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illshowyourhurricanes · 5 years

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A Familiar Face

Here it is, guys: a fic featuring our sweet Ryan Brenner. Rated PG, no trigger warnings.

Word count: 2,406

Hope you enjoy!

You had seen him before.

It had been months prior, when the air held a humidity and breathing felt like exertion. You were walking to the diner, on your way to work, and you stumbled upon him just a block before your destination.

You heard him before you saw him, the strumming of a guitar pervading your ears. As you drew closer, you heard a voice accompanying the music, and that's when you saw him. He was occupying a bench across the lot from the diner, a battered guitar case open on the pavement in front of him. A small crowd of about ten people stood, listening, and you joined them-- you had a few minutes to spare. You remembered curiously thinking how rare it was to come across a busker in your town; most of them tended to go for the city. Now, in the cold , you longed for the heat of the previous summer. And it was just after that thought, that surge of a need for warmth, that you heard a vague strumming of a guitar. Drawing closer, curious as to where the music was coming from, you saw one lone figure, a weathered guitar case open by his feet. A busker. A memory of a warmer time came to mind and recognition followed.

That was how you knew you had seen him before.

It was the dead of winter, and it was the kind of cold that chilled your bones and permeated your core. The music didn't ring a bell, but it was when you drew closer and heard the voice that the realization struck you. He was on the same bench, though there was no lingering of people around this time; the cold made being outdoors unpleasant. The busker didn't seem to mind. Huddled beneath layers of clothing, it didn't seem as if he noticed the weather at all. He still strummed his guitar as if his life depended on it. He continued to sing with his voice soaked with emotion. You found yourself standing there, a lone wolf enchanted with this stranger in front of you. Your nose was numb from the cold and your fingertips were frozen beneath the gloves you wore, but you were glued to your spot on the pavement. A corner of your mind wandered, curious at how he managed to move his fingers so effortlessly in below freezing temperatures, and it took you a moment to realize the song he was singing was over, that he had become still.

Your gaze dropped to his face, and it was the first time you'd gotten a good look at him. A tattered cloth hat mostly covered dark, thick hair that was slightly overgrown. Several days of stubble covered his cheeks and jaw, and beneath the shadow of his cap were a pair of the darkest eyes you'd ever seen. It was at that point that you realized you were staring and that he definitely noticed. You looked to the ground sheepishly. If it wasn't for the absolute mortification that brought it, the sudden heating of your cheeks would have been welcome... not to mention that you'd yet to say a word.

So you appeared to be a mute with a staring problem. Awesome!

"That was really great," you spoke up finally. You looked up to the stranger once more after finally finding your voice. He offered you a small, almost shy smile and nodded in appreciation. "Thank you, ma'am." His speaking voice was a stark difference from the one he used while singing. He was much more soft-spoken than you could have imagined, and... did you detect a slight drawl? His tone was even slightly different, deeper than the one he'd used to accompany his music.

Before the moment could grow any more awkward, you had an idea. "It's uncomfortably cold out... can I buy you a cup of coffee? And by buy, I mean pour. I work at the diner." You tilted your head in the direction of your place of employment, just across the street in the corner lot.

The man looked up at you, squinting a bit due to the sunlight. The skies were clear-- thankfully, there were no chances of snow-- yet the sun offered no warmth as relief to the bitter cold. You could see his breath, a rhythmic series of short-lived clouds vanishing just as quickly as they appeared. The tip of his nose was pink from the weather.

"I'd like that," he answered. Offering you a grin, he gently set his battered guitar in its equally as worn case, closing and securing the case. A large, heavy-looking pack resting on the bench next to where he sat, he hoisted it up and over his shoulders without effort. Grabbing the guitar case by the handle, he nodded, and the two of you began walking the short distance to the diner. You were admittedly curious about a series of things. He wasn't from the area; that much was evident from the melodic way he spoke with a hint of a Southern accent. Your curiosity was piqued regarding his music, which you supposed was normal, yet you also wondered about the large pack on his back, if he had recently moved to the area or was just passing through.

"I'm Y/N, by the way," you told him, realizing that the stranger you were walking with was still completely anonymous.

"Y/N," he repeated as if he were trying out the way the vowels felt on his tongue. "I'm Ryan. Pleasure to meet you."

Pausing just outside the door of the diner, you smiled at him just before walking in. "Likewise." His polite nature was sweet and charming. You'd already gotten a 'ma'am' and a 'pleasure to meet you' out of Ryan, and in less than five sentences.

You pulled open the door, but before you could usher him inside, his free hand was on the side of the door, holding it open for you. "After you."

You thanked him as you walked inside, the surprise in your voice evident. If someone held a gun to your head, you wouldn't be able to account for the last time someone had willingly held a door open for you out of friendliness alone. Stepping into the reprieve of the building's warmth, you gestured toward the row of stools that were lined up along the bar. "You're welcome to sit wherever you'd like." You paused, a quick furrow of your brows and self-conscious laugh. "There are available tables as well, obviously. You are not sequestered to the bar area." Offering him an apologetic smile, you turned to pour him the coffee you'd promised.

With a low chuckle, he set down his guitar case and then his pack, making sure they were tucked just beside his feet as to not be in the way of any patrons passing by. "I don't mind being sequestered to the bar," he stated, returning your smile with a smaller one of his own.

"Freshly brewed!" The always-chipper, short and dimpled Sophie, who had been working at the diner as long as you had, interrupted as she whisked past you to deliver a ticket.

"You're a God-send," you called out in gratitude. "I'm sorry, one second," you apologized to Ryan, turning your back and pulling down two clean mugs. Steam billowed out from the coffee pot as you filled them both, the strong aroma filling your nose. One mug in each hand, you first delivered coffee to Mr. Willoughsby, an elderly gentleman who showed up to the diner at the same time every afternoon and always stayed for coffee after his meal. "How are you today, Mr. Willoughsby?" you asked, notifying him of his after-dinner drink. Then, you were able to get back to Ryan, placing his mug on the bar in front of him. "Oh!" you remembered, turning away just quickly enough to place two small dishes in front of him, one filled with an array of several different sweeteners, the other with both powdered and liquid creamers.

"Thank you," he drawled finally, no waiting customer or lack of sugar and creamer to keep you from conversation any longer. Raising the mug to his lips, Ryan took a tentative sip, and you mentally noted that he took his coffee black. Why you were filing this away in your brain was a mystery to even yourself, and as you mulled the thought over, Ryan's voice was what brought you back to the present. Your eyes focused on his face once more as you realized what he'd said: It's good.

"Oh, Sophie makes the best coffee out of all of us." You didn't mind bragging on your co-worker. She was the closest thing to a best friend you had. You were more of the solitary type, though people always seemed surprised to learn such; you demeanor suggested otherwise.

The diner was hitting a slow point, the guaranteed lull between late lunch eaters and early bird dinners. There were just a handful of tables occupied, only Ryan and Mr. Willoughsby at the counter.

"So, Ryan," you spoke up as he sat, warming his hands around the mug. You noticed a series of tattoos between the knuckles of each finger and wondered about the significance. "How long have you been playing guitar?"

He had such a kind, easy demeanor about him. He was quiet but it didn't seem to be the result of a lack of anything, nor a certain kind of sadness, but instead, a penchant for observation. He was glancing down into his coffee when you spoke. Eyes rising to consider your face, the expression on his own was both friendly and attentive.

"More than half my life. Started when I was just a kid. I reckon it's one of those things I never grew out of." He tasted his coffee again, taking a long, slow sip. "You're really talented. It's almost unsettling, really."

A slow smile grew into a grin, and you were struck by how handsome he was. His entire face changed, yet his demeanor stayed the same; shoulders hunched ever-so-slightly, his head ducked, the tendency to break eye contact. "Thank you," he articulated, and you caught a sense of genuine appreciation in his voice. "I appreciate that." He was humble, this man, yet he possessed talent in buckets. Your curiosity was far from squashed. If anything, it was deeper than a simple interest in this man. You felt an eagerness to know more, but without seeming intrusive.

"You've been here before. I remember." Heat spread over your cheeks at the sudden knowledge that you most likely sounded like a complete creep. That was not the type of admission that would make a guy like Ryan-- shy, quiet, private-- want to stick around for any more attempted conversation.

And here came the most unfortunate eccentricity of yours. You tended to talk more when you gave too much away. Instead of lessening the almost certain accompanying awkwardness, the tendency seemed to increase it.

"Over the summer," you added quickly, suddenly wishing for an influx of customers at 3:30 on a Wednesday afternoon. "I was on my way to work, like today... there was a small crowd." What a lame explanation. It sounded more like an excuse. Yet, it seemed as if he were listening, his gaze fixed at you over the rim of his coffee mug. "We don't get many buskers around here. There's more money to be made in the city."

Slowly, Ryan smiled. "And more musicians on every corner. I do alright on these parts. Keeps food in my belly." With one more sip of coffee, his mug was empty and he set it down gently on the bar. Shifting on the stool he'd been sitting on, he presented Y/N a few crumpled dollar bills, letting them rest on the counter between them. "Enough extra for a tip, even."

You touched the money just long enough to push it back toward him, shaking your head firmly. "Sorry, we don't take tips from patrons that get free coffee." You looked across the counter at him, smiling appreciatively. "You're very sweet, Ryan, but all I did was pour you a cup of coffee." Glancing down into his mug, you saw that it was empty. "Would you like another?" you asked, hooking the handle of the mug with two fingers.

He unfolded his long frame from the stool he'd been resting on. Partial portraits of George Washington's face stared blankly upward from where they were pictured on scattered bills. You turned your back on him for just a few seconds, long enough to return the used mug to the sink and, just in case, to pour the last of what was left in the coffee pot in a Styrofoam to-go cup, securing the plastic lid on tightly. When you turned to hand over the warm drink, Ryan had his pack on his back and guitar case in one hand. "Leaving so soon?" With a pause, you held up the disposable cup one more time. "One for the road. Don't forget your money."

Grinning, Ryan glanced down at his boots before he accepted the cup. "Thank you, Y/N. 'S rare to find someone who gives such kindness to a stranger." There had been countless times in your life where you'd been warned or patronized, said to be foolish and naive for the odd complimentary cup of coffee, among other niceties you'd offered. The loner in you just tended to empathize with others that seemed to keep the same type of solitary company. It was nice, now and then, to come across another that could offer something small, yet of importance.

"A very talented stranger," you added gently. Noticing his hands were full, you stepped from behind the counter and held the door open for him. The stark, frigid cold was startling. "I don't know how long you're staying in the area, but if you ever need a place to find some warmth..." You shrugged, no more than an inch of space between his body and yours as he passed through the threshold. He gave a lopsided grin. Adjusting the cap he wore over his dark, grown-out hair, he raised his hand. "See ya, Y/N."

Raising your hand you wave goodbye, you caught his eyes for a short beat of time. There was no shadow of a doubt in your mind that you'd see him again.

#fan fiction #my writing #ryan brenner x reader

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chocolatemillkk · 6 years

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Glad You Came (JS)

A/N: trying to beat my writer's block and writing the first thing that came to me :////

It was your first art show and you were buzzing with nerves and excitement. You felt like throwing up and shouting at the top of your lungs in the same breath-you supposed it was possible. But you resist the urge and greet everyone with a flash of a smile instead.

Most of the people who came out, you didn't recognise. A lot of other artists and friends milled about but you had told your friends to invite anybody they knew, which resulted in a mix of people. But it was nice in a way, you liked the thrill of walking past people talking about your artwork without a clue that you were the artist.

Your childhood in the country and the shift of adulthood in the city played a role in the traditional work and prints you'd made. It was whimsical and sometimes nostalgic, you'd poured your heart into it and it was like your baby finally being revealed to the public.

"Babe you've got like two sales so far." Kira whispers beside you.

"That's amazing!" You squeal but a small part of you curls into itself. You didn't want to let any of these pieces go, but you'd made art with the purpose to share it. And you also seriously needed the money.

"That cute bloke over there could take convincing but I bet he would buy," Kira points to a blonde-ish guy who was wearing a black jacket, black jeans, and black boots. You look down at your own outfit which mirrored it except your boots were heeled. What was the harm?

"You think?" You ask as Kira pushes you towards him.

"Chat him up, he looks interested."

The two of you freeze when he turns around and looks over his shoulder as if he'd heard you two. But he glances around the room before looking back at the painting.

"He looks interesting too," you giggle. His face intrigued you. And the fact that he was alone.

Kira gives you one last shove and you move towards him, standing beside him for a moment as you both look at the piece. This one was about the chaos of adulthood, multiple blocks of colours coming to the center in a black dot.

"What do you think?" The guy speaks up before you could. You look at his nametag-everyone wore one including you. Joe. "Do you like Y/N's work?"

He knew your name. Who was he?

"It's interesting," you say as you discreetly cover your nametag with your jacket. "What do you think?"

"There's a lot going on," Joe chuckles and you bite back an awkward smile. Here comes the brutal honesty. "A bit shocking to look at but when you look at the center it evens out-I like looking at it."

You're speechless. You didn't expect this very attractive stranger to give such an accurate analysis of your work.

"Do you know the artist?" You ask.

"Y/N? My friend's friends with her but I don't know her personally."

"Thought so," You say, no longer covering your smile or your nametag.

Joe raises an eyebrow before looking down at your shirt.

"You're the artist."

"Yup!" You say gleefully.

"You made me...."

"It's a little trick I like to do," You laugh. "Don't worry, a lot of people weren't as nice as you."

"I..." Joe is still speechless. He looks you up and down, opens his mouth and then closes it. And then finally: "You're younger than I thought."

You can't help but laugh at the unlikely comment, shaking the awkwardness off as he joins in.

"I'm Joe," he finally introduces himself. "Byron invited me to the opening."

"Oh! You're Byron's roomate!" You realise you'd heard about Joe. He was a Youtuber. "He's mentioned you-I haven't seen him though."

"He had a thing in Manchester and his train got backed up so he asked if I could go in his place." Joe explains.

"Oh he could have just texted me-you didn't have to come all the way down here." Warmth envelops your heart for Byron's commitment-and this new friend apparently.

"Ah it's nothing," Joe says humbly. "I've never gone to one of these-it's nice. I can see why Byron likes the art crowd."

"Don't let it fool you though," you say. "It can get really pretentious really quickly."

"Like the way I'm drinking this champagne even though I hate it?" Joe holds up his flute.

"Why are you drinking that!" You grab Joe's arm and try to ignore how strong they felt under your hands. He lets you lead him to the bar. "What do you drink? It's covered."

You return the champagne and hand him a beer, grabbing your own glass of pretentious champagne. Joe looks a lot more relaxed as he drinks his beer and the two of you find a dim corner to lean against the wall, staring out at all the people who'd come out.

"This is really impressive though," Joe says after a while. He places a light hand on your waist so you could hear each other better and you move towards him an inch. "You should be proud."

"Yeah," you blush. "I'm overwhelmed with all the support. I poured my heart into all this."

"I can tell," Joe's gaze remains trained on your face. "I look around and it's like I know you. The paintings from your childhood remind me of my own. You're really good at what you do."

"Wow," you press a hand to your beating heart. "That's really...nice to hear."

"Where'd you grow up?" Joe asks and you tell him. "That's not too far from me..."

The two of you bond over the simplicty of childhood and how boring it also got sometimes.

"...so I climbed a lot of trees," you laugh as the two of you share your childhood hobbies. "My mum was always yelling at me for getting my hair in knots."

"I've climbed my fair share," Joe replies. "It's perfect for tearing holes in all your clothes isn't it?"

"Especially on your way down!" You say and the two of you laugh as you show him a scar from when you fell off a tree.

As the laughter subsides, you sneak a glance at Joe while he's not looking and feel your heart hammering. He was handsome and kind-the type of boy your mum would approve of. But more than that, he had an infectious smile and he was so easy going you were surprised every person in the room hadn't already asked him out.

"I bet I could climb a tree faster than you-I was champion in my class." You say suddenly. Maybe you just wanted to see him again, or maybe this was your way of flirting. But Joe responds appropriately.

"Not a chance, I would beat you by a landslide."

"Oh it's on," you say seriously. "You are so on."

"Yeah?" Joe leans in. "What happens when I win."

"Oi, it's if you win not when you win."

Joe lets out a hearty laugh, laced with a challenge.

You cross your arms, "You don't think I could do it but once I change into my sneakers-I'll have bragging rights from now until infinity."

Joe wipes his eyes, "We'll see, love. I'm going to actually set this up."

"You can record it too! So no one's cheating!"

"Are you calling me a cheater," Joe grabs your hips again and this time the touch is familiar as you fall closer to him with a smile.

"Heyy," Kira suddenly walks up and Joe drops his hand, turning his attention to her. "Cozying up with the artist, I see."

"Oh uh," Joe laughs awkwardly. "We've just agreed on a tree climbing contest."

"A what?" Kira looks between you two and you know she wouldn't get it. As a city girl, your tree climbing escapades were a funny anecdote for her. "As long as you make sure her arms are still intact by the end of it."

"I've actually seen artists paint with their toes," you say which earns an odd look from both Kira and Joe. "Just saying."

"I'll leave you two," Kira glances at you and shifts her eyes to Joe. You shake your head subtly-he was a friend now-not a potential customer. She shrugs and leaves.

You turn to Joe. "Sorry, Kira can be a little hard to warm to."

"That's alright," Joe shrugs. "I'm used to meeting all sorts."

"That's right-you do Youtube right? How do you like that?"

"It's great. Really rewarding-I wouldn't change it for anything."

"So I should check your work out now that you've seen mine," you tease.

"Oh it's nothing compared to this."

"Maybe I can learn something about you?"

"Maybe," Joe says with a wry smile. "I can tell you anything you want to know about me now though. Including how good I am at climbing trees."

"I already know that particular bit-you're good but not as good as me," you inch closer. "What I want to know is if you have a girlfriend?"

"No," he says. "It's...it's complicated."

"Oh," you step back, red flags shooting up. "Oh-okay I-"

Joe laughs and you shift uncomfortably but he yanks your hand towards him. You stumble closer to him and he curls his hand around the back of your waist.

"I'm kidding-I'm very very single. No commitments. No complications. And yourself?"

"Oh, you had me...jeez." You chuckle. "Same though. I'm uh-I'm very single."

"Hm," Joe nods slowly, his eyes memorizing your face. "Anything else you want to know?"

"Um," you bite you lip, enjoying the way Joe seems to linger on your features. His icy eyes were art in itself and his gaze was suggestive of another kind of art. "That's all I can think of right now."

"That's it?" Joe smiles.

"Well," you finally rest both arms on Joe's shoulders and he shifts to wrap both arms around your waist. "What were you doing after the show? Say, around 10?"

"Hm," Joe smiles lazily, moving you closer to him. Your heart hammered away yet you couldn't move away, you knew what was coming. As his blue eyes and slight stubble came closer to you, you glance at his lips and back up at him, knowing he was going to kiss you. He tilts down and you let him press his lips to yours; they're gentle, his lips soft on yours and your hand curls around the back of his neck in response as you push yourself closer to him. You didn't really want him to be a gentleman right now.

"We'll have the artist present her statement on this collection...." the loud voice booms around you two and Joe pulls away. Your hand goes to your lips and you stare at him, startled, as you remember that despite the dim area you were in, you two were still in public. "....Y/N? Can we get a short final speech?"

Shit. "Um," you widen your eyes and Joe laughs, lipstick smudged slightly on his lower lip.

"You'll be fine," his eyes crinkle with a smile. "Go."

You swipe at his bottom lip and squeeze his hand before stepping out in view of the gallery's collector.

"There she is!" He holds out the mic and you rush to grab it. Your eyes search for your friends as you thank everyone for coming after explaining your statement.

"Here's to more art and here's to more friends," you hold out your empty champagne glass which you were surprised to be still clutching. You find Joe as you say your last bit and he's leaning on the far wall with his arms crossed. Even though his body language showed no interest, he looks at you with a shining happiness.

"So where are we headed after this?" Kira asks after you hand back the mic.

"Do you mind..." you glance at where you saw Joe last. "I might head out with the guy I met."

"The one I pushed you to?" Kira squeals.

"Yeah sure," you roll your eyes. "Take credit."

"Obviously," Kira says and the two of you laugh. "Have fun-you've earned it babe."

She kisses you on the cheek and heads to another friend as you look for Joe. Many people side track you including the gallery owner who tell you you made five sales in total. You bounce away, feeling like you're on cloud nine.

Looking for Joe, you eventually find him near the entrance, on his phone.

"Ready?" Joe asks you and you grin, too excited for words. "I was thinking about a bottle of wine I have at home-would you be interested?"

"Sounds perfect," you hurry out with him and let him hold your hand. First art showing down and many more to go-you hoped.

With that thought you glance at Joe who's getting the two of you an Uber. Maybe he could be there for the many more to come...right after you beat his ass in tree climbing.

"What are you smiling at?" Joe asks you as he catches you looking.

"Nothing," you shake your head, your smile turning into a grin. "Just really glad you came."

#youtube imagines #joe sugg #joe sugg imagine #joe sugg imagines #fic #thatcherjoe imagines #thatcherjoe #thatcherjoe imagine #buttercream imagines #buttercreams #byron langley #jack maynard #conor maynard #i know its maybe unecessarily detailed but thats the only way i can write rn #super upset that I FEEL CREATIVELY BLOCKED #ugH

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tanyaodebra · 5 years

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You 2.2: “Just the Tip” – Of the Iceberg

“Just the Tip” opens on a fish market, because so many things about both Joe and Love are very fucking fishy. Catfish, anyone? (The penis-y title paired with a vaginal allusion has not gone unnoticed, btw.) Our resident cool girl saunters from table to table loudly demonstrating her seafood savvy, so I’m holding strong to the idea that she might be baiting our antihero to serve him on a platter. Unable to stay in reality for two consecutive minutes, Joe takes a stroll down memory lane to the moment he believes his Love story began – one whole week ago with his arrival at LAX. There he spots a celeb to whom he immediately and favorably compares himself by employing the ultimate backdoor brag, praising himself for being so humble. Must be tough to be perfect.

The next stop on Joe’s journey to Love brings us to the inception of his new identity, where the real Will Bettelheim shows just how much he deserves everything that’s coming to him by daring to bitch about GMOs and the state of animal farming in Joe’s presence. Joe has hired Will to scrub his identity, but that’s not good enough for our Joe. As usual, he wants what he can’t, or shouldn’t, have; in this case, it’s Will’s identity. In a moment of cosmic irony, Will blurts out the whole conceit for You, that no one ever suspects white guys. He quickly feels the consequences of his own miscalculation as Joe cracks his skull with a cement brick. The timeline jumps ahead close to where we left off at the end of the last episode, when Joe is trying to figure out who Jasper is and why he came looking for Will. Shocker, the guy Joe hired off Craigslist and who had to scrub his own identity is into some shady shit. Looks like Will owes Dark Web Jasper three large for services never rendered. This is no sweat for a professional book counterfeiter like Joe, especially since LA is full of dumb-dumbs who will buy anything. Something about this feels a little too easy.

Back to the fishmonger’s ball where Love, who is serving major Liv Tyler in Empire Records vibes, demonstrates that she has absolutely zero healthy boundaries by kissing Joe for the first time completely out of the blue. A sucker for “romance,” Joe takes his own slapshot in this game of tonsil hockey and gets nothing but net with the catch of the day. Uh-oh, look out. Is that… Beck lurking in the shadows? Ex-girlfriends, amirite? They just don’t know when to stay dead and buried. Lucky for Joe, she’s vanished as swiftly as she appeared. In the meantime, Joe the daydreamer has missed Love’s proposition: lunch with her friends. If memory serves, Joe wasn’t too fond of his old girlfriend’s pals. In fact, he even murdered one (RIP Peach Salinger). That Love is pressing Joe to meet her buddies so soon might be another hint that she is fucking with him. Or maybe she’s a big old roll of cling-wrap attempting to cover the world’s deepest black hole, and now he’s going for a walk on the stalk-ee side of the street. Either way, it’s pretty karmic.

Out at the dumpster behind Anavrin, an affable fellow calls out to Joe, or rather, to Will. Jasper (Steven W. Bailey) isn’t nearly as scary as we may have imagined, and it seems Joe will be able to pay up and be done with the whole messy business – that is, until Joe discovers Will owes fifty grand, not three. And here’s where the joke in the title of the episode pays off. Jasper cuts off the tip of Joe’s pinky finger, throws it on ice and keeps it as collateral for the balance of the debt, all with a smile on his face. Looks like Joe should have listened to his mentor, Ellie, when she called the guy a creep. When Joe circles back to the plexiglass prison where he’s storing the real Will, he finds a sniveling mess in dire need of his meds. Even though Will can barely function, he’s somehow able to recall a fifty thousand-dollar IOU Joe can claim. In order to hunt those ducats, Joe must cancel his lunch date with Love and her squad. Upon receiving the news, Love, who knows no bounds, returns a text with a fucking phone call. Like, I don’t believe in The Rules, but come on. Show a modicum of chill. Of course, Lonely Boy doesn’t have any boundaries either, so he finds this adorable. He comes up with an alibi blaming Forty, which Love does not seem to buy, and decides to go to the lunch anyway in the capacity of a cap-wearing creep peeping from behind a plant. To Joe’s surprise, the group decides they like the sound of him, and he reciprocates with his own stamp of approval. It seems Beck’s ghost does not approve of Joe’s happiness, because here she is again, cockblocking from the other side.

Remember Joe has a severed finger? He finally does, too. Joe must endure a noontime LA party to find Will’s debtor, Rufus, endearingly named in a nod to Penn Badgley’s Gossip Girl father. Guests at the party just will not believe that Joe is not John Mayer, and they honestly might be right. Dude looks EXACTLY like John Mayer, a true fact that I hadn’t noticed before. As he traipses around the party, he spots the celeb from the airport – a comedian named Hendy (Chris D’Elia). Guess who else is at this party? Delilah the landlady. Small world made smaller by the fact that she knows Rufus, and also Hendy. When he notice’s Joe’s hand, Hendy recommends the same microsurgeon as Jake, which shores up Joe’s good opinion of Hendy earlier earned in a brief Google search. Delilah vehemently disagrees, storming out of the party. We learn later that Hendy raped her when she was seventeen. Delilah points to this experience as the reason she sees right through Joe’s bullshit – she knows he’s bad news and she warns him to stay away from her and Ellie. Back at the party, Joe finds Rufus who hands over a huge bag, not of money but of pills – Will’s meds.

Joe doubles back to his (or Will’s) place to tend to his wound, and of course Love turns up uninvited, and she is displeased. You guys, I fucking love soap operas. Guess who Forty is to her? Her fucking TWIN BROTHER! I live for this shit. According to common knowledge, twins share everything, so now Love knows Joe lied about his reason for bailing on her friends. While Joe spins some wild yarn in his head about doing all this crazy shit so they can be together, she whips out the dead husband card in order to emotionally strongarm Joe into being her boyfriend. And since this is exactly the type of shit Joe lives for, everybody’s favorite ghost steals the scene again, which makes Joe flip his lid. It’s like, can’t a guy do a few little murders and then live in blissful peace? Love draws the line at yelling (boy is she in for a surprise if she gets to see his true colors) and hightails it out of there. Perfect, because Joe really needs to see to that finger.

Joe meets Jasper at the storage unit. Seeing that he’s never going to raise his dough from the whimpering puddle otherwise known as Will, Jasper lunges at Joe. But Joe is a seasoned killer and he takes Jasper out lickety-split, butchering him Sweeney Todd-style and ditching trash bags filled with his ground-up body in a dumpster. Right alongside this scene, Love hacks away at a rack of lamb with a large butcher knife. As she prepares the rest of her dinner, she cracks a couple of eggs with one hand. Vivisected balls much? Joe shows up at Love’s door – even that psychopath knows to text first – and he bravely drops the knowledge he learned from Beck’s ghost; it’s not that he’s afraid of getting hurt, it’s that he’s afraid of hurting her. Love does all the heavy lifting for him and warps this loud siren into whatever she wants to hear, which is that they need to be in a relationship. Let me remind you once again that it has only been ONE WEEK. Love pulls the classic high school move of claiming friendship when her motives of partnering are so, so transparent. Both are playing this game, though, so Joe is delighted by her willingness to wait for him. Aw! Gross!

And just like that, old Joe is right back in his comfort zone – panty-snatchin’ and trophy-hidin’. This is a pretty high bar to set for episode two; Joe’s only been in LA for one week and he’s already got a body count. Can’t wait for episode three! See You then!

#you netflix recap season2 episode2

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comfsy · 6 years

Text

A Winter CSF Leak Update

I’ve received many very similar emails and DMs during the last few days.

“Jodi…?” the messages start out. “I don’t want to bother you but it has been a long time since you posted, and I’m really starting to worry.”

“Jodi: blink twice if you’re ok?”

“Jodi, here is a llama walking into an optometrist’s office in France. I thought of you! Also, ARE YOU OK?”

In a world of easy access to people’s inboxes, readers have only been a pleasure, a virtual cloud of warmth and never a burden. And when so many of you ping at once, I know I am due for an update. In this slow bedrest state, life feels like a woozy Groundhog Day. I love the filaments that connect me to so many of you, reminding me not to lose track of time entirely. I am so humbled by your care.

***

When I was a kid, my mother said my first word was a word. Instead of continuing along those lines, apparently the next thing I started said was a sentence, “see car go by.”

“And then,” my family jokes, “she never stopped talking!”

Being at a loss for words is not a problem I normally have. But yes, I have been very lax at updating because it’s been hard to find words for what I’m feeling.

A Leaky Anniversary

January 26 was the one year anniversary of the patch that sealed me last year. I had a really rough and heart-wrenching time reckoning with where I am on this anniversary. Instead of scaffolding off the slow and arduous recovery that followed the anaphylaxis and procedure, I am in bed.

Again.

For many months.

If you’re just tuning in, the CSF leak that sealed up and was healing reopened because I sat on the ground. Gingerly. Not even enthusiastically. I went from 4-5km walks a day, to no walking in record time.

At first, I was in extreme denial that something so small, so inhibited could blow out the scar tissue that had months to form. But one by one, each symptom I had in 2017 came back. I keep detailed daily logs of every symptom, supplement or mediation, and food. I couldn’t deny what I was experiencing.

Then, the grief. The anger. The deep sadness, the kind that suffocates all hope.

We learn about the “stages of grief” in popular culture, but what happens when they just cycle over and over? When you think you’ve come out the other side and can breathe again, when you tilt your face up at a brighter-than-you-remembered sun, only to find that you’re back in the dark?

***

My body, when I releaked, was in far better shape than the initial leak in 2017. Labs last summer showed improvements and lower inflammatory markers. I tried to stay positive. My friends and family came to visit. My inbox overflowed with llama photos.

As fall turned to winter, I saw some wonderful improvements. I stopped having the “brain sag” of my brain smushing into my spine due to low pressure. I moved into “high pressure” again, which is usually a symptom of the leak starting to seal over — the extra CSF produced while leaking backs up against the hole now tentatively closed. I started on the meds to lower intracranial pressure to prevent the fragile seal from bursting due to pressure. I felt cautiously optimistic.

And then a few weeks later in mid-December, I had an awful nightmare in my sleep. I remember it perfectly. And I also remember what woke me up: the excruciating pain in my back.

After an epidural blood patch to seal a CSF leak, the discharge instructions note that there’s to be no bending, lifting, or twisting for many weeks, but also that coughing or sneezing can blow out the patch due to intrathecal pressure. Many fellow leakers have blown out their patches — a clot or glue covering the leak temporarily while your own body can heal with scar tissue underneath — from constipation (pushing), sneezing, coughing, laughing.

Suspend your humanness while you can, the unsaid instructions whisper. Don’t do anything that can compromise this seal.

In my case, this nightmare I had blew out the seal and I was back to square one.

The Roller-Coaster of Ups and Downs

It is difficult for me to express the crazy-making nature of this condition.

In many cases, there is no imaging available that is sensitive enough to show a leak. Misdiagnoses are common. Imaging such as MRIs or more invasive testing like a CT-myelography turn up normal in an alarming percentage of cases. And normal imaging, the leak experts have learned, does not exclude a leak.

So the best way to know if you are leaking is via your symptoms or your story. In my case: I had none of these symptoms prior to a lumbar puncture, and have not been functional since. But the difficulty of external corroboration and testing only exacerbates anxiety about what may or may not be happening in your body. It is a very tough, very exhausting dance to undertake. I have struggled the most with this balance of attempting to stay in touch with my body while also uncurling my clenched hands from the eventual outcome. Science tells us that focusing ad nauseum on our pain can magnify it in our minds, hence the usefulness of mindfulness and other meditation.

When your condition requires a focus on pain, and you also know you need to stay equanimous to heal effectively? That is a total mindfuck.

***

In mid-December, a close family member took a turn for the very worse. The funeral was around Christmas. I was too unwell to attend. Combined with the Re-Re-leak, I spiralled pretty solidly into a very bleak place.

If I’ve learned anything in this madness, it’s that staying in the black hole of despair is not how you heal. With the crutches of visits and calls from close friends, someone to talk with who specializes in grief, and the tools I’ve drawn on at the worst of times, I was able to wrench myself to a better place.

But still, I am not sealed and healed.

***

I put off Duke when I re-leaked because of what happened during the last round of patching. There is a lesson about anxiety in that procedure too: in my most creative of nightmares, I never imagined anaphylaxis as part of what could go wrong.

But it did, and while they will not use fibrin glue again (suspecting that was the cause for anaphylaxis), I’ve written about how my body seems to be stuck in that very reactive, anaphylax-y place. My mast cells degranulated all over the place and LOVED it. They seem to enjoy doing so again and again since, not only to foods but also smells – and even hot showers.

Given how pear-shaped things went last time, I wanted to give my body a long chance to seal before committing to another procedure. When I did seemingly seal up in November, I was so thrilled. It didn’t (and doesn’t) matter to me if it takes a long time, though my parents have the patience of saints. If slow and steady was the way, I was ok with that as long as I sealed up.

I will be honest: my turbulent December and January have tested the limits of my capacity for grace and patience and hope. I have been on bedrest for quite a few months. While I’m not bored, the pain levels are pretty unconscionable and keeping my spirit up has been a mighty challenge.

From my own calculus: if I do need to go back to Duke, I want to know I gave my body a full shot.

That way, if – IF – things go awry again during a procedure, I won’t be able to look back and say, “should have given it a bit more time.”

***

So where are we now? It’s February, and long term readers know this means my favourite holiday in the world: Vietnamese lunar new year or Tet. An amazing reader named Wendy just sent me a pic of lamp in my name from her family’s temple in Malaysia, a New Year wish of health and prosperity. Lunar new year was always a time for reflection and cleaning and cleansing during my time in Asia. I’ve kept that spirit during my return to Mexico and Canada with small celebrations to welcome the next calendar.

New Year starts in a few days, and with it I hope a better climate for healing.

I have seen such progress since the re-leak, progress I didn’t see when first in bed in 2017. I keep flipping into high pressure as it starts to seal, then unsealing. It may be that I need intervention after all, but I still have hope that the JodiDura-that-could comes through this winter. I’m eating a strict and healthy diet, meditating, visualizing, consistently working to bring my mind into a better space.

If I can’t seal during the winter, it certainly won’t be because I didn’t try.

Learning to be the Tortoise

There once was a speedy hare who bragged about how fast he could run. Tired of hearing him boast, Slow and Steady, the tortoise, challenged him to a race. All the animals in the forest gathered to watch. Hare ran down the road for a while and then and paused to rest. He looked back at Slow and Steady and cried out, “How do you expect to win this race when you are walking along at your slow, slow pace?” Hare stretched himself out alongside the road and fell asleep, thinking, “There is plenty of time to relax.” Slow and Steady walked and walked. He never, ever stopped until he came to the finish line. The animals who were watching cheered so loudly for Tortoise, they woke up Hare. Hare stretched and yawned and began to run again, but it was too late. Tortoise was over the line. After that, Hare always reminded himself, “Don’t brag about your lightning pace, for Slow and Steady won the race!”

The moral lesson of the Aesop’s “Tortoise and the Hare” fable is that sometimes you can be more successful by doing things slowly and steadily than by rash action. The race (of life) isn’t necessarily won by the fastest or strongest animal, but by those who persist in the face of obstacles – including the obstacle of time.

I undertook my life in the stubborn spirit of the hare.

I went to law school straight from grade 13 (CEGEP, in Quebec) because someone bet me I couldn’t get in. I took a job in NYC because on my first day of law school, someone said, “you don’t deserve to be here. Go back to high school where you belong. And don’t bother getting a job in New York City – you’ll never succeed.” When I quit my law job, it wasn’t for a two month trip, it was for an open jaw adventure to Siberia that unfurled into a glorious and food-filled new career.

My identity for years was the lawyer who quit her job to eat soup. As I’ve laid in bed on and off since 2017, I’ve watched the travel industry and my fellow writers move on with their lives. Mine feels very stuck. I am very unused to not being able to solve problems by DOING, and it is a monumental shift in my mindset. Above and beyond the leak, my health will require a different way of approaching work.

Apparently it’s time to be the tortoise.

Tortoise pic from one of the first adventures in my round-the-world trip: the Galapagos Islands in Ecuador

I’m still feeling around the edges of what that means for me. Sealing and healing will require me to change a lot about how I approach work and achievement, because excessive doing is a surefire way to undo my progress. There’s a lot here I hope to write about in the future, about learning to get under your mind and into your heart.

About your hope being derived from the gratitude in your present, not just your imagined better future.

About listening to your body before it’s too late.

About not necessarily taking every bet that comes your way as a life challenge.

For now, though, I don’t know what I will redefine life “as.” I trust that it will unfold in its own way. While mourning the life I had, I also feel curious about what comes next.

But first: this leak in my spine needs to be firmly sealed for me to get walking again.

***

Thank you all as always for the caring notes, the questions, and the overwhelming support and love. I am extraordinarily lucky to have such a robust army of cheerleaders around the world.

Many of you have dedicated your meditation practices to my health, and for that I am grateful. I do plan to restart the group meditations next week, on Sunday February 10th. If you are interested in joining, the first 7 weeks are here, and you can enjoy any of the meditations as the tracks are all on that post.

I have been meditating alone here, but with all that unfolded I couldn’t manage the group ones during the holidays. I appreciate how many emails I’ve received asking when they’ll restart, and I am so glad many of you find them helpful and a source of light.

I haven’t written publicly in a long time, but typing this post out with my thumbs felt very good. I missed it. And though I would still be writing if no one was reading, I’m glad to go through this very tough journey with a community like you to help make things better along the way.

Jodi

The post A Winter CSF Leak Update appeared first on Legal Nomads.

A Winter CSF Leak Update published first on https://takebreaktravel.tumblr.com/

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outsidespaceblog · 6 years

Text

A Winter CSF Leak Update

I’ve received many very similar emails and DMs during the last few days.

“Jodi…?” the messages start out. “I don’t want to bother you but it has been a long time since you posted, and I’m really starting to worry.”

“Jodi: blink twice if you’re ok?”

“Jodi, here is a llama walking into an optometrist’s office in France. I thought of you! Also, ARE YOU OK?”

***

When I was a kid, my mother said my first word was a word. Instead of continuing along those lines, apparently the next thing I started said was a sentence, “see car go by.”

“And then,” my family jokes, “she never stopped talking!”

Being at a loss for words is not a problem I normally have. But yes, I have been very lax at updating because it’s been hard to find words for what I’m feeling.

A Leaky Anniversary

Again.

For many months.

Then, the grief. The anger. The deep sadness, the kind that suffocates all hope.

***

And then a few weeks later in mid-December, I had an awful nightmare in my sleep. I remember it perfectly. And I also remember what woke me up: the excruciating pain in my back.

Suspend your humanness while you can, the unsaid instructions whisper. Don’t do anything that can compromise this seal.

In my case, this nightmare I had blew out the seal and I was back to square one.

The Roller-Coaster of Ups and Downs

It is difficult for me to express the crazy-making nature of this condition.

When your condition requires a focus on pain, and you also know you need to stay equanimous to heal effectively? That is a total mindfuck.

***

But still, I am not sealed and healed.

***

From my own calculus: if I do need to go back to Duke, I want to know I gave my body a full shot.

That way, if – IF – things go awry again during a procedure, I won’t be able to look back and say, “should have given it a bit more time.”

***

New Year starts in a few days, and with it I hope a better climate for healing.

If I can’t seal during the winter, it certainly won’t be because I didn’t try.

Learning to be the Tortoise

I undertook my life in the stubborn spirit of the hare.

Apparently it’s time to be the tortoise.

Tortoise pic from one of the first adventures in my round-the-world trip: the Galapagos Islands in Ecuador

About your hope being derived from the gratitude in your present, not just your imagined better future.

About listening to your body before it’s too late.

About not necessarily taking every bet that comes your way as a life challenge.

For now, though, I don’t know what I will redefine life “as.” I trust that it will unfold in its own way. While mourning the life I had, I also feel curious about what comes next.

But first: this leak in my spine needs to be firmly sealed for me to get walking again.

***

Thank you all as always for the caring notes, the questions, and the overwhelming support and love. I am extraordinarily lucky to have such a robust army of cheerleaders around the world.

Jodi

The post A Winter CSF Leak Update appeared first on Legal Nomads.

A Winter CSF Leak Update published first on https://whartonstravel.tumblr.com/

0 notes

tripile · 6 years

Text

A Winter CSF Leak Update

I’ve received many very similar emails and DMs during the last few days.

“Jodi…?” the messages start out. “I don’t want to bother you but it has been a long time since you posted, and I’m really starting to worry.”

“Jodi: blink twice if you’re ok?”

“Jodi, here is a llama walking into an optometrist’s office in France. I thought of you! Also, ARE YOU OK?”

***

When I was a kid, my mother said my first word was a word. Instead of continuing along those lines, apparently the next thing I started said was a sentence, “see car go by.”

“And then,” my family jokes, “she never stopped talking!”

Being at a loss for words is not a problem I normally have. But yes, I have been very lax at updating because it’s been hard to find words for what I’m feeling.

A Leaky Anniversary

Again.

For many months.

Then, the grief. The anger. The deep sadness, the kind that suffocates all hope.

***

And then a few weeks later in mid-December, I had an awful nightmare in my sleep. I remember it perfectly. And I also remember what woke me up: the excruciating pain in my back.

Suspend your humanness while you can, the unsaid instructions whisper. Don’t do anything that can compromise this seal.

In my case, this nightmare I had blew out the seal and I was back to square one.

The Roller-Coaster of Ups and Downs

It is difficult for me to express the crazy-making nature of this condition.

No imaging sensitive enough to show a leak in many cases, including where it is located in the spine. Many people are chronically misdiagnosed because their imaging is normal. Normal imaging, the leak experts have learned, does not exclude a leak.

So the best way to know if you are leaking is via your symptoms, which only exacerbates your anxiety about what may or may not be happening in your body. It is a very tough, very exhausting dance to undertake. I have struggled the most with this balance of attempting to stay in touch with my body while also uncurling my clenched hands from the eventual outcome. Science tells us that focusing ad nauseum on our pain can magnify it in our minds, hence the usefulness of mindfulness and other meditation.

When your condition requires a focus on pain, and you also know you need to stay equanimous to heal effectively? That is a total mindfuck.

***

But still, I am not sealed and healed.

***

From my own calculus: if I do need to go back to Duke, I want to know I gave my body a full shot.

That way, if – IF – things go awry again during a procedure, I won’t be able to look back and say, “should have given it a bit more time.”

***

So where are we now? It’s February, and almost at my favourite holiday in the world: Vietnamese lunar new year or Tet. An amazing reader named Wendy just sent me a pic of lamp in my name from her family’s temple in Malaysia, a New Year wish of health and prosperity. Lunar new year was a time for reflection and cleaning and cleansing for my years in Asia, and I’ve kept that spirit during my return to Mexico and Canada. New Year starts in a few days, and with it I hope a better climate for healing.

If I can’t seal during the winter, it certainly won’t be because I didn’t try.

Learning to be the Tortoise

I undertook my life in the stubborn spirit of the hare.

Apparently it’s time to be the tortoise.

Tortoise pic from one of the first adventures in my round-the-world trip: the Galapagos Islands in Ecuador

About listening to your body before it’s too late.

About not necessarily taking every bet that comes your way as a life challenge.

For now, though, I don’t know what I will redefine life “as.” I trust that it will unfold in its own way. While mourning the life I had, I also feel curious about what comes next.

But first: this leak in my spine needs to be firmly sealed for me to get walking again.

***

Thank you all as always for the caring notes, the questions, and the overwhelming support and love. I am extraordinarily lucky to have such a robust army of cheerleaders around the world.

Jodi

The post A Winter CSF Leak Update appeared first on Legal Nomads.

A Winter CSF Leak Update published first on https://oceandreamblog.tumblr.com/

0 notes