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dr-futbol-blog · 5 months ago

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Runner, Pt. 4

We don't get to see the full gamut of McKay's reaction to the realization that they have lost contact with Sheppard and have no idea what has happened to him. We next join McKay and Lorne inside the puddle jumper, and the fact that it's daylight indicates that some time has passed. They are in radio contact with Atlantis, informing Weir of the situation. Lorne seems to have calmed down some, and being able to get instructions from a superior on Atlantis likely helped with that.

For his part, McKay seems perfectly normal. Like nothing is amiss. Later, McKay mentions that Ford is showing signs of clinical dissociation. The fact that he even knows what it is seems to confirm his long history of therapy, and that he may have some personal experience with dissociation, as it is an extremely common defense mechanism for multiple forms of childhood trauma. For example, McKay most definitely seems to use his work to avoid facing difficult emotions. Now, unlike what he later tells Ford, "talking in the third person" is not a sign of dissociation. Experiencing a traumatic event and having no feelings about it is. Emotional numbness. Behaving in an uncharacteristic way. What we see McKay doing here are all signs of dissociation.

McKay walks in on Lorne's call to Atlantis and makes a request for radiation suits--which is not unreasonable on a planet with nearly lethal levels of radiation (in fact, we see the effects of the radiation on Ford, who is protected by the wraith enzyme and we see Ronon apply some kind of protection on his skin). While Sheppard's attitude toward McKay was being contrarian, it was never that he didn't believe McKay.

But Lorne, who seems to have adopted Sheppard's attitude toward both McKay and McKay's antics wholesale, seems to think seeking protection from the radiation is ridiculous, which is just ten different kinds of stupid. He gives McKay a look of silent judgement as he makes his request which McKay seems to misinterpret. He thinks that Lorne gives him the look because he thinks he's acting selfishly. He has not caught onto just how little Lorne seems to think of every aspect of who he is.

But the thing is, McKay's focus on this secondary, really quite peripheral concern is also a sign of dissociation. Major Lorne is not equipped to understand why McKay is behaving the way he does, and he doesn't even have a baseline for McKay's normal behaviour. We can't really blame him for not understanding what is going on with McKay, but he is still being dickish for little to no reason. McKay even shows concern for Lorne's men, asking Weir to have all the available suits brought out for them, not just for himself.

But you better believe McKay cares about what has happened to Sheppard. If he cared less, we might see him react in some normal way, be worried, be freaking out, try to think of ways of saving him. This full blown dissociation tells us just how deeply he is affected, and the fact that he mentions the concept of dissociation himself later just invites us to try fitting his foot into this particular shoe, see if it fits.

At the same time, Sheppard is slowly regaining consciousness inside a cave, tied up with Teyla.

They appear to have been stunned, and while Teyla was hit first, Sheppard is the first to wake up probably due to his bigger body absorbing the blast. Sheppard is trying to make sense of their current situation and surroundings as Teyla stirs behind him:

Teyla: Colonel? Sheppard: You OK? Teyla: My head is pounding. Where are we? Sheppard: I don't know, but I was just about to ask him.

Sheppard is glad that he's here with Teyla and not McKay. While his hands may be literally tied at the moment, he is still more free to think of what to do, how to get them out of this. He's not paralyzed by fear, he's not distracted by his constant concern for his well-being. This is why he had chosen Teyla to go with him, and this just proved that his choice had been correct.

Now, we've seen several times in the past, especially when Acastus Kolya has been involved, that Sheppard has swallowed down all his smart-ass remarks out of fear for McKay's safety. We saw him physically have to force his hand down not to say what he was thinking in The Eye (S01E11). But now, although he does not know anything about this man other than that he must be dangerous since he had got the drop on them, he seems much more carefree. They're definitely in a tight spot, but he's been in tighter spots than this.

Sheppard: You might wanna be careful where you point that thing. Looks like you've got the safety off. Sheppard: OK, be that way. But my guess is if you wanted us dead, we'd be dead right now, so why don't you tell us who you are and what you want? Sheppard: Alright, I'll go first. I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard.

Notice how Sheppard keeps direct eye contact with him, trying to come across earnest, trustworthy, stalwart and unthreatening, all at the same time. Make no mistake, he is attempting to charm Ronon into letting them go. This is one of the weapons in his arsenal and he has never been above using it to get what he wants.

So, this is not Ford. They had thought who ever had killed the wraith had been Ford due to the removal of the enzyme sac. But this man, whoever he was, certainly seemed capable of killing a wraith. Maybe they had been wrong. What was the chance they'd find two wraith killers on a planet that doesn't support animal life? So Sheppard isn't worried for McKay. As far as he knew, Lorne and McKay had been tracking the same sound, and they weren't here, and this man obviously hadn't killed himself and Teyla. So, he could pretty safely assume McKay and Lorne were still out there somewhere. That freed him up.

He's even more relieved to learn that this man is a soldier:

Dex: "Colonel"? Sheppard: It's my rank. Military designation.Dex: Specialist Ronon Dex. Sheppard: That's you? Dex: Name and rank. Sheppard: Military? Dex: I used to be. It was a long time ago.

While he didn't know this man, at least he could understand him. Clearly, he was on the lam. He was running away from something. He could understand that too. Still, he was curious. This man had clearly been through a lot. He could see something of what he felt reflected on this man's face.

Sheppard: And now? Dex: Now I'm deciding whether to kill you and your friends

Again, the topic of friendship is brought up. Friends, he says. Plural. We don't know whether he has seen the other soldiers, but he has seen Ford and by their fatigues, probably assumes Ford is one of their people. Ford and Teyla make two friends. Sheppard, however, must assume that he means the others.

The thing is, none of them are really his friends. He doesn't really have a lot of friends despite what he tells Teyla later in Sateda (S03E04), and his response there is also a case of the lady protesting too much. Most of his friends are dead or had walked out on him a long time ago (and one of his dead friends, Dex, actually had the same name as this man, seems like). He wanted to think of Teyla as his friend but they were more collegial. And Rodney. He wanted to be Rodney's friend. He tried really hard to be a friend to him. They had agreed they would be friends. So why was it so difficult? The more he tried, the more it hurt. If he was honest with himself, Rodney was not his friend either. He's not sure he even wanted that. He's not sure that he was able.

But still, who ever this man thought was his friend, he certainly didn't want them to be killed. Being his friend was the quickest way to get killed, really, so it was probably real good he didn't have any.

Back in the jumper, McKay is trying to take care of Sheppard's people who, likely taking after the example of their superiors, seem to not want to listen to their science officer despite being on an actual alien planet of which they know precious little.

He offers them the suits that they had brought with them from Atlantis but they all just seem to ignore him:

McKay: Hey, wait, aren't any of them gonna... OK, that's just reckless! There are four suits. Lorne: Not exactly designed for moving through dense brush and rough terrain, not to mention possible combat, huh? McKay: No, but by my calculations we've been exposed to 327 millisieverts since the sun came up. It may not sound like much to you but I've been keeping a running tally of my lifetime exposure to radiation: X-rays, cellphones, plane rides, that whole unfortunate Genii nuclear reactor thing. My God, last week we flew dangerously close to the corona of a sun!

Lorne does not seem to realize how close to crying McKay is here, how he has to stop in the middle of his speech, just as he mentions plane rides (Sheppard is a pilot, has come really close to dying flying a plane very recently), before continuing on to Genii nukes (Sheppard had almost died flying their nuke up to the hive) and recently having flown into the coronasphere of a sun (with Sheppard, they had almost died together). He stops, swallows, and then continues as though he was just listing things. Lorne thinks McKay is just complaining when he is clearly thinking about Sheppard and trying not to unravel right then and there.

But then, we get a really interesting exchange. From having clearly just thought about Sheppard, Sheppard, Sheppard there, McKay's mind then goes directly to having kids and how he might not be able to have them any more, things being as they are:

McKay: As it is, I may have to forego reproducing. Lorne: Yeah, that's funny. I was just thinking that might be wise.

This is another entirely unnecessary dig from Lorne. "Please don't breed because the world doesn't need more people like you," is the gist of it. That's really pretty petty toward someone that has done nothing but try to help him out, offering him his sunscreen, having Weir transport a radiation suit to protect him from deadly radiation, trying to make what seems to be--if not his very first then at least one of the first--missions on an alien planet easier for him through normalizing it with conversation. He's done everything Lorne has asked of him, he has been considerate and helpful. If McKay has done anything here, he's shown what a good parent he would be. He's not only one of the most brilliant minds of his generation, he's clearly Mr Mom. You'd be so lucky to see him with kids.

But it's interesting, what he says here. During the first season, there were multiple references to children in connection with Sheppard and McKay. In Childhood's End (S01E06) Sheppard told Keras that he might want children one day. And while it first seemed like McKay had neither the desire nor the ability to get along with children, by the end of the episode the youngest children actually clung to him, they seemed to like him best. He was the safe adult for them. He was ready to protect these children with his own life. He was surprisingly good with kids, is the thing. And what McKay says here is that he, just like Sheppard, had thought about having kids. He had planned on having kids but now was beginning to doubt that would or even should happen.

We don't know if Sheppard and McKay ever talked about kids or having kids between the two of them but fact is, they were both ready to bring the kids to Atlantis to keep them safe. It seems like they had been on the same page about this, too. And then, everything had changed. What ever dreams or plans McKay had had, they had now all burned to the ground. The radiation aspect is just an excuse. In his heart of hearts he thinks that it's just not going to happen for him because no one wants him. No one wants to make a family with him. He doesn't deserve to have a family. And even if by some miracle he found someone that would be willing to start a family with him, the most convenient way of procreating just isn't on the table for him. As far as we know, Rodney McKay has never had sex with a woman and has no interest in doing that either.

And the thing is, this is one of those throw-away lines that the mainstream audience is going to take as evidence of a heterosexual orientation where that's not what he says at all. He's not saying he had so been looking forward to breeding with an available female of his species if only he found the right one. He's saying that he thinks he's too damaged to reproduce, and that he doesn't want to transfer his damage onto his own children (and this really isn't just about the radiation). Heterosexual people don't have a monopoly on wanting to have kids. Non-heterosexual people have had children the world over, from the dawn of history. This tells us that like Sheppard, McKay had been wanting to have kids. It seems to have been a dream that they shared. But that dream had been shattered. And it's interesting that his mind went to having kids from clearly having thought about Sheppard almost dying multiple times.

Back in the cave, Ronon is applying some concoction on his skin to protect himself from the sun like a pussy, if we're going by what the military types seem to be thinking. Sheppard is both trying to reason with the stranger and, in order to try gain his trust, volunteers some information about their operation:

Sheppard: Look, the men guarding the Stargate are highly-trained soldiers armed with deadly weapons. Dex: Stargate? Sheppard: Stargate. Big circle thing. Dex: I've always known it as the Ring of the Ancestors. No matter, I have to make it through. Sheppard: Look, we didn't come here looking for trouble, and the whole killing thing is really unnecessary. Dex: If your friends try to stop me... Sheppard: They won't, if I tell them not to. Untie us, we'll all go to the gate together and you can be on your way.

Again they make a reference to friends which really seems to be a recurring theme in this episode.

Ronon seems to have spent many years all on his own and while he can tell these people are not wraith or native to this planet, or seem to want anything to do with him, he's still suspicious of them. As someone that has survived unfathomable dangers, he can tell that these two people are dangerous and while Sheppard probably is being sincere about his offer because he has places to be and people to see that are not this cave and not this man, Ronon can also tell that he's not exactly an honest man. And it's true that while Sheppard has mostly been telling this stranger the truth, he has been trying to game him the whole time too. He has been trying to come across as earnest and trustworthy because a dishonest man can also use the truth as a weapon. Sheppard is an "any means necessary" kind of guy, and here he is trying to figure out what means to apply to this guy. But it's noticeable that, practiced though his calm here is, even though he's tied up, he seems to be perfectly in control of the situation and especially is in control of himself.

What's interesting about this is that Sheppard seems to be talking to Ronon as one would to a child. As one would try to reason with a child. He's talking like a parent trying to get a child to undo something stupid and dangerous, to walk them back from getting themselves hurt. This is similar to what happened in Childhood's End. We are made to think of one of them having children, and then are shown what a great parent the other man would be. Here, both of them are actually exemplifying qualities of good parents: McKay is taking care of people where Sheppard is playing the part of a responsible, firm but compassionate authority figure. Their parenting styles seem complementary. It's too bad McKay now seems to have given up on this dream.

Continued in Pt. 5

#sga #stargate atlantis #sga meta #john sheppard #sheppard is bi #rodney mckay #rodney is gay #ep. runner #ep. childhood's end #ep. sateda

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proudfreakmetarusonikku · 8 months ago

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before I go to bed I just gotta say I really appreciate how every character in undertale is at the very least treated in a sympathetic and kind way even if they’re probably objectively bad people. like even flowey is ultimately more sad than hatable- he's a child with what’s essentially a severe disability preventing him from being able to feel certain (though not all) emotions. imagine how much that'd fuck with like a ten year old.

(he can still feel emotions in general, he's not totally emotionless he's actually a pretty emotionally volatile character, but he's incapable of healthy love and affection since he's unable to relate to and see others as anything more than things- even the love for chara he desperately held onto has devolved into an obsession with aspects of them he was able to still understand- their efficiency, their ruthlessness, and that they were fun to interact with. sorry this is just something i see sometimes and it’s like. not correct. he describes himself like that because he's a child who doesn’t have the proper words, but he also mentions stuff like being scared.)

but like, again. flowey is a child. he is asriel- the only difference between him and the sweet, good natured prince is his body and his inability to relate to and sympathise with others. and he tried! he tried to be good, but he just couldn’t feel anything, so he switched to being awful to everyone so he could at least feel something. he can enjoy a game, and he struggles to see the people around him as anything but playthings. he's a terrible person because of that, but the fact he's still a suffering child is not forgotten. he is ultimately a tragic character, who deserved better, and one who's capable of change if he chooses to- and he does choose to, if only at the end of true pacifist. he can’t feel the compassion and love for others he did as asriel, but he remembers how important it was to him. he begs you to reset those memories if you try and reset after, because he can’t go back to hurting others the same way and playing the same role again. he's never going to regain what he lost, and people will always distrust him- understandably, considering he hurt them knowingly for fun- but he's still able to act in a kinder way, even if it’s not out of compassion he can’t feel anymore.

undertale is a story about how anyone can be better, if they choose to. and anyone can be worse, if they choose the same. who we are is the result of our choices. it’s also a story about a whole lot of other things, but that sticks with me. every character in undertale has done something wrong. something they regret and makes them miserable. even flowey has regrets, even if they’re filtered through a soulless outlook. yet, all of them can be better people if they confront that. and they can be happier. it’s a story about love, to it’s core. even the no mercy route, in its own twisted way, is about love. the love of games that drives you through unsatisfying, hard and boring grinds. the love of a story and characters to the point you’d push to their limits to see just a tiny bit more. the love for a challenging experience. hell, even the levels you gain are called love- even if it stands for “level of violence” is that not driven by its own twisted love of carnage? and idk. that just tickles my analysis minded brain.

#undertale analysis #except this is before I go to bed ar 1.30 am #So it’s probably very bad analysis

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theauthor0 · 2 years ago

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Tenacity!Poppy

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GENERAL INFO

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The fusion of Poppy, Scavenger!Frisk, and Perseverance!Frisk

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BACKSTORY

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Originally a child named frisk fell into the underground, unlike other Frisks, this frisk had a perseverance soul. When Frisk entered into snowdin, the monsters their were very aggressive, she was immediately attacked by the monsters in snowdin and killed

It was then that her body and soul were brought to the gaster of that Au, where she was then experimented on

The gaster succeeded in creating an artificial soul based on the fallen child original soul being a human soul and a monster soul, creating a new colored soul that had some Determination, magic and large amounts of Perseverance trait

Gaster when making this artificial soul realized that this soul could not give full emotions to a vessel without a spirit and due to the soul being artificial it has no spirit but this was fine as the vessel was very obedient

He used the fallen child dead body which was now a skeleton as a vessel for the artificial soul

the vessel which he named P-001 able to use some magic

Eventually an accident happened in the lab when gaster was experimenting with another human soul and body that resulted in the destruction of the original human child soul that was used to make poppy

While the gaster was frustrated, he moved on and told P-001 to clean it up the dust it left behind

When P-001 was cleaning up the remains of the fallen child soul, but there soul was exposed to it

While not happened at first, P-001 was slowly gaining emotions and intelligence overtime, and while Gaster didn’t notice this at first, it grew to the point where it was very noticeable

Gaster was not able to find a reason on why this has happened but his theory was that the artificial soul was in a infancy state and did not grow a spirit yet

While the gaster was very excited about this breakthrough, he realized that his level of control of P-001 was diminishing so he had to correct that

During the time with this gaster, P-001 had to suffer abuse from gaster that haunts to this day

During the time in the lab, P-001 gave herself the name poppy after the flowers she saw at gaster desk

This continued intill Mainfame came and saved Poppy from gaster by killing that gaster. It was then that Mainframe asked if she wanted to join her on a project they were working called the Omega Timeline and asked if she wanted to come with them

Poppy agreed and from then on she lived in the Omega Timeline

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PHYSICAL INFO

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Art made by @grayskiesandink

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PERSONALITY

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Same as Poppy but is a little more traumatized

As now she doesn’t feel comfortable around monsters and is actually somewhat scared of them

She also questions her own existence

Because of this she is more shy talking to monsters than to humans

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COMBAT INFO

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(Statistics)

(Traits)

Combat experience: was forced to train during the time in the lab

Undead: Due to being dead she doesn’t need to eat, sleep, and etc

Regeneration: By absorbing living things she can regenerate her skeleton body but it is slow

Absorb: Due to being Undead she can absorb the life essence of things she touches if she so chooses, she can also absorb magic to regain her mana

(Abilities/Attacks)

Knife: Carries a knife with them that does 50 dmg

Butterfly Knife: carries a butterfly knife to use as a throwing knife

Spears: Using her limited magic, poppy can summon purple spears however the number of spears she can summon are very limiting

Fog: Using her limited magic, she can create a dense fog however this also blocks her vision

Code reading: Due to being very great friends with Mainframe, she was taught how to read code

Invisibility: Can make herself invisible with illusion magic

(Weaknesses)

-using too much magic will cause the illusion to go away, revealing her soul and true body

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CREDITS

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Poppy by @fmsdraws / @ut-poppy-askblog

Scavenger!Frisk by Alphaut

Perseverance!Frisk by Perseverancesoul / @anonymous-3197

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reflectionmdc730 · 7 months ago

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Respond to the statement “increasing levels of legislation are the only way to ensure diversity, inclusion and personal privacy in global media planning”

Before the advent of the internet, controlling our personal data was much easier to manage on a personal level, Shops could track what we would purchase, but gaining full demographic information without the use of surveys or generalisms through observation would be near impossible for brands to navigate globally. With the rise of inbound marketing in the 1950s and 1960’s Helen (2019) shows us that brands began to collect information on their customers interests, habits and demographics, allowing customers to feel more involved in the customer journey. This was a customer centric approach, but also gave the customer full disclosure on the information that they were prepared to share with the business.

With the rise of the internet, the way in which our personal data is shared has ultimately changed and the landscape of cookie sharing, and third-party data has taken away an element of personal control over what data we share and when we share it. With the inception of GDPR versed as “…the gold standard.” (Taylor,2020), and ever-increasing legislation worldwide, the notion of consumers being able to regain their basic human rights of what they share with businesses is being seen again.

Epstein (2024) believes that the impact of the implementation of legislation is 2-fold. As an immediate effect by removing the use of Third-party data, it could hinder the ability to reach the consumer, particularly more so on a world-wide platform. However, positively it pushes businesses back to first party and second-party data meaning that a brand can deliver a more personalised message.

Third-party data is a vast pool of information that is collected by a third-party organisation and sold to a business. Barron (2022) states that it can give us a much wider view of our audience allowing us to understand more information on a wider scale to help us segment our content, this is particularly useful globally when media planners are not in a physical location. However, with that in mind, by businesses utilising first party data and collecting the information themselves they have the ability to allow their consumers to opt in and Epstein (2024) iterates that by doing so, brands are now speaking to a more engaged audience, where messages are specifically tailored to them, ultimately building long-term emotional brand salience.

The modern audience has a set of favoured brands as argued by Sharp (2010a) he also theorizes that brands within the same product category sell to an almost identical customer base seen through demographic information, psychographics, personality traits and values. With this in mind, brand preference could be easily swayed if there were to be a data breach seen within the favoured brand. If we look at the case study of Facebook and the Cambridge Analytica 2018 scandal, Hern (2019) states that since the first report of the data breach, likes and shares are down by 20% and younger users are opting for different channels. Ultimately showing us that users have lost a profound trust in the platform. Mackay (2023) shows us that future impacts of this kind of data breach are long lasting through reputational damage, evidence shows a lack of repeat custom with a brand and consumers are more likely to spread negative views through word of mouth “…33.5% will take to social media to vent their anger…" (Mackay,2023).

To summarise, without the use of legislation being implemented worldwide, I do not believe that businesses would have ethically put in policies regarding inclusion, diversity and privacy. Ultimately the end goal of a business is to market to the correct target audience and convert those adverts to sales for the business. By using data and creating audience segmentation through Third-party data, brands could cover a broader reach, and gaining first-party data means collecting, storing and analysing data in house, both a costly and painstaking task. Although I believe that the initial inception of legislation surrounding these practices has been a tough hurdle to overcome, I do believe that, by forcing companies to re-look at the moral and ethical approach by gaining consented data, it has led to a more well-rounded view of their customer, essentially creating a personalised advertising experience for them, thus allowing for a more emotionally engaged audience, with consumers now feeling more respected and valued.

References:

Barron, S.B. (2022) A basic definition of first party, Second Party, & Third Party Data, HubSpot Blog. Available at: https://blog.hubspot.com/service/first-party-data (Accessed: 07 July 2024).

Bessadi, N. (2024) How can we balance security and privacy in the Digital World?, Diplo. Available at: https://www.diplomacy.edu/blog/how-can-we-balance-security-and-privacy-in-the-digital-world/ (Accessed: 07 July 2024).

Carmicheal, K. (2021) Extended marketing mix: What it is and why it’s useful, HubSpot Blog. Available at: https://blog.hubspot.com/marketing/extended-marketing-mix (Accessed: 06 July 2024).

Clark, S. (2023) Guarding trust: Unveiling Data Privacy’s hidden gems, CMSWire.com. Available at: https://www.cmswire.com/digital-experience/the-role-of-data-privacy-in-customer-trust-and-brand-loyalty/ (Accessed: 07 July 2024).

Epstein, M. and Paget, J. (2024) Interview with Maya Epstein: perspectives on the role of data ethics and privacy in global media planning., Falmouth University. Available at: https://learn.falmouth.ac.uk/courses/804/pages/week-4-guided-practice-page-1?module_item_id=63051 (Accessed: 07 July 2024).

Helen (2019) A look back at the history of the internet and Digital Marketing, Leading Digital Marketing Agency in Surrey. Available at: https://www.innovationvisual.com/insights/a-look-back-at-the-history-of-the-internet-and-digital-marketing (Accessed: 07 July 2024).

Hern, A. (2019) Facebook usage falling after privacy scandals, data suggests, The Guardian. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2019/jun/20/facebook-usage-collapsed-since-scandal-data-shows (Accessed: 07 July 2024).

Katz, H.E. (2022) The Media Handbook: A Complete Guide to Advertising Media Selection, planning, research, and buying. New York: Routledge, Taylor & Francis Group.

Koebert, J. (2024) Cookies study: 40% of Americans blindly accept internet cookies, but most don’t know what they do, All About Cookies. Available at: https://allaboutcookies.org/internet-cookies-survey#:~:text=40%25%20of%20internet%20users%20blindly,clear%20cookies%20and%20disable%20them. (Accessed: 07 July 2024).

MacKay, J. (2023) 5 damaging consequences of Data Breach, MetaCompliance. Available at: https://www.metacompliance.com/blog/data-breaches/5-damaging-consequences-of-a-data-breach (Accessed: 07 July 2024).

Sharp, B. (2010a)‘How brands really compete’, in How brands grow: What Marketers dont know. Melbourne: Oxford university press, pp. 190–193.

Sharp, B. (2010b)‘How brands compete for sales’, in How brands grow: What Marketers dont know. Melbourne: Oxford university press, pp. 196.

Statista research and 10, J. (2023) Consent to cookies usage by country 2021, Statista. Available at: https://www.statista.com/statistics/1273012/consent-cookies-worldwide/ (Accessed: 07 July 2024).

Taylor, M. (2020) Data Protection: Threat to GDPR’s status as ‘gold standard’, International Bar Association. Available at: https://www.ibanet.org/article/A2AA6532-B5C0-4CCE-86F7-1EAA679ED532 (Accessed: 07 July 2024).

Vinceseropian (2020) Media Planning in a GDPR world - just global: B2B marketing agency, Just Global | B2B Marketing Agency. Available at: https://justglobal.com/insights/jonas-olsson/media-planning-gdpr-world/ (Accessed: 07 July 2024).

#mediaplanning #globalmediaplanning #legislation

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justjessame · 7 months ago

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Light Through the Darkness: Chapter 34

Salvatore Gardens~Time Marching Ever Onward

Abigail's screaming ended as quickly as it began. She'd released it, as Lily had advised. The pain and frustration was lessened, not gone, but made manageable. Her control regained, she felt curious, four down and two to go. Would her real mother appear?

As her thoughts coalesced, the voice she heard was a complete surprise.

"Abigail, you smart, brave girl." Giuseppe Salvatore complimented. "Even here, you impress me. I truly wish I'd lived to see you take my surname."

She smiled at the man who'd only recently came to be in her affections. "Mr. Salvatore-"

"Giuseppe, I think you long earned the right to call me by my given name, Abigail." He said, carefully sitting next to her. "I wish we'd had more time to become acquainted on this level."

"As do I," she said, even as she half-blamed him for his current state. "I also wish-"

"That I had given you to the correct son?" He said screwdly. "You'll never forgive me that, Abigail, I fear." His eyes looked tired and sad. "Alive, my only goal was to keep the Salvatore name unblemished and to add to our greatness. Grasping," he chuckled darkly, "you would call it."

"Why couldn't you see him as I did?" Abigail asked, truly curious. "You hated him, and never saw any of his goodness."

Giuseppe considered her question and observation of his relationship with his eldest son. "I feared him," he answered, shocking even himself. "His passion, his urge to make you happy even at such a young age showed a loyalty I wasn't sure I ever possessed. He loved you so completely, so early, that I knew he'd put you first. Not the family honor." He looked at her with guilt. "It took me far too long to realize that you shared his love, loyalty, and devotion. Yours running both to him and our family. If I hadn't been blinded by my fear of him, and his ability to reign in his passion, maybe this all could have been avoided."

Abigail realized that she didn't feel as much pain in this visit. She was angry, certainly. He'd kept them apart. Damon went to war to prove his worth to this man. She didn't want to rage at him, he'd just confessed to the real reasons behind his distrust and anger toward Damon. It proved her right, Damon had been the best of the Salvatore men.

"We would have been happy." She said wistfully. "I've seen it in my dreams. Our family, including you, happy."

His pain was evident. "I know what I've cost you, Abigail. Will you forgive me?" His tone implied what she felt she'd known since he'd appeared. Her forgiveness, his release, all part of her key home. Did she forgive him?

Thinking as her former guardian waited she did what she'd always done while suffering from indecision. She made a mental list. Why he treated Damon so badly made a dark sense, but keeping them apart for family pride? Didn't he know her? Hadn't he watched her grow and learn?

As she struggled, she realized the true question wasn't Giuseppe's problems or their past. It was how badly did she want to go home? And that did it.

"I forgive you." She said, truthfully. "For me, and you." She took his hand. "You and I had made peace before you passed, and I can't forget that." Lily again, providing her with the answers. "I wish we'd had more time. The man I met in the family crypt is someone I would have liked to know better."

She smiled as he squeezed her hand. Leaning forward, giving her the blessing of his kiss on her forehead, she felt as he faded. A single tear ran down her cheek. Quietly forgiving the man who would have been her father had eased her emotional torment. She knew home was closer.

One more, she thought, and the doors of this prison would open. Home, she felt, really was the sweetest word.

Mystic Falls, VA~January 2010

What's worse than finding out your vampire girlfriend escaped entombment and desiccation after working for half a year to release her? Learning that the other entombed vampires had escaped instead and weren't feeling very friendly toward you and your brother.

He felt really great when learning all the additional angst from Stefan and Elena. Baby brother got abducted by tomb vamps, tortured and rescuing him with help from history teacher/vampire hunter, Ric was-fun (insert eyeroll). Now, thanks to a little helpful blood donation to aid his recovery-Stefan was heading toward the inevitable Ripper nightmare.

Then there came the news that Elena Gilbert was ADOPTED! Maury moment. And? Since baby brother was heading toward disaster, the tomb vampires were heading toward destruction and he was over this entire nightmare-he didn't want to contemplate the next evolution of crap that could or would come crushing down.

What next? He nearly screamed at the sky. What could the earth possibly throw at him next?

#alternate universe #slow burn #damon salvatore x ofc #the vampire diaries

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voidtouched-blue · 1 year ago

Text

Forgotten-contract--prior

“-Fine!” The reply was quick as he closed his eyes again, trying to ignore the other aspects that came with such bright humanity. Now, it was not the violence that his pallet longed for - and with the allowance of trust, of that warm consent and comfort, it was a different feeling that began to torment him. Like any rational man, he was able to quickly push the thoughts from his mind and focus on the matter at hand. Ignoring the closeness of her warmth, or the way her hands used his thighs to balance here and there as she shifted. “Are you alright…?” He posed the question as the bright well of her aether seemed significantly dimmer, and it brought that concern to his voice, even if the heat at his ears had yet to fade. “Is it, ah, far from your home? From here I mean.” Silvaire could feel the rambling questions begin as he tried to turn his thoughts to a topic to latch too, emotions always came with such strange caveats - clarity of those before you.

He had a pale complexion from the moment she met him, but to see some color return to his face (and ears) had given her the satisfaction of a job well done. She nodded her head, her smile softening into a more neutral expression as she tried going for some deeper breaths to restore some energy to herself. It was nowhere near as little she had been left with when the horns had emerged, but it was still a flicker compared to the brilliance she was used to having. This would be something she would need to remember to write down later.

"I'll be...fine..." She breathed.

It was getting easier to hold herself up at this point. She hadn't even realized her hands had found the muscle of his thighs rather than instinctively falling on her own for support. It was with a labored breath and a grunt that she began scooting back from him. He would need the space to finish cleaning up the blood on his clothes, after all. It wasn't surprising that this level of proximity and touch didn't bother her. Given that the context of the actions was different, she had no problem with it as long as it helped him.

Her ears perked up at his question, the stuttering arrangement of words fumbled caught her attention. She raised her scarred eyebrow for a moment. Her assumption was that her mocking joke only minutes ago had still caught him off guard.

Perhaps you should...just...not mock the patient next time...

Her own flush of pink spread across her cheeks in response to that thought. It had nothing to do with how close she had been to him, or that she caught her own hands on his thighs. Her tail flicked curiously in thought as she pushed herself to stand.

"Uhm...Let's see.." She wiped her face with her hands before glancing around them to get an idea for landmarks. "I'd say... roughly an hour's journey? If we...follow this river that way-" She pointed in the direction the water had been flowing from. "It should put us pretty close." Her stance wobbled for a few steps. Her tail was quick to correct her struggling balance.

"I'd need my maps to be sure..."

Cyra fell silent for a moment. She knew she could guide them to her home without the maps but it would require some time to regain her bearings, especially after everything that's happened. Her mind was clear for now, but only for the time being. She could feel her own demons trying to crawl through the gaps and drag her back into the memory of the rage that coated her hands. She could still feel the warmth on her skin from the flesh that her fingers ripped through.

They're shaking again.

She crossed her arms to hide the tremors. Regardless of the fact that her actions were in self-defense, it did not feel good to lose herself to that thing the Garleans had turned her into.

"-We still need to recover what we can from..." She couldn't even finish the thought. Cyra held her breath instead. She let out the exhale in a heavy sigh. "...from the wreckage." One hand habitually travelled up to fidget with the scarf she normally wore around her neck. In a quick correction, she instead reached her hand up to pull on her ear. Her hands needed something to do.

#thread: voidtouched studies #ffxiv verse #ic #[[sweet baby girl can't even process the bashful stinkey man]]#[Aspects of Black and White]

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nobody7102 · 3 years ago

Text

It's Okay

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Floyd

Warning: Angst, injury, plane ejection and crash, hospitals, medical talk

Request: @mypr3ttygirlworld "If your comfortable, after watching greys anatomy I have been thinking of a story where Bob gets a brain injury/ brain surgery it’s him and his so basically coming to terms with what that entails. Only if your comfortable with writing it and if not I completely understand!"

A/N: They way I cried multiple times while writing this. I changed the request a tiny bit. Also I don’t know medical stuff so idk if anything is correct medically speaking

Main Master-List

___________________________

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she ran from the parking lot into the entrance of the hospital, eye’s dashing around for some familiar face.

In the two years of dating Y/N knew that there would always be risks when dating Bob, but they never fully thought about it… until reality had caught up with them.

Her breath caught in her throat as she locked eyes with Rooster, before she racked her eyes over the rest of the team as they all sat in the waiting area. Standing from his seat Rooster made his way over to Y/N, pulling her into a hug.

Thoughts flooded Y/N’s head as she hugged him, and that's when her senses caught up with her as she took in Rooster’s words “Maverick’s talking with the doctors right now… we don’t really know anything”

Y/N just nodded, pulling back “Where’s Natasha?” Rooster motioned to the corner of the waiting room, where Phoenix was slumped in her chair, one arm crossed over her form as the other rested against it, covering her face as her leg bounced against the floor.

Quietly Y/N made her way over to the pilot, kneeling down in front of her, Y/N placed a hand on Phoenix’s knee, causing it to stop bouncing as she looked up.

Y/N’s eyes softened taking in Natasha’s state. Her eyes were red, hair askew, and Y/N noticed how the palms of her hands were indented with the crescent shape of her nails. Leaning forward, Y/N pulled her into a hug as the pilot let out a rigid sob, arms wrapping around Y/N’s form “I-... I don’t know what happened” she mumbled into Y/N’s shoulder.

The damn that had been holding back the tears and emotions finally broke in Y/N as she hugged Phoenix tighter. The two, not uttering a word as the rest of the team just watched, unsure what to do.

It took a few moments for the two women to regain their senses before Y/N sat next to Natasha and rested her head on her shoulder, as everyone else moved to sit closer to them.

“What happened?” Y/N finally managed to ask after a few minutes, as she sat up, her voice was quite as if something would break if she spoke any louder.

She felt Phoenix stiffen a bit at the question before she cleared her throat “It was supposed to be a simple training day…” she swallowed what little spit was left in her dry mouth “We were just gonna be practicing a flight path and ther-” her voice caught in her throat, her thoughts raced as she tried to find the word but everything just mushed together.

“We were flying when Phoenix caught some turbulence” Hangman continued, seeing how Phoenix struggled, he took her hand in his and gave it a light squeeze “They tried to level out, but it blew out the controls… and one of the engines.” he continued

“I thought-” Natasha started again, taking a breath “I hit the canopy button… but the latch got stuck… and then Bob’s seat-” tears started to make their way down her cheeks, she lifted her hands up to hide her face “I’m so sorry Y/N” she mumbled.

Standing from her seat Y/N walked from the group and out the entrance, she paced not knowing what else to do, not noticing how Rooster had gotten up to follow her.

“Y/N” he called out to her “Y/N, you’re gonna make yourself sick” he grabbed her arm “Will you just take a breath? Please? I know you’re worried but if you worry yourself sick, it’s not gonna do anyone any good”

“What am I supposed to do then Rooster?” she snapped tears coming to her eyes once again “I….I don’t know how all of you can just sit in there and do fucking nothing!” she raised her voice “god I would love to just sit and do nothing but I-... I-” as she tried to finish her sentence her body began to shake, Rooster pulled her into another hug “I still have so many things I have to tell him… things I wanna do with him…. I can’t-.... I can’t lose him” she sobbed into his chest.

The two stood in silence before the heard the door to the entrance open, “Captain’s back” Coyote’s voice filled the air before the door closed again.

Pulling away from each other, Y/N wiped away the tear stains on her cheeks, taking a few breaths.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Bradley placed a hand on her shoulder. She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as they made their way back into the waiting area. Moving back over to the team, Y/N took her place beside Phoenix, locking her arm with hers, giving her an apologetic look for leaving as she did moments before. To which Natasha just nodded before the two turned their attention to Maverick, who shot the two women a sad smile, before turning back to the majority of the team.

“Bob’s still in surgery, all the guy could tell me was that he had a brain bleed from the impact of the canopy and he’s having a craniotomy… they said it's gonna be another 2 or 3 hours. So if you all want to stay feel free, but if you want to go home and get some rest I understand. Admiral Simpson has granted everyone here time off for the week, and I will be staying and giving updates out to those who choose to go home” with that Maverick turned to hunker down in a chair.

Out of the whole team Y/N, Phoenix, Hangman, and Rooster had opted to stay with Maverick. As the time passed the team found themselves coping in any way they could.

Pete had taken to drawing small scribbles onto a notepad that he had found in the waiting area, trying to forget that the last time he was a part of an injury this bad was with Goose.

Y/N found herself biting and tugging at her nails, it wasn’t supper bad at first till she let out a sight hiss as she pulled at a hangnail.

Looking over Phoenix noticed how red Y/N fingers had gotten, reaching her hand over she took one of Y/N’s hands in hers and gave it a squeeze. Looking away from her own hands Y/N gave Natasha a small smile of appreciation before her gaze caught sight of Natasha’s hand, which was also red and raw like her own.

Hangman had started the train of hand holding, when he noticed how Natasha kept burying her nails into the flesh of her palms, so he took it upon himself to grab the aviator's hand to keep her from causing herself anymore damage.

Rooster would glance between their small group before he turned his attention to the hallway watching the doctors and nurses as they walked, counting how many different colored scrubs he saw, how many were running places as opposed to walking, anything he could think of to keep his mind busy before he glanced back to his group and started the routine over.

At some point Y/N had fallen asleep against Phoenix’s shoulder, not even realizing it till Maverick and Phoenix were slowly trying to get her to stir from the slumber.

“Y/N there's a nurse coming out” as soon as the words left Phoenix’s mouth, Y/N was wide awake. Trying to straighten out her appearance as the group sat waiting to see whose name would fall from the nurses lips as she picked up a clipboard.

“Floyd, Robert” the nurse called out, causing them all to stand and follow the nurse into a hallway. Once a few feet from the waiting area a man came out to join the group.

“Are all of you here for Mr. Floyd?” the man hummed, taking the board from the nurse. He was met with nods from the group before he looked at the board in his hand “What about the Emergency contact: Y/N Y/L/N?”

Heading her name, Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. Bob never told her she was made his emergency contact, but she raised her hand sheepishly “That’s me”

“Ms. Y/L/N why don’t you follow m-”

“No” Y/N cut the man off “Sorry…” she quickly apologized before adding “The people who are here are all that Bob has… at least all that he had that aren’t states away right now, whatever you tell me you can tell them”

The man nodded then continued “Well, my name is Doctor Tanner I was the surgeon for Mr. Floyd’s craniotomy. For the most part the helmet did it’s job and absorbed most of the impact, however it still caused a minor brain bleed. We were able to stop the bleed and he’s in recovery right now. He’s a very lucky man”

Hearing those words brought tears to everyone’s eyes, as Phoenix turned into Hangman for a hug, Rooster and Maverick shared a small smile before Y/N felt a hand squeeze her shoulder, not caring whose hand it was she placed her over it and squeezed back as the surgeon continued “We aren’t allowing visitors right now per hospital visiting hours but since Ms. Y/L/N is Mr. Floyd’s emergency contact you can stay with him till he’s out of the hospital”

“Oh…okay” was all Y/N could muster before she turned to her group. Rooster was the first to pull her into a hug. Followed by Maverick who had been the one to place his hand on her shoulder, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze once more before Phoenix and Y/N shared a tight embrace.

“Jake and I were thinking of visiting tomorrow, do you want us to stop by your place and bring you anything?” Phoenix mumbled into Y/N’s shoulder.

Nodding as she pulled out of the hug Y/N let out a sigh “My purse… and my phone charger” Natasha nodded before Hangman pulled Y/N into a side hug.

After bidding her ‘goodbyes’ and ‘good nights’ to the group the surgeon led her down the halls of the hospital.

He paused right outside of a room and turned to Y/N “I didn’t wanna say this in front of your group because there are some things I can only share…. Or at least am advised to only share with immediate family or emergency contact, but the surgery was rough for Mr. Floyd… we had to stop two more brain bleeds before he was fully stable… just so you're aware when you go in, he’s hooked up to a ventilator right now to help regulate his breathing till he wakes up… which brings be to my second point, we don’t know when he’ll wake up” as he spoke Y/N bit the inside of her cheeks trying to stay calm “The anesthesia will wear off in a few hours but after a surgery like his, he will wake up at some point we just don’t know when. Do you understand?”

Y/N nodded “Yes” her voice was quite like it had been before in the waiting area. Turning to the door of the room, he opened it for her.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N closed her eyes as her mind raced once more before she opened her eyes and stepped through the door and into the room. Like the surgeon had said Bob looked rough, as Doctor Tanner had said Bob was hooked up to a ventilator. Part of his head, towards the crown was wrapped, and his face was slightly swollen from the surgery.

Biting the insides of her cheek once more she moved further into the room, taking a seat in the chair that had been placed at his bedside. As she sat, she felt her body begin to shake once more, trying to steady her breathing she reached her hand out to take Bob’s, her thumb rubbing circled on the back of his.

Doctor Tanner cleared his throat, drawing Y/N’s attention to him once more “If you need anything or if anything happens, press that button” he motioned to a button on the wall beside the monitor that was tracking Bob’s heart rate.

“Thank you” Y/N gave the man a small smile before he left the room, and she turned her attention back to the man laying in front of her. Letting out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, tears started to make their way down her cheeks as she let out shaky uneven breaths.

Bringing Bob’s hand up to her mouth, she lightly kissed it, being mindful of the monitors and IVs in it. She closed her eyes as did, a few tears falling onto the back of his palm before she opened them once more and set his hand back down on the bed.

“Whoever’s looking out for you Bobby… we should send them a muffin basket” she joked to herself.

As the hours passed, Y/N found herself staring at Bob, memorizing the features she thought she knew so well. Yet as she looked she found herself noticing things she hadn’t, by now the swelling had mostly gone down and Y/N’s eyes traced over the details of Bob’s face. How he had a slightly uneven tan on his forehead from where his helmet sat. How the skin by the bridge of his nose had slight bruising around it, presumably from his glassing being squished into his face.

All the little details she thought she knew, like the back of her hand, were now different in some miniscule way. Taking his hand in her’s, Y/N brought his hand to her mouth kissing the back of it as she fought back tears.

“Oh Bobby…” she watched as his chest raised and fell, with the steady beep of the monitor in the background “... I love you so much…. And Phoenix and I are gonna kick your ass if you die….” she chuckled to herself as tears slipped down her cheeks “... Jake and Nat are grabbing stuff for us you know…. Probably feeding the animals too” she yawned, taking a few more minutes to herself to admire Bob’s sleeping form before she rubbed her eyes and leaned over Bob’s bedside, holding Bob’s hand as she fell asleep.

__________________________

The next morning, Phoenix and Jake arrived at the hospital with two bags in hand as they were being led to Bob’s room. Upon arrival they were met with Y/N in a chair that was pulled up to the bedside, she was draped over the bedside holding Bob’s hand.

Setting the bag she held down next to the bed Natasha looked to Jake, who gave her an encouraging smile as she approached Y/N’s sleeping form. Extending her hand, she placed it on Y/N’s shoulder. “Y/N” she hummed quietly lightly shaking Y/N’s shoulder, after a few minutes she tried again “Y/N” she tried again shaking her shoulder a bit harder.

“Hmm?” Y/N slowly stirred, pening her eyes she blinked before rubbing at her already irritated eyes before looking to the hand on her shoulder, then to Natasha. “Hi” she said quietly

“Hi… How’s it going?” Natasha took her hand from Y/N’s shoulder and made her way to pull up another chair next to Y/N

“Where am I supposed to sit?” Jake set his bag down next to the one Natasha had brought in and looked around the room for another chair.

Natasha chuckled as Y/N sat up motioning to a spot at the end of the hospital bed, next to Bob’s feet “Do you want the chair or the bed end?” she shifted in the chair, cracking her back as she did.

“I’ll take the bed end” he moved to sit on the other side of Y/N. “So back to Natasha’s question” he placed a hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

Y/N shrugged “You know… I’m as expected” she motioned to the door “The nurses come in every few hours to check on Bob” she looked back to the man resting in the bed “They’re gonna keep him on the vent till he wakes up… then after they have to see where he’s at after the surgery” she felt Hangman lightly squeeze her shoulder.

She took Bob’s hand in hers once more “How’s everyone else doing?”

Natasha shrugged “As expected… The team’s been meeting up at the Hard Deck.. Mav’s been between here and the Hard Deck”

“I really have to thank him for sending out the updates to everyone, because I just don’t think I could handle that” Y/N sighed.

Looking between Y/N and Bob, Hangman leaned back against the end of the bed “So have you noticed anything? When my family was waiting for my mom to wake up after her surgery, my dad said he would see her twitch… like she was dreaming”

Y/N shook her head moving her eyes off of Bob and to Hangman “I haven’t noticed anything, but it’s only been 4-ish hours since the surgery…. I hope he’s dreaming… dreaming about something good…” Y/N sighed “I don’t know what I’m gonna do”

To this comment Hangman smirked before he grabbed the bag he had brought and held it out to Y/N “And Nat said you wouldn’t need these” A look of confusion crossed Y/N’s face as she took the bag from Jake. Opening it she was met with three books and a set of colored pencils and the ‘Game of Thrones’ Bob had gotten her for the holidays last year. “I figured you’d need something to keep yourself occupied… I also saw a spare pair of glasses on the book shelf and threw those in there too.”

A smile came to Y/N’s face “Thank you Jake”

The day turned to night before Y/N was awoken from her sleep by the should of couching.

“Holy shit” She breathed quickly, rising to push the Nuse’s button before she was at Bob’s side taking his hands in her as she tried to stop him from pulling on the tube himself as he continued to cough looking around the room frantically.

“Bob, Honey” she held his hands at his sides “Bobby. Look at me” her voice was calm yet firm as she moved her hands to grip his “Bobby, breath through your nose” she introduced, watching as Bob did as she said “you had to go under for surgery, okay?” she continued with tears in her eyes, watching as he nodded, understanding “They had to put you on a vent while we were waiting for you to wake up… the nurses are gonna be here in a few minutes to take it out but till then I’m gonna be right here, and you’re gonna breathe through your nose okay?” he nodded again before giving her hands a squeeze.

Like Y/N predicted, the nurses didn’t take long to come in and remove the tube. Once the tube was finally out a nurse helped him take a few sips of water as she talked to Bob, taking down the rest of his vitals.

“Now your vocal cords are going to be swollen for the next few days. So take it very easy with talking” the nurse watched as Bob nodded “you’re gonna be taking up for an MRI and a Cat scan just to make sure everythings okay before Dr. Tanner comes in to talk to you… but that won’t be for a few hours since we’ve got others scheduled ahead of you” the nurse smiled at the two of you, noticing how Bob never let go of your hand, before leaving the room.

Turning to you Bob gave you a light smile before he tapped on the bridge of his nose, wincing slightly as his finger made contact with it.

Nodding in understatement, Y/N let go of his hand briefly to search through the bag that rested at her feet for the spare pair of glasses that Jake had included.

Taking out the blue plastic case, she opened it before unfolding the glasses and slipping them onto Bob’s face. “Better?” she hummed watching as his smile grew, probably from getting to see Y/N better. “I’m glad” she chuckled, bringing her hand up to the side of Bob’s face, holding his cheek. Instinctively he leaned into her touch as her thumb caressed his cheekbone.

Y/N let her hand linger for a few more moments before she grabbed her phone out of her pocket, before her eyes flickered to Bob “Are you okay if I take a picture to send to everyone?” she watched as he nodded before throwing up a peace sign that was accompanied by a lazy and tired grin for the photo.

Making a group text for the team(and not wanting Maverick to give all the updates) she send the photo before adding

‘Look who’s awake :)’

Sliding her phone back into her pocket, Y/N took Bob’s hand once more and brought it to her lips, kissing his knuckles. “It's like one in the morning… we should both probably get some rest” she suggested and watched as Bob patted the bed. “Baby, I don’t know if that’s a good idea right now” she chuckled “Besides I don’t think we’d both fit”

Shaking his head, refusing her answer. Bob scooched over on the hospital bed, making room for Y/N before patting once again to the space besides him.

Letting out a sigh, Y/N rose from her seat to join Bob on the bed. Mindful of the monitors he was hooked up to. Y/N relaxed into his side as his arm wrapped around her, as she took in his scent and the weight of his arm along her shoulder. She didn’t notice how he held his breath upon resting the whole weight of his arm against her.

“Bob?” Y/N raised her brow, feeling his body tense even more. She turned her body and her hand moved to hold his shoulder.

He felt her free hand reach up to wipe away a few stray tears that had fallen down his cheeks. Feeling her thumb against his cheek a sob racked over Bob’s body as Y/N pulled him closer. Holding him, mindful of herself and his IV and monitors.

“Its okay Bobby” she felt his grip tighten around her “We’re gonna figure this out” she hummed kissing his cheek.

_____________________________

General Taglist: @caswinchester2000

Bob Taglist: @masset-fotia @sparrows-corner @lovemesomeevesey @robertbobfloydlover @zaggprincess @awesome-fandom-princess @luckyladycreator2 @hotpigeon22 @alldaysdreamers @finja-caipirinha @juniebugg @liannisha @earth-to-lottie @winterrebel04 @kidsol-ar @airedale17 @bespinnn @fantasias-creativebubble @feireads @tispykeen @seasonswinter @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @tigerlillyyy @eg-dr3amer3 @revengze @m0chac0ffee @lizbradshaw @blog-name6996 @skylynch03 @ollyoxenfrees @massivedetectivestudent @fantasticcopeaglepasta @txtdreamss @honeyofthegods @alexwinchester23 @cowboybarbie @gretagerwigsmuse @ohh-to-be-a-frog @justthefckinggrainthings-blog @ireadthensuetheauthors @mistressslytherin

#bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob x reader #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd #robert 'bob' floyd #top gun imagine #top gun #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #lewis pullman top gun #lewis pullman imagine #lewis pullman x reader #lewis pullman #top gun maverick cast

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custardcrazy · 2 years ago

Text

sugar, sugar

summary: You’re Ted’s history tutor. After a study session in the library, he offers to buy you a slushie to thank you for your help - things happen from there. (gn!reader)

wordcount: 2.2k

A/N: please forgive me for somewhat ridiculous pacing on this one. also, my requests are open for bill and ted!! (please help i’ve been stuck in writer’s block for god knows how long. also i love them)

“And who’s the patron saint of France?” You asked, showing the notecard to Ted.

It was after school on a Friday, so hardly any other students were still in the building. The librarian had vacated her post a good hour ago - you weren’t sure if that was allowed, but she hadn’t returned thus far. The only other people- or, person - in the library was one kid in the corner, poring over a ridiculously thick book.

Ted took a moment, face scrunching up a little as he thought over your question. “Uhh,” he began, “is it Joan of Arc?” His brow furrowed as he absentmindedly brushed some of his hair out of his face. He didn’t sound sure of himself in the slightest. “I dunno, dude. Or is it Napoleon?”

“Joan of Arc,” you corrected gently, giving him an encouraging smile as you showed him the answer. “That’s six in a row, Ted. You’ve really improved!”

Since you were one of the top students in the honors-level class, Mr. Ryan had basically forced you to help out Ted with his studies. Things had been awkward at first, as you hadn’t thought much of him, having heard less-than-flattering things from your fellow honors students about him and his friend Bill. But Ted, being himself, had quickly endeared himself to you, and you could gladly consider yourself friends with him now. You’d met Bill a few times as well, but since he was being tutored by somebody else, you didn’t get to see him as often as Ted.

At your compliment, Ted tilted his head downwards, hiding beneath his bangs in a move that could only be described as bashful. “Thanks, dude.”

Amused, you shuffled through the cards again. “No problem. Just one more to go, don’t space out on me just yet.”

“ ‘Kay,” he answered meekly, looking as if he was attempting to regain his composure. Though, as he peeked at you, you could still tell that his face was a bit pink. He was pretty much an open book; even if he tried to hide his feelings, anyone with basic knowledge of human emotion could tell what he was thinking. It was kind of refreshing, actually. And also kind of cute.

“Alright.” You dispayed another card to him. “Who was the creator of the Mongol Empire?”

This time, Ted brightened up. “Oh! I know this one, it’s easy.” The embarrassed look was gone in an instant, replaced by a grin. “Genghis Khan, right?”

Flipping the card over, you nodded. “Yeah, that’s it! Nice work.”

Seemingly happy at his small victory, Ted’s smile persisted. You couldn’t help but return it; his attitude was contagious. Brown eyes met yours, crinkled up at the corners. And abruptly, time seemed to still.

You were aware that Ted wasn’t exactly ugly, but. Had you actually looked closely before? Not like this. He was kind of --

pretty?

Wait, since when had you --

“That’s all for today,” you said, after a beat. You focused your attention down at the table, suddenly feeling self-conscious, as if he could read your thoughts. “Like I said -- you’ve improved a lot, Ted. I think you’ll do alright on the final, at least.” Aware of the fact that you were speaking just to hide your own increasing awkwardness, you began to clean up your notes, paper rustling as you did so.

“You really think so, dude?” Ted beamed, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice, even though you weren’t looking at him anymore. (But you wanted to.)

“Maybe I won’t flunk after all! That would be totally mortifying, after all the effort you’ve put into helping me out, dude.” He was so genuine, as always, but it somehow felt more special now. Of all times. “Thanks again, dude.”

“It’s no big deal,” you insisted, tucking your stuff into your bag before closing it. Finally, you glanced at him -- his eyes had been on you the entire time. “You’re not nearly as bad as some of the guys on the football team, y’know. One of my friends got stuck with one of ‘em.” You lowered your voice as if you were telling him a painful secret. “This guy in particular has terrible hygiene.”

“Bogus.” Ted made a face. “I seriously hope that your friend is okay. That sounds odious, having to deal with unsanitary sports dudes.”

“Oh, I’ve heard enough to know how it is.” Standing up, you swung your bag over your shoulder, before pushing in your chair. Mostly on reflex. You shivered to remember being yelled at for forgetting to ‘leave everything as you found it’... Maybe it was a good thing that the librarian was conveniently absent.

Ted did the same, and you walked side-by-side out of the library.

It was perfect outside, and the parking lot was pretty much empty. You checked your watch - 4:30 PM. Ted stilled next to you, and you looked over, meeting his eyes.

“Well,” you said, somewhat stiffly. “We actually ended a bit earlier than usual. Did you study on your own time?” You didn’t say it out loud, as it would probably come off as rude, but your expectations were pretty low when it came to Ted. He was a hard worker when he wanted to be, sure, but that was hardly ever. Most of his brain was occupied by Led Zeppelin and various other bands. Which was delightful, but not when trying to get him to memorize other things.

The boy shifted where he stood, looking sheepish. “..Maybe a little,” he answered. “The flashcards you gave me really helped, dude. The little drawings on the back, too. The stuff you said about me being a ‘seeing learner’ was right, I think.”

Huh. He actually studied? “Oh, I thought so -- wait.” You looked at him quizzically. “ ‘Seeing learner’?”

“You know, uh.” Ted floundered for a moment. “Like, um, learning stuff faster if I see, like, pictures of them? I think?”

It took you a second to figure it out, but then it clicked. “Oh. Ted, that’s a ‘visual learner’.”

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah, that.”

You couldn’t help but snort, which somehow seemed to bring a smile to his face - the reason why being unknown to you. “Right. Keep it up, then. Like I said, I’m pretty sure you’ll pass the final, as long as you have a general idea of what the historical figures did.” You’d already informed him that basically paraphrasing the textbook would probably work, as long as he loosely stuck to the theme.

Ted nodded, his shoulders bobbing with the movement. “Stellar.”

“So, uh, you heading home now?” He asked, shy once more.

“Probably.” You shrugged. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

“Then,” he said, and you quickly took notice of how he was beginning to rush his words. “Do you wanna -- I mean, if it’s okay with you -- I can buy you, like, a slushie or something? At the Circle K?” You opened your mouth to answer, but he kept talking. “If -- if it’s okay with you, dude. Even if you are acting most indifferent about helping me out, I wanna, like. Thank you properly.”

... You had to admit, you were kind of touched.

Also, did your heart just skip a beat? What was going on?

“Sure, if you’re offering,” you said, mentally patting yourself on the back for how nonchalant you sounded, despite the fact that you were also really confused at the same time.

“Excellent,” he replied, pretty much instantly perking up. If you had to describe Ted in as few words as possible, you’d probably call him a golden retriever. Was that degrading, though? “Let’s go, then! The walk isn’t far, I go from here to there with Bill all the time.”

Ted ambled off, and you followed after him.

As he’d said, the walk wasn’t long, and before long, you were sitting outside the Circle K, on the curb. Ted had paid for both of your slushies, and though he hadn’t mentioned it, you were flattered that he did, despite the fact that he didn’t exactly have a lot of money to his name.

The way that he’d frantically rustled through his pockets for a five-dollar bill said it all.

The plastic of your drink was cool against your hands, and you took a sip from the straw. You’d picked your favorite flavor to be safe, as you hadn’t had a slushie for a decent while - but you still enjoyed it all the same, thankfully. On the other hand, Ted had chosen a mixture of flavors that you still weren’t sure if they were safe to combine.

“Is that edible?” You asked him, after taking another sip from your drink, and gesturing to his.

“Sure is, dude,” he proclaimed proudly. “After loads of experimentation, I believe that I have found a magnificent combination of slushie flavors.” He smiled at you brightly. “It took all of last summer! Bill still thinks that it tastes gross, though.”

“Huh.” You couldn’t even remember what he’d put in it. “Mind if I try, then? To see if Bill’s right.” Also, to sate your own curiosity. You weren’t quite sure if Ted’s slushie was radioactive, but even if it was, there was the chance that it was as good as he said it was. Even if the chance itself was slight. “You can have some of mine, too. Fair trade.”

He gave you one of his jerky nods, and you exchanged slushies.

You hesitated a little, before trying his.

It...

It wasn’t half-bad, actually. Maybe you could even call it good.

You turned to face him to say so, about to give the drink back to its rightful owner. But you found him, just. Looking at you, like he had while you were talking back in the school library. He was still holding your slushie up, as if he’d just taken a sip from it.

“What?” You asked. “Do you really hate that flavor or something?”

Your voice seemed to snap him out of whatever reverie he had been held in, and he shook his head, dark hair flopping around. “Nah, it’s not that, dude, I just --” A pause, in which you waited for him to continue, now feeling somewhat apprehensive.

“I just realized, like. Sharing the drinks and all...,” He trailed off, and okay, he was going red, you realized. “Sorry, it’s stupid.”

“What, are you sick?” You urged, now more worried than anything, moving to give the slushie back to him. “Hey, it’s alright, just --”

“It’s not that either! Like I said, it’s dumb!” Ted interrupted, and now you were officially confused. It probably showed quite plainly on your face, as he hurriedly focused his eyes on your slushie in his hands. Part of you wanted it back, but now you were mostly just concerned for your friend.

“What is it, then?” Hoping that you weren’t coming off as harsh, you frowned, lowering your voice a little. “If it’s bothering you like this, then it isn’t stupid, Ted.” You’d finally gotten through to him, and his shoulders sagged. He mumbled a few words that you couldn’t hear.

“Ted?” You asked, hoping he’d speak up.

You had to strain a little to hear his next sentence.

“ ... The whole, um, ‘indirect kiss’ thing,” he muttered. “With sharing straws.”

Wait, what?

“What do you mean by that?” You pushed, and okay, he was hiding behind his hair again. This was new. You were suddenly aware that your heartrate was increasing. “Is there.. something wrong with that?”

“ ‘M sorry, dude.” He took a steadying breath. “You’re a very intelligent and helpful tutor, and you’ve really helped me a lot -- wait, you already know that, I’ve told you that before - But that’s all to say that --” Ted ceased his rambling, eyes snapping up to meet yours.

“Now that I’ve brought up kissing, dude, I just gotta say that I have been most infatuated with you for the time we’ve known each other.” A beat, in which you merely blinked, stupefied. Ted kept talking. “And I. I’d, like, really like it if we could actually, like. Kiss. And stuff.” His face was a pretty pink.

It took a moment for it to sink in. And suddenly, it all clicked. It all made sense now -- how Ted always seemed to become shy when you complimented him. How he always turned his full attention on you when you were talking, even about stuff he found extremely boring. And how when he made you smile, he returned it tenfold.

Had you really not realized this before? Maybe you were the one who needed tutoring, you thought.

Ted was still looking at you, though, awaiting an answer. He was beginning to shrink in on himself, and you couldn’t have that. Even if his confession was pretty sudden and completely out of nowhere.

So you delicately placed his beloved drink on the curb next to you.

Ted’s breath caught in his throat as you moved closer, taking a moment to cup his face, his skin warm against your fingertips. As soon as you made contact, regardless of how soft it was; he folded, maybe a bit literally, eyes automatically fluttering shut as you leaned in.

At first, he was tentative. Unsure. But after the first kiss, which was rather short and cute, he was much less tense. Your hands carded through his hair, and he pulled you closer.

#ted logan x reader #ted logan imagine #ted logan imagines #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #ted logan x you #bill and ted imagine

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spinchip · 2 years ago

Text

They send Cole in to talk to him because Jay’s never had a serious relationship other than Nya (and they're still together,) kai’s only ever had flings, and Lloyd was as knowledgeable on break-ups as a wet pile of leaves. Cole is the resident expert on heart break, being as he’s had 2 long(ish) lasting relationships that had both come to a tragic end- albeit, even he wasn’t quite experienced with this level of heartache. His ex boyfriends were from highschool, and nothing ever mattered in highschool. Especially not since he’d become a ninja. Who cared if Joaquin cheated on him with Lexi? He saved ninjago from countless evils. Joaquin was probably regretting it now!

Kai nudges him and exaggerates his eyebrows silently, motioning towards the kitchen door. Okay, so Cole was stalling. Just a bit. He was a little afraid he’d be out of his depth on this-scratch that, he was certain of it. Maybe if it were Jay or Karloff, he could manage- but Zanes emotions ran wide and deep and it was so incredibly hard to navigate those waters. Alas, he was specially chosen for this mission. He had to try.

He cautiously creaks open the kitchen door and finds Zane… chopping vegetables. For some reason, he’d convinced himself he’d find him curled up on the counters crying his eyes out. Yes, Zane was a very emotional person- but Cole forgot how deeply Zane hid that part of himself away. He can’t rely on the obvious for this. He’s gotta go into ninja mode, really do some nitpicking recon.

One sleeve of his sweater is rolled up, the other has rolled down and hangs dangerously close to getting tomato juice on it. Oh man. He’s really upset. Zane was meticulous about cleanliness, especially in the kitchen. His mind is somewhere else.

“Hello Cole.” He offers the master of Earth a smile, “If you have come to ask about dinner, it will be ready in an hour or so. I will call you when it is time to eat.”

Oh, clever clever. Polite as a peach but a not-so-subtle dismissal tacked on at the end, which means there’s no way for Cole to redirect the conversation gently. Zanes is banking on him losing the nerve to confront him. Well, Coles is no coward (And the others would just make him try again later. Better to rip the bandaid off now, right?)

“I actually wanted to talk to you.” He starts, swallowing thickly, “About how you're feeling.”

Zanes hands still just for a moment over the next tomato before he soldiers on, “I am fine.”

Cole frowns, “Zane… I’ve been through it too. It sucks… it’s okay that you’re not fine.” He tries softly.

Zane places the knife down, picking up the cutting board and setting the tomato aside, “I understand your concern, but I am fine. My romantic relationship with Pixal has ended, but we will remain friends and that is agreeable with both of us.”

There’s a pause as Cole tries to think of what to say, “You’re really… just okay with that?" At this point, an upset Zane would have gotten that kicked-puppy expression and opened up a bit more. Maybe started wringing his hands together, or shut down completely. Was he really fine? Zane? "You two have been together for what, four and a half years?”

“Five years, three months, and 12 days.” Zane corrects gently as he wipes down the counter.

“And it’s... over? Why did she end it?”

Zane gives him a quizzical look, “Cole, I was the one who terminated our relationship.”

That shocks Cole so badly he actually has to grab the counter for support. his feet nearly slide out underneath him, and he struggles to regain his bearings, “What!?” He gapes, “But- you were like so in love with her!”

Zane cringes and he can’t quite hide it, “I certainly believe I was, yes.”

“Well, what happened? What changed?” He forgets he’s supposed to be helping Zane with his heartbreak, curiosity leaping forward.

“I do not wish to discuss that.” he murmurs, pulling out a large pot and setting it on the stove.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry.” He scratches the back of his head, “It just feels so sudden. I didn’t even know you were feeling this way…”

Zane shrugs uncomfortably, “I did not want to say anything until I was certain of my choice. I thought about it for a long time before I approached her.”

Cole catches that and connects the dots faster than he thinks Zane expects him to, “A long time?… since the Never Realm?” He ventures carefully.

Just like that, Zane's face closes off completely. He stiffly continues to make chili, but does not acknowledge Cole's presence. He doesn’t comment on what he said, and pretends like he never heard it.

Cole decides to speak again, “Y’know what happened in the Never Realm…” he lowers his voice, pitching it low enough so no one could even consider eavesdropping. Something just for Zane, “No one blames you. It wasn’t your fault… We don’t love you any less because of what happened. I know it can be scary to wonder what we think of you, but my opinion of you hasn’t changed. I’m sure Pixals hasn’t either, so you don't need to run away. We still see you the same.” He says genuinely, reaching out and patting Zane's shoulder.

Zane exhales and the air in front of him swirls with snowflakes. He brushes Coles hand off but not unkindly, “You do not understand. I spent sixty years in the Never Realm.” it’s not a surprise but Cole still winces, “She still sees me the same, but I have lived a lifetime without her, a life completely different from this. I am the one who does not see her like I once did. I am not the man I was, and I feel nothing…” He shakes his head and re-words his sentence to be kinder, “I no longer feel romantic love for her.”

“Oh.” Coles not sure what to do with that.

“Thank you for your concern, Cole, but I truly am alright. I have had decades to distance myself from that pain.” Zane assures him with a smile. “Now please, allow me to return to our dinner.” He motions to the pot, and Cole takes the dismissal this time.

When he’s nearly out the door he hesitates, peeking his head back in. Zane has gone back to cooking, one sleeve rolled and the other slipping down. Maybe that’s just who he was now.

“I have one more question.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know if I want to know the answer.” he admits, tapping an anxious finger along the door frame.

“Then do not ask it.” Zane says. His voice is light but there’s a firmness there. He offers the advice with a push.

Cole accepts it and lets the door swing shut behind him.

On the tip of his tongue is do you still see us the same?

How do you see all of us, now?

#zane julien #s11 consequences #cole ninjago #ninjago #spinchip fic #idek #pix/ane break up rip

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yandere-sins · 3 years ago

Note

this is an ask! or could be head canons! but what’s the aftermath of father! Bakugou hitting his daughter? like is he more gentle or you know how abuse only gets worse after the first hit? also what are the emotions running through the girl’s head and what’s the reaction from his s/o? sorry about this; I get really curious about aftermaths, especially about yandere scenarios!

Thanks for asking! I hope this stills your curiosity ^^

[Part 1]

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

♡ It takes almost two days for him to get back on track, and not by his own volition. Two days that he hides in his home office, curtains drawn closed and leaning back in his recliner, a glass of whiskey in his hand being his only companion. In the matter of one night, he completely turned his life upside-down. Bakugou doesn’t want to talk to anyone, see anyone, or do anything. Though he can take vacation days at his job, it only suffocates him more to know he’s taking time off that the world needs him for. But he drowns it in any alcohol he can grab from close by.

♡ His partner tried to start a conversation with him, but it led nowhere. Just a broken glass, a bleeding hand, and the fear he’ll throw another one in their direction again if they keep bothering him about what he did to their daughter. It’s not their position to judge him, not when they weren’t there to prevent it from happening like they always did. Bakugou blames himself the most, but once he can’t take it anymore, he does go off on his darling where they were when they needed them and when they should have taken the hit for their daughter like always. Where they hid while he lashed out at her. And if they drive him too far, he might do worse to his darling than just scream and throw glasses at them, so they quickly disappear, only going inside the office to clean the glass from the floor and bring him new food that he won’t eat.

♡ Bakugou is needlessly strict with himself, always imagining the “what if” instead of seeing things as they truly happened. He constantly plays with the thought of accidentally killing his daughter instead of being happy she’s alive and well. The anger he felt when he hit her hasn’t dissolved yet either, so he makes up excuses and reasons for his behavior when really, all he feels now is the fear of losing her more than ever before.

♡ Meanwhile, his daughter is probably not doing so much better either. Locked in her room just like Bakugou decided, there’s not much to do but rest and heal as best as possible while not being overtaken by the many fears her room now holds. While no one in this household is okay, Bakugou’s partner might play mediator just to regain some peace, telling their daughter about what her dad is doing all day long and how affected he is by what he did. It might be harsh to ask her to go to him and show him she’s okay. Still, since the situation is getting worse and worse, some very unhealthy ideas are planted in the young girl’s mind about showing forgiveness and being the bigger person in this scenario; since, technically, it’s the daughter’s fault that things escalated.

♡ It’s not the healthy and correct way, but it does help—unfortunately. Bakugou might be annoyed that his partner is yet again bringing food, but when a timid voice calls out to him, “Papa?” all the anger is completely forgotten in an instant. Gazing upon his daughter in shock, it’s not long until he beckons her closer, pulling her on his lap and hugging her tightly. Apologizing yet again for what he did and praising her for being so strong. Hearing her apologize in return and tell him she understands why he did what he did does so much good for his pained heart, and soon enough, even with his alcohol levels, he’s back at the dinner table with the two most important people in his life, smiling and basking in the praise they rain on him.

♡ Everything goes back to almost normal. The stricter rules are still in effect, and things still feel off, no matter how much everyone forces themselves to pretend all is good. His daughter is much easier to flinch now when he lifts his hand, Bakugou feels weird going into her room, and his partner pretends none of these things happened and are happening right in front of their eyes just to keep the peace. It’s a disaster in the making, a pot full of unspoken truths threatening to boil over any day.

♡ It just needs one more mistake, one more overstepping of Bakugou’s new boundaries. One is enough to make Bakugou realize he still holds the reigns in these relationships, whether it’s with his darling or his daughter. They can plead and beg him to stop, but if he must teach his daughter another lesson to see reason and stop ruining his patience with her, he will. Sometimes lifting his hand is enough; other times, she’ll have to feel it against her skin. It’s easier now, and Bakugou knows how to temper his strength and apply it less critically. But it hurts regardless, and he gets trigger-happy much easier every time. He forced one person into submission before, he can do it again. He can take all the joy from his daughter, lock her in her room until she begs him to be her old, well-meaning father again and not this aggressive monster he turns into when she doesn’t do as he wants.

♡ But why does it hurt him so much, he wonders? Why is he regretting lashing out even though he’s much more careful now, skilled even? This is not the clumsy dominance he had when it was just his darling. He is now much more settled into his role as the executor of his will. Why is it so much harder seeing either of these beloved people look at him with tears in their eyes when it had always been the way he did things? Why does it hurt to feel them flinch against him when he goes to hug them even though everything is okay at that moment? Where has all the trust he built with them gone after all this time?

Why did one mistake ruin all he loves?

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loftwingsuarus · 2 years ago

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What the fuck is revival depression syndrome

~~~

Citra was in and out of sleep her first week.

"Commander Damisch," Cirrus said, "Amy and Janelle are wondering if you'll be here for the rest of the revivals." Citra blinked her bleary eyes. The fog did not clear. Commander?

Rowan was still holding her hand. A tablet was balanced on his knee, and he craned his neck to use it. The room's lights were dimmed.

"Amy is in charge until Citra is well again."

Citra watched Rowan scroll through the tablet single-handed and tap some profiles, watched the way his eyes flickered across the words. Dark circles like crescent moons sagged beneath his eyes. For someone who decided they were not in charge, they were certainly very concerned with staying updated.

"I have her revival process handled," Cirrus said.

"I'm aware. Just let them know."

"I am not discouraging you, of course. It will be good for her to have someone here. While I am missing many functions of a default revival center, it is nothing which would prevent a full recovery. However, that does leave me to contend with Post-Revival Depression Syndrome. While it will not afflict anyone for more than a week or so, it is rather unpleasant."

Rowan glanced up, his brows furrowed in concern.

"Explain."

"You may think of major depressive disorder, and its related diagnoses. Post-Revival Depression Syndrome can exhibit itself similarly. Other side effects replicate those of ill-advised sedative use, such as barbiturates or benzodiazepines. I cluster treatment types based on the individual's prognosis. The neural pathways are recovered long before they are awake. Nanite infusions can be used to recreate brain structures, neurons, and synapses down to the molecular level. It is the process of regaining consciousness itself which is difficult."

Rowan got the sense that it was 'difficult' in a variety of ways.

"This applies to neurotransmitters such as-"

"Serotonin, histamine, GABA, dopamine, acetylcholine, norepinephrine..." Rowan knew the rest of them, along with their categories. He thought about waking up suddenly, with a random fraction of his brain functionality impaired or in disarray. "No CNS inhibitor like being dead.”

"Precisely. Symptoms of Revival Depression Syndrome include anhedonia, emotional instability, parasomnia, weakness, migraines, nausea, bradypnea, incoordination, cognitive impairment, disinhibition, difficulty concentrating, disorientation, memory problems, and experiences of derealization. Rarer symptoms include altered consciousness, paranoia, hallucinations, self-harm, and suicidal ideation.”

Citra remembered quite a few of the common ones from when she woke up after the sinking of Endura. That was a difficult revival, even with all the proper functionalities of a regular revival center. Rowan cringed.

"Let her sleep a little longer.”

"She has slept through most of it. Being awake is part of the reconstruction process. With my assistance, the mind will rebalance its own chemistry." Rowan let out a frustrated sigh. "There are no safeguards from such a thing, but it is good that you are here."

A small notification sound replaced Cirrus' voice momentarily. Every sound besides Rowan’s voice was tinny and horrible to Citra, like supermarket loudspeakers.

"Janelle says she's amazed by your devotion." Another ding. "Amy says not to worry, she has the other revivals handled.”

"You could run this whole place on your own," Rowan said, "And still you act like you're my secretary."

"Displays of hubris are not my prerogative, Commander Damisch." Citra would describe Cirrus' tone as ironic or playful, especially in that last phrase. A small smile came to his face.

"Amy's the commander right now," Rowan corrected.

"In my records, you are both designated Commander until Amy is relieved of her responsibilities."

Rowan pressed his lips into a thin line, and looked dumb while he was doing it. He glanced at Citra, then back at his tablet. And then he looked back at Citra again, wide-eyed, this time realizing that she was awake.

"Since when are you a commander?" she asked. She tried sitting up. Rowan squeezed her hand and leaned over. The tablet fell off his lap and hit the floor. He didn't care enough to pick it up.

"Are you okay?"

"Apparently I have Revival Depression Syndrome," she deadpanned. She sounded like death.

"But are you feeling alright?"

"Peachy. Actual Lucifer in hell told me to say hi."

Rowan ignored her attitude. He leaned down and gave her a kiss. The lights dimmed even more. His hand was warm on her cheek.

"Everything will be fine," he said softly. He did not even breathe, as if touching Citra was the most important thing to ever happen in his life. “I’m staying here with you.” If she spent any more time in bed, Citra was convinced she would turn into mold.

“No, don’t. Sounds like whatever Commander Damisch does is important.”

She let go of Rowan’s hand, and forced her legs to move. It took more effort than she would’ve liked, but she managed. What incoordination? I’m fine.

Citra went to her feet and immediately collapsed. The whole ship was a rollercoaster. The universe was doing pirouettes. Her head was loopy. Rowan caught her. Nevermind, everything was fine.

“Citra!”

“Are you sure the gravity’s lighter?” she asked.

“Hmm, I wonder why it doesn't feel like that to you,” he said sarcastically.

~~~

eh. maybe ill write more. penis explosion

#scythe #arc of a scythe #myposts

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nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

Text

felt the lightning under my skin

word count: 13.7k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, little bit of asshole joel, alcohol consumption, slight innuendo, moderate depiction of injury, needles

recommended listening: under the spell | springtime carnivore

a/n: i know figure skater/hockey player romances are terribly cliche but i couldn’t help myself. as an ex-skater hopefully i can make it a little less cringe. there’s probably an obscene amount of technical jargon in here and i sincerely apologize. the injury mentioned actually happened to me and let me tell you, it was not fun lmao. enjoy!

Joel swears he’s going to kill whoever’s in charge of renting out the practice facility.

Realistically, he knows it’s impossible. The rink can be rented by anyone when the Flyers aren’t using it and he typically thinks it’s a great way to promote ice sports in the community. Joel just wishes the facilities manager didn’t rent it out to figure skaters. They kick the shit out of the ice with their toe picks and leave the ice in terrible quality. It frustrates Joel because while community engagement is important, his career and the team take precedence.

No one else seems to be bothered by the recent decline in ice conditions. Most of his teammates are used to poor ice, growing up playing pond hockey and at rinks that also housed figure skating clubs. While Joel had those experiences as well, he clearly never developed the same nonchalance as everyone else. He complains in the dressing room after every practice until Kevin finally says something.

“Christ Beezer, relax. It’s only for another month or so until renovations at the other rink finish.”

Others chime in, telling him to not take it so seriously, with a couple of them defending the right of the other athletes to use the ice as they so please. The grief Joel catches is enough to shut him up, but he still stews privately over the fact figure skaters are destroying his happy place.

☼☼☼☼

You want nothing more than to return to your home rink. The Flyers Skate Zone has been nice, the staff are incredibly accommodating, but something feels off. You’re having a harder time landing jumps and skating clean programs. The change in routine is enough to knock you off your game, which is something you absolutely can’t have. You’re coming off a breakthrough season, finishing on the podium at nationals and landing a spot on your first world championships roster. People are expecting you to replicate your success and you want to do that and more.

US Figure Skating had taken a chance placing you on the national team for the current season. Though it was expected, they could have easily chosen the fourth place skater instead. She’s much younger than you, barely fifteen, and is yet to have a serious injury. At twenty you’re barely an adult, but this could be the last time you get an opportunity like this. The sport keeps getting younger and you’re going to get left behind if you don’t prove yourself. The grand prix circuit has been kind to you, allowing you to earn medals at some of the smaller competitions and hold your own against the big dogs in the majors like NHK Trophy.

☼☼☼☼

“Try the triple flip again,” Brenda, your coach, instructs. “You could be more solid on the landing.”

“It’s this fucking ice! I can do one at home that would get me a high GOE,” you complain.

She rolls her eyes and thinks about telling you off, but decides against it. No matter how many times she tells you it’s a mental block you need to get over, you find a way to blame the training facility. “Just give me five solid ones and we’ll call it quits.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you peel away from the boards anyways. Some juniors are mingling in a corner and you warn them to watch out as you skate by gaining speed. The first attempt feels natural, and though you could have been a little stronger on the exit it’s a significant improvement from what you were doing earlier in the session. Jumps two and three also go well, but things go wrong on the fourth try. You catch a bad edge just before takeoff and aren’t able to correct your center of gravity while in the air. Two and a half rotations happen before you slam into the ground. The entire right side of your body feels like it’s been run over by a bus.

“Fuck!” you scream in frustration as you pick yourself up off the ice. Circling back to examine just how bad the edge was you notice your pick created much too large a hole, something you’d get points deducted for in competition. Brenda signals you over to her, and you hang your head as you skate over.

“You’re done,” she sighs. You can tell it pains her to see your progress plateau, but you’re doing everything you can to get out of this rut. Before you can protest, try to convince her to let you stay on, she’s speaking again. “Our ice time is up anyways. Go cool down and meet me in the conference room when you’re done.”

There’s nothing for you to do but sulk off the ice. The other skaters clear out of your way, not wanting to be on the receiving end of your anger. You direct it at the dressing room door, kicking it open so harshly it flies back on the hinges. It makes you feel a bit better but you’re still in a sour mood as you untie your skates. It’s frustrating not being able to perform at the level you know you can, even in practice. If you could just get out of this rink and back into the one you’re most comfortable at.

After a much longer stretching routine than normal, you pack up your bag and head upstairs for what will no doubt be one of those meetings where you sit silently and take the heat. You realize that your behaviour today was childish, but you couldn’t help but let your emotions overcome you. The next group is well into their ice time when you pass by, and you realize it’s the Flyers. Most of them don’t acknowledge you and keep running drills, but one who looks about your age is sending you daggers. You have no idea why.

The meeting goes much better than you thought it would. Brenda takes your anger in stride and lets you apologize for your outburst before shifting the conversation to altering your training plan. She suggests you take a few days off from the rink, working strictly off-ice, and you begrudgingly agree. There isn’t anything you can do or say to change her mind so you take the updated workout plans with a fake smile. She also tells you that your appointment with your sports psychologist has been moved up a couple of days, which you’re grateful for. Things then move to talking strategy and watching tape of competitors to see what to expect at this year’s nationals. The event is just over a month out, and you have the goal of landing on the podium once again, hopefully with the gold medal dangling around your neck.

A couple of hours pass with you holed up in the conference room, and it’s dark when you gather your stuff and head for home. The complex is deserted and you assume no one but the staff are still here. It turns out someone else was there, and they follow you out, their own gear bag slung over their shoulder. You don’t really pay them any mind, holding the door open out of habit, and fail to recognize the person as the boy who glared while you walked by hours prior. He notices you, however, and makes a point to voice his distaste.

“Hey!” he calls out, “Next time you eat shit don’t put such a big hole in the ice. Other people need it too.”

“Get fucked,” you yell back. You really don’t have the time or energy to be accosted by a hockey player. He continues to talk, but you don’t hear it because you slam your car door shut and drive off into the darkness.

☼☼☼☼

Joel doesn’t feel like he was in the wrong until Claude suggests he apologize a few days later. In his mind, he has every right to be upset about you damaging the ice because it directly affected him. The hole you caused couldn’t be fully repaired, and he tripped at a really key moment during the scrimmage. His bad day was your fault.

“You can’t blame a tough practice on her man,” Claude says as the two of them skate a few warm-up laps. “She didn’t mean to fall. Hell, she didn’t want to do it.”

“I get it, or whatever, but it’s still her fault. We’re professional athletes G, we need to be at the top of our games.”

Claude swats Joel upside the head. “So is she! Did you know that she’s favoured to win both the national and world championships? And that things look good for her to be on the Olympic team next year?”

Joel didn’t know, and guilt twinges his stomach. The next time he runs into you at the rink he’s going to apologize.

☼☼☼☼

You spend your time away from the rink conditioning and regaining focus. The first couple of days are tough, but then you settle into a routine you believe will ultimately make you a better athlete and competitor. Your cardio and weights are upped, and you’re anxious to see how the increase improves your performance. At the suggestion of your psychologist you take a few more days off than originally planned, but it’s the best thing you could have done. You return to the rink ready to nail the final few weeks of training before nationals.

Any other coach would have detested you for taking a week off this close to a major competition, but not Brenda. She understands that you needed time to refocus and that you’ll work harder than anyone else in the time until you leave for Salt Lake City. Your first practice is fantastic – every element is clean when isolated and within your programs. The timing is off a bit during your free skate on the first run-through but your jitters settle quickly and the next one is spot on. It feels good to be back in control of things.

“I think you’re over that mental block kid,” Brenda laughs when you stop along the boards to get some water. “You’re skating better here than at home.”

You can’t help but agree. “You know, I don’t hate it here as much as I used to. Think we should move here permanently?” The comment earns you a slightly aggressive hair ruffling, but it’s worth it. You spend the last hour of ice time alone, running through both of your programs in a mock competition setting.

It’s nearly silent in the complex when Joel sneaks through the doors. The only thing he can hear is the faint sounds of your music from inside the pad. He had been worried that you were never going to reappear at the rink but learned you were just taking a break when he cornered your coach in the parking lot. The middle-aged lady had told him when you’d be returning and Joel immediately put it in his calendar so he wouldn’t forget. Now, as he stands against the glass watching you, he’s nervous. What if you don’t accept his apology?

Joel knew you were a good skater. Well, he was pretty sure you were. He spent the short three-day road trip to Florida watching as many videos of you competing on YouTube as he could find. Though he’s murky on the specifics of what makes a good figure skater, Joel knows you put heart and soul into every performance and that your elements are strong technically. Your scores reflect that. Regardless, Joel is blown away at how talented you are when he watches you skate in person.

You’re looser than in the videos he’s seen, probably because there isn’t any pressure, but you don’t give it any less than your all. The music drives you forward in a way Joel’s never seen before – you’re an extension of it, and it of you. As you round a corner to pick up speed he holds his breath. From watching footage of this program from earlier in the season, he knows you’re about to attempt your hardest element. The quadruple salchow is one of the hardest jumps female skaters are attempting at the moment, according to his research, and it’s been your most inconsistent element this season. You’re completing the jump before Joel realizes you’ve taken off the ground, but you don’t fall. He exhales and watches the rest of the program in awe.

When the music stops and you take in your surroundings, you notice the applause. Thinking it’s just from Brenda, you shrug it off, but when you turn around she isn’t clapping. It’s coming from someone else – the boy who was a douchebag the last day before your break. The chances are he’s here to make another stupid comment, but Brenda insists you should talk to him. You wave him over to a section near the benches that dosen’t have glass so you can hear him better.

“What do you want?” you ask bluntly, taking a sip of water.

Joel’s taken aback by your abrasiveness but recovers quickly. He deserves it. “I, uh, wanted to apologize for what I said last week. That wasn’t cool. I was having a bad day and took out on you, I’m sorry,” he rambles. “And you’re like really good.”

“It wasn’t fucking cool,” you agree, “But we’re fine. I had just been kicked off the ice when you caught me, so I’m sorry too. For snapping.” There’s nothing more for either of you to say, and Brenda is calling your name, so you skate away from him. Over your shoulder you call out, “Thanks for the compliment unnamed Flyers player!”

“It’s Joel!” he responds. “Joel Farabee.”

☼☼☼☼

A sort of truce befalls you and Joel. More of your ice time overlaps, but neither you acknowledge each other more than the occasional nod in each other’s direction. It doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Preparing for nationals is the only that matters currently, and trying to navigate a possible friendship would be too much of a distraction. Joel is a little put off you don’t try to extend pleasantries, but when it’s explained to him that you’re entering a period that is similar to the lead-up to playoffs he understands.

However, he finds himself making up excuses to stay at the rink to watch you practice. He blows off dinner with Kevin and drinks with Morgan when you have the slot after practice, and when you skate before him he’s at the rink hours early. His schoolboy crush becomes the topic of locker room gossip. Though Joel swears up and down that he just likes to watch you skate, none of the guys believe him. They don’t go as far as to embarrass him in your presence, but Travis certainly tries. What Joel doesn’t know is that you’re developing the same sort of fascination with him. You find yourself turning on every Flyers game you can fit into your schedule, watching him intently, and keeping an eye on his stats.

“That boy sure has a lot of interest in you,” Brenda muses one day while you’re talking strategy on how to increase the points total on your short program.

“I don’t know why,” you sigh. “So I was thinking, if I raise my arms during the triple lutz it should give me at least three more points.”

She looks at you like you’ve gained two extra heads. “Are you insane? You’ve never raised your arms during a triple.”

Your smile turns into a wicked smirk. “It can’t be that hard.”

It’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. Though you’ve added the extra step to jumps in the past, it’s been on single and doubles to rack up points and GOE scores. Jumping has never been your strong suit, and trying to navigate the change in your centre of gravity is difficult. You spend the rest of your ice time popping, under-rotating, or slamming into the ground. A couple of juniors snicker at your failed attempts, but when you remind them they’re stuck on a double loop they stop laughing. It was a little mean, and you remember how hard it was to prove yourself as a junior, but you can’t find it in you to care. There’s no need to laugh at someone trying to improve their skating.

Bruises start to form on your sides from falling the exact same way so many times, and you trace them lightly through the thin material of your compression top. They’re going to look nasty in a few hours if you don’t ice them soon. A knock on the door stops your actions, and you invite the person on the other side in. To your surprise it’s Joel, and he’s holding an ice pack.

“I thought you might need one of these,” he says, extending it to you.

You thank him and hiss slightly when the cold hits your skin. There’s a beat of awkward silence before Joel speaks again. “Can I ask why you’re trying to change that jump?”

“You noticed that?” you know it isn’t a response to his question, but you’re shocked.

Joel smiles and nods. You explain how changing the position of your arms increases the difficulty of the jump and therefore raises the amount of points it can receive. “So you’re doing it to get more points?”

“Pretty much. It’s a gamble this close to competition, but I’m confident it’ll work out.”

“You’re afraid your program won’t gain enough points to put you in a good position for the free skate,” he notes, “Or you wouldn’t be doing this.”

Once again, you’re floored by Joel’s understanding of your sport. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” you say as confidently as you can. “But maybe I just want the challenge.” If Joel notices the shake in your voice and the worried look in your eye he doesn’t say anything.

You go through your cool-down routine but are surprised Joel doesn’t leave. In fact, he stays at the rink until you’re finished and follows you to the parking lot. His car is parked a few spots over from you, so you have to raise your voice a little to get him to hear you. “Hey Joel,” you call, “Do you not have practice?”

“Day off,” he yells back. He’s grinning like an idiot, which prompts you to ask him why. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.” The smile on his face doesn’t go away, and you try to settle the butterflies in your stomach as you drive home.

☼☼☼☼

Something shifts between you and Joel after that day. It’s subtle, but you’re well on your way to becoming friends. Phone numbers are exchanged, with him insisting his contact name be ‘King Beezer’, and the two of you chat regularly outside of the rink. He still watches as many training sessions as he can, and you start making appearances at his practices. It’s far more awkward for you but you push through it if for no other reason than wanting to be a good sport. Once Joel’s teammates catch wind of your budding friendship, they’re pestering you to go to a game. You politely decline each time, explaining that your training schedule is rather rigid and you can’t change it so close to nationals. The competition is just over a week out, and you’re catching a flight to Utah in three days.

Joel doesn’t let you know he’s a little upset you won’t shift your schedule for him. Instead, he brings you lunch on days where you’re at the rink for eight hours and does his individual workouts alongside you. The two of you fall into the easy routine of enjoying each other’s company and everyone else is beginning to take notice.

“So,” you say with a mouth full of the pita Joel brought you, “What are your plans for the All-Star break?”

Joel has been toying with an idea for a few weeks now, but he’s keeping it a secret. “I’m just gonna spend it at home with my family,” he shrugs.

“You’re fucking joking. Joel, you could be someplace warm enjoying the beach!”

“I don’t want to go to the beach,” Joel retorts.

You open your mouth to argue with him, because you’re of the opinion that everyone should love the beach, but you’re cut off by Brenda calling you to return to the ice. “This conversation isn’t over Beezer,” you say sternly, poking him in the chest to prove your point. He rolls his eyes.

“I’ve gotta be at Wells Fargo in an hour for a team meeting, so I can’t watch this session,” he tells you. You’re a little deflated but understand he can’t play hookie from his job to watch you do yours. Brenda is banging a skate guard on the boards to get your attention, so you wave goodbye and jog over to her. “Y/N,” Joel yells loud enough that you’ll hear him over the chatter on the ice, “Keep your core tight!”

Your coaching team is perplexed at the comment because it’s second nature to you at this point, but you think it’s sweet. Some of the other girls poke fun at your ‘boyfriend’ and it makes you irritable. Brenda tells them off and suggests they get back to work which makes you feel better. You keep Joel’s advice in the back of your mind for the rest of your practice, and land every jump almost flawlessly.

The day before you board your flight you have a terrible practice. Brenda chalks it up to nerves, but you that’s not it. You feel good about the competition and are confident it will go well. Something is off – you just can’t put a finger on it. Frustration eventually boils over and practice is called early. Everyone stays out of your way, letting you cool off, and you huff out a goodbye after promising to meet Brenda at the airport in the morning. Before you’re even out the door you’ve got your phone pressed to your ear, waiting for Joel to pick up. The Flyers got to start their break a day early due to a scheduling conflict and you hope he doesn’t fly home tonight.

“What’s up?” Joel says casually. Judging by the background noise he’s playing video games, no doubt some dumb first-person shooter game he seems to play constantly. The sound of his voice is enough to send you into tears and you can’t get out a reply. His tone changes instantly and the noise stops – the game paused and forgotten about. “Hey,” he soothes, “What’s wrong?”

“Practice was bad,” you choke out, “Like really bad. Joel, I don’t think I can do this.” Now across the parking lot and at your car, you throw your bag in the trunk and crumble into the driver’s seat.

“Of course you can. Want me to bring dinner over and we can do whatever?” You agree, not wanting to be alone, and hang up only after insisting you’re okay to drive the twenty minutes to your apartment.

Joel must have drove well above the speed limit because he pulls into the parking lot at the same time as you. His engine is turned off jarringly fast, and he’s popping your trunk to grab your bag before your gears have settled in park. Though you put up some rather weak protests about carrying your own stuff, Joel ignores them. When you insist on holding something he tosses you the bag of food he brought with him. Opening it up, you realize Joel had stopped at your favourite sushi restaurant even though he doesn’t like the food. A smile creeps onto your face, possibly the first one all day, and you lean into Joel slightly when he wraps an arm around your shoulder.

The two of you eat in silence, but it’s far from awkward. Joel’s waiting for you to open up, knows you will eventually, and you’re trying to find the words. However, they’re yet to appear, so you let Joel lead you to the couch and put on an episode of some crime show he’s currently watching.

“Thanks for coming over,” you say as the credits roll on the second episode.

Joel sends a smile your way, which you do your best to reciprocate. “Don’t worry about it. This is what friends do.”

Slowly, you open up about practice, venting about how you skated sloppily and couldn’t nail any element no matter how simple it was. You tell him about how tense your muscles are and how scared you are that your fifteen minutes of fame are over, that you’ll never get another chance to represent America on the world stage. Joel listens attentively, letting you speak for as long as you need. At some point you start crying again and he tucks you into his side. Your tears soak through his sweatshirt but he could care less. When you’ve laid all your emotions out on the table he speaks gently, dispelling your doubts and letting you know that you can do it and he believes in you. Joel’s words make it easier to believe in yourself.

The two of you spend the night on the couch, and you’re disheartened when your alarm goes off. You can’t stay in the little bubble Joel created for the two of you – the world and its responsibilities taking precedence over your fantasy. He drives you to the airport, rationalizing it by telling you it’ll be safer to keep your car at home. Realistically there isn’t a difference, but you thank him anyways. Parking is just one last thing you have to worry about. When you reach the airport entrance, Joel pulls into the idling lane and steps out of the car. You follow him, dragging your feet a bit because though you’re excited for nationals you don’t want to leave Joel. This will be the longest time the two of you have been apart since becoming friends.

“Make sure you don’t forget about me when you win and get all famous,” Joel jokes, handing you your suitcase.

You swat his shoulder playfully. “Like you’d let that happen.”

“Of course I wouldn’t. Come here.”

He takes you in his arms. You’ve hugged Joel a couple of times before, but they didn’t feel as serious as this. This time he’s holding you for a purpose and you’re gripping the back of his jacket tightly because you want him to let go. It’s longer than people who are just friends are meant to hug for, so you begrudgingly pull away. Besides, Brenda and some of your teammates are waiting.

“Have a good time at home,” you mumble.

Joel wraps a single arm around you for one more squeeze. “You have a good time,” he says seriously. “Remember to enjoy the moment. I’ll be watching on T.V.”

With your goodbyes said you wander into the airport. Joel says parked in his spot until he sees you embrace Brenda before driving off. The boarding process is painless, and once on the plane you take your seat beside a junior and put your headphones on. Downloaded to your Spotify is one of Joel’s hip-hop playlists, and though it’s the farthest thing from the music you enjoy you listen to it the whole flight.

☼☼☼☼

Utah’s nice, but you can’t help feeling like something’s missing – Joel’s missing. You’ve become so accustomed to him watching you train, clapping like an idiot every time you land a jump, that the silence is unnerving. Everyone notices the shift in your performance, and eventually Brenda crumbles and uses your phone to facetime him while you practice. It’s a decent enough substitute – Joel watches your pixelated figure zip around the ice and though he doesn’t always make comments, just know he’s with you in some capacity is enough to let your mind focus on the task at hand. You do the best you can at pushing away the butterflies that appear every time you think about how he’s giving up his freedom to make sure you succeed.

When you aren’t training or doing press you’re talking to Joel. You call him constantly, narrating what you see on walks around town to settle your nerves and eating at the same time to make it feel like you’re together. The only person to support you in Salt Lake City is Brenda, so talking to Joel frequently makes you feel far less alone. You wish he could be here with you, but understand he needs time to recharge and can’t just follow you around the country no matter how much you’d like him to.

“What time do you skate tomorrow?” Joel asks, mouth full of the pizza he’s enjoying. The features behind are different, so you assume he’s settled into his childhood home.

“Um, I think 11:35? I’m not entirely sure,” you respond. Due to the way the event is seeded you’re skating second last, which both settles your nerves and makes you more anxious. There isn’t the pressure of closing out the event, but there’s hope that you’ll score high enough to win the short program and skate last in the free skate.

Joel hums pensively. “I’ll check the website.” Conversation shifts away from skating, which you’re grateful for. It’s the last thing you currently want to think about. You listen with interest as Joel recounts stories of the pond hockey matches he’s played since getting home. The two of you are on the phone until nearly ten, when you have to say goodnight and head to bed. Tomorrow marks the start of the biggest week of your year.

You follow your pre-competition routine to the letter. At other events this season you’ve been more relaxed, but your professional skating career depends on your performance at nationals so you aren’t taking chances. Five-thirty comes faster than you thought it would, but you’re out of bed and eating your first breakfast quickly. A quick two mile run follows, and then you’re having a shower and grabbing a second breakfast to eat at the rink. You meet Brenda in the hotel lobby before ubering to the rink. A solid practice follows, and you manage to keep your imposter syndrome on a leash in the presence of the other skaters.

“It’s Joel,” Brenda says as she tosses you your phone.

“Hey,” you say, squeezing the device between your ear and shoulder. “I don’t have much time to talk. My warm up call is soon.”

Joel laughs and you find yourself cracking a smile at the sound. “I know. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling.”

“Honestly? I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous for a competition.”

His response is cut off by a loud noise. “Where are you?” you ask.

“Just at home,” he says quickly. “My sister has some friends over and they’re being loud.”

The line is compelling enough that you don’t question how hastily it was delivered. Joel stays on the phone until you have to go, keeping your mind off the jittery feeling in your stomach. The TV cameras catch you talking but you give them a cheery wave and continue telling Joel about how good the soap at your hotel smells. You hang up when they call your flight to take to the ice for warmup and give your phone back to Brenda for safe keeping.

☼☼☼☼

Joel tries hard not to feel too out of place while he takes his seat. For someone who practically lives in arenas he feels like it’s his first time within fifty yards of one. Everyone around him is dressed nicely, and he’s acutely aware of the fact there is a neon orange pom-pom attached to the top of his hat.

As much as he feels like a baby deer trying to stand, Joel’s beyond excited to be here. It’s been a while since he’s gone somewhere that wasn’t hockey related and getting to support you while he does it is the best scenario ever. There are some potential looks of recognition from those around him, but thankfully no one approaches.

Skaters begin to take the ice and he scans vigilantly for you. You’re doing the best you can to stay warm, jacket zipped all the way up and gloves on your hands. Joel notices you seem to be the loosest of the girls below him but isn’t sure if that’s a good thing. You skate a few quick laps before warming up some jumps. Everything goes well, though he can tell you under-rotated a few of them and didn’t attempt the one quad in your program. The warm up is over as quickly as it began and you’re herded off the ice. Joel sinks a little further in his seat as gets ready to watch your competitors.

☼☼☼☼

There’s just over five minutes until you take to the ice. You keep your body moving, walking up and down the corridor, and blast your pre-competition playlist so loud you’ll probably have hearing damage when you’re older. Only one other girl in the hall with you but it feels too small. Brenda comes to grab you and the pair of you walk to the side of the boards. You don’t watch who’s currently skating, choosing instead to focus on adjusting your feet slightly in your skates.

“Go out there and put on a show,” Brenda says. “Fuck the judges.”

You laugh at her remark. “Okay Bren, when I lose points for flipping them off I’m blaming you.”

“Fine by me. I have a bone to pick with Mark Johnson anyways.”

The scores for the previous girl are being announced, so you peel your jacket from your frame and do a couple more laps. Right before your name is announced you press your forehead to Brenda’s. It’s a ritual you started back when you were barely as tall as the boards and you’ve done it every single competition since. You feel grounded looking in her eyes, and you break with a fist bump. It’s go time.

Every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire. You didn’t come to play, and leave everything on the ice. The skate isn’t completely clean, you stumbled on the landing of a triple axel, but you’re happy with it. Despite your fears, both the triple lutz and quad salchow go smoothly. Audience engagement was at an all time high and you finished to deafening applause. Brenda wraps you in a tight hug when you step off the ice before leading you over to the kiss and cry. You chat idly with her and your choreographer, trying to catch your breath, while you wait for your score.

The announcer’s booming voice crackles over the PA as he reads the judges’ decision. “The scores for Y/N Y/L/N please.” You don’t pay attention to the individual numbers, just the final total. “For a total score of 74.83.”

It’s lower than you had hoped for. Not by much, just two or three points, but it could mean all the difference in tomorrow’s skate. Brenda pats your leg sympathetically and whispers in your, “It’s alright. You skated well.”

You head back to the dressing room to watch the final skater on the small T.V in the corner while you get undressed. She’s phenomenal, and you end the day falling to third place. Joel’s hip-hop playlist blasts through your headphones as you do your cool down routine. The average tempo is upbeat and helps to take your mind off the fact you’re not where you want to be. Just as you’re about to exit the room and find Brenda to talk strategy there’s a knock on the door.

“Yeah?” you say dejectedly, the word coming out as more of a sigh than you had intended.

The door is cracked open, and the head of your best friend peaks out from around it. “Hey there rockstar,” Joel says softly, stepping further into the room. Once you comprehend that he’s really here you’re sprinting in his direction, jumping into his embrace. Joel’s laugh reverberates in his chest, and you feel it as you settle further into him.

“Why are you here?” you whisper. Though you’re elated Joel is here, you’re confused as to why he would want to spend his break in Utah.

He lets you down gently and shrugs. “I had to see if you’d land the quad.” Joel’s smile matches yours as you shake your head.

“You’re fucking insane,” you quip, but there’s no malice in your voice.

Before you can pester Joel into answering all your questions you’re whisked away to a press conference. Talking to the media is something you don’t particularly enjoy, and it’s even more difficult to stay present when you know you could be spending time with your best friend. Most of the questions are directed towards the girls who placed higher than you which you’re thankful for. It’s easier for you to zone out, and you root through your mind of places around the city to take Joel.

“Y/N, how tough will it be for you to better your scores in tomorrow’s free skate?”

The question is one that you expected, luckily, and you’re able to recite the response you worked out with Brenda without really engaging with the reporter. “I mean I obviously didn’t aim to be in third place heading into tomorrow,” you joke, “But I’m fairly happy with where I ended up. The other girls had fantastic skates and deserve to be above me. My plan for tomorrow is to leave everything on the ice, skate cleanly, and be proud of myself regardless of what happens.”

Pens scribble furiously by those that don’t have recording devices to get your words down on paper. There’s some chatter, questions for the other girls, before a young reporter fresh out of journalism school is allowed to speak. He identifies himself as Theo Rateliff before jumping in. “Y/N,” he says, “How excited are you to get back to training on home ice when you get back to Jersey?”

“Um, I didn’t know the renovations were finished,” you stammer. “As far as I know, I’ll be at Flyers SkateZone until the end of the season.”

Theo shakes his head. “My partner was informed this morning that the rink will be good to go by the time you get back.”

You turn to the side to look at Brenda, who just shrugs. “Well, to be quite honest I’ll miss being in Voorhees. I had fun skating there and feel like the rink prepared me well for this competition.”

“Obviously not well enough,” Theo retorts, not missing a beat. “Your odds of winning dropped by seventy-seven percent.”

“Thank you for the reminder Theo,” you snap. “Are we done here?”

The press-coordinator shakes their head in confirmation, and you rip the microphone off your jacket before stomping off. People clear a path for you, not wanting to get caught in your storm. You run right to Joel who lets you direct him out of the arena and into the uber he called while you were wrapping up.

It’s a silent ride, Joel knowing you aren’t in the mood for light conversation. He lets you take a ridiculously long shower and orders take out that arrives just as you step out of the bathroom.

“Where are you staying?” you ask as you detangle your hair.

“Nowhere yet,” Joel says, “I got in early this morning and went straight to the rink.”

You think carefully about your next words before you speak. Your competition routines can be excessive and annoying, and you don’t want to inconvenience him. “You could just stay here. The room is massive and there’s more than enough space for both of us in the bed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, voice taking a soft lilt. “I’d really like it if you stayed.”

Joel smiles wider than you’ve ever seen him do before. The two of you sit comfortably in bed, eating the burritos Joel got and going down a conspiracy theory youtube wormhole. He asks how you feel about him coming to watch your evening training session you have to leave for in twenty minutes. You tell him you’d be angry if he didn’t stand beside your coach and clap every time you landed a jump.

It’s chilly but the sun is shining bright so you decide to bundle up and walk to the rink. Joel pokes fun at you beanie and you swat him in the chest, shutting him up for the time being after his giggles subside. The view is gorgeous, mountains framing the setting sun. You squeeze Joel’s bicep to get his attention and relish the feeling of his muscle in your grip.

“Look! An owl!”

Sure enough, a barn owl is flying over top of you, in the middle of downtown Salt Lake City. “That’s my good luck charm. Means I’ll skate well tomorrow.”

Joel pokes your cheek lightly. “I thought I was your good luck charm,” he gasps.

You roll your eyes. “I guess you can be my secondary one.” Joel doesn’t seem to mind the fact your arms are still wrapped around his, so you stay that way until for the rest of the journey.

☼☼☼☼

The night goes according to plan. You skate well in practice and feel comfortable for tomorrow’s event. Joel executes his role perfectly, cheering when you do things well and squirting water at you to make you squeal in laughter when things get a little too serious. Once back at the hotel you collapse into bed almost immediately. You’re so exhausted you can’t even be bothered to climb under the covers, and wait until Joel pulls them back for himself to crawl in. There’s no awkwardness at sharing a bed with Joel, and you sigh contently as he pulls you into his side. Sleep comes easily then for the both of you.

You wake before both your alarm and Joel. It takes you a second to get your bearing and realize you’re pinned against his body, though you don’t mind. There’s worse places to be stuck. You lay curled into Joel for as long as you can, but eventually you have to shake him awake.

“Beezer,” you whisper, ruffling his hair, “You’ve gotta let me out.”

He groans something unintelligible but instead of heeding your words pulls you closer. “Joel come on,” you try again, “I’ve really gotta get up. Need to shower before I get to the rink.”

Joel listens this time, but only lets you go after squeezing you tight for a second. You go about your routine with him still passed out in bed and giggle at the way his hair curls around his ears when you pass by. As you’re leaving to get to your practice ice slot Joel wakes up, lumbering into the bathroom. He reappears a minute or two later to say goodbye.

“Will I see you after practice?” he asks, voice still gruff with sleep.

“Probably not,” you reply, leaning down to tie your shoes. “I won’t be coming back here until after everything is done.”

Joel nods and wraps you in a warm hug. “You’re going to do great,” he says as he pulls away. “I’ll be there, cheering so fucking loud.”

“I expect you to throw a teddy bear on the ice after I finish.”

The walk to the arena is lonely without Joel, but you push the thought out of your mind. You need to stay focused on putting on the skate of your life in a few hours and not on how lately you’ve been having more-than-friendly thoughts about your best friend. Brenda is there when you arrive, making conversation about what you did last night with Joel before explaining how you’re going to run your practice.

Your hour of semi-private ice passes in the blink of an eye. The other girls in your flight are just as tense as you, popping jumps and doing a lot of stroking to loosen up. A lot is riding on today’s event and you’d be lying if you weren’t feeling the pressure. When you get back to the dressing room and check your phone, you notice there’s a text from Joel.

Don’t want to disrupt your pre-comp routine, but I thought I’d share a playlist. It’s songs that remind me of you.

Included is a link to a spotify playlist entitled ‘my golden girl’. You open it with a smile, noticing that it starts with some of your favourite songs even though they aren’t the kind of thing Joel regularly listens to before turning into things you’ve never heard before.

Thanks <3, you respond, going to listen to it during my off-ice.

That’s exactly what you do. It filters through your headphones for hours as you stretch, do a quick interview for those watching on television, and get dressed. Though it’s a break from your typical routine, it’s welcome. Knowing Joel thought about you enough to make you a playlist and send it to you helps calm your nerves.

“Hey kiddo,” Brenda says as she walks to where you’ve taken up root on the floor. Your left hamstring is tight, and you’re trying desperately to fix it before you have to go on the ice. “Go out there and absolutely kill it. This is your best program, and I haven’t seen anyone skate better than what you can do today.”

“Gee thanks for the confidence booster Bren,” you chuckle before hoisting yourself onto the bench to tie your skates.

She doesn’t laugh. “I mean it Y/N. You can still win this thing.”

You’re left alone to finish getting ready and then join the other girls in the tunnel. No one talks, which you’re grateful for. When you were younger and coming up through the ranks the other competitors liked to gossip while they waited and it was your least favourite part of an entire competition. A camera man waits at the end of the walkway, filming your arrival to the ice pad, and you wave cheerily as you pass by. It can never hurt to endear yourself to those watching at home – maybe they’ll be nicer to you on the internet.

Joel is standing at the edge of the boards during your warmup, watching and cheering intently. In a moment of insane confidence you blow him a kiss as you skate past, and giggle hysterically when he catches it and holds it close to his chest. You’re called off the ice then and spend the time really getting into the zone.

It’s considered bad luck to watch the performances before your own, so you face the wall as you do jog lightly to keep your body temperature up and the adrenaline flowing. Much sooner than you’d like it’s your turn to take your guards and jacket off. Brenda holds your skating hands as she whispers last minute words of encouragement, and you stumble through the traditional handshake before presenting yourself to the crowd.

Once the music starts your brain checks out and instinct takes over. You learned when you were younger that your best skates happened when you just allowed yourself to feel, and you desperately need the skate of a lifetime. Going into the first jumping pass you can feel yourself tense up so you think about Joel’s smile while you guys sat by the lake last night. It works to loosen you up, and you spend the rest of the program thinking of your favourite moments with Joel. As you strike your final pose the music fades out and the roars of applause cascade in. You know you had a flawless performance, beaming as you fist pump the air in the same manner you chirp Joel for doing while he celebrates goals.

You bow to the crowd in all directions, waving and laughing as flowers and teddy bears fall onto the ice in front of you. An orange blob of fur catches your eye, and you skate to pick it up before one of the volunteers could put it in the bag that will join your garment bag in the dressing room. You know Joel is the one who threw the Gritty toy – no one else really knows of your affiliations with the team. As you sit in the kiss and cry awaiting your results, you examine the stuffed animal. Instead of the regular Gritty jersey Joel replaced it with his own, the number flashing vividly at you and pulling a smile from your nervous features.

Brenda keeps her hand clasped tightly in yours as the PA system crackles to life. “And the scores for Y/N Y/L/N are,” the announcer begins, and your knee begins bouncing rapidly. “The free skate score is 155.79, for a total score of 230.62.”

You jump up in amazement. Despite your slow start to the competition you managed to get a season’s best. You’re also five points ahead of the second place skater, guaranteeing you a place on the podium and depending on the final results, a spot at worlds. A volunteer ushers you out of the kiss and cry and you skip all the way down the tunnel. To get out some of the adrenaline you jog the corridor a few times before returning to Brenda.

“Come on,” she laughs, “Joel’s waiting at the edge of the public area. We can watch the final skate together.”

At the mention of Joel you’re jogging again, wanting to see him as fast as possible. “Beezer!” you shriek as you approach, launching into the elaborate handshake the two of you have perfected at this point.

“Hey golden girl,” he chuckles, returning your actions with just as much enthusiasm. “You looked fucking great out there. I see you got my gift.”

The Gritty doll is still in your hands but there’s no shame. Instead, you tuck it under your arm and rest your head against Joel’s shoulder to watch the final skater. The girl after you had fallen a number of times, dropping her total significantly and landing her in fifth place. Victory is so close you can almost taste it.

It’s the longest six minutes of your life. Watching her skate increases your anxiety – she’s good, has almost as great a skate as you, but she under-rotated a jump and rushed through her program so there was extra music at the end. The clock above your head rings throughout the silent corridor as everyone awaits the scores with baited breath. In under a minute you’ll know whether you’re returning to New Jersey with a gold or silver medal in your suitcase.

You don’t hear anything as they announce her score – just see the numbers flash of the small T.V screen and calculate that it’s not enough for her to beat you. After years of blood, sweat, and an immeasurable amount of tears you’ve crossed another goal off your list. Those around you are jumping and screaming, Brenda letting a few tears escape. All you can think about is Joel, who’s celebrating like he just scored the game winning goal in the Stanley Cup finals, and how much you love him.

Without thinking, you smash your lips against Joel’s. It’s adrenaline filled and mostly teeth until he wraps one hand around your waist and the places the other along your jaw. Then it becomes purposeful, both of you moving in tandem and never wanting it to stop. When Joel pulls away and rests his forehead against yours you can’t stop smiling. The kiss might have happened in the heat of the moment, but you know it’s the culmination of feelings building inside of you for months.

“You’re a national champion,” Joel says, pulling you flush against his chest in the biggest hug you’ve ever received.

“I’m your national champion,” you whisper.

He pulls back and grins, kissing you again. “You’re my national champion. My golden girl.”

The rest of your stay in Salt Lake City is a blur. You’re swept up in the numerous press events, galas, and enjoying your blossoming relationship with Joel. When you finally got back to the hotel after what seemed like hours of people complimenting your comeback, the two of you sat down and talked about the kiss and what you wanted to happen next. It was scary, being so vulnerable, but it needed to happen – you’re both adults and communication is important. So, you’re returning home with a gold medal and boyfriend, two things you’re ecstatic about.

☼☼☼☼

“J, it’s not straight,” you giggle. Joel’s trying, and failing miserably, to hang the shadow box with your nationals medal in it above your couch. It’s been almost a month since you returned home but you’ve been so busy that decorating the apartment you barely spend time in has been at the bottom of your to-do list.

He grunts out a response. “Fuck. Do I have to go left or right?”

“Left.” The picture shifts in the opposite direction. “The other left Joel!”

A few minutes later the decoration is sitting perfectly in place. Your child of a boyfriend insists on getting rewarded for his achievement, so the two of you bundle up and get dinner. It’s nothing fancy – just sandwiches from the deli down the street from your apartment, but spending time with him is nice. Joel’s been on a string of short road trips and you’ve been training anxiously, waiting for the organization to announce who they’re sending to the world championship.

“How’s practice been lately?” Joel asks, mouth full with a bite of his BLT. “I miss being able to watch you skate whenever I want.”

After returning from Utah you were shuttled immediately into the freshly renovated rink of your skating club. It’s a little farther into Jersey and certainly not as convenient for him to get to, especially now that the NHL season is picking up and the Flyers are clinging desperately to the final playoff spot. “It’s been interesting,” you shrug, “I’m skating well, and physically I feel great. There’s a mental block or something though because everything feels a little bit off.”

The smile that graces Joel’s face can only be described as shit-eating. “Duh, I’m not there.”

“Fuck off.” Though you try to make the words come out in a serious tone, there’s no malice in them.

Conversation flips to some ridiculous story Travis told at practice that morning, and you giggle as Joel recounts it with failing arms. You tell a few stories of your own, that leave him in stitches, and as you walk home hand in hand he asks you again to come to a game. With your schedule a little more flexible as you wait for a decision about the upcoming competition stint it will be much easier to see Joel play. You say yes with a shy smile and don’t miss the way the boy beside you blushes under the streetlights.

Joel stays over, and the next two nights after that. It’s nice, falling into a relationship with your best friend, because there’s no awkwardness. You know what kind of cereal to keep in your pantry and he knows you don’t eat meat on Mondays. Everything is easy. There are a fews in the road, as can be expected with any budding relationship, but for the most part your lives fit seamlessly together.

After some meticulous planning, you found a home game on the Flyers schedule that will coincide with yours. It’s a Friday night near the end of February, and it’s actually the last day US Figure Skating can announce their assignments for worlds. You figure watching your boyfriend is the perfect way to distract yourself from the decision, whether or not you make the team. Joel’s ecstatic about your attendance, wanting you to be immersed in as many aspects of his life as possible. The entire day he’s bouncing around your apartment, beyond ready for puck drop.

“It’s literally three in the afternoon,” you grumble as Joel corrals you into the hall to put your shoes on. “You never leave this early! Why do we have to do it today?” In an attempt to save gas and lower your carbon footprint you’re carpooling with Joel.

“Because being in this house is making you more anxious,” he points out. “I’ve caught you staring into the distance one too many times today. Besides, this way you can meet up with some of the other girls and relax before the game.”

Joel’s right, as he so often is. Your agent hasn’t called to let you know if you made the team or not, nor has US Figure Skating made an announcement on social media. So you’ve spent the entire day pacing back and forth around your living room and fretting that perhaps the best performance of your season wasn’t good enough. He twirls his car keys around his index finger in an attempt to speed you along and you roll your eyes at his impatience.

After ensuring your home is safely secured you hit the road. The drive into Philadelphia is easy, with little traffic, and you spend it laughing at Joel’s ridiculous freestyle raps. It doesn’t surprise you that the staff lot at the Wells Fargo Centre is sparsely populated – most of the guys don’t show up until around five, Joel included. However, a group of women are standing near the entrance. While this isn’t the first time you’ve met significant others of your boyfriend’s teammates, it’s the first time Joel won’t be around.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispers as the car settles into park. You offer a small smile that mustn't have been convincing because Joel lifts the hand that’s intertwined with his to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to the knuckles. The smile becomes genuine and you tease him the entire walk to the door.

Joel greets the other girls before setting his bag down on the concrete and wrapping you in a hug. “Have fun,” you say softly against his lips, landing a short kiss. He winks and opens the door, disappearing inside and leaving you in a fit of giggles.

There was no reason for you to be nervous – everyone is incredibly kind. You seem to be the youngest in the group, but the other girls pay no mind and treat you as one of their own. There’s a small amount of confusion when your phone chimes with a notification, a few glances of possible distaste, but as soon you explain you’re waiting on a very important call they understand. Dinner is wonderful, filled with sincere questions about your skating career and how you got together with Joel. By the time you get back to the arena for the game it feels as though you’ve been a part of the group for years.

You spend the game in the family and friends box, sipping a glass of wine and following Joel around the ice. Practice is early in the morning and you want to be productive, so you’re relaxed in your alcohol consumption compared to some of the others. One of the older girls, though you can’t remember what player is her significant other, recently got engaged and is celebrating with as many drinks as those around her will allow. It’s fun to experience a hockey game in this way, but you’re a little on edge. You haven’t anything about worlds assignments all day and the organization doesn’t typically leave the announcement to this late in the evening. There’s seven minutes left in the game when your phone rings. You quickly excuse yourself from the group and step into the hall.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” the chipper voice of your agent Megan says, “How are you?”

A nervous laughter tumbles from your lips. “I think that depends on what you’re about to tell me.”

“I imagined you’d say something along those lines,” she responds. “You’ve always been quite witty.” Before you ask her to just get to the point of the phone call, Megan speaks. “I have some good news and some bad news for you. You’re going to the World Championships, but you aren’t leading the team like we hoped.”

It’s not as bad as she made it sound. A breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes, and you try your best to remain professional in the hallway of the arena. “Honestly,” you sigh, “I think that’s better. There’s going to be a lot less pressure for me to bring home three Olympic spots. Thanks for letting me know Meg.” She hangs up then, no doubt having to tell another girl she didn’t make the cut.

When you slip back through the door, you find all eyes on you. “What was that about?”

“I made the roster for worlds.”

Earth-shattering applause erupts from everyone in the room, and no one pays attention to what happens on the ice for the remainder of the game. The congratulations continue until you’re waiting outside the dressing room for Joel to exit. He had a good game, featuring two assists and a blocked shot, and smiles lazily when he sees you leaning against the brick wall.

“This is something I could get used to,” he chuckles, pulling you into him by the belt loops of your jeans. The two of you kiss for a moment, letting it stay chaste in fear of getting chirped by teammates.

“Well,” you sigh dramatically, drawing out the suspense of what you’re about to say, “You’re going to have to wait a bit longer for it to become a regular occurrence. My training schedule just increased exponentially.”

Joel sits on your words for a moment before it registers. “No fucking way!” he shouts, picking you up by the waist as the two you are a pairs team. “You got the spot?”

Having Joel be so excited about the accomplishment makes it seem that much more real. Tears well in your eyes and you shake your head up and down to signal he’s correct. Joel presses his lips to yours once again, this time not caring about any insults his friends could throw at him. The kiss makes you feel loved, fully and completely, and you hope you’re conveying the same amount of emotion he is.

“That’s my girl.”

☼☼☼☼

“Oh my fucking god,” you grumble, picking yourself off the ice for what feels like the hundredth time in the past five minutes. There’s two weeks until you leave for Milan and it looks like you’ve never skated before. Jumps are being under-rotated, spins aren’t being entered properly, and your footwork sequence is abysmal. Nothing about the way you’re performing would let a newcomer know you’re a world class athlete.

Brenda gives you a sympathetic smile. “Just try again kiddo.”

You do try again – fifteen more times to be exact. Each attempt at a triple axel getting farther and farther from what it should be. Before you get even more frustrated you abandon the element altogether, hoping to avoid a complete meltdown. No one questions it when you shift disciplines completely and move about the ice completing a simple foxtrot pattern. Ice dance has always been a great de-stresser for you, and after a few passes you feel your heart rate return to normal. At some point during your break Joel had entered the rink and is now standing beside your coach, making pleasant conversation. You smile as you skate towards them, ecstatic that the two most important parts of your life blend seamlessly.

“Farabee!” you shout when you get close enough for him to hear you. At the sound of your voice Joel smiles, turning to pick up your water bottle and toss it in your direction.

“I’m wounded babe,” he feigns pain as you take a drink, “I really thought that we were on at least a first name basis.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics and playfully squirt water at him. “I’ll call you whatever I want. What brings you this far into Jersey?”

“Thought I’d see if you wanted to grab lunch after you were done. We’ve got a late practice today,” he explains. “Whatever you want, eh? Does that mean I say whatever I want? Because I think you’re looking particularly good in those leggings.tum” You don’t miss the suggestive tone to his voice, but choose to ignore it.

Joel watches the rest of your practice from his spot at the boards and lays himself across the dressing room bench as you complete a quick cool down routine. You have a meeting with your massage therapist in the afternoon, so you follow Joel to the restaurant he chose. It’s a small vegan place that you sometimes stop at on your way home from the rink. They have the best burrito bowls you’ve ever tasted and since you’ve gotten together Joel has become rather fond of them as well.

The two of you sit outside on the curb. New Jersey is uncharacteristically warm for March and you want to enjoy the sunshine as much as possible. The rest of the day will be spent in dark rooms receiving physical therapy and trying to ease your tired muscles. There isn’t much conversation, but you’re more than content just to be with Joel. Life moves incredibly fast and your schedules don’t always line up nicely. It’s difficult to spend time with him, especially when you’re weeks out from a major competition, but small moments like this keep you from missing your boyfriend too much.

“Have I asked you to take me to the airport yet? I can’t remember,” you admit as you finish the last bite of your meal.

Joel laughs at your lapse in memory, knowing he gets the same way when high stakes games roll around. “No, but you would like me to?”

“Do you mind?” you ask, “That way I don’t have to leave my car at the airport for a week and a half. But if you can't, don't worry about it, I’ll grab an uber.”

“Babe, the uber will be like fifty bucks. I’ll take you. What time do you have to be there?”

You give him a much too detailed itinerary of your departure plans and listen to him talk about the drills they’re going to run at practice. Time passes much quicker than you would have liked, and soon you’re kissing him goodbye and watching him wave from your rearview mirror.

It’s almost a week later when you see Joel again, showing up at a Flyers practice for the first time since training moved back to your home rink. You’ve been instructed to have a rest day, the team wanting to push you too hard before taking off. The arena attendants know you well at this point, and chat with you as you sit on a bench away from the media. You know better than you alert them of your presence – some of them no doubt wanting a comment from you about worlds. Joel has no idea you’re even there until long after practice, when he sees you leaning casually against the driver’s side door of your car, conveniently parked next to his.

“Hey all-star,” you say as casually as possible, twirling your keys around your index finger.

He leans down to kiss you sweetly, and though you probably shouldn’t in a parking lot, you push your body closer to his in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Joel obliges you, tongue gently slipping into your mouth, staying there until you both hear the shouts of his teammates.

“Fuck off,” he yells at Kevin, who’s hollering so loud people can probably hear him all the way back in Philadelphia. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a day off,” you smile, and I thought I’d come see if I could hitch a ride to your place.” You had originally planned to attend the game in person, but a rough day of training yesterday had you too sore to do much other than lie on the couch.

“The chariot awaits m’lady,” he says in a terrible British accent, bowing for good measure as he opens the door. Your car will be fine in the parking lot overnight, so you slip in and enjoy the journey into the city.

Joel’s pre-game routine changes only slightly with you in his apartment – instead of napping alone, you curl into his chest and snore softly, lulling him into one of the most peaceful sleeps he’s ever had. You tie his tie for him and riffle his hair before kissing him good luck. Being alone in Joel’s apartment isn’t as strange as you thought it would be, and you familiarize yourself with his kitchen while you make dinner. The pre-game show plays quietly in the background, and when they mention how well Joel is playing you can’t help but smile.

It’s much more comfortable to watch the game in your boyfriend’s hoodie and pyjama pants on the couch than it would be to sit in the stiff arena seats. Time passes at a pretty leisurely pace, with nothing too exciting going on within the game, and sometime in the third period you fall asleep. The rest of the game and all the media appearances pass you by. Joel figures you must be sleeping when he doesn’t get a congratulatory text when Claude pulls off a buzzer beater to win. His suspensions are confirmed when he slips through his front door to see you drooling slightly on the throw pillow his mom bought him as a housewarming gift.

You don’t remember climbing into bed, but you wake up with Joel’s socked feet pressed against your calves. He stirs behind you and mummers something unintelligible.

“What was that sleepyhead?” you giggle, turning around to run a hand through his hair. It’s rather unruly at the moment and you find it adorable.

“Good morning,” he repeats.

“That’s what that was?”

“Leave me alone.”

The two of you lay in bed for a few more minutes before starting the day. You navigate around Joel flawlessly – like you’re there every morning. Breakfast is quick and you’re out the door before you have a chance to cherish the domesticity of it all. You have a pretty intense day of training and Joel has to be at the airport in two hours for a trip to Toronto. He drops you off in Voorhees, kissing you gently before making his way back into the city. You hate to see him go, wishing you could spend more time together before you head to worlds, but you know you’re both adults with real-world responsibilities.

For the first time in the final push you have a practice that is up to standard. Things click into place and you feel good. Really good. Each time you skate a program it’s clean, and the elements don’t feel weak when completed individually. Maybe you’ll actually be able to pull this off.

☼☼☼☼

Italy is beautiful, but you don’t get much time to enjoy it. A scheduling mishap has team USA leaving two days later than you were supposed to and now you’re all scrambling to find a groove. Every moment is being spent preparing for the competition – off ice training, multiple practices a day, press conferences. When you get a moment to spare you call Joel, but oftentimes he’s at practice or fulfilling other obligations. The time difference is brutal and souring your mood. You feel alone, and just wish Joel could be by your side like he was at nationals.

As soon as you step on the ice something feels wrong. You run through a mental checklist and assure that nothing is – your skates feel they way they should and you didn’t forget any gear. It must be nerves. The competition officially starts tomorrow and you’re eager to cheer on the pairs teams America has brought. You do your best to skate it out, and by the time you’re allowed to have the ice to yourself you can almost convince yourself everything will be fine.

The music starts and you snap into character. Your short program music is punchy and so are you – all sass and sharp angles as you navigate the opening step sequence. A lump forms in your throat as you set up the first first jumping pass, but you push it down. You’ve done a thousand triple lutz-triple toe-loop combinations and could execute it flawlessly in your sleep.

Everything happens so fast. One second you’re rotating through the air and the next you’re sprawled across the ice. Nothing feels off until you try to pick yourself up. When you can’t move your left leg you look to see what the issue is and find your kneecap where it most certainly should not be. It’s rotated nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, now residing in the back instead of the front.

“Help me!” you scream, mostly out of shock. There’s no pain which surprises you, but you know it definitely should hurt. Everyone around the ice surface is frozen in place, not knowing what happened or what to do, and you continue to sob helplessly.

Someone sprints to get the onsite emergency responders and Brenda runs to you as fast as her dress shoes will allow. “Don’t look at it honey,” she soothes. “It’s just going to make things worse.”

“It should hurt,” you croak out through the tears, “Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“You’ve got so much adrenaline pumping through your veins you can’t feel anything,” the EMT explains in flawless English. “Can we take your skates off?”

You nod, and the right skate comes off breezily. Brenda unlaces your left skate and the medical team works to pry the boot from your foot. A sharp pain shoots up your leg and you wail in agony. “Shh, it’s okay,” your coach coos, “The skate is going to stay on until we get to the hospital.”

The ride to the hospital feels like time is moving through sludge. The paramedics keep an eye on your blood pressure and do their best to keep you calm. Brenda is typing furiously on her phone, and you ask what she’s doing as the vehicle pulls into the ambulance bay.

“The ISU rep told me to keep him updated,” she explains. “And I’m trying to vote on which alternate is going to take your place.”

You knew that was going to happen, you couldn’t possibly skate, but it makes you unbelievably sad. All your hard work is going to amount to nothing. No one cares about national champions who don’t place at worlds, and the injury is going to sideline you in next year’s olympic race. The emergency room has a bed ready for you, and the doctor arrives as you’re being transferred into it.

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m Dr. Morelli. We’re going to put your patella back into place. It’s going to be incredibly painful, so we’re to sedate you. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you say as strongly as you can, though it comes out feeble and hoarse.

A nurse inserts an IV into your arm and smiles at you. They have you count backwards from ten, and by the time you get to eight you’re asleep. There’s a brief moment of panic when you wake up as you forgot where you are. “You’re awake,” Brenda speaks softly from the bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you admit. “It hurts so fucking bad.”

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “I know. They’re going to come get you for x-rays in a few minutes and then we’ll go back to the hotel.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp. “I’ve gotta call Joel. Bren, give me your phone.”

Laughter comes from the device’s speakers, and you realize she’s one step ahead of you.

“There’s my girl,” Joel whispers, eyes landing on yours as the phone lands in your hands. “Are you okay?”

The question makes you laugh. “You’re quite the comedian Mr. Farabee. Of course I’m not okay. My leg is currently being held together by a brace and my dreams are ruined.” You soften when you realize how upset Joel looks. “I’ll be fine J, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“There’s nothing you could have done. It was a freak accident. You can pick me up from the airport.”

He agrees in a heartbeat and tells you about his day to distract you from the pain. You’ll have to ask the nurses for some pain meds before you leave. A nurse comes to take you to the radiology department, and you hang up after reassuring him for the hundredth time that he doesn’t need to fly to Italy to bring you home himself.

Brenda holds you as the adrenaline wears off and your legs twitches rapidly as a trauma response. She helps you navigate around the small room and makes sure you’re able to use the bathroom. Luckily none of her other skaters are competing, and she’s able to travel back to Philadelphia with you once the doctor clears you. It’s a rough flight – there’s a fair amount of turbulence and each bump makes your leg throb. You don’t get a wink of sleep and are grumpy by the time you touch down in Philly. Joel’s waiting at arrivals with a giant sign and a sweet smile. You wheel yourself over to him as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his arms.

“Welcome home baby,” he whispers, leaning down to catch your lips in an airport appropriate kiss. The reason you’re home so early isn’t brought up which you're incredibly grateful for. Your untimely withdrawal is still a very sore spot.

“I wasn’t gone long,” you laugh, trying to poke fun at the situation before reality gets you too down.

“Long enough for me to miss you a tremendous amount.”

The three of you exit the airport, and Joel drops Brenda off at her house before taking you back to his place. Chuck and the rest of the management team were allowing him to miss a few games until you become more mobile and can’t exist on your own for a few hours. Joel’s bed is calling out to you, but he insists you’ll feel better after a shower and you know he’s right. Showering isn’t something you can do yourself, so Joel keeps your leg straight and elevated as you sit on the stool he bought while waiting for you to return. The grime of travelling is washed away and you feel lighter when you swing into bed, stubbornly refusing Joel’s help.

You convince him to let you watch the broadcast of the event you were supposed to be skating in. It’s probably not the best thing for your mental health, but you want to see how everyone does. Joel sits besides you, arm wrapped around your shoulder, and listens to you explain the rationale behind every element’s score. When your replacement takes the ice you go silent. It’s too much to see her skating in your place so you bury your face into Joel’s neck. There’s no jealousy like you thought there would be, just an infinite amount of sadness that you’re not able to be there.

“You’ll be able to get back there,” Joel reassures you when he feels a tear soak through his sweater.

“That’s not guaranteed,” you sniffle. “I might not ever skate again, let alone compete at any level.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, leading you to quirk a brow. “I know you. You’re going to do it. It won’t be easy, but you’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. People bounce back after major injuries all the time. I’ll be by your side the entire time, helping you through.”

“I love you,” you blurt out. The gravity of your words sinks in and you gasp. You haven’t said those words to each other yet, but they feel right.

“I love you too,” Joel smiles, kissing the tip of your nose. “Now pay attention to the TV, that girl you beat at Skate Canada is up next.”

☼☼☼☼

Recovery hasn’t been easy. There have been so many days where all you want to do is throw in the towel and cry, but Joel keeps you going. He insists you to your physical therapy exercises with him so you aren’t alone, and he comes to as many doctor’s appointments as he possibly can. After the Flyers get eliminated from the playoffs he doesn’t return home for the summer, choosing to stay in the Philly area with you. Having him there is a massive help, and you power through the pain.

The Flyers are hosting a family skate before training camp, and it will be your first time on skates in nearly six months. Your doctors have cleared it as long as you take it slow and basically let Joel pull you around the rink but you don’t care. It gives you hope that one day you’ll be back to full strength.

“Ready to do this thing?” Joel asks, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers.

You nod enthusiastically and let him pull you from the bench to the tunnel and down to the boards. Joel steps on the ice first, keeping his hands up in case you need them for support. A few of the significant others notice what’s happening and they erupt in applause once both your feet are planted on the surface. Joel joins them, his eyes watering when he sees how happy you are to be skating again.

“I do believe you promised me a few laps lover boy,” you wink.

“Yes ma’am,” Joel giggles as he mock salutes. He places his hands in yours and guides you gently, careful not to go too fast or get too close to other groups. The two of you giggle and stop to kiss frequently but no one says anything. You’ve worked incredibly hard to get here and they’re perfectly content letting you have your moment. Standing at centre ice you feel complete, and you know it’s all thanks to Joel.

☼☼☼☼

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