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psychedellic-phase · 4 years ago

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Fifteen (pt 11)

tw: mentions of vomiting, pregnancy, miscarriage

wc: 4.2k

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“I apologize in advance for the way this letter is going to be. It’s going to be a mess of my word vomit that is poorly strung together and probably won’t make any sense. The pages are going to be tear-soaked and ripped, kind of like me right now. I feel tattered and torn and achy and bruised. I’m physically fine, but mentally? I’m at my absolute low. The lowest of lows, even though I should be better. I was better for a while, because I still had you. Even after we broke up I was better, because I still had coffee with you at work and we sort of started speaking to each other again. Leaving is hard, but I know with time I’ll be better again. I won’t be at this rock-bottom this forever.

Speaking of, I should really tell you where I’m at. Physically, it is 1:36 am EST on February 15th. I am still at the kitchen table in that red blanket. The way it smells like you has gone from revolting to comforting in the last few hours of writing. My hand is aching. I have the locket on my neck and I’m incessantly playing with it and opening it to see your face. I haven’t eaten. If I did I’m afraid I’d just puke it all up, so instead I’m half way through a bottle of red and well on my way to a second. I need it. You know what the next part is, Spence, so can you really blame me?

I’ve decided to combine these next two mementos; I feel like they just go together naturally. They tell the same story and they’re both important to that said story. Grab the tissues, Love, you’re gonna need ‘em.”

Spencer did as you asked, reaching to his nightstand and grabbing the box of tissues that was already half empty from how much he had used them in the last fourteen hours. His nose was red and sore from the constant blowing and sniffling. The box felt hollow when he lifted it, and he couldn’t help but relate to it.

“It all started a month or so after that conversation on the balcony; the one between me, you, and the moon. I felt sick. We weren’t surprised and if I’m being honest, being “careful” had taken a backseat. Don’t think I’m complaining, because I’m not. I loved every moment I ever got to spend with you, especially in those compromising positions we found ourselves in often. I love the way you loved me, so gently, so kindly, with passion and heart. I loved feeling you love me, and you loved me often. So, naturally, we weren’t shocked when I woke up each morning throwing up. I purposely ignored the way my boobs hurt and my hip bones ached. I wasn’t surprised, but I was still terrified. Loaning out your body to another human being is scary. But you?

It’s like you had this sixth sense. You knew immediately, before I even had a clue. Every day for a week you rubbed my back, held my hair, and soothed me. You got me saltines and ginger ale every day, gently told me to stop with the coffee and deli meats. The way you cared for me during it all made it okay, more than okay. It made me excited. I felt lucky to share that experience with a man like you. I was lucky to share that experience with you. I can say with 100% certainty I will never share it with anyone except you, because no one except you would stop at Walgreens and pick up a box of ClearBlue for their cranky, definitely pregnant girlfriend. You’re the only one who would run to the store when I couldn’t physically eat anything but potato chips and raspberry Arizona Iced Tea. You’re the only one I’d want holding me on the bathroom floor as we waited for the longest three minutes of our lives. You’re the only one I wanted to scoop me up in a hug when it said ‘pregnant’. You’re the only one I’d ever want to be the dad of my kids. That’s just it Spence, you were the one. The only one. I realize that now.”

Spencer shook as he picked up the test in his hands. It felt delicate, and sacred, like it was a relic. Actually, everything in that box felt like a relic, like holy objects that he had to cherish and safeguard. His chest tightened, but he couldn’t cry. He was all out of tears. He spun it, staring at those eight letters, remembering when he bought the test.

It was Father’s day, ironically enough, and he had gone into the BAU to do some paperwork. You were too sick to come too; you had woken up at four to start your new-found morning routine of shoving your head into the toilet. He woke up with you, saltines and ginger ale in hand as he rubbed circles into your back and whispered ‘you’re okay, I’ve got you’ in between your gagging noises. It was good practice for being a dad, he thought. Waking up at any beck and call of yours would be similar to a newborn, and he needed all the practice he could get.

Every morning, you’d vomit for an hour or so, chug a ginger ale, and throw that up too before falling asleep on the toilet seat, after which he’d gingerly pick you up and carry you back to bed. That morning was no different, so he felt awful leaving you at home. He left you with a note saying ‘Be back later, Salt and Vinegar or BBQ? Let me know, love you,’ and a bottle of water with a Motrin.

You had been sick for almost two weeks straight, and he knew you knew why. You just didn’t want to admit it. Neither did he at first; he had a plan. This went against the plan you had agreed to a few weeks ago, but plans change. And for once that didn’t bother him. He was happy the plans had shifted, elated even. He didn’t know how to contain it, spending most days looking up which cribs were safest and which prenatal vitamins he should grab for you. He fully immersed himself in being a dad, before he even knew if he had someone to be a dad for.

When he stopped at the store to get you salt and vinegar and barbecue chips (you requested family sized bags of both), he wandered over to the family planning section. He decided it was finally time. Today was going to be the day. He’d officially be a dad-to-be, and on Father’s day of all days. It felt right. The universe was finally on his side. It was sunny, birds were chirping. Everything felt perfect.

He grabbed a box of clearblue and checked out, the cashier smiling and commenting, “I hope good luck is what I should say.”

He smiled ear to ear, “Yes, I appreciate that, thank you.”

The tests felt like they were burning a hole through the paper bag the whole walk home. A few times he considered not even giving them to you. He was scared for how you’d react. He was happy, but would you be? Would you cry? Would your tears be happy or sad? Part of him didn’t want to find out, but a bigger part of him needed to find out.

When he got home, you practically ran to greet him.

“Chips! Chips!”

You kissed his cheeks and face, and he squeezed you tightly, but not too tightly. Just in case.

“Yes, I got the biggest bags that they sell.”

“You know I love you? So much?”

“I know. I love you too, so much,” He blushed and watched you dig in the shopping bag, where you found the box of tests.

“Spencer—“

“We need to talk.”

He cut you off, trying to profile the look on your face. It was half shock, but he swore he saw you bite back a smile.

“I know,” you said, opening the box, “And I think we both know what this is going to say.”

“I have an idea of what it’ll say. Is that okay?”

“Is it okay?” You said, standing in front of him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders, “Yes. It’s scary, but it’s wanted.”

He placed his hands on your belly. There was nothing there yet, but he still couldn’t contain the smile, “Really?”

You rolled your eyes, using humor to deflect as usual, “Don’t pretend you haven’t been trying to knock me up for months, Dr. Reid,” now he rolled his, “I’m going to go pee on this.”

He followed you into the bathroom, and then proceeded to wait for three minutes. The longest three minutes in the history of time.

“First time?” You asked him, nestled between his legs on the bathroom floor.

“Yeah, believe it or not this is the first pregnancy test I’ve ever taken.”

You laughed, shifting even closer to him in an attempt to have him swallow you whole, “Nah, I’ve peed on a ton of sticks.”

“Is that so?” He joked back. You stiffened, and he gripped you tighter. If he could hold you together, maybe you wouldn’t fall apart.

“No,” your voice was low and weak, “and I’m scared. I don’t know why. I’m happy, but terrified, does that even make sense?”

He kissed the back of your head, “I’ve got you.”

The rest of the time was silent, just appreciating the warmth the other offered. You made him go look at it, not trusting yourself to be able to stand in that moment.

“It’s positive,” He said, trying to conceal his excitement.

“Really?” Your face lit up and he lit up too, sweeping you off your feet into a hug he wished would have lasted for a hundred years.

“Yeah, Love, really. You’re going to be a mom!”

Happy tears breached both of your eyes, “And you’re going to be a dad!”

He groaned at the memory, wishing that slice of pure bliss would have lasted. He felt so much happiness in that moment, maybe too much. Maybe we’re all given an allotted amount of happiness at birth. Maybe he only had so much happiness in his body, and he used all his happiness up with you. That would make sense, because he hadn’t found a speck of genuine happiness in his life without you.

“When you told me it was positive, that was simultaneously the happiest and most terrifying moment of my entire life. I was elated. Over the moon. Ecstatic. Because I always wanted a baby and I always wanted a baby with you. But I was scared. I was scared because pregnancy is scary and birth is supposed to feel like breaking all your bones at once or something. I was scared because I didn’t know if I had the money to get the best crib and best everything for our baby. I was scared because our baby would have two parents with dangerous jobs that we might not come home from. It’s the sad truth of our lives Spencer. We’ve stared down the barrels of many guns, been taken and tortured, looked evil in its eyes. I was scared because instead of living in that moment of pure happiness and love, I was looking ahead, as if anything in this life is guaranteed.

I ignored my fears, like I ignore everything I really should be looking in the eyes, and let us be happy. All I ever wanted was for us to be happy. And that was the start of when we were the happiest.

Everyday was full of baby name lists and Mozart and nutritionally balanced meals you made for me. You fed me a lot of sweet potatoes, because “Sweet potatoes are high in vitamin A, Y/N, and you need to increase your vitamin A intake by about 20% during pregnancy.” The only problem was I hate sweet potatoes, and all I really wanted to eat was loaded nachos and cheese fries.

Being pregnant with the smartest man in the world had its pluses and minuses. On the plus side, you knew everything about everything. If I ever felt a funny movement or a weird symptom, you knew what was going on. Because of JJ (another thing I chose to ignore). But that was also a minus, because I’d tell you my tummy hurt and suddenly you’d overreact and make me call my doctor. I’d laugh and tell you it was all okay, I didn’t have any rare conditions that have only ever affected 3 people in the history of the world. I was okay. Me and her, we were okay.”

Spencer stopped. Her? You actually used ‘her?’ You never did that. After everything happened you referred to her as ‘the baby’ because it made it less personal. If you called her ‘her’ or by the name you’d chosen, that made it real. Neither of you wanted it to be real.

You had cried over this page heavily, the words marked by inky tear stains. He was following suit, staring at that word.

Her. A girl. His daughter. His girl.

“You’d give me weekly updates on how big the baby was and what was growing and changing. And trust me, I felt growing and changing. And to me, it felt like sore boobs and vomiting. Pregnancy did not make me glow, it made me dull and gray and cranky and somehow still so happy. I was happy because of you.

You listened to me compare the pros and cons of virtually identical bassinets while you rubbed my feet. You laid your head on my belly, even before there was a bump and listened or talked to her about your day. You always got me potato chips. You removed every vanilla candle in our house when the smell made me want to hurl. You were understanding when I’d snap at the littlest things or cry at a sad commercial. You made every stomach ache and hip ache feel better, even if you did fact dump about it every four seconds. I got so caught up in being a mom-to-be that I often forgot you were a dad-to-be, too. I’m sorry for that. I should've supported you the way you supported me, through everything. For that, I'm truly sorry.

Remember when everyone found out? We decided to wait to tell them, at least into week twelve, just in case something happened.

“If a miscarriage were to happen, it would most likely occur in the first trimester;” you explained one day, while I had my grubby little hands in a plate of loaded sweet potato fries (a compromise).

“My mom always said it's bad luck,” I said, “But I’m happy to keep this between us. I wish we could live in this bubble of happiness forever, Spencer.”

I still wish we could’ve lived in that bubble forever, but it popped.

We still went to work like usual. They all knew something was up. I was opting out of takedowns and always eating. Like, always. Derek knew not to go to the vending machine without getting something for me. I sized up in Kevlar and Rossi did mention that I was looking ‘glowy’ a few times. No one asked us though, which is a surprise given the people we work with. They knew we loved each other before we even did, so I’m sure they knew I had one in the oven.

We told them by getting a onesie that said “FUTURE FBI AGENT” on it. Super cheesy, but perfect for us. We showed up to a carbonara ala Rossi dinner with it stashed in my purse.

“No wine?” Rossi asked me and I shook my head no, “Okay Bella, okay.”

He sent me a knowing look with a grin. Classic Rossi, always the dad.

After dessert, we stood up, clinking a class and you held me close.

“Attention, everyone!”

The whole crew stared at us, and you gave them the line you had rehearsed in the car on the way over, “The BAU is my family, and I love you all so dearly. which is why Y/N and I would like to tell you that we have a new recruit coming in February!”

We each took one sleeve of this adorably tiny onesie and held it up, everyone cheering and clapping and congratulating us.

The boys patted you on the back, Penelope tackled me in a hug, Blake kissed your cheeks. Even JJ had a genuine smile for us. It was perfect. Literally perfect. That may be the best moment of my life. It was me and you, sharing the most important part of our lives with the people most important to us. My heart aches just thinking about them. God, they were so excited. Garcia and Derek bought me gifts. JJ gave me advice. We sent Emily a picture of me and you with that baby onesie, and she texted me everyday to ask how I was feeling. My dad was over the moon, he didn’t even care that we weren’t married. Diana was the happiest of them all. She was so excited for you to have this journey, and she told me she was glad it’d be with me. She once wrote to me that a dream of hers was to be a grandma, and when you were a kid she thought that may never happen, since you were so smart and special and different. She thought no one would ever understand you enough to love you like that. She said that all changed when she met me. She could tell I understood you and loved you. So tell Diana that I’m sorry I couldn’t give her that dream and that I hope she gets her wish of being a grandma one day. I hope you get your wish to be a dad, too. It may kill me to know that you’d be out there parenting without me, but it may kill me more if you never get to have that dream Spencer Reid. So do it. Break my heart a million times over. It’s worth it as long as you’d be happy at the end of it all.”

He sighed shakily, he’d only be happy at the end of it all if it was with you, an option that seemed less and less likely with each passing letter.

The box contained that little onesie. He held it up, astonished at how small it was. How could a person ever be so tiny? He let himself cry into it, the onesie still smelling like you. He remembered ordering it online, sneaking it in your purse and the look on everyone’s faces when he gave his little speech. He remembered JJ squeezing him tight and telling him he’d be amazing and how happy she was that Henry and Jack would have a new friend. He remembered Derek slapping him on the back and commenting how pretty the baby would be, “You and Y/N? We may have a new pretty boy in the house soon!”

He remembered Rossi immediately finding a copy of ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’ on a shelf in his massive mansion, and giving it to him with a kiss on both cheeks. He remembered sneaking to Vegas to tell his mother, how she leapt up and swallowed him in a hug. But perhaps the most memorable and meaningful interaction he had that night was with Hotch.

He came up to Spencer separately, at the end, and gave him his own fatherly wisdom, “Congratulations, Reid. This is going to be the greatest adventure of your life, and you’re going to be an amazing father.”

Spencer smiled, looking over at you, hands all over your barely there belly, giggling with Garcia and Derek, “Because of her.”

“What?”

Spencer cleared his throat, “I’m going to be a great father, because she makes me a great man.”

Hotch smiled and brought Spencer into a hug, two rare occurrences, “I felt the same way about Haley.”

Spencer felt Hotch stiffen, and he waited for him to finish, “My only advice to you is to not be me. If she makes your world spin a little faster, if she makes life a little better, if she makes the job easier, then don’t wait. I waited too much with Haley. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

Spencer smiled, knowing then what he needed to do. You did make his world spin faster. You made the world a better place.

“I won’t, Hotch,” He cleared his throat, “I promised her that much.”

But there he was now, making all the same mistakes Hotch had. He had waited. He said he wouldn’t but he still did. He poured himself into work instead of love, just like Hotch, and it led him to his rock-bottom. He was staring at a baby onesie that should’ve held his baby, except he had no baby, and he had no you.

He toyed with the snaps on the bottom, undoing them and redoing them in an attempt to relieve stress. He could imagine what she would’ve looked like. He thought she’d be chubby, like a little michelin man with rolls on her knees and elbows. He thought her hair would be brown and curly, like his, and her eyes would hold the universe in them like yours did. He thought that he’d love her tenfold the amount he loved you, which was a lot. He wondered if when he saw her face his heart would be too full and give out then and there.

“My favorite memory of being pregnant is that day we went to Meridian Hill Park, remember? You fixed up a picnic basket full of nutritious foods, sneaking a bag of saltines just in case I felt sick. That was one of the last days, if I remember right. It was week eighteen. I looked like I had a basketball shoved under my dress. The doctor’s said I was measuring large; the baby would probably be nine pounds. We knew she was a girl. We didn’t have some big gender reveal, we just had the doctor tell us at the ultrasound.

You set the blanket down, helping me sit and get situated. It was mid-October, so the leaves were bright yellow and orange. You had on a cozy sweater and brought a blanket to drape over my legs. I remember eating a few apple slices and leaning on you, just admiring the world. I looked over at you and smiled. Your hair was shorter and you were sitting cross-legged, slouching and eating a sandwich.

“You know what would be a cute name for her?” You said, shifting to allow me to lay my head on your lap.

“Hm?”

“Annabelle.”

“Like from the Poe story?”

“Technically, it’s a poem, but yes.”

“Doesn’t she die in it?”

You shrugged, “Yes, but it has such beautiful lines. ‘We loved with a love that’s more than love, I and my Annabell Lee.”

Your hand met my rather large bump, and upon hearing you whisper “Annabell Lee” the baby kicked, right into your hand.

You looked down at me, smiling, “See she likes it! Don’t you Annabelle?”

I rolled my eyes, “Must everything be macabre with you Reid?”

You gave me pleading eyes, “Even without the poem, it’s still a beautiful name. It’s of English origin and means gracious or beautiful.”

“Annabelle Diana Reid,” I said, trying it on for size.

You scrunched up your eyebrows and nose, “Diana?”

I shrugged, “I thought it’d be nice, and that makes for a really pretty name.”

You grinned, “I love it, and I love you, and I love Annabelle. I promise I will love you both for the rest of my life.”

I like to think you’ve kept that promise.

You kissed me gently, the sun washing over us and a few stray leaves falling, just you, me, and Anna.

I don’t believe in jinxes or superstitions. I believe in science and facts. But some part of me can’t shake the feeling that if we picked a different name things would’ve been different. Maybe if she was an Ava or an Olivia we wouldn’t be here. But she was Annabelle. Our Annabelle.

I got rid of every other speck of baby stuff from this place. When you were off on cases and I was at home, I filled a bag with the few things we had gotten and dropped them off at the Salvation Army. I couldn’t bear parting with this onesie though, in fact I’m having a hard time even giving it to you. But she was yours too. My favorite part of the poem is this:

‘And neither the angels in Heaven above, nor the demons down under the sea, can ever dissever my soul from the soul, of the beautiful Annabel Lee’”

Spencer crumpled the letter up. He was done reading this. He had to stop, his breath and heart rate were skyrocketing. He felt he’d been chewed up and spit out. He wanted to scream or punch a wall. His sadness forming into an angry monster that he couldn’t contain. He threw the crumpled letter across the room with a yell.

When he realized what he had done, he quickly tried to flatten the paper out, “No, no, no no! Please”

Hot tears were streaming down his face uncontrollably making his vision bleary and the letter even harder to read. He needed you. You always knew how to calm him down and he needed that now. His mom was right, you did understand him. You were probably the only person alive who ever really, truly, did.

He grabbed his phone, scrolling to find your contact name. He didn’t press ‘call’. He just stared at the ten numbers, frozen, and allowed himself to sob.

Part 12!

Taglist!

@l0ve-0f-my-life @aperrywilliams @helloniallslovelies @random-ravings (tag isnt working) @ajwantsapancake @andiebeaword @boiled-onionrings @frnks-stuff @icantevenanymore1 @mellifluouswildbluebells @rottenearly @sammypotato67 @blushingwueen @peaxhyjaes @justanotherfangurlz @juniorgman187 @mbowles23-blog @blameitonthenight21 @goldentournesol @rainsong01 @thelifeofadumbbitch @swimmingtrashwobblersludge (not working)

#spencer reid #spencer x you #spencer reid fic #spencer #reid #reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #cm #cm fic #criminal minds #mgg #spencer reid smut #spencer reid self insert #matthew gray gubler

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wavesmp3 · 4 years ago

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directors cut: oasis

[doing this entirely for myself, out of pure self indulgence lol] [this will be very messy/poorly organized and there will be spoilers]

okay so where to even begin omg..... we will start with the origins of oasis:

its actually, techinically a spin off of the world from this drabble with dino from svt. which the world in this drabble is what the world from oasis would look like very far in the future. but i changed a lot between writing that drabble and creating oasis. but there should be a scene in the drabble that is very similar to a part in oasis (hint: the first vision they got from saskila was not just a random vision with no meaning.......hehe)

but that drabble (its titled dreamscapes) was inspired by a mix of this post on tumblr about how nuclear waste warning signs sounded very cool and the book that i was reading called the children of blood and bone by tomi adeyemi

and then after i had made that drabble i saw dee’s (@/atbzkingdom’s) post about the time capsule collab, and i had a couple ideas of what i could do for it but i ultimately decided on what would eventually become oasis !! so i guess we really have dee and that collab to thank for this piece lol

now for the timeline of me writing:

so i started outlining this piece in the first couple days of january, and normally outlines take me a while to come up with just because i struggle in coming up with plot, but i knew that my spring semester of classes would be starting soon and that I didn’t have a lot of time so i just sort of grinded an outline out as well several paragraphs of pure worldbuilding.

and then i started writing

and wow i was Really writing!! at my peak productivity i was easily getting down like 2k a day which for me is insane (for reference, i wrote 1k a day for tsiytt and i struggled my way through that)

but then life happens classes had begun and my writing for oasis slowly become nothing...

i really only found the time to work on the piece every other weekend, so i was really nervous that i wouldn’t finish in time (which technically i didn’t cause it was supposed to come out march 1st) but luckily i did

and at some point in february, i had lost so much of my momentum and motivation for this piece that i almost gave up on it. (at this point i was writing the scenes after they find the seat of wisdom destroyed) but again luckily i did not, but i personally can definitely see a decline in the quality of my writing towards the end (i mean maybe its in my head, but its sort of like i can see the loss of love for the wip in my writing at the end of it)

but don’t misunderstand, i still love oasis!! and in all honesty, i’m already considering starting a second draft to it, which is way sooner than i thought i would lol

also when i started writing this piece, i began writing it in the order that it would be read, but then halfway i switched to writing chronologically

anyways, something i learned while writing this piece, is that writing is a marathon. whereas, even with my longer pieces, i always viewed writing as a sprint. so as i start venturing into original works and more lengthy pieces of writing, i think this was a very valuable lesson for me to have learned.

okay now to the good stuff lol: [the first word of the bullet about the next chapter (?) is bolded for some crumbs of an organized commentary]

so this is jumping to the first past bit... but when i first wrote farah i had a very different plan for her character than who she ended up being. i had imagined that she’d be a lot more cold and a tough love sort of person. so that’s who i was writing when she’s first introduced in the flashback, but she very quickly become a much kinder full of love sort of person. but anyways i mention this because whenever i read that first part and the introduction of her character, i’m always a bit taken aback by how like mean here character is to crown then lol

also zoar !!!! its a terrible place, but i love that underground city

i also wrote the first flashback after i had written the scene where crown and chanhee are talking at his place in andhor, so the whole “fearless” connection was done very purposefully here since i knew how it’d be referenced in the next scene. someone mentioned this small connection in their reblog but i cant remember who

also rashi is my favorite character xD

i personally think how crown and chanhee became friends (the running thing) is so cute

this first bit of conversation between crown and chanhee when it switches back to the present and chanhee is giving them a tour of andhor is actually quite important to me, in the sense that its the first glimpse of how their actual relationship works and how they act together and just like their dynamic despite the fact that they havent seen each other in so long

and yeah i think kyu mentioned this and a few others, but i love how awkward it is when chanhee and crown are in his home in andhor, cause one: they havent seen each other in years! but also: anyone else find going to someone’s place for the first time oddly intimate, like wow you’re opening up your home to me and now suddenly idk how to sit or stand or what to do with my arms... maybe just me LMAO

DUDE i struggled so hard with making it so that chanhee knew how impossible this whole mission was going to be without actually revealing that he knows about the mirror. it was so hard for me, hopefully it came out alright though. if anyone is reading this, did the twist(s) come as a shock to you? did you see it coming? or did it feel like it came out of absolutely no where and not in a good way?

yes i did name the desert after the department store kohls .....

i was so excited to explain all the mage types, i had so much fun writing this whole chapter

fun fact: there was originally another sub group of psyche mages called dream mages who had like powers with dreams and stuff, but it ended up being irrelevant and really underdeveloped so it took it out

if anyone else was raised catholic or is catholic then i’d hope you recognize the names of all the relics.... i stole them from a prayer in the rosary whoops

it took me very long time to figure out exactly how the whole soul for the relic business would work, and idk if im a 100% satisfied with what it is/how it works/how it plays into rashi giving chanhee the locket

the note new gives crown.... the first slice of their friendship blooming, bro i eat that shit up

this part where crown and rashi are talking after the lesson is actually one of my favorites. (like i said i love rashi, but i just really love her interreacting with crown, i think they have such an interesting dynamic and one that i’ve seen irl a lot between students and teachers, where the student adores the teacher... i’ll get more into this later) but moving on, i like it for a number of reasons. one: it’s the first time we as readers get to see rashi talk outside of her role as lesson master. two: i love crown getting this validation from rashi. it’s not really expanded on a lot, but crown’s magic is definitely a bit of an insecurity for them, in the way that they don’t feel like it belongs to them. but here rashi comes, this person that crown looks up to so much, and telling crown that they’re a bit similar when it comes to having magic. and surprising crown by comforting them. and... idk i just really love this moment for crown.

okay this line: “You call your mom Rashi?” is a lowkey reference to game plan,, if anyone knows what i’m talking about then please come clown me for nearly having the entire movie memorized

oh, i also find the capital really cool. in my head the capital was always one huge building that contains an entire city but i realized while editing that i never really explained that, so idk if i successfully described the capital as cool as it is to me

also the five friends part.....CUTE

when chanhee says “i know. i remember.” !!! girl i felt that line with my entire chest. idk why

okay wait this part: “But that knowledge seems to fall flat right now. Because despite everything, curiosity won the war.” i love it so much, its that tiny of sliver of hope that gets me personally

i think this part where crown’s pride is so hurt by no one telling them about chanhee’s healing magic is quite important because its a glimpse of how stubborn and prideful and headstrong of a character they can be

also this : “ ‘and do you believe everything rashi says’ / without hesitation, you answer, ‘yes, of course’ “ this is another example of how highly crown thinks of rashi while growing up, almost to a fault. to the point where crown thought rashi could do no wrong. which i think is so interesting to think about when contrasted with the fight crown and chanhee have in the jungle where crown is the one discussing how rashi was wrong. i just like how much growth crown has had between all these years. and their opinion / perspective on rashi is one of the largest indicators of that growth.

I also just really like that paragraph where shadow vs healing is explained... I think chanhee’s magic is so sick

oh also the names thing.... I can’t remember where I got the idea to do that from but im so glad I did. its one of my favorite aspects to this world, and it looks like a lot of other people enjoyed it as well. but apart from the intimacy of it, i love how the use of names affects one’s magic. and that paragraph where they go through all that a mage could do with a name. it gives me chills. just cause.... the possibilities

so many people have mentioned this line.... but I must too, so this part: “magic always comes with a price. this is new’s” ..... crazy

saskila scares me omg

again the first vision they see is not a random scene.... the easter eggs I planted with that mwahaha

yeah that scene where they’re outside the tent discussing who should give their name to saskila..... I love that scene chanhee’s “I don’t have anyone but you” and crown deflecting all that tension with the pinky promise and the saskila calling them lovers.... mwah

this random scene about the hot summer and laying with Farah and new in the gardens is another one of my favorite, it’s just so sweet

but this next scene makes me so sad

like I know what happens and I know that everything turns out okay but I get so scared for crown

yeah just that entire part after Rashi gets to them and when they’re going to the infirmary and before crown passes out... I love that whole part. i think i did an effective job of writing the gravity of that whole moment. cause it makes me a little stunned every time I read it. and I was pretty nervous about not being able to do that scene and that moment justice so I’m glad it turned out like it did

and again this line: magic always comes with a price, and in your case, it comes with several.

okay this part after they jump out of the ship and crown is talking to Chanhee but that other dude is talking too... I hope it’s not too confusing. I really wanted to show through the writing that this was all happening at the same time, but idk it came out well. like in my mind I have such a clear picture of this scene, but I have no clue if I did effective job of showing you guys what I’m seeing through the writing

oh yeah, crowns thing about dual wielding and engulfing the blades in flames.... I find that so cool. they’re so sick for that

yeah also the part where crowns hurt and they give Chanhee their name and they use it.... great moment, but I feel like my writing is a bit lacking here. i just know it could be better.

I think at this point of writing my classes had started, and again the disparity in writing quality is so obvious to me

but the line where chanhee is describing how it all feels, and it says “chanhee feels golden” was inspired by daylight by taylor swift, theres a line in that song that goes “i used to think love would be burning red, but its golden” and like hello the parallels between that and crown’s fire magic.... something to think about

so this next part where it’s back to the past and crown is getting in trouble (as crown does) but the part where crown is like asking but not directly asking for rashi’s name.... that part is so crazy to me cause it’s feels so out of place. but it was purposeful. i was trying to show that crown’s growing and that they’re at this weird age where they feel invincible. and also i wanted to put more emphasis on how being royal and the heir to the throne kind of effects the relationships crown has

and the last line of this part when rashi says “never abuse it” it gives me chills whew

the next part ... another part that i had high hopes for in the outlining stages of writing, but when it came to actually writing, this scene totally flopped, i’m gonna try not to dwell on this part too much cause i just know most of my comments will be about how much i don’t like it. but just overall, this scene could have been SO MUCH BETTER !

omg this little interaction: ““Look!” Chanhee deadpans, shooting you a glare. “The match is about to begin.” / “Wish me luck.” / “I hope you lose.”” i think its so funny and cute

“ Your eyes immediately got to Rashi “ another example of how highly crown regards rashi

“In Wurltan.” hmmmmmm sus.... *laughs in i love mentioning things that won’t make sense to reader until later*

okay this: “Yes, but not just any mage. I…” your voice trails off, pulling at your fingers and looking anywhere but at him. “I wanted you to know.” i cannot stand these two omg

okay this part: “Chanhee thinks and overthinks the words spoken between you both. His mind drifts off to last night as well, that moment in the tent where you shared your warmth. He doesn’t even realize he’s staring at you until you give him a funny look. He quickly looks away and wonders if you’re overthinking everything as relentlessly as he is.” this part makes me think about what ina said about how chanhee shows his love by keeping you in his thoughts and YEAH chanhee’s love language in this piece is thinking about you and staring LOL

i hate this next part, not cause i don’t like it or anything it just makes me sad

but this line: “Like if someone shoved you from behind right now, you wouldn’t push back; you’d let yourself fall straight to the ground.” i actually love that line

also this next entire bit i see SO clearly in mind, i hope i wrote it well enough so that you all saw it clearly too

when chanhee wipes the dirt.... girl i’m wiping my tears

this line : “We’ll lean on each other.” mini love declaration sighhhhhh

yeah that whole part i love so much

the seat of wisdom :(((( no!!!!!

so about this line: “He stares at his palms, at all the lies buried under each nail and at all the secrets shoved in every crack. He watches as they all blow up in front of his face.” >> i had like ten different versions of it before i settled on this one lol

okay so the first part of the last past flashback with crown realizing their true feelings... so soft

news gone, rashis’s dead, :((( it makes me so sad

gosh okay this paragraph..... “I’ve always wondered why the gods blessed me and you the way that they have. They entrusted you with such great power. The only person to be both a healing and shadow mage in centuries. And then,” a tear falls from her eye, “they entrusted you to me.” Chanhee thinks this might be the first time he’s seen Rashi cry. “But now I have reason to believe that this was no accident. I’m beginning to think that the gods have always known it would come to this. And I’m starting,” she falters there, “I’m starting to spite them for it.” it hurts so bad im sorry

the first confrontation with harlan took me so long to write, and i’m still not sure if i actually like it, so again i will refrain from commenting lol

but the part where crown screams : “YOU LOST THE MIRROR OF JUSTICE!” I think i told kyu this but this line makes me laugh because in my head its said the same way bella says: “you nicknamed my daughter after the lochness monster” whenever i see that line i smile lol

honestly this argument scene..... one of my absolute faves,,, everything lina said about it in that reblog just yes!yes!yes!! i can’t even comment about a particular part because all of it i love so much. its another part that leaves me slightly speechless.

but my favorite part of it might be how it ends hehe

these next couple parts were a bit diffucult to write because obviously the air between crown and chanhee is not very light right now so it was just hard to navigate their dynamic at these moments until they apologize but hopefully it turned out alright

i really like this line: “But this moment—with the scent of Harlan’s wine under his nose and the chill of Harlan’s blade against his neck—this moment feels nothing like those. It feels empty.”

“ Chanhee just stares at you.“ -- staring as a love language exhibit b

this whole part... chills bro

“Chanhee exhales because for the first time since this afternoon he looks at your face and sees you.” -- exhibit c ....

okay wait another one of my favorite parts here: the spilled glass metaphor!! again please reference lina’s rb on this because everything said there... could not have said better myself. inspired by this writing advice by ocean vuong and yeah i just think the metaphor speaks for itself, one of my favorite lines (well paragraph) from the entire piece, actually from ALL of my works

it was so hard to think up all of yumi’s different names, i was struggling

them talking about how farah will be happy to see chanhee...... how do i break it to you crown.....she’s dead...... awkward

red streak q! yesss. also i’m so sorry for killing off farah

also kyunyu bestiessss

tbh this whole paragraph: “I get this overwhelming burst of honesty. As if what you both speak of is more than just a simple truth, as if it’s a commandant you blindly follow. What’s even odder is that I only feel that burst when you speak of each other.” Q stops walking and turns so that he faces Chanhee directly. “You speak of Crown constantly. And last night, when I met Crown, your title never left from the tip of their tongue. Humans are so simple really. We mention what we love.” Q pauses for a moment, bringing a hand under his chin. “Do you love Crown?” --i wrote it for myself no regrets

oh wait this bit too : “Quietly, Chanhee says, “I know.” / “Have you been watching?” / “I’ve been waiting.” / “For what?” / He meets your eyes. “For you.”” -- sometimes i do things that live rent free in my own mind

okay im so sorry for just quoting myself but this too : “ He sits back slightly. Shocked. Not by his love for you, but rather by how easily love walked into his heart and settled between his lungs “

lol the part where they try fooling q... why are crown and chanhee like this

the running !!!

yeah also every part after that... tears okay

yumi’s magic !!! its so cool to me, i love it so much

i surprisingly don’t have much to say about the end... i mean i like it, but i just don’t have any comments. the last line tho... good one shawna

okay im done for you sake i hope no one read this lmao

#oasis #mine #not sure what else to tag this lol #oh #directors commentary #this got so long for no reason

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

Text

Of Love and Flowers

word count: 4,006

warnings: sfw

a/n: this was supposed to come out a few days ago, but i’m trash lmao and didn’t have it ready at all until this morning!!!! if you follow me, I told you the theme about this post through an ask meme yesterday ;) enjoy

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“We are shaped and fashioned by what we love.” - Johann Wolfgang von

There are 20,182,852 words in the world.

There are over 2,000 used kanji in the Japanese language.

There are over 100 different words of expressing that you love someone.

There is only one way to say ‘I love you.’

There is only one Todoroki Shouto.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Flower shops are some of the most peaceful places in the world. The air smells heavily of the perfume from the plants. The toasty environment of the room, the way that rain or shine it was always bright in the shop.

The flowers sitting in each of their own little packages call and entrance strangers. Making people fish out a few yen to buy someone they loved a flower. Most always grabbed a simple red rose, the most iconic sign of love.

Love.

Your fingers ghosted over the flowers before you. The waxy softness of the petal running smoothly under your fingertip. The frosty coldness of February winter clung to your face as you stared at the carnations on display.

“Are you getting any flowers today, brat?” The small flower shop owner barks at you. Her wrinkled hands go to sit on her waist in a sassy pose, her eyes squinted as she looked up at you. “All you do is come to stare at my flowers, touch them with your oily fingers, and scare off my customers!”

The stance she is taking should be one of reprimanding, but your face warms in love for her. “Sorry, Ami-sama, these carnations were just calling my name today.” You laugh pulling at the white carnation that you had been admiring.

“What’s so good about getting yourself flowers?! Why don’t you get that handsome boyfriend of yours to get you some flowers? Tch, you bring him around once and now I never see him again! Who do you take me for?” She scolds you, her arms folded as she thinks about who you brought.

“Ami-sama, you know—” Your eyes widen at her judgment, but she continues on.

“He was such a handsome boy, tall and strong looking, too! He could do something about that scar… tell him I know someone with a quirk who can remove all scars! Just because of you I’ll give him her number, and she’ll do it for free!”

The groan that leaves your lips is joined with a wispy trail of air that leaves your mouth.

Deciding not to fight her, you smile politely. “As much as Shouto would appreciate the number, I don’t think he wants to get rid of his scar.”

“Bah,” Ami humphs as she takes the white carnation and places it within your fingers. “Using his first name though? I didn’t realize you young lovers were that deep in your relationship!”

Your face flushes as you take the flower. You and Shouto that deep in your relationship? No, he just asked you to call him that and who were you to say no? After all—

“Aren’t you going back to school, brat? You’re going to be late! Don’t you dare make me take that flower back!” Ami harasses you shooing you away as you laugh loudly.

“I’ll be back after classes to pick up flowers for my friend’s birthday!” You call out as you take off running.

“Bring back your handsome boyfriend, he makes me want to be young again!” She yells out after to you.

You don’t really hear her as you continue running. You had gone home on Saturday night to spend Sunday with your family because you had to go to visit the doctor. It was now Monday morning. As it was the end of your second year in U.A., you were running down the old familiar streets to get to the school’s campus. The white carnation in your hand a hopeful prayer for the rest of the week.

This was going to be a good week.

This was going to be the best week.

“Y/n?” A voice called for you as you crashed through the front gates.

Out of breath, you snapped your head to your left to see Shouto standing there. Backpack slung on his shoulder, eyes light in amusement as you waved.

“You just got back, too?” Shouto asks as he waits for you to come and walk with him. You nod your head, unable to speak still, it was just so hard to breathe. “How was your visit?”

“Oh… ya know…” You pant as you drag your heels over to where Shouto is waiting for you. “Went to the doctor’s appointment and my mom made me so much food.”

“How was the doctor’s appointment?” Shouto asks out of concern. His eyebrows raised as the two of you begin walking towards the school building. Other students were also making their way into the glass building.

“Well,” You sigh looking away from him. “I was told that they don’t know why I’m having issues with my breathing? Just to keep monitoring it and I’ll be going back in to get more testing done.”

Shouto nods his head as he opens the door for you, letting you step through before himself. “You’ll let me know right away what’s wrong, right?”

“You’ll be the first to know.” You giggle softly as the two of you make your way to the lockers. “Shouto, do you want this flower?” You ask handing him carnation with a soft smile.

Looking at it, Shouto’s face contorts slightly. “Depends, what does it mean?��

“Sweet and lovely, women’s good luck gift, and innocence.” You hum looking back at him with a grin. “I think it’s a perfect flower. Don’t you think?”

Shouto smiles softly, one that knocks your breath from your lungs as he takes it from your fingers. Chills run down your arms as his warm hands brush against yours. Your eyes flutter closed as his warm and soft lips come to press against your cheeks. Electricity flowing through your being as he pulls away.

“Thank you, y/n,” Shouto whispers to you.

Unable to speak, your body and mind so convoluted with only the mere thought of Shouto, you nod.

“Are you ready to walk to class?” He asks looking down at the pristine flower. How incredibly fit for a man like Shouto.

The tightness in your chest increases at the sound of his voice as you shake your head. “I need to use t-the restroom really quick? You can go on without me, I’ll catch up?”

Shouto sighs, but agrees as he waves and leaves you as you quickly rush towards the restroom.

Oh, how he made you feel so warm and safe.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Daisy chains were so beautiful.

A true statement of floral beauty, yet so irritating to make.

The stems of the daisies crinkled under your hold. Your eyebrows scrunching as you concentrated on the logistics of this small task. You were nearly done with the crown, but your fingers shook as if this was loop one.

“What are you making?” A voice asks from behind you.

Having long ago sensed them, you don’t flinch as you secure the daisy onto the chain.

“Ami-sama had asked for me to make her… three daisy chains…” You mumble concentrating on the task at hand. “I don’t know why either. But, she did request I bring you with me when I drop it off.”

Shouto shifts from behind you to come and sit down on the couch beside you. “I think Ami really likes me?” He remarks as if unsure if that was correct.

“Ami-sama is obsessed with you,” You mumble as you look at the half-and-half boy.

Placing down the daisy chain you grinned at Shouto. Shouo was now admiring the already finished chains. The warm air of May weather filled the common room, as you pulled your hair from its ponytail. Shouto’s fingers gently trace around the crown until he finally places it down.

Your chin was tucked between your knees, your feet resting on the couch. You continued to gaze at Shouto as he looks at you.

“Would you mind teaching me?” Shouto asked with a small smile.

A small smile with the power to steal your breath away. Your own small smile overcomes your features as you shift closer to Shouto, “Here!” You say grabbing the other group of daisies.

With your shoulder pressed against Shouto’s arm, you explained to him how to make the daisy chain. Your instructions clear, concise, and soft. Shouto listened to every single word willingly, intensely, and carefully. Your smaller hands sat on top of his as you showed him how to make the chain. The tremor in your fingers is now gone as you guided him. His warm hands following your every action. The two of you moving without instruction, without words. Your breathing stills as he suddenly looks at you. His eyes softly opened, his lips inviting you in, and his aroma stilling your pounding chest.

Why did he have this effect on you?

“Do you think this is something my girlfriend would appreciate if I made her one?” He asks you, a small and goofy smile on his face.

“She would.” You grin back, your cheeks hurting as you giggled softly.

“What do daisies mean?” Shouto asks as he begins making the daisy chain without your assistance.

“Innocence, I’ll never tell, and purity.” You inform him as you grab your own chain.

“You really know your flowers.” Shouto murmurs as he reaches for another daisy.

He was much better at this than you were, but you didn’t mind at all. Seeing him making these chains here with you was enough to keep your competitive spirit down.

“It’s my secret talent,” You tease with a grin. “My grandma has a flower-based quirk, super weird. Whenever she has emotions flowers will sprout on her body, so I learned them all just in case she was ever sad.”

Shouto hums as he nods, his eyes flickering over to you again.

“I don’t know anything except red roses and white lilies.”

“Love, I love you.” You say as you focus back onto the daisies, your face burning as you felt Shouto whip his head towards you. “Purity and majesty.”

“Yes,” Shouto laughs a little as he shakes his head. After all, you had never once told him those words. It would be a pretty lame confession to say it right now. “Maybe I didn’t know lilies after all?”

Your returned your sights on the boy who held your heart. “What did you think it meant?”

“You’ve made my life complete.” Shouto sighs, his eyes locking with yours.

A blush overcomes your cheeks as you shake your head. What an idiot throwing meanings like that around. “That is the meaning behind lily of the valley.” You correct with a shake of your head. “Those flowers you have to be careful with, they’re—”

“Invasive and toxic,” Shouto says with you.

A gleaming smile overcomes your face as you nod, “You do know something about flowers.”

“You made me slightly interested in them, y/n,” Shouto confesses with a small shove to your shoulder. Confusion fills you as you stare at Shouto, his eyes locking with yours as his head slightly tilts. Clearing his throat, a soft pink hue spreads on his cheeks. “You’re so passionate about flowers that I had to learn something about it.”

Without asking, as you were overcome with your love for the boy sitting next to you, your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him into a hug.

“The daisies!” Shouto reminds you, but you don’t let go as you feel Shouto move the flowers around for him to finally hug you back.

His arms are safe, warm, and you want nothing more than to melt in his embrace and never again come out.

It takes a few moments more, but you pull away, your cheeks burning as Shouto tells you that it’s okay. There is no reason to be embarrassed.

“Well,” Shouto stands finally, the daisy chains now completed. “I have a date to prepare for.” His smile is warm as it is loving.

You roll your eyes playfully as you nudge him, “Go get ready. I’ll see you later?”

“Of course.”

As you watch him leave, you cough. Your chest feels tight as you stand up, going to use the restroom. There wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for that boy.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

The tarnished flowers in front of you made you tremble.

Broken flowers on the floor dead, ruined, forever unloved.

You weren’t able to stand up, your stance had you on your knees staring at the colored mess before you.

This couldn’t be happening.

Your fingers trembled as you tried to gather the flowers. The sticky substance from their broken stems is thick against your fingers as you tried to hold them.

Soft and quiet sobs wretched through your body. The desperation in your actions unbecoming as you pulled the flowers to your chest.

“Y/n?” Shouto asks from before you. Your head snaps up to see Shouto kneeling down, gathering the ruined flowers in his hands. “What happened? Who did this to you?” He asks you intently, curiously, and almost angrily.

“I-I wasn’t watching where I was going!” You stammer embarrassed. “I crashed into someone and I ruined your flowers.”

Shouto’s eyebrows relaxed, his eyes widening as he stares at you. “My flowers?”

You hesitate not daring to look up at him just yet, “Y-Yeah.” You whisper. “It’s been a hard few past months, you know that.”

Shouto nods his head, he did know that. Your breathing was still causing you issues and no one knew why.

“You’ve been amazing and sweet, and always there for me!” You explain further, the flowers now in your arms and in his. “I just… I just wanted to show you in a way that made sense to me that I appreciated everything you’ve been doing. I’m not good with words, but I’m great with flowers, so I just wanted to express that in a way that made me happy.”

Shouto’s eyes soften as he chuckles.

“I would have been okay with a simple thank you text.”

“But you’ve been doing too much for a text.” You laugh as he helps you stand up. “I don’t know how to cook cold soba, I also can’t really afford to buy anything expensive, so I figured you’d like some flowers! I mean, I know most don’t but I figured maybe because you like flowers a bit more it could be like… like an inside joke?”

Shouto nods his head as he softly rearranges your hair. His strong fingers pushing your hair into place, careful not to tangle your locks. Your heart rate is high as his fingers stroke your face.

“Well, even though it’s ruined, can I try to see if I understand the message?” He asks you staring at the different arrangements of flowers in the two of your arms.

“Have at it.” You mumble drunk off of his touch.

Shouto stares intently at the different flowers. His cheeks puffing out as the two of you stare at each flower.

“If I’m being honest,” Shouto chuckles. “I don’t actually know how these flowers look like.”

The grin that overcomes your features at that confession makes you forget that you had once been sad.

“Yellow tulip?” You say presenting the flower.

“There’s sunshine in your smile.” Shouto chuckles.

“Sweet pea’s?”

“Thank you for your time.”

“Bells of Ireland?”

“Good luck.”

“You got them!” You praise with a grin. Shouto’s cheeks burn red as he rubs the back of his neck.

“I told you I was…” He mumbles. “I’m glad that I was able to remember all those. There are so many flowers?”

“Oh, I know!” You laugh clutching the flowers closer to you.

“But what about those two flowers you didn’t mention?”

Your eyes fall on the flowers you had been trying to hide.

“Oh, those were put by accident into the bouquet!” You laugh.

“I want to try to give you their meanings though.”

You shake your head insistently. The center of your world paused, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Another day then?”

You nod your head, looking away.

“Can… can I give you a hug right now?” Shouto askes you. “You look like you need one.”

A weak nod is all you can offer Shouto as his arms wrap around you. The different scents of the flowers between you have suddenly stopped smelling. All you can breathe in was the cologne that Shouto uses. Overwhelming and invading, you feel yourself collapsing into his hold as the two of you stand in the middle of the school’s hallway.

“You ready to go?” Shouto asks.

With tears brimming at your eyes you nod your head. “P-Please?”

But he doesn’t notice when you pick a flower petal out of your mouth.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

You were feeling dizzy today. Your body curled into the couch as you watched your classmates struggle to make you feel better.

“You’re a fucking idiot for letting things get this far!” Bakugou yells at you as he slams a tray of food over your lap.

“Don’t yell at her!” Kirishima intervenes, pushing the hot head away from you as he hands you a cup of juice. “You’re fine, y/l/n-chan, but… I think you need to tell him.”

“I can’t tell Shouto…” You mumble as you stare at the food. It looked so delicious, but you knew better than to eat like this. Everything you had been consuming had been immediately thrown up.

Mina shakes her head from beside you, she had a bag for any throw-up, and a box of tissues ready. “Telling Todoroki isn’t going to do anything for her…”

“You don’t know that!” Uraraka interjects. Her face screaming her concern, her permanent blush seemed to be a bit weaker today.

Your hands tremble as you push the tray away from you. “He’s right…” You mutter as you stand up. “I need to tell him…”

“That is not happening.” Came four different voices.

Your chest is tight and heavy and you’re on your feet.

There is so much happening around you, hands grabbing onto your body, trying to get you to stay. There is nothing happening within you, just a power telling you that you needed to talk to Shouto. The reality was that you shouldn’t have won your seven classmates trying to keep you down in the common space. But somehow you persevered pushing through and getting to the top floor.

Your heart hammered in your head, your body feeling weak and shaky as you knocked on his door.

It took only ten seconds until the door was opened, and there stood Shouto.

A white button-down, navy blue slacks, and a black-tie around his neck.

“Y/n?” He asks taken aback, his eyes wide at your physical appearance.

“W-What are you doing?” You ask, your cheeks hot with your sickness.

“I’m finishing getting ready to go out.” He says as he pushes his hair back. “Are you feeling okay?”

Your breathing stopped as you stared at him, what you needed to tell him no longer there as your mouth opened.

“I lied to you.”

Shouto’s eyes narrowed in confusion, “About what?”

“The flowers.”

“What—?”

“White carnations… from the day you caught me coming back from home. T-They also mean pure love. Daisies they also mean loyal love! And the two flowers you saw just l-last week… those are… they’re—”

“Todoroki-kun, are you — oh! Y/l/n-chan I didn’t see you!”

Your body stiffens as you turn to see Momo dressed up in one of her prettiest outfits. A navy blue formal dress that somehow accentuated her curves and made her even more beautiful.

“Yaomomo.” You greeted with a smile. You felt ugly, out of place, a weak girl crying to a man who wasn’t hers. Seeking attention and comfort from a man who would never be hers. “Are you guys going out on a date tonight?”

“Yes! My family is hosting a lavish dinner, and I figured it was time Todoroki-kun met my family!”

Your heart shattered as you pretended to be happy. “C-Congratulations! This is a really big step!” You try to express your elation, but it feels flat.

“I’m ready though, Momo,” Shouto says softly to his girlfriend. “Y/n was just telling me the actual meanings to the flowers.”

“Oh yes, Shouto told me all about how you’ve been helping him with the flowers! You have amazing taste!” Momo gushes as you shake your head looking down.

“I-It’s nothing…” You glance back at Shouto who looked at you, waiting for the rest of the information. “Um, I’ll tell you when you get back? I don’t want to make you late…”

“You sure?”

“Positive…”

“Okay…”

You watched as they walked away, Shouto’s arm wrapping around Momo’s waist as he brings her in close. His lips pressing against hers.

It’s no use.

Your heart hurts too much.

Your lungs giving out as you take off running. You rushed past them, their concerned voices unheard as you slam into your room.

Your head is over the toilet as you pant heavily, a thick wad of something traveling up your throat. Heave after heave, until something splatters into the toilet.

The first flower: a red carnation.

My heart aches for you.

Admiration.

Whimpering cries escape your lips as red petals fly from your mouth. The clear toilet water turning red as blood splattered from your mouth.

It hurts.

It burns.

You admire Shouto, your heart aches for him, but he isn’t yours to have.

Another flower is stuck in your throat before it too tumbles out into the toilet before you.

The second flower: a striped carnation.

No.

Refusal.

Sorry, I can’t be with you.

I wish I could be with you.

Shouto didn’t love you. He denied you long before, a wordless rejection when he told you he had asked Momo out that one night. His eyes told you he was sorry he couldn’t be with you as he had been fighting his own feelings for you, but Momo was safe. Momo made him happy. You wished you had gathered the courage to tell him of your own feelings. You wished you could be with you, you wanted to be with him.

Your body would not stop shaking as striped petals fell mockingly slow into the toilet. Breezing and sweet.

A mockery to the love you held for him.

The one-sided feelings that were to never be reciprocated.

Then the third flower was beginning to make it’s way up, and you stilled.

The doctors said months ago that by the time the third unique flower had come it would be too late.

You didn’t want surgery.

You didn’t want to lose your emotions or memories of Shouto. Not when he made your heart soar. Not when he was everything.

You didn’t want to die.

But nothing was working.

The banging on your door started as soon as you began heaving it up.

The flower strangling you as you tried to breathe.

The flower you had wondered about for the past seven months almost refusing to come out. It stayed until your door was exploded from the hinges.

It expelled from your mouth as you stopped breathing. Your body collapsing as blood streamed from your mouth. Yells falling deaf in your ears as some screamed to call the ambulance. But your eyes focused on the flower that laid mockingly on your chest.

Beautiful, pristine, and unaffected.

A primrose.

The world was quickly turning dark as you mumbled Shouto’s name. Strong arms lifting your dying body as your eyes drifted to the heterochromia eyed boy who now held you. His neck strained as he yelled orders, his eyes snapping back down to yours as he began moving.

His eyes were wide, shocked, scared.

“I love you…” You whisper as your body felt light. “I can’t live without you… and I’m so so sorry Shouto...”

“Y/N!”

#todoroki shouto #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki fluff #bnha writing blog #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha todoroki #bnha imagines #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #mha todoroki #todoroki angst #hanahaki au

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chilling-seavey · 4 years ago

Note

based on ur post about the songs from the album and when they would have been written in ABM- ABM Daniel writing a song for Flora and she hears it for the first time?

By the time Daniel graduated with his bachelor’s degree in music production; he had an album of ten original songs under his belt. His first year was learning the basics but by the time the novel of ABM began, his classes started assigning projects in writing and producing their own songs. We all know that Daniel is incredibly creative and especially so when it comes to his music and this universe is no different, but he was also incredibly protective about his work. He showed Florence snippets of what he had been working on but never full songs because he didn’t want to admit that all his songs were about her.

His inspiration was directly stemmed from her; for every single one of his projects.

Even when Florence and Daniel started dating, he kept his previous songs locked away on his computer in near embarrassment with how lovesick and emotional they all were. They were pieces of his fragile soul from the past two or three years and he was simply a little nervous of opening that back up again.

By his final week of university, Daniel received a CD that was burned with all of his projects in order on it to hear his progression and his professor congratulated him on being one of the top students he had ever seen or taught. Daniel thanked him, went home, and hid the album in the very back of his sock drawer.

Here is the link to ABM Daniel’s University Album.

Thursday, June 16, 2022

It had been in there barely two months when Florence found it. She was doing laundry and putting the clean folded clothes in the drawers when her hand grazed something at the bottom of Daniel’s sock drawer. Curiosity got the better of her and she pushed the folded socks out of the way to reveal a CD case, the cover staring back up at her with one of Daniel’s first year headshots and the title in white across the black and white image; Firenze. ‘Florence’ in Italian.

She set the laundry basket on the floor and picked up the CD from the bottom of the drawer. She flipped it over and skimmed the track list printed on the back. Ten short titled tracks in a row down the middle. Florence figured she shouldn’t go snooping through her fiancé’s things but it wasn’t a gift since her birthday already passed and they never gave each other Christmas gifts so she carried it back out to the bedroom.

Daniel was watching the girls in the living room while Florence was doing laundry so she had a moment of privacy to close the bedroom door and bring out her laptop. She slid the CD into the disk drive and put in her earbuds to listen to the mysterious album that had been hidden from her for nearly four years. The front cover slid out like a real professional album and she flipped it open as the songs loaded into iTunes.

The first song was titled Just to See You Smile. Written and Produced by Daniel Seavey, 1st year Music Production student, March 2019.

Florence smiled at the gentle piano that led the introduction to the song and then Daniel’s youthful voice that came in next. She couldn’t believe he never showed her this song; probably too nervous since it was his first, but it was sweet and it made her smile.

The second song was titled Hard. Written and Produced by Daniel Seavey, 2nd year Music Production student, Summer 2019.

She followed along to the lyrics in the small cover booklet, her smile faltering a moment at the lyrics come the pre-chorus. It was obvious as to what it was about, especially being written in Summer of 2019 when Matt was still around and it was often that Florence truly ran crying to Daniel when he hurt her.

The third song was titled Falling. Written and Produced by Daniel Seavey, 2nd year Music Production student, September 2019.

Florence’s expression was flat, the words of the song resonating deep in her mind and the emotion behind Daniel’s voice nearly sent chills down her spine as she read along with the lyrics.

That one was followed by Perfect from November 2019, Made For from January 2020, For You from February 2020, What Am I from Summer 2020, all of which just added another weight to Florence’s heart. The angsty heartbroken songs that she was smart enough to know just who they were about, each lyric speaking right to her soul from a part of Daniel’s she hardly knew existed.

She tried not to feel heartbroken herself over the deep lyrics and soft melodies as a vision into Daniel’s own mind through their friendship. She had hurt him so much and never knew. She now sat on their shared bed in their new apartment and fought back her own tears over these songs that he tried to hide from her.

Daniel had finished making lunch for the girls and set them at their small white wooden table to eat, waiting impatiently for Florence to finish putting away the laundry so they could eat together. The minutes passed as he cleaned up the kitchen but there was no sign of her.

“Stay right here, okay?” Daniel said to his two daughters before heading down the hallway to find his fiancé. Their bedroom door was closed which was strange and he opened it and headed inside, only to find Florence sitting on their bed with her laptop open and her headphones on and tears in her eyes.

Daniel was startled by her seemingly sudden emotion but then his gaze landed on the open CD cover and the booklet in her hands and his heart literally stopped.

“Flora.” he breathed as she looked up at him.

She paused What Am I within the last minute and pulled out her earbuds with a shaky inhale, “Why didn’t you show me this?”

“I…” Daniel walked slowly over to her and glanced at her laptop to see what track she was on. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “I didn’t…I…I didn’t want you to be upset. There’s some…heavy and personal shit in these songs.”

“Yeah.” Florence laughed humourlessly, looking back to the simple black booklet in her hands.

“Are you mad at me?” Daniel asked softly.

“Mad at you? You should be mad at me for listening to something you didn’t want me to listen to.” Florence sighed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before her tears could fall.

“They’re all for you anyway.” Daniel shrugged. “Plus it had your name on the cover.”

“You really meant all of this?” Florence asked, holding up the lyric booklet haphazardly.

“Every single word.” Daniel nodded and shuffled to sit beside her on the bed. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ve been in love with you from the first moment we met.”

“I didn’t know…that I hurt you this bad all the time.”

“Not all the time.” Daniel tisked. “The hard stuff just makes for the best songs.”

Florence chuckled lightly and Daniel smiled softly and pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek before leaning his head against hers.

“I wrote What Am I the week before Penelope was born.” Daniel said quietly, staring at the song paused on the laptop screen. “And you were the only thing on my mind the whole time…you and our baby that I didn’t know was ours yet.”

“I heard you singing it to her once.”

“Yeah.” Daniel cracked a small smile at the memory.

They sat in silence together, in their own minds and memories, staring at the paused CD.

“Are you gonna listen to the last three?” Daniel asked.

“Are they gonna make me cry?” Florence mumbled.

“No. Next one was the first song I wrote after we started dating.” he flipped the booklet to Taking You, “And then one from when I knew I wanted to marry you,” he flipped to Big Plans, “And finally, my thesis project. Spent all this last year working on it from recordings to lyrics to instrumentals to production and everything in between.” he flipped to the last page to Love Song finished just that last April. “Got a shining 100%.”

Florence smiled at him and stuck her earbud back in but Daniel got up from the bed again. “Are you not going to listen with me?” she frowned.

“Gotta watch our babies so they don’t destroy the house. Come find me after, okay?”

“Okay.” Florence smiled lightly and welcomed his lingering kiss to her lips. She watched him leave before turning back to her laptop and pressed ‘play’.

The upbeat guitar of Taking You instantly made her smile and the sweet lyrics had it sticking; thinking back to the first few weeks of their romantic relationship and how fresh and new everything was. And Big Plans definitely made her cry – especially because it was made in April and he said it was when he knew he wanted to marry her, so far in advance to when he actually proposed. And Love Song. Her favourite on the whole track list, an upbeat and catch incredible song that sounded like it could be professionally made by a famous band. But it was just her Daniel and his deepest, sweetest, honest feelings for her and it only made her more excited to spend the rest of their lives together.

When the album concluded, she took it out of her laptop and put the CD safely away in its case and on Daniel’s desk across the room before heading back down the hallway. She lingered in the doorway a moment to watch Daniel set two plastic cups of apple juice down for the girls and they thanked him sweetly. He stood back up and caught glimpse of Florence in the hallway and they shared small smiles. She headed over to him and he swallowed her up into a warm embrace and peppered a few kisses to her cheek and down her neck.

“I love you so much.” Florence whispered.

“I love you more.” Daniel smiled against her neck.

“Our whole love story on one CD, huh?” she said.

Daniel pulled back from her to look at her face and their noses brushed lightly. He kissed hers before resting their foreheads together, “It is.”

“I’m proud of you. It was all truly beautiful. Can’t believe you didn’t share all that with me before.”

“I’ve shown you bits and pieces.” Daniel shrugged, his eyes falling closed as they stood together in their kitchen, arms wrapped around each other and just breathing together. “But I was too shy.”

“I know.” Florence giggled, giving his hips a small squeeze. She pulled back to look him in the eye. “But now I expect to hear all your beautiful art.”

“Okay.” Daniel leaned in to kiss her lips and they smiled into it before he pulled back just long enough to whisper, “I’ll put it in my vows.”

#anything but mine

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queenlists · 5 years ago

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A Year of Tate

A/N: We’re at 92! Thank you to everyone for the support, I really appreciate it! Almost to 100, I love it! I love you all. I can’t thank you enough.WARNING: abuse, character deaths, suicide, and murder. The normal AHS warnings. Also, this is a long fic! The masterlist will be located at the bottom in case you would like to check out more of my work! I hope you all enjoy this fic ✌

Post Date: 1/24/2020

JANUARY

He was different. Not in the quirky teenage boy kind of different, but he was a real ticking time bomb. He said things that I should have taken much more seriously, but I didn't. I never did. I always thought Tate Langdon wouldn't do that. He could never. He means well! I defended Tate with every bone in my body. I even defended him when my parents tried having me steer clear of him. He said he wanted to do two things: teach the school a lesson they'd remember and make a statement that'd shake the town or maybe even the country. I rooted for him, thinking it'd be something crazy. Something wild, but I never thought it would be this. My Tate? The boy I stole many kisses from. The boy who surprised me with my favorite snacks. The boy who told me he loved me every second of the day. I couldn't believe it. I still can't. Helping Constance move out of that evil house after Tate's funeral while Addie ran around the house was the least I could do for the Langdons. She allowed me to keep one thing of his, so I kept his sweater. I put it on as soon as I grabbed it. It still smelled just like him. I knew she was having a hard time living without him as well as she knew I was dying without him. Putting down a box, I sighed and looked at Constance. Even in grief, she held her head high and walked in strides. Constance turned to me with a small smile spread across her face, wrapping me up into a tight hug before putting her warm hands on my face, staring into my eyes with a smile "You're a good girl, (Y/n). You always have been!" This was one of the only times I could say I saw the mother in Constance.

We were ready to leave the house when all of a sudden Addie came running to me with the biggest smile on her face "Tate's here!" Sighing, I let her take my hand and lead me to wherever. Figuring that Addie was coping by playing pretend because there was no chance that Tate would be here, I willingly followed. However, much to my surprise, he was here. He was actually here! He stood there with that same goofy smile plastered on his face. His eyes lit up as they got familiar with me once again. My heart sank to my feet as I began to back away from the man I once loved. Holding onto Addie's hand tightly, telling myself that I'm crazy and that I am so sad that I must be making up images of Tate. His smile faded as his eyes began to water and redden before squeaking out "(Y/n)?"

I was gasping for air at this point. There was no way he could be here right now! I can still hear those heavy boots padding the floor. I can still see those heavy guns rushing to Tate's room. I can still feel them rip me away from Tate and take me out of his room. I can still hear those deafening gunshots. I can still taste my salty tears. I can still see the blood splatter that remained in his room before the cleaners made it. I remembered his death so well. Constance was moving houses. We were just at his funeral days prior. So, how is he was here perfectly the way he was before?

FEBRUARY

"Never leave me," He whispered in my ear. His grip on me was tighter than it had ever been. "You can never leave me. You will never escape me," he muttered with a wicked grin before giving me a quick kiss on the nose. He's always had a weird way with words, but something told me he meant exactly what he said and meant it exactly how it was said. It's been a month since we reunited and he was different. His possessive words used to send butterflies to flutter around in my stomach, but now all they do is send chills up my spine. "Promise me right now that you're mine forever," he gripped my face in his hands as his eyes burned into mine. He began to uncomfortably squish my face in his hands as he shook my head "Promise me!" The tone in his voice startled me as I quickly nodded "I-I promise. I promise that I'll never leave you. I'm yours!" I gasped out, cocking an eyebrow at my dead boyfriend who laid down on his back pleased with my answer. I bit my lip as he stared up at the ceiling. He came back different. Very different.

MARCH

I drummed my fingers against the cardboard box as I tried to breathe. Sniffling as tears ran down my face, I've been pacing in this gas station bathroom for thirty minutes now. "Just use it, (Y/n)! There are only two possibilities: you're either pregnant or you're not," I muttered to myself in hopes of gaining some courage to take this test.

Finally, I was able to. I set the test down, refusing to look at it. I didn't want to know yet. I wasn't ready. I examined myself in the mirror. Who am I anymore? My face was blotchy and my eyes were reddened from the constant tears. My lip was busted along with bruises peppered up and down my arms. I pulled down my sleeves as I ripped my eyes away from the harsh reality. Tate Langdon has always been the same kind of person. Unstable and unpredictable. This time, he had nothing to lose. The nothing to lose part only made him even more dangerous and wicked. I was scared to leave him in fear of what he might do, but also I just couldn't bring myself to leave him as I loved him too much. Even if he hurt me.

Constance knew just what her son was capable of. She warned me to leave Tate. Hell, she warned me to leave Tate before his death! She knew who her son was. She tried. She tried and I thought she was the most cold-hearted person there was, but she was right. I should have left, but she knew just as well as I did that I couldn't bring myself to leave Tate. Addie never bothered to come over anymore once she saw what her big brother had done. "He hurt you! I'll never forgive him!" I remember her yelling as she ran home. I watched her leave, wishing I could do the same. Toss Tate to the side and move on, but I couldn't. I glanced at the test: positive. I slid to the floor, sobbing. He was always right there. Right here. Inside of my heart and now a part of him lived inside of me.

Coming home, I saw Tate waiting for me. Glaring at me from the window. Hatred and disgust burned in his eyes as he watched me stop walking and stand there on the sidewalk, looking at him. That look used to be foreign to me. Before his death, I only got smiles from Tate. His eyes used to light up at the very sight of me, but now..now that was history. That look of disgust and hate was the new norm. I remember when he first looked at me that way.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I sniffled, wiping away the tears that fell during our fourth huge argument of the week. "You make me sick. I should've shot you when I had the chance!" Tate spat at me, shoving me away from him before storming out of the room.

Oh, how I wish he would have. We locked eyes for a few moments before he turned around, vanishing from the window. He didn't deserve to be a father. He didn't deserve anything good in life. I had to do right by my baby. I had to leave for good.

APRIL

I ran.

I ran as fast as I could.

I ran as I heard his voice rattle that old house to its core.

"Come back, you're all I have!"

Even after I turned the corner, I still ran.

I knew I was well out of his reach, but I kept running until I felt that I was safe.

I loved him.

I loved him so much that it hurt.

I loved him with every fiber of my body.

With every inch of my soul.

But, Tate Langdon was, is, and always will be bad news.

I should've known it sooner.

Why'd I ignore the signs?

No one comes back from the dead the same!

I should've left.

I should've left when Constance first told me to.

I should've left with Addie.

I should've left when he first hit me.

But, I didn't.

Now, I have to.

For you.

"Bus 6290 arrived! If you are on bus 6290, please head towards the terminal with your ticket ready!"

I smiled at the sound of the staticky voice blaring through the speakers as I tried to catch my breath. Running a hand down to my stomach, I nodded "We made it!"

MAY

Settling into a new house can be rough alone especially when it's a new house in a new city in a new state!

The murder house was loud. Laying in bed, I could hear everything minus Tate screaming at me. I could hear everyone. It was so crowded and so loud day in and day out, but here it was quiet. It was just my baby and I. It was a relief. For once in months, I've had some relief.

I found a doctor here. Apparently, I've been pregnant since February! This baby is going to be born sometime in October. October was the month Tate and I made our relationship official. I remember telling Constance and Addie like it was yesterday:

"I knew it! I knew it! I knew it! I told you mom, Tate and (Y/n) are in love!" Addie exclaimed, looking at Constance with a smug smile on her face. "Yes, I know. You were right. I just didn't think Tate would stoop so low," Constance rolled her eyes and took a long drag of her cigarette. "Why are you such a bitch, Constance?" Tate spat, shaking his head. "Oh please!" Constance scoffed. "You're so unbearable! Let's get out of here, (Y/n)" Tate grabbed my arm, leading me out of the house as Addie followed us. As Tate practically dragged me out of the house, Constance locked eyes with me as her eyes began to redden before she looked away with her head low.

I always took Constance's expression as she felt bad for ruining the announcement, but now I knew better. She was upset that I got wrapped up in the grasp of her beloved son.

JUNE, JULY, AUGUST, SEPTEMBER

Not much has happened these past few months. I got a job, fixed up a nursery, got the hang of keeping up with a house and bills. I made myself and my son a home here. Now all there was left to do was wait until his arrival.

As I relaxed on the couch, my phone began to buzz beside me. Picking it up, I instantly began to smile "Hey Addie! How are you?" "Oh, I'm great. How about you? How's my nephew in there?" Addie and I talk every single day. We have for the past few months now. She cheered when I told her I left the state, telling me it was about time. She kept me up to date on everything including the family that moved into the murder house. The Harmons. Apparently, the daughter of the Harmons, Violet, is heavily involved with Tate. Addie told me that she went over there to warn Violet, but it was too late. She was wrapped up in Tate just like I was.

"Would it be awful of me to admit that I'm jealous and that I miss Tate?" I muted the phone, facepalming hard as I realized I said my thoughts out loud. "You don't miss Tate. Not this Tate. You miss the old Tate," Addie explained, sighing at the end. She was right. I missed our memories. The laughter, jokes, music, dancing, and extreme puppy love. I don't miss the yelling, the dirty looks, the hitting, and the arguments. She gets to have those now. She can have them forever.

OCTOBER

I've had pains for a while now, but I've been pushing through. The pains aren't enough to set off any alarms in my doctor's head. They're normal at this point. Braxton Hicks are what they're called. Since everything checked out, I was given the go-ahead! This pregnancy had been easy so far. He is a quiet boy and I love that.

"Now, you should not be traveling at this point!" Constance declared through the phone. "We can come to you instead!" I smiled as I rolled my suitcase towards her house, unknowingly. "Too bad because I'm already here!" I laughed as I heard shuffling before the door swung open.

Constance didn't hesitate to hug onto me tightly with Addie joining in seconds later. I decided I've gone through this alone long enough and I was ready to have a family nearby when he decided to make his arrival.

-------

"I want to be a pretty girl, mom!" "No!" They were at it for so long now. I tried to intervene, but I thought it wasn't worth it. I've witnessed them go at it many times before. I didn't think this fight meant any real significance. I thought this would be forgotten in a day's time, but I was wrong.

I was so wrong.

Screaming, I watched as Constance began to drag Addie's lifeless body to that wicked house. "Constance, no! You know she would hate you for this. You know she would hate it there!" I knelt down beside Constance and pulled her hands away from Addie "She would be so unhappy, Constance. Let her go!" I sobbed before holding onto Constance. I should've done more. My vision blurred with tears as I looked over at Addie. My best friend was gone. I held onto my stomach as the Braxton Hicks began to intensify. Before I knew it, I was hunched over gasping for air as sweat dripped down my face. A paramedic grabbed me before I could hit the ground. I could hear Constance crying out, but my vision began to double as everything spun.

The world began to turn black as I frantically looked around. Through the swirls and distortion, I saw him. Tate. Just standing there, looking at me. He wasn't looking at me from inside of the house nor was he on the lawn. He was across the street, perfectly blending in with the rest of the gasping bystanders. He watched me with intensity. What the hell is going on?

---------

There was so much going on. I knew I was screaming, but I couldn't hear it. There was blood everywhere. I wanted to faint. I felt like fainting. Sweat dripped down my face as the nurse held my hand tightly. "What's happening" I manage to scream loud enough that I could hear myself. "You're having your son!" The nurse exclaimed, gently dragging her gloved thumb against my knuckles. Constance had her hands over her cheeks as she watched in amazement. My eyes wandered around the room until they found him. Tate was standing there in the corner of the room. I knit my eyebrows together and squinted at him. His eyes were watery and red-rimmed. His lips were red and swollen. His face was blotchy. Tears slid down his face like a constant running waterfall. He stood behind everyone else and watched the birth of his son. As I laid there, watching the birth of a new Tate Langdon.

NOVEMBER

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as Constance flipped pancakes "He's a growing boy! He needs his food," Looking at (B/N), I knew he wasn't a normal baby. I'm no expert, but something just isn't right. "He's a month old. I don't think he should be this big," I knit my eyebrows together as I watched my one-month-old son walk towards me. "He's a Langdon! Tate was the same way. They move fast. When is that girl coming over to take my grandson from me?" Constance handed (B/N) a player with pieces of pancake on it which he happily took. "You mean Violet?" I giggled, packing the last of (B/N)'s clothes "She should be over soon. Don't worry, he'll be back in a week. The Harmons are great with him," Constance rolled her eyes as she assisted (B/N) with his feeding.

--------

"It's past dinner time! (B/N) is asleep. That girl is no good! Tell her she can't take my grandson anymore. On Halloween, Tate can come over instead or you two can just communicate on that laptop screen. He is too fragile to be stood up at such an age! I would never trust-" Constance rambled on about how Violet lied and how she deserves another cupcake. Though, I'm not sure what kind of significance a cupcake is to their relationship. I never got cupcakes from Constance. Maybe Violet hates them? I don't know. All I know is that Violet never came and that just was not like her.

------

I refused to go back to that house and I refused to be alone with Tate. Violet knew this, so she agreed to bring (B/N) to Tate and back again. Every other weekend without fail, Violet would be there at the front door with a big smile on her face.

I grabbed my laptop and requested a video call from Violet, but it failed. Something was wrong.

DECEMBER

It's December. I don't ever hear from Violet anymore. The visitations stopped. I see Mr. and Mrs. Harmon in town and they always tell me she's acting weird at home as well. Every bone in my body told me to not do it, but I had to. I had to know what was up.

I stared at that wicked house, sighing before walking up to the door. Before I could open the door, I heard the infinite chatter. It was louder than I remembered. "It's fine. They're just restless right now. I sense more than before," Billie Dean sighed, looking at me. Constance recommended that I go to the house with Billie Dean as she is seen as a friend there. Steadying my breathing and regaining composure, I opened the door slowly. Stepping in, my body froze in place. I couldn't move. I couldn't take a step forward nor could I take a step back. "It's the trauma. You don't have to move any further," Billie rubbed my shoulder gently before proceeding to walk further into the house. "Violet!" Billie called out. Nothing. "Violet?" Billie called out again, this time a wave of concern washed across her face. As if she was hearing something or someone, something or someone that I could not hear. Billie looked at me defeated, whispering "Will you please show yourself?"

Show yourself?

Soon, Violet appeared with tears streaming down her face. Billie wrapped Violet into a hug as Violet began to sob loudly. "How did you pass?" My heart shattered as Violet pulled out her phone, waving me to come closer. There was no way that Violet was dead. No way! I carefully moved closer as we all watched the video.

The Harmons put surveillance cameras in every room including bathrooms after the house was broken into. Just so they could check footage from anywhere whether they were home or not. I watched as Violet took a lethal amount of pills. I watched as she laid down in the bathtub to die. I watched as Tate ran in, screaming and crying. I watched Tate try to make her puke it up. I watched Tate succeed, but it wasn't enough. I watched as Violet went limp in his arms. I watched Tate accept her death and drag her body out of the bathroom. Violet quickly ended the video afterward "I didn't really want to die. I couldn't accept it. My parents don't even know. Don't tell them, please!" Violet begged as she looked back and forth from Billie and I. Agreeing, we wrapped Violet in a big hug.

Losing Violet made me gain trust in Tate. He tried to save her. He tried his hardest. He did everything he could until the very end. Tate hid it from her in fear of what that news could do to her. He only ever blamed himself. Tate really was a new person. Where did all that evil disappear to?

JANUARY

"Constance!" I screamed as I ran, following the blood smears "(B/N)!" My heart sank as I followed the endless trail of blood. My throat ached as I screamed their names, hoping for someone to say something. Hoping for a sound. Hoping for a cry. Hoping for something! I pushed the door open that the blood seemed to lead to, bracing myself for the worst. Constance stood there in her silk robe as (B/N) sat on the floor in a pool of blood, giggling. A pool of blood that belonged to the babysitter I had hired for the night.

"I told you. Langdons don't play well with babysitters."

masterlist

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cogneartive · 5 years ago

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The Great Peter Infodump of March 2020

yo @brackets-and-woolly-hats @mijaco-geo and @mike-nesmith-for-mayor I have recently been informed that yall would really like me to infodump about Peter and I want to thank yall because I think if I held it in any longer I would explode

Also thanks to the coolcherrycream articles and various interviews that I learnt all these from in the 5-ish months I’ve been thinking about the monkees for

But before I start going hnngggg Peter I would like to warn you that despite my tone this is going to contain some heavy stuff. We’re talking brief mentions of blood, and suicide and death so be careful about that

This is gonna get hella long so *cracks knuckles* let’s begin

Childhood

let’s start from the very beginning: a very good place to start

Friday, 13th February one bb was born and he would always say that Friday the 13th was a lucky day for years onwards

He was born with a lot of diversity in his parentage

He’s Irish and German-Jewish on his mother’s side and Norwegian on his dad’s side

Speaking of Jewishness (is that a word???) I rememeber an article saying that he used to randomly say Hebrew words in interviews and I think he taught Mike how to say something too?? I dont know

Peter was a very friendly boy even when he was just a toddler cus he would drag any new friend he had home

Anyway, he was born in Washington DC

Once on Christmas he went missing and his mum and grams panicked and looked all over the house for him

Turns out he was just waiting at lampost in the snow because he wanted to make sure that Santa would bring him a present

Speaking of Grams, when he was 3 (i think im doing this from memory) he was at a post office with his mother when she came in.

He got uber excited and shouted “THAT’S MY GRAMS. HER NAME IS CAIT!”

And so everyone turned to look at her and he squealed

He would also often ride on the top part double deck buses and whenever the bus slowed down, he would wave to nearby people and say “HI MY NAME’S PETER WHAT’S YOUR?” to which those people who wave back and sometimes answer him. I mean, wouldn’t you?

Also he started to play with pianos when he was 3 and also he liked dancing so that’s cute

One of his first memories was of being at the hospital where his brother Nick (who they called Nicky and that’s what I’m going to call him) was born

Soon after Nicky was born they moved to Germany Yeet. He was 4 and the time and Nicky was like 18 months or smth

Germany

Right so I dont know why people dont talk about this part of his childhood because like,,,it’s interesting??

In Germany they had two maids

They had to put sugar in every food so that Peter and Nicky would actually eat the strange German food

He became very fluent in German and would help his mother with translations

He was also fluent in French for some reason

Someone made a statue of his 4 year old head and it became a famous minor art piece that featured in calendars

It probably now sits in his house because I saw in in the background of the short documentary that his son, Ivan Ivanoli made about him which you sould check btw

Anyway, when Peter was 5 he made his first official best friend Ule who was two years older than him

Once when he was playing hide and seek with Nicky he ran at full force at a closed glass door that he thought was open, shattering it, and getting a shard into his arm. Reasonably he screamed

Apparently, he was hurt a major artery and would have bled to death if not for someone being in the house to call a doctor

Once he was out and about wandering around, as you would do if you were Peter when he was stopped by some official looking guy from going back into his own house.

It’s important to note that Peter looked very much like a German boy and would ONLY talk in German outside. God knows why he did this. Reasonably, the dude thought he was lying and he had to call for his mum

Anyway, in Germany school starts when you’re five but his birthday was in the middle of the school year so his parents sent him in early which set him up for some outcasted child syndrome later

And then the moved back to America yeet

AMERICA (LAND OF CAPITALISM)

So he moved back into America but it didn’t stop there. No. They had to move around like a 100 different times and as someone who went to a total of 4 different schools (so far oh no) that sets you up with outcasted child syndrome. What also sets you up with outcasted child syndrome is if you’re an undiagnosed neurodivergent which Peter seemed to think he was when he was in his 50s (either ADHD or autism) so uhh keep that in mind

So he was in school and as mentioned earlier he was a year younger than his peers so that’s fun

He was very very clever. Often he would finish his work first and his (4th grade) teacher would make do some reading or creative writing. She encouraged him to do creative writing because she saw some talent in there

Not only was he acadmically gifted, but he was also musically gifted. Playing not only the piano (which he got lessons for) but also the guitar, the banjo, the bass, and the french horn which he got an award for when he was in highschool playing in a band made out of college students for some reason

Speaking of awards, he was once given an award for maths

This giftedness would later set him up for Gifted Child Burnout he had in college

Also he changed schools like a total of 13 times so that’s fun

He went to a private school but apparentl, according to his parents, he hated it (but he remembered liking it???)

Also, he made a lot of jokes in class

Remember Nicky? Yeah, Nicky would often write songs for him to sing and stuff (Nicky would later write songs for Peter’s solo album and a bunch of other stuff what a great brother we stan)

The family had some kind of barn once where he would do puppet shows his siblings

Anyway, school life was all fine and dandy until 5th grade hit and he changed schools and everyone lost interest in him because he was one year younger

Also his dad was apparently very disconnected with him. Needless to say, Peter felt like his father didn’t like him

Once when he was 9, he told his father that he noticed that when the clouds were around at night, it would be warmer during the day to which his father shouted at him saying that “he has no proof of that” and that he shouldn’t say anything without proof

This of course led him to feel like no one wanted to listen to what he wanted to say

poor baby

I think his father would have been the reason why Peter would later say in an interview that he hated “loud abusiveness” the most

He would also later say that a combination of his dad and feeling like he was weird and different would lead him to his drinking problem

So umm we dont stan his dad ok

Once when he was 13 he picked up a loaded shotgun and put it against his head. But he decided that he didn’t want to do it at the last second.

Overall, life from 5th grade till highschool was terrible for him

He didn’t have any friends in his school

So when he moved to a new school in Conneticut where he was surrounded with people of the same age, he was really happy all the way until college where he flunked out twice

Hippie Time (Honestly this part is just me talking about him and Stephen Stills because Steter Stirk changed me)

And so Peter became a hippie in Greenwich Village

In the Village, he became a sort of entertainer. Not just singing and playing, he was also a comedian.

And then he kept hearing about this dude who looked like him from other people.

This dude turned out to be Stephen who was also hearing the same kind of talk for about the same amount of time

Pete and Stephen VIBED im not kidding they started to play with each other and also Stephen’s room mate who was also there

Also it turns out that they liked to talk about the same things so that’s neat

Peter went to Venuzuela apparently and when he came back the Monkee thing happened yeet

Once when Stephen was waiting to move into his new house Peter was all like “hey dude live with me”

For a while they also lived in the same house when he was Monkee and if that doesn’t fuel any ship fics I dont know what will

Im serious the ship is here and its real I saw fics and fanart

Dont ask about Stirk

They played with the colour tv and would “pick apart each other’s brains” umm

Also Peter’s favourite band was buffalo springfield and we stan a friend who would say your band was their favourite band

And I think this is where my knowledge starts to fade because I haven’t really heard any cool facts from here on afterwards

Last Final Cool Facts

He was a teacher for quite a while and taught about Maths, basketball (despite not liking any sport except swimming) and Easter Philosophy,,,yes easter philosphy the man was into that kinda stuff

Also he was a big reader. Always having a smoll book in his pocket that he would read while on set with the Monkees. But he was particularly a non fic kinda guy

He would write poetry on the back of scripts

In the 2000s he said that his sister thought he might have ADD

Also autism but when asked about it he’d be all P E R H A P S

which is very unhelpful Peter pls give us a straight answer

I mean he cant give us straight answers because he was the gayest monkee (he fricked a dude once but he didn’t like it)

Hey look I ended on a gay note yeet. Thanks for reading this mess

#the monkees #peter tork #blood tw #death ment tw #suicide tw #i think that's all the tws #im finally free of this knowlege #i feel so good #just wait till i come back with a truck of knowledge in 5 months

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silent-era-of-cinema · 4 years ago

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Clara Gordon Bow (July 29, 1905 – September 27, 1965) was an American actress who rose to stardom in silent film during the 1920s and successfully made the transition to "talkies" in 1929. Her appearance as a plucky shopgirl in the film It brought her global fame and the nickname "The It Girl". Bow came to personify the Roaring Twenties and is described as its leading sex symbol.

Bow appeared in 46 silent films and 11 talkies, including hits such as Mantrap (1926), It (1927), and Wings (1927). She was named first box-office draw in 1928 and 1929 and second box-office draw in 1927 and 1930. Her presence in a motion picture was said to have ensured investors, by odds of almost two-to-one, a "safe return". At the apex of her stardom, she received more than 45,000 fan letters in a single month (January 1929).

Two years after marrying actor Rex Bell in 1931, Bow retired from acting and became a rancher in Nevada. Her final film, Hoop-La, was released in 1933. In September 1965, Bow died of a heart attack at the age of 60.

Bow was born in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn at 697 Bergen Street,[9] in a "bleak, sparsely furnished room above [a] dilapidated Baptist Church". Her birth year, according to the US Censuses of 1910 and 1920, was 1905. The 1930 census indicates 1906 and on her gravestone of 1965, the inscription says 1907, but 1905 is the accepted year by a majority of sources.

Bow was her parents' third child, but her two older sisters, born in 1903 and 1904, had died in infancy. Her mother, Sarah Frances Bow (née Gordon, 1880–1923), was told by a doctor not to become pregnant again, for fear the next baby might die as well. Despite the warning, Sarah became pregnant with Clara in late 1904. In addition to the risky pregnancy, a heat wave besieged New York in July 1905, and temperatures peaked around 100 °F (38 °C). Years later, Clara said: "I don't suppose two people ever looked death in the face more clearly than my mother and I the morning I was born. We were both given up, but somehow we struggled back to life."

Bow's parents were descended from English, Irish and Scottish immigrants who had come to America the generation before. Bow said that her father, Robert Walter Bow (1874–1959), "had a quick, keen mind ... all the natural qualifications to make something of himself, but didn't...everything seemed to go wrong for him, poor darling". By the time Clara was four and a half, her father was out of work, and between 1905 and 1923, the family lived at 14 different addresses, but seldom outside Prospect Heights, with Clara's father often absent. "I do not think my mother ever loved my father", she said. "He knew it. And it made him very unhappy, for he worshiped her, always."

When Bow's mother, Sarah, was 16, she fell from a second-story window and suffered a severe head injury. She was later diagnosed with "psychosis due to epilepsy". From her earliest years, Bow had learned how to care for her mother during the seizures, as well as how to deal with her psychotic and hostile episodes. She said her mother could be "mean" to her, but "didn't mean to ... she couldn't help it". Still, Bow felt deprived of her childhood; "As a kid I took care of my mother, she didn't take care of me". Sarah worsened gradually, and when she realized her daughter was set for a movie career, Bow's mother told her she "would be much better off dead". One night in February 1922, Bow awoke to a butcher knife held against her throat by her mother. Clara was able to fend off the attack, and locked her mother up. In the morning, Bow's mother had no recollection of the episode, and later she was committed to a sanatorium by Robert Bow.

Clara spoke about the incident later:

It was snowing. My mother and I were cold and hungry. We had been cold and hungry for days. We lay in each other's arms and cried and tried to keep warm. It grew worse and worse. So that night my mother—but I can't tell you about it. Only when I remember it, it seems to me I can't live.

According to Bow's biographer, David Stenn, Bow was raped by her father at age sixteen while her mother was institutionalized. On January 5, 1923, Sarah died at the age of 43 from her epilepsy. When relatives gathered for the funeral, Bow accused them of being "hypocrites", and became so angry that she even tried to jump into the grave.

Bow attended P.S. 111, P.S. 9, and P.S. 98.[13] As she grew up, she felt shy among other girls, who teased her for her worn-out clothes and "carrot-top" hair. She said about her childhood, "I never had any clothes. ... And lots of time didn't have anything to eat. We just lived, that's about all. Girls shunned me because I was so poorly dressed."

From first grade, Bow preferred the company of boys, stating, "I could lick any boy my size. My right arm was quite famous. My right arm was developed from pitching so much ... Once I hopped a ride on behind a big fire engine. I got a lot of credit from the gang for that."[15] A close friend, a younger boy who lived in her building, burned to death in her presence after an accident. In 1919, Bow enrolled in Bay Ridge High School for Girls. "I wore sweaters and old skirts...didn't want to be treated like a girl...there was one boy who had always been my pal... he kissed me... I wasn't sore. I didn't get indignant. I was horrified and hurt."

Bow's interest in sports and her physical abilities led her to plan for a career as an athletics instructor. She won five medals "at the cinder tracks" and credited her cousin Homer Baker – the national half-mile (c.800 m) champion (1913 and 1914) and 660-yard (c. 600 m) world-record holder – for being her trainer. The Bows and Bakers shared a house – still standing – at 33 Prospect Place in 1920.

In the early 1920s, roughly 50 million Americans—half the population at that time—attended the movies every week. As Bow grew into womanhood, her stature as a "boy" in her old gang became "impossible". She did not have any girlfriends, and school was a "heartache" and her home was "miserable." On the silver screen, however, she found consolation; "For the first time in my life I knew there was beauty in the world. For the first time I saw distant lands, serene, lovely homes, romance, nobility, glamor". And further; "I always had a queer feeling about actors and actresses on the screen ... I knew I would have done it differently. I couldn't analyze it, but I could always feel it.". "I'd go home and be a one girl circus, taking the parts of everyone I'd seen, living them before the glass." At 16, Bow says she "knew" she wanted to be a motion pictures actress, even if she was a "square, awkward, funny-faced kid."

Against her mother's wishes but with her father's support, Bow competed in Brewster publications' magazine's annual nationwide acting contest, "Fame and Fortune", in fall 1921. In previous years, other contest winners had found work in the movies. In the contest's final screen test, Bow was up against an already scene-experienced woman who did "a beautiful piece of acting". A set member later stated that when Bow did the scene, she actually became her character and "lived it". In the January issues 1922 of Motion Picture Classics, the contest jury, Howard Chandler Christy, Neysa McMein, and Harrison Fisher, concluded:

She is very young, only 16. But she is full of confidence, determination and ambition. She is endowed with a mentality far beyond her years. She has a genuine spark of divine fire. The five different screen tests she had, showed this very plainly, her emotional range of expression provoking a fine enthusiasm from every contest judge who saw the tests. She screens perfectly. Her personal appearance is almost enough to carry her to success without the aid of the brains she indubitably possesses.

Bow won an evening gown and a silver trophy, and the publisher committed to help her "gain a role in films", but nothing happened. Bow's father told her to "haunt" Brewster's office (located in Brooklyn) until they came up with something. "To get rid of me, or maybe they really meant to (give me) all the time and were just busy", Bow was introduced to director Christy Cabanne, who cast her in Beyond the Rainbow, produced late 1921 in New York City and released February 19, 1922. Bow did five scenes and impressed Cabanne with true theatrical tears, but was cut from the final print. "I was sick to my stomach," she recalled and thought her mother was right about the movie business.

Bow, who dropped out of school (senior year) after she was notified about winning the contest, possibly in October 1921, got an ordinary office job. However, movie ads and newspaper editorial comments from 1922 to 1923 suggest that Bow was not cut from Beyond the Rainbow. Her name is on the cast list among the other stars, usually tagged "Brewster magazine beauty contest winner" and sometimes even with a picture.

Encouraged by her father, Bow continued to visit studio agencies asking for parts. "But there was always something. I was too young, or too little, or too fat. Usually I was too fat." Eventually, director Elmer Clifton needed a tomboy for his movie Down to the Sea in Ships, saw Bow in Motion Picture Classic magazine, and sent for her. In an attempt to overcome her youthful looks, Bow put her hair up and arrived in a dress she "sneaked" from her mother. Clifton said she was too old, but broke into laughter as the stammering Bow made him believe she was the girl in the magazine. Clifton decided to bring Bow with him and offered her $35 a week. Bow held out for $50 and Clifton agreed, but he could not say whether she would "fit the part". Bow later learned that one of Brewsters' subeditors had urged Clifton to give her a chance.

Down to the Sea in Ships, shot on location in New Bedford, Massachusetts and produced by independent "The Whaling Film Corporation", documented life, love, and work in the whale-hunter community. The production relied on a few less-known actors and local talents. It premiered at the Olympia Theater in New Bedford, on September 25, and went on general distribution on March 4, 1923. Bow was billed 10th in the film, but shone through:

"Miss Bow will undoubtedly gain fame as a screen comedienne".

"She scored a tremendous hit in Down to the Sea in Ships..(and).. has reached the front rank of motion picture principal players".

"With her beauty, her brains, her personality and her genuine acting ability it should not be many moons before she enjoys stardom in the fullest sense of the word. You must see 'Down to the Sea in Ships'".

"In movie parlance, she 'stole' the picture ... ".

By mid-December 1923, primarily due to her merits in Down to the Sea in Ships, Bow was chosen the most successful of the 1924 WAMPAS Baby Stars. Three months before Down to the Sea in Ships was released, Bow danced half nude, on a table, uncredited in Enemies of Women (1923). In spring she got a part in The Daring Years (1923), where she befriended actress Mary Carr, who taught her how to use make-up.

In the summer, she got a "tomboy" part in Grit, a story that dealt with juvenile crime and was written by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Bow met her first boyfriend, cameraman Arthur Jacobson, and she got to know director Frank Tuttle, with whom she worked in five later productions. Tuttle remembered:

Her emotions were close to the surface. She could cry on demand, opening the floodgate of tears almost as soon as I asked her to weep. She was dynamite, full of nervous energy and vitality and pitifully eager to please everyone.

Grit was released on January 7, 1924. The Variety review said "... Clara Bow lingers in the eye, long after the picture has gone."

While shooting Grit at Pyramid Studios, in Astoria, New York, Bow was approached by Jack Bachman of independent Hollywood studio Preferred Pictures. He wanted to contract her for a three-month trial, fare paid, and $50 a week. "It can't do any harm,"[15] he tried. "Why can't I stay in New York and make movies?" Bow asked her father, but he told her not to worry.

On July 21, 1923, she befriended Louella Parsons, who interviewed her for The New York Morning Telegraph. In 1931, when Bow came under tabloid scrutiny, Parsons defended her and stuck to her first opinion on Bow:

She is as refreshingly unaffected as if she had never faced a means to pretend. She hasn't any secrets from the world, she trusts everyone ... she is almost too good to be true ... (I) only wish some reformer who believes the screen contaminates all who associate with it could meet this child. Still, on second thought it might not be safe: Clara uses a dangerous pair of eyes.

The interview also revealed that Bow already was cast in Maytime and in great favor of Chinese cuisine.

On July 22, 1923, Bow left New York, her father, and her boyfriend behind for Hollywood. As chaperone for the journey and her subsequent southern California stay, the studio appointed writer/agent Maxine Alton, whom Bow later branded a liar. In late July, Bow entered studio chief B. P. Schulberg's office wearing a simple high-school uniform in which she "had won several gold medals on the cinder track". She was tested and a press release from early August says Bow had become a member of Preferred Picture's "permanent stock". Alton and she rented an apartment at The Hillview near Hollywood Boulevard. Preferred Pictures was run by Schulberg, who had started as a publicity manager at Famous Players-Lasky, but in the aftermath of the power struggle around the formation of United Artists, ended up on the losing side and lost his job. As a result, he founded Preferred in 1919, at the age of 27.

Maytime was Bow's first Hollywood picture, an adaptation of the popular operetta Maytime in which she essayed "Alice Tremaine". Before Maytime was finished, Schulberg announced that Bow was given the lead in the studio's biggest seasonal assessment, Poisoned Paradise,[51] but first she was lent to First National Pictures to co-star in the adaptation of Gertrude Atherton's 1923 best seller Black Oxen, shot in October, and to co-star with Colleen Moore in Painted People, shot in November.

Director Frank Lloyd was casting for the part of high-society flapper Janet Oglethorpe, and more than 50 women, most with previous screen experience, auditioned. Bow reminisced: "He had not found exactly what he wanted and finally somebody suggested me to him. When I came into his office a big smile came over his face and he looked just tickled to death." Lloyd told the press, "Bow is the personification of the ideal aristocratic flapper, mischievous, pretty, aggressive, quick-tempered and deeply sentimental." It was released on January 4, 1924.

The New York Times said, "The flapper, impersonated by a young actress, Clara Bow, had five speaking titles, and every one of them was so entirely in accord with the character and the mood of the scene that it drew a laugh from what, in film circles, is termed a "hard-boiled" audience", while the Los Angeles Times commented that "Clara Bow, the prize vulgarian of the lot ... was amusing and spirited ... but didn't belong in the picture", and Variety said that "... the horrid little flapper is adorably played ..."

Colleen Moore made her flapper debut in a successful adaptation of the daring novel Flaming Youth, released November 12, 1923, six weeks before Black Oxen. Both films were produced by First National Pictures, and while Black Oxen was still being edited and Flaming Youth not yet released, Bow was requested to co-star with Moore as her kid sister in Painted People (The Swamp Angel). Moore essayed the baseball-playing tomboy and Bow, according to Moore, said "I don't like my part, I wanna play yours." Moore, a well-established star earning $1200 a week—Bow got $200—took offense and blocked the director from shooting close-ups of Bow. Moore was married to the film's producer and Bow's protests were futile. "I'll get that bitch", she told her boyfriend Jacobson, who had arrived from New York. Bow had sinus problems and decided to have them attended to that very evening. With Bow's face now in bandages, the studio had no choice but to recast her part.

During 1924, Bow's "horrid" flapper raced against Moore's "whimsical". In May, Moore renewed her efforts in The Perfect Flapper, produced by her husband. However, despite good reviews, she suddenly withdrew. "No more flappers ... they have served their purpose ... people are tired of soda-pop love affairs", she told the Los Angeles Times, which had commented a month earlier, "Clara Bow is the one outstanding type. She has almost immediately been elected for all the recent flapper parts". In November 1933, looking back to this period of her career, Bow described the atmosphere in Hollywood as like a scene from a movie about the French Revolution, where "women are hollering and waving pitchforks twice as violently as any of the guys ... the only ladies in sight are the ones getting their heads cut off."

By New Year 1924, Bow defied the possessive Maxine Alton and brought her father to Hollywood. Bow remembered their reunion: "I didn't care a rap, for (Maxine Alton), or B. P. Schulberg, or my motion picture career, or Clara Bow, I just threw myself into his arms and kissed and kissed him, and we both cried like a couple of fool kids. Oh, it was wonderful." Bow felt Alton had misused her trust: "She wanted to keep a hold on me so she made me think I wasn't getting over and that nothing but her clever management kept me going." Bow and her father moved in at 1714 North Kingsley Drive in Hollywood, together with Jacobson, who by then also worked for Preferred. When Schulberg learned of this arrangement, he fired Jacobson for potentially getting "his big star" into a scandal. When Bow found out, "She tore up her contract and threw it in his face and told him he couldn't run her private life." Jacobson concluded, "[Clara] was the sweetest girl in the world, but you didn't cross her and you didn't do her wrong." On September 7, 1924, The Los Angeles Times, in a significant article "A dangerous little devil is Clara, impish, appealing, but oh, how she can act!", her father is titled "business manager" and Jacobson referred to as her brother.

Bow appeared in eight releases in 1924.

In Poisoned Paradise, released on February 29, 1924, Bow got her first lead. "... the clever little newcomer whose work wins fresh recommendations with every new picture in which she appears". In a scene described as "original", Bow adds "devices" to "the modern flapper": she fights a villain using her fists, and significantly, does not "shrink back in fear".

In Daughters of Pleasure, also released on February 29, 1924, Bow and Marie Prevost "flapped unhampered as flappers De luxe ... I wish somebody could star Clara Bow. I'm sure her 'infinite variety' would keep her from wearying us no matter how many scenes she was in."

Loaned out to Universal, Bow top-starred, for the first time, in the prohibition, bootleg drama/comedy Wine, released on August 20, 1924. The picture exposes the widespread liquor traffic in the upper classes, and Bow portrays an innocent girl who develops into a wild "red-hot mama".

"If not taken as information, it is cracking good entertainment," Carl Sandburg reviewed September 29.

"Don't miss Wine. It's a thoroughly refreshing draught ... there are only about five actresses who give me a real thrill on the screen—and Clara is nearly five of them".

Alma Whitaker of The Los Angeles Times observed on September 7, 1924:

She radiates sex appeal tempered with an impish sense of humor ... She hennas her blond hair so that it will photograph dark in the pictures ... Her social decorum is of that natural, good-natured, pleasantly informal kind ... She can act on or off the screen—takes a joyous delight in accepting a challenge to vamp any selected male—the more unpromising specimen the better. When the hapless victim is scared into speechlessness, she gurgles with naughty delight and tries another.

Bow remembered: "All this time I was 'running wild', I guess, in the sense of trying to have a good time ... maybe this was a good thing, because I suppose a lot of that excitement, that joy of life, got onto the screen."

In 1925, Bow appeared in 14 productions: six for her contract owner, Preferred Pictures, and eight as an "out-loan".

"Clara Bow ... shows alarming symptoms of becoming the sensation of the year ... ", Motion Picture Classic Magazine wrote in June, and featured her on the cover.

I'm almost never satisfied with myself or my work or anything...by the time I'm ready to be a great star I'll have been on the screen such a long time that everybody will be tired of seeing me...(Tears filled her big round eyes and threatened to fall).

I worked in two and even three pictures at once. I played all sorts of parts in all sorts of pictures ... It was very hard at the time and I used to be worn out and cry myself to sleep from sheer fatigue after 18 hours a day on different sets, but now [late 1927] I am glad of it.

Preferred Pictures loaned Bow to producers "for sums ranging from $1500 to $2000 a week" while paying Bow a salary of $200 to $750 a week. The studio, like any other independent studio or theater at that time, was under attack from "The Big Three", MPAA, which had formed a trust to block out Independents and enforce the monopolistic studio system. On October 21, 1925, Schulberg filed Preferred Pictures for bankruptcy, with debts at $820,774 and assets $1,420. Three days later, it was announced that Schulberg would join with Adolph Zukor to become associate producer of Paramount Pictures, "catapulted into this position because he had Clara Bow under personal contract".

Adolph Zukor, Paramount Picture CEO, wrote in his memoirs: "All the skill of directors and all the booming of press-agent drums will not make a star. Only the audiences can do it. We study audience reactions with great care." Adela Rogers St. Johns had a different take: in 1950, she wrote, "If ever a star was made by public demand, it was Clara Bow." And Louise Brooks (from 1980): "(Bow) became a star without nobody's help ..."

The Plastic Age was Bow's final effort for Preferred Pictures and her biggest hit up to that time. Bow starred as the good-bad college girl, Cynthia Day, against Donald Keith. It was shot on location at Pomona College in the summer of 1925, and released on December 15, but due to block booking, it was not shown in New York until July 21, 1926.

Photoplay was displeased: "The college atmosphere is implausible and Clara Bow is not our idea of a college girl."

Theater owners, however, were happy: "The picture is the biggest sensation we ever had in our theater ... It is 100 per cent at the box-office."

Some critics felt Bow had conquered new territory: "(Bow) presents a whimsical touch to her work that adds greater laurels to her fast ascending star of screen popularity."

Time singled out Bow: "Only the amusing and facile acting of Clara Bow rescues the picture from the limbo of the impossible."

Bow began to date her co-star Gilbert Roland, who became her first fiancé. In June 1925, Bow was credited for being the first to wear hand-painted legs in public, and was reported to have many followers at the Californian beaches.

Throughout the 1920s, Bow played with gender conventions and sexuality in her public image. Along with her tomboy and flapper roles, she starred in boxing films and posed for promotional photographs as a boxer. By appropriating traditionally androgynous or masculine traits, Bow presented herself as a confident, modern woman.

"Rehearsals sap my pep," Bow explained in November 1929, and from the beginning of her career, she relied on immediate direction: "Tell me what I have to do and I'll do it." Bow was keen on poetry and music, but according to Rogers St. Johns, her attention span did not allow her to appreciate novels. Bow's focal point was the scene, and her creativity made directors call in extra cameras to cover her spontaneous actions, rather than holding her down.

Years after Bow left Hollywood, director Victor Fleming compared Bow to a Stradivarius violin: "Touch her, and she responded with genius." Director William Wellman was less poetic: "Movie stardom isn't acting ability—it's personality and temperament ... I once directed Clara Bow (Wings). She was mad and crazy, but WHAT a personality!". And in 1981, Budd Schulberg described Bow as "an easy winner of the dumbbell award" who "couldn't act," and compared her to a puppy that his father B. P. Schulberg "trained to become Lassie."

In 1926, Bow appeared in eight releases: five for Paramount, including the film version of the musical Kid Boots with Eddie Cantor, and three loan-outs that had been filmed in 1925.

In late 1925, Bow returned to New York to co-star in the Ibsenesque drama Dancing Mothers, as the good/bad "flapperish" upper-class daughter Kittens. Alice Joyce starred as her dancing mother, with Conway Tearle as "bad-boy" Naughton. The picture was released on March 1, 1926.

"Clara Bow, known as the screen's perfect flapper, does her stuff as the child, and does it well."

"... her remarkable performance in Dancing Mothers ... ".

Louise Brooks remembered: "She was absolutely sensational in the United States ... in Dancing Mothers ... she just swept the country ... I know I saw her ... and I thought ... wonderful."

On April 12, 1926, Bow signed her first contract with Paramount: "...to retain your services as an actress for the period of six months from June 6, 1926 to December 6, 1926, at a salary of $750.00 per week...".

In Victor Fleming's comedy-triangle, Mantrap, Bow, as Alverna the manicurist, cures lonely hearts Joe Easter (Ernest Torrence), of the great northern, as well as pill-popping New York divorce attorney runaway Ralph Prescott (Percy Marmont). Bow commented: "(Alverna)...was bad in the book, but—darn it!—of course, they couldn't make her that way in the picture. So I played her as a flirt." The film was released on July 24, 1926.

Variety: "Clara Bow just walks away with the picture from the moment she walks into camera range."

Photoplay: "When she is on the screen nothing else matters. When she is off, the same is true."

Carl Sandburg: "The smartest and swiftest work as yet seen from Miss Clara Bow."

The Reel Journal: "Clara Bow is taking the place of Gloria Swanson...(and)...filling a long need for a popular taste movie actress."

On August 16, 1926, Bow's agreement with Paramount was renewed into a five-year deal: "Her salary will start at $1700 a week and advance yearly to $4000 a week for the last year."[78] Bow added that she intended to leave the motion picture business at the expiration of the contract, i.e., in 1931.

In 1927, Bow appeared in six Paramount releases: It, Children of Divorce, Rough House Rosie, Wings, Hula and Get Your Man. In the Cinderella story It, the poor shop-girl Betty Lou Spence (Bow) conquers the heart of her employer Cyrus Waltham (Antonio Moreno). The personal quality —"It"— provides the magic to make it happen. The film gave Bow her nickname, "The 'It' Girl."

The New York Times: "(Bow)...is vivacious and, as Betty Lou, saucy, which perhaps is one of the ingredients of It."

The Film Daily: "Clara Bow gets a real chance and carries it off with honors...(and)...she is really the whole show."

Carl Sandburg: "'It' is smart, funny and real. It makes a full-sized star of Clara Bow."

Variety: "You can't get away from this Clara Bow girl. She certainly has that certain 'It'...and she just runs away with the film."

Dorothy Parker is often said to have referred to Bow when she wrote, "It, hell; she had Those."[109] Parker in actuality was not referring to Bow or to Bow's character in the film It, but to a different character, Ava Cleveland, in the novel of the same name.

In 1927, Bow starred in Wings, a war picture rewritten to accommodate her, as she was Paramount's biggest star, but was not happy about her part: "[Wings is]...a man's picture and I'm just the whipped cream on top of the pie." The film went on to win the first Academy Award for Best Picture. In 1928, Bow appeared in four Paramount releases: Red Hair, Ladies of the Mob, The Fleet's In, and Three Weekends, all of which are lost.

Adela Rogers St. Johns, a noted screenwriter who had done a number of pictures with Bow, wrote about her:

There seems to be no pattern, no purpose to her life. She swings from one emotion to another, but she gains nothing, stores up nothing for the future. She lives entirely in the present, not even for today, but in the moment. Clara is the total nonconformist. What she wants she gets, if she can. What she desires to do she does. She has a big heart, a remarkable brain, and the most utter contempt for the world in general. Time doesn't exist for her, except that she thinks it will stop tomorrow. She has real courage, because she lives boldly. Who are we, after all, to say she is wrong?

Bow's bohemian lifestyle and "dreadful" manners were considered reminders of the Hollywood elite's uneasy position in high society. Bow fumed: "They yell at me to be dignified. But what are the dignified people like? The people who are held up as examples for me? They are snobs. Frightful snobs ... I'm a curiosity in Hollywood. I'm a big freak, because I'm myself!"

MGM executive Paul Bern said Bow was "the greatest emotional actress on the screen", "sentimental, simple, childish and sweet," and considered her "hard-boiled attitude" a "defense mechanism".

With "talkies" The Wild Party, Dangerous Curves, and The Saturday Night Kid, all released in 1929, Bow kept her position as the top box-office draw and queen of Hollywood.

Neither the quality of Bow's voice nor her Brooklyn accent was an issue to Bow, her fans, or Paramount. However, Bow, like Charlie Chaplin, Louise Brooks, and most other silent film stars, did not embrace the novelty: "I hate talkies ... they're stiff and limiting. You lose a lot of your cuteness, because there's no chance for action, and action is the most important thing to me." A visibly nervous Bow had to do a number of retakes in The Wild Party because her eyes kept wandering up to the microphone overhead. "I can't buck progress .. I have to do the best I can," she said. In October 1929, Bow described her nerves as "all shot", saying that she had reached "the breaking point", and Photoplay cited reports of "rows of bottles of sedatives" by her bed.

According to the 1930 census, Bow lived at 512 Bedford Drive, together with her secretary and hairdresser, Daisy DeBoe (later DeVoe), in a house valued $25,000 with neighbors titled "Horse-keeper", "Physician", "Builder". Bow stated she was 23 years old, i.e., born 1906, contradicting the censuses of 1910 and 1920.

"Now they're having me sing. I sort of half-sing, half-talk, with hips-and-eye stuff. You know what I mean—like Maurice Chevalier. I used to sing at home and people would say, 'Pipe down! You're terrible!' But the studio thinks my voice is great."

With Paramount on Parade, True to the Navy, Love Among the Millionaires, and Her Wedding Night, Bow was second at the box-office only to Joan Crawford in 1930. With No Limit and Kick In, Bow held the position as fifth at box-office in 1931, but the pressures of fame, public scandals, overwork, and a damaging court trial charging her secretary Daisy DeVoe with financial mismanagement, took their toll on Bow's fragile emotional health. As she slipped closer to a major breakdown, her manager, B.P. Schulberg, began referring to her as "Crisis-a-day-Clara". In April, Bow was brought to a sanatorium, and at her request, Paramount released her from her final undertaking: City Streets (1931). At 25, her career was essentially over.

B.P. Schulberg tried to replace Bow with his girlfriend Sylvia Sidney, but Paramount went into receivership, lost its position as the biggest studio (to MGM), and fired Schulberg. David Selznick explained:

...[when] Bow was at her height in pictures we could make a story with her in it and gross a million and a half, where another actress would gross half a million in the same picture and with the same cast.

Bow left Hollywood for Rex Bell's ranch in Nevada, her "desert paradise", in June[120] and married him in then small-town Las Vegas in December. In an interview on December 17, Bow detailed her way back to health: sleep, exercise, and food, and the day after[122] she returned to Hollywood "for the sole purpose of making enough money to be able to stay out of it."

Soon, every studio in Hollywood (except Paramount) and even overseas wanted her services. Mary Pickford stated that Bow "was a very great actress" and wanted her to play her sister in Secrets (1933), Howard Hughes offered her a three-picture deal, and MGM wanted her to star in Red-Headed Woman (1932). Bow agreed to the script, but eventually rejected the offer since Irving Thalberg required her to sign a long-term contract.

On April 28, 1932, Bow signed a two-picture deal with Fox Film Corporation, for Call Her Savage (1932) and Hoop-La (1933). Both were successful; Variety favored the latter. The October 1934, Family Circle Film Guide rated the film as "pretty good entertainment", and of Miss Bow said: "This is the most acceptable bit of talkie acting Miss Bow has done." However, they noted, "Miss Bow is presented in her dancing duds as often as possible, and her dancing duds wouldn't weigh two pounds soaking wet." Bow commented on her revealing costume in Hoop-La: "Rex accused me of enjoying showing myself off. Then I got a little sore. He knew darn well I was doing it because we could use a little money these days. Who can't?"

Bow reflected on her career:

My life in Hollywood contained plenty of uproar. I'm sorry for a lot of it but not awfully sorry. I never did anything to hurt anyone else. I made a place for myself on the screen and you can't do that by being Mrs. Alcott's idea of a Little Woman.

Bow and actor Rex Bell (later a lieutenant governor of Nevada) had two sons, Tony Beldam (born 1934, changed name to Rex Anthony Bell, Jr., died July 8, 2011) and George Beldam, Jr. (born 1938). Bow retired from acting in 1933. In September 1937, she and Bell opened The 'It' Cafe in the Hollywood Plaza Hotel at 1637 N Vine Street near Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles. It closed in 1943. Her last public performance, albeit fleeting, came in 1947 on the radio show Truth or Consequences. Bow was the mystery voice in the show's "Mrs. Hush" contest.

Bow eventually began showing symptoms of psychiatric illness. She became socially withdrawn, and although she refused to socialize with her husband, she also refused to let him leave the house alone. In 1944, while Bell was running for the U.S. House of Representatives, Bow tried to commit suicide. A note was found in which Bow stated she preferred death to a public life.

In 1949, she checked into the Institute of Living to be treated for her chronic insomnia and diffuse abdominal pains. Shock treatment was tried and numerous psychological tests performed. Bow's IQ was measured "bright normal", while others claimed she was unable to reason, had poor judgment and displayed inappropriate or even bizarre behavior. Her pains were considered delusional and she was diagnosed with schizophrenia; however, she experienced neither auditory nor visual hallucinations. Analysts tied the onset of the illness, as well as her insomnia, to the "butcher knife episode" back in 1922, but Bow rejected psychological explanations and left the Institute. She did not return to her family. After leaving the institution, Bow lived alone in a bungalow, which she rarely left, until her death.

Bow spent her last years in Culver City, under the constant care of a nurse, Estalla Smith, living off an estate worth about $500,000 at the time of her death. In 1965, at age 60, she died of a heart attack, which was attributed to atherosclerosis discovered in an autopsy. She was interred in the Freedom Mausoleum, Sanctuary of Heritage at Forest Lawn Memorial Park Cemetery in Glendale, California. Her pallbearers were Harry Richman, Richard Arlen, Jack Oakie, Maxie Rosenbloom, Jack Dempsey, and Buddy Rogers.

#clara bow #silent movie stars #silent era #silent hollywood #silent cinema #golden age of hollywood

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redrobinfection · 6 years ago

Text

I’ll Be There

AN: A gift for @chibinightowl in (belated) celebration of her birthday. Hope this is all you hoped it would be, more even (and not too over the top, at that! =_=;) ❤ Happy Birthday!

WARNING: This is hard-core emotional hurt/comfort. This gets really dark, really introspective, and really, really psychologically unhealthy in places. There is a lot of self-blame being tossed around; there are some panic attacks and near panic attacks; there is a lot of discussion of past canon character death(s), claustrophobia, and mortality on the whole. I had to go to a very deep, dark place inside myself to write sections of this. So, if any of that sounds like it might upset you or set off your own emotional spiral, turn around RIGHT NOW and go read something fluffier. I've written plenty of physical hurt/comfort with fluffy fluff at the end, not to mention the tons of pure fluff, so take your pick and stay safe, my friends.

---

Jason's laughter over Dick's latest exploits - teaching Damian to make rice crispy treats - dims faster than Tim was expecting and he stiffens slightly beside him on the couch. Tim looks up from his tablet. "What's up?"

Jason's fingers are frozen over the pull-down menu on his phone and he is staring intensely at the screen. Tim leans in and quickly reads over the message Damian sent, but what he finds isn't alarming enough to warrant the grim cast of Jason's expression and the tension Tim can feel radiating off of him in waves.

"It's almost April," is all Jason replies, tone curiously flat.

Tim glances down at the date. Saturday, 27 March. "Yeah, wha-" he begins then cuts off abruptly as it hits him; the 27th... April… April 27th, the day Jason died just over ten years ago. He sobers instantly and reaches out to grip Jason's forearm lightly, but firmly.

Last year's anniversary had been rough on him, Tim had learned, after the fact, in bits and pieces that Jason had shared with forced offhandedness. Just remembering it made Tim wince. He had learned more about it from the other family members who - as Bats, had never had enough sense or decency to keep out of other people's business - had kept tabs on Jason throughout the day. According to them, 'rough' was an understatement.

"The 27th," Tim murmurs softly, squeezing Jason's forearm gently. It wasn't question, but Jason replies anyway, his gaze going distant and somewhat pained as memories of years before and years back alike clearly flash before him.

"Yeah..."

Last year had been the first April they'd been officially 'together', but Tim hadn't been around for last April 27th. He wasn't there for Jason and for no good reason at all. Only because he hadn't thought about it, because Jason had never said anything about it, because… it doesn't matter why now, all that matters is that he feels awful about it.

He just went about his business as usual, going out to the Titans for the weekend, coming back a few days later. He didn't worry too much when Jason went quieter than usual right before he left. Didn't think too much about it when Jason didn't call him even once over that weekend.

Some boyfriend he was turning out to be…

"I'll be there," Tim promises solemnly, gripping his arm tightly.

Jason relaxes, eyes blinking as he comes back to himself, and nods jerkily, corners of his mouth twitching into the ghost of his normal, snarky grin. "I… yeah. Please."

~*~

Tim clicks vigorously at the blocks on his Wayne Enterprises schedule on his computer screen and sends them back to his secretary with notes on who to call and when to reschedule them. He leans back in his office chair and considers the day he's just emptied out. Tuesday, April 27th.

He's known about this day for years. It didn't take long after he became Robin for him to learn the exact circumstances of Jason's death. 'Let it serve as a warning' and all that. Grim case files aside, it is hard to forget all the times he had to pull Bruce out of dark reveries right around the same time at the end of April every year. Too many anniversaries he had to pull Batman off of muggers he had beaten just this side of 'too hard'.

So, it's not like Tim could ever forget that date or its significance. He didn't forget it last year, either, to be honest. He'd just never seen or thought about how Jason would spend that day... the day he had died. What are you supposed to do, how are you supposed to feel on a day like that? Mournful? Angry? Contemplative? All of the above?

Tim leans forward and exits the hourly view with a sharp keystroke. He left clicks it in the week view and blocks it out entirely. Better safe than sorry. He sighs and leans back into his seat once more, staring pensively out of the massive windows of his corner office at the bleak, misty day outside.

He had always assumed that Jason liked to spend the day alone, working through what ever he was feeling on his own, because that was apparently what he'd done every single year since he'd come back. Furthermore, whenever anyone would offer to come over, have him over, or take him somewhere, Jason would always brush them off, and if anyone got any ideas about snooping around uninvited, he would always them chase away, often angrily, sometimes violently. So, Tim figured he needed that time to himself.

Now Tim knows that the only reason Jason never lets anyone get close to him on that date is because he never feels it's safe enough to be around anyone else. During his most vulnerable times, Jason - like Tim - curls in on himself and pushes away the people he should hold close, being too afraid to show weakness, too afraid too reveal his inner workings, out of fear that others will push him away, or worse, attack him while he's down.

Jason admitted this to Tim sometime in February of last year. He described the masks, literal and figurative, that he wears around everyone - different masks for each of them, each taking a different toll on him - and how much energy it takes, sometimes, just to exist in the same space as other people. He also admitted that, for the first time in his life, he feels as if he's found someone he doesn't have to try so hard around, someone who he trusts to see him without any masks. Someone he would trust to be there when he's at his lowest.

He had looked Tim in the eye as he said this and made it perfectly clear he was looking right at that 'someone'.

Tim's face burns at the memory, in shame as well as a blend of embarrassment and affection. He whirls around in the desk chair and punches the keys on his keyboard, backing the calendar out to the month view. He left clicks the date and hovers over the options, eyes growing distant.

Jason had said that to him, and he - the 'World's Second Greatest Detective' - couldn't even take a hint! Couldn't connect the dots until Jason had made a comment in passing some time after Tim had returned, something about how he was glad that Tim had had his own stuff going on at the end of April, and gotten coverage in Gotham, because he, Jason, had had a pretty rough week and wouldn't have been up for their usual patrols. It had taken Tim a hot second - had had to catch himself right before he was about to ask why it had been such a hard week - but then, all of a sudden, it had all clicked together, guilt striking him with all the force and pain of a batarang to the chest.

Tim comes back to himself and clicks the option to block out the date completely, for every year in the foreseeable future, with no exceptions. He sighs, and leans back in the chair one final time, steepling his fingers. He rests his chin against them as he frowns at the screen.

He messed up last year. No question. He wasn't where he needed to be, wasn't where he should have been. This year he won't mess up. He made a promise. He'll be there.

~*~

"Hey, Babs, sorry to bother you after a long night, but I need to ask for a favor."

"Hey, Tim. It's been a while since you've called my secure number instead of calling over the comms. What's up?"

Tim sighed and stretched out in his wheelie chair. He was sitting at the console for his own personal 'Batcomputer' in the Perch, typing up the night's reports. "Yeah, well, it's the kind of family sensitive thing I didn't want to float across the comm lines, secure or not."

"Ah" Barbara responds succinctly, the single word speaking volumes to her understanding. Tim hears a few quiet clicks and then Babs confirms, "This line is now 100% secure. No prying ears, Bats or otherwise, will hear this conversation, on my end, at least. So what's up?"

Tim feels a tension leech out of his shoulders that he didn't even realize he'd been carrying. "Two Tuesdays from now could you quietly bring in one of the Birds of Prey to cover my, and maybe Jason's, patrol routes?"

"Well, Jason already asked for coverage that day - for the whole week actually - and Cass is coming back but why would-- oh." The line goes quiet for a few seconds before Barbara continues in a subdued tone. "He asked you to stay with him that night?"

"Yeah, I'm taking the whole day off," Tim responds, absently spinning a Birdarang on the desk to give his fidgety fingers something to do. "I…wow. I didn't realize Jason was taking the whole week."

"Yeah, he always takes that entire week - the day before and several days after, so he's not tempted to tear up the town while he's still in his usual funk - it's no secret. So why with all the 'hush-hush' from you?"

"I…" The Birdarang falters in midspin and he quickly sets the disc aside and sits up in his chair. "I didn't want to make a big deal out of it. This is the first time Jason is letting anyone stay with him and I thought that if the family found out or if Jay heard me making the request over the comms…"

"That he'd be upset that you were attracting attention to the whole thing," Barbara finishes. She sighs. "Yeah, it's probably wise to keep it on the down low, but to be honest, I think this is the one thing Bruce and Dick would leave alone no matter what." She chuckles. "After years of repeated failures, they've 'wisely' taken my advice and are waiting for him to feel ready to open up before they force their way in."

"That's… surprising, but good to hear," Tim admits with a small smile.

"In any case, I'll find someone to cover your routes that night. Is there anything else you needed while I have you on the line?"

"Actually," Tim speaks slowly, weighing his options, "Do you think you could make it the entire week? Now that I know Jay will be down that whole time…"

"Uh. Sure," Babs replies in mild surprise, the sound of keys clicking rapidly in the background. "Done. But can you really afford to be away that long?"

Tim's expression turns grim. "I'll have to. I wasn't there last year, Babs. I have to be there for him this year."

She hums thoughtfully then trails off. The line is silent for so long that for a moment Tim thinks she's hung up on him. Then… "Tim, you know that Jason doesn't blame you for not being around last year, right? You guys had only just gotten together, so he probably didn't feel completely ready to have you there until now anyway."

Tim exhales slowly through his nose, consciously working to dispel the tension that had crept back into his shoulders as Babs spoke. "It doesn't matter. I still feel awful for not even thinking to ask if he wanted me to stay. So I have to be there. I will be there."

"Okay..."

~*~

Everything is set. It's the Thursday before the anniversary and Tim is feeling good about the preparations he's made.

He's cleared his WE work schedule, not only for the day of the anniversary, but also for the day before and the day after. He's arranged for patrol coverage for the entire week and even finished off most of his current caseload, passing off the last of it to Steph and Damian. He spoke briefly and discreetly with both Dick and Bruce to let them know where he'll be and why, and, to his surprise - and appreciation - they not only accepted his explanations without argument, they also completely agreed to give him and Jason space - without even being asked! He even called the Titans to let them know he wouldn't be out there this weekend, or the next, and, to their credit, they had tripped over themselves telling him to take as much time as he and Jason needed.

Which is why, of course, Kon is on the phone with him right this second, begging Tim to come help the Titans.

"Rob, dude, we're barely holding it together as it is. We need you out here, like, yesterday," Conner tells him over the emergency line. Tim rubs the bridge of his nose to ward away the headache building between his eyes. "I wouldn't call you out here if it wasn't a matter of life or death. We've already called in the Justice League, but with half their members off-world and most of the leadership tied up elsewhere we're really struggling here. We need you."

Tim tells Kon that he'll call him back. Jason was in the room when the phone rang and heard everything. The minute Tim lowers the phone, Jason tells him to go. For the first time since they got together over a year ago, they argue for real.

"You know it's okay, right? You can go. Go help the Titans. I'll be fine."

"Jason, I'm not going to do that to you. I took this weekend off for a reason-"

"I didn't ask you to do that."

"You asked me to be here."

"Yeah, for the anniversary. Tim, it's on Tuesday. Today's Thursday."

"Yeah, but just in case..."

"I'm not a dainty fucking princess, dammit! The mere thought that day, days away from now, isn't going to send me into fits. I kind of expected you to be gone for the weekend, anyway, off with the Titans like you always are."

"Jason, it's not just for the weekend! If I go out there now, there's no guarantee I'll make it back in time. I don't want to risk it."

"It's fine."

"It's really not."

"Tim, just go help the Titans, already. I'll be fine. I promise."

In the end, Tim is reduced to the point of begging. "Jason, please… please don't ask me to leave you here alone when I promised I would be here, that I would be here for you no matter what," he pleads. He's practically vibrating with anxiety, his body tense with poorly-suppressed fear. Jason seems legitimately shocked at the force of his reaction, face frozen in a look halfway between frustration and alarm. "If I can't make it back… if you need someone…"

Jason's expression gentles and he pulls Tim close, tucking his head under his own and rubbing one hand across his back soothingly. "I've been on my own for years. I'll be fine. Go do you what you need to do, Babybird. Go save the world; it needs you more right now than I do."

Tim pulls away slowly, looking up at Jason with an expression torn between concern and desperation. "You'll call me if things get bad?"

Jason nods. "I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

~*~

Jason calls, just like he promised, but Tim isn't there to accept the call.

To be fair, things were legitimately awful out in California. Between the early season wildfires that had been tearing through the countryside for weeks, the massive earthquake that ripped up the fault lines of SoCal more recently, and the major assaults launched by not one but two of the Titan's biggest foes - H.I.V.E. and Brother Blood - to take advantage opening created by the back-to-back natural disasters, the Teen Titans and those of the Justice League who could be spared to respond to the triple disaster were stretched to their utmost limits.

Tim spent day after day, hour after hour coordinating round-the-clock ops against HIVE and the Church of Blood while also working non-stop with emergency services and the remaining heroes to coordinate rescue efforts. Between handling all comms, assigning rescue missions, coordinating strike teams, troubleshooting EMS communications and the phone grid, repairing power grids, and participating in search and rescue in the final stretch, Tim hadn't slept more than five hours since he'd touched down, and rarely in segments of more than five or ten minutes at a time. Time always ceased to mean much while they were on the go non-stop and eventually the days blurred together until it was difficult to tell how many had passed since it had all begun.

Tim's heart nearly stops the first chance he gets to check his personal cell, not just for the three missed calls and one new voicemail from 'J. Todd', but for also the date and time that glow innocently up at him on his homescreen.

08:47, 27 April, 20xx.

"K-kon! I need you!"

Kon comes flying to his side from halfway across the state expecting a fight or to carry an injured - possibly dying - Tim to safety, but after he calms down, Tim eventually convinces the confused and weary Super that it is imperative that he make it back to Gotham in the next hour.

"Jeez, I thought you were in trouble, dude. Don't scare me like that," Kon chastises as he lifts him and they speed off toward the rising sun.

"I am in trouble, Kon. I promised Jay I'd be there today. I should have been back last night! I knew this would happen if I came out here!"

"Chill, dude. I'm sure Jason's fine. You make it sound like he's going into labor or dying or something."

"This is the day that he died twelve years ago, Kon, and every year he goes through hell reliving it all alone, so, yeah, he is kind of dying!" Tim yells over the rushing wind. He squints toward the horizon. "Can't you fly any faster?!"

Superboy rolls his eyes, wraps a bubble of TTK around them - the tug and roar of the wind around them abruptly ceases - then picks up speed, easily breaking the sound barrier. "No need to shout, dude," Kon placates him in calming tones. "You're lucky I can protect us from the wind, otherwise we wouldn't be able to make the trip at mach 1. Is that fast enough for you?"

"What are you talking about?! You peak at mach 2.1 on a bad day! Why are you going so slow?!"

Tim is still shouting despite the bubble of quiet. Kon winces and shakes his head. He opens his mouth to respond, but Tim babbles on over him, bitching and moaning bitterly.

"I knew this would happen! I knew it! It's all because you had to drag me out to San Fran! Why'd I even pick up the phone? I can't believe I let this happen! I can't believe I let you and Jason talk me into thinking this would work out. I knew this would happen!"

Kon jostles Tim a bit, which, thankfully, shuts him up for a moment. He readjusts his TTK grip, pulls Tim closer, and lights up his metaphorical afterburners. "You know what? You're lucky you're getting a lift from me at all. You wanna see top speed? Fine! Shut up and hang on to your capes, kiddies, but don't complain to me when you're puking up coffee all over your roof in about fifteen minutes."

~*~

Jason isn't sure where he is anymore. He lost track hours ago, sometime, somewhere, in his frantic escape from the way the walls of each place he'd tried to settle down in closed in on him every time the memories bore down. He hasn't stopped moving since he started, he can't find a place that feels right, that feels safe to ride this out, because as soon as he stops, the walls start closing in again and every little noise is a crowbar being raised above him and every child's laugh turns sour and cold in his head. Safehouses, apartments - some of them his, many of them not - public parks, libraries, dank sewers, and secluded rooftops are all flashes in his memory, places he had pushed himself toward in some unnamed, indecipherable urgency, only to abandon with a hollow feeling of dread within minutes, if not seconds, of arriving.

This happens sometimes, in some years, on this day. Other years, he can't stand to move, can't move at all, and he hunkers down wherever he is and tries to block out the outside world long enough to shore up the growing cracks in his fragile mental state.

He had thought this anniversary was going to be one of those 'hide in a corner and try not to hyperventilate' ones, so the day before the anniversary he had picked out a suitable hidey hole, stocked it up with food, checked the security and soundproofing, then locked himself in. Barely five hours in the place, he began to feel that itch under his skin, that urge to move, to get away, to look for shelter in spite of the perfect fine one around him. He held it off for an hour, tried calling Tim - like he said he would - but in the end the crawling feeling in his bones and the lack of response drove him out of his appointed safehouse.

He doesn't remember most of his wandering, and that would worry him, except that some distant part of his mind that can worry about things like his personal safety and situational awareness knows that Oracle and Batman are tracking his every move like flies on the walls, giving him the space to deal with this on his own but ready to step in at a moment's notice to protect him from his own vulnerability.

He called Tim twice more after he started running, once when he stopped in Tim's theater Perch and felt, for the briefest instant, like this was safe place to stop, to stay, and then once again five minutes ago. But the itch is coming back again.

He doesn't want to leave the bolthole he's currently pacing the length of, but he can't sit still. He can't stay, he can't leave, but he can't stay. But if he leaves, Tim won't know where to find him, so he has to stay. But he can't…

He sets his phone down on the lone, rickety table and tugs at his already frazzled hair with both hands. The bolthole isn't big, but for a minute or so the small room had felt secure, knowable, safe. But then the walls started getting closer. He knows they're not moving, can see they're stationary, but he can't shake the feeling that they're inching inwards, reaching out to him, trapping him.

It's getting hard to breath. The dim lighting is darkens in his head, the sickly light not all that different from the glow of a timer from across a dark warehouse, the shadows not that far off from the absolute black of a sealed coffin. His hands are starting to shake, again, and everything around him feels so distant, even as the walls feel so close. He has to wait, he can't leave, Tim will come so he has to…

He's leaving. He leaves. He leaves his phone without realizing it.

Bursting through the door feels like clawing his way to freedom all over again, but also like rolling over to look up as the Joker brings down the crowbar for another hit, and he shudders as the memories rolls over him. He squints against the sunlight - bright, for once, but still so cold; taunting him, searing into his soul, despite the gentle warmth that washes over his skin - and hurries forward to the next shadow, shivering as the loss of light burns just as much as stepping into it had only seconds ago. He keeps moving and flounders in that state of neither here nor there as the memories flood up within him, all around him, and he wanders with urgent, pointless purpose.

It isn't usually this bad, this day. He can count on one hand the number of times he's gotten this worked up over the memories. It's not usually that big of a deal, he reminds himself, but right now he doesn't know where he is, he can't stop moving, can't stop shaking, can't breathe, can't remember how much time has passed… and he can't even care that much about any of that anymore and that...

That's bad. It's been a long time since it's been this bad.

He reaches into one pocket, then the next, then the back one, looking for his phone. He needs to call Tim. He said he would call. He doesn't find it.

A distant, reasonable part of him wants to feel okay that Tim didn't make it back in time, that he didn't make it back before he started to unravel. He told Tim to go. He told him it would be okay, that he'd be okay. He told himself that he's done this many times before, that he can handle it.

But now he remembers how awful each and every one of those times was, even the 'easier' ones. He remembers that terrible feeling of wanting someone, anyone, to be there to anchor him through the flood, but also not wanting anyone at all, not trusting anyone, pushing his family and friends and everyone away. This year was supposed to be different. Tim was supposed to be different. He's supposed to trust Tim. Tim is supposed to be there, be something for him to focus on instead of the maelstrom inside of him.

He wants it to be okay, but it isn't. He isn't angry that Tim isn't here. Tim said he'd be here, but Jason isn't angry. He told Tim he could go. It's okay. But now… Tim isn't here and Jason isn't okay.

It isn't okay.

~*~

"H-hey. Tim. It's, uh, me. I, uh… You're not back yet and I said I'd call if…… I'm in the Bowery safehouse, the bigger one, I know you know the one. Meet me here when you can. I'll- I'll see you."

Tim swallows convulsively, anxiety slithering up into his chest like so many wriggling snakes as he paces through the rooms of Jason's largest safehouse, the first voicemail Jason left echoing in his head. Tim knows he isn't here anymore - the rooms are dark, silent, almost foreboding - but he has to check, has to make sure Jason hasn't circled back, like he often does when he's restless and hopping between places.

Tim rushes from the final room back into the living room and perches on on the edge of the couch while he brings up the Bat-special locator program on his phone, sending out a ping to pin the latest location of Jason's phone on his mobile map. He gets a hit and springs to his feet. He has to find him, he has to get to him. He said he'd be there. He has to be there.

~*~

"I'm here. I mean, I- I left the Bowery place, but I'm here, again, I stopped moving. I'm, uh, in your Perch, that is. The Crime Alley one. I know I said that I could... I can't. Tim. I can't. Please come home. Get this and come ho- come back. I don't know long I can stay here. Please. Tim. Please."

Jason's not in his Burnley bolthole. His phone is, but he's not. Tim feels like he's going to fly apart. He wants to hurl his phone out the wall, he wants to hurl Jason's phone at the wall, he wants to-- his phone starts to ring.

Incoming Call from 'O.'

He barely registers his finger sliding across the screen to accept the call.

"Tim? Hey, Tim, you there? I saw you enter Jay's Burnley place a couple of minutes ago and already I know his phone trail stops there. I have eyes on him right now, so I need you to listen…"

Tim pockets Jason's phone and clutches his own to his ear, listening to Bab's steady voice with all the desperation of a drowning man thrashing towards air. He listens. He follows. He's going to get there. He will be there.

~*~

"T-tim. Tim. Tim. I-I. I can't. I'm. Burnley. In Burnley. I'm… I'm trying. I'm trying to wait but I can't. I can't stop. I can't wait. It's… it's bad. It's really bad this year. I'll- I'll call you. I'll call you… if I can. I'll try, but I don't… I can't…"

"Ja-Jason?"

Tim steps lightly into his very first safehouse - one of their favorite hangout spots back in the day - and searches with quick eyes and slow feet, as afraid to startle Jason as he might a feral cat. The stumbling, nonsensical sobbing of Jason's third and final voicemail is ringing in his ears as he rounds the corner and spots Jason pacing the small space of hallway between the living room and the kitchen. His voice trembles and breaks as he calls out again.

"Jason?"

Jason looks up.

~*~

He looks up at a sound and suddenly Tim is there, calling his name, rushing toward him and throwing his arms around him. Jason's body flinches before his brain catches up, but when it does - TIM! - he wraps his arms around Tim and squeezes, holding on for dear life. His mind hones in on Tim's presence and abruptly halts its spiraling, frantic cycle of respun memories like a dog pauses barking to listen when it hears a new sound, but, at the same time, Tim's sudden presence blows a whole new storm of emotion over him, so he hangs on to Tim so he won't be blown away, and Tim hangs on just as tightly back.

They stand there for a few minutes, just holding on to each other and rocking slightly with their breathing, until they each start to relax and loosen up against the other. When Jason's arms loosen up enough to give him room, Tim leans back and tilts his head up, the unshed tears in his eyes startling Jason. He doesn't think he's ever seen Tim cry before, or even come close.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, Jay, I'm so-" Tim buries his head into Jason's chest again so that his continued stream of garbled apologies is muffled into the fabric.

Jason feels as if someone just hit a struck a tuning fork his head, the pure tone snapping him out of the lingering traces of his earlier meltdown. He feels a curl of annoyance as he notes that Tim looks about as distressed as he felt earlier, maybe more. He isn't sure what Tim thinks gives him the right to feel worse than Jason on his own deathday, but focusing on Tim's bewildering distress does have the upside of giving him a reason and the urgency to compartmentalize his own for the moment.

"Tim. Timmy. Look at me."

Tim looks up and there are tears visibly swimming in his eyes. "-m so sorry. I said I'd be here and-"

"You're here now," Jason says firmly, fighting down the tiny urge to chuckle at how overly dramatically upset Tim is. He still feels pretty awful right now - nothing changes the past, changes his damage - but just having Tim here now, it's helping. Even this bullshit is helping. "Wow, you must not have slept very much over the weekend, you're a total wreck right now."

Tim makes a croaking sound halfway between anguish and indignance and takes a step back. One tear leaks out of his eye and rolls down his cheek. He whips up a hand to scrub it away, but Jason's hand gets there first and gently brushes it away. "I-I didn't but… But you've been frantic, you're were having a breakdown earlier, and I wasn't… I wasn't here." Tim takes a shaky breath and angrily scrubs the tears out of his other eye before they can spill over. "I wasn't here for you."

"I was and you weren't," Jason intones solemnly. "And I still feel pretty shitty, but this… whatever this" - he waves his hands vaguely around Tim and grins weakly - "is about is pretty distracting, so thanks for that."

Tim scrubs at his eyes again vigorously and his expression darkens. "I made you a promise and I broke it, that's what this is about. I said I'd be here and I wasn't. You were having an awful time, and no one you trusted was here for you. That's not okay."

"No, it wasn't okay. I wasn't okay," Jason admits seriously before gently grabbing Tim by the shoulders and gently shaking him as he leans down into his space. "But you're here now. It'll be okay. We'll be okay.

"Will it? Will we?" Tim bites off angrily, pulling away from Jason's touch. He looks into Jason's eyes miserably. "I broke your trust, worse, I made you go through all of that alone and I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for that and…"

Tim is angry, but Jason can tell it isn't with him for making light of the situation. He's upset with himself. Disproportionately upset with himself and Jason is starting to get a bad feeling about it. Time to nip this line of thought in the bud.

"I can forgive you," Jason cuts in loudly, pinning Tim with an insistent stare. "Easily. I never blamed you to begin with. And you certainly haven't broken my trust. I told you to go. That's on me. Let me decide how I feel about it, okay? Besides," Jason lets some of his annoyance color his voice and he points an accusing finger at Tim, "Since when did this become all about you and your need to self-flagellate over everything, huh? Leave a little misery for the guy who actually died on this day, will ya?"

Tim covers his face with both hands and turns away, groaning. He leans over and makes a sound of disgust as he scrubs at his face. "Ugh. You're right. I turned this all back on me and made it all about myself." He sank down into a crouch and covered his eyes with one hand. "I guess I'm sorry for that, too? Damn… I suck. I'm so sorry, Jay. This was supposed to be about you and helping you and… I'm sorry."

Jason crouches down beside him. "Tim. Look at me. You don't suck." He takes Tim's hand and pulls him to his feet. "And I'm not sorry. A little annoyed, yeah, but also a little glad." Tim gives him an incredulous look and Jason chuckles and gently pulls the smaller man into his chest. "It's probably not the healthiest thing - I dunno, I'm not a psychologist," he mumbles into Tim's hair as he wraps his arms around him and squeezes softly, "but sometimes getting sucked into someone else's problems is a great way to take a step back from your own. So thanks for pulling me out of mine and into yours for a hot second."

Jason feels Tim huff a quiet laugh against his chest and then wrap his arms around his waist. "You're welcome?"

Jason rocks them from side to side, almost like they're dancing to some unheard music, and continues speaking in soft tones. "So now that you've helped me helping you with your problems, let me help you help me."

Tim tenses and looks up instantly, brow crinkling slightly. "What do you need?"

Jason chuckles and rocks them a little harder, pulling Tim out of his rigid stance. "Easy, there. Don't give yourself whiplash, Timbo." He hums and leans his forehead down to rest on Tim's. "As for what I need... this was great and all - this impromptu game of tag plus hide 'n seek plus lots of feelings and talking at the end - but I think I need to retrace my steps 'cause I think might have dropped my phone somewhere, and then, after that, maybe it'd be nice to actually settle down somewhere for a while and ride out my annual deathday meltdowns the right way, the healthy way."

Tim's eyebrows rise. "Healthy way? What is that?"

He shrugs, and grins weakly. "I dunno, still working on it. Thought maybe you could help with that."

Tim pulls back and meets his gaze thoughtfully. "Yeah, I think I can do that. And hey," he looks down and starts digging around in his pockets. "Uh… not that one, how about… ah! There it is. I can fix your first problem," he replies, offering up Jason's phone.

"Oh, good! Because retracing my steps would actually be pretty tough since I, uh, don't actually remember all that much about how I got here," he admits with a chagrined grimace and a shrug.

"Jason…"

"Hey. None of that. I didn't ask for no pity," he cuts in, giving Tim a look that is half disapproving, half teasing.

"No, no pity, I would never," Tim backtracks playfully, before turning serious. "But empathy… ouch."

Jason swallows and lets that hang for a second, then nods. "Yeah. Ouch."

Tim buries his head into Jason's chest again and squeezes. Jason lets him, accepting the unspoken gesture of comfort and commiseration and returning it with a squeeze of his own. After a moment Tim pulls away again and smiles up at him fondly.

"Let's get out of here. I'd say we could stay at this place" - he turns his head to look around the sparsely furnished space with fond sadness - "but we haven't used it in a while and I can't really say how well-stocked it is right now."

Jason shakes his head. "Nah, let's head back to my main safehouse. I bought a whole bunch of food over the weekend and stockpiled a whole bunch of stuff for us there, so we should be good to hide out there for a few days."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Tim replies agreeably. "Did you uh…" he trails off with a grimace. "How did you get over here?"

"I uh… I think I walked? I did have my bike at one point but…"

Tim shakes his head and offers his hand. "Let's take mine. We can track yours down later."

"Sounds good to me," Jason agrees. He slips his hand into Tim's, and together they leave his frantic wandering in the dust on Tim's safehouse floor, behind them, where it belongs.

~*~

"This uhh… wasn't what I was expecting."

Jason steps out of the kitchen, carrying two bowls of chili - complete with fried tortilla tucked along the sides and a mountain of cheddar cheese on each - and raises an eyebrow at Tim.

Tim sweeps his hand in gesture to Jason's current attire - his baggiest, softest sweatpants; the biggest, softest t-shirt Tim had owned before Jason had lovingly nicked it from his pyjama drawer; and the softest fucking blanket he owned draped over his shoulders - then to the food, and finally to the colorful, animated space adventure show queued up on Netflix. He shrugs. "I just figured… it'd be different? From when we usually hang out? I just thought you'd want, I dunno, quiet time and maybe… talking? Not that I'm not down for this, I just…"

Jason sighs and settles down on the couch, setting the bowls on the coffee table. "Tim, I don't know if I can talk about it, not right now, but maybe not ever. I don't… I'm not…" He makes a frustrated sound and leans back against the couch, running a hand through his hair. "I've never done this before. Having another person around for this. So we're just gonna hafta figure this out as we go."

"So… you want me to distract you," Tim asks hesitantly. Jason snorts softly at the wording, thinking of all the ways Tim could keep his mind off of everything.

"No, not that. It's not that I'm not going to think about what happened or that I don't want to," he admits, "I just… I need someone here to remind me not to get lost in my thoughts, in the memories."

Tim nods along slowly, comprehension dawning on his face.

"So whenever I start to space out…"

"I'll be there," Tim finishes softly. Jason nods with a gentle expression.

"Yeah, you will, and that will be enough to keep me from spiraling."

Tim fiddles with the corner of Jason's blanket, then looks up with a guarded expression. "Then let's dig in and get going on our Voltron rewatch, but... if you ever do want to talk… I, uhh… I'm here to listen..." He swallows, then rapidly adds, "And I'll never, ever judge." His hands twist the blanket nervously, but his eyes are cool, firm and serious as he meets Jason's. "There's nothing to judge, but even if there were, you wouldn't get that from me. I know how strong you are. Not in spite of all the shit you've been through, but because you overcome it, again and again."

Jason flips the blanket out of Tim's hand settles it across their laps, then reaches an arm up and around Tim's shoulders, bringing him in close.

"I 'preciate that, Timbo, and I promise, I'm a pro at using the pause button, so if I get the urge to talk… I'll be sure to use it."

Tim relaxes into his side and cranes his head back to smile up at him. "Cool. Now what's this about a chili you promised me?"

"Only the second best thing to real-life chili dog, that's what," Jason responds blithely, hitting play on the show, and settling in for a long evening with his favorite food, his favorite animated show, and his favorite person.

~*~

Five seasons in and several hours later, Jason shifts uncomfortably. He hadn't lied or said whatever he thought Tim would want to hear back when he admitted that he'd probably be mulling over the unpleasant details of his death and resurrection, even while they were snuggled side-by-side watching TV together, for the rest of the day.

Really, any time the credits roll or his mind drifts away from the plot or they pause the show for a bathroom break, memories creep forward from the back of his mind and haunt him with their echoes. Sometimes the show itself dredges up flashes of the past, each one the bittersweet intersection between the emotional connection to the characters that marks good fiction and the miniature personal crises indicative of post-traumatic stress disorder.

For the last thirty minutes in particular, he's been lost in the feeling of death; not the pain of dying, but rather the darkness and loneliness of going into the void and the panic of waking up again buried alive. The words he needs to say out loud sit bitterly at the back of his throat, choking him. He stares blankly at the television, registering nothing of what's happening on screen, while he wavers over whether to finally vent his feelings or continue on stewing over them internally.

He knows Tim has noticed that he's lost focus and fallen into his head - the smaller man sneaks peeks at him and stiffens instinctively before deliberately relaxing again, all the while rubbing gentle little circles into Jason's thigh, presumably to soothe him - but to his credit, he doesn't stop the stream or say anything. He's giving Jason control over when and whether to discuss what's eating at him, and offering his presence and touch in the meantime to keep Jason from spiraling off.

That means the world to Jason, and in the end, it is the combination of that silent solidarity and the reassurance of knowing Tim well enough to know he really won't judge that makes him comfortable enough to pick up the remote and pause the show. Tim sits up slightly and Jason sucks in a deep breath.

"I can't sleep in the dark," he spits out without preamble, his voice cracking at the end. "Not anymore. When… when I was a kid, with my mo-with Catherine, then on the street, then at the manor, I couldn't sleep unless it was pitch black. But after... I just can't. As soon as I can't see to the walls anymore, they just start to close in and I'm back in that box and I can't…"

He swallows and steels himself against the raw, hollow feeling he gets for admitting this out loud. Tim's hand stops circling and spays across his leg instead, squeezing gently, and that gives him the boost he needs to go on. "I lose it. I have to have something - a table lamp, a nightlight, sometimes just pulling up all the blinds and letting the light from Gotham in, but… I feel like a scared, stupid little kid, afraid of the dark and I hate it."

Jason sighs and closes his eyes. "I can't sleep in rooms with low ceilings, either. Or in rooms with wood paneling, or with wooden ceilings. Basements are the worst. It sounds so stupid, but every time I try I feel like I'm back there, six feet under, death on my tongue, running out of air, pounding against the lid and…" he cuts off shuddering. "I hate that, too. I dream about it sometimes. I've clawed my way out of that coffin, out of death, more times than I've celebrated my birthday and that is just... so sad, and so stupid, and I just feel so... broken. Stupid. Worthless."

The last word comes out as barely a whisper but Tim hears it and scoots in close, turning his body toward Jason, wrapping his arms around him, and mashing his face into his chest. Jason sinks down into the embrace and rests his chin on Tim's head. They stay like that for a time, the stark silence in the apartment ringing paradoxically in his head, suffocating him with the illusion of total stillness, like death itself.

Eventually Jason focuses on breathing in and out until the sound of Tim's breathing jumps out at him again, then the sounds of the city outside reappear, and finally the feeling of Tim around him sinks in again. He feels empty and scraped raw having admitted some of the things that had been banging around his head, but it feels right having let some of it out, having shared it with someone else. It feels good. He feels lighter and stronger, maybe because some of his burden rests on Tim now, like he doesn't have to shoulder it all alone anymore.

Now that it's out, he feels like he can forgive himself for some of it, accept it instead of letting it eat at him like acid in his chest, in his head. If Tim can accept it, can accept him, then why shouldn't he?

After he relaxes again, Tim pulls back and hums softly. Jason glances down at him, distracted by the way the gentle lighting plays in his soft, glossy hair.

"I get that. I can't ever know what it's like, exactly-"

"I hope to God you never do," Jason growls lowly, disturbed at the very thought.

"-but I wouldn't say that… Me personally, I don't think you're stupid or broken or worthless because sleeping in the dark or under a low ceiling - or a wooden one - reminds you too much of being buried alive," Tim explains, voice low and thoughtful. "To me that makes sense. I would be the same way; I think anyone would be. It's fucked up, but no one would call you broken.

"And the dark... well, I get that," Tim finishes in a low voice. Jason frowns. There was something in the way Tim said that last bit that sets off his intuition, urges him to press, just a little.

"How?"

"What?"

"You said 'you get that'? How?" Jason asks, keeping his voice low and soft. Tim hesitates and Jason instantly checks himself.

"You don't have to say, it just sounds like there's a story and… you know, same deal: if you wanna talk, I'm here for you."

Tim nods, a troubled expression crossing his face before he forces it back to neutral stillness. Jason doesn't press. Instead, he presses a soft kiss into Tim's hair and Tim cranes his head back to catch his lips in a gentle kiss. They return to the show in unspoken agreement and several more minutes pass before Tim finally picks up the remote with a sigh and pauses the show himself.

It takes him a minute to speak and when he does, his voice croaks like his throat is closing up around the words. "After my mother died, I couldn't sleep in the dark for years. I just… any time I tried, my mind jumped to her, alone and cold and stiff under thousands of pounds of dirt, not rotting, but slowly desiccating, and then I would be there, feeling it, feeling cold, feeling dead."

Jason could feel himself freezing up in horror, the descriptions triggering his own memories, but he didn't stop him. This was something they needed to share and then maybe overcome together, he thought.

"S-sometimes it wouldn't be my mother," Tim admitted hoarsely. "Sometimes… after I became Robin… after I saw the… your file, the last entry… then it would be you." Jason stopped breathing, his eyes widening. "I didn't know you, but I'd spent so long watching you as Robin, admiring you, building myself up to do your memory justice…" - Tim's voice wavered and Jason sucked in a breath, searched numbly for Tim's hand - "…that I felt like I did. I'd… I would talk to you, talk to your suit, in the case, promising to be better… but sometimes, in the dark, thoughts of you, cold and silent…" Tim cut off and shook his head, unable to go on. Jason rode out a wave of nausea and focused on Tim. He didn't let himself fall into his own head; Tim had gotten him through his shit, he could get Tim through his - they could get each other through all of this.

"What-what about your dad?"

Tim latched onto the question just as Jason hoped he would, pulling himself out of his thoughts to respond. He shook his head.

"When Dad died, it was different. Bruce was there when he die-when Boomerang murdered him," Tim corrected. There was something in his eyes as he spoke, a darkness Jason saw in his own whenever he looked in the mirror and thought about the Joker, but that was something to come back to later.

"It hurt like hell, more than with Mom, but somehow… Bruce took me to the manor, after, and shared my grief, kept me close, then, later, adopted me. He kept me focused, grounded me in what was real and present, I guess," Tim mused, his expression thoughtful. It turned hollow in a way Jason had never seen as he went on.

"But after he died… after Steph, Kon, Bart, Dad, then him… I lost myself, a bit. No one was there to keep me grounded anymore - Dick and the demon brat sure as hell weren't, and Alfred was facing a such great loss of his own… - so, for days after we settled the scuffle for the mantle-"

"After you recovered," Jason amended guiltily, his eyes darting briefly to the center of Tim's chest, imagining the batarang-sized scar he'd put there. Tim's eyes shot up to his and he shook his head, squeezing Jason's hand.

"Yeah, but we're way past that, Jay. Don't beat yourself up for something you did when you were in an unbelievably bad place, something I can't even blame you for now that I understand how bad it really was," Tim chided him sternly. Jason opened his mouth but Tim went on over him.

"Anyway, after Bruce died, I spent weeks wandering the manor as if, I dunno, if I looked hard enough, if I walked through the right door or looked under every bed, he'd be there. It was such a shock, such an impossible thing that he could really be gone, that it just wouldn't sink in. I'd look and look and look, for hours sometimes. When the manor started to feel too small and suffocating, I'd wander around Gotham. Every safehouse, every rooftop, every nook or cranny we'd ever hid in. I couldn't stop moving, stop looking," Tim admitted, his eyes lost and distant.

"It felt like, if I kept moving, maybe eventually, I'd find Bruce or find a way to accept he was gone. It wasn't until Dick… when I lost Robin that I snapped out it. Losing my only remaining purpose was a slap to the face, a wake-up call. I stopped wandering, but I still kept searching. I found a painting amongst the family paintings - it had changed, I swore on it - and that convinced me that Bruce was still out there, somewhere in time, and that the body we'd buried was a copy, or that Bruce had been copied, but one way or another he was still out there. I became obsessed with finding him and lost myself to that instead."

He swallowed and admitted in a quieter voice, "Without anyone or anything to keep me grounded… if I hadn't found Bruce eventually… I don't think I would have come back from that. Not really." He paused then blinked and shook his head with a scoff. "Sorry, I'm making this all about me again and-"

"That was what happened today."

"What?" Tim blinked at him in confusion, but Jason nodded slowly.

"To me. That's where you found me. Sometimes, on the anniversary, it all becomes so much that I feel like I'm going out of my mind, like it can't be real, couldn't have been real, and I have to get away, I can't stay in one place, as if… if I search long enough, move fast enough, that I could outrun the past, find a better reality, find a place I feel like me again," Jason explains. Tim stares at him with wide eyes. "So that 'can't stop, won't stop, suffocating and going out of your mind so keep moving' you described? Well, I get that."

Silence falls again around them as Jason lets it sink in; he looks away and gives Tim a moment to process. Tim eventually leaves the room, and after a minute Jason hears the toilet flush. A few minutes later Tim returns on quiet feet and clears his throat. When Jason looks up, he smiling beatifically down at him, and he raises his eyebrows when Tim climbs into his lap and kisses him unreservedly. Jason hums in surprise against his lips, but kisses back just as thoroughly. Tim pulls away after a moment and looks down at him fondly.

"What?" Jason asks with a touch of amusement. "What is that look for?"

Tim laughs and moves off to one side, plopping down beside him. "Nothing. You're just something else, you know?"

"Me?"

Tim flicks his hand in playfully reproach. "Yes, you."

"Why?"

Tim flicks his hand again, so Jason flips it over and snatches Tim's, lacing their fingers together. "This day was all about you, about your problems, and here you are helping me through mine. Again," Tim explains. He shakes his head minutely against Jason's shoulder. "Honestly, I should be the last thing you're worrying about right now."

"Yeah, sure, I mean it's the day I died and that's important 'n all, but that doesn't mean I get the monopoly on being messed up and needing an ear for the day," Jason replies wryly. Tim sucks in a breath like he's going to argue, but Jason lifts their hands and thumps them emphatically against Tim's knee. "No, I don't deserve that, so don't even try to tell me I do. And besides, like I told you earlier, helping you through your problems kind of helps me get past mine.

"I guess, sometimes, it takes seeing someone else suffering in a similar way to put your own suffering into perspective, to make it possible for you think about it objectively enough to work through it," Jason suggests.

Tim hums in agreement and squeezes their fingers gently. Jason gives them a few beats to sit together in companionable silence, then thumps their hands one last time and moves to sit up.

"Okay, Timbo, I know we said we were going to finish out the entire series tonight, but I feel like it's about time we call it a night."

Tim nods in agreement and yawns as he pulls himself away from Jason's side. He darts away just a second too late to avoid Jason playfully ruffling his hair with one hand, and Jason laughs at the little hiss and glare Tim shoots him. Together they lethargically tidy up the living room, turn off lights, check and recheck security systems, then shuffle off to bed.

~*~

Jason climbs in first, rearranging pillows and kicking around the duvet, while Tim brushes his teeth and makes sure to triple check the security system - they are vigilantes, after all, and with people like Batman and Ra's al Ghul up in their business on a regular basis, it could never hurt to double, triple, then maybe quadruple check.

Tim flips off the last light - mindful to first open the shades to let in the light from the city - then hovers over his phone, briefly glancing over his messages before bed. He squawks in playful indignation when Jason rolls over and hooks an arm around his hips, dragging him onto the bed.

Tim falls into the motion, toppling like a felled tree across Jason's body, and feels a brief moment of satisfaction for the breathless 'oof' he gets before Jason rolls them and tries to crush Tim with his superior bodyweight. They wrestle for less than a minute before their brief surge of playful energy wears off, at which point Tim lets himself collapse at Jason's side and doesn't fight when Jason tugs him in close. He rests his head against Jason's ribs and lets himself drift off to the rise and fall under his cheek.

He's almost completely asleep when the rumble of Jason's voice brings him back.

"Tim?"

"Mmmm?"

"That thing…that you said about Bruce…"

"Mmmhmm?"

"About losing your father and then Bruce being there, being around, giving you something to center yourself around, someone to keep you grounded…"

Tim perks up his head and blinks into the dim light, focusing. "Yeah?"

"That's what I need. For days like today. For… always. Someone to be there. Maybe not to talk about it or to help me forget, but just… to keep me here. Present. Centered. I just need you to be here for me, nothing special, just like you always are."

Tim hums morosely and shakes his head. "I almost wasn't today."

Jason scoffs softly and Tim squints at him in the dark, trying to make out his expression. "Yeah, you almost didn't make it back to Gotham today, and, yeah, I guess it helped to have you here, in-person, where I could see and touch you, but even if you hadn't made it back, even if you'd just picked up the phone, made a video call, or done something just to let me…ugh," he sighs and scrubs a hand through his hair. "Long story short, let's just say that even if you can't always be right here beside me, I'll never doubt that you'd move heaven and earth to be here for me," he explains, a touch of amusement coloring the undeniable tones of affection and appreciation in his voice. "Not unless… You're not planning on leaving me, are you, Timbo?"

Tim snorts softly and lets his head drop down again. He wraps his free arm around Jason's waist and squeezes gently, feeling Jason's breath hitch slightly before whooshing out in a long, easy sigh.

"No," Tim replies, smiling softly, "I'll be here."

#my writing #christmasriverswrites #chibinightowl #jaytim #angst #hurt/comfort #hurts.so.good #angst and fluff #tw panic attacks #tw ptsd #tw discussion of death #this has been written for a while but it took me sooooooooooo long to edit #the horrible awful long semester I had certainly didn't help #chibinightowl is the sweetest person for being supportive throughout the whole thing ❤#this was marathon edited and only a single pass so forgive the rough prose

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blackkudos · 6 years ago

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Millie Jackson

Mildred Virginia (Millie) Jackson (born July 15, 1944) is an American singer-songwriter. Six of her albums have been certified gold by the RIAA for over 500,000 copies.

Her vocal performances are often distinguished by long, humorous, and explicit spoken sections in her music, which she started doing on stage to get the attention of the audience. She has also recorded songs in a disco or dance music style and even some country styled songs. She is the mother of Keisha Jackson.

Early life

Born in Thomson, Georgia, Jackson is the daughter of a sharecropper. Her mother died when she was a child and subsequently, she and her father moved to Newark, New Jersey. By the time Jackson was in her mid-teens, she had moved to Brooklyn to live with an aunt. She occasionally worked as a model for magazines like JIVE and Sepia.

Career

Jackson's singing career reportedly began on a dare to enter a 1964 talent contest at Harlem nightclub Smalls Paradise, which she won. Although she first recorded for MGM Records in 1970, she soon left and began a long association with New York-based Spring Records. Working with the label's in-house producer, Raeford Gerald, her first single to chart was 1971's deceptively titled "A Child of God (It's Hard to Believe)," which reached number 22 on the R&B charts. In 1972, Jackson had her first R&B Top Ten single with the follow-up, "Ask Me What You Want", which also reached the pop Top 30, then "My Man, A Sweet Man" reached #7 R&B; all three hits were co-written by Jackson. "My Man, A Sweet Man" retains its popularity today for northern soul enthusiasts and is played on the radio in the UK and quoted as an example from this musical genre as is her 1976 recording, "A House for Sale". The following year brought her biggest single success and her third Top Ten hit, "It Hurts So Good," which made #3 on the R&B charts and #24 on the Billboard Hot 100 pop chart. The single was featured on the album of the same name and in the blaxploitation film Cleopatra Jones, also appearing on that film's soundtrack along with the song "Love Doctor".

In 1974, she released the album Caught Up, which introduced her innovative style of raunchy rap. The featured release was her version of Luther Ingram's million-seller, "(If Loving You Is Wrong) I Don't Want to Be Right", for which she received two Grammy nominations. By now, she had switched producers to work only with Brad Shapiro, recording at Muscle Shoals Studio in Alabama with the renowned Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section. She continued to record most of her material for Spring there, including the follow-up album, Still Caught Up.

Over the next ten years, Jackson had a string of successful albums and numerous R&B chart entries, the biggest being her 1977 version of Merle Haggard's country hit "If You're Not Back In Love By Monday". That hit single was followed by many more, including her version of the Boney M. song, the disco single, "Never Change Lovers In The Middle of The Night." This single peaked at #33 on the Black Singles chart in 1979.

Jackson recorded an album in 1979 with Isaac Hayes called "Royal Rappin's" and the same year saw her release a double album, "Live And Uncensored", recorded in concert at Los Angeles venue, The Roxy. Jackson also formed and produced the group Facts of Life. They had a major hit in 1976 with "Sometimes" (#3 R&B, #31 Pop).

Jackson found herself without a label when Spring closed down in 1984, but in 1986, she signed with Jive Records in a deal that produced four albums and resulted in further R&B Top Ten hits with "Hot! Wild! Unrestricted! Crazy Love" and "Love Is a Dangerous Game". She appeared on an Elton John track in 1985, "Act Of War", which was a Top 40 hit in the UK, but failed to chart in the USA. In 1991, she wrote, produced and starred in the successful touring play Young Man, Older Woman, based on her album of the same title for Jive.

On November 24, 1994, Jackson appeared in the Thanksgiving episode Feast or Famine of Martin as Florine.

In 2000, her voice featured in "Am I Wrong" by Etienne de Crécy, sampled from her performance in "(If Loving You Is Wrong) I Don't Want to Be Right".

Jackson may be most famous in the internet age for her album covers, which frequently appear on "worst ever" lists. E.S.P. (Extra Sexual Persuasion) features Jackson peering into a crystal ball that accentuates her cleavage; Back to the S t! depicts Jackson sitting on a toilet.

Jackson now runs her own record label, Weird Wreckuds. After a lengthy hiatus from recording, she released her 2001 album, Not For Church Folk, which marked a return to her "tell-it-like-it-is" lyrical style with an Urban contemporary sound. The album features the singles "Butt-A-Cize" (a dance song) and "Leave Me Alone" (a ballad). The album also features a collaboration with rapper Da Brat on the song "In My Life."

Jackson had her own radio show in Dallas, Texas for 13 years. Broadcasting via remote from her home in Atlanta, Jackson worked in afternoon drive-time from 3-6 pm on KKDA 730 AM, until January 6, 2012.

In 2006, five of Jackson's best-selling albums – Millie Jackson (1972), It Hurts So Good (1973), Caught Up (1974), Still Caught Up(1975), and Feelin' Bitchy (1977) – were digitally remastered and released on CD with bonus tracks. All of Jackson's Spring Records-era albums are available from Ace Records in the UK.

An Imitation of Love was re-issued on CD in 2013 by the Funkytowngrooves label in a remastered, expanded edition. Other albums released on the Jive and Ichiban labels remain out of print, though some of those songs appear on compilation CDs.

On February 6, 2012, the documentary, Unsung - The Story of Mildred 'Millie' Jackson aired on the TV One network.

Jackson performed at Washington, D.C.'s historic Howard Theatre on August 3, 2012, and at B.B. King's Blues Club in New York on August 4, 2012. On June 6, 2015 Jackson was inducted into the Official Rhythm & Blues Music Hall of Fame in Clarksdale, MS.

Personal life

She has two children: Keisha Jackson, born in the 1960s before she was married, and son Jerroll born in the late 1970s. She is not related to the Jackson family of singers and musicians from Gary, Indiana.

Discography

AlbumsSingles

"A Little Bit of Something"

"A Child of God (It's Hard to Believe)" (US: #102)

"Ask Me What You Want" (US: #27)

"My Man, A Sweet Man" (US: #42), (US R&B: #7) (UK: #50)

"Breakaway" (US: #110)

"It Hurts So Good" (US: #24), (US R&B: #3)

"I Miss You Baby"

"How Do You Feel the Morning After" (US: #77)

"I'm Through Trying To Prove My Love To You"

"I Got to Try It One Time"

"(If Loving You Is Wrong) I Don't Want to Be Right" (US: #42)

"Leftovers" (US: #87)

"Loving Arms"

"The Rap"

"A House for Sale"

"Bad Risk"

"Feel Like Making Love"

"There You Are"

"I Can't Say Goodbye"

"If You're Not Back in Love By Monday" (US: #43)

"A Love of Your Own"

"All The Way Lover" (US: #102)

"Sweet Music Man" (US R&B #33)

"Keep The Home Fire Burnin'" (US R&B #83)

"Never Change Lovers In The Middle of The Night" (US R&B: #33)

"We Got To Hit It Off" (US R&B #56)

"A Moment's Pleasure" (US R&B #70)

"Kiss You All Over"

"Despair"

"Do You Wanna Make Love" feat. Isaac Hayes (US R&B #30)

"This Is It (Part I) (US R&B #88)

"You Never Cross My Mind"

"I Can't Stop Loving You" (US R&B #62)

"Anybody That Don't Like Millie Jackson"

"I Had to Say It"

"It's Gonna Take Some Time This Time"

"Special Occasion" (US R&B #51)

"Passion"

"E.S.P."

"I Feel Like Walkin' In The Rain" (UK: #55)

"Sister in the System"

"Hot! Wild! Unrestricted! Crazy Love" (US R&B #9) (UK: #99)

"Act of War" feat. Elton John (UK: #32)

"It's A Thang" (US R&B #79)

"Love Is A Dangerous Game" (US R&B #6) (UK: #81)

"An Imitation of Love" (US R&B #58)

"Something You Can Feel" (US R&B #45)

"You Knocked the Love (Right Outta My Heart)"

"Will You Love Me Tomorrow"

"Young Man, Older Woman"

"Living With A Stranger"

"Taking My Life Back"

"Love Quake"

"Check in the Mail"

"Chocolate Brown Eyes"

"Breaking Up Somebody's Home"

"The Lies That We Live"

"Did You Think I Wouldn't Cry"

"Butt-A-Cize"

"Leave Me Alone"

"Black Bitch Crazy"

Wikipedia

#Millie Jackson #07-15

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junker-town · 5 years ago

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Sarah Thomas is an American badass

ullstein bild Dtl. / Contributor

Nobody had ever swum four straight crossings of the English Channel. Until now.

Sarah Thomas, a 37-year-old ultramarathon swimmer and breast cancer survivor from Colorado, made history as the first person to swim the English Channel four times without stopping. Per a report in Outdoor Swimmer, Thomas competed the first three legs in around 37 hours, which is blazing fast by the admittedly absurd standards of marathon swimming.

Her final lap took more than 17 hours as she fought off fatigue and heavy currents. Officially, the distance to cross the channel four times is about 84 miles. Given the current and tides, Outdoor Swimmer estimated that she traveled more than 130 miles over 54 hours and 10 minutes.

With its cold, choppy water and notoriously variable conditions, crossing the English Channel is often compared to climbing Mount Everest for open-water swimming. A successful crossing must meet several conditions per the Channel Swimming Association.

Among them, swimmers may only wear a cap, goggles, and a “standard swimming costume” that is armless and legless with no thermal protection. Food and hydration may only be provided from the support boat with no direct contact. In other words, from a cup or a bottle mounted on a pole.

Thomas has had her eye on this feat for more than two years. In August 2017 she set a record with an unassisted 104.6 mile swim across Lake Champlain that took over 67 hours. In an ESPNW profile, Thomas said she had a mantra that she used whenever she was tiring: “Do my arms hurt? No. Am I sick? No. So what’s your excuse for quitting? Nothing.”

Considering herself at the peak of her athletic powers, Thomas then set her sights on becoming the first person to complete the four-way English Channel crossing. Three months later she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Thomas underwent a grueling treatment plan that included chemotherapy, surgery, and radiation. With her channel attempt already booked, she swam whenever possible and used that as motivation.

“It was really important to have a goal and dreams that existed beyond cancer,” she says in a trailer for the documentary The Other Side. “So that cancer didn’t define me.”

In February of this year, just seven months after finishing active treatment, Thomas completed a crossing of Cook Strait in New Zealand. It was a brutal swim that tested her fitness and resolve.

As she told Outdoor Swimmer, she had “demons to conquer.” The cancer made her slower and she questioned whether she still had the drive to recover her mental edge. She followed that up with a strong 32-mile swim across Blue Mesa in Colorado that gave her renewed confidence.

On the day before her four-way Channel attempt, Thomas wrote on her Facebook page:

Yes, I’m scared. The Channel can do a lot of crazy things and for this to happen, we’re going to need some luck. But, hopefully between the preparation I’ve done and the experience of my crew and boat captain, we can get this done together. Everything has to go right when so much can go wrong. We promise to be safe, but I also promise to give it everything I can. I’ve been waiting for this swim for over 2 years now and have fought so hard to get here. Am I 100%? No. But I’m the best that I can be right now, with what I’ve been through, with more fire and fight than ever.

The first successful English Channel swim crossing was completed by Matthew Webb in 1875. It would be 59 years before Edward Temme did it twice back-to-back in 1934 and it wasn’t until 1981 before anyone managed three consecutive crossings. Now Sarah Thomas, who dedicated her effort to cancer survivors worldwide, is the only person to do it four times. She is an American hero.

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jiminelli · 8 years ago

Text

You Don’t Know Me

Request: I can't really think about an actual story plot but maybe yoongi getting you pregnant and he chickens out... Aw This is such a bad description but since you're an amazing writer ypu can pull it off better ☺💖 thank you!

Pairing: Yoongi + Reader

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1.841

Warnings: swearing

A/N: you’re so sweet omg and of course it’s a good description! I hope I made it similar to the way you wanted it to be

Part 2 | Part 3

Kneeling on the cold bathroom floor, your bare legs had goosebumps spread all over your skin, acknowledging the icy tiles. Hair hold back by one of your hands while the other one stabilized your weak body, your forehead collapsed against the toilet stool. Hasty breaths left your slightly open mouth while cold sweat pearled down your face and back.

What is happening to me?

You took a deep breath before sitting up straight enough to not feel like an old grandmother having back problems. Grabbing some pieces of toilet paper, you wiped over your mouth before throwing it into the toilet and flushing it down to God knows where.

Closing the toilet seat, you slowly stood up, turning your body towards the sink, opening the faucet. For a few seconds you let the water run so it could turn completely cold before holding both of your hands underneath it, splashing the icy water into your face. Reflexively, your lungs screamed for air as the cold water hit your face but you just ignored it.

It’s just cold water, calm down.

Grabbing your toothbrush, you brushed your teeth quickly, examining yourself in the mirror in front of you above the sink. Your eyes were encircled by dark bags, skin as pale as if all your blood had been drawn out of your veins, only leaving your dead skin. Your hair had lost its healthy shine and just hung there loosely, like overcooked spaghetti noodles.

Sighing deeply, you finished cleaning up and walked back into your bedroom, grabbing for your phone. You had to check the calendar before making any overly fast assumptions about your symptoms.

Opening the calendar app, you scrolled back to the last month.

Date of last menstruation: February 16th

Current date: April 17th

Two months since your last period. Two months since mother nature forgot to swing by and make your life miserable for a while. Oh how you wished, Satan had nested in your uterus in those last two months instead of sitting there in that exact moment, wondering how the hell you got into this situation.

“Two fucking months....”, you mumbled to yourself. “I need to get a test.”

With those words being said, you grabbed your keys and coat, storming out of your tiny apartment, down the street to the pharmacy. Strangers pushed their bodies into yours while trying to pass by but you didn’t notice. All you could think of was if you were ready to get some answers. You needed to know why you were feeling so miserable since weeks but at the same time you were scared. Scared that your assumptions would be true and you’d have to tell Yoongi. Scared that he’d flip and leave you alone. So many things could happen and you weren’t ready to figure out what else could ruin your life. But you had to.

Pushing the door open, the smell of disinfectant hit your nose, making you scrunch it in disgust. You never liked the smell of disinfectant. It reminded you of hospitals and that again reminded you of death. Not the nicest connection one could think of. That’s why you tried to stay away from that smell.

Walking up to the pharmacist who looked like she was about to fall asleep any second, you silently prayed that she wouldn’t ask any further questions like aren’t you a little too young to ask for a pregnancy test? where’s the father? do you know who the father is? you should have been more careful, young lady. You really didn’t need that crap right now.

“Excuse me”, you politely asked the woman. “C-can I have one of those pregnancy tests?”, you signaled at the white sticks in simple boxes behind the lady as she turned around to see where you were pointing at. They were the cheapest ones you could see and the only ones you could afford as a college student.

The pharmacist smiled at you and leaned a little closer to you. “Of course, but I wouldn’t recommend those - they’re usually wrong or don’t work at all.”

Then why are you selling them at all? “Oh.. well I guess it’ll have to do, those are the only ones I can afford right now”, you faked a laugh as she handed you the test and you gave her the money. Her expression was pitiful but not judging. More like a mother feeling sad for a child.

“Is there a bathroom around here? I don’t think I can wait until I’m back home”, you mumbled and the lady showed you the way to go.

After finishing your business, you waited in the cabin for the 10 minutes you were supposed to wait, anxiously biting down on your lip.

What if it’s positive? What am I supposed to do? I can’t take care of a baby yet. I can barely take care of myself!

As the 10 minutes went by, you decided that you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t look down at the result by yourself. You needed someone to do it for you. So you walked out of the bathroom back to the pharmacist, who was looking at you questioningly.

“Would you mind- would you mind, telling me what is says?”, you asked hesitantly. “I can’t bring it over myself to do it.”

She smiled at you and nodded. “Sure, turn it around sweetheart, so I can see the bars.”

You turned the stick to her and bit down on your lip hard. Your heart rate increased and nervous sweat started to spread out all over your body.

The lady took a look and then she seemed to struggle with a fitting facial expression. “I don’t know if you’re going to be happy about this news or not, but it’s positive”, she decided to smile at you warmly as your stomach dropped.

“Positive?”, you whispered, looking down on it yourself. There it was. A pink cross. Or plus. Or whatever you want to call it.

“I- it can’t-”, you stuttered as your eyes filled with tears. You didn’t even care to wipe them away at that point.

“Oh no dear, don’t cry”, the pharmacist said. She turned around and grabbed another package, a fancier looking one and discreetly slid it over the table. “Shh don’t tell anyone but here - take this one. These are right about 89% of the time unlike the one you just took. Take it with you and do the test when you’ve calmed down, okay?”

You looked up at her and shook your head under tears. “B-but I can’t afford that one.”

The lady smiled at you again and pushed it closer to you. “It’s fine. It’s on the house”, she winked and giggled, making you smile at her thankfully.

“Now go, rest and take the test”, you nodded at her words, mouthed a quick ‘thank you’ under tears before rushing back to your apartment.

Maybe you still had a chance.

“What do you mean ‘you’re pregnant’? We always used protection (Y/N)!”, Yoongi screamed in disbelief, brushing his hands through his hair in frustration. “You can’t be pregnant. It’s impossible.”

You rolled your eyes at him and laughed bitterly. “As long as your not sterile and I’m not infertile, I can always get pregnant Yoongi. Condoms can rip and the pill doesn’t work 100%.”

“Fuck!”, he yelled, throwing his phone against the sofa, making you flinch. You had expected him to react pissed or at least not really excited but you never thought, he’d flip like he did.

“Yoongi...”, you approached him, trying to calm him down, needing him to be calm in order for you to be calm yourself and not have a complete breakdown.

“Don’t touch me (Y/N)”, he growled.

“But-”, you tried but he interrupted you.

“No ‘buts’! This ruins everything, you realize that right? Everything I worked for so hard these last couple of years. Everything I ever wanted, all ruined because of this fucking mistake”, his voice was as cold as ice as his eyes stared at you, burning not only your body to pieces but your soul as well.

“Yoongi, yes it’s very inconvenient, you can call it a mistake even. But we’re in this together, we can’t change it. But we can go through this together”, you whispered through tears, trying to approach him again. You needed his support more than ever but all he seemed to do was to push you further away.

“It’s not only this pregnancy that is a mistake. This whole relationship was a mistake. I should have never started dating you, then it would have never gotten this far. I would have stayed focused on my work and only my work, not even having the slightest possibility for this to happen. Now what? The fans don’t even know about you! But all of sudden I have a girlfriend and a baby? They’d force me to marry you because we live in fucking Korea and you don’t just get kids without being married yet. My whole life would be ruined!”, by now he was screaming, fuming, running around the house uncontrollably, grabbing things here and there and hastily throwing them into a bag he had grabbed.

His words hit you worse than any weapon could as the meaning behind it sunk in. He thought you were the mistake. You were ruining everything. Everything that was important to him. He hated you in that moment, you felt it.

You sunk to the floor, sobs escaping your lips as tears streamed down your face and your lungs were searching for air. Hysterical sobs left your mouth as your hands covered your face and your body curled up into a tiny frame.

“Yoongi please!”, you screamed out, lifting your head for a second, only hearing him going through your wardrobe in your bedroom. “I can’t do this without you! I’m a broke college student, I’m alone here, I don’t have anybody else but you!”

His figure appeared back in the door frame to the living room, a packed bag slung over his shoulder. “You should have thought about that before starting a relationship with me.”

Hastily you stood up as his body walked past you, towards your front door. Your fingers enclosed his arm, pulling on it, so he would stop. When he did and turned around, you saw the hurt and guilt in his eyes for a second before his gaze turned back to ice. You knew he cared. He cared but he was also impulsive and his impulse told him that his career was more important.

“Yoongi, you don’t want that. You love me. You can’t just leave me like this, you’re more than this awful egoistic asshole”, you brokingly sobbed, still holding onto his arm, eyes begging him to stay.

He shook his head, ripping his arm free from your grip. “I guess you don’t know me that well after all then.”

With that, he pushed you off him, slamming the door shut without giving you one last glance, as you glanced after his figure in disbelief, a deadly pain spreading across your chest and stomach, making you gasp for air as more tears covered your face, leaving physical marks of the pain your were feeling.

©jiminelli

#bangtan boys #bts #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #bts texts #bts smut #min yoongi #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi scenario #min yoongi angst #you don't know me

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mintyyprince · 7 years ago

Note

1-100

hey i love u

is there a boy/girl in your life? yeah i know a bunch of guys gals and nonbinary palsthink of the last person who hurt you; do you forgive them? fuck nowhat do you think of when you hear the word “meow?” thiswhats something you really want right now? something sweet tbh ive been wanting to make macaroons for two weeks but i keep forgetting to get ingredients at the storeare you afraid of falling in love? kindado you like the beach? i like sitting on the beach and reading, playing with the sand, and laying in floaties in the water, but i am terrified of both crabs and not seeing whats underwater. its not funhave you ever slept on a couch with someone else? to nap yeawhats the background on your cell? this tho i want to make a katsuki aes name the last four beds you were sat on? i.. was sat on?? thats very different from sat ondo you like your phone? yeahonestly, are things going the way you planned? not at allwho was the last person whose phone number you added to your contacts? i dont call or text much dudewould you rather have a poodle or a rottweiler? BOTH i love all dogswhich hurts the most, physical or emotional pain? ??? there is no more painful, just painfulwould you rather visit a zoo or an art museum? i was about to say art museum but then i remembered ib and i got spooked. still saying art museum.are you tired? alwayshow long have you known your first phone contact? awhileare they a relative? probablywould you ever consider getting back together with any of your exes? no theyre exes for a reasonwhen did you last talk to the last person you shared a kiss with? uhhh when he lied about moving to another country to avoid me :^)if you knew you had the right person, would you marry them today? id platonically marry a handful of friends if i could. blows a kiss their waywould you kiss the last person you kissed again? if all the times i platonically say “smooches” to then absolutelyhow many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now? four if u include my watchis there a certain quote you live by? sorta?? and if theres anything im really feeling i just make it my dicord statuswhats on your mind? deathdo you have any tattoos? i wishwhat is your favorite color? blue!!next time you will kiss someone on the lips? nghwho are you texting? no one i dont want to talk rnthink to the last person you kissed, have you ever kissed them on a couch? ,,,yea?? these last person u kissed questions are cursedhave you ever had the feeling something bad was going to happen and you were right? some call it intuition i call it anxietydo you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to? yeado you think anyone has feelings for you? nO i assume everyone hates me or eventually will and it feels conceited to think otherwisehas anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes? yes theyre a cool greysay the last person you kissed was kissing someone right in front of you? stare at him all judgmentally and turn away he means Nothing to mewere you single on valentines day? this past february yeah and im in no rush to change thatare you friends with the last person you kissed? fuck nowhat do your friends call you? my name... i have kin nicknames but not much other than that tbhhas anyone upset you in the last week? oh definitelyhave you ever cried over a text? who hasntwheres your last bruise located? anklewhat is it from? bumped into the staircase bc i was fawning over my dog..last time you wanted to be away from somewhere really bad? nowwho was the last person you were on the phone with? i cant remember whether it was hajime or kokodo you have a favorite pair of shoes? yeah my combat boots!! do you wear hats if your having a bad hair day? yes and i love them would you ever go bald if it was the style? no.do you make supper for your family? i barely make myself breakfast or lunch do u really want to trust me with thisdoes your bedroom have a door? yes and im so sorry to anyone who said no u deserve bettertop three web-pages? apparently my most visited sites are tumblr pixiv and the site for my schooldo you know anyone who hates shopping? my brotherdoes anything on your body hurt? chest and head // phantom aches in legs and neckare goodbyes hard for you? unless im rly attached to the person nowhat was the last beverage you spilled on yourself? its been awhile i cant rememberhow is your hair? its good, how are you??what do you usually do first in the morning? check my phone and scroll until i fully wake updo you think two people can last forever? with enough trust and communication surethink back to January 2007, were you single? i was seven so yeahgreen or purple grapes? purple and i will stand by thiswhens the next time you will give someone a BIG hug? if i could see my friends in person then id give them the biggest hug uve ever seendo you wish you were somewhere else right now? yeahwhen will be the next time you text someone? im wondering the same thing my dudewhere will you be five hours from now? probably outside walking my dogwhat were you doing at eight this morning? sleepingthis time last year, can you remember who you liked? this guy juan.. he was a dickis there one person in your life that can always make you smile? yeah!! all my friends!!did you kiss or hug anyone today? unless all the times i say “smooches” count then no and id rather keep it that waywhat was your last thought before you went to bed last night? i was super suicidal so have you ever tried your hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end? try every dayhow many windows are open on your computer? sweats loudlyhow many fingers do you have? t..ten?what is your ringtone? im so sorryhow old will you be in five months? eighteen!!where is your mom right now? floridawhy arent you with the person you were first in love with or almost in love? he was a dickhave you held hands with somebody in the past three days? no and id rather keep it that way. hand holding is so awkward for meare you friends with the people you were friends with two years ago? some yeah!! do you remember who you had a crush on in year seven? oh boy my stand partner in orchestra.. he was also a dickis there anyone you know with the name mike? YEAH i love mikehave you ever fallen asleep in someones arms? yeah it was nicehow many people have you liked in the past three months? none romanticallyhas anyone seen you in your underwear in the last 3 days? n..nowill you talk to the person you like tonight? maybeyoure drunk and yelling at hot guys/girls out of your car window, you’re with? satan apparently this goes against every last one of my moralsif your BF/GF was into drugs would you care? id be concerned yeahwhat was the most eventful thing that happened last time you went to see a movie? my grandma took a huge bite of wasabi tearily then said she didnt like “the green stuff”who was your last received call from? an unknown numberif someone gave you a thousand dollars to burn a butterfly over a candle, would you? id probably agree bc its a thousand dollars man but cry and look away the whole timewhat is something you wish you had more of? confidence.. money... love..... i could go on i feel very unfulfilled rnhave you ever trusted someone too much? i trust people far too easily so yeahdo you sleep with your window open? nEVER dont let the bugs indo you get along with girls? i love girlsare you keeping a secret from someone who needs to know the truth? id hope notdoes sex mean love? hell noyoure locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem? hed be in quite a picklehave you ever kissed anyone with a lip ring? nodid you sleep alone this week? yeaheverybody has somebody that makes them happy, do you? i have a few things i cling to but in general not reallydo you believe in love at first sight? i believe u can be attracted to someone at first sight but love is accepting and caring for a person after seeing every side of them, so imo u cant love a strangerwho was the last person that you pinky promise? if u mean a literal pinky promise i have no clue but probably my sister

#too tired to tag stuff but theres mentions of unsavory stuff :^)#ask game #bvki #ask

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windybunny · 7 years ago

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When Tesla bought a decommissioned car factory in Fremont, California, Elon Musk transformed the old-fashioned, unionized plant into a much-vaunted "factory of the future", where giant robots named after X-Men shape and fold sheets of metal inside a gleaming white mecca of advanced manufacturing.

The appetite for Musk's electric cars, and his promise to disrupt the carbon-reliant automobile industry, has helped Tesla’s value exceed that of both Ford and, briefly, General Motors (GM). But some of the human workers who share the factory with their robotic counterparts complain of grueling work pressure they attribute to Musk’s aggressive production goals, and sometimes life-changing injuries.

Ambulances have been called more than 100 times since 2014 for workers experiencing fainting spells, dizziness, seizures, abnormal breathing and chest pains, according to incident reports obtained by the Guardian. Hundreds more were called for injuries and other medical issues.

In a phone interview about the conditions at the factory, which employs some 10,000 workers, the Tesla CEO conceded his workers had been "having a hard time, working long hours, and on hard jobs", but said he cared deeply about their health and wellbeing. His company says its factory safety record has significantly improved over the last year.

Musk also said that Tesla should not be compared to major US carmakers and that its market capitalization, now more than $50bn, is unwarranted. "I do believe this market cap is higher than we have any right to deserve," he said, pointing out his company produces just 1% of GM’s total output.

"We’re a money losing company," Musk added. "This is not some situation where, for example, we are just greedy capitalists who decided to skimp on safety in order to have more profits and dividends and that kind of thing. It’s just a question of how much money we lose. And how do we survive? How do we not die and have everyone lose their jobs?"

Musk’s account of the company’s approach differs from that of the 15 current and former factory workers who told the Guardian of a culture which they described as requiring working long hours under intense pressure, sometimes through pain and injury, in order to fulfill the CEO’s ambitious production goals.

"I’ve seen people pass out, hit the floor like a pancake and smash their face open," said Jonathan Galescu, a production technician at Tesla. "They just send us to work around him while he’s still laying on the floor."

He was one of several workers who said they had seen co-workers collapse or be taken away in ambulances. "We had an associate on my line, he just kept working, kept working, kept working, next thing you know — he just fell on the ground," said Mikey Catura, a worker on the battery pack line.

Richard Ortiz, another production worker, spoke admiringly of the high-tech shop floor. "It’s like you died and went to auto-worker heaven." But he added: "Everything feels like the future but us."

Tesla sits at the juncture between a tech startup, untethered from the rules of the old economy, and a manufacturer that needs to produce physical goods. Nowhere is that contradiction more apparent than at the Tesla factory, where Musk's bombastic projection that his company will make 500,000 cars in 2018 (a 495% increase from 2016) relies as much on the sweat and muscle of thousands of human workers as it does on futuristic robots.

"From what I’ve gathered, Elon Musk started Tesla kind of like an app startup and didn’t realize that it isn’t just nerds at a computer desk typing," said one production worker, one of several who asked not to be identified by name. "You really start losing the startup feel when you have thousands of people doing physical labor."

In February, Tesla worker Jose Moran published a blog post that detailed allegations of mandatory overtime, high rates of injury and low wages at the factory, and revealed that workers were seeking to unionize with the United Auto Workers.

Moran's post shone a spotlight on a workforce that is almost entirely absent from Tesla's official images of the factory.

Michael Sanchez once had two dreams: to be an artist and a car service technician. He said he was “ecstatic” when he was recruited five years ago to work at Tesla, a company he believed was "part of the future."

Now Sanchez has two herniated discs in his neck, is on disability leave from work, and can no longer grip a pencil without pain.

Tesla said that the employee’s injury occurred while he was installing a wheel, but Sanchez said it was caused by the years he spent working on Tesla's assembly line. The cars he worked on were suspended above the line, and his job required looking up and working with his hands above his head all day.

"You can make it through Monday," Sanchez said. "You can make it through Tuesday. Come Wednesday you start to feel something. Thursday is pain. Friday is agonizing. Saturday you’re just making it through the day."

Tesla's manufacturing practices appear to have been most dangerous in its earliest years of operations. The company does not dispute that its recordable incident rate (TRIR), an official measure of injuries and illnesses that is reported to workplace safety regulators, was above the industry average between 2013 and 2016.

Tesla declined to release data over those four years, saying such information "doesn’t reflect how the factory operates today."

The company did release more recent data, which indicates its record of safety incidents went from slightly above the industry average in late 2016, to a performance in the first few months of 2017 that was 32% better than average. The company said that its decision to add a third shift, introduce a dedicated team of ergonomics experts, and improvements to the factory’s "safety teams" account for the significant reduction in incidents since last year.

Musk said safety was paramount at the company. "It’s incredibly hurtful and I think false for anyone to claim that I don’t care." The CEO said his desk was "in the worst place in the factory, the most painful place", in keeping with his management philosophy. "It’s not some comfortable corner office."

In early 2016, he said, he slept on the factory floor in a sleeping bag "to make it the most painful thing possible." "I knew people were having a hard time, working long hours, and on hard jobs. I wanted to work harder than they did, to put even more hours in," he said. "Because that's what I think a manager should do."

He added: "We're doing this because we believe in a sustainable energy future, trying to accelerate the advent of clean transport and clean energy production, not because we think this is a way to get rich."

Tesla workers who spoke to the Guardian echoed this sense of pride and enthusiasm for the company's mission. "We’re changing the world," enthused Ortiz. "I can't wait for my granddaughter to one day go to class and say, 'My grandfather was in there.'"

But that pride did not erase what Ortiz described as a prevailing mood of "mass disappointment" over working conditions and what he alleged were avoidable work-related injuries.

He recently lost the strength in his right arm, a situation he said was "scaring" him. "I want to use my arm when I’m retired," he added.

Others described repetitive stress injuries they linked to working long hours. Before the company reduced the average time of a workday in October 2016, workers said they routinely worked 12-hour shifts, six days a week. Tesla said the change had been "a success", and resulted in a 50% decline in overtime hours.

Sanchez and other workers said they believed more injuries occurred because, for years, the company did not take worker safety seriously, with some managers belittling their complaints and pressuring them to work through pain.

When workers told managers about pain, Sanchez said they responded: "We all hurt. You can’t man up?" Alan Ochoa, another Tesla worker who is currently on a medical leave with an injury, alleged that superiors "put the production numbers ahead of the safety and wellbeing of the employees."

The company said that Ochoa and Sanchez are especially outspoken workers whose views do not represent the wider workforce. However, the Tesla spokesperson added: "In a factory of more than 10,000 employees, there will always be isolated incidents that we would like to avoid."

Complaints about working conditions at Tesla are not universal. "I’ve got benefits, I’ve got stocks, I’ve got [paid time off]," said a worker who has been at the company for about a year. "I thoroughly enjoy my work and I feel I’m treated fairly."

Another worker, a temporary employee, said that he sees some teams in the factory doing group stretches in the morning to prevent injuries.

However, some Tesla workers argue the company’s treatment of injured workers discourages them from reporting their injuries. If workers are assigned to "light duty" work because of an injury, they are paid a lower wage as well as supplemental benefits from workers' compensation insurance, a practice that Tesla said was in line with other employers and California law.

"I went from making $22 an hour to $10 an hour," said a production worker, who injured his back twice while working at Tesla. "It kind of forces people to go back to work."

"No one wants to get a pay cut because they’re injured, so everyone just forces themselves to work through it," added Adam Suarez, who has worked at the factory for about three years.

Tesla said it was determined to further improve its safety standards. "While some amount of injuries is inevitable, our goal at Tesla is to have as close to zero injuries as possible and to become the safest factory in the auto industry worldwide," the spokesperson said.

Musk has a well-documented tendency to promise Mars and deliver the moon. His electric car company was, by his own admission, a gamble. Musk said starting a car manufacturer from scratch was likely "the worst way to earn money, honestly", though he caveated that "maybe rockets are a bit worse". "On a risk adjusted return basis, an auto company has to be the dumbest thing you could possibly start."

The company has succeeded at increasing its production rate every quarter. In the first three months of 2017, the factory produced more than 25,000 cars – a Tesla record. To meet Musk's goal for 2018, they will have to quintuple that rate.

"I think one of the major problems is that people at the top are making unrealistic quarterly goals," said a worker on the battery pack line.

Three workers described a management tactic of assigning a monetary value to every delay on the assembly line. "One time the robot came down and [the supervisor] came back screaming at us, 'That’s $18,000, $20,0000, $30,0000, $50,000 because you guys can't get this done,'" Gelascu recalled.

Tesla argues the challenge in building vehicles from scratch with new production and manufacturing methods should not be underestimated, but that "nothing is more important" than protecting the health and safety of its workers.

"We’re trying to do good for the world and we believe in doing the right thing," Musk said. "And that extends to caring about the health and safety of everyone at the company."

It’s a more humanistic tone than the one he strikes with investors. "You really can't have people in the production line itself. Otherwise you’ll automatically drop to people speed," he told investors in an earnings call last year. "There's still a lot of people at the factory, but what they're doing is maintaining the machines, upgrading them, dealing with anomalies. But in the production process itself there essentially would be no people."

#tesla #elon musk #i hate how overrated tesla and musk are #tesla does not have superior technology it's all marketing #and musk is an asshole #something that people close to him all note #human lives matter #i'm glad there are negative articles about this company #they are automating everything which means they could improve worker's conditions #workers rights #tech #manufacturing

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