't know why she didn't sit next to our daughter but I was too surprised by my daughter's movie choice to ask about it.

"It's Chelsea's favorite movie." she explained in a low tone. "Louis brought her to see it at the movies and when she came back, she begged for me to buy it."

I turned to her and noticed her lips curl immediately into a fond smile. I did the same and just nodded as I heard the movie play near us. Chelsea laughed and then talked with the characters, quoting them before laughing again.

"Did you tell her..."

"No." she cut me in a whisper. "I didn't tell her that her father wrote and sang a song in it. I just... I didn't know how."

I nodded slowly, not really surprised, but kept staring at her. She was close, almost too close, and I was suddenly aware of her arm and thigh pressed against mine. I cleared my throat and swallowed, trying to think about something else.

"For someone who doesn't like getting into other people’s business, it seems like Louis gets in ours a lot." I pointed out, making her laugh.

"Tell me about it." she agreed, raising her nose up in a grimace.

"Hush you two!"

We both jumped and turned to Chelsea who sent us an annoyed look, frowning at us. We waited until she turned back to the tv and looked back at each other, holding a laugh. I couldn't believe I was laughing with my ex girlfriend after so long and I enjoyed it more than I wanted to admit to myself.

"I'm gonna go wash the dishes, you can stay here with Chelsea." She murmured, getting up.

It only took me half a second to get up too and follow her to the kitchen. I glanced at Chelsea who was singing one of the songs in the movie and looked at the screen, smiling slightly. It was making me happy that my daughter enjoyed that movie, even if she didn't know her father had something to do with it.

I grabbed a towel and started drying the dished she finished washing. We remained silent, glancing at each other from time to time and trying to ignore it whenever our fingers would touch. It still felt electric, and I started thinking that if it was not from that big fat lie she managed to keep for five years, we could have a chance. This time, I wouldn't be so stubborn. This time, I would really give her all of me. The problem was that every time I thought about telling her how I felt, I remembered the fact that she robbed me from over four years with my own daughter, and that was something hard to forgive.

"So, that's what it would be like."

I turned to her, getting out of my own thoughts, and frowned. She sent me a sorry smile and tilted her head slightly as I put the towel on the counter, moving my body to face her without really realizing it. She did the same and leaned her hip against the counter, licking her lips. Her eyes met mine again and she sighed in a sad way, making my heart twist.

"That's what it would be like to be a family." she explained in a lower tone, as if she was ashamed. "You, me, and Chelsea."

I felt myself tear up at her words but swallowed my pain quickly, my eyes roaming quickly on her face. I hadn't thought about it but it was true, that's what our life would be like if we had gone through all of this together, as a family.

"Well right now we'd probably be with my family in Ireland, and we'd have a break at being parents because my mom would definitely take care of Chelsea and entertain her for as long as we'd be in her house." I added, smiling fondly at the thought. "And I'd lock the door of my old room and make love to you lazily on Christmas morning."

I watched her as her face changed and she held her breath, probably imagining it the same way I was. It was more of a memory from a few years back but somehow, I had the feeling it would be even better than it used to be. After a few seconds, she blinked a few times and took a step back as if she was trying to push away the thoughts, and me at the same time.

"Well, I guess we'll never know." she just said, turning her back to me and putting the clean dishes in the cabinets.

I watched her for about a minute but when she walked past me, I stopped her, putting myself in front of her and holding her arms gently. She didn't dare to look at me as I let my hands slide down until her hands before finally letting her go.

"I loved you, you know."

It was extremely hurtful to admit it out loud. I had spent years trying to convince myself I didn't have those type of feelings for her, and that losing her hadn't been the hardest shit I had to go through, but here I was now, admitting to her that what we had was more than a fling or some light infatuation. It was real, and she needed to know.

I was just not sure I was telling her for the good reason. Did I want her to know she broke me and that I would have done anything for her? Or did I just want to bring her into a guilt trip she may have deserved?

"I know I ruined it, Niall." she finally apologized in a whisper. "I know it's my fault. But I promise my intentions were good, at first. I didn't want you to give your dream up, and-and I thought you would resent Chelsea and I for holding you back. I-I thought you deserved to do what you like, and to become famous. I knew you were talented, I knew you were meant to succeed. I just... I didn't want us to be what would end it all."

No matter what my intentions were, I had managed to make her feel guilty, and for a reason I ignored, it made something stir in my stomach. Her words were genuine, and although the result was horrible, I knew she didn't mean wrong.

"It still hurt, you know." I pointed out, looking away. "When you wouldn't answer my phone calls and text messages I thought.. I thought it was the only way you found to let me know you didn't care about me, that you never really loved me."

I was bitter, I knew it, but I couldn't help thinking I had every right to be.

"I loved you." she quickly confessed, shutting her eyes tight. "I was... I was in love with you. And leaving you was torture. It was probably the most hurtful thing I had to do in my whole life."

There were so many things she didn't know, and I couldn't tell her. The words were stuck in my throat and I ended up trying to swallow them.

"I'm sorry we misunderstood each other so much that it ended up this way."

We remained silent for a few minutes and I finally sighed, closing my eyes for a while and finally opening them again.

"There's some sort of funfair, for Christmas." I explained, nibbling on my bottom lip. "There are games and shows and it ends with fireworks."

It seemed to take her an incredible amount of courage but she turned her head my way and her lips curled a bit.

"Yea, it's okay, you can bring Chelsea."

My heart was heavy when we looked at each other and I licked my lips, nodding.

"Thanks, but I thought we could all go. The three of us."

HER

I was sorry too, so fucking sorry that it all ended up like this. So fucking sorry that I cheated him of so many memories and time with his daughter. So fucking sorry that I made him think I didn't love or care about him. So fucking sorry that what I thought was the right choice turned out to be a fucking big mistake.

When he proposed we'd go all together, I felt guilty and almost refused, but the way he looked at me brought into me a sensation I hadn't felt in a really long time, one I didn't think i'd ever feel again.

I wanted to be close to him, I wanted to know if he could forgive me one day, and I was ready to do anything to get it.

For once, Chelsea and I were ready on time and when the doorbell ranf on the next afternoon, we both rushed to the door. I was glad my daughter hadn't asked any question about Niall, because I wouldn't have known what to answer. I didn't want to lie to her but at the same time, I wasn't ready to tell her who he really was, and I think he wasn't ready either. Besides, i felt like he deserved to be there when she would find out

The door swung open and Niall's eyes met mine before a surprised expression appeared on his face. He looked good, his hands in his pockets and a long scarf around his neck. He was wearing a beanie and I couldn't stop my heart from skipping a beat. He was dressed casually and It made me feel better for dressing up the same.

"Wow, you guys are ready?" he asked, an amused smile appearing on his lips. "If my memory serves me good, it's not in your DNA to be on time."

I raised my nose in a grimace but sent him a smile, knowing he was right and that I clearly couldn't defend myself. Chelsea rushed to Niall and wrapped her arms around his leg. The look on his face was priceless as he looked down at her, holding his breath in. I was endeared by his reaction and I took a step back to give them more space, even if it was useless.

It was not surprising from Chelsea to hug people, but I could see Niall hadn't expected it at all. When she pulled away, he quickly crouched to her level and sent her a genuine smile that she returned.

"So, Chelsea, are you ready?"

She nodded quickly, her eyes getting bigger with excitement.

"And, is your mommy ready too?"

With a glance at me, she quickly looked back at Niall and nodded again, jumping slightly, barely containing her enthusiasm.

The car ride was quite short and we ended up walking in the streets alongside other people trying to enjoy the fair. The first thing Chelsea asked for were fries but after eating a few, she handed the rest to me and begged for a ride on a carousel.

Niall and I leaned against the fence, both of our phones out, taking pictures every time she would pass in front of us. We hadn't really talked much, and with the discussion we had the day before, I was scared it would become awkward between us.

"Chelsea really likes you." I finally just said, waving back at our daughter again.

"She's incredible." he simply answered, not looking at me. "I know It may sound crazy, but I started loving her as soon as I found out she was my daughter."

I felt my lips curl, understanding the feeling a bit too much. Niall was going to be an amazing father, and I swallowed the guilt invading me once again.

"D'you think it's crazy?" he asked, turning to me, his arms crossed on the top of the metal fence.

His eyes seemed to shine and I shook my head slightly, sending him a smile. I moved a bit closer to him and tilted my head, my hair falling on both our arms.

"No, not at all." I admitted in a whisper.

I felt his fingertips brush gently on top of my hand and hold my breath, staring back at him. These moments seemed to happen so often between us that it was starting to drive me insane. Were we cursed to feel that way around each other forever without being able to get anything more? Was I going to lose him a second time? Once again, by my fault?

"I'm amazed that we actually created... her..."

He sighed and looked down, lost in his thoughts, but all I could focus on was the shivers that ran all over my back as his fingers still grazed on my skin. I wanted to answer, but I just didn't know what to say. He looked back up in my eyes and i licked my lips.

"It's a part of you, and a part of me, and now we will always be linked, you know?" he added, this time taking my hand in his and turning his body gently in my direction.

I nodded again, trying in vain to calm the beatings of my heart. He was close again, so fucking close I could feel his warm breath on my face, and I desperately wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to find out if he tasted the same way he used to, if our lips fit together as well as they used to.

He smiled at me and sighed, finally taking a step back, and watching him back away broke my heart. I tried not to show it but it hurt more than a slap in the face. I don't know what I was expecting anyway. Niall and I have been over for years, and although we had both admitted that what we had back then was real, it didn't mean the love we both felt for each other was still alive. The fact that I lied to him probably didn't help things, and I couldn't blame him for wanting to focus on Chelsea. But I was scared. I was scared to fall in love with him again, and realize that he didn't have these feelings for me anymore. I was scared to see him with an other girl, to suffer from having him so close without being able to really be with him. I was scared I could never find someone else like him, someone I would love as hard and as deeply as I loved him.

"Mommy! It was so cool!"

We both turned to watch our daughter step down from the carousel and run to us. She grabbed my hand with both of hers and shook it hard, making me laugh.

"I want to go again! Please!"

I laughed again but Niall quickly bent down to look in her eyes and answered before me.

"There are many more rides to try, do you want to try this one?"

He pointed behind her and we both looked at the ride with hot-air balloons of different colors that seemed to fly. Chelsea's eyes got bigger and she turned back to Niall, nodding quickly and making him laugh. She grabbed his hand and pulled him with her as I followed them, eating a cold fry.

When Chelsea was sitting in the ride, Niall stood next to me, one of his hands in his pocket as he dug his free one in the punnet i was still holding, grimacing when he noticed how cold the fries were.

"She's so happy to be here." I pointed out after throwing the rest of the foor in the nearest trash can.

"I'm happy too." he pointed out. "I'm happy we're all here together."

I sent him a fond smile. He didn't have to add me, but he did, and it meant more to me than I could explain. I tried to push away the fears threatening to invade my mind again. I had to take it day by day, or else I was going to drive myself crazy.

After winning a pink unicorn for Chelsea in a game, Niall brought us near the river. I held Chelsea's hand tight in mine, a bit scared to lose her in the mob of people surrounding us. I noticed she had gripped Niall's hand too and it made me smile. I felt like things would be easier now that i knew she liked him.

Niall crouched down again and immediately, Chelsea gave him all her attention.

"The fireworks are about to start." he pointed out. "Do you want to get on my shoulders?"

I saw her lips curl and she nodded slowly, waiting for his next move. He placed his hands under her arms and pulled her up easily, moving her so she straddles his neck. She held herself on his head and it made me laugh. His hand grabbed her legs and her head moved back to look at the sky. I felt like a simple witness of a new relationship growing right in front of me and i loved it, every seconds of it. I took my phone out of my pocket and took a picture of them together just as the fireworks started. My lips parted when I looked at the picture, barely believing I got to take a picture like that, especially with a phone. I sent it to Niall quickly and started a video to keep a memory of this moment.

I had no idea how i managed to stay so far away from Niall for so long, but having him around in the past two days had made me feel happy in a way I thought I never would again, and seeing him so kind, patient and sweet with Chelsea was an incredible bonus I hadn't expected. If I could go back in time, I wouldn't hide my pregnancy to him. It brought more bad than good. Unfortunately, it was impossible to start over, and I would never find out what would have happened between Niall and I. We could still save the relationship between Niall and Chelsea, and I intended to do anything I could do to make this work. Chelsea deserved a father like Niall, and Niall deserved to be in his daughter's life. I just hoped that somehow, somewhere, there was also a place for me.

#niall horan #niall horan fluff #niall horan story #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fic #niall horan writing #niall #niall fluff #niall fanfic #niall fan fic #niall fic #niall story #niall writing #my fanfics

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mtvswatches · 6 years ago

Text

Jane the Virgin 1x09 Chapter Nine

Spoilers disclaimer (please read before sending messages or writing comments.)

Stray thoughts

1) This was sad…

NARRATOR: Like I said, Jane never forgot the night she wrote her first short story. It was the same night she learned dreams weren't practical. And so Jane kept hers a secret. But she never stopped dreaming.

I think it’s even sadder because this was a conversation she wasn’t supposed to hear, this message wasn’t supposed to be conveyed to her, you know? But it hit her hard, and even as a young girl, she made the decision to keep her dreams tucked away because dreams were a luxury she couldn’t afford.

2) I’m thinking Jane is the writer who wrote this story. Could the narrator be her own “voice”?

3) Oh, Jane…

JANE: The main character in the story, Lucy, is a feisty, single mom that wears booty shorts and entertains a revolving door of guys.

RAFAEL: Well, I'm sure your mom's got a sense of humor about herself, right?

JANE: There's a line in it that says she puts the "loose" in Lucy.

I wouldn’t publish it either, it would break Xiomara’s heart knowing that this is all her daughter sees in her and that she’s kind of slut-shaming her. Xiomara might not be a traditional mom, and she’s definitely flawed and made mistakes when bringing up Jane, but I truly think she’s a good mom. She loves Jane, and they have a very honest relationship. It is heartbreaking that Jane would boil her down to this.

4) #Rogeliomybrogelio is going to be my hashtag for Rogelio from now on.

5) OMG Paulina Rubio was on this show? Will all the Latin artists be on it? Because I’m here for it!

6) Michael thinks Rafael is Sin Rostro… Hmm. Would this show dare to go there, making its main male lead the Big Bad?

7) WTF Petra!

9) Is everything that comes out of Rogelio’s mouth iconic?

ROGELIO: A hug from Rogelio is like a rabbit's foot. Lucky, rare, and soft to the touch.

10) Why would you leave your hostage alone in the room, Petra? Dumb move. And of course, he’ll learn how to get the cuffs off by watching Rogelio’s telenovela.

11) Michael is cahooting with his shady brother in order to find evidence against Rafael. I’m guessing that won’t end well...

12) And now he’s offering his help to make the whole Petra thing go away. Okay, I’m not hating him this episode. So far.

13) Michael is being helpful and Rafael and Jane are disagreeing pretty much on everything… religion, how to raise the kid, money… Is there going to be a constant love triangle in this show? I mean, I know it is telenovela, and love triangles are a staple of the genre, but I’m not really a fan of them…

14) Mercer stole Rafael’s wallet, of course, he’s still as shady as he was in VM.

15) See why she’s a good mom? Before getting angry, she told Jane how proud she was that she was getting published.

JANE: You were always dating different guys.

XIOMARA: I didn't bring them home.

JANE: Doesn't mean I didn't know about them. And, you know, except for Anthony, no one ever really stuck.

XIOMARA: What do you remember about Anthony?

JANE: I liked him. He was funny, he made me laugh.

XIOMARA: Yeah, he did. And after he broke up with me, you were very sad. Do you remember that? I didn't want that to happen again, so after I kept things casual.

JANE: To protect me?

XIOMARA: Yeah.

16) She is a good mom, fight me.

JANE: I'm not going to sign that publishing consent form anyway.

XIOMARA: I signed it for you.

JANE: What?!

XIOMARA: I am not gonna be the reason that you miss your window.

17) OMG are we getting Magda’s backstory???

Holy shit, that’s some fucked up karma right there! She got acid thrown on her face AND she was run over by a car???

18) Passports, cash, a burner phone… how is Rafael going to explain that one?

19) Is Petra being real, though? I can never tell!!

You think I don't know what it means to struggle? Just like you, it's always been me and my mother. My father was trapped behind the iron curtain during the cold war. When I was a baby, he sent me and my mother off to west Germany. He was meant to follow. For five years, we waited for him. But he couldn't get out. And he died one week one week before the wall fell. I'll never forget that feeling. Losing someone, never getting the chance to know them. That's why I'm fighting for this baby.

I can tell Jane was actually moved, and to be honest, so was I. But I can never really figure out Petra. She doesn’t seem to be completely heartless, but she’s also extremely manipulative and deceitful and she knows how to play people like a fiddle. She definitely plays me!

20) I really hope Michael is not right, but it seems as though he might be…

MICHAEL: But, um, listen, I-I I do want to talk to you about him. Something's going on with him, something shady.

JANE: What? What are you talking about?

MICHAEL: I can't say. But trust me, Jane. I only want what's best for you.

JANE: Rafael said that you had it in for him. I said no.

MICHAEL: Well, there you go. You see, he said that to cover himself in case I said something.

JANE: Michael, stop.

MICHAEL: Jane. Jane, listen.

JANE: No, just stop.

MICHAEL: Something's off with this guy.

21) Who would’ve thought that the one moment Petra was honest would be her downfall?

22) I really hope Rogelio doesn’t win the award and he has an epic meltdown on live TV.

23) And the winner is…

24) Petra and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I honestly expected her to be involved in something darker. She was just a girl escaping from her psychopath ex-boyfriend, and that’s why she’d been paying Ivan. I really don’t know why she didn’t come clean to Rafael, it’s not as if she’d committed a crime. Well, except for identity theft. But it was kind of justified?

25) Xiomara met her Goddess!!

And honestly, based on her sweet words, she deserves to be her Goddess.

26) Same plot structure for these two as in the previous two episodes, how long are they going to do this?

RAFAEL: We're better together.

JANE: Really? Because I think the lesson is, is that we're very different, and there are a lot of things that are gonna come up because of that.

RAFAEL: No. Refer back to my lesson. We are better together.

Exactly the same! They start the episode being all lovey-dovey, then they have a disagreement and they feel the relationship is doomed, and then they reach a compromise and make-up. It’s kind of getting old. And boring. Three episodes in a row!

27) Awww!! Rogelio is all smitten because Jane had bet on him winning the award!

28) And Rogelio used his contacts to get Xiomara what she wants. Again. Am I the only one finding these plots repetitive? Especially when the writers are recycling plots from one or two episodes ago?

29) I really like how Jane encouraged her mom to take a chance with Rogelio.

30) What is up with Rafael?

Or did Mercer (sorry, I’m calling Michael’s brother that because I can’t remember his name) set the whole thing up to mess with Michael?

31) WTF

32) Alba is going to find the fucking hostage, isn’t she?

33) HOLY FUCK!!!

AND I KNEW IT! I KNEW SHE COULD WALK!!

34) I enjoyed some of the twists and turns in this episode, but I feel like the writers are resorting to the same storylines to create conflict among the characters. I hope that is not a tendency and it’s just related to the fact that it is the show’s first season and they were still finding their footing. I do feel quite proud of myself for predicting Magda could walk. But what the fuck, she pushed Alba down the stairs?!!

35) Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi.Thanks!

#Jane the Virgin #Jane Villanueva #Gina Rodriguez #Paulina Rubio #Rogelio De la Vega #Jaime Camil #JTV recap #JTV 1x09 #MTVSwatches

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callmenateybird · 7 years ago

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Depression Never Drove Me To Attempt Suicide; Being Bullied While Depressed Did

I don’t wanna relive my bullying hellscape today but I can’t shake the feeling that people still just continue to blame the brains of suicidal people for any and all suicidal acts.

I’ve experienced depression for a long time. I was lucky that depression alone never led me to a suicide attempt. Being bullied along with being depressed, however, did. I need to use my own experience as an example to get through to people about this today.

Spring 2016: I dated a person I met on The List App (just what it sounds like - a list-making app created by BJ Novak). I went out to CA to be with her for 2 months. She felt it was moving too fast, but didn’t tell me for awhile. Eventually she did, we broke up, I was crushed, I went back to OH to be with family. I whined, I pitied myself, I spoke about the breakup on List.

Eventually, friends of my ex decided this was too much & brought my ex & others into a FB group chat, where they shit talked & mused that I had been manipulative & that I’d threatened self harm.

This was the first in two instances now of upping the ante of false accusation. First, from whining & taking a breakup hard -> manipulation & threats of self harm, then, a year ago right around this time, upping the ante again to “abuser.” More on that in a bit.

Back to 2016 — August, as the group chat began. I had been listing about the upcoming 2 year anniversary of my dad’s passing — Aug 10. On the night of the 9th, my ex’s close friend did what I guess was an accidental like of an old list of mine. At the time, it seemed odd because she wasn’t following me and we’d had conflict with each other on Twitter about a week before.

The next day, it made sense why she’d been far back in my old lists. As I listed about the anniversary of my dad’s passing, parody accounts began to go public.

The first was called Predator. My screen shots here were taken later (I was too upset to screenshot anything the day it all happened) after the name was changed to “Chris, Kay?” to target one List guy these people hated. The original name on the account was “Chrislie K. Veshester” — a mashup of the names of 3 of us from List.

In the second and third screenshots, you’ll see parts of a list. This list has direct excerpts from lists the 3 of us guys had previously posted (gathering lines from old lists the night before…yes, bullies go to great efforts to bully). The writing and recording line, the bravery line, the baggage line, the body is your friend line, the quote of Coyote Hours (an album about the death of my father) — all from me & gleefully twisted into being somehow creepy or wrong.

The line “I try to get others to take care of me” didn’t seem to come from any of us, but seems more to be a line from my ex’s friend’s imagination that reflects how those people saw me in the wake of that breakup.

Also launched that day, in tandem, was the Flounce account (to flounce means to announce that you’re leaving a community, which I had done the night before my dad anniversary, because of what I was going through at the time). I later was told this was created by Jack Waz, an employee of List. The first few followers on the account — my bullies, “Jo-Ann Fabrics” (another parody account by Jack), & even List creator BJ Novak.

Also popping up that day was this dormant “imacreep” account where luckily no new vitriol was added — but you can see, based on the few lists that account had “liked,” that it came from the same group of people.

You can also see, from the few likes on the predator account, that it came from the same group of people.

On Aug 10, I had a nervous breakdown after seeing all of this. The passing of a parent is a deep trauma and, only 2 years out, was obviously very fresh for me. It is an event that is almost sacred in a way, & part of the unhealable scarring of my bullying experience is that this sacred date was snatched away from me, and tainted by this awful social media experience. I now forever associate the day my dad died with being bullied.

On September 1st, an older guy from the group chat sent me an unsolicited harassing email, after being given my contact info by my ex. I had just called her to ask if she would be completing some album artwork she’d promised to do for me around the time of our breakup. I hadn’t heard from her in ages (this was before I knew she was involved in the group chat), so I took one last chance at reaching out about it. In the email from this guy, I was summarily smacked down for “not respecting her boundaries” and told very cruelly by him that she didn’t want to do my art, or hear from me ever again.

In mid September 2016, a former friend told me everything about the group chat. She had been brought into it and pressured/intimidated (by, among others, men in their late 30s — she was in her early 20s, as were a few other women in the group chat) to “provide receipts” of me talking about my breakup. She was forced to “denounce” me and swear she’d never talk to me again.

She named names to me in September and let me know who was involved. I learned that my ex — who had been silent through all the stuff in August — was in the group chat, participated, and watched it all go down. A couple days later, I began a suicide attempt.

The ordeal led to both myself and my mom being hospitalized (she has a heart condition). Thankfully, we both came out of the ordeal ok.

Plenty more vitriol was unleashed on List after August 10th. I was lucky that much of it didn’t involve me (another guy from List got it worse than I did). One older guy from the group chat did a particularly nasty “sublist” and a few other remarks came out here and there, but it seemed to be dying down finally.

Through the fall, I began to find balance again. I returned to List with a new account, and took small steps in standing up for myself.

In November, I confronted my ex about what I knew, in an attempt to make peace. She expressed some regret, but never really apologized in a way that felt adequate to me, nor would she concede that her friends had bullied me and that she had condoned it.

In December, I returned to CA to resume the life I’d begun building when I was dating my ex. I had been dreaming of living in Southern California since the trip to scatter my dad’s ashes there in fall of 2014, and I was using the last chunk of inheritance money I’d gotten to get myself re-established in Orange County.

In January of 2017, I finally realized that my ex was never going to apologize to me for everything, so I launched a text tirade of criticisms her way and stopped speaking to her.

But in the next few months, I faltered in that commitment and sent her three harassing emails. Since the previous fall, I had begun an agonizing habit of digital cutting (creeping on social media that you know is bad for your mental health) and snooped on her accounts, plus those of her friends and family. It is a habit that I have yet to fully shake, even all this time later. The three emails I sent all involved seeing things she’d liked on social media and being angry or jealous about them. I finally stooped to the level of the people who harassed me, and I harassed her. After the final of those three emails, in April of 2017, she wrote back and said she’d file a harassment order if I contacted her again, and I never contacted her again.

But I continued to grow more and more emboldened in standing up for myself publicly, and over the course of 2017 it became a huge part of my social media (especially on Twitter) to speak openly about my experience being bullied, harassed, and ganged up on.

In June of 2017, I was walking in a park in my ex’s town and saw her. A few days later, many of the ladies from List were tagged in a massive Twitter thread. For some reason, a few of us guys from the app were tagged as well. Later that day, my ex’s friend from the group chat - the one who had made the “Predator” account - subtweeted that these List ladies in the mass tagging had “an abuser among [them].” The ante of false accusation had been upped again, from whining and self pity and taking a breakup hard -> manipulation and threats of self harm -> abuse.

This subtweet alone, which I’d only discovered because of my continuing struggle with digital cutting (creeping online), sent me reeling on the verge of another breakdown. I knew that things were heating up culturally, that the imperative to believe women was more important than ever. And now, for the first time, I had to face that dissenting argument from the trolls who don’t like the prioritization of believing women no matter what — “what if somebody falsely accuses someone just to fuck up their life?” But even then, I brought myself back from the brink (with much help from my therapy sessions, my support system of family and friends, my writing, and the good-for-the-soul environment of southern California).

I even had a phone call later that summer with the friend who’d told me about the group chat, where I explained to her that I still acknowledged the importance of believing women, even if I was experiencing a false accusation. I told her that I was trying to hold onto the understanding that the cultural prioritization of listening to and believing women was bigger than me, more important than me.

But I also continued to speak openly about being bullied, and now included the mention of being implied to be an emotional abuser, all through 2017 until finally standing up for myself on social media impacted my real life once more. A few days before Christmas, after a really good period of no digital cutting for the entire month of December so far, I had a weak moment one evening and looked at the social media of my ex and her family. On her mom’s Instagram, I saw a repost from my ex’s private account where she’d said she had gone to the police station to file a report about “a year and a half of harassment, stalking, and general creepiness.” (A year and a half would be going back to right when we broke up - we were still on good terms then - and six months before our friendly if flawed semi-clearing of the air in late 2016). In her mom’s repost, she said “if we see this guy in our neighborhood again, we are coming after him!” I saw this — and hope you will understand my seeing it this way — as a threat of physical harm. If “our neighborhood” meant seeing me on their street, well that was never going to happen. But if it meant seeing me in their whole entire town — like I’d seen her in a park last June — well, what was I supposed to do about being seen in an entire town??

I was terrified, and made a hasty decision two days later (Christmas Eve) to leave my Orange County long term Airbnb about two months before the end of my lease. I struggled for about a month to stay afloat in LA, looking for a new space. But my savings was too low to handle the temporary added expenses of new Airbnbs and hotels, and by early February of 2018 I decided I had to throw in the towel and go back to Ohio to regroup with family until I could afford to be out west again.

And that is my ordeal, to date.

I took a breakup badly, and cried and cried and said “I can’t take it anymore” (the closest I came to “threats of self harm,” as were the initial accusations from the group chat). And all because of taking a breakup badly —

I was ganged up on, parodied, mocked, and bullied on the two year anniversary of the death of my father.

The actual creators/employees of the app where I was bullied - including BJ Novak himself - celebrated and *participated in* bullying me.

I suffered a nervous breakdown.

I attempted suicide.

My mom was sent into the hospital with a heart scare, from watching what I was going through and reacting emotionally as most mothers would.

I drained thousands of dollars from my savings for additional therapy, spiritual counseling, and cross country travel (twice).

I literally left my home because I felt unwelcome and physically unsafe in Orange County, after being threatened with violence by my ex’s mother.

And now I exist in this particular moment on social media, where the valiant and important efforts of the #metoo movement are still sometimes misrepresented by cold statements like “don’t ever fucking tell me that a false accusation ruins a man’s life.”

Even if you set aside my experience of being ganged up on and bullied, of being called a creep for being friends with women who were younger than me in a social media community, of being accused of manipulation and emotional abuse, it should be understandable as a general isolated statement — When we talk about someone’s life being ruined, we have to look at more than just their external life. We have to also look at their internal life.

And rest assured — beyond all the external stuff I just listed, my internal life has been forever impacted by being bullied and by being called “abuser.”

I can no longer say I have never attempted suicide. After years of living with depression and being proud of myself for never giving into the darkest of places, I now have experienced a suicide attempt. I now have experienced being called an abuser. And who knows what else I may experience as repercussions for posting this essay with screenshots and names, since the past two years of interacting with bullies has shown me very clearly that bullies always — ALWAYS — win.

We now live in an age where bullies are empowered by important cultural movements. They sneak in through weak spots, they use amped up language and terms that they know will attract attention. They are stronger than ever.

But the part of the narrative that my bullies and threateners will always leave out of their callouts - their own screenshot exposés of past and possibly future - is the part where they bullied and harassed first. My own instances of email harassment of my ex, my own flawed and self destructive habit of creeping online — these are personal flaws that arose AFTER being bullied. That part of their narrative will always be conveniently scrapped from the record. Bullying proves the age old saying — hurt people hurt people.

And so now, two years after my ordeal began, I try to be mindful that angry statements can verge on harassment, I do less and less digital cutting, I try to be a good person and to value the people who value me.

But when famous people are lost to suicide, and the conversation zeroes in squarely on mental illness and mental health, I just cannot abide the ignoring of so many other cultural factors that lead people to no longer want to live on this planet.

Whether the factors are due to marginalization, systemic oppression, economic hopelessness, ageism, a broken health care system, disease and physical pain, or a bullying ordeal like mine — there are an endless number of external environmental forces that drive people to suicide besides their own pure brain chemistry. And remember, environmental doesn’t just mean places and things — it means people. Many of those external forces that drive people to suicide involve how the people are treated by the others in their environment.

I have experienced depression for much of my life. But it was only being bullied that finally pushed me to the brink. This screenshot below shows the folks from the group chat. Some of them were silent bystanders, but they all watched it go down and did nothing to stop it. They are all complicit.

These are my bullies.

And if I have to live forever with being bullied the day my dad died, with having attempted suicide, with watching my mom go into the hospital, with being called an abuser and whatever else I’ll be called between two years ago and the end of my life, then they will have to live with being called bullies. And even if this post is removed, even if this account is suspended or deleted, I will continue to speak up and speak out when I am bullied or when I see others being bullied. I will not stand for it ever again.

Because all the things those people took away from me left a gaping hole inside me. And, so far, I have only found a couple things with which to sufficiently fill that hole — the understanding of my very loving and supportive family and friends, and love and respect for myself. Standing up for myself is just one of the ways I have learned to love and respect myself, ever since the ordeal that scarred my life forever.

June 12: I decided to add an afterword to this essay, a sort of “FAQ” to address a question I’ve been asked a few times in one form or another.

The question: Do you talk about your bullying experience so much because you want your bullies to feel bullied?

No.

First, "bullying bullies" isn't a thing much like how reverse racism isn't a thing. To be a broken record - to continually expose the bullying act & “Scarlet Letter” the perpetrators - is the only power a bullying victim has, since the act of bullying unfortunately isn't treated like a punishable crime, especially when it’s done online (even though being bullied has robbed me financially and wounded me - and my family - both physically and emotionally).

Second, I talk about this as much as I do because I want the people who bullied me to feel haunted by the consequences of their actions (and inactions, in the case of those who watched and condoned) - actions they probably felt, at the time, were not a big deal. To have spoken about it publicly for almost three years is an effort at making them feel so haunted by their behavior that they not only never bully another person again, but that they *themselves* become dedicated anti-bullying crusaders. It sounds almost laughable - and certainly would to them, as cynical as they are - but I am trying to make a difference in these few peoples’ lives. You can label it crudely as “badgering,” which I feel does a disservice to me by downplaying the severity of what happened to me, but whatever you call my continued persistence in talking about this experience - it is persistence that aims to make a few people more decent and mindful of their past and future behavior.

#bullying #anti bullying #cyber bullying #callout culture #social media

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rylredrants · 3 years ago

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20 Years Ago

It’s been 20 years since that day. And just like I wrote in the only ‘memory’ referencing 9/11 on my Facebook, I don’t want to jump on a bandwagon or soapbox. I don’t want to join the throngs of people answering the question that, for those of my generation, needs no explanation… “Where were you when?”

But I can’t not write today.

For me, the where was easy. I was in Colorado Springs.

To say it’s an area with a large military community doesn’t do justice to the sentiment. The Air Force Academy, Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Stations, Fort Carson Army Post, Peterson Air Force Base, and Schriever Air Force Base are all within an hour’s drive, give or take traffic. My new husband was stationed at Fort Carson, a Cavalry Scout.

My mother called me in hysterics- which was not unusual, waking me up earlier than normal. I was working at the Olive Garden as a server. My daughter was 4 years old.

I got up, took her to daycare, and went to work. There was a TV on the same kind of AV cart we got excited about in school sitting inside the server’s station on one side. We didn’t have customer-facing televisions and this was long before smartphones were in everyone’s pockets.

Another military spouse showed up for her shift, unaware of the events. She turned around to go home. She lived on Fort Carson and didn’t get through the gate for several hours.

That evening, I was part of a small sleepover of sorts where a handful of us “Scout Wives” held vigil together- crying and waiting for some kind of news from our husbands. The post was locked down tight. We didn’t get to hold them in our arms until the evening of September 12th.

The “where” is an easy question.

I think the bigger question is “WHO were you when? And who did you become in the aftermath?

Twenty years ago, I was a 22-year-old newlywed. He was my 2ndhusband- a cute boy in a green uniform with bright blue eyes, a grin for miles, and a quirky little gap between his front teeth. He had deployed to Bosnia straight out of basic training. We met in a bar within weeks of his return to the states, around Valentine’s Day of 2001.

The day the towers fell, he still was not old enough to legally buy a beer.

I had already rebuilt my life once when I left California and split up with my daughter’s father. Our new life was just beginning, but when my mother wailed, “You just married a soldier and we’re going to WAR!” I felt it. I felt my entire life unraveling again.

We moved to Germany the following spring where he was almost immediately sent to Kosovo. It was slated to be a 6-month tour. His replacement unit was sent to Iraq as part of OIF 1, so they extended their mission to 9 months. From there, there were moves back to Colorado, a separation, reconciliation, a move to Texas, and 2 more deployments to Iraq.

By the time we separated, I was 30 years old. We owned a home and he was slated for a third deployment to Iraq. The TBI (traumatic brain injury), PTSD, migraines, and back problems were so bad that he did not deploy, and was medically discharged before his 30th birthday.

We stayed on friendly terms for another decade, but every time I saw pictures of his new life and new wife I felt all of it all over again. He still had the big grin, but the sparkle in his eyes was gone.

That man has his name, his fingerprints, and his DNA but little else remained of the boy I married all those years ago. My husband went to war, but despite coming back upright and without a flag draped over his body, he never came back.

This is one of those things that people outside the military community don’t often realize. Whether or not you wear the uniform, war changes you. Military families deal with their own stress, trauma, loneliness, and fear from having loved ones in a warzone for weeks, months, and sometimes years at a time.

Waiting for that telegraph, knock on the door, or news story that mentions their unit… that part has changed over the years but living in that constant state of dread is the same.

It’s a state of anticipatory grief… waiting for the moment when the grief process will begin and be recognized by those around you.

When the same uniform walks through the door, the rest of the world sees the happiness of a homecoming.

But for so many, that happiness is often quickly replaced with learning who the person wearing the uniform has become in their absence.

New kinds of stress, trauma, loneliness, and fear often follow.

The stress of readjusting to sharing your home. The trauma, packed neatly away in their rucksack spills out all over the floor with their gear. Then comes the loneliness when they isolate and disconnect, and fear that you will become the target of their anger.

When my soldier returned, his drug of choice was video games. I called myself a ‘PlayStation Widow’ because he would spend every waking moment outside of work with a controller in hand, often not getting up to eat, drink or even smoke. His anger was most pronounced in his road rage- yelling, swearing, speeding, and tailgating.

I learned to manage his anger with my tears.

The rage would take hold and I would take responsibility for it, trying to figure out how I could have caused it. ‘What did I do? How can I fix this? What does he need?’ Eventually, I realized that he only calmed down once I’d become so spun up into it that I’d broken down in my own panic.

Over a decade later, when my current partner, Pirate, is struggling with his mental health, my first instinct is still to take responsibility.

It’s only because of the therapy, medication, and communication, on both sides, that I’m able to acknowledge and support him without taking it on as my own.

I swore I’d never get involved with military personnel again when that marriage ended.

What I hadn’t considered is that relationships are often brought about by proximity. I’ve lived near military installations for most of my adult life- Forts Carson, Hood, Meade, and Huachuca stateside, plus 2 years in Germany.

Friends, lovers, 2 ex-husbands, and my current partner have all brought their own trauma-filled rucksacks along with them, and into my life.

They each had their own experiences and their own way of handling things.

Dirty D had a picture on his MySpace of himself crouched down, naked, pistol in hand that was taken shortly before he was hospitalized for holding the gun to his head. I was friendly with his wives and girlfriends, including the one he moved to Idaho with to live off the grid on a hand-built homestead.

Taz was working nights as a bouncer when we met. He was sent to Germany only to be medically discharged and returned to Texas because his body was too damaged from previous trips to “the sandbox” to deploy again.

The Postman shared stories he wrote about his time in Mogadishu, Somalia. You probably know that as the place where "Black Hawk Down" happened. We met while he was on leave from Iraq and he later emailed more stories to me from Afghanistan.

The Mad Scientist once talked about being with his unit early on during Operation Iraqi freedom. Food was scarce so they were only getting one MRE a day. He had a stash of candy bars that he broke small pieces off from to share with the guys in his unit that were struggling the most with hunger.

MM also experienced those lean rations and hunger along with going days on end unable to get clean. The bulk of his PTSD revolved around food and cleanliness.

We once drove over 3 hours to go to a ‘Princess Bride’ themed burlesque show. The venue said they had food, and we didn’t have time to get dinner before going to the theater. When he discovered that the concession stand was closed he had a meltdown, leaving me alone to go get a hamburger at a bar down the block.

Pirate has nightmares, crying out in his sleep and trembling so violently that our bed shakes. He was medically discharged from the Army before his unit deployed. He lives with survivor’s guilt on top of the PTSD he developed as a 5-year-old missionary kid in Kenya during a civil uprising.

And none of this takes into account the first responders, civilians, and all of their families who have been impacted by this.

Here we are 20 years later...

I just saw a video where a teacher discussed telling her students about 9/11. She explained that there were 3 targets that symbolized the very idea of America in their own way. The World Trade Center was a representation of the American economic power, the Pentagon is a symbol of military power, and the 3rd target, the Capitol is the seat of our democracy.

20 years later, the 3rd target was attacked again.

This time, the attack did not come from foreign powers but instead from home-grown terrorists, radicalized to believe the blatant lies of a spray-tanned reality TV star who is spending this anniversary as a ringside commentator at a casino boxing match in Florida. I couldn’t make this up if I tried.

We are in a politicized pandemic that quite literally almost killed my own mother last week. I’m living in the hottest city in America where we moved for a job that Pirate was fired from 3 weeks after we signed our year-long lease.

Oh, and the Capitol police have requested the fences be put back up for the “Justice for J6” rally next weekend. These 'very fine people' are gathering to show solidarity for those who literally smeared shit on the halls of our democracy.

Showing support for those arrested for assaults that left several people injured. Five people died shortly before, during, or after the event, and 4 officers who responded to the riot died by suicide in the months since.

Today there are people all over social media posting stories of where they were that day.

But others are the younger people who have been taught to “remember” an event that was little more to their personal history than a scary movie on TV. They were too young or too far removed from it to carry the same scars as those who lived through the events of that day and all that came after.

I’m glad they only have to perform the remembrance rather than experience it. But for the rest of us, I think that it is part of the healing to look back on this anniversary and say,

“I was there. I was present. That day changed my life in ways that still matter to me.”

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serialfirstdater · 4 years ago

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Do I Have a Type??

A close friend of mine brought up something recently when we were messaging each other back and forth on Instagram about dating, boys, the usual.

“I don’t know what your type is,” she said.

I asked her if she was sure. Were there no commonalities with any of the guys I’ve previously dated? She could only give me descriptors of my most recent ex (The Property Lawyer), which obviously did not match the ex before that (The Ex-Actor, whom I never really gave a name to prior on this blog but I’m doing it now for simplicity sakes).

Although she said this in passing, the thought stuck around in my mind. The following day, I visited another friend and caught her up on my dating adventures this past month. She too also said, I didn’t really have a type.

This got me thinking some more as I reflected back on both my exes (minus the shitty first one that I am not gonna even bother including because he was a mistake) and the guys I have been interested in this past month that were also interested in me.

I’m a fan of lists. So, I’m gonna list out each ex’s qualities and their physical attributes.

Exes

The Ex-Actor (Second Ex)

Physical Attributes: 5′10, normal body, baby-face, boyish charms, the only Caucasian on this list whilst everyone else is Chinese.

Personality/Qualities: Selfless, generous, agreeable, realist, a listener, slight goofball, lovable, introverted, thoughtful, and doting. Can be awkward upon first meet though lol.

Interests: History, space, camping, and indie pop.

Notes: I have to point out that this relationship always had an expiry date since he asked me out after I applied for my Australian visa. Therefore we never got too deep. So, it’s hard for me to point out the flaws in him because when we were dating, he had none. I was happy to spend time with him, doing whatever. He was the first person to truly give me what I always wanted in a relationship. Til this day, I still have a very soft spot for him. I tell everyone, he’s probably the only person that can potentially deter me from my future plans (unless we properly date and realize we are actually incompatible). However, a part of me don’t think so and I feel like he was the one I let go and my heart still never fully healed after 2.5 years. I plan to treasure the necklaces and card he gave me forever.

(From Future Me: I originally drafted this post up about 3-4 weeks ago. I tried shooting my shot with the Ex-Actor two weeks ago and he never replied. Although I was bummed, I had a feeling he was respecting the current relationship that he is in and didn’t want to complicate things. I respect that and honestly him not answering was enough of an answer for me. I no longer have to fantasize about what-ifs and torture myself over and over with the spirals of my thoughts. I didn’t know if he was still seeing someone hence why I reached out. His best friend/my friend later confirmed he’s still with his girlfriend (which I assumed was the case). I feel that a weight has lifted and I am in a much better spot mentally now. I honestly couldn’t get him out of my head from October 2020 to the beginning of June 2021. And yes, I was thinking of him when I was still with the Property Lawyer. I didn’t want to be but sometimes the mind works in funny ways and you just gotta deal. Either way, I hope he’s incredibly happy cause he deserves it).

The Property Lawyer (Third and latest Ex)

Physical Attributes: 6′, normal body weight (though previously ripped in his younger days), could be a side-character in some Chinese historical drama if he wanted to be looks-wise without his glasses (but my friend said he’s goofy-looking LOL).

Personality/Qualities: Extroverted, enthusiastic, entertainer, creative, generous, always affirming, low-pain tolerance, messy, wishy-washy, selfish, afraid to wastes time, easily stressed, doesn’t like when things are seemingly difficult, and one of my friends thought he had a subtle cocky vibe to him.

Interests: Magic, singing, playing instruments (guitar, piano, drums), creating films, hanging out with friends, and acting.

Notes: The Property Lawyer always made sure to take care of me throughout the entire relationship. He was happy to give me whatever I wanted (though by this point, it was no longer as new to me because of the Ex-Actor). Since we were long-distance for 1.5 years out of the 1 year 9 months we were together, we never got the full experience of dating each other. However, I did get to see his flaws here and there (hence the bigger list of negative traits) but it never really blew up until the very end when he broke up with me. Despite the way things ended, he still made sure to take care of the things that were most important to me because he knew what he was signing up for when he started to date me. (So bless his heart for sending all my things back and paying $4k for it). He was easily irritated and I did see that show up when we were trying to sort how to get my things back.

My Analysis Between Both Exes

I realized in the shower one day that the key difference between the two exes was the fact that the Ex-Actor is selfless whereas the Property Lawyer is selfish. I think this is key to why I have been so mentally and emotionally attached to the Ex-Actor. Everything he did, he did because he wanted me to be happy. Even at the end of that relationship, he kept telling me that he wanted me to live my best life abroad and that no guy should ever hold me back from my dreams.

Whereas with the Property Lawyer, at the end of that relationship, he told me one of the things he regretted was letting me go. Even in his card that he wrote to me, he said that he will always welcome me back as a friend and someone who will support him. As you can see, there’s a stark difference between the end of both relationships.

Quick Break-Downs of 2021 Dates (Thus Far)

This is just a break-down of the guys I have been interested in since I went back on the dating apps at the end of April 2021 after I found out the Property Lawyer found someone new to date after breaking up with me.

The Alumni: chubbier boy, good listener, a bit of a pessimist, easily triggered by dumb people, loves golf, hiking and his cat (and willing to buy my food or bubble tea each time :D)

The Historian: average weight, a bit old-school, enthusiastic, academic, extroverted, couldn’t have sex with someone he was not 100% romantically invested in. We also had conflicting values on what to expect from dating and he didn’t believe in paying for meals as expected each time when it comes to dates.

The Music Teacher: surprisingly fit, good listener, inquisitive, and... I think that’s all I can come up for this guy cause we only video-called once. Randomly ghosted and blocked me when I was asking simple questions about his previous relationships (which he simply could’ve said he didn’t want to talk about if he wasn’t comfortable but I only asked because I shared everything about my relationship with him). So in the end, not so great cause who tf does that (I find that to be either insecure or you are awful at communication).

Conclusion

Yeah, I don’t have a type. LOL. Simply someone I am attracted to at least mildly at first and most importantly, willing to indulge me in my Love Language. I’ve been interested in both extroverted and introverted personalities. Guys that are super sociable with friends or not much at all (but still need to at least have friends lol). I’m basically cool with anyone as long as they like me back basically. So, tell me in person what kind of guy do you think I will end up with the next time you see me based on my personality and how much you know me!

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bountyofbeads · 5 years ago

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AP-NORC poll: Solid support for Trump impeachment probe

https://apnews.com/33d7058e56c745819fc110b191c7a568

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AP-NORC poll: Solid support for Trump impeachment probe

WASHINGTON (AP) — More Americans approve of the impeachment investigation into President Donald Trump than disapprove of it, though only about a third say the inquiry should be a top priority for Congress, according to a new poll from The Associated Press-NORC Center for Public Affairs Research.

That solid, if measured, support serves as a warning sign for Trump's White House and reelection campaign, which have insisted that pursuing impeachment will end up being a vulnerability for Democrats heading into 2020.

But the findings present some red flags for Democrats, too: More people say House members are motivated mainly by politics rather than by duty as they investigate the Republican president's dealings with Ukraine and whether he abused his office or compromised national security when he tried to pressure the country to dig up dirt on a political rival.

And assessments of the president's performance generally have remained remarkably stable even as the investigation has unfolded at a rapid clip.

Overall, 47% said they support the impeachment inquiry, while 38% disapprove. Like most assessments of Trump and Washington, views of impeachment are starkly polarized.

A vast majority of Democrats approve of the inquiry, including 68% who strongly approve.

Among them is Sandra Shrewsbury, 70, who lives in Greencastle, Indiana. She said that Trump's impeachment is long overdue.

"I am really concerned about our country if this does not stop," she said of Trump's time in office.

She voiced concerns that Trump doesn't have the temperament to be the nation's commander in chief and is doing serious damage to the country's standing.

She was relieved, she said, that after months of hemming and hawing, impeachment proceedings were finally underway.

"I was getting very frustrated with Congress and those investigating because I felt like they were just dragging their heels," she said. "I wish they'd stop worrying about getting reelected themselves and get down to the business they're supposed to be doing. ... We pay them to do this job."

"They should have done it a long time, a way long time ago," agreed Monica Galindo, 32, who lives in Camilla, Georgia.

It's another story among Republicans, who overwhelmingly disapprove of the inquiry, including 67% who do so strongly.

"I think its garbage," said Sara Palmer, 42, a staunch Trump supporter who lives in Pocatello, Idaho, and accused Democrats of wasting time and money trying to take down Trump when there are far more important things they should be doing for the country.

"I mean come on!" she said. "There's nothing there. ... He didn't do anything wrong."

That's a sentiment shared by a majority, 64%, of Republicans.

Yet even among members of Trump's party, a modest share think he did do something wrong. About a quarter, 28%, think he did something unethical, while 8% think he broke the law.

The public overall has mixed views of whether the president committed any wrongdoing. Most say his interactions with the president of Ukraine were at least unethical. That includes about 4 in 10 who think he did something illegal. About another 3 in 10 think what he did was unethical but not illegal.

Trump has insisted he did nothing wrong.

But nearly all Democrats think the president crossed a line, including roughly 7 in 10 who say that he broke the law.

Still, not all Democrats think the inquiry should be Congress' top priority. A quarter think it should be an important but lower priority, and 1 in 10 say it should not be an important priority at all. And while most Democrats support the inquiry, 27% think the House is acting mainly on political motivation to challenge Trump's presidency.

Even as Americans express strong opinions about the inquiry, many have mixed assessments of their own understanding of the impeachment process. Just about 3 in 10 say they understand the process very or extremely well, while roughly as many describe their understanding as limited.

Skylar Iske, 22, who voted for Trump in 2016 but has grown weary of him, said it was difficult for him to oppose the process given his limited awareness of the case for impeachment.

"I don't feel like he should be. But then again, I also don't know what they're investigating," said Iske, who lives outside Des Moines, Iowa.

And there are rare areas where Republicans and Democrats agree.

Majorities across party lines think it was inappropriate for Hunter Biden, former Vice President Joe Biden's son, to serve on the board of a Ukrainian energy company while his father was vice president, with only about a quarter of Americans saying it was appropriate.

Roughly 7 in 10, including 6 in 10 Democrats, say it wasn't.

___

The AP-NORC poll of 1,075 adults was conducted Oct. 24-28 using a sample drawn from NORC's probability-based AmeriSpeak Panel, which is designed to be representative of the U.S. population. The margin of sampling error for all respondents is plus or minus 4.1 percentage points. Respondents were first selected randomly using address-based sampling methods and later were interviewed online or by phone.

___

Online:

AP-NORC Center: http://www.apnorc.org/

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Ex-Trump aide confirms Ukraine aid was linked to Biden probe

By LISA MASCARO, ZEKE J. MILLER and DEB RIECHMANN | Published November 1, 2019 | AP | Posted November 1, 2019 |

WASHINGTON (AP) — A former top White House official confirmed that military aid to Ukraine was held up by President Donald Trump's demand for the ally to investigate Democrats and Joe Biden but testified that there's nothing illegal, in his view, about the quid pro quo at the center of the Democrat-led impeachment inquiry.

Tim Morrison, who stepped down from the National Security Council the day before his Thursday testimony, was the first White House political appointee to appear and spent more than eight hours behind closed doors with House investigators.

"I want to be clear, I was not concerned that anything illegal was discussed," Morrison said about a pivotal phone call between Trump and the Ukraine president, according to prepared remarks obtained by The Associated Press.

Late Thursday, Trump tweeted about Morrison's comment that no law was broken: "Thank you to Tim Morrison for your honesty."

But Morrison also confirmed what diplomat William Taylor told investigators in earlier testimony — that Morrison had a "sinking feeling" when he learned that Trump was asking the Ukrainians to publicly announce an investigation of Biden and the Democrats, even as the Republican president denied it was a quid pro quo.

"I can confirm," Morrison wrote, that the substance of the diplomat's testimony "is accurate."

Tim Morrison's opening statement from his testimony in the impeachment inquiry of President Donald Trump.

Morrison told investigators that he and Taylor did not realize the money was being withheld for the investigation of Burisma, the gas company connected to Biden, until a conversation with European Union Ambassador Gordon Sondland in September.

"Taylor and I had no reason to believe that the release of the security sector assistance might be conditioned on a public statement reopening the Burisma investigation until my Sept. 1, 2019, conversation with Ambassador Sondland," Morrison testified.

A defense hawk, Morrison was the National Security Council's top adviser for Russian and European affairs until he stepped down Wednesday. He was brought into the White House by John Bolton, the former national security adviser who was critical of Trump's Ukraine policy and the back-channel diplomacy being run by the Republican president's personal lawyer Rudy Giuliani.

Morrison testified that he was told by his predecessor, Fiona Hill, who also testified in the impeachment inquiry, that Giuliani and Sondland were trying to get Ukraine President Voldymyr Zelenskiy "to reopen investigations into Burisma."

Bolton resigned in September, and Morrison had similarly been expected to leave for some time. "I do not want anyone to think there is a connection between my testimony today and my pending departure," he wrote.

As a national security adviser, Morrison was among those listening to Trump's July 25 call with the Ukrainian leader that sparked a whistleblower's complaint and the impeachment inquiry.

He said he asked NSC lawyers to review the call because he had three concerns if word of the discussion leaked: how it would play out in polarized Washington, how it would affect bipartisan support in Congress for Ukraine and how it would affect U.S.-Ukraine relations.

Republican lawmakers portrayed the opening remarks of the longtime GOP policy operative as shifting the debate favorably toward Trump. They said Morrison's opening statement contradicted other witnesses, but they did not provide details.

"It's a very compelling witness today that is giving testimony that contradicts some of the testimony we heard," said Rep. Mark Meadows, R-N.C.

Another Republican, Rep. Chip Roy of Texas, said, "When you all see what he had to say, it will be interesting."

Democrats, though, have said the witnesses are largely corroborating the central argument of the impeachment inquiry — that aid to Ukraine was being withheld as the Trump administration pushed the young democracy for the political investigation.

It is against the law to seek or receive assistance of value from a foreign entity in a U.S. election. Trump says he did nothing wrong.

Morrison had been featured prominently in previous testimony from Taylor, the top diplomat in Ukraine who testified before House investigators last week.

It was Morrison who first alerted Taylor to concerns over Trump's phone call with the Ukraine president.

In fact, Morrison's name appeared more than a dozen times in testimony by Taylor, who told impeachment investigators that Trump was withholding military aid unless Zelenskiy went public with a promise to investigate Biden and Burisma, where Biden's son served on the board.

Taylor's testimony contradicted Trump's repeated denials that there was any quid pro quo.

Morrison testified Thursday that he initially knew so little about Burisma when he took over for Hill in July that he had to do a Google search but quickly understood the Biden connection.

He did clarify one difference from Taylor's recollection of events: He said it was his understanding that "it could be sufficient" if the new Ukraine prosecutor general, rather than Zelenskiy himself, committed "to pursue the Burisma investigation."

As the security funds for Ukraine were being withheld, Morrison told the diplomat, "President doesn't want to provide any assistance at all."

Their concerns deepened when Morrison relayed on Sept. 7 the conversation he had with Sondland that gave him that "sinking feeling."

In it, Sondland explained that Trump said he was not asking for a quid pro quo but insisted that Zelenskiy "go to a microphone and say he is opening investigations of Biden and 2016 election interference," Taylor testified last week.

Morrison told Bolton and the NSC lawyers of this call between Trump and Sondland, according to Taylor's testimony.

The testimony came as the House took its first formal vote on the impeachment inquiry Thursday, approving the process ahead for public hearings and possible drafting of articles of impeachment.

The 232-196 tally split along partisan lines, with all but two voting Democrats supporting the package and all voting Republicans opposed. One Republican-turned-independent joined Democrats in approving the package.

Democrats said they will largely follow rules used during the impeachment proceedings of Presidents Richard Nixon and Bill Clinton. Trump and Republicans dismiss the process as a sham, and the president has directed his staff not to testify in the House inquiry.

"This is a very solemn day in the history of the country when the president's misconduct has compelled us to move forward with an impeachment inquiry," said Rep. Adam Schiff, D-Calif., the chairman of the Intelligence Committee leading the probe.

The spotlight has been on Morrison since August, when a government whistleblower said multiple U.S. officials had said Trump was "using the power of his office to solicit interference from a foreign country in the 2020 U.S. election."

Morrison, formerly a longtime Republican staffer at the House Armed Services Committee, has been bouncing around Washington in GOP positions for two decades.

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Baghdadi’s death could mean more American withdrawal in the Middle East. That’s bad news.

By Fareed Zakaria | Published October 31 at 7:32 PM ET | Washington Post | Posted November 1, 2019 |

The death of Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi is a real victory in the war against terrorist groups. The Islamic State is one of the most cruel and dangerous organizations to have roamed the planet in a long time, and its leader’s death damages it badly. But as recent protests from Iraq to Lebanon have shown, the Middle East remains a troubled region. And if Baghdadi’s death produces a greater U.S. disengagement from the Middle East, then things could spiral downward even faster.

After the 9/11 terrorist attacks, the world suddenly focused its gaze on the Middle East and recognized one seminal fact: The region was almost unique in having made no significant political, economic or social progress in decades. Throughout the world, communism had collapsed, juntas had disappeared, and economic growth had transformed developing countries. But in the Middle East, time had stood still, and even moved backward on some measures. This stagnation, many believed, was the atmosphere in which Islamic extremism and terrorism were able to grow and spread.

In 2002, the United Nations released a report on Arab development, written and researched by Arab experts, that laid bare the region’s profound challenges. It identified three deficits that needed to be overcome to bring the region into the modern world: deficits of freedom, female empowerment and knowledge. It spoke more broadly of the lack of economic opportunity, political rights and social progress in much of the Arab world. Governments around the world resolved that these were the crucial issues to address in the Middle East.

In the following years, gains were made in several areas, such as life expectancy, literacy and the status of women. But as the U.N.’s most recent Arab Human Development Report points out, “Since 2010 nearly all Arab countries have slowed or reversed their average annual human development advances.” This despite the fact that the Arab Spring of 2011 seemed to highlight the need for greater reforms.

Why? Partly because the Arab Spring was largely a failure. Only Tunisia transitioned to democratic rule. Egypt saw the return of repressive rule; Syria experienced a civil war and the bloody resurgence of the Assad regime; and Yemen and Libya are in free fall. But even beyond these breakdowns, the region continues to face daunting challenges. The demographics remain grim. The Middle East has the highest youth unemployment rate in the world. The economic model remains highly inefficient, expensive and unsustainable, with governments employing a huge number of people and providing massive subsidies for food and energy.

Efforts at reform have had mixed results. In Egypt and Saudi Arabia, there has been some success. But it’s difficult for countries so dependent on state spending to jump-start the private sector, particularly when their economies are reeling from low oil prices. In Egypt, the government employs around 20 percent of the labor force. In Algeria, it’s almost 40 percent; in Saudi Arabia, more than 65 percent. In cases where the state has tried to step back, the private sector has struggled to step in. Many countries have attempted to cut subsidies, triggering protests that have often been met with repression.

The hope behind the U.N.’s 2002 report was that economic and social reforms would become easier if these countries opened themselves up politically. Political openness would produce popular, elected leaders who would drain away support for Islamic extremists. This was the appealing idea behind President George W. Bush’s freedom agenda, which was rooted in some serious thinking about the region. But little of it worked. Political openings mostly led to insurgencies, sectarian violence, civil wars and crackdowns. Places such as Lebanon and Jordan that have maintained their unity and stability remain fragile, and very little reform has taken place.

Perhaps the most important result of the enduring turmoil in the Arab world has been the United States’ withdrawal from the region. Starting during the second term of the George W. Bush administration, through Barack Obama’s presidency and now into Donald Trump’s, the United States has gotten fed up with the Middle East. It now seems content to rid itself of responsibility for this messy, unstable part of the world. When Trump says he wants to end the forever wars, large parts of the public agree.

So we see an emerging post-American Middle East, with various regional powers jockeying for influence, mainly Saudi Arabia and Iran, along with others such as Turkey and Israel, pushing their own interests. These are uncharted waters in a time of great upheaval — Syria has produced more than 5 million refugees , and Yemen faces the world’s worst humanitarian crisis. The Islamic State has been decapitated and is scattered for now, but the demons that have fueled such terror — stagnation, repression, despair — continue

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U.S. judge to reconsider house arrest for Giuliani associate charged in Ukraine-linked case

By Brendan Pierson | Published November 1, 2019, 7:04 AM ET | Reuters | Posted November 1, 2019 |

NEW YORK (Reuters) - A judge is expected on Friday to consider whether an associate of U.S. President Donald Trump’s personal lawyer, Rudy Giuliani, should remain under house arrest while he awaits trial on charges of illegally funneling money to a pro-Trump election committee and other politicians.

A lawyer for Igor Fruman, a Belarus-born businessman, is scheduled to appear before U.S. District Judge Paul Oetken in Manhattan to argue that his client should be allowed to move more freely. Fruman, who lives in Florida, is not expected to appear.

Fruman was arrested on Oct. 9 at a Washington-area airport along with another Florida businessman, Ukraine-born Lev Parnas. Authorities said the two were preparing to leave the United States with one-way plane tickets.

Fruman’s lawyer, Todd Blanche, said in a court filing on Wednesday that Fruman should not be subject to house arrest or electronic GPS monitoring as conditions of his bail, calling them “onerous.”

He argued that Fruman posed no risk of fleeing the country, noting that he had already agreed to post a $1 million bond secured by his home and to have his travel restricted.

Federal prosecutors have accused Parnas and Fruman of using a shell company to donate $325,000 to the pro-Trump committee, America First Action, and of raising money for former U.S. Representative Pete Sessions of Texas as part of an effort to have the president remove the U.S. ambassador to Ukraine.

That effort was carried out at the request of at least one Ukrainian official, prosecutors said. Trump ordered the ambassador, Marie Yovanovitch, removed in May.

The case is unfolding amid an impeachment inquiry by the Democratic-led U.S. House of Representatives, centered on Republican Trump’s request in a July phone call with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskiy to investigate former U.S. Vice President Joe Biden, a contender for the 2020 Democratic presidential nomination.

Yovanovitch testified in the inquiry that Trump had ousted her from her position based on “unfounded and false claims” after she had come under attack by Giuliani. Giuliani has said Parnas and Fruman helped his efforts in Ukraine to investigate Biden and denies wrongdoing.

Parnas and Fruman are also charged with taking part in a scheme with two other men to funnel money from an unnamed Russian businessman to political candidates in several states to help obtain permits needed for a proposed marijuana business, which never materialized. U.S. law prohibits foreign donations to political campaigns.

Parnas, Fruman and the other two men, Andrey Kukushkin and David Correia, have all pleaded not guilty to the charges.

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Trump may read summary of Ukraine call in 'fireside chat': interview ( Trump is NO Roosevelt, for that matter, he's like no other president in U.S. History. No staging, photoshopping, TV production can change the fact that Trump, using his office, asked 3 foreign governments to interfere in our election by asking for dirt on his opponent.)

By Doina Chiacu | Published November 1, 2019, 8:09 AM ET | Reuters | Posted November 1, 2019 |

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - “READ THE TRANSCRIPT!” U.S. President Donald Trump exhorts regularly on Twitter, referring to a telephone call with Ukraine’s president that led to an impeachment inquiry. Now he is threatening to do just that - on live television.

Trump told the Washington Examiner he would not cooperate with congressional impeachment proceedings and might read out loud a transcript of a July 25 call in which Trump asks President Volodymyr Zelenskiy to investigate a domestic political rival.

“This is over a phone call that is a good call,” Trump told the Examiner in an interview. “At some point, I’m going to sit down, perhaps as a fireside chat on live television, and I will read the transcript of the call, because people have to hear it. When you read it, it’s a straight call.”

Trump’s reference to the fireside chat recalled the informal evening radio addresses President Franklin D. Roosevelt used to reassure Americans facing hardships during the Great Depression - a far cry from a U.S. president defending himself against impeachment.

The Trump administration in September released a detailed summary of the 30-minute call - not a precise transcript - based on notes taken by aides, as Democrats in the House of Representatives began looking into Trump’s call following a whistleblower complaint.

The House, which is controlled by Democrats, approved rules on Thursday for the next, more public, stage in the inquiry into the Republican president’s attempt to have Ukraine investigate a domestic political rival.

The inquiry centers on whether Trump solicited foreign interference and aid in a U.S. election, which federal law prohibits. Democrats are also investigating whether Trump withheld $391 million in American aid to vulnerable Ukraine, who faced a military threat from Russian-backed separatists, as leverage to get Zelenskiy to announce an investigation into former Vice President Joe Biden and his son Hunter.

Biden is a leading contender for the Democratic nomination to face Trump in the November 2020 presidential election. Hunter Biden sat on the board of a Ukrainian energy company. There has been no evidence of wrongdoing on their part.

Current and former Trump administration officials have testified behind closed doors that the White House went outside normal diplomatic channels to pressure Zelenskiy to investigate the Bidens.

Trump has insisted he did nothing wrong. He said his administration would continue to not honor document requests and subpoenas.

He told the Examiner he would fight back with a defense of the Ukraine call and use his well-honed art of the slogan, offering T-shirts emblazoned with “Read the transcript.”

Exclusive: U.S. withholding $105 million in security aid for Lebanon - sources

By Patricia Zengerle, Mike Stone | Published October 31, 2019, 6:17 PM ET | Reuters | Posted November 1, 2019 |

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - U.S. President Donald Trump’s administration is withholding $105 million in security aid for Lebanon, two U.S. officials said on Thursday, two days after the resignation of Lebanese Prime Minister Saad al-Hariri.

The State Department told Congress on Thursday that the White House budget office and National Security Council had decided to withhold the foreign military assistance, the two officials said, speaking on condition of anonymity.

The officials did not say why the aid was blocked. One of the sources said the State Department did not give Congress a reason for the decision.

The State Department declined to comment.

The administration had sought approval for the assistance starting in May, arguing that it was crucial for Lebanon, an important U.S. partner in the volatile Middle East, to be able to protect its borders. The aid included night vision goggles and weapons used in border security.

But Washington has also repeatedly expressed concern over the growing role in the Beirut government of Hezbollah, the armed Shi’ite group backed by Iran and listed as a terrorist organization by the United States.

Following Hariri’s resignation on Tuesday amid huge protests against the ruling elite, U.S. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo urged Lebanon’s political leaders to help form a new government responsive to the needs of its people and called for an end to endemic corruption.

One U.S. official told Reuters he believed the security assistance was necessary for Lebanon, as it struggles with instability not just within its own government but in a turbulent region and houses thousands of refugees from war in neighboring Syria.

The official said it was especially important to strengthen Lebanon’s military, which he deemed one of the most capable institutions in the country now, largely because of support from Washington.

The official said drawing aid away from Lebanon could pave the way for Russia to move in. Russia has expanded its influence in Syria since Trump announced he was withdrawing U.S. forces from the northeastern part of the country.

Lebanon has been arguing with foreign donors over international aid for months. Before he resigned, Hariri failed to convince foreign donors to release $11 billion in assistance pledged at a Paris conference last year.

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North Korea, emboldened by Trump peril and Chinese allies, tries harder line

SEOUL (Reuters) - Successful sanctions evasion, economic lifelines from China and U.S. President Donald Trump’s impeachment woes may be among the factors that have emboldened North Korea in nuclear negotiations, analysts and officials say.

Both Trump and North Korean leader Kim Jong Un continue to play up the personal rapport they say they developed during three face-to-face meetings. But North Korea has said in recent days that it is losing patience, giving the United States until the end of the year to change its negotiating stance.

North Korea has tested the limits of engagement with a string of missile launches, including two fired on Thursday, and experts warn that the lack of a concrete arms control agreement has allowed the country to continue producing nuclear weapons.

The missile tests have practical value for the North Korean military’s efforts to modernize its arsenal. But they also underscore Pyongyang’s increasingly belligerent position in the face of what it sees as an inflexible and hostile United States.

In a best-case scenario, Thursday’s launch was an attempt to make the December deadline feel more urgent to the U.S., said Andray Abrahamian, a visiting scholar with George Mason University Korea.

“Still, I think that Pyongyang has concluded they can do without a deal if they must,” he said. “The sad thing is I think that will lock in the current state of affairs, with its downsides for all stakeholders, for years to come.”

‘NOT SO PROMISING’

Trump’s reelection battle and the impeachment inquiry against him may have led Kim to overestimate North Korea’s leverage, said one diplomat in Seoul, who spoke on condition of anonymity because of the sensitivity of the negotiations.

“It looks like Kim has a serious delusion that he is capable of helping or ruining Trump’s reelection, but no one in Pyongyang can stand up to the unerring leader and say he’s mistaken – you don’t want to be dead,” the diplomat told Reuters. “And Trump is all Kim has. In order to denuclearize, Kim needs confidence that Trump will be reelected.”

The Americans, meanwhile, came into working-level talks on Oct. 5 in Stockholm with the position that North Korea must completely and irreversibly dismantle its nuclear program, and pushed for a moratorium on weapons tests as part of a first step, the diplomat said.

Although some media reports said the United States planned to propose temporarily lifting sanctions on coal and textile exports, the diplomat said the talks in Stockholm did not get into details.

“The U.S. can’t take the risk of easing sanctions first, having already given a lot of gifts to Kim without substantial progress on denuclearization, including summits,” the diplomat said. “Sanctions are basically all they have to press North Korea.”

When American negotiators tried to set a time for another round of talks, North Korean officials were uncooperative, the diplomat said.

“The prospects are not so promising,” the diplomat added.

ECONOMIC LIFELINES

Although United Nations sanctions remain in place, some trade with China appears to have increased, and political relations between Beijing and Pyongyang have improved dramatically.

Kim and China’s president, Xi Jinping, have met several times, and the two countries exchange delegations of government officials.

A huge influx of Chinese tourists over the past year appears to be a major source of cash for the North Korean government, according to research by Korea Risk Group, which monitors North Korea.

Korea Risk Group chief executive Chad O’Carroll estimates as many as 350,000 Chinese tourists have visited this year, potentially netting the North Korean authorities up to $175 million.

That’s more than North Korea was making from the Kaesong Industrial Complex - jointly operated with South Korea before it was shuttered in 2016 - and is almost certainly part of why Kim is showing less interest in U.S. proposals, O’Carroll said.

The United States and South Korea suggested tourism, rather than resuming the Kaesong operation, as a potential concession to the North after the failed second summit between Trump and Kim in Hanoi in February, the Seoul-based diplomat said.

“That’s based on the consensus that any sanctions relief should be immediately reversible, but once the 120-plus factories are put back in, it’s difficult to shut it down and pull them out again,” the diplomat said.

The United Nations, meanwhile, has reported that North Korea is successfully evading many of the sanctions, and that the government may have stolen as much as $2 billion through cyber attacks.

“Stockholm suggests Pyongyang is also fine with their ‘Chinese backstop’, i.e. whatever agreement they have on lax sanctions enforcement,” Abrahamian said. “I worry that instead of trying to get a deal, they think Trump will be more desperate for a win than he actually is and will miss the window.”

INTERNAL DEBATE

Trump and Kim’s second meeting abruptly fell apart when both sides refused to budge, with North Korea demanding wide-ranging sanctions relief and the Americans insisting on concrete disarmament steps.

“It’s very clear that the failure of Hanoi triggered a debate inside North Korea about whether Kim’s path - moving down the road to denuclearization - was the right way to go,” said Joel Wit, a senior fellow at the Stimson Center in Washington.

For now, North Korea seems inclined to avoid engaging further with the United States or South Korea until they make more concessions, Wit said.

Other analysts are skeptical that Kim will ever give up his hard-won nuclear weapons, but say the opportunity for even a limited arms control deal may be slipping away.

“North Korea appears to be interested only in a deal under its terms to the exact letter,” said Duyeon Kim, with the Washington-based Center for a New American Security.

“Pyongyang is able to demand more, be tougher, and raise the bar because its confidence comes from qualitative and quantitative advancements in its nuclear weapons,” Kim said.

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neilmillerne · 6 years ago

Text

{#TransparentTuesday} Our guts are NEVER WRONG

Years ago I met a man who was/is a big deal in the online fitness business world.

At the time, he was nothing but outwardly kind to me, but I immediately had a very bad feeling in my gut about him.

He struck me as manipulative, toxic, narcissistic, and emotionally abusive… all while never actually doing anything I could point to to explain why I felt that way.

I was in my early twenties, only a handful of years after getting out of an emotionally abusive relationship myself, and easily triggered into feeling unsafe, so when I told my partner (a friend of this man) that I had a bad gut feeling, we both assumed it was just my own trigger-y stuff coming up, and I ignored it and moved on.

Over the years the feeling persisted.

I watched as this man broke up with a girlfriend, who had told me he made her sign a contract to never to mention on the internet that they were together, so he could maintain his single “playboy” image online for his brand.

I watched him blatantly lie about his workouts (which were done at my gym) too. I was there during his training sessions at my gym, and I watched in wonder as he bragged about PRs that he never hit, and lied about circuits that he never did.

I was in the beginning stages of launching my online business back then, so despite the fact that my bad feeling about him never went away, I considered him somewhat of a business and branding mentor. He is amazing at branding, a brilliant writer and extremely successful creator, and of the most charming men you’ll ever meet.

I went to his wedding and really, really wanted to believe he was the great guy the rest of the world saw.

But over the next few years as I moved away from the fitness industry and became a nomad, we lost touch and as I watched from afar and heard whispered stories, I became less impressed and more worried about his wife.

I talked out “my trigger” with friends, trying to label what my gut was telling me. I talked about the patterns I saw between my own abuser, other abusers I’ve known, and this man, but I always came up somewhat empty, with a statement like “I just feel like he’s… dangerous.”

I almost reached out to his wife many times, as she was a friend through the fitness industry who I admired but wasn’t close to, but I always got stuck on what I would say.

“Hi, I have a bad feeling about your husband and I’m worried about your safety. Are you ok?”

That’s extremely rude at best, plus I still felt silly, convinced that it was just my overly sensitive trigger-system, because I had been emotionally abused, and was projecting things.

Eventually his wife came out online, and started talking about her separation from her ex-husband, his many complex and congruent affairs, and his manipulative, abusive, narcissistic behavior.

I was horrified of course, but not surprised.

I unfollowed his work immediately, and spent some time thinking about the gut feeling I’d had all this time. How did I know? WTF was my gut basing it on? Why didn’t I say anything? What would there have been to say?

Last week I talked to this man’s ex-wife about some of the details of abuse, and I told her about the bad feeling I’d had for years, and that I wished I’d reached out sooner. She told me that many other women told her after everything came out that they had bad feelings about him too.

I was struck by the image of dozens or even hundreds of women over the years, all individually and silently feeling that something was off, but unable to say why or prove it, and afraid of unfairly accusing someone of something, looking stupid, or upsetting someone.

One thing worth noting here is that abusive men tend to be extremely charming, well-liked, and successful. If you’ve never been in an abusive relationship you might imagine that they are monsters from the get-go, but actually it’s the complete opposite.

Abusers are often the most romantic, the most sensitive, the most sweet and wonderful… otherwise how would they ever hook women into staying??

They are masters of tactical empathy and manipulation, so they make people fall in love with them, and then leverage that power to get what they want. They are often extremely popular in their community, beloved by their friends, and the exact last person you would ever suspect of abuse. Their entire lives are alibis, set up to gaslight their abused partners, and this man was no different.

Good looking, charming, successful, and with a flair for romance and sensitivity, most people who knew him were SHOCKED when his wife started telling the truth about him and their relationship. He has an undeniable talent for manipulation and abuse (which often goes hand in hand with having a gift for “branding and marketing,” for the record). He uses those gifts to curate the truth, gaslight his partner, make himself look like a victim, and come away untouched.

Now, it’s obviously not his wife’s responsibility to speak up and spend her energy on calling out his behavior. She’s getting on with her life, for fuck’s sake.

But this man is still successful in the fitness world, his career untouched by his despicable behavior, and still exercising his influence and abuse over other young women, which is one of the reasons I wanted to write this today– as a warning to anyone on my list who might happen to know him, follow him, or work with him.

When I first wrote this, in fact, I was going to out him by name in the subject line, because fuck that guy, everyone needs to know the truth about him.

But then I talked to a few people who were concerned about libel, and him coming at me legally if I damaged his reputation on the internet. He is, after all, an abuser with a huge ego and huge financial resources and influence. If he wanted to destroy me (even though everything I’m saying is true) he absolutely could.

For the record, this makes me burn in RAGE, because this is exactly how abusers get away with it.

They create lives and personas that function to protect themselves from ever being called out or held accountable for their behavior, they silence anyone who might come at them, and they use their privileges to live above the law and avoid consequences.

As a member of this man’s community, I desperately want to warn you about him, to protect the other women in my industry, and to out this guy publicly. His name is burning on my lips as I write this, but I am afraid of what he would do. Even publishing this without his name is a huge risk.

So despite feeling like an absolute coward, I will not name him. I suspect if you are reading this and have any chance of coming across him IRL and need the warning, you’ll know who I mean. (I’m happy to have a conversation about it privately to confirm.)

As far as I’m concerned, this article is about 9 years too late. This man’s wife said to feel free to talk about everything she told me, to keep the women in my network safe and spread the message far and wide that this man, this leader in the online fitness industry, is a chronic liar, abuser, and all around horrible person.

That said, this article is more than just a warning about one man’s despicable behavior. (Because that’s old news by now, amiright?)

This is also an exposition of the power and accuracy of our gut feelings.

A few weeks ago, I made an instagram story about Lewis Howes, because I was reading his book on masculinity. I talked about how it felt yucky and disingenuous, although I consciously downplayed the feeling because I couldn’t prove why I felt that way, and have never met him personally.

A personal friend of his messaged me soon after, to confirm that while he is a brilliant marketer (read, again: manipulator), his whole message is not actually genuine at all. I thought, “yeah I know.” But I didn’t know. I just felt it.

My gut is always right. It’s wild. How about yours?

Soooo many women felt the truth about the fitness guy’s character in our guts years ago, but there was no useful place to come forward about those gut feelings until it was too late.

Personally I’m convinced that our guts are never wrong, but what do we do with that?

Is there any benefit to talking more openly about our bad gut feelings before we have proof? Would it help anyone if we spoke up to share them?

If you were falling in love with someone who seemed to be Mr. Right, and 30 women told you they had bad feelings about him, would you listen? Could it help?

And is there a better way for us to acknowledge these kinds of feelings as valid, useful, powerful, and accurate, without making them synonymous with “evidence”? I really hope so, but I don’t know what that could look like.

No answers today. Just questions and rage.

<3 Jessi

The post {#TransparentTuesday} Our guts are NEVER WRONG appeared first on Jessi Kneeland.

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#{TransparentTuesday} Our guts are NEVER WRONG

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albertcaldwellne · 6 years ago

Text

{#TransparentTuesday} Our guts are NEVER WRONG

Years ago I met a man who was/is a big deal in the online fitness business world.

At the time, he was nothing but outwardly kind to me, but I immediately had a very bad feeling in my gut about him.

He struck me as manipulative, toxic, narcissistic, and emotionally abusive… all while never actually doing anything I could point to to explain why I felt that way.

Over the years the feeling persisted.

I went to his wedding and really, really wanted to believe he was the great guy the rest of the world saw.

I almost reached out to his wife many times, as she was a friend through the fitness industry who I admired but wasn’t close to, but I always got stuck on what I would say.

“Hi, I have a bad feeling about your husband and I’m worried about your safety. Are you ok?”

That’s extremely rude at best, plus I still felt silly, convinced that it was just my overly sensitive trigger-system, because I had been emotionally abused, and was projecting things.

Eventually his wife came out online, and started talking about her separation from her ex-husband, his many complex and congruent affairs, and his manipulative, abusive, narcissistic behavior.

I was horrified of course, but not surprised.

Abusers are often the most romantic, the most sensitive, the most sweet and wonderful… otherwise how would they ever hook women into staying??

Now, it’s obviously not his wife’s responsibility to speak up and spend her energy on calling out his behavior. She’s getting on with her life, for fuck’s sake.

When I first wrote this, in fact, I was going to out him by name in the subject line, because fuck that guy, everyone needs to know the truth about him.

For the record, this makes me burn in RAGE, because this is exactly how abusers get away with it.

That said, this article is more than just a warning about one man’s despicable behavior. (Because that’s old news by now, amiright?)

This is also an exposition of the power and accuracy of our gut feelings.

My gut is always right. It’s wild. How about yours?

Soooo many women felt the truth about the fitness guy’s character in our guts years ago, but there was no useful place to come forward about those gut feelings until it was too late.

Personally I’m convinced that our guts are never wrong, but what do we do with that?

Is there any benefit to talking more openly about our bad gut feelings before we have proof? Would it help anyone if we spoke up to share them?

If you were falling in love with someone who seemed to be Mr. Right, and 30 women told you they had bad feelings about him, would you listen? Could it help?

No answers today. Just questions and rage.

<3 Jessi

The post {#TransparentTuesday} Our guts are NEVER WRONG appeared first on Jessi Kneeland.

https://ift.tt/2NKrY1d

#{TransparentTuesday} Our guts are NEVER WRONG

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