#and the show was 10 times better than Boston

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, mentions of court, slight angst

Leaving the courthouse, I couldn’t shake the buzzing energy coursing through me. My feet moved faster than my brain, and before I knew it, I was on the subway. I didn’t need to think about where I was headed, I just knew I had to tell someone, and it had to be Willow. She’d understand better than anyone. After all, we had just talked about both Chris and Nate only a few days ago. The odds of bumping into Chris after reminiscing about him? Too weird.

I had Willow's live location on my phone and saw she was home. Perfect. No need for a warning text. I got off the subway and sped walked to her apartment in Beacon Hill and hurried up the steps, barely pausing to catch my breath before knocking. When she opened the door, her face lit up with curiosity.

“Oh hey! Everything alright?”

I stepped inside quickly, my heart still racing. “You’re not going to believe who I just ran into.”

Her eyes widened as she shut the door behind me. “Who?”

“Chris.” I said, my voice almost breathless.

“Wait, Chris Chris?” she asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Yes, that Chris.” I confirmed, and her jaw dropped.

“Oh my God! You have to tell me everything.”

We walked into her living room, as I spilled every detail of my courthouse encounter. 

“I saw him at the courthouse. He was there for Nate, apparently, but Willow.. he looked so good."

Willow dropped onto the couch, her mouth open in disbelief. "Oh my god. What are the odds of that?"

"I know, right?" I said, feeling my face flush again. "We had a little catch up when we ran into eachother outside. Nothing serious, but I was dying inside the whole time. Then Nate showed up, and it got a little awkward, but Chris asked if we could hang out sometime."

She leaned forward, wide eyed. "And what did you say?"

"I said yes obviously, have you seen the man?"

"Well no.. no one has in years." Willow laughs. “What was Nate there for?”

“Uh something about over possession of weed, I should’ve been listening better but I was kind of in a state of shock.”

“Oh..bit of a red flag.. but you have to admit..” she said, grinning, “the universe is totally messing with you right now. We were just talking about him and now he’s asking you to hang out.”

“I know, it’s crazy.” I shook my head, still processing it all. “Speaking of listening better, I need to write a report on the court case today, can I stay here and do it?”

“Yeah of course, we can get takeout or something.” Willow suggests.

We spent the next hour gossiping, ordering pizza, and chatting about Chris, all while I tried to write my report. Our food arrived and the moment I closed over my laptop, my phone dinged. I instinctively glanced at the screen, and my heart skipped a beat.

It was an Instagram notification.

I checked it, and there it was – a message from Chris. I stared at the screen for a second, then gasped, my eyes widening in disbelief.

“What? What happened?” Willow asked, almost dropping the boxes of pizza.

I turned to her with a mix of shock and smugness, unable to hide my excitement. “It’s him.”

“No way.” She said dropping the boxes on the table and rushing over, peering at my phone. “What did he say?”

I read the message aloud. “He asked if we could plan a date.”

Willow squealed, nearly knocking over her drink. “You have to respond. Now.”

“I don’t want to seem desperate!” I protested. “Let me wait a few minutes. Just.. you know, play it cool.”

But Willow wasn’t having it. “Y/n, please. It’s Chris. The way you’ve gone on the last few days you’d think you’re yearning for the love of your life.”

Reluctantly, I typed out a reply, my fingers shaking slightly as I hit send. Almost instantly, my phone buzzed again with his response.

@christophersturniolo: Great! How about dinner at Woods Hill on Friday?

I glanced at Willow, my heart racing all over again. “He’s suggesting a fancy restaurant.”

“Of course he is” she said, a smirk on her lips. “You better say yes.”

I nodded, my mind spinning, and quickly agreed to the plan. A moment later, another message popped up, this time with his phone number.

@christophersturniolo : Text me your address on Friday, and I’ll pick you up.

I couldn’t believe how quickly this was happening. But as excited as I was, a small part of me couldn’t help but wonder... Woods Hill was a pretty fancy place, how was he affording something like that? I knew his family situation wasn’t great, but I couldn’t base it off that after all these years, I wondered what he was doing with himself now, but i’m sure i’d find out soon enough.

Friday came faster than I expected. I stood in front of the mirror, checking my reflection for what felt like the hundredth time. My outfit was simple but elegant – a blue grey two piece set, something that worked for a nice dinner but wasn’t too over the top. I wanted to look good, but not like I was trying too hard. My parents were out of town for the weekend, I was relieved I didn’t have to explain this whole “first date with a guy I haven’t seen in six years” situation.

After one last glance at my reflection, I texted Chris my address: 

28 Glenland Rd, Brookline.

He replied almost immediately.

Chris S: On my way. See you soon!

I tried to stay calm, but my nerves were all over the place. What would we even talk about? How was he doing after all these years? Was this going to be awkward? I didn’t have much time to dwell on it because soon enough, I saw his car – a black Mercedes, pull up outside. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs.

Chris was waiting outside, leaning casually against his car with that same confident smile. He looked good, almost too good.

“You look amazing.” he said, holding the car door open for me.

“Thanks” I smiled, feeling a little more at ease as I got in.

As we drove to Woods Hill, the conversation between Chris and me felt effortless, like slipping into a familiar rhythm. It wasn’t long before we were laughing about old memories from being teenagers, moments we hadn’t spoken about in years. I couldn’t help but glance over at him, the sound of his laughter making me feel nostalgic and... something more. It was like time hadn’t passed at all, yet everything felt new.

But there was a shift in the air as we neared the restaurant. Woods Hill was upscale, the kind of place that required a reservation and wasn’t cheap. As much as I enjoyed his company, I couldn’t help but continue to wonder—how was he affording this? I debated whether to ask or let it slide.

Chris seemed to notice my silence as he pulled into the parking lot. “You okay?” he asked, shooting me a glance that was both teasing and concerned.

I smiled, trying to brush off the worry. “Yeah, it’s just... you seem like you’re doing well for yourself” I said, keeping my tone light but curious.

His smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, flashing me that same charming grin I remembered. “I’m getting by.”

There was something unspoken in his response, something that left a lingering question in the back of my mind. But I let it go for now. The valet took the car, and we headed inside.

Once seated, the ambiance hit me immediately. The restaurant was warm and intimate, with soft lighting and elegant decor that made it feel like we were the only two people there. I caught Chris’s eye across the table, and for a moment, it felt like time slowed down. There was something about the way he looked at me, like he was really seeing me, not just the girl he used to know but the woman I had become. It made my heart skip a beat.

The waiter came and took our orders, and as the quiet settled between us, Chris leaned in a little closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “So” he said, voice low and warm, “what are you doing in college? What’s the big plan for you?”

I couldn’t help but smile. He always had a way of making me feel like I was the only thing that mattered. “I’m studying law.”

His eyebrows shot up, genuine surprise lighting up his face. “Law? Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a lot, but I love it” I said, feeling a little rush of pride. “I want to help people, maybe work in criminal law eventually.”

He leaned back, his eyes locked on mine, so surprised it almost knocks the breath out of him. “Law… I didn’t see that coming. But it suits you. You’ve always been sharp, and now you’re out here trying to change the world. That’s… pretty amazing, Y/n.”

Hearing him say that made my heart flutter in a way I wasn’t expecting. His words were sincere, the admiration in his voice making me feel warm inside. The way my pulse quickened every time his gaze lingered on mine. It wasn’t just catching up with an old friend. It was something more.

“I don’t know about changing the world just yet” I said, laughing softly. “But I work in my mom’s bridal studio too, you know, gotta earn my own living.”

“Oh she still has that going? I remember you going in there to get money off her when we hung out one day.”

“Oh my god I remember that day so well! We went and sat on the grass in Public Garden for hours just chatting, so weird to think of how long ago that is now.. What do you do for work actually?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

Chris hesitated, just for a split second, but it was enough for me to notice. “I.. do some odd jobs here and there. Nothing major. Kind of like freelance”

“Oh that’s cool” I replied, not trying to look too deep into anything, even though alarm bells were going off in my mind. Maybe it would come with time where he opened up about his own life a bit more. 

But in saying that, not too long after he told me he was still living in Somerville, but no longer with his family.

“I’m staying with my uncle now” he explained, sipping his drink. “Medford Street.”

I paused, the name ringing a bell. “Medford Street? That’s kind of a rough area, isn’t it?”

He shrugged, brushing it off. “Yeah, it’s not the nicest, but it works for now.”

I nodded, though something about his response didn’t sit right with me. The easy way he dismissed it, like he didn’t want to get into too much detail. There was more going on than he was letting on, but I didn’t push it. Not tonight.

As we continued talking, I felt myself softening toward him more and more. Every laugh, every shared memory seemed to pull us closer together. It was like we were both trying to pick up where we’d left off, but with this added intensity, like we were discovering each other all over again. And for some reason, it felt fast, like we were diving headfirst into something neither of us fully understood yet.

I pondered with the thought of asking him if he was seeing someone else, was this just a casual thing he does with girls or was there potential with this? Before the words could leave my mouth, Chris’ phone started to buzz on the table.

I froze, my eyes darting to his phone screen. Chris picked it up so fast that I couldn’t see the caller name properly, only that their name began with V. The only name beginning with V that came to mind was Vanessa. God, please don’t let him be entertaining other girls.

But Chris quickly silenced the phone, his easy smile returning as if nothing had happened. “Sorry about that” he said, brushing it off. “Just work.”

I wanted to ask more, but something in his tone made me stop. Instead, I smiled back, but my mind was racing. Who was this V person? And what was this “work” he kept mentioning? God is he a sex worker now or something? I’m not trying to jump to conclusions or anything but I’d rather just know.

Still, as the night wore on, it was hard to deny the pull between us. We laughed, we teased, and every time our eyes met, it felt like something electric passed between us. By the time we finished dinner, I felt more connected to Chris than I had in years, maybe more than I ever had before.

Chris’ phone rang again and he grabbed it immediatly and stood up. “I’m so sorry I have to take this.”

As Chris walked outside to take the call, leaving me alone at the table, a knot tightened in my stomach. I stared down at my half empty drink, stirring it absentmindedly. What had I gotten myself into? The evening had started so well, easy conversation, genuine laughter, but now, the air felt heavy with something unspoken. There was an edge to Chris, a shadow of something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, and the more I thought about it, the more uneasy I became.

When he returned, his expression was tense, his smile forced. I could see it in the way his shoulders hunched, the way his jaw tightened as he approached the table. “I’m really sorry, Y/n” he said, his voice strained. “I have to go take care of something. It’s work related.”

My heart sank. This wasn’t the carefree Chris I’d reconnected with earlier in the night. There was something off, and it was glaringly obvious now. I nodded, trying to keep my tone neutral, though disappointment raged through me like a thick fog. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah” he replied quickly, too quickly, his eyes avoiding mine. “Just a bit of chaos. I’ll drop you home.”

The drive back felt like a far cry from the laughter and comfort we’d shared earlier. A thick silence filled the car, and every so often, I would steal a glance at him, hoping for some kind of explanation. But he kept his eyes on the road, hands gripping the wheel a little too tightly. The lightheartedness, the connection from earlier, it was gone, replaced by an invisible wall between us.

I fiddled with the strap of my bag, my thoughts racing. Why wasn’t he telling me the truth? Whatever this “work” was, it had a hold on him, and for some reason, he didn’t think I could handle knowing what it was. The more I thought about it, the more upset I became. If this was going to work – if we were going to be anything – I needed more than half truths.

When we finally pulled up outside my house, I was desperate for the night to end, but part of me didn’t want to leave things this way. I reached into my bag, fumbling for my keys, only to realise they weren’t there. “Oh shit” I muttered under my breath. “I forgot my key, on my way out.. The door just automatically locks behind me and my parents are out of town.”

Chris offered a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No problem. I can wait until you figure something out.”

I glanced over at him, searching for any sign of the man I’d spent the evening with, the one who had made me laugh, who had seemed so familiar. But all I saw now was someone distant, someone keeping secrets. “Actually” I said slowly, an idea sparking in my mind, “I can climb up to my balcony through the treehouse. It’s.. kind of a weird setup, but it works.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, a genuine laugh escaping his lips this time, the tension easing just a bit. “I’ve gotta see this.”

We walked around the side of the house, and I led him to the old treehouse.The previous owners had built it for their kids, and it connected perfectly to the balcony outside my bedroom. The wood creaked as I climbed, feeling like I was a kid all over again. When I reached the top, I looked down at Chris, who stood below, arms crossed, watching with a bemused expression.

“See?” I called down, forcing a smile. “Easy.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Alright, I’m impressed.”

I lingered for a moment, leaning against the railing, wanting to say more but unsure of what. “Goodnight, Chris,” I finally said, my voice soft.

“Goodnight, Y/n” he replied, his smile still faint but warmer than before. “I’ll text you.”

I nodded, turning away as I opened the door to my bedroom, thank god I’d a habit of keeping it unlocked, and into the safety of my room. The second I collapsed onto my bed, all the emotions I’d been hiding the last hour rushed to the surface. The excitement, the sparks from earlier, they were overshadowed by something darker now. That nagging feeling of disappointment sat heavy in my chest, pulling me down.

Chris was hiding something, something big. And as much as I wanted to ignore it, to brush off the unease gnawing at me, I couldn’t. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for the truth, but I knew one thing for certain: if we were going to fall for each other, this secret, whatever it was, would be standing in our way. And I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take.

a/n: "freelance" is hilarious to me lol

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @slutniolo @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69 @vickytaa

[glasskey]

Nick & June's Mix tape Vol. 3

With volume 3 comes the battle for Holly, separation and the unveiling of painful secrets. Season 3 was notoriously poor to our 2 lovers with June becoming seriously twitchy without Nick, Hannah or Holly. Gilead is Hell.

What Are You Good For?

Love in Gilead is less than ideal. One day you’re dreaming about a beautiful beach with your beloved and the next he’s been promoted to Top Boy at the local horror show. Granted he looks great in the suit but Nick doesn’t seem to like the new tie, grabbing at it like the tightening noose that it actually is. Fred was obviously pissed about the baby snatching and his “reward” for Nick was to arrange a promotion complete with a quick trip to the front, undoubtedly to die.

I’ve often said that Nick sometimes DOES listen to his better angels and sometimes he takes the easy way out. Granted it’s difficult he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, but when June asks him to take the high road, hightailing it with her and Hannah for the border, and he doesn’t, it earns him a brutal verbal slap.

“What are you good for?” she demands and I was instantly reminded of S1 when June confronted him with his lowly aspirations: “Is this it? You’re just gonna polish his car and once in a while get a Handmaid pregnant?” In both of these moments Blaine looks deeply shamed, June has shown him that while she loves him she’s also acutely aware of his shortcomings.

It’s a justified blow to his ego, particularly given his newly acquired power and his reluctance to use it for good. As she demonstrates her willingness to risk so much more for freedom, he’s left feeling like a small and suitably chided man, instead of the patriarchal Gilead’s new Big Commander. “You’ll get killed” June says with a cold finality as he tells her that he’s been sent to the front, confronting him with the reality that his unquestioning loyalty to Gilead will now surely cost him his life. It’s madness.

This is one of the only scenes where Nick and June are not depicted in a glowing light, it’s difficult to ignore that Nick is now almost swallowed by the shadows. Over the last 2 seasons, they’ve become one another’s beacon of joy and hope and there’s a palpable air of desolation and sorrow here, as these two bid each other goodbye, possibly forever. The camera reveals Nick and June divided by a wall, Nick unwilling to leave her, his back literally pinned to the wall by the heavy weight of Gilead.

June opens the door, gently reaches around, sensing him waiting, somehow their hands finding one another and she leads him out of the dark hallway and back into her room. Doors often represent entrances to other worlds and here we see June reach across the divide to return him to her side, once again. The lock snaps shut signalling an almost unheard of privacy. There’s a sense of finality in it too, as though it may be the last time these two see sanctuary for a long time, if ever again. It’s no more than 10 seconds of screen time and yet it encapsulates their relationship so perfectly. Nick constantly waiting in the shadows, bound by duty, and June always reaching across the divide to bring him in from the cold.

Nice Girl Like You in A Place Like This

The DC episode ranks right up there with the Boston Globe episode as one of the most important and insightful for this entire series. In Ep 6 June witnesses for the first time the absolute devastation this dictatorship has unleashed on her countries seat of power. Fittingly Fred has selected new wave DC as the location to construct his own personal piece of propaganda in an attempt to force the Canadians to hand Nicole back. June’s depicted glowering with vast angel wings, a monolith of power and holy vengeance. In the middle of Fred’s little directorial debut, Nick strolls in and June does the trademark jaw drop. Fred wants to know what he’s doing there, after all he had arranged for him to be shipped off to the front after the whole holding him at gun point / baby napping thing. Despite Fred’s best efforts though, it seems that not only does Blaine continue to breath, but he’s also shown up to visit his girlfriend.

Now if you thought Blaine looked good in a suit, wait till you see him draped in long, dark, tailor made, hotness. It’s obvious there’s a new kind of swagger to him and as he steps up next to June he brushes her hand and drops the line “Nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” It’s a line lifted from a Scorsese film of the same name and Blaine’s used it to flirtatiously lighten the intensely grim mood. He knows DC is Hell but he also knows June is anything but a “Nice Girl”, she blushes barely containing a smile and he smirks.

Fred and Serena can’t help but notice it and Fred’s seething with jealousy. There’s a close shot of Serena’s false finger clenching, a sign of the love lost between her and Fred, that contrasts directly against Nick and June’s hand brushing. Exchanges between Fred and Nick reek of power and control. Fred directs Nick to do his bidding, maneuvering him across the stage and verbally leashing him by calling him son, once again reducing him to a subordinate. Fred makes June kneel down for the camera, and Blaine looks away unable to watch. Unbeknownst to Fred, this will be the last time he ever exercises this type of control over Blaine.

This is Your One Chance

Here we got our epic movie moment for the series, It was like Gone with the Wind and Dr Zhivago all rolled up into one big romantic snow globe. June runs out to meet Nick her hair and cape fluttering behind her freely, a stark contrast to the DC handmaids brutally silenced. It demonstrates the freedom she feels he brings her. Nick, however seems to want nothing to do with June’s gamble on the Swiss that involves him laying his neck on the line and entwining himself in yet another Governments manoeuvrings for power. I, for one could hardly blame him; the last time he got involved with politics he ended up in the bottomless pit that is Gilead and he’s been unsuccessfully digging his way out ever since.

Add to this the fact that the last time he tried to help June, a multitude of people risked their lives and most certainly died, and you have one understandably reluctant Commander. But he’s helpless, she forces him to look in her eyes, tears streaming down her face and tells him that it’ll be his one opportunity to truly show his love and fealty for his daughter.

Now while some may doubt that Blaine ever showed up to speak with the Swiss, I can guarantee that this little exchange ensured that he did. The fact is, Blaine is a sucker for the loyalty card and once June played it, it was a done deal. Scenes are cut and included for a reason and as we know, in The Handmaid’s Tale, even the smallest scene is there for a reason. Show runners went to the effort of showing Blaine at the embassy being called to give information; he showed up, albeit reluctantly, and despite the fact that it all went sideways, writers still wanted you to know that. Unfortunately the reality is, he just couldn’t face her after it did all go to shit, and as a result he beat a hasty and somewhat cowardly exit to the front.

He knew the Swiss would soon tell her he’d been part of the Sons of Jacob who’d been integral to the inception of Gilead, something he’d kept hidden from her for some time now, and she’d be suitably mortified. June IS devastated, she looks out on the glowing playroom once filled with happy children that lies noticeably empty and silent. It reflects her isolation and sense of abandonment; perhaps the family she envisioned with Blaine was just a fantasy.

DC was an episode designed to illustrate the total destruction of all of our personal and societal freedoms under Gilead. To properly demonstrate this writers pulled the rip cord on any emotional support June may have previously had, this included breaking her and Serena up and having Nick leave her somewhat high and dry. It was essential to illustrate Nick was manipulated and part of the Gilead machine from the beginning. It was difficult to watch, given his devotion, but from the moment I saw him cloaked from head to foot in black, practically swallowed by his uniform, I knew it was inevitable that at least for now, Gilead pulled the strings.

In our next 2 Nick and June Mix tapes I’ll be covering Season 4, which was somewhat kinder to the Osblaine fans. Back soon.

[earthtoharlow]

Flashing Lights

10) I Miss You, Don’t Call Me

Jack Harlow x Singer!OC

TW: slight mention of violence, and mentions of alcohol abuse

Series Masterlist

Jack sighed as Maryse declined his call again. It’s been a month since that incident with Nate happened. The next morning Maryse didn’t want to talk about it, stating she was fine. Jack knew she was lying, but didn’t want to push her.

Things seemed to be okay for a few weeks but recently Maryse has been avoiding him. She would decline his calls and if the off chance she did answer she would rush him off the phone saying she had to get back to rehearsals for her shows she had coming up at the Apollo Theater.

Jack was afraid that if she continued on this path of keeping things herself that she was going to blow up one day. He hated seeing her like this. It doesn’t help that he’s in LA right now while she’s home in NY.

“Jack, why are you rushing back to New York, we literally need you in Boston for New Balance by tomorrow afternoon!” Neelam said as she interrupted his thoughts. Jack needed to see Maryse now, he couldn’t let this go on any longer.

“I’m going to see Maryse, I’ll go straight to Boston as soon as I’m done. I promise.” He responded as he continued to pack his backpack, deciding to only take essentials.

He ignored Neelam's sigh at the mention of his girlfriend. “Jack…” she started but he immediately interrupted her. “Don’t wanna hear it.”

“Jack, just hear me out! I love Maryse but your career is very important. This is a huge year for you, you can’t just drop everything for some girl, you’ve only been dating for 3 months! And don’t think I haven’t noticed her ignoring your calls…”

Jack pulled his hoodie over his head, and took a deep breath before replying. “It’s been five months.” Neelam rolled her eyes.

“I’m not dropping everything for some girl, she’s my girlfriend and a Grammy award winner, might I add.”

He continued as Neelam folded her arms in front of him. “She’s going through something right now and needs me. I’ve been running around nonstop, and haven’t missed an appearance. Boston is hardly an hour flight away from NY. I will be back in time for the NB event.”

Only thing Neelam could do was sigh, knowing she wasn’t going to change his mind. “Ok. Fine. You better be back in time.”

He gave a simple nod as he slung his backpack over his shoulders and headed towards the door. “Gotcha.”

As he walked out the door he turned around to say one last thing. “Oh, and Neelam?”

“Yeah?” She questioned.

“You’re going to respect my girlfriend, she’s here to stay. This weird energy you have towards her is going to stop.” He closed the door behind him, not giving Neelam time to react as she stood there with her mouth open.

***

“That sounded great guys, let's take a 30!” Maryse told her band with a smile. She was currently rehearsing for her shows the following weekend at the iconic Apollo Theater to celebrate her debut album.

Once everyone left the room she sat at the piano and she began playing around with some chords that had been in her head for a couple days.

She silently sighed as her fingers moved across the keys, the more she played the more she started thinking about Jack. He didn’t deserve how she was treating him and made a silent vow to call him when he left rehearsals.

“I haven't slept since Sunday…” she began singing the first thing that came to mind. She wished Jack was with her right now.

“Midnight for me is 3:00 a.m. for you. But my sleepless nights are better with you than nights could ever be alone.” Maryse hadn’t slept properly since the night of her release party, having dreams about Nate, she knew the only thing that would fix this would be opening up about with Jack.

“I was good at feeling nothing, now I'm hopeless. What a drag to love you like I do”

Fuck it. She thought as she pulled her phone out, dialing Jack’s number. He of course answered on the first ring, she spoke before he could even speak. “I love you so much, I’m sorry for ignoring your calls, we can talk about everything when I get home, okay?” She bit her lip as it was silent on the other line.

“I love you too.” Maryse gasped as she heard his voice from behind her. Turning around, Jack was leaning against the doorway, phone pressed against his ear.

She immediately jumped up from her place at the piano and skipped towards him. “What are you doing here?” Maryse questioned as she pulled him closer to her, pressing her face into his chest and smelling his cologne.

Jack just shook his head, and kissed the top of her head. “We can talk about it later. I just needed to see you.”

***

It was 10 pm when she got back home from rehearsals, she stripped as soon as she walked into the house. Walking into her room, Jack was spread across her bed, soft snoring leaving his mouth. She felt bad that he came all this way for her. Changing into one of his many shirts he’s left at her place, she climbed into bed next to him, pressing a kiss to his face.

Jack, being a light sleeper, woke up from the light kiss. “Hey” he said softly.

Maryse smiled at him, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for ignoring your calls.”

Jack pulled her in closer next to him in bed. Maryse wrapping her legs around his own. “I guess I should explain myself.”

He nodded. “But only if you’re ready, I never wanna pressure you. I’m just worried about you.”

Maryse nodded and was silent as she continued playing with his hair. “I had been dating Nate since he was a senior in college. So I’ve known him for a really long time. You could say he was my first real relationship. Everything was really good for a long time, until we weren’t. But everything changed when he tore his pec during a playoff game.”

Jack stayed quiet, letting Maryse get her thoughts out.

“He was really upset and angry with himself for getting hurt. So he started drinking to cope, I would come home from the studio and he would be passed out drunk in the living room.”

Maryse took a pause before continuing, she hasn’t spoken about this to anyone in almost two years. “I watched alcohol turn the man I loved into a monster. We would argue all the time, every problem we faced steamed from his drinking.”

She didn’t realize it in the moment that she had closed her eyes as she spoke, thinking about the things he would say out of anger. “You’ll never make it in the industry.” “No one will listen to your music.” “No one will ever love you like I do”

“He would say the curliest things to me during arguments but he never once put his hands on me. That night at the release party was the first.” Maryse could feel herself getting overwhelmed and tears started forming in her eyes.

Jack immediately pulled her into his chest, bringing her closer than she already was. “I’m sorry.” Maryse said, pulling back and wiping her eyes. She grimaced seeing the tear stain on his shirt.

He shook his head, “This isn’t my favorite shirt.” Maryse couldn’t help but giggle and pinched his side.

“Not about that you idiot! Sorry, for putting you, and Urban for that matter in that position. You both could’ve gotten extremely hurt that night! Especially with how angry Nate was. That’s why I was ignoring your calls because I was really embarrassed after that night.” Maryse ended with a frown.

It was Jack’s turn to frown. “I’m going to stop you right there. One, you didn’t deserve any of that shit he put you through. I’m sorry that you had to deal with that, loving an addict is a hard and taxing job. Two, you’re worth defending. I’ll throw my last punch defending you. You’re my person, my peace. I’ll do anything to protect you.”

Hearing Jack reassure her made Maryse relax for the first time in weeks. She also couldn’t help the flutters she felt in her stomach at Jack calling her his person.

“I love you, Jack.”

Jack leaned forward and kissed her head, nose and finally a sweet kiss on her lips.

“I love you more. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

Maryse pressed her lips against his lips one more time, happy he was here in her arms.

Jack let out a yawn. “Now, wrap your legs around me so I can go back to sleep. I have a flight to catch in 3 hours.”

She did just that, getting a full nights rest for the first time in weeks.

***

AN: hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Let me know you’re thoughtssss!

Tag List:

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @bout-mine @mace23477 @jackmans-poison @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @comehomeimissyou@minkookie95@harlowcomehome @jackharloww@jaydaaasworld@xxkoolkatxx @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @w1ldthoughts @jackiehollanderr @katiaw2 @halfmoondaze @babybardi2@vinniehackersbaee

[were-wolverine]

selina adopts dick au - details

- bruce and selina are dating when she adopts dick, and continue to date on and off. they get married after bruce adopts jason but still live separately because selina values her independence

- dick and jason (and later tim) have sleepovers all the time when they’re younger

- each of the boys has their own specific cat at Selina’s that they got to name. dick has a calico named Penny, jason has a tabby named Ernest and tim has a tuxedo named Mittens

- babs dick jason and tim went to Gotham Academy together (in this au it’s a K-12)

- babs & dick are best friends that flirt as vigilantes cuz they think it’s funny. they were friends as civilians first before revealing their identities which just made them even closer

- since selina is good friends with Harley & Ivy, and dick doesn’t work with Batman, they are basically dick’s aunties. him and harley do gymnastics together and she teaches him self-defense, ivy helps him with his chemistry homework and they often garden together

(he makes them promise not to hurt Batboy because that’s his little brother!! and so they usually just tie him up and put him in the corner while they deal with Batman lol)

- dick as Stray will often lead Batboy on chases to distract him when Batman fights some of his more ruthless rogues, because he’d rather have jason chase him and some priceless museum artifact than get hurt by a villain. he always lets jason catch him and return the artifacts in the end bc jason doesn’t call the cops on him lol

note: babs becomes Batgirl at 14 about a year after dick becomes Stray. jason (13) becomes Batboy when dick is 16 and babs is 17

- so: babs (17) is Batgirl, dick (16) is Stray and jason (13) is Batboy. tim (10) is not a vigilante but basically lives with dick and selina atp. they all know each other’s identities and go to school together

- babs (18) is shot by the joker about a year into jason (14) being Batboy. she becomes Oracle after teaching herself how to hack

- after graduating she moves to boston and goes to harvard law, but still helps Batman as Oracle

- dick (17) is a senior, jason (14) is a freshman, and tim (11) is in like 6th grade. dick continues to be Stray and jason continues to be Batboy until they graduate

- jason is 15 when he decides not to look for his birth mom (Sheila Haywood) and spends a few months living with selina before returning to the manor (mostly for alfred)

- when babs returns from boston after two years (she graduates early bc she’s a genius like that) she becomes a more permanent presence as Oracle and this is when tim asks to be her apprentice

- dick (19) went to college for a year before dropping out and enrolling in a paramedics program, which he is about halfway through (they take two years in NJ)

- around this time is when dick gives Stray to tim and instead becomes Nightwing (he read about the Kryptonian legend in an interview with Superman by Lois Lane), a vigilante that mainly does detective work and helps injured people instead of fighting criminals

- jason (16) is a junior and plans to leave Batboy behind when he goes to college

- luckily, this is when steph (14) as Spoiler shows up and basically forces Batman to train her. jason thinks she is hilarious and they become good friends. tim (13) is Stray atp and they end up having (another) Batman/Catwoman dynamic as Stray and Spoiler

- tim and steph do date briefly but decide they are better off as friends. the Cats are way less uptight about their identities so steph knows Stray & Nightwing are tim & dick

- dick still lives in Selina’s apartment with her and tim. he briefly dorms at Gotham University for the year he’s there but ultimately moves back (he misses his mom and his little brother and the cats)

- Spoiler helps out Batman when he needs an extra hand but prefers to patrol with Nightwing and be his crime-fighting partner while he helps the victims. they work really well together

- Stray and Spoiler honestly don’t cross paths very often unless they are purposefully hanging out together or both following Nightwing around

- jason helps train steph before he goes off to college and when he does, babs give steph the Batgirl mantle. she works more with Batman after jason leaves but still patrols with NW when she can

- jason goes abroad for college and later talia invites him to the League to be trained and tutored (talia and bruce are exes but ended on good terms. talia and selina are good friends and gossip about bruce). she also appoints him as her son’s bodyguard (she doesn’t mention that Damian is bruce’s… not yet at least)

- jason is also still sent to the All Caste cuz i think he deserves magic swords. in nanda parbat he is trained in martial arts and gets tutors for anything he wants to learn. talia basically adopts him as her own (selina is 100% aware of this and is happy for them, she and jason were never as close as her and dick or tim)

note: i changed this from jason’s original ending bc i wanted to include talia and damian

- tim is sent to boarding school by his dad and for a few months steph steps in as Stray. selina is eventually able to get custody of tim and bring him back to gotham, and he gets Stray back as steph chooses to become Spoiler again

- during the time tim is at boarding school, bruce finds and adopts cass. steph gives her Batgirl so she can sub in as Stray. cass happily takes on the role and loves working alongside bruce

(random side note: selina and talia have def hooked up before and talia calls both selina and bruce ‘beloved’)

timeline/ages

babs (20) is Oracle, dick (19) is Nightwing, jason (16) is Batboy, tim (13) is Stray, and steph (14) is Spoiler

after that we skip a year or two. babs (22) is still Oracle, dick (21) is still Nightwing, jason (18) is off in college, tim (15) is still Stray and steph (16) is Batgirl

the next year jason (19) is with the League, tim (16) is at boarding school, steph (17) is temporarily Stray and cass (18) is Batgirl

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 14A: Where Do We Go Now?

Soundtrack: “Sweet Child O' Mine,” Guns N' Roses, 1987 [click here to listen]

She's got eyes of the bluest skies As if they thought of rain I'd hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place Where as a child I'd hide And pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by...

Philadelphia || June 1988

Claire pushed her chair back a bit from the desk. Raised her arms. Stretched. Breathed deeply.

Reading for the eighth time the words she’d finally tapped out on the Selectric this morning, after days of rolling them around in her head.

Chief Physician

Boston Medical Center

To Whom It May Concern,

As you may be aware, I am a trauma surgeon at BMC. Twelve months ago I was placed on administrative leave by the BMC, and my medical license was suspended, pending the resolution of BMC’s internal investigation into my conduct. The investigation started by looking into a near-fatal error I committed during a surgery, and then quickly discovered that I had not only been forging prescriptions and stealing painkillers for quite some time, but also developed a severe addition to those painkillers.

As you may also be aware, I did not contest the actions taken by BMC. Subsequently I enrolled in an intensive drug rehabilitation program in North Carolina. I am happy to share that I am almost twelve months clean, having completed the program last December and successfully maintained my sobriety since then.

I have previously communicated to the Board, on several occasions, my sincere regret for what I did and my remorse for the incredible lapse of professional judgment and ethical standards I demonstrated. I repeat those regrets to you now.

Which is, in part, why I am writing you today. I wish to understand what else is required of me to return to work, in any capacity, at BMC.

Making amends for wrongs was something that Claire and Geillis had talked about a lot, during her time at The Ridge. Yes, doing that was a formal part of any 12 Step program.

But it was more than just saying sorry – it required the addict to recognize the wrongs.

To own them. To understand why they had happened, and the impact they had had on others.

Because nothing sounded more inadequate in the English language than the two words, I’m sorry.

But words matter. And this attitude shift was a crucial step on any addict’s road to recovery.

Making amends was something that Claire and Jamie had talked a lot about, too. She had seen him make amends many times, in their short time together – and quite often during their last few weeks on the road, as they traveled city to city for Print’s acoustic tour and Jamie came into contact with many people who had last seen him drunk/rude/high/demanding/hung over/acting like a total asshole during the last (disastrous) tour in ’86.

He made it a point to really talk to each person, to apologize for specific things he remembered doing. No matter if it was the venue manager, or the catering guy, or the lighting guy, or the security guard. I was a dick when I was drunk. I said terrible things. I hurt you. I’m sorry.

Two weeks ago in Chicago, he couldn’t sleep after a fucking incredible show at the old Chicago Theater. The adrenaline buzz after the show so much better than any pills or bourbon or groupie could have given him. He had tossed and turned for hours, until finally, quietly slipping out of their bed and perching in the easy chair in their suite at the Palmer House, watching Claire shift restlessly under the covers without him.

But of course, she knew when something was wrong. She woke, and turned to face him, easing up on one elbow. Watching him back. Giving him space.

When he finally spoke, it was just above a raspy whisper.

“How can you be here, Claire, when all you do is hear me talk about how awful I was to so many people?”

Her heart did break a little bit. “Because I never knew that version of you, Jamie. What I care about is who you are now.”

He sighed, breath ragged. “This shit is so fucking hard.”

“I know, baby.” Somehow she was standing beside him, and blindly he buried his face into the warm skin of her belly. She threaded her fingers in his hair, held him close as his pulse spiked.

“Deep breaths, Jamie. Focus on me. I’m here.”

He had had several panic attacks during the tour. Which could be chalked up to anything – the stress of changing hotels every day, the crush of fans and press that clustered around their tour bus when they arrived in a new city, the women who pulled down their tops in the front row at every concert, the Jack Daniels bottles and little baggies of powder left in his dressing room before the show in Wilkes-Barre.

But instead of smashing to pieces all alone, she sheltered him. He knew when to ask for help. And always found her just in time to crash against her, shaking and crying in bathroom stalls and green rooms and even once on the deserted tour bus. And each time she was so grateful for the psych rotation she’d done in med school that prepared her to help him.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

“Breathe in, Jamie. Think about how much I love you.”

He drew in a deep, sobbing breath.

“That’s right. Now exhale. I’m never going to leave you.”

He exhaled, shoulders shuddering.

“And inhale, Jamie. We can get hamburgers for breakfast again, if you want.”

He inhaled, and she felt a faint smile against her belly.

“That’s right. And out. Think about how amazing our wedding night will be.”

He exhaled. Gently bit the soft, soft skin above her bellybutton. She shivered, and smiled.

“Good. Center on me. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She counted along with him – twenty four more deep breaths. Caressing his forehead, and kissing his hair, and loving him and loving him and loving him.

Finally when he had calmed down, she crawled back into bed, and he held her so close against him. Kissing her forehead. Whispering endless words of love.

“If I ever fuck up with you, Claire, know I’ll always own it.”

She kissed his eyebrows. “The same for me, Jamie. I’d rather be mad at you than not have you.”

He had said the same words to her this morning. A promise he never tired of repeating. Murmured against her hair when he bent over to kiss her in the bed, body thrumming with energy.

Colum had booked a studio here in Philadelphia for the day, so that the band could lay down recordings of the acoustic tracks they’d played to dozens of sold-out crowds during the tour. With the incredible press from the tour – thanks in no small part to Geordie Ash’s profile in Rolling Stone – and bootlegs in wide circulation, it was time. And for once, the band agreed with the label.

She would join him later, of course. But today she needed the time to herself, to finally write and then mail the letter to Boston.

All because of Jamie.

“You can’t stay in a state of limbo forever, Claire,” he had said one night, meeting her eyes in the bathroom mirror as he gently brushed her shower-wet hair. “And I know we still don’t know where we’ll live when we’re married. But you have the right to know.”

She had sighed, jamming her hands in the deep pockets of the hotel bathrobe. “I don’t want to go back to that life.”

He had set down the hairbrush they shared, slipping his hands into the pockets, pulling her close against him. “I know. But you can’t have that door hanging open, Claire. Whether you open it or close it, you know I support you. But you’re not doing yourself any favors by not knowing.”

She had nodded, and pursed her lips. Smiling just a little as he kissed the shell of her ear.

She blinked, and turned back to the typewriter.

I have been traveling for the past few weeks, and won’t be back to Boston for at least the next month. Although I may not be immediately reachable by mail or telephone, I’m enclosing the contact information for someone who can get any letter or other message to me.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Dr. Claire Beauchamp

She gently pulled the paper from the typewriter roll. Signed her name. Took a deep breath. Began to address the envelope.

[overthebluemoon]

BLUE MOON! is a kpop GIRL GROUP formed in 2018 by OUTSIDER MEDIA. they first debuted with FOUR members in 2018, though in 2022 added a FIFTH and FINAL member. the group currently consists of FIVE members; JINRI, ARIES, DELLA, COMET, and TAEHA.

KANG JINRI is the LEADER, MAIN RAPPER, LEAD DANCER, VOCAL, CENTER, and PRODUCER of the girl group BLUE MOON. she was first shown to the public through the survival show PRODUCE 48 where she placed 15TH overall.

FULL NAME :: kang jinri

STAGE NAME :: jinri

BIRTHDAY :: february 10, 1999

POSITION :: leader, main rapper, lead dance, vocal, center, and producer

FACECLAIM :: jeon soyeon

BACKGROUND!

KANG JINRI was born in BUSAN, SOUTH KOREA as an only child in her family. from a young age her parents pushed her to be the best of the best in school, which only seemed to push her further and further away from it. when she was little, her uncle produced music and she always looked up to him for it, wanting nothing more than to be like him when she grew up. her uncle helped her learn all about producing even if her parents hated that it was talking time away from her studies. JINRI knew that if she wanted to get her parents approval to be a producer one day, she would have to become one of the best, which had her working every spare moment on becoming better. in 2016, she began posting her music online, where it was eventually found by MINJI, a member of the girl group LOTUS along with a producer under OUTSIDER MEDIA, and she asked to become a mentor for the young producer. JINRI agreed and started to work under MINJI, though in 2017, OUTSIDER MEDIA asked her to become an idol trainee to be in their next girl group. after only a few months of training, she appeared on the survival show PRODUCE 48, where she placed 15TH overall, just missing the debut lineup and went back to her company to debut in OUTSIDER MEDIA’S next girl group BLUE MOON.

NAM HYUNBIN, professionally known as ARIES, is the LEAD VOCAL and VISUAL of the girl group BLUE MOON. prior to being added into BLUE MOON in 2022, she was a well known MODEL due to her parents fame in the ENTERAINMENT INDUSTRY.

FULL NAME :: nam hyunbin

STAGE NAME :: aries

BIRTHDAY :: april 5, 1999

POSITION :: lead vocal and visual

FACECLAIM :: kim minjeong

BACKGROUND!

NAM HYUNBIN was born as the THIRD child and ONLY daughter of famous parents NAM DONGHYUN and KWON GYURI. her parents were one of the biggest couples in the entertainment industry and from a young age their kids were pushed into the public eye. she appeared in her father’s dramas and as a child model from numerous campaigns since she was little, focusing more on modeling once she hit her teen years. once she turned eighteen, she stopped appearing in the public eye all together, causing numerous rumors to pop up. HYUNBIN had decided her hated modeling and that she wanted to be an idol from the age thirteen, though her parents refused to hear anything about that, wanting her to follow in her mother’s footsteps and become a model. while she was younger, she couldn’t do much to change their minds, though at the age of eighteen she refused to take anymore modeling gigs and started to audition for many different companies. many companies were after her, though she didn’t want to go to one of the big companies, instead choosing OUTSIDER MEDIA, where she trained for a few years before being added into the BLUE MOON lineup when MAISIE had pulled out of it after IZ*ONE’S disbandment.

DELLA JANG is the LEAD VOCAL of the girl group BLUE MOON. prior to BLUE MOON, she had been a member of the girl group MISSKISS, which disbanded after only a year in 2017 and then appeared on the survival show PRODUCE 48 where she placed 38TH overall.

FULL NAME :: della jang

STAGE NAME :: della

BIRTHDAY :: may 16, 1999

POSITION :: lead vocal

FACECLAIM :: lee chaeryeong

BACKGROUND!

DELLA JANG was born as an only child in BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS. DELLA had always been a very hyperactive child and her parents put her in dance classes given by her preschool to tire her out. she started to really enjoy dancing, though it was always more of just a hobby for her. she also joined her schools theater program as a way to keep her busy after school, falling in love with singing and lots of musicals. when she was sixteen, she and her family went on a trip to SOUTH KOREA, where she was street casted by a small agency and decided to try her luck with an audition. she made it through the audition and quickly became a trainee under the company and debuted in the company's first girl group MISSKISS, which quickly disbanded after a year of inactivity. she then moved to OUTSIDER MEDIA with her fellow members MAISIE and TAEHA in hopes to debut in the company’s next girl group. she then quickly appeared on PRODUCE 48 where she placed 38TH overall, failing to make it into the debut lineup. she then came back to OUTSIDER MEDIA, where she debuted in the girl group BLUE MOON.

CHALITA 'COMET' NIKULPHON, professionally known as COMET, is the MAIN DANCER and VOCALIST of BLUE MOON. before her debut, she had been one of the most well known OUTSIDER MEDIA trainees.

BIRTH NAME :: chalita 'comet' nikulphon

STAGE NAME :: comet

BIRTHDAY :: june 2, 1999

POSTION :: main dancer, vocalist

FACE CLAIM :: natty

BACKGROUND!

CHALITA 'COMET' NIKULPHON was born in BANGKOK, THAILAND as the oldest child of three kids. her parents put her in dance classes as a kid, due to her mom loving taking dance classes as a kid, and COMET quickly fell in love with dancing. she started dancing all the time and quickly became a competitive dancer where she was noticed by some kpop companies around the age of fifteen. she joined JYP ENTERTAINMENT and began to train, though once she saw that she would likely not debut in their next group she left and joined OUTSIDER MEDIA in 2017 where she trained and joined the lineup of BLUE MOON, debuting in 2018.

LEE TAEHA is the MAIN VOCAL, LEAD DANCER, and MAKNAE of BLUE MOON. she had also been a member of the girl group MISSKISS with fellow member DELLA prior to the debut of BLUE MOON.

BIRTH NAME :: lee taeha

STAGE NAME :: taeha

BIRTHDAY :: july 2, 2000

POSTION :: main vocal, lead dancer, maknae

FACE CLAIM :: an yujin

BACKGROUND!

KIM TAEHA was born in DAEGU, SOUTH KOREA as the youngest of two kids. ever since she was little she wanted to be a singer from watching idols on stage. she began learning how to sing, though never actually got formal lessons. when she was fourteen, she finally convinced her mother to start letting her audition for companies, though she got rejected from most of them and kept audition to different companies for a year before being accepted to GLOWLIGHT ENTERTAINMENT, where she was quickly placed in the debut lineup for MISSKISS, which debuted in 2016. once the group disbanded after a year of inactivity, she moved over to OUTSIDER MEDIA with MAISIE and DELLA and debuted in BLUE MOON following the completion of PRODUCE 48.

[misfitwashere]

Friends,

Trump called attention to the discrepancy between his height (reportedly 6-foot-3) and Kamala Harris’s (5-7½ in heels), insisting that no accommodation be made to appear closer in size.

“No boxes or artificial lifts will be allowed to stand on during my upcoming debate with Comrade Kamala Harris,” he wrote, adding that such accommodations would be “a form of cheating.” There’s no evidence Harris has sought such things. 

Nicholas Rule, a psychology professor at the University of Toronto who researches social perception and cognition, said Harris’s shorter height will be irrelevant tonight because she exudes “Tall Energy,” which he defined as “the confidence that comes from being above average height.”

I am 4-feet-10. At my highest, I was 4-feet-11. I doubt I have “Tall energy.” But if I were on the stage tonight with Donald Trump, I’d demolish him. 

To be sure, when it comes to choosing leaders, our society is exceptionally heightist. 

When I ran for the Democratic nomination for governor of Massachusetts in 2002, it seemed that the only attribute reporters wanted to cover was my height. Regardless of what I said in my speeches, the Boston Globe ran photos of me standing on boxes so I could see over the podium. The right-wing Boston Herald ran a headline on its front page charging “Short People Are Furious with Reich” because I had joked about my height on the campaign trail. 

None of it helped me with that election. But I didn’t lose because of my height. I lost because I was a lousy campaigner.

Research shows that voters do prefer taller candidates. A paper published in 2013 by psychologists at the University of Groningen in the Netherlands analyzed the results of American presidential elections dating back to 1789. They found that taller candidates received more votes than shorter ones in roughly two-thirds of all elections. And the taller the candidates were relative to their opponents, the greater the average margin of their victory. 

Among presidents who have sought a second term, winners have been two inches taller, on average, than losers. The authors conclude that height may explain as much as 15 percent of the variation in election outcomes. 

It’s similar in the private sector. A survey of the heights of CEOs of Fortune 500 companies showed they were on average six feet tall -- about 2.5 inches taller than the average American man.

Why are we so heightist? Probably because of some genetic trigger in our brain that told early humans they needed the protection of very big men. Other things being equal, large males are more to be feared and they live longer. An impulse to defer to them, or prefer them as mates, makes evolutionary sense.

In Size Matters, Stephen S. Hall writes that in the eighteenth-century Frederick William of Prussia paid huge sums to recruit giant soldiers from around the world, thereby giving tangible value to matters of inches, and revealing “the desirability of height for the first time in a large, post-medieval society.”

But hey, I’m okay with giant soldiers, big security guards, and massive CEOs. I don’t care if I lack “Tall energy.” I’m fortunate to have grown up (or at least grown upward) in a society that values brains at least as much as brawn.

Kamala will win tonight, and she’ll go on to win the election in 55 days — not because of her “Tall energy,” but because she’s smarter, tougher, and better in every way than her large, stupid, decrepit opponent. 

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 10

You take Joel and Tommy around the QZ and reconnect while Andrew has misgivings. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-9 found on Tumblr here.

Main pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Length: 9.1K (sorryyyyyyyy)

Warnings: Smut :D YES FRIENDS JOEL IS BACK SO WE GET SMUT Oral sex, female receiving; unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up kids); no use of Y/N. Minors, DNI. 18+ only

“You’re not OK.” 

You were staring at the doors where they’d just taken Joel and Tommy. You couldn’t stop watching the doors. 

“Hey.” 

Andrew’s hand went over your shoulder. 

“Yeah?” You said, glancing at him for a moment before looking back at the doors. 

“C’mon,” he said. “We should get you out of here, you’re not OK.” 

You looked up at him. 

“Can I stay with you?” You asked. 

“Sure you don’t want to do your place?” He frowned. “I’ll go there…”

“Yours is closer,” you said.  

“By a block!” 

You shrugged. He sighed. 

“Yeah, my place.” 

He put his arm around you and tucked you against his side, staying mercifully quiet on the walk to his apartment. 

Joel was here. In Boston. He was alive, he’d survived all this time. He was here. Sarah wasn’t. 

“Hey Andrew,” his roommate, Steve, was on the couch, playing a GameBoy. He did a double take when he saw you. “Doc! Haven’t seen you in a bit. Thought you guys were doing better on the codependency thing…” 

“Not the night for it, dude,” Andrew cut him off. 

“No, it’s fine,” you sighed, flopping on an arm chair that you’d help them fix. You’d had to figure out an upholstery needle for that one. “You’re right. I’m just a shit show of a person at the moment.” 

“What happened?” He asked, glancing back at you before going back to the GameBoy. 

“Joel’s here,” Andrew said, putting a glass of whiskey in your hand and sitting on the floor by the couch. 

“Wait what?” Steve turned and stared at you. The GameBoy made a sad sound. “Aw shit, that was my last life…” 

“Sorry,” you said, taking a sip of the liquor. It was bad. You didn’t care. You looked in the direction of the clinic. 

“The fuck did Joel come from?” Steve asked, sitting up and tossing the GameBoy on their gouged coffee table. “Five years and he just appears out of the ether? It’s THE Joel, right? The one you’ve been looking for since the outbreak started?” 

“Yup,” you took another drink. 

“And you’ve seen him,” he said. “It’s not like you heard about him showing up in like… Atlanta or some shit, right?” 

“Oh he’s here,” Andrew said, sounding none too happy about it. You frowned. “In holding at the clinic as we speak, had to pry him off her to get him to go back…” 

“You don’t like him,” you said it more than asked it. Andrew sighed. 

“I don’t not like him,” he said. He was choosing his words carefully.��

“Then what’s the deal?” You asked. “I thought you’d be happy for me.” 

“I’m happy he’s alive,” he shrugged. 

“But?” 

“But,” he sighed, looking up at you, clenching his jaw for a moment. “Look, I talk to a lot more smugglers than you do.” 

“Yeah, I really wish you wouldn’t do that…” you said but he ignored you. 

“I know what people do outside the QZ to get by,” he said. “None of it is good. If he’s made it this long, it’s because he’s done some shit. Bad shit.” 

“What are you saying?” You frowned down at him. 

“I’m saying,” he said slowly. “That the Joel you knew? Is probably long dead. Unless the Joel you knew was a killer. Because the one who showed up here is.” 

“We’re killers, too, Andrew,” you said quietly. “I killed a lot of people to get us here.” 

“You killed infected,” he corrected you. “I killed infected. That’s different, they’re dead men walking then. It’s a mercy killing. That’s not the kind of killing I’m talking about.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, shaking your head. “There’s no way…” 

“He might have been a fucking raider for all we know,” he said. 

“That’s harsh,” Steve said. 

“It’s true,” Andrew replied. “Steve, you deal with smugglers all the time.” 

“I cannot confirm or deny…” he replied but you cut him off. 

“Come on, I work for FEDRA because I have no other options. I’m not a narc,” you rolled your eyes. “I know you buy pot, Steve.” 

“Oh,” he said. “Then yeah, all the fucking time.” 

“And what do they say about the outside?” Andrew asked. “About the people they trade with?” 

“It’s… rough,” he said. “Even the smugglers have to do some shady shit. But that doesn’t mean he’s a raider…” 

“He’s not a raider,” you snapped. “He’d never have put Sarah at risk like that…” 

“Yeah and he showed up without her,” Andrew said. “Something killed her.” 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you snapped, jumping to your feet so you towered over him from his spot on the floor. “He’d have never done anything to hurt her, never would have let anything happen to her if he could do anything to stop it, he’d have died for that girl if he could have.” 

“Old Joel, sure,” he shrugged, looking you dead in the eye. “You don’t know this Joel, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. It’s been a long five years. For everyone.” 

You sat back down, staying on the edge of the chair and chugging the last of the shitty whiskey. 

“I just don’t trust him with you,” he said, voice gentle. “You’re fragile…” 

“No I’m not,” you snapped. “I’ve survived everything you have.” 

“Emotionally fragile,” he replied. “You’re better than me that way.” 

You snorted. 

“By our powers combined, we’re almost a functioning person,” you joked. He laughed. 

“I’m just saying, I’m worried the guy is going to wreck you,” he said. Steve laughed, Andrew smacked him. “Dude. Not like that.” 

“Sorry,” he was still laughing. “Sorry, Doc!” 

Andrew sighed. 

“You know what I mean,” he said. “And I don’t want you suffering because you went in all open hearted to some guy you don’t actually know.” 

“It’s Joel,” you said softly. He sighed. 

“Yeah, I know it is.” 

The three of you stayed up drinking for a bit, your eyes always drifting back toward the clinic, where Joel was. 

“Alright, come on,” Andrew said eventually, half pulling you out of the chair. “You need to sleep, I know you’ve been going all day today and tomorrow’s going to be rough.” 

“I’m not sure I’m going to be able to sleep,” you said, looking toward the clinic again. 

“There’s nothing you can do for him right now,” he said gently. “And I think we can agree that the Joel you used to know would want you to get some sleep, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. 

“Then let’s go.”

You went to his room and got the pajamas out of the half drawer he’d left for you in the dresser. 

“You know, if we’re actually aiming to break the codependency habit, we should probably not leave shit at each other’s apartments,” you said, changing with your backs to each other. 

“We’re doing better than we were five years ago,” he said. 

“A low bar indeed,” you said, getting in bed. He climbed in beside you. “Sorry in advance.” 

“Yeah, I know what I’m getting into,” he said. “You do the same for me. Wake me up if you need it.” 

He held his arms open and you tucked yourself against his chest. 

“Same.” 

There were planes falling from the sky again. You could smell burning jet fuel and the inhuman sound of infected was deafening, so loud you couldn’t move. You just fell to your knees, hands over your ears, screaming to drown out the other sounds. 

“Help!” Sarah was in front of you, wearing the shorts and tank top she’d been in the last time you’d seen her, July five years earlier. You could see the metal of the barrettes in her hair, reflecting the fire as it burned. You reached for her but she was suddenly too far away, so far out of reach. But her voice somehow carried over the screams of the infected. “Help me!” 

“Hey!” Andrew shook you, snapping you back into reality. It took you a moment to figure out where you were. You were hyperventilating. “It’s OK, I’ve got you…” 

“Fuck,” your tense body loosened into the mattress. There were tears in your eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “Just breathe through it, you’re OK.” 

You nodded into his chest and did the best you could to obey. 

“What time is it?” You asked. 

“Just after 4:30,” he said. “You did pretty good, all things considered.” 

“Look at me, almost sleeping through the night,” you sniffed. “I’m like an accomplished infant.” 

“I’ve been in worse positions with you,” he said. He kissed the top of your head. “This is just what we do.” 

You stayed in bed until your heart rate returned to normal and got up, only then realizing that you didn’t have much in the way of clothing options at Andrew’s place and you certainly didn’t keep the things you liked the best there. It was a stupid thing to be worried about, but you wanted Joel to think you looked good. You wanted to feel like you looked good when you were with him. 

“Want to go back to your place real quick?” Andrew asked, leaning against his doorway. Like he could read your mind. At this point, he probably could. 

“No,” you said, putting on the shirt you had there. “I want to get to the clinic.” 

He sighed but went with you. 

“You’re going to be real early for work if you show up now,” you teased him, trying to focus on anything even slightly normal. 

“I know, it’s a change of habit,” he half smiled at you. “Aren’t you usually making excuses for me?” 

“We all just expect it now,” you shrugged. “You’re lucky I’m such an amazing doctor, they want to keep me sane so they’re stuck with you and your shit.” 

“Should really abuse that connection as long as possible,” he nodded solemnly. “Pretty much the only reason I keep you around, only a matter of time before you get wise.” 

You got to the clinic and he unlocked the front door, no other doctors there yet. 

“You can’t get him for an hour,” he said, leaning against the front counter. “They picked them up at 6 p.m., Lee and Elias won’t let you fudge the waiting period…” 

“Yeah, I know,” you sighed. “But I wanted to be here.” 

You were starting to wonder why you’d ever left the clinic at all. It felt better here, being in closer proximity. You couldn’t see Joel but you knew he wasn’t far, close enough that you could be to him in just a moment if it wasn’t for the walls and guards between you and the holding rooms. You could breathe easier knowing he was close, knowing you were going to touch him again in just a little while. That this was as close to him as you could get and you’d done what you could to be there. 

“C’mon,” he jerked his head and led you down to the doors for the holding rooms. You frowned but he just sat beside them and patted the floor next to him. “My lap’s a good pillow. Try to get some more sleep.” 

“You’re lap’s a shit pillow, actually,” you snorted but sat down beside him, anyway. “You’ve put on too much muscle, you need some pudge. You’re too hard.” 

Your head went into his lap anyway. He ran his fingers through your hair. 

“Bake for me more and we’ll see what happens on the pudge front,” he replied. 

You did manage to drift off for a few minutes, Andrew’s easy breathing and his hand in your hair making you feel secure enough to sleep again. But yelling from the other side of the door woke you up. 

You shot up with a jolt. 

“No,” you breathed, jumping to your feet and yanking on the doors. You knew they would be locked, you couldn’t get into the holding area without a security escort. You kept pulling anyway before you started beating on them. “Let me back! Let me back!” 

Andrew pulled you back and you fought to rip yourself away from him. 

“If he turned, you don’t want to see that,” he said, his arms caging you in. “If he’s turned, there’s nothing you can do…” 

“He’s not dying alone!” You sobbed, straining and reaching for the doors. “I don’t care if he’s turned he’s not dying alone!” 

The doors opened, a guard looking you over. 

“Friends of yours in there, Doc?” He asked. You nodded. “They’re pretty demanding, wanting to see you.” 

“So they didn’t turn?” You asked, going still. 

“Just as healthy as they were when they went in,” he replied. You went limp in Andrew’s arms, relieved. The guard sighed. “They’ve only got half an hour left, want to come sit with them? On this side of the bars, can’t let you back further.” 

You couldn’t seem to find your voice so you just nodded as fast as you could. Andrew released you and you all but ran into the holding area. 

It wasn’t a place you knew all that well, always escorted on the occasions you needed to come back and euthanize someone who came in infected but still lucid. You hated this place, hated being in there, hated that it seemed to reek of death even though you knew it was clean and sanitized. 

Joel was… loud. His voice carried and you were able to follow it easily, running full tilt until you found where he was. They were in separate cells and there was another set of bars separating the passage between the cells and where you were. Tommy noticed you first. 

“I don’t give a shit,” Joel was yelling.”I need to see her, I need to see her right now…” 

“Hey Kid,” he smiled sheepishly from the holding cell across from his brother. 

You gave him a quick smile as Joel realized you were there. His eyes ranged over you, like he was reassuring himself that you were alive. 

“Hey, Tommy,” you said. You weren’t looking at him. “Hey, Joel.” 

“He make enough noise that they went and woke you up?” Tommy asked. You still didn’t look at him but you shook your head. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” you replied. “Figured I’d just come here. I was going to just sit in the clinic but…” 

“Everything OK?” Andrew asked. It was almost reassuring that he hadn’t felt the need to run with you. Almost. 

“Yup,” you nodded once.

“My brother was just causing a scene,” Tommy said, giving him a wave. “I’m Tommy, by the way. That’s Joel. Seems like you’re a… friend of the Kid’s.” 

“The Kid’s?” You could hear Andrew’s frown. 

“What they called me back in the day,” you glanced back toward him. You were right, he was frowning. You looked back toward Joel and smiled a little. “Ten years ago now.” You realized that you hadn’t introduced anyone to someone else in… well, years. “Sorry, this is Andrew.” 

When he didn’t say anything you looked back at him, giving him a look. He sighed and raised a hand. 

“Hi,” he said, tone flat. You rolled your eyes and looked back to Joel. He was pretty much the only place you wanted to look. 

“There’s a lot you have to do when coming into the QZ,” you said after a moment of awkward silence. “I’m going to take you guys through it today, get you housing, into the system to find work, that sort of thing…”

“Gonna be weird to be in a system again,” Tommy joked. You glanced at him. He was watching Joel, closely. Trying to get him to engage. “Course starting out behind bars oughta kick start that process for me.”

“God, I bet,” you said, talking more to Tommy but glancing at Joel. “Should be old hat for you now. I pretty much went from one system to another but hey nothing was as bad as when I was trying to get into that one 400-level bio class my senior year. Remember that, Joel? I had to be on campus at 6 a.m. on registration day so I could get one of the slots? I made you take me so I wouldn’t have to park…” 

“You didn’t make me do anything,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I volunteered. Got to spend the morning with you, worth losing a little sleep.” 

You smiled. Andrew was wrong. Your Joel was still in there. He always would be. 

***

Joel hadn’t slept for shit. The dreams woke him up early. He’d dreamed of you dying before - more times than he cared to count, more times than he cared to think of. It had been a foregone conclusion then. He had the idea that he would have felt it when you died, sensed it somehow. He’d just… know. And he’d felt that way. The day after the outbreak, he’d felt it. 

He stopped looking for you then. Couldn’t handle it, having it confirmed on the off chance he ever found something leading to you. Not that there was any kind of record keeping in the apocalypse but he lived in fear of one day finding out that you’d been infected, that someone had hurt you before they killed you. 

But the lack of knowing left room for his mind to concoct the worst outcomes. You, torn to pieces by infected. You, shot and left to bleed out after your supplies were stolen. You, taken as a commodity by the kinds of men who grabbed power when things went to shit, killed when you were no longer useful. His unconscious mind had filled in every blank except one: you, alive. 

Now that he knew you were, the dreams were a different form of hell. They weren’t images of what had happened, things he couldn’t change no matter how much he wanted to. Instead they were fates that could befall you, things he desperately needed to protect you from. When the dreams woke him up this time, he couldn’t handle it. He had to see you. Confirm that you were alive, whole. And they were keeping him from you. 

He tried to keep it down for Tommy. He tried to ask nicely. It got him nowhere. It felt like he was going to lose his mind if he couldn’t just see you, just for a second, just to confirm that you were OK. The relief when saw you was acute, sharp. Like someone had healed a gaping knife wound in his chest. It took him a moment to even hear what you were saying. 

You kept looking at him, like you needed to see him, too. Only ever pulling your eyes away to glance at Tommy or sometimes the man who’d come in with you. Joel knew he’d heard his name but he hadn’t remembered it. He was just thankful he seemed to be keeping his fucking hands to himself. 

“Alright, step back guys,” the guard snapped Joel out of his own head, stepping forward with keys. He immediately obeyed. He started with Tommy first - probably punishment for Joel’s yelling overnight - and then moved to Joel. You were there, just one more set of bars between you. It seemed like unlocking that last fucking door took hours when he knew it had only been a moment and then he was holding you again. 

You somehow still smelled like lavender. It didn’t make sense, how the fuck did you smell like flowers in the apocalypse? Maybe he hadn’t found you. Maybe he’d finally lost his mind and he was hallucinating in a ditch somewhere. He didn’t fucking care. You were soft and warm and smelled like you and your arms were so tight around him he couldn’t take a full breath and he didn’t care about that either. 

“Can we get the fuck out of here?” Your… whatever he was said. “I hate it back here.” 

You nodded against Joel’s chest before you realized that you’d probably have to speak to answer him. 

“Yeah,” you said. Your voice was muffled by his shirt. “Let’s go.” 

You hand slipped into his as you separated from him, as though touching him was the most natural thing in the world, and you followed your friend out of the clinic. 

It was still dark outside, the city quiet. 

“Welcome to the Boston QZ,” you smiled a little, looking up at Joel. “Your luxury accommodations for the end of the world.” 

Tommy laughed. Joel smiled. You’d kept your sense of humor. 

“Truly the finest,” your friend was walking backwards so he could look at you. Joel narrowed his eyes at him. “Ration cards, FEDRA housing, a black market that occasionally has AC/DC albums. We have it all.” 

“You hid my Beatles CD at the clinic, I know you did,” you said, tone accusing but light. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tried to look innocent. “I do know that the next time you’re going into surgery and you just absolutely need ‘Hey Jude’ to get through it, it will magically appear.” 

“You’re the worst person,” you smiled as you said it. “Just a kick in the balls personified.”

“How would you even know!” 

“It was a very important part of my training,” you said seriously. “Studied ball kicking very intensely…” 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

You stopped at a side street and your friend frowned. 

“I know you’re tired,” you said. 

“So.” 

“Don’t need an escort, Andrew.” 

Andrew. Joel tried to remember it this time.  

He glanced quickly at Joel then looked back to you. 

“You know why…” 

“And I’m saying I know that’s not a concern,” you cut him off. “I don’t need you to protect me.” 

“Yeah, well, maybe you do,” he replied. “Maybe I know better than you here.” 

“Andrew.” 

He sighed. 

“I’m checking on you later,” he said, pulling you into a hug and kissing your temple. Your hand stayed in Joel’s. He lowered his voice but Joel could still hear him. “Remember what I said. He’s not…” 

“I’ll be fine,” you looked up at him. He quickly glanced to Joel, kissed your temple again, and left. You watched him go for a moment. 

“Sorry about that,” you said brightly. “Andrew’s paranoid. Course I’m paranoid with him too so I guess it’s only fair… anyway, stop one on our tour is going to be my apartment. We can grab something to eat and I can get a few things to make getting you set up easier.” 

You led them another block to a building that had probably once been luxury apartments but those days were long passed. Your place was on the third floor and Joel liked that there were two deadbolts on your door. 

“Sorry, it’s pretty small…” you opened the door for them and turned on the lights. It was small, even by city standards. All one room, your bed against one wall with a small couch at the foot of it. A two seat table just off the kitchen that only had one stretch of counter. What little extra space there was was filled with shelves covered in books and CDs. “I never have more than one person over at a time but you guys take the table, I’ll see what I have here. Unfortunately Whataburger died with the rest of civilization and it never made it this far north to begin with so we’ll just have to make do with what I’ve got.” 

You opened a tin - one you’d painted because of course you had - and put it on the table. Tommy all but dove into it, grabbing an oatmeal cookie and taking a bite, moaning as he did. 

“Fuck, Kid, you still make a mean cookie,” he said, sitting back in his chair. You smiled.

“You just haven’t had cookies in a while,” you said. “Imagine if you could just get a fucking Oreo now?” 

“Yours are still better,” he shrugged. Joel took one, too, looking at it for a second. He hadn’t had anything like this in so long - and nothing of yours in even longer. He took a bite, absorbing it for a moment. Tommy was right. You still made fucking delicious cookies. He watched as you rifled through your tiny kitchen, pulling things out, frowning, considering them, setting them on the counter. You were still… you. He didn’t understand it. How were you still you? After everything that had happened to the world, you’d remained intact. 

“So first lesson in QZ foodstuffs,” you said, setting a few things out on the table. “Lots of shit that’s been preserved. Jerky is, unfortunately, your most reliable source of protein. We get the fresh stuff from time to time but it’s pricy. Andrew’s roommate Steve gets it the most but he usually asks me to cook it because they were teenage boys during the outbreak and couldn’t cook a steak if their lives depended on it…” You shook your head and smiled a little and then blushed. “Sorry, I’m rambling, I just haven’t talked to… Anyway! Dried fruit, I’ve still got some bread left from what I made the other day and there’s coffee. The coffee is pretty rough, fair warning, the beans are all like five years old.” 

You poured them each a cup, grabbed a slice of bread and went and sat on your small couch. Joel frowned, taking a piece of jerky and his coffee and sitting next to you. You just raised your eyebrows at him but didn’t question when he put his arm on the back of the couch and you slid into your place against him, head on his chest. He put his arm around you. This was better. 

“So how’s the ration card thing work?” Tommy asked after a moment of looking between the two of you. 

“They’ve basically just replaced money at this point,” you shrugged, still tucked against Joel’s side. He could feel you breathing. “I think they were intended to work differently than that - I was only in some of those discussions. I helped Dr. Elias set up the medical facilities here at first so I know a lot more about that. Even though that’s devolved a bit, too. I’ve tried to keep the better things going as I can but we’re reliant on what we can get from FEDRA out of Atlanta when it comes to medications and supplies. Originally, ration cards were intended to make it so everyone had enough and no one took too much but of course human nature took hold. I work a lot - don’t exactly have much else going on in my life - and it’s just me, so I’ve got a bit of a stash built up. We can use that to help make sure you guys get set up in a decent place, have food to get you going, that sort of thing.” 

“We can’t have you wasting your money on us,” Tommy tried to wave you off but you scoffed. “The fuck else am I supposed to use it on?” You rolled your eyes. “I’d rather them go to something good than sit with me forever.” 

After breakfast, you made Joel get off the couch and moved it slightly, prying up a floorboard below it. You pulled out an old shoebox and grabbed a few handfuls of cards from it, tucking them into a small bag. 

“Trusting you guys with the location of my secret stash,” you teased. “Don’t go clearing me out now.” 

You looked between them for a moment before something seemed to occur to you. 

“Oh, duh,” you shook your head. “I don’t think I have much here that would fit either of you - Andrew’s a bit on the skinny side - but did you want to shower real quick? We can always come back later, after we get you some clean clothes and whatnot but if you want to clean up now, too…” 

“Later’s fine,” Joel said quickly. He wasn’t sure he could handle being somewhat alone with you in your small apartment while Tommy got cleaned up. Not yet. Not if Andrew had clothes at your place. 

“Then on to the next adventure,” you smiled and led the way. 

You took them through the city, pointing out various landmarks and things of note (“That’s the speakeasy. Technically illegal but FEDRA officers are in there as often as anyone else, really the only safe spot for a drink in town.” “That’s where you go to find work until you can get something steady.” “Market’s here, use ration cards to get what you need…”). Your fingers were always laced with Joel’s. It seemed like everyone there knew you. Everywhere you stopped, someone said hi. Everyone called you Doc, like that was your name. Except one older man who made you practically jump out of your skin when you saw him. 

“Abe!” You called out, waving your arm up high. He spotted you and you started pulling Joel along behind you to meet him. 

“Sweets!” He pulled you in for a quick hug before looking Joel up and down. “Who’s this?” 

“It’s Joel and Tommy,” you smiled so huge your face shone with it. Abe’s eyes went wide. 

“Oh, Sweets,” he hugged you again. Your hand stayed in Joel’s. “I’m so happy for you. How’d you find them?”

“They showed up yesterday evening,” you were still smiling. “I knew they would turn up eventually…” 

“You did,” Abe stepped back from you, lifting your chin with his fingers, smiling affectionately at you. “Just goes to show you shouldn’t listen to an old man like me.” 

He looked at Joel at Tommy for a moment, like he was looking at ghosts, before looking back to you. 

“Take it I won’t be seeing you tomorrow then?” He asked, half smiling. 

“Hey, I said I’d bring you muffins,” you replied. “They just might be a few days late.” 

“You’ve fattened me up enough,” he hugged you tightly. “How about I just see you around. I’m so happy for you, sweetheart.” 

You watched him go for a second before turning back to Joel and Tommy. 

“I’m so sorry, I am so bad at introducing people now,” you shook your head. “I’ve just known everyone for years… That was Abe. He’s the radio operator here. It’s underground, goes to the other QZs but FEDRA turns a pretty blind eye. I’ve been his most regular customer for the last five years.” 

“Why?” Tommy frowned. “Why’d he seem to know us?” 

“I’ve been looking for you,” you replied, starting off again. “I figured if anyone was going to make it out alive, you guys were. And I didn’t think you’d go to a QZ until you either absolutely had to or you decided life outside the QZ wasn’t worth the trouble and you decided to give it a shot on the inside. I knew you’d turn up eventually. So Abe’s been radioing all the other QZs for me twice a week every week to see if you’d turned up.” 

Joel roughly pulled you into his chest, breathing in your hair. You hesitated for a moment before wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“You OK?” You asked, voice muffled. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Got you.” 

He could barely pay attention to anything else that happened. You hadn’t given up on him. You’d been searching, calling around, trying to track him down, certain that he was alive somewhere. You hadn’t given up on him. He’d just given up on you. 

Five years. Five fucking years you’d been almost exactly where he’d told you to go. Had he just gone where he’d said he’d go, he’d have tried Boston almost immediately. And he’d have found you. He could have been with you the last half a decade and instead he’d been wandering the wasteland that had been the United States, finding places to lay low, killing whoever he needed to for supplies, justifying it with survival. And you’d been here, searching for him. 

There were a few changes about you he noticed as you helped them through the process of getting set up in the QZ. One was, you’d become a deft negotiator. You were still you about it - never cold or cruel, all kindness and sweetness as you bartered, leveraging your personality and skills in the process - but it was strange to see you go back and forth with the housing person to try to get them what you thought was a suitable place. You did it, though, counting out the ration cards in your bag and passing them over with a kind smile. 

You did something similar at the clothing shop, chatting with the woman who was putting out new stock to get her to point out where the better stuff was and asking after the cashier’s child (“How’s that incision looking? Still holding food down OK? Need me to come by and check up on him?”) She gave you a discount and you told her to just come by the clinic if she changed her mind about her son, that you’d be happy to make a house call. 

Five years you’d been here and you’d built yourself a life. You somehow managed to have everyone you met wrapped around your finger. It was the end of the fucking world and you’d made everyone fall in love with you. Of course you had. You’d stayed sweet and soft and kind through it all and Joel couldn’t understand it. 

You stopped by the market on the way home and picked up a few things to make dinner and told Tommy and Joel to get cleaned up while you cooked. Joel went first, he needed to try to get his head right before being alone with you. He didn’t know how he was going to handle it, didn’t know what the deal was with you and Andrew, didn’t know what to want from you - what it was OK to want from you. 

He put on the clean clothes and looked in the mirror at himself for a moment. Could you still want him now? Was that even a possibility? Should he just thank you for your help, go to his new apartment with his brother, and try to forget you? He didn’t know. 

You were in the kitchen when he came out. There was a Fleetwood Mac album on and you were unconsciously bobbing your head in time to the music. Tommy gave Joel a look on his way to the bathroom, a look that said ‘don’t fuck this up you absolute idiot.’ Joel just shrugged at him. You glanced behind you. 

“I’m afraid I can’t promise you anything too fancy,” you smiled a little. “But I do have some beer if you want?” 

“Beer is good,” Joel nodded. You nodded back, sucking something off your thumb before going to the fridge. The beer was in large jars and you poured two glasses of it, handing one to Joel and taking a sip of your own before putting a baking dish in the oven. You busied yourself cleaning up the kitchen and Joel took a moment to look around your place. 

“You still have the quilt,” he said, looking down at the bed. 

“Oh,” you glanced at him, giving him a half smile. “Yeah. When I was packing a bag that night, I had some space and I really wanted to keep it if I could… turns out, it survived the trip.” 

You’d had to patch it a few times over the years, some of the small purple flowers much brighter than the others. 

“My mom made it,” you said, rinsing a measuring cup. “When she was pregnant with me. It’s the only thing I have of her, the only sign I have that she thought I might have been worth the trouble at some point, even if it was just for a bit. I didn’t want to leave it behind.” 

He looked at you for a moment. 

“It was her loss, Kid,” he said softly. You just shrugged. He went back to looking around your place, freezing at the photo on your nightstand. 

It was framed - you’d painted it, flowers over the gouges in the wood - and Sarah stared back at him. His heart was pounding. He picked it up slowly, almost in a daze. 

He hadn’t seen her face in years. You’d taken the photo on your hiking trip, just over a year before the outbreak. It was slightly off center. You were the only one looking at the camera. Sarah was looking at you, smiling, and Joel was looking at her. You looked like a family. You’d been a family. It was how it was supposed to be. 

His eyes traced the planes of her face, trying to make sure he remembered everything right. Just where her freckles lay, the way her eyelashes fanned out, the few curls around her temples that were a bit more unruly than the others. 

“Oh, Jesus,” you dropped whatever you’d been cleaning. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t think about that, I should have put that away…” 

“Where’d…” he asked, still looking at the picture. 

“I grabbed a few photos as I was packing,” you said quietly. “I have a few of the three of us, one or two of me and Nan, one of me and Becca… I had a feeling I wouldn’t be back so I wanted to make sure I had them.” 

You were quiet for a moment. 

“You can have that one,” you said. “Or one of the others. All the others, if you want. I’m in them, too, but they have… I’m guessing you don’t…” 

“Didn’t grab anything,” he said, setting the photo back down. “It was too hectic. Was just tryin’ to get the fuck out.” 

“I was only able to take stuff because of you,” you said softly, looking down at the ground for a moment before looking up at him. “I’m only alive because of you.” 

The water turned off in the shower. You went back to cleaning up. 

Dinner was surprisingly good. Joel wasn’t sure how you’d turned mostly canned stuff into something good but you had. It probably helped that he and Tommy had been living on shit or anything they could hunt for a while - wasn’t like they had fucking garlic lying around - but it would have been good regardless. 

Tommy was kind enough to keep the conversation going through dinner, asking you questions that had run through Joel’s mind but he hadn’t been able to make himself say it. Like how you’d come to be known as doc. He had an odd moment of pride, hearing how you’d persevered and done what you’d dreamed of doing in the midst of it all. You said you also taught at the FEDRA school during the day before going and working in the clinic at night. The school was understanding when you got pulled away for emergencies - apparently mass casualty incidents happened in QZs, too - and it sounded like you enjoyed the odd balance you’d been able to strike between educator and medical professional. He didn’t, however, ask about Andrew. 

“Well, Kid, I think you’ve spoiled me enough for one day,” Tommy patted his stomach. You smiled. 

“Happy to have the chance to do it,” you said. 

“I think I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted… go start settling in to the new place,” he got up and clapped Joel on the shoulder. 

“If you need anything, you know where to find me,” you smiled. “Seriously, any time. I want to help. I’m happy to help.” 

“Thanks, Kid,” he smiled before looking at his brother. “Joel.” He gave him a nod and then left. You watched him go for a second before taking a sip of beer. 

“You’ve done well for yourself here,” Joel said after a moment of awkward silence. “Better than just survivin’.” 

“Thanks,” you smiled a little. “Figured if I was stuck living through the end of the world, I should do what I can with it, right?” 

“Suppose so,” he half smiled back. He took another drink of beer. 

“Joel,” you sighed after a moment. “I should apologize for what I said yesterday.” 

He frowned. 

“What d’you mean?” 

“Before I left for the night,” you weren’t looking at him, you were staring down at your empty plate. “When I said I loved you… I shouldn’t have said that and I’m sorry. I understand that it’s been a long time, a lot has happened, we weren’t even together when…” 

“Don’t apologize for that,” he cut you off. Your eyes met his. “I… liked hearin’ it.” 

“I just don’t want you to feel remotely obligated to me,” you said. “Not in any way. You don’t need to even be my friend if you don’t want to. I’ll still help you guys get settled, you can even consider it payment for saving my life when the world came crashing down if that makes it better…” 

“I just don’t want to disrupt your life, Kid,” he said, sitting back in his chair. Fuck, you were pretty. “You’ve got a life here. An actual life. You’ve got a career doing something you love, you’ve got people, you’ve got Andrew… I don’t want to fuck it up for you.” 

“You won’t.” 

“Not sure Andrew agrees with that,” he said, grinding his teeth a bit. He thought of Andrew touching you, the way he held you, kissed your head, they way he must kiss other parts of you… 

“Andrew’s being a jackass,” you waved him off. “He’ll come around.” 

“How long have you two…” he trailed off. You frowned. 

“We met during the outbreak,” you said. “Made it to the QZ together…” 

“Is that when…” 

You looked at him, head cocked, confused. It took you a moment to catch up and you laughed, hard. 

“What?” He asked, his turn to be confused now. 

“No, I’m sorry,” you caught your breath. “I’m sorry, I’m still not used to being around people I’m not already around all the time… No, Andrew is not my boyfriend.” 

Joel must not have looked convinced because you kept going. 

“I forget that it must seem odd for people who don’t know us,” you sank back in your chair, beer in hand. “But we’re much more like siblings than anything else. He was 18 when the outbreak happened, I found him in the woods on his own with a broken arm a few days after I left home. I set his arm and he traveled with us. We kept each other alive, saw each other through the absolute worst of it. I’d be dead on the side of the road somewhere in New York State if it wasn’t for him and he’d probably be infected if it weren’t for me. But by the time we got to Boston, we’d gotten so used to needing each other to survive, one of us couldn’t really function without the other. Took a few months before we could sleep apart. We got separate places when the QZ was really getting set up because we realized how we were living probably wasn’t healthy, but we kept doing it, anyway. But no, not the least bit romantic. Or physical. At least, not in that way. We still sleep in the same bed when one of us is overwhelmed or just has a hard day, it’s the only way we can really function. I stayed with him last night, actually. It’s the only reason I slept at all. He’s just… who I have. And I’m who he has. We get each other. We need each other. It’s a bit codependent but…” 

Joel nodded slowly. He got it, in a way. He and Tommy had barely spent 10 minutes apart over the last five years. He had no idea how he’d handle being apart for a day. Even here, he’d be worried about him. Thinking he needed to keep him alive, at least for a while. 

“So do you have… anyone else?” He asked. 

“Are you asking if I have a boyfriend?” Your eyebrows were raised. He just nodded once. You have him a small half smile. 

“No,” you said. “No boyfriends. Been hung up on this ex of mine for a while. Doesn’t make for a great dating life…” 

“Sounds like a fuckin’ fool for letting you go,” he replied.

You shrugged. 

“Well the end of the world kind of happened in there,” you said. “Think he gets a pass.”

He watched you across the table, your hair loose around your face, lips full. It’s not that he hadn’t been with other women since you. He had. If there was someone willing and he had the urge, he wasn’t about to say no. Getting lost in someone else for a bit was one of the few things that made existence worth it anymore. But it had been years since it had been anything but a fleeting escape. It had been since you. 

“Can I get you another beer?” You nodded to his nearly empty glass. He just gave you a nod and you refilled both glasses, moving to your small couch. The Fleetwood Mac album had started over. You gave Joel his glass but walked past him and sat on your couch, one leg crossed over the other. 

“Why do I feel like you’re trying to get me on your couch?” He asked, his eyes roaming over you. You shrugged.

“No one’s making you do a damn thing, Miller.”

He moved to the couch. You are stayed on your side of it, sipping your beer, seemingly happy to just have him close. He reached out and tucked your hair behind your ear, exposing your neck. There were white scars down the side of your throat to your shoulder. He frowned, tracing them. 

“What happened here?” He asked quietly. You set your beer on the small table in front of the couch and glanced at him. 

“That happened a few minutes after the last time we spoke,” you fidgeted with the seam on your jeans. “Nan had turned, pinned me down in my room as I finished getting packed. I’d already grabbed the shotgun thankfully, I had to shoot her to get away.” 

“Oh Baby,” he said softly, pulling you against his chest. You melted into him. “I’m so sorry.” 

You shrugged but pressed yourself closer to him. He enveloped you. You fit against him the same way you always had, like you belonged there. As though he’d been designed to hold you, protect you. But he’d failed at that. You looked up at him. 

“I’m sure we both did a lot of things we aren’t happy with or proud of to get here,” you said quietly. “I wouldn’t have been able to shoot her if not for you. If you’d never called that night, I’d never have gotten the gun. I wouldn’t have known what was happening. I wouldn’t have been able to bring myself to hurt her if I hadn’t been trying to get to you. But you got me here. I’m alive because of you and Andrew. I don’t care what you did to get here, Joel. Only that you got here.” 

He kissed you then, your lips soft and sweet on his. You stretched into his kiss and his tongue dipped into your mouth as he held your body close to his own. His grip grew firmer and your body shifted to align with his, him laying you beneath him, covering you with him. He pulled away from you slightly, searching your eyes. 

“You’ll tell me if I do anything you don’t want,” he said, already breathless. You nodded but bit your lip. “What is it? I can stop, I can go…” 

“No!” You said quickly, eyes going wide. “No, please don’t, I’m just… out of practice. It’s been… a while.” 

He frowned. 

“How long?” 

You blushed a bit.

“Since 2003?” You said it like a question more than an answer. He tried to hide his surprise and brushed your hair back. 

“I’d like to change that,” he said softly. “If you’ll let me.” 

You nodded quickly and his mouth was back against yours. 

He had to fight to go slow with you. It had been so long since he’d been with someone he cared about, so long since he’d wanted someone like he wanted you. But he traced the contours of your body, getting to know you again, what parts of you made you melt into him, what parts made you freeze for a moment. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what caused those moments. He kissed you softly, deeply. It was like coming home, like the world hadn’t ended, like he hadn’t been stupid enough to leave you to begin with. He was right where he was always supposed to be. 

You pulled at his shirt and he took it off. Your fingers ran over his chest, tracing the new scars he’d collected over his years dodging infected and humans alike. You kissed each one gently, your lips staying against each spot on his skin for a moment. 

His fingers found the hem of your shirt. 

“Can I?” He asked. You just nodded. He pulled it up and away, tossing it somewhere near his. You had scars, too. One on your shoulder looked particularly bad. He kissed it before tracing it with his thumb. 

“Bullet graze,” you said softly, sadly. “On my birthday in 03.” 

He kissed it again, his mouth moving down over your shoulder to your breasts, tracing your cleavage with his lips. He reached around behind you, your back arching into him, and he unhooked your bra before gently sliding it off. His memory hadn’t done you justice, you were so much more beautiful than his mind seemed capable of containing. He touched you softly, relearning how your breasts filled his hands, the way your nipples peaked against him. He took one into his mouth, sucking you, holding you as you moaned and ground your hips against his torso. He smiled as he trailed kisses over your chest to your other nipple, sucking you there, too. 

His hands traced over your body, down to your pants. He opened them, kissing back up your chest to your mouth before looking in your eyes. You just nodded and he pulled your jeans and panties down your legs, lifting from you just enough to leave the last of your clothes on the floor. 

He went back to his place between your legs, kissing down your stomach until he reached your slit. Your breath caught and he pressed his lips to your clit, his tongue slipping between to gently tease you until he felt you take a shaky breath against him. 

Joel dipped his tongue into you, tasting you, opening you to him. You moaned, hips working against his face and he smiled against you. He’d forgotten just how damn good it felt to give you pleasure, to make you lose yourself to him. 

He slipped a finger inside you as he sucked your clit, curving it into the place he still knew made you melt and he felt you tighten around him. 

“Joel,” you whimpered and fuck he’d forgotten how good his name sounded on your tongue when you were about to cum. He added a finger, sucked you harder, worked you until he felt you flutter around his fingers, a choking moan slipping from you. 

He’d also forgotten what it was like to be desperate for someone. To want to be inside you so badly he’d shed his skin just for the chance to be inside yours. He was breathless with it, it felt like he’d die for wanting you if he couldn’t have you. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this hard, the last time his whole body ached with need.

You were still coming down from your orgasm when he took off his pants and underwear, leaving them on your floor. Your body was pliant as you panted for breath below him. He ran his fingers over your slit, slick and wanting, collecting your wetness and coating himself in you. He notched his head at your entrance and you moaned, reaching for him. 

“Joel,” you keened. “Please, I need…” 

“I know Baby,” he said softly, sinking into you as you gasped. He could only gain a few inches, you were almost impossibly tight around him. You moaned, rocking your hips against him and he almost collapsed against you. “Just let me inside you Baby, just relax and let me inside you…” 

You whimpered, all but incoherent, and he took you by the hips, holding your in place as he worked his way deeper into you, opening your body to him until he was fully inside you. 

This he hadn’t forgotten. He’d sometimes lived in the memory of just how you felt around him, how you felt like two halves of the same whole, how it seemed like you’d been made for him. It was the only justification he could find for anything feeling quite as good, quite as right, as being inside you. His head fell to your chest and he panted for breath, desperate to move but desperate to never pull back from you. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you were gasping, your fingers in his hair. “God, I missed you. I missed you so much, I love…” 

He cut you off with a kiss, pulling himself back from you just enough to thrust forward again, pushing all the way inside you with every stroke, needing to be fully inside you as much as he could. 

“Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered and you rushed to obey. He picked you up - buried deep inside you - and moved you to your bed. His movements became harder, more insistent, your body tightening around him with every stroke. 

“Joel,” you moaned. He wasn’t sure you were even fully aware of what you were saying, your fingers digging into his back, your pussy tightening around him. “Please, need to feel you…” 

He kissed you again, pressing into you harder, moving faster until he felt you start to come undone around him and he emptied himself into you, gasping for breath and all but collapsing on top of you. He held himself inside you, both unwilling and unable to move, you feeling too good to ever want to leave. You held him as your breathing eased, your body lax beneath his. 

For the first time in more than five years, it felt like he was home. 

A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this posted! I've been on vacation this week trying really hard to pay attention to my husband and NOT fictional men. This chapter written in part in a poolside cabana on my cell phone this afternoon :)

Now y'all. This chapter has a happy ending and I need you to know... it's not the HEA yet. THERE'S SO MUCH MORE DRAMA COMING GUYS. So much more for them to work through and so much more to have happen - we haven't even met Tess or Ellie yet. But we gotta have little pops of happy in here, right?

As always, thanks so much for reading, reflagging and commenting, I love you all!

[absolutebl]

This week in BL - Gay Boy Turf Wars Galore!

Also, ALL the guest couples: TutorYim & MacNat showed up in Korea. Korea also reused the Love Class pair. And Wayne Song & Huang Chun Chih (H3:MODC) popped up AGAIN. (To be fair, when does Wayne not show up in a Taiwanese BL?)

Entirely subjective yadda yadda. Organized by favs in each category. No numbered lists anymore, tumblr be buggn'.

Aug 2023 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Laws of Attraction (Sat iQIYI) 7 of 8 - Plot reveals galore + all the penultimate tension we could want. (How many different kinds of smiles does Film have in his arsenal?) OMG I LOVE the unhinged idiot bloody tattooed ex bf - intro music and all. He is my precious psycho-bunny-snookums. Also Tinn, baby-boy, communicating about your honest feelings in a BL? What madness is this? I sense doom incoming. Smart Chan, always tell him he’s better in bed than your ex. The sides getting caught! Noooooo. I mean we knew it would happen but still noooooooo! 

I Feel You Linger in the Air (Sat YT) ep 2 of 12 - I like the surreal slip-stream dream-sequence openings. Is it a cerebral examination of temporal paradox or just designed to creep us out? The pace has picked up a bit and I'm delighted that external threat, stressors, and conflict are driving this plot. Refreshing. I love historicals - every touch and action can have such lingering significance, it’s very elegant. Thai BLs can often feel clumsy but not this one. I’m really enjoying it. 

Dangerous Romance (Fri YT) ep 2 of 12 - Sailom is great. I love a smartass who’s actually really smart, reminds me of Bai Luo Yin in Addicted. (The real Addicted.) Never a bad thing. Kang is nasty bit of business, I look forward to his redemption arc. I love his grandma. (BL is giving good grandma right now.) Nicely executed narrative twist into sympathy too: rich kid sees how rough life really is. The complexity of character depth needed for this script makes me so happy it's Perth & Chimon, they both have such expressive nuanced faces.

I do keep wanting to rewatch LBC tho. 

Only Friends (Sat YT) ep 3 of 10 - It remains a blast. Boston is king of red flags, cutting down Ray because he is the easiest punching bag? Going after his friend's bf just to prove he can? No thank you. I know Ray is lovely when he’s soft but danger zone, Sand. Be careful upon entering a minefield, every little step forward may cause an explosion. I don’t think being master of snark is gonna help you avoid getting blown up.

Sand is the one I feel the worst for - bi guy strays into cesspit of gay toxicity. He ain’t gonna make it out alive.  

Hidden Agenda (Sun GMMTV YouTube) ep 7 of 10 - The boyfriends date ep! Zo’s past explains a lot about his behavior. Flirty Zo is v dangerous to all our hearts. Nice kiss. Poor Joke. Meanwhile, the side couple gave good kiss too! However, why is Title playing the bad guy again? Did GMMTV bring him in just to be resident jerk face in all their BL? Makes me sad.

Be Mine Super Star (Mon Viki) ep 8 of 12 - This should be a 8 or 10 ep show, 12 is too many. I think I just don’t like the lead couple's character dynamic and personalities. (No shade on JaFirst.) Side couple went startlingly high heat allasudden. And while their sex scene was good, I wish Daddy and the Hot Doc were being given a lot more script, screen time, and character dev. Sigh. I guess I just wish they were the mains and the others were the sides.

Can't have everything, I suppose.  

Wedding Plan (Wed YT & iQIYI) ep 6 of 7 - Nuea is a saint and next week everything comes to a head (that didn’t already get head this episode). Trash watch here!

Love in Translation (Sat iQIYI) ep 2 of 10 - The side couple is everything. They are so cute and my favorite trope. Plus hugs with neck kisses! I love big brother using his adorable boyfriend to try and help his annoying little brother’s business. It’s just perfect. Unfortunately, that annoying little brother, is too fucking annoying. I remain largely unable to watch the main story arc. 

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) 1 of 24 eps - Sampler pack BL, 12 pairs, each pair gets 2 eps, so this show will run all the way into 2024.

First installment is Casanova Begins. Dead boy wakes up in his enemy’s body, 2 years after his own death. Has to make things right with the boyfriend who thinks he was abandoned. Everyone has secrets. No one can be trusted. And the dead kid can never tell anyone who he really is. It’s … different? Unique take on the My Ghost Boyfriend trope.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Jun & Jun (Korea Thur Viki) ep 6 of 8 - Random moment of TutorYim. Hi cuties. Simon is my favorite, I love him and his flirty irreverent ways.

Who does he actually like?

Or is he just flirting with everyone?

Can he have a crush on anyone but himself?

He’s a house cat among the pigeons. Clearly wouldn't know what to do with the bird if he managed to catch it. Or would he?

The 4 boys dodging around each other and re-shuffling is so funny. I can’t tell you how delighted this show makes me. I do feel sorry for Lee Jun, he’s just the toy everyone wants to play with. I understand his frustration, do any of them really want him or is it all because the others are interested? Kiss! Yay! Good kiss! Even more yay! 

Stay By My Side (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 9 of 10 - Poor baby doesn’t think he’s good enough and is holding JC back. They are THE CUTEST BOYFRIENDS. It hurts. The sappy. 

Kisseki: Dear to Me (Taiwan Tues Viki & iQIYI) eps 1-2 of 13(?) - From screenwriter Lin Pei Yu (We Best Love, H3: Trapped) formerly known as Miracle, features a student doctor forced to take care of a gangster. I love the premise and like the writer. This one could be sad. Never forget Taiwan will go there.

Shall we get tucked in?

Gay boy turf wars! Main couple is cute. Sunshine gangster (turns out to be a sweetie who cooks) meets broken brilliant tsundere student who wants to be a doctor. Side couple is the leader of the gang and his rabid Pet. Also, all praise the guest couple de jour (baddies). Nice to see you 2... again. All actors are clearly having a blast with this script.

Triggers for knife play, child abuse, lingering trauma. 

Love Class Season 2 (Korea Fri Viki) eps 5-6 of 10 - Aw guest couple from Love Class original, that is very sweet. The tutor and returning student, aka couple 3, are the best. So funny. But the whole thing remains engaging in a messy way.

Why R U? (Korea Wed iQIYI) eps 1-2 of 8 - Oh, it’s very odd. Certainly a lot more comprehensible if you've already watched the Thai version. As with that version, I still dislike the SaifahZon couple and love the FighterTutor couple. And once again I hate the weird IRL shipping sister. HATE HER. I’m not mad at the "Man who Fell into the World of BL" overtones but I wish they went at it more intentionally. (They’re not using NPC the way I would, are they? Cause that’s hella cruel.) MaxNat are fun. I love that Fighter went to his girlfriend's birthday party, didn’t even say hi to her, picked up her drunk bestie, and took him home.

This show is WILD. It’s very Korea tries to do a Thai BL. And, I gotta say, I kind of like the absurdity of the whole scheme. Do I think it will ultimately "work" as a stand alone piece? No. But as a very odd kind of parody? Sure.

Minato's Laundromat Season 2 AKA Minato Shouji Coin Laundry Season 2 (Japan Thu Gaga) ep 7 of 12 - Truth always comes out in hot springs. It's a rule of life. Coming clean is coming clean, I suppose. Still, moving very slowly for me and I need sake to get through this season. It's certainly suffering from sophomore slump.

Stay Still (Hong Kong Tues YouTube) ep 4 of 5 - Sad episode is sad. 

In case you missed it

My Personal Weatherman AKA Taikan Yoho (Japan Sat Gaga) ep 3 of 8 - didn't air this week

Dinosaur Love (Sun iQIYI) ep 9 of 10 eps - Didn’t drop this week? MDL thinks it should have. Everyone is confused. But also… who cares? 

Low Frequency (Thai iQIYI) Finished it's run - NO SINGING as flirty boyfriends they very cute actually, but this final ep was V E R Y slow.

All in all this was not a great show. Classic pulp with an interesting twist on “ghost boyfriend investigates his own not-murder” but ultimately not very good in any arena. 6/10 Only if you have nothing better to do. 

Sing My Crush (Korea iQIYI) Finished it's rerun

This a cute coming of age drama around music and 2 kinds of self acceptance and actualization journeys. This was basically Korea’s version of About Youth, and was perhaps a bit too soft and ungrounded by comparison, like a marshmallow sculpture. Sweet but somewhat lacking in discernible flavor. Inoffensively unmemorable. 8/10 RECOMMENDED especially if you enjoy KBL's style

8/24 Man Suang (Thailand movie, domestic cinema release) - historical drama about Thai burlesque with KP’s MileApo. Do I know where to get it? Nope. Do I care? Nope.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Coming September

I have 4 on my radar:

9/2 Naughty Babe (Thailand Sat ????) - MaxNat back on our screens. We think iQIYI but aren't confident.

9/15 You Are Mine (Taiwan ????) - it's taking over from Stay By My Side so likely Gaga. Secretary has to deal with grumpy boss.

9/26 I Cannot Reach You AKA I Can't Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai (Japan ????) - Adapted from the manga, childhood best friends: The cool, smart one who’s good at everything, and his average, dorky friend who struggles. Always by the other’s side, but not together in the way they truly want to be. No matter how hard they try, their hearts cannot reach each other.

9/27 Absolute Zero (Thai iQIYI) - from 2021, Studio Wabi Sabi and New Siwaj finally bring us this “time loop to prevent tragedy” romance. We don’t always get HEAs from them, so I'm on my guard.

9/?? Venus in the Sky (Thai iQIYI) 10 eps - ????

2023 forthcoming BL master post (see comments, some are inaccurate, NOT KEPT UPDATED).

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

No you aren't, Lom. You don't even know what that means. (Wedding Plan)

Minato comes out to the best person.

Trope spotlight! (Low Frequency)

I Fell You Linger in the Air

So true. (Only Friends)

I love them so much, as @heretherebedork would put it, Tiny Idiots!

(Last week) 

Gotta say I am hating this new UI so much I'm not bothering to tag with shows. We shall see what that does for ROI.

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me Final🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - get some tissues..

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 24

In time, it became evident that he was letting his health go. His behavior at times was deliberately self-destructive. On a few occasions he’d say, “I’ll never make it much beyond forty.” We’ve all made such statements, but with Matt the thought was deep-seated and chronic. Mary Lou had died at forty-two and, like Mary Lou, he wanted to go before his father, sensing that he himself couldn’t bear another loss.

From time to time, I’d hear that he had checked into the hospital. Concerned, I’d call, asking, “Are you all right?”

“Sure,” he’d say, laughing a little to show me it was all a big joke. “I just need a little rest, Sattnin.” Then I realized he’d gone to the hospital for the same reason he had during his Army days. It was his way of taking a little rest; he needed to get out of Graceland and away from all the pressures.

By 1976 everyone was becoming alarmed over his mental state as well as his physical appearance. His face was bloated, his body unnaturally heavy. The more people tried to talk to him about this, the more insistent he became that everything was all right.

The Colonel was even concerned about Matt’s actions while onstage. Matt started forgetting lyrics and resorting to sheet music. He was acting erratic by ignoring the audience and playing to the band. A few shows were canceled and no one could predict whether or not he’d appear onstage.

In the absence of any significant professional challenge, Matt created his own real-life dramas. His fascination with guns was now an obsession. He became paranoid over death threats, and from his association with the Boston local police, he had access to lists of local drug pushers. He felt he personally should get them off the streets. Phoning me late one evening, he said, “y/nn, you have anyone you want taken care of? Strictly top secret.”

The style, grace, and pride that for the past eight years had been the hallmark of a Sturniolo live performance now bordered on self-parody. Frustrated with the lack of challenge of each passing show, Matt resorted to sheer flamboyance, symbolized by his costumes, each more elaborate than the one before, loaded with an overabundance of fake stones, studs, and fringes. There were voluminous capes and cumbersome belts to match. He was performing in garb that added thirty-five pounds to his weight. It was as if he were determined to upstage himself instead of relying on his raw talent.

There were times in his final year that he would be criticized on how he related to his audience. Some people observed that he joked around with his band too much and left his songs unfinished. Once Matt even complained from the stage about “bad management” at the hotel, citing a certain employee at the Hilton who was being fired. The following day Colonel William asked Matt to stick to his own business—entertaining—and let the hotel handle its help. James tended to take Matt’s side on this as on every issue, but the Colonel had a right to be concerned.

One of the guys actually told Matt he was beginning to look more like a Liberace act in the hope that Matt would take the hint and come to his senses and rely on just his talent. But from the beginning Matt had insisted: “I just want to read positive reviews. I don’t want to hear any negativity.” As a teenager he’d been shielded by Mary Lou from criticism. When she’d filled her albums and scrapbooks, she’d used only the favorable clippings. If he hadn’t been so sheltered, he might have had a better perspective on his career. At least he’d have been aware of what was being written about him and possibly used some of the comments constructively.

No matter what he did, his fans still cheered him on. They were faithful to him through good performances and bad, and eventually their love was the only real gratification he received. They endorsed everything he did. Maybe as long as he was getting their cheers, he thought he was doing fine. But in fact Colonel William was right when he told Matt that he’d better get himself straightened out or his whole career would go down the drain.

His personal life was not helping the situation. He was seeing Ginger Alden, who was twenty years his junior, and the difference in their ages was becoming more and more of a problem. He’d say, “I’m tired of raising kids. I don’t have the patience to go through it all over again.” There were conflicts—many. Ginger did not like touring, one-night stands. She was close to her family and didn’t want to leave them. Matt tried bringing half her family with them, but that only created other problems. “She spends more time with her sister and mother than she does with me,” he complained.

In discussing his dilemma, I asked, “Do you think you can really live with just one woman?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Now more than ever. I know I’ve done some stupid things, but the stupidest was not realizing what I had until I lost it. I want my family back.”

I wondered if there was some way we could make it work. “Maybe it was just too early in life for us, Sattnin,” I said. “Maybe one day there will be a time for us.”

“Yeah,” Matt laughed. “When I’m seventy and you’re sixty. We’ll both be so old we’ll look really silly, racing around in golf carts.”

In April 1977 Matt fell ill and had to cancel his tour and return home to Graceland. Charlotte and I were there visiting Dodger. He called me up to his room. He did not look himself; his face and body were bloated. He was wearing pajamas, which he seemed to prefer these days when at home. He held Cheiro’s Book of Numbers and told me there was something he wanted me to read. His curiosity for answers had not abated. He was still searching for his purpose in life, still feeling he had not found his calling. If he had found a cause to espouse, whether a drugless society or world peace, he would have had the role he sought in life. His generosity was evidence of this part of his nature—his legendary penchant for giving, even to the countless people he didn’t know.

But he never found a crusade to pull him out of his cloistered world, a discipline strong enough to counter his escape into drugs. That night he read to me, searching for answers, just as he had done the year before and the year before that and the years before that.

It was August 16, 1977, overcast and dreary, not a typical Southern California day. When I walked outside, there was a stillness, an unnatural calm in the air that I have not experienced since. I almost went back into the house, unable to shake my uneasiness. I had a meeting that morning and by noon I was racing to meet my sister Michelle. On my way into Hollywood I noticed the atmosphere had not changed. It still seemed unusually silent and depressing and it had begun to drizzle. As I drove down Melrose Avenue, I saw Michelle standing on the corner, a look of concern on her face. “y/nn, I just got a call from Dad,” she said as I pulled up. “Nate’s been trying to reach you. It’s something about Matt in the hospital.” Nate Doe was Matt’s road manager and right-hand man. I froze. If he was trying to reach me, something must be terribly wrong. I told Michelle to take her car and quickly follow me home. the hospital all year; there were times when he wasn’t even sick that he’d check in for a rest, to get away from pressures, or just out of boredom. It had never been anything too serious.

I thought about our daughter, Charlotte, who was visiting Matt at Graceland and was supposed to come home that very day. Oh God, I prayed. Please let everything be all right. Don’t let anything happen, please, dear God.

I ran every red light and nearly hit a dozen cars. At last, I reached home, and as I swerved down the driveway, I could hear the phone ringing from inside the house. Please don’t hang up, I prayed, jumping out of the car and running toward the door. “I’m coming,” I yelled. I tried to get my key in the lock, but my hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Finally I got into the house, grabbed the receiver, and yelled, “Hello, hello?”

All I could hear was the hum of a longdistance line, then a stricken, faint voice, “y/nn. It’s Nate.”

“What’s happened, Nate?”

“It’s Matt.”

“Oh, my God. Don’t tell me.”

“y/nn, he’s dead.”

“Nate, don’t tell me that. Please!”

“We’ve lost him.”

“No. NO!” I begged him to take back his words. Instead, he was silent. “We’ve lost him—” His voice broke and we both began to cry. “Nate, where’s Charlotte?” I asked.

“She’s okay. She’s with Grandma.”

“Thank God. Nate, send a plane for me, please. And hurry. I want to come home.”

As I hung up, Michelle and Mother, who had just arrived, embraced me and we cried in each other’s arms. Within minutes the phone rang again. For a moment I hoped for a miracle; they were calling me back to tell me that Matt was still alive, that it was all right, that it had all been a bad dream.

But there were no miracles. “Mommy, Mommy,” Charlotte was saying. “Something’s happened to Daddy.” “I know, Baby,” I whispered. “I’ll be there soon. I’m waiting for the plane now.”

“Everybody’s crying, Mommy.”

I felt helpless. What could I say to her? I couldn’t even find words to comfort myself. I feared what she would be hearing. She didn’t yet know that he had died. All I kept saying over and over was, “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Try to stay in Grandma’s room, away from everyone.” In the background I could hear a grief-stricken James moaning in agony. “My son’s gone. Dear God, I’ve lost my son.”

Fortunately a child’s innocence provides its own protection. Death was not yet a reality to her. She said she’d go out and play with Laura, her friend.

I hung up and walked around in a daze, still numb with shock. The news hit the media instantly. My phones did not stop ringing, with friends trying to cope with the shock, members of the family grasping for explanations, and the press demanding statements. I locked myself in the bedroom and left instructions that I would not speak to anyone, that I wanted to be alone. In fact, I wanted to die. Love is very deceiving. Though we were divorced, Matt was still an essential part of my life. Over the last years we’d become good friends, admitting the mistakes we’d made in the past and just beginning to laugh at our shortcomings. I could not face the reality that I would never see him alive again. He had always been there for me. I depended on him, just as he depended on me. We had a bond: We’d become closer and had more understanding and patience for each other than in our married life. We had even talked of one day  . . . And now he was gone. I remembered our last phone conversation, just a few days before. His mood had been good as he talked about the twelve-day tour he was about to begin. He even laughed when he told me that, as usual, the Colonel had papered the first city they were scheduled to hit with his posters and that his records were being played constantly in advance of his arrival.

“Good old Colonel,” Matt had said. “We’ve come a long way. He’s still puttin’ out that same old stuff. It’s a wonder people are still buying it.”

I loved hearing Matt laugh, something he had been doing less and less. Just days before that last call, I’d heard that his spirits were down and he was contemplating breaking up with Ginger Alden, his girlfriend. I knew him well enough to realize that this was not an easy move for him to make. If only I’d known that would be the last time I’d talk to him, I’d have said so much more: things I wanted to say and never had, things I’d held inside me for so many years because the timing was always wrong.

He had been a part of my life for eighteen years. When we met, I had just turned fourteen. The first six months I spent with him were filled with tenderness and affection. Blinded by love, I saw none of his faults or weaknesses. He was to become the passion of my life.

He taught me everything: how to dress, how to walk, how to apply makeup and wear my hair, how to behave, how to return love his way. Over the years he became my father, husband, and very nearly God. Now he was gone and I felt more alone and afraid than ever in my life.

The hours went by slowly before Matt’s private plane, the Charlotte Grace, arrived. Behind closed doors I sat and waited, remembering our life together—the joy, the pain, the sadness, and the triumphs—from the very first time I heard his name.

We boarded the Charlotte Grace around nine o’clock that evening, just my parents, Michelle, Jerry Schilling, Amber Doe, and a few close friends. At first, I just sat alone, in despair. Then I went to the back of the plane, to Matt’s bedroom. I lay there, unable to believe that Matt was really dead.

I remembered the jokes Matt used to make about dying. He’d say, “It’d really take something for me to leave this earth.” Yet he wore a chain around his neck that had both a cross and a Star of David on it. He would joke about it, saying he wanted to be covered in all areas, just in case.

He’d had a fear of flying, but he never showed it. Matt never showed any of his fears. He felt he had a responsibility to make everyone else feel secure. So he gave the impression he was self-assured, because he didn’t want to let any of us down.

I thought of a time when we were on a flight home from Los Angeles. There was a lot of turbulence, and the plane was shaking badly. Everyone on board was frightened. Everyone but Matt. When I looked at him, he was smiling, and then he took my hand.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re gonna make it.” Suddenly, I felt safe. There was a certainty about Matt. If he said it was going to be, then it was going to be that way.

The trip seemed endless. By the time we reached Boston, I was numb. We were ushered into a waiting limousine, to avoid the crush of photographers. Then we sped off to Graceland, where we were met by frantic, disbelieving faces: relatives and close friends, the maids—the same people who had been around us for so many years. I had spent most of my life with these people and seeing them now was devastating.

Most of Matt’s close family—James, Grandma, her daughters, Delta and Nash, and others—congregated in Grandma’s room, while his friends, and the guys who worked for him, were mostly gathered in the den. Everyone else seemed to just be walking in and out of the rooms, silent and solemn, glancing around in disbelief.

Charlotte was outside on the lawn, with a friend, riding around on the golf cart that her father had given her. At first I was amazed that she was able to play at a time like this, but when I talked to her, I realized that the full impact of what happened hadn’t hit her yet. She’d seen the paramedics rushing Matt away, and he was still at the hospital when I’d arrived, so Charlotte was confused.

“Is it true?” she asked. “Is my daddy really gone?”

Again, I was really at a loss for words. She was our child. It was difficult enough for me to believe and confront Matt’s death myself. I just didn’t know how to tell her that she would never see her daddy again.

I nodded, then took her into my arms. We hugged and then she ran out and started riding around in her golf cart again. But now I was glad she could play. I knew it was her way of avoiding reality.

The night seemed endless. Several of us sat around the dining room table talking, and it was then that I learned the circumstances of Matt’s death. I was told that Matt had played racquetball with his cousin, Billy Smith, until four o’clock that morning, while Billy’s wife, Jo, and Matt’s girlfriend, Ginger, watched them. Then they all presumably retired for the night. But as Ginger slept, Matt stayed up to read. He called down to his Aunt Delta for some ice water and said he was having a hard time sleeping.

Matt was still reading when Ginger woke up at nine o’clock that morning, and then she went back to sleep until about 1 p.m. When she awoke, Matt was not in bed. She found him lying face down on his bathroom floor.

Ginger called downstairs, and Al Strada and Nate Doe came running up. After calling the paramedics, Nate gave Matt CPR until they arrived. As the paramedics were leaving to rush Matt to the hospital, his personal physician, “Dr. Joe,” arrived and rode in the ambulance, working on Matt all the way to Baptist Memorial. There the staff tried for another half an hour to revive Matt, but it was all futile. He was pronounced dead on arrival of heart failure. James then requested an autopsy. The body was taken to the Boston Funeral Home to be prepared for viewing in Graceland the following day.

As I sat listening to the events leading up to Matt’s last hours, I became more and more disturbed. There were so many questions. Matt was seldom left alone for any length of time.

Suddenly I knew I had to be alone. I went upstairs to Matt’s private suite, where we had spent so much of our life together. The rooms were more orderly than I’d expected. Many of his personal belongings were gone; his nightstand was bare of books.

I went into his dressing room and it was as if I could sense his living presence—his own unique scent filled the room. It was an eerie sensation.

From the dining room window I could see thousands of people out on Matt Sturniolo Boulevard waiting for the hearse that would bring his body back to Graceland. His music filled the air as radio stations throughout the nation paid tribute to the King.

Soon the casket was placed in the entrance hall and opened for viewing. I sat in Grandma’s room most of that afternoon as thousands of mourners from all over the world passed by, paying their last respects. Many wept; some men and women even fainted. Others lingered at the casket, refusing to believe it was him. He was truly loved, admired, and respected.

I waited for the right moment for Lisa and me to say goodbye. It was late that evening, and Matt had already been moved to the living room where the funeral was to be held. It was quiet; everyone had left. Together we stood over him, emotional. “You look so peaceful, Sattnin, so rested. I know you’ll find happiness and all the answers there.” Then I joked, “Just don’t cause any trouble at the Pearly Gates.” Charlotte took my hand and we placed a sterling silver bracelet depicting a mother and child’s clasped hands on his right wrist. “We’ll miss you.” I knew my life would never be the same.

Colonel came to the funeral wearing his usual baseball hat, shirt, and slacks. He disguised his emotions as best he could. Matt had been like his own son. From the old school, the Colonel was considered a coldhearted businessman, but in truth he had stayed faithful and loyal to Matt, even when his career began to slip. This day he asked James to sign a contract extending his position as Matt’s manager. He was already planning ways to keep Matt’s name before the public. He acted quickly, fearful that with Matt gone, James would be too distraught to handle correctly the many proposals and propositions that would be in the offing. James signed.

At the service, Charlotte and I sat with James and his new fiancée, Sandy Miller, Dodger, Delta, Patsy, my parents, Michelle, and the rest of the family. George Hamilton was there. Julia Ernst attended with her husband, Roger Smith. Julia expressed her sympathy so sincerely I felt a genuine bond with her.

J.D. and the Stamps Quartet sang Matt’s favorite gospel songs. James had chosen the preacher, a man who hardly knew Matt and spoke mostly of his generosity. Matt would probably have laughed and told his dad, “Couldn’t you have got a comedian or something?” Matt would not have wanted us to grieve.

After the service we drove to the cemetery, Charlotte and I riding with James and Sandy. It was three miles away and for the whole three miles both sides of the street were lined with mourners, and at the cemetery there were thousands more. The pallbearers—Jerry Schilling, Nate Doe, George Klein, Steven Wright, Billy Smith, Charlie Hodge, Dr. Joe, and Gene Smith—carried the casket to the marble mausoleum where Matt was finally laid to rest. There we held a short ceremony and, one by one, walked to the coffin, kissed or touched it, and spoke a few words of farewell. Shortly after, for security reasons, he was moved to Graceland in the meditation garden, his final resting place.

Before Charlotte and I returned to L.A., James called me to his office. He was overwhelmed with grief. Did I know anything that would help him to understand why his son had died? He never fully accepted it, and I believed his pain led to his own death, just as Grandma later never recovered from James’s death.

When Charlotte and I returned home I was torn, trying to decide what was best for her. Many conflicting stories were coming out in the national publications and I knew these could have a lasting negative effect on her memory of her father. I decided to send her to summer camp. There she could be protected from radio, TV, and newspapers and could be with her many friends, including Debbie and Cindy, Nate and Amber’s children.

By the time she returned, I’d already made plans with Michelle for a long trip to Europe. Anything to get away from the constant reminders that filled the media.

Matt’s death made me much more aware of my own mortality and that of the people I loved. I realized I’d better start sharing a lot more with the people that I cared about, and every moment that I had with my child or my parents became more precious.

I learned from Matt, often—sadly—from his mistakes. I learned that having too many people around can sap your energies. I learned the price of trying to make everyone happy. Matt would bestow gifts on some, making others jealous, often creating rivalries and anxieties within the group. I learned to confront people, and to face issues—two steps Matt had avoided.

I learned to take charge of my life. Matt had been so young when he became a star that he was never able to handle the power and money that accompanied his fame. In many ways, he was a victim, destroyed by the very people who catered to his every want and need. He was a victim, too, of his image. His public wanted him to be perfect while the press mercilessly exaggerated his faults. He never had the chance to be human, to grow up to be a mature adult, to experience the world outside his artificial cocoon.

When Matt Sturniolo died, a little of our own lives was taken from each of us who knew and loved Matt Sturniolo, who shared in his music, his films, who followed his career. His passion was entertaining his friends and fans. His audience was his true love. And the love Matt and I shared was a deep and abiding one.

He was, and remains, the greatest influence in my life.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - sad endings actually kill me. i cried multiple times. thank you so much for all the love & support on this story i really enjoyed it. let me know what kind of writing you would like to see next🎀

[potionsprefect]

Stickler For The Rules

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Date night looks a little different for Ethan and Victoria

Rating: General Audiences

Category: Fluff

Having opted to stay in this evening for date night, Victoria wondered what Ethan had planned. He always suggested fun ideas but Victoria usually found herself out exploring Boston. This time, she was in her own home.

The meal was delicious having opted for a spaghetti bolognaise, there was just the right amount of flavour in the meal. It was definitely better than going out and spending a lot of money. Whilst the Ramsey’s weren’t struggling for money, they still liked to spend it wisely.

The deal this time was that Ethan would choose the meal and Victoria would choose the activity afterwards. Ethan thought that would mean going to the bedroom, however Victoria had other ideas.

She had found the Monopoly board game in a toy shop in the city centre and knew she had to instantly buy it. Victoria hadn’t played the game in years but she thought now would be the time to start introducing Ethan to some childhood memories. She kept it in her part of the wardrobe until she had a good opportunity to bring it out. Tonight was the perfect night and Victoria couldn’t wait to show Ethan what she had bought.

“I think it’s time to stop leaving you in suspense.” Victoria winked.

“I don’t even think you’re planning what I want you to plan. But I want to be proven wrong.” Ethan said.

“I think you’ll like it either way.” Victoria got up and headed into the bedroom. She got the game out and headed back to the living room.

Ethan laughed when he saw what was in her hand. “You really know how to excite me.”

“It doesn’t take much, let’s be honest.”

“Why Monopoly? Where did you find one and how much did it cost?”

“A shop in the city. They did all different kinds of old board games and I thought it would be fun.”

Victoria set up the game in front of them. It was just like reliving her childhood. She loved seeing all the pieces and cards and the board game had that familiar smell of a Sunday evening as she knelt on the floor and played with her family.

“Do you remember how to play?” Ethan asked with amusement in his eyes.

“Of course. This was a tradition in my house. It’s like I’ve played it all the time. I haven’t for years, but hopefully I’ve still got it. It was always fun as a kid.” Victoria smiled.

Ethan took ahold of the instructions. “Well to be sure, let’s read through the instructions.”

“Oh Ethan-“

“No no. If we’re going to play, we’re going to play it properly. No cheating and definitely no bending the rules. I don’t want any Clarke tactics.” Ethan replied.

“I’m a Ramsey now. Or did you forget?” Victoria held her hand up, her rings glistening in the living room light.

“Never forget. But I know where these tactics came from. And they’re not allowed in the Ramsey house.” Ethan said.

Victoria rolled her eyes. “Fine. Have it your way then.”

It took Ethan around 10 minutes before he finally got through the instructions booklet, Victoria decided that he had deliberately read it out to annoy her as she got up halfway through to make a drink and he followed her to the kitchen.

Victoria started the game. It took a while to get going for both her and Ethan but they were soon laughing once they got into it. Victoria took great delight in counting the money that was dished out. It was something she did as a child and she loved doing it as an adult.

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” Ethan chuckled.

“I am. But it’s all part of the fun. I wonder if there are any other versions.” Victoria grabbed her laptop.

“Do we really need more than one?” Ethan asked.

“You can get lots of different versions! Or maybe we should buy more games. Maybe I’ll get you into chess.” Victoria laughed.

“Hell will freeze over before I do that.” Ethan said.

“What about checkers? Or trivial pursuit? Dominos? How about marbles! I used to have a set as a child and I loved building them.”

“I have a feeling our bank account is going to be taking a hit.” Ethan laughed.

“It’ll be worth it. We’ll have fun. That’s all that matters.”

And for the next few weeks, Ethan and Victoria found new games to try. These ranged from battleships to cards and marbles to checkers. At times, it was a lot more fun than going out.

Nights out turned into nights in. They would order a pizza and have a bottle of wine. It was certainly less expensive, although Ethan would disagree given how much they had spent on new games. He did insist on making sure that all the rules were followed and there would be no changing them under any circumstances.

“Cards against humanity? Wherever do they come up with these ideas?” Ethan said.

“They do different versions of this one too. You’re not gonna like some of these answers.” Victoria laughed.

He found out he didn’t. Ethan much preferred chess. At least he could be taught how to play that. He much preferred marbles although grumbled every time his one lost.

“I think we’ve exhausted the world with every game possible.” Ethan collapsed on the sofa one evening after a long game of Pictionary.

“I still can’t believe you agreed to that one. That took some persuasion.” Victoria giggled.

“Anything to make you smile.” Ethan laughed.

“All in a days work. I can’t believe you’re that tired. Maybe I didn’t work hard enough?” Victoria wondered.

“Oh you did work hard. Although, I know another activity that will tire us both out.” Ethan grabbed Victoria.

“Oh yeah? And what would that activity entail?” Victories grinned.

“Why don’t you let me show you?” Ethan said.

And he picked up his wife and carried her to the bedroom, her laughter ringing out throughout the house.

If Ethan is going to play a game, he’s going to take it seriously lol

Tag list: @ohchoices @swiftiexstarwarssimp @queencarb @genevievemd @choicesaddict5 @schnitzelbutterfingers @gryffindordaughterofathena @sophxwithers @romewritingshop @coffeeheartaddict2 @mm2305 @nikki-2406 @maurine07 @nishas-paradise @replayfootsteps @mainstreetreader @lsvdw-blog @kiara-36 @quixoticdreamer16 @headoverheelsforramsey @shanzay44 @itsjustamesshonestly @josiesopenheart @mysticalgalaxysstuff @custaroonie @ireneadlerisseggsy @takemyopenheart @kachrisberry @rookiemartin @jamespotterthefirst @a-crepusculo @natureblooms24 @jerzwriter @wanderingamongthewildflowers @rosebudde @lucy-268 @liaromancewriter @bex-la-get @writer-ish @toadfrog26 @tessa-liam @peonierose @cariantha @kyra75

[tkachuktkaching]

Tkachuk brothers set for ‘healthy competition’ when Senators host Panthers

Brady of Ottawa, Matthew of Florida to play against one another for 19th time in NHL

The mutual admiration society that is the Tkachuk family will be on display once again Monday.

Matthew Tkachuk and his Florida Panthers visit Brady Tkachuk and the Ottawa Senators at the Canadian Tire Center with each Tkachuk brother and each team hungry for a victory.

The Panthers (12-7-1) have lost two in a row and are six points behind the Boston Bruins for first place in the Atlantic Division. The Senators (8-8-0) are eighth in the Atlantic and trying to keep pace in the race for a wild-card spot in the Eastern Conference.

At this point, though, they are used to high stakes when they face each other in the NHL.

“We are each other’s biggest fan,” older brother Matthew said. “When we play against each other now, especially [being] in the same division, we have to beat each other, our teams have to win. It creates that healthy competition. It’s a very good relationship the two of us have.”

Now in their sixth season of going head-to-head in the best hockey league in the world, the brothers have learned to compartmentalize when they play each other.

They go hard against each other on the ice and it often gets heated. It is also mostly even.

They have played against one another 18 times in the NHL and each has won nine games. Each forward has scored six goals, including one on the power play. Brady has 25 penalty minutes, Matthew 23. Brady 62 shots on goal, one more than Matthew. Brady has a decided advantage in hits (64-31), but Matthew has 20 points to Brady’s 11 (statistics provided by NHL Stats).

Yet, it never spills over off the ice. There, they are staunch supporters of one another, displaying a bond that seems to intensify each season.

“I think he is the smartest player in the NHL,” Brady says. “How he sees the game, I don’t think anybody is up there with how he sees it. I think he is one of the best players in the NHL. I think everybody is finally starting to believe what I believed from Day 1, that he has such an impact and is so good at what he does.”

Matthew, 25, is coming off a run to the Stanley Cup Final last season. He was injured in the Final against the Vegas Golden Knights and the Panthers lost in five games, but Matthew was the unquestioned star for his team in the postseason after an MVP-worthy regular season when he had an NHL career-high 109 points (40 goals, 69 assists).

Brady, 24, was around for some of that playoff run. He showed up for the bigger games and even helped his brother get to the rink for Game 4 after Matthew sustained a broken sternum in Game 3. Matthew played in Game 4 but couldn’t go in Game 5.

“Going into [Game 4], I was a little nervous. What he did in that game, trying to work around it, the pain, not many people can do that,” Brady said. “I was super proud of him sacrificing himself to get the job for his team and the city. “Seeing how happy he made my family and how proud everyone was with what he did with that opportunity, I want that for me too. It created such a motivation. It’s an honor for him to be my brother and to learn from him.”

This season, after spending the offseason recovering from injury, Matthew has 17 points (three goals, 14 assists) in 20 games.

Brady has 15 points (10 goals, five assists) in 16 games and is giving his older sibling a run for personal bragging rights.

“On the ice, I’m probably more powerful, little better skater,” Brady says when asked for a comparison between he and his brother. “I don’t know, everything I do, I want to emulate him and emulate his game. I feel I’m starting to get there, but there’s a long way to go. He’s the perfect person to look up to on the ice.”

Matthew says that Brady already has “a way better” shot than him.

Brady is also the more physical player, each agrees.

“I don’t know if I’m much better than him at on-ice stuff anymore,” Matthew says.

They compete off the ice too, but Matthew is ready to abdicate the crown there on almost every front except one.

“He’s probably like an overall genuinely better person than me, I’m more of a [jokester] than he is, more of an instigator,” Matthew says. “He’s probably overall just a genuinely nicer human being. I will work on that.”

Brady, meanwhile, says he can’t hold a candle to his older brother on the golf course.

“I still kick his [butt] every time we play,” Matthew said, laughing.

Says Brady, “I got to figure that out.”

[st4rgzer]

STICK SEASON matt sturniolo

genre: angst and just a bit of fluff at the end

summary: you have some unfinished business with someone you’ve missed more than you’d like to admit

cw!: self deprecation i think?

a/n: feeling very Noah Kahan ish

I went to Vermont to my parents house in a desperate attempt to find some comfort in anything, my childhood house came close to what I needed, even if the sad pink wallpaper pasted on my wall was peeling off, the bed, rusty, and the springs tired of supporting groups of chatting girls, or the mirror dusty from not having anyone stare into it to do their makeup for a while now, it still brought me a little bit of relief to have proof that I was once in a better place.

But now it was time to go “home” or at least what used to be home, now home has a different meaning. I’ve always struggled with selfishness, always having angry tendencies so I directly remove myself from the situation in order to avoid any nuisance I might provoke. Matt helped me. He saw the good in me as I saw the good in him, showing me that yelling isn’t the only way one can be heard, gentle words, whispers and sighs, worked effortlessly with him, everything envolving him meant being engulfed endlessly in light and sweetness. Now I’m stuck between the anger and the blame I can’t face, I tried to just remove myself from the situation.

“We can fix this please, I can fix this, I can change”

“I know you can, but I can’t be here, I don’t want to watch you destroy yourself, I’m tired of this”

That’s when he just drove off and left our future to the right. Rightfully so, I tend to play the victim, I’m trying to change, for him.

The phone dials again and the familiar voicemail appears, he used to call me forever now he can’t even call me back. I’m in Boston and I don’t think they’re home, but I’m terrified of knocking on their door.

Until I wasn’t. My body suddenly became 10 times heavier as I tried to drag myself to their doorstep, tempted to just run off and catch the next plane to nowhere. But I had to do this, for him, for me.

knock, knock, knock

One, two, three

The door opened and I was greeted with a very surprised Matt, he looked different from when I had seen him last, not in a bad way.

“what are you doing here” He blatantly said, quickly, he realized how brute he’d been and rectified his wording

“-i’m sorry, Hey y/n, what brings you…here?” He furrowed his eyebrows slightly as I began talking, it seemed my voice startled him, after all, it had been some time.

“I wanted to talk to you” I said, trying not to seem too stern. I had a habit of making situations more complicated then they had to be. He sighed and opened the door for me to walk through, the smell of bath and body works candle Nick bought for one of their videos (i’m sorry icba to use the pink sands reference) brought me back to the long movie sessions we’d have on their family couch, Mary Lou would bring us christmas cookies grannies would buy, I bought those last week, they didn’t taste the same.

“so um- long time…” He said walking behind the couch, creating some distance between us. He put his hands in his pockets and pursed his lips, I don’t think he was very happy to see me.

“yeah” I bit my inner cheek. Id come here to talk but I couldn’t seem to find any words right now, I wish it could be like it used to be, I wouldn’t have to say anything, he’d know what was wrong, he’d find the words for me.

“Matt I-” I took a deep breath and tried not to make a joke out of myself. “I know I have no right to show up at your doorstep unannounced, well I did call you but- that’s not the point. I’m sorry, yes that’s what I wanted to say, I’m sorry, and I’m sorry for fucking everything up and showing up in your life again and that’s not fair but I needed you to know I’m not a bad person, I’ve made mistakes and I can’t even say how sorry i am for hurting you in any way possible but I think about you everyday. I mean I see you everywhere, I see you when It rains, I see you when I discover a new song then I remember you recommended it to me, and I mean, I think what we had, what at least I thought we had, was something, you know? Now i see you mother and she doesn’t even remember me.” I inhaled sharply, my words spewing faster than I could breathe. I couldn’t figure out what Matt was thinking, if it was good or bad, well, I think in this situation it couldn’t be very good, one can hope.

A minute of silence passed by, the only sound that filled it was our steady-ish breaths, we looked at each other as if we were having a telepathic argument, however that would work, I thought telling a joke would ease the tension, I missed his laugh, maybe I’d get to hear it once again, but I don’t think i’m funny anymore.

“y/n…” My eyes were wide as I clawed into the couch in anticipation, not knowing if the next hour I would spend crying or whatever the other option was.

"I missed you too" his words were doubtful, he questioned himself, uncertain in wether he meant them or not.

“yes, I missed you. Maybe that’s bad, maybe I’m just a masochist, that, or you’re just engraved in my brain” He chuckled, his laughed remained the same, at least some things are how I remembered.

“so…you don’t hate me?” I said cautiously, analyzing his words in my mind to see if he really said what he said.

“I don’t think so, I’ve never hated you I don’t think. I couldn’t hate you, y/n, even if I tried, and trust me, I tried” His words almost seemed fake as I tried to fathom them, a puzzled look on my face that seemed to amuse Matt.

I nodded, not quite knowing what to respond just yet, or how to continue with the conversation. Figuring out any hidden meaning behind his slight smile, maybe everything was just really in my head, well, at least some part of it.

“I told Mary Lou you were going to be in town, I listened to you voicemails” He paused, looking away, almost embarrassed.

“I was nervous for you to come, I didn’t know how to feel exactly…But I definitely haven’t forgotten about you, the other day Chris accidentally bought two hats online, one was yellow, your favorite colour, is it still you favorite? Well, Nick reminded us”

I smiled. It was weird to hear that my name was thrown around in foreign conversations, I thought it may be a taboo here.

“It is. I’m glad, was Chris able to return the hat?” I said, thinking I sounded stupid to get that from the conversation instead of the important part, I tried to spark conversation.

“I kept it.” He said quietly, I smiled, a feeling of pity lingered in my stomach.

“I know this might be a long shot but, do you maybe want to get lunch, or coffee, or something with me? I’m in town till next week, if you want of course” I said, trying not to fumble my words, hoping to make things work, or just at least leave them a little better.

“sure”

A sudden childish excitement filled me, a feeling I had missed so dearly, a feeling I had when I was with Matt, as I could see.

“ok, text me?” I tilted my head, hopeful, relieved when he nodded. Saying things like this so casually still unsettled me slightly but I’ll try to ignore the feeling.

I guess lunch it is.

taglist: @gaytoadwithapopsicle @dwntwn-strnlo @oneirophobic @20nugs @iha8you @lovelysturniolo @stvrni0lo @ssturniolo @ifilwtmfc @gabbylovesreading @lvrsparadise @strniolo

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) || Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 15a (Dreams) || Chapter 15b (I Sing A Song of Love) || Chapter 15c (You Can Do This If You Try) || Chapter 16 (Let That Feeling Grab You Deep Inside || Chapter 17A: Never Tear Us Apart || Chapter 17B: It’s Tough To Be Somebody, And It’s Hard Not To Fall Apart  || Chapter 17C: I’m Wishing, Lord, That I Was Stoned || Chapter 18: Turn The Page || Chapter 19A: When You're Alone, Do You Let Go? ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 19B: Heading For A Spin

Here I go and I don't know why I spin so ceaselessly Till I lose my sense of gravity

- Patti Smith, “Dancing Barefoot” (1979) [click here to listen]

Pittsburgh || Early October, 1988

Five knocks had been their signal all tour.

He had told her that she could just walk in – that she was always welcome in his dressing room, that nobody else would disturb them. Yet she still didn’t feel comfortable doing that – respecting his space, and the quiet time he needed to collect himself before every show.

Never mind that these days, more often than not Jamie would bolt the door so that they could love each other quickly and quietly before he went on stage.

She was always ready for him – but tonight, when he answered the door, she knew he would need something different.

At about half of the concerts this tour he would wear a simple black tank top with his jeans. For the other half, he’d forgo a shirt entirely. Not that Claire minded either way, though she did love how the tattoo of her name over his heart would be proudly on display for the world to see.

Tonight he had opted for no tank – which is how she quickly noticed the rapid rise and fall of his chest, as he took very quick and shallow breaths. Eyes wide and unfocused, piercing into hers, impossibly blue amid his black eye makeup.

“Jamie,” she breathed, rushing inside and closing the door. “I’m here. Tell me.”

He swallowed, pushing her against the dressing room wall. Hips flush with hers as her cool hand rested over his heart, fingertips tracing her name inked on his body.

“I…” he gaped, then closed his mouth. Breathing deeply. Eyes wild. “I…Claire…”

“I’m here,” she repeated softly. “I love you. Do you love me?”

“Forever,” he choked. Hand fluttering under her Print t-shirt, thumbnail digging into the bone of her hip.

“I’m here, Jamie. I’m not going anywhere.”

He swallowed.

“Let me call Raymond right now. We have his home number for a reason, that’s what he told us when we called last week. We have time before the show. Everybody can wait. You have a phone in here, right?”

He shook his head. "No. Not tonight."

She frowned. “Did you take anything?”

“No,” he replied instantly. “No. No. Definitely no. Wouldn’t do that to you. To us.”

Her fingertips skimmed down the inside of his arm, and his gaze followed. She turned her hand palm upward. “Do you see your letter on me, Jamie? The one you inked yourself, in Boston?”

“Yes,” he breathed. Reached a fingertip to touch the J tattooed below her thumb.

“Focus on that. How much I love you. And do you remember when I inked my letter on you?”

He turned over his hand to proudly show her the C tattooed below his right thumb. “Your touch. Always with me.” He swallowed. “Every note I play, it’s with me.”

“That’s right, Jamie. I’m always with you, and you’re always with me.” She reached up to caress his cheek, smiling at the rasp of his stubble. “We have time. Do you want to love?”

Her hand drifted down across his chest and rested on the belt loops of his jeans. Waiting. Giving him the choice.

He leaned down for a long, slow, sweet kiss.

She felt the tension seep from his body.

“Want to wait to love you tonight,” he whispered against her lips, hips still flush with hers. Teasing. “But only if you can wait, too.”

She nodded, kissing his lower lip. “I can. But I’ll be thinking about it the whole show. How amazing it will be, later. Will you, too?”

He deepened the kiss. “Fuck yes.”

“And not here,” she gasped between kisses. “Back at the hotel. I want to take my time.”

He bit the side of her neck.

Three pounds on the door. Colum’s signal for five minutes until showtime. Because he knew better than to barge in. The one time he had…well, that was enough.

Jamie pulled away only slightly, his body still pressing Claire’s against the wall. He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers. Breathing deeply. Inhaling the scent of her skin.

“What happened?”

He sighed. “One of the fans at the meet and greet told me that I inspired him to get clean. Go to AA. Deal with his shit. He actually thanked me.”

“Oh, my love.” She kissed him. “That’s so wonderful.”

He sought shelter in the safety of her neck. “I fucking did that, Claire. I can’t believe it. It's...it's unreal.”

She nodded, arms winding tight around his shoulders. “You did do that, Jamie. That’s so amazing.”

“He was so fucking happy. So proud. I didn’t know what to say.”

“That’s all right. You don’t need to say anything. Knowing is enough.”

He kissed her collarbone. “I just can't get over it. For all this time, I've only thought that all that shit I used to do could only have one result. That it was all bad. And now it's messing with my head to know that my fuck-ups actually helped someone. Kind of makes me happy in a weird way that all that shit happened, because it helped him.”

She carded her fingers through his hair. “It makes it worth it. Will you promise to tell Raymond about this?”

He nodded. “Yeah. We need to talk with him about this. Not gonna lie, it's fucking with my head a bit. Because I’m nobody’s hero, Claire. Nobody in this world who has any sense should look up to me. I’m an addict, and a musician who just got insanely lucky.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.”

Jamie smiled. Thrust his pelvis into hers. Smiling when she whimpered.

“I think it's impossible that with all the records we've sold, and with all the sold out shows this tour, that only that one person has changed their thinking. So what about..."

He swallowed, a bit unsure. Claire ran her thumb over his cheek.

"Maybe...maybe I do something official. Like, launch a sobriety support program for fans. Encourage them to have sober meet-ups with each other.”

She smiled, ecstatic. “That would be so amazing, Jamie. We should tell Colum - he can get the publicity people on it right away. You’ve got a voice – you should use it.”

Four loud knocks.

“Kiss your bride goodbye, Jamie! Everyone is waiting!” Colum yelled through the door.

Claire smiled. “You’re gonna do so great tonight. I’ll be right there with you.”

Jamie smiled. “I do have a voice, Claire. And I sing for you.”

He darted in for a kiss. And another. And another.

Neither heard the door open, until –

“For fuck’s sake!” Colum screamed. “I said kiss her, not swallow her!”

Jamie pulled away. Light. Happy.

“See you after the show,” she smiled.

“Can’t wait,” he grinned. Slung his guitar over his shoulder. Waited for her to find and pick up her medical bag. Gripped her hand. Led her to the stage.

[luke-hughes43]

she has to be ok | ryan and isla

I'm so sorry for this angst guys. the idea came to me and I had to. and this will have a part 2.

this is the rewrite of it!

*I changed it to match the results of the game and I am so sorry for this guys*

warning: head trauma, concussion, ambulances and hospitals, lots of angst, sad ryan too.

~

the buzzer goes off and boston college lost the national championship to denver. with like 10 seconds left, isla is chasing the puck to get the icing.

all of a sudden, she feels a stick in her back and everything goes black.

there is no call on the play and time winds down. everyone on the bc team is in tears not believing that they lost. ry is bawling not he ice getting comfort form eamon and will, cutter is trying to process what the hell just happened.

no one blinks an eye at isla being down in the corner. everyone assumes she's upset over the loss.

once ry gets up, he grabs cutter and goes over to his girlfriend. he bends down and say, "sparky. it's ok. you did your best baby."

there's no response. he leans down closer and sees her eyes closed. he looks at cut who tries, "hey isla. it's gonna be ok. win or lose we put our best out there."

still no response. eyes still closed. ry freaks out, "GET THE TRAINER!" he yells across the best he can.

pretty quickly all the attention is turned the young gauthier girl, laying on the ice, not moving. ry is freaking out and crying again, "come on isla."

the trainer runs over with coach and she's still out. the trainer says to coach, "I don't know what happened but she's out cold. call an ambulance, fast."

coach nods and gets someone to call the ambulance. ry is holding her hand, trying not to move her and trying not to cry even more. cutter tries again, "isla, it's cut. can you hear me?"

there's no response and she hasn't moved either. ryan pleads, "come on isla, please baby wake up."

eventually, the trainer gets her cage off and ryan rubs her cheek hoping to get a reaction. her eyes move a little and slowly flutter open. there's a lot of light rushing to her eyes and her head is pounding. she mumbles, "ry?"

"hey, I'm right here pretty girl. you're ok isla."

cut chimes in, "hey, I'm here too kid. we got you."

the trainer starts asking her what hurts and she explains, "head. a lot. and my wrists hurt too." she wiggles her fingers and moves her legs. her head and wrists are the only that hurt which is a good sign. the paramedics show up and clear her to sit up.

they ask similar questions about where she is and if she knows what happens. she says, "I think I was hit from behind. I was skating for the puck and everything went black.

she gets cleared to sit up but not stand. they ask, "do you want to stand and skate off or do we need the stretcher?"

"can I try?"

they nod. she tries to stand but stumbles and ends up falling back down. after she stumbles a third time they tell her, "ok, we're getting the stretcher.

as soon as the paramedics were called, will rushed to the locker and got ry and cut there sneakers so they could ditch their skates and go with her.

cut says to ryan, "go with her."

ryan is thoroughly surprised that cut is telling him to growth her rather than going himself. he protests, "but cut, she's your sister. you should go. I can meet you there." cut smiles at the younger boy, "lenny, go with her. she needs you right now. I'll meet you there, bring your clothes. go with her."

ry nods and jumps in with isla to go with her. never letting go of her hand the whole way to the hospital. she weakly mumbles, "ryan?"

"I'm right here isla. it's gonna be ok." he says softly.

they did their best to make it dark in the ambulance and keep the noise to a minimum. she says, "it's hurt ry. a lot."

he softens hearing her voice crack and says quietly, "I know pretty girl. they're gonna make you feel better baby. I love you."

"I love you too ry."

they allowed Isla to take her jersey off so that they didn't cut it. she wanted it to remained unharmed because this is the jersey she set a record in and played with her brother for the last time in. they get to the hospital and a whole team of doctors swarm her.

they take her to get some tests and scans and that's when cutter, eden, will, dani, gabe, and jacob show up. eden instantly hugs ryan and he just breaks down crying.

everyone is feeling for ry and cut. especially because of how close they are, because if you're dating one of them then your dating all of them.

ry explains through his sobs, "they took her for some tests. they said that her being awake and talking and only her head and hand hurting are all good signs so they think it's just a concussion and maybe a broken wrist."

eden says softly, "that's good ry. while she's gone, why don't you get changed and we'll wait for the doctors. and take some deep breathes." ryan just nods and grab the bag from cutter going to the bathroom to get changed. gabe goes with him to make sure he's ok and Jacob and will stay with eden and cutter.

the doctor comes out and says, "family of Isla gauthier?" cutter stands with eden and the doctor comes over. he says to cut and eden, "so she definitely has a broken wrist. when we took her to get a CT scan of her head, she lost consciousness again. right now, it looks like she has a lot of swelling in her brain. she slipped into a coma, and we're planning to keep her in a medically induced one until the swelling goes down. there's no bleeding but a dangerous amount of swelling. what is your relationship to her?"

"I'm her brother. this is my girlfriend. her boyfriend was with her when she came him in but he's changing right now. can we see her?"

"yes. I will have a nurse take you back when you're ready. I'm gonna warn you, she doesn't look the best. she's hooked up to a lot of machines to monitor everything. I recommend only a few visitors at a time as to not overwhelm her for when she wakes up."

cutter shakily says, "thank you." the doctor leaves and eden pulls him in for a tight hug. she holds him tight and hears him mumble, "I gotta call mom and dad." eden nods and waits for ryan to come back.

when they come back, eden sits ryan down to explain what the doctor said. she says softly, "ry sit down."

"what's wrong? I wanna see her. why can't I see her?"

"you'll get to see her but the doctor came out with an update while you were changing. ry, she's in a coma."

"what? no. she can't be. she was talking to me, she just had a headache. she's ok." he starts panicking. eden hugs him and gets him to calm down before further explaining, "they said that she a dangerous amount of swelling in her brain and slipped out of consciousness. they put her in a coma to get the swelling down."

"can I see her? I need to see her."

"me, you, and cut are gonna go right now. just brace yourself ry."

ry nods and they 3 of them follow a nurse into her room. she's hooked up to a bunch of machines and ry instantly sits next to her and holds her hand carefully. he presses a few kisses to it and just sits there quietly.

back in the waiting room, will is holding dani for dear life, gabe is on the phone with kelsey, and jacob goes and calls coach. cut says quietly, "my parents are on the way. I don't know if I'm ready for them to see her. they never wanted her to play and this is why."

"I know cut. we can cross that bridge when we get to it. just sit down and hold her hand. I'll be right here if you need me." eden says softly rubbing his back. he sits and hold isla's other hand. after like an hour, a nurse comes in to run some tests.

as her nurse leaves, their parents and ken come in. her mom says, "how is she?"

"she's in a coma. she hit her head pretty hard and has a broken wrist. there's a lot of brain swelling."

"this is exactly the reason we never wanted her playing hockey cutter. especially with boys."

"I know mom. can we not do this right now?" cut says quietly trying not to cry. their dad then adds on, "this never would've happened if you didn't push her to play cut."

"I didn't push her to play. I pushed her to be herself instead of ken's fucking barbie doll. this is not on me. it was a dirty play, it could've happened to me."

"but it didn't. it happened to her." ken says.

cut takes a deep breath and says, "get out."

"what?" his mom asks on a disgusted tone. cutter snaps, "I said get out. now. your daughter is in a fucking coma from a freak accident and all you can think about is blaming me. she's a second overall pick and is a better hockey player than I'll ever be. all you've done is yell and berate her and tell how disappointed in her hat you are so get out. she doesn't needs this and I certainly don't either. I just played my college game with my baby sister and now she's in a fucking coma. get out and don't come back."

"don't talk to your mother that way cutter."

"I don't give a shit dad. get out."

their parents are appalled at cutter's behavior and leave out of disgust. cutter let's out a deep breathing squeezes isla's hand a few times. eden holds cutter a little tighter and rubs his back. she offers, "do you want me to call rut? or my parents?"

"eden I don't care. I'm not trying to be an asshole but I can't think about anything but her right now." he says softly. eden nods and kisses his head. ryan hasn't moved or said anything since they got in the room.

he's just sitting there holding her hand and trying to hold back the tears. it's not working, they are streaming down his face. he'd give anything to hear her voice right now.

they let eden, cutter, and ryan stay the night in her room. eden curls up on cutter's lap and cutter falls asleep on her shoulder. ry unfortunately, does not fall asleep. he is up all night just watching Isla sleep and the nurses are concerned for him. one of the nurses says, "honey, you need some rest too."

"I can't sleep. not yet at least. I need her to be ok first. I need her to wake up. she's everything to me."

"she's ok. I know she doesn't look it but she is. you seem to care for her a lot." the nurse suggests. ryan nods with a smile, "we've been together for almost a year. I love her so much. we're both drafted to the same team so we'll get to play pro hockey together some day. if she plays again."

"she'll be able to play again if she wants to. I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, all of us nurses having been gushing about you guys. and how cute you are. you've been with her since she got her and won't leave her alone, not letting go of her hand. all of us can see how much you love her."

"thank you." ry slightly smiles.

"but you can't help her and be there for her when she wakes up if you don't care of yourself. just some food for thought."

"I know. I'm trying."

"I know. I'll be back in a bit to check on her. and you." the nurse leaves with a soft, but sad smile and ryan just grips her hand a little tighter watching her sleep. he doesn't even think about sleeping until he knows that she's awake and gonna be ok. which in his mind she will be. she has to be ok, because ryan isn't sure what he'd do without her. she is everything to him and more.