#honestly my red flag is that I’m in love with so many white men
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
slut4thebroken · 2 years ago
Text
Guys help I want to change my username cause I made it like back in 2020 when I was in my 1D phase 💀 and I haven’t been in that for like two years. Should I just change it to fookinslut4jason or something💀💀💀💀 See it’s hard cause there are too many fictional, traumatized, sarcastic, with a touch of the tism, white men that I’m in love with. How am I supposed to choose between all my husbands?? That’s like impossible
15 notes · View notes
the-bee-graveyard · 1 year ago
Note
It kinda pisses me off how everyone's talking about how this is "the golden age of queer reprsentation" or whatever, and everyone talks about how many queer shows, (and movies if you count Red white and royal blue) are popular right now. But it's only really mlm representation or mlm centric content. Like Heartstopper, Interview with a vampire, Our flag means death, Good Omens, and Young Royals are all mlm centric shows, and sapphic shows usually either get canceled or they never reach the kind of popularity. I think the only one I can think of is Arcane and I think that's because it's got so many other moving parts that are so fantastic snd interesting that even the straights love it. And Cait and Vi's relationship isn't really overt yet, so to speak.
And the thing is we all know why this is happening. We all know what this is about. Or at least I thought we did. But when you bring this up you often get people being like, "oh stop causing conflict between wlw and mlm!" Or "stop trying to pit queer people against each other!" Like.... no I'm not doing that, I'm pointing out that misogyny and lesbophobia exist.
Honestly I am literally begging queer men to care about sapphics for once. Like please acknowledge that misogyny exists and we are affected by it. Please acknowledge that the way we are percieved and treated is different from you because we experience the intersection of homophobia and misogyny.
Sorry for ranting. I'm just so tired.
Never apologize for ranting!
Well it’s undeniable that queer representation has gotten better over the years, we are nowhere near in the golden age of queer representation! Where are the lesbians, the trans/non-binary characters, the poly characters?
And yes we have shows like Yellowjackets and Arcane who have main character lesbian rep and haven’t been canceled and are quite popular, they still haven’t reached the levels of popularity of mlm shows.
I’m very happy for my mlm friends for finally getting the representation they deserve! I am only hoping that wlw can see that kind of representation for themselves.
16 notes · View notes
bedofthistles · 1 year ago
Text
The Little White Horse: Theme
Final thoughts, and the themes I found in the book and the movie
TL;DR
The Secret of Moonacre was an absolutely beautiful, whimsical film that taught its viewers the lesson of love and forgiveness, and the value of putting your pride aside for the betterment of the world around you. The Little White Horse is a book hellbent on teaching young girls that curiosity is wrong, and not to ask too many questions. Humbling yourself means lowering yourself to the point where you sacrifice your well-being and future, and that love truly is blind to all those red flags. 
Now, clearly my opinion of The Little White Horse is not a good one, but I honestly can’t think of a good lesson that came out of this book. Whatever good Goudge was trying to do, is undermined by all the bad wrapped around those morals.
Sexism, racism, male egotism, and here I really want to compare the movie and the book.
I won’t take too long describing the movie, since I’m sure we’ve all seen it. But the movie begins with a young girl who has just lost her father, and she has already lost her mother. She is a city girl, born and raised in London, she is proper, educated, a tad egotistical, curious, and a prideful, stubborn girl. 
On her journey, learning about and falling in love with Moonacre Valley, she learns to put these things aside in order to put Moonacre first. Maria learns to appreciate the Countryside and its beauty, her love for the people around her, not just her Uncle, but the servants of the household who are technically ‘under’ her. She willingly gets dirty, thinks about the good of all over herself, and at the very end of the film, she sacrifices herself to save the entire Valley. By jumping from the edge of the cliff, Maria completes her journey of self discovery, she shows that her love for those around her is stronger than her own need to live. 
And, everyone else subsequently puts aside their own pride as concern and fear override stubbornness and they all run to the cliff, too late of course, but they forget themselves for a moment, and choose Maria. When Maria is returned by the Sea Unicorn, the Valley is saved, the natural order of things is restored, and peace can finally come to the two families. 
In this moment, we the audience have learned the value of love, forgiveness, and sacrifice, of what it means to value something above yourself. 
In other words, this silly little film that has a critic’s score of 23% and an audience score of 46%, does what Elizabeth Goudge could not do. 
Giving a story that has good morals. 
Despite her attempts, The Little White Horse is bogged down in dated world views. Her definition of love is bowing your head to men, who are abusive and pedophiles, and accepting it. She expects women not to humble themselves, but crawl on the floor in order for there to be peace. She does not teach lessons on equality, on the pursuit of knowledge, or of true humbleness. I hate to repeat myself, but there is hardly any good that comes out of this book, and what little good there is is shrouded by an awful message to young girls specifically, and young boys. An acceptance of abuse, that people can be wholly evil and wicked, that peace is unattainable through communication and understanding, but must be brought on through sacrifice. 
The truth of the matter is that love is sacrifice. Love is putting others above yourself, giving and providing, of leading all for the sake of someone else, however love should not be misconstrued so horribly that the only lesson that can be taken away is that you must cut off pieces of yourself to be amendable. While wildly praised, I cannot help but feel as if this book is viewed through rose colored lenses, that the descriptions of delicious food has somehow blocked out our ability to see abuse, grooming, racism, and sexism.
The Secret of Moonacre may not be the most popular movie, but the creative liberties they took were absolutely necessary in order to create a story actually worth showing your children. And hopefully, The Little White Horse, can either fade into obscurity, or be used as an example.
Prev | First
8 notes · View notes
chickawah23 · 3 years ago
Note
American Independence is the dress code of the 2021 Met Gala, you say Vogue? My impossible dream scenario for the 2021 Met Gala is Karls showing up to is sans "hubby" while wearing a star-spangled suit and a fake beard with a paper cut-out of Mr. Solid Dude's face on it that she rips off and burns on the red carpet with an American flag Zippo lighter lol
Lolol that is quite the imagery. I like your imagination. Lol Idek if I’m ready for the controversy that will be this red carpet.
But Honestly I’d love to see every woman dressed in masculine attire to make the statement that the only people who have retained independence throughout American history to this day is the white cis man.
Alternatives looks I’d welcome:
a dress made with the newsprint headlines of all the people who were subjugated to police violence across the country over the last two years that made national news
A guy wearing a “law”suit but only covered in cases brought against wealthy men who got away with sexual abuse
An American flag dress in the front with a split design down the back that looks like a zipper revealing a large gaslight street lamp
I’d also love to see a pull away dress or a reversible suit jack that is American flag themed but on the other side or after it opens you see an aqua blue dress or jacket with a counter that shows how many days it’s been since Flint, Michigan has had clean water
I also expect to see some true red white and blue Stars and Stripes. 🇺🇸
I will say it will be interesting to see how celebs from other countries interpret this assignment. This feels like the perfect way to piss off conservatives thus generating so much buzz that the gala gets all the trending spots and all the memes.
But also let me share my dream Kaylor scenario: Taylor dresses up as Nicolas Cage and Karlie wears a Declaration of Independence dress lolol
Tumblr media
Don’t hate me I say this in jest lol
6 notes · View notes
myrsparv · 4 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
I got this message, and I was originally going to ignore it, but I cannot reply to the person, nor can I see the content on their blog, so I assume they blocked me? Which I think is strange, since they asked me a question and now I cannot give them a direct answer. Well, anyway, I decided to get into it.
If you simply googled searched, you would get a very straightforward answer to what ”tradfem” is. As defined by urban dictionary, a tradfem is, 
”a portmanteau of "traditional feminism" in reference to belief that adherence traditional feminine gender roles are better or more correct, especially those held by conservative Christian Americans, especially WASPs. Often in opposition of more modern women's rights and feminist movements, non-traditional gender roles (I.E. women wearing pants, having jobs. Clair thinks a woman's place is in the home. She runs a tradfem blog and posts pictures of women in dresses with long hair and discusses child rearing and cooking.”
Enjoying the aesthetic of traditional femininity (such as long hair, dresses, aprons, pink etc) is not inherently harmful. It is however a red flag for many, especially LGBTQ+ folks, people of color, and non-christians, and I’m guessing indigenous folks as well. There are many reasons why people are put off by this aesthetic, and I’ll get into it, but it is a long discussion and I am not linguistically armed for it, as english isn’t my first language. But I will do my best to explain.
Traditional femininity romanticises traditionally feminine clothes, practices and relationships, and shares many visual ideas as well as patterns of how things were ”back in the day,” when women were stay-at-home-wives who cooked and took care of kids. This idea is very US-centric, very American Dream-esque, but it also borrows elements from Europe from a time where colonisation and slavery  and other more or less questionable and harmful things were at the forefront. There is also a LOT of overlap with fascist and alt-right nationalist ideas within the tradfem community, which should be enough for folks to feel uncomfortable and want to distance themselves from such a community and voice their distaste for it and wish to not be associated with them.
And let’s talk about this ”traditional feminism”. It is not inclusive or productive at all, and only benefits those who are higher up in power, primarily white, cishet women (and hardly them honestly,) in a western society. I suppose it is similar to earlier waves of feminism, which I might add only included the white cishet women, and excluded ex black people. What is it achieving, and for who? Who are included in this idea of feminism? Is it feminism at all, if the pursuit doesn’t have an end goal where equality/equity is achieved?
These blogs who are dedicated to traditional femininity and traditional feminism often say that there is nothing harmful about what they’re doing, that they’re simply enjoying an aesthetic! But here is the thing.
There is nothing wrong with liking to bake pies and share pictures of lambs, and dream of having a humble home with a partner to love and where the only worry you have is if you burnt your bread or not. You may even currently be a stay-at-home-wife, and there’s honestly nothing wrong with that. That is your choice, and if that makes you feel good and empowered, good for you.
However, this choice in your way of life is not an act of feminism.
On the contrary, it is anti-feminism to limit the freedom of others and infringe on their ability to make choices for themselves, such as careers, how to dress, how sexually active they want to be and if they want abortions or not, wether or not trans people should have access to transitioning, how people practice their religions, the list goes on. As soon as you say ”women belong at home” or ”abortions should be illegal”, you are taking away people’s rights to make choices for themselves, and oppressing others in your quest for feeling un-oppressed. It is not feminism to oppress, but to work against oppression, so once again you would be more-so aligning yourself with sexism and other more, aha, traditional ideas of what people’s place in society are - usually with the white man on top of the rest, the white woman second in command. That is not feminism.
Additionally, to say that feminism is only about men and women isn’t true - it goes hand in hand in combating racism, fascism, homo- and transphobia etc, and if ”your” feminism doesn’t include everyone then it simply isn’t feminism. So, when we look at this traditional femininity-aesthetic, we do not see inclusivity of these marginalised people. We only see the white christian and privileged woman, who may have the choice to decide for herself that she wants to be a traditional wife, a traditional mother, whatever it is - but other people are not able to make this choice for themselves, but are rather forced into a place where they are controlled and oppressed against their will, and it would certainly leave a bad taste in their mouth to see people choosing to do the same and say it is feminism, when it very clearly is not. You are in a privileged position and you need to realize that.
You cannot turn a blind eye to the harmful ideas that you are putting forward by engaging and spreading these types of images and posts that are being echoed within the tradfem community. You need to reflect on yourself and your values and where you got them from.
To say you know trans people in real life does not exempt you from holding transphobic ideas, and you should still practice some introspection on your own values and biases, and try to understand why on earth a trans person would feel uncomfortable and a distaste for ”traditional femininity” that ultimately doesn’t recognize trans people, or people of colour, or non-christian folks. You may love your trans nephew, and your black college, and your jewish neighbour - but that does not mean you don’t hold prejudice and carry harmful ideas that you may spread around and signal to these people around you that they ultimately cannot trust or rely on you because of your stance with traditional values, that has over the course of time excluded and harmed and ignored and killed these people.
To say that you are not infringing on me is also a lie. You are aggressive in your message to me, and showing a lack of understanding to where I am coming from with my stance, and you didn’t ask me to explain in a polite way. I do not know who you are, and I do not care much either, but your ideas could be harmful and damaging to me and the people I want to protect and help. I am not personally attacking you when I say ”tradfems stay away from my blog”, I am taking a stance and saying I do not align myself with their ideals, and stand in solidarity with LGBTQ+ folks, people of color and non-christians. If you feel like that is a personal blow and attack upon you, then I really suggest you practice some self-reflection and ask yourself if you are making the people you care about feel safe around you - like your trans nephew that you mentioned.
There is a vast difference in relationship with the content we consume based on our identity. Me as a white queer person from southern Sweden will have one kind of a relationship to cottage core, whilst an indigenous person from the USA has a COMPLETELY different view on the aesthetic and what it means, because of our differences in culture, history, power in society, location and identity, and it is very important that I, as a white person, ask myself what ideas I am putting out there. I do not wish to cause harm, so I have to look at the content I consume with a critical eye and ask myself what ideas and values I put forward, and who they benefit, and who they oppress. It is important to listen to the voices of others and create a space where communication and inclusivity is welcomed - and ”tradfem” isn’t a welcoming community, as it only portrays the traditionally feminine and traditionally accepted woman - the white young woman who is blind to the world around her and can’t see past her own privilege. Hell, cottage core isn’t a welcoming community either, and I have been vocal in my criticism of it since I first started interacting with it two years ago.
Simply not being transphobic, not being racist, not being a fascist and not being sexist etc isn’t enough for people to feel safe, and isn’t enough to keep people with those harmful ideals away from you - you have to be actively AGAINST these things and talk about it and show it to people in order for it to matter. Silence is a violence too, now more than ever. 
Sorry that this post is so long, I hope I’m making any sense at all with this. So yeah, uh, tradfems can fuck off my blog.
62 notes · View notes
connorandersons-blog · 4 years ago
Text
The Perfect Interview
Connor is offered an interview with an elusive CEO of an upcoming company. He expected many things but not for the man to be absolutely gorgeous and the company to be perfect for him. Hopefully he can keep himself in check for the interview.
Or: You’re interviewing me for a job at your company, but you’re distractingly attractive and all I can picture is us making out on your desk.
(A RK1K fic!)
--------------------------
Connor straightens his tie for the fifth time since he had gotten dressed. Which was an hour and a half ago but he still felt his outfit was a bad decision. It wasn't like he even had that much to pick from, but still. A white button-down, nice slacks, and a tie seemed a bit too plain now.
But he couldn't go back now or he'd be late for his interview. His interview with a very prestigious CEO of a major upcoming company. Connor had heard so many things about the man but never had actually seen him. No one had, it was actually a pretty big mystery.
Connor assumed he'd be an old white man like every other CEO, but he wasn't going to judge. Hell, he was being offered the job interview, no way he was turning this opportunity down. To be head of security and even a possible bodyguard for said CEO was a massive opportunity. He knew he wasn't the only one to have gotten the offer but he had to make a good first impression.
Yet his hands shook as he stared up at the tall building he had arrived at. Connor actually adored the city, he loved having so many places he could go and most within walking distance. He had passed this very building plenty of times but never thought he'd work there.
The skyscraper towered above him as great monoliths of concrete and glass. But there was something rather unique about this one. It has balconies with plants and solar panels, but on the ground held even more green. It had an abundance of flowers meant to attract bees and Connor smiled.
The CEO may be allusive but he certainly cared about the planet, his customers, and his workers. That's what made this so incredible, it was a perfect company to work for. It has gotten threats because of its strong views, hence the need for more (new and improved) security for the company as a whole but also for the CEO.
He took in a slow deep breath before walking into the building. His breath was caught at the enormous tree growing in the middle of the large room. He hasn't expected that, but the tree was definitely real and looked rather healthy too. Comfortable benches with cushions let those sit and relax around the tree. Connor noted a coffee and tea stand that many stopped by. Most also handed over an identical card, while others used cash or something else
Many people roamed around and he was pleasantly shocked at the diversity. He even saw several people with mobility aids moving around as well. He felt his heart stutter at the very visible rainbow flag that said 'Love is Love'. Damn, he really wanted to work here.
Now to meet the CEO, well the receptionist who would send him up to the CEO's secretary who would then let him see the CEO. So, two people, he was guaranteed to meet first.
He walked up to the counter with a confident and friendly smile on his face. Though, his father had said he had a 'derpy smile and should stick with a indifferent face'. "Hello, my name is Connor Anderson and I'm here for an interview." His voice didn't even shake!
The woman looks up and smiles gently at him. That's something odd about her. No, not odd, different, and inquisitive. It's almost like she can see into his soul, it kind of makes him want to turn tail and run.
"Hello, it's wonderful to meet you. You will do well, Markus is on the top floor, you're free to go up now." She nodded towards the elevators and Connor couldn't help but give her an awkward smile.
That was a bit ominous but he shrugs it off as he makes his way to the elevators. There aren't many people in there but none seem too shocked he's going to the top, instead, they seem curious. Not in the cruel way some older adults are, but simply wondering who he was. He was a new face and it seemed plenty of people knew each other as they talked softly.
The elevator ride isn't long but it still feels like an eternity before he reaches the top. The top floor doesn't even have that much in it, not that Connor can see. There is a meeting room, which Connor assumes holds the most crucial meetings. There is the room where assumes the CEO will be behind, and three others that he can see.
There is also the secretary's area which is as large as a room but without a door. He walks up, and the woman sitting there looks up. Her face is fierce and almost stern as she looks him over. If he didn't know any better it would look like he was meat and she was deciding if he was good enough to eat or not. Not in the sexual way, though, he got massive lesbian vibes off her.
Her name tag said North, that was a unique name but oddly fitting and rather pretty too.
She is stunning, frown and all. Her strawberry blonde hair drapes over her shoulder in a loose braid, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. "Anderson. Connor Anderson, right?" She asks.
"Yes, that's me. I'm supposed to have an interview at 2?" He didn't lean on the counter, simply stood with his arms by his side, trying to appear open.
She nods and types something on her computer. "Alright, you can go in." She nodded to the door and Connor beamed at her.
"Thank you." She gave a small nod, watching him attentively. Damn, she could be security with the intensity of her stare. He definitely wouldn't fuck with anyone behind that door.
He knocked before entering, closing the door behind him. Oh shit. He would gladly fuck the man sitting there, though. His skin was a beautiful color, making his two-colored eyes stand out even more. He wore a wine red, slim-fit, three-piece suit. He had a black button-down making him look even sharper. He sat there in the aristocratic cutting lines of a great tailor, showing off the best parts of him.
The man had shoulders for days and when he stood up with a smile Connor was ready to melt. Or even drop to his knees. He was most definitely not a white old man.
Hot CEO who cared about people? Yeah, Connor was swooning. He also had a small scar over one of his eyes that had Connor transfixed. "H-hi, my name is Connor. I'm here for an interview." God, he was gay. So very, very gay. He was actually bi, but right now he only had eyes for the man in front of him.
"Markus Manfred, it's wonderful to meet you, Connor." He offered a hand that Connor readily took. It was so warm and a bit thicker than Connor's own. He didn't want to let go, but holding on too long could be a red flag. "Please sit."
Connor nodded and sat down, feeling spectacularly undressed. Though, he'd love for Markus to undress him even more. "Thank you for having me. I must say, I was a bit surprised at the offer and the fact my interview would be with you personally."
He expected a manager or someone for HR at least. Not that he wasn't absolutely thrilled at this, he'd gladly meet Markus again and again.
Markus's laugh was what he assumed angels sounded like. "It is a bit different, but I think that's how most see the whole company. Since we would be working so close, I prefer to get a feel for you myself."
'Please feel me up,' Connor thought, his face flushing at the thought. He needed a cold shower and a slap to the face. "I think what you've done is admirable, it's far more than most would do."
"Far more? You believe there is more I could do?" Markus leaned forward on his desk, a small upturn to his lips. Those lips probably would feel so good on his own, or kissing down his neck.
Right, he needed to focus. Connor wasn't one to stay too quiet about his opinions even in the face of very powerful men. "Yes, you are very secretive, which I can understand. But there aren't nearly enough men of color in power that is shown. I believe you could do a lot of good as a role model for youth of color."
He himself was white, but he tried to stay up to date on the world and attempted to use his voice to amplify those who were silenced.
Markus's eyes widen at Connor's words. "I'm… I have thought of that. Thank you for your honesty, it's definitely refreshing."
Connor smiled and gave a humble nod. "Of course. If anything, I pride myself on my integrity." So being blunt played off, thank god.
Markus gave a deep hum. What would he sound like getting sucked off? Was he the loud type or was he silent? This was so inappropriate, but Connor couldn't seem to stop. "I can see that. Now, I've read over your resume, your qualifications are… impressive. May I ask why you quit your last job?"
And there it was. Luckily he doubted this would actually be too much of a problem. "My boss was manipulative and was known for sexually harassing female workers. I confronted him about it and he denied it, of course. The women are currently in the process of filing reports with the police." He was still in contact with multiple of them. Echo and Ripple were sweet girls and didn't deserve what happened to them.
Markus frowns and leans back into his chair. "I see. I can promise that will not happen here. If it does it will be handled and sent to the police as well. We have a zero-tolerance policy." He smoothed his hands over the desk and Connor followed his hands. They'd feel so excellent holding Connor, maybe even have Connor sit on the desk.
Still, they went through the normal interview questions. Before each question Connor paused, head tilted to one side just a smidge, and then he delivered an articulate answer. He honestly thought it was one of the best interviews he's been in. Other than the whole fantasizing thing. It was almost natural, their back and forth.
Connor ended up learning a lot about Markus, including that he didn't like being called Mr. Manfred, and he really wanted to get a pet at some point. Connor talked about himself, saying how he had a dog he snagged from his father every other week. It was almost like a date, and a really good one too.
Still, the urge to lean across the desk and kiss the man senseless was powerful. So strong he couldn't stop biting and licking his lips. He knew he was being obvious, but Markus hadn't called him out on it.
There were pictures on his desk too. A few caught his eye. The first was a picture of Markus in plain clothes with North and two other people. They were all grinning widely and leaning into each other.
Another was of Markus and one of the men in the pictures, he was pale with blonde hair, he was leaning into Markus and placing a kiss on his cheek. Markus was laughing in the picture and someone with dark skin, Connor assumed the other man from the first picture, held up bunny ears behind both of their heads.
It was oddly adorable, seeing Markus so relaxed with his friends. Connor hoped to see that side of him too one day, even if he didn't get the job.
"I will say," Markus grinned, cocking his head to the side, "you are the best I've spoken to so far." Connor didn't think he was lying either. That bode well for the job, which could lead to a friendship then maybe even more. "It has been absolutely wonderful meeting you," he handed over his card, "I'll give you a call when we've made a decision."
Connor took it as he stood, looking it over. It was a simple card, it wasn't one you'd give out to everyone. If Connor's instincts were right, then the number printed on it would be Markus' personal cell. "Then why are you giving me your number?"
"In case you want to call me." Markus tipped his head, his eyes seemingly sparkling.
"Oh." Connor bit his lip, flushing a deep red. Perhaps Markus was interested too, in more than Connor getting the job. It would be far from professional, but Connor knew how to keep the two separate. Hopefully, Markus did too. "Ok, thank you."
Markus offered his hand again and this time they both lingered, staring at each other. Connor broke away first, chuckling. "I, yeah, ok. I guess I'll hear from you or you'll hear from me." Either way, they would talk again.
He couldn't help the smile that was covered his face as he left the office. He glanced at North who raised an eyebrow at him again before snorting. "Oh thank god, he needs to get laid," North muttered but Connor still heard. He hid his smile before walking back to the elevator. Best interview ever.
47 notes · View notes
imaginingsoftly · 4 years ago
Text
For the Love of the Game - Jake DeBrusk
Type: first meetings, mini-rants about hockey culture thinly veiled as plot
Requested: No
Warnings: lots of swearing
A/N: An ending miraculously made an appearance, so the Jake thing is actually a one-shot and not a series. 
Night shifts were the time to work. Y/N sighed as she finally sat on a stool halfway through her shift, the first chance she’d had to sit since the night began. Weekend night shifts, while her favorite, could be demanding. Everyone was out, it seemed like, and they were all drunkenly breaking bones. Not that she’d ever complain about the volume of work. It was lucky, really, that she’d managed to get a radiology tech job in Boston at all. Mass. General was an enormous hospital with some of the best staff in the country, and it wasn’t often they hired new grads without prior work experience. 
Mary, one of her favorite coworkers, slumped onto the chair next to Y/N with a groan. “I just had a 220-pound drunk guy fall on me. I’m gonna feel that for weeks.” Mary rubbed at her back as Y/N laughed. Mary was small, barely five feet tall, and maybe 100 pounds. Her size had been an advantage in college, when she was a flier for one of the cheer teams at a university in Texas, but was a disadvantage now when she had to manhandle people over twice her size. “How many X-rays are you up to tonight?” Mary asked. “I’ve seen you running around non-stop since our shifts started.”
“I lost count about an hour ago,” Y/N chuckled. “I can tell you that it’ll be a new personal record though. I’ve never seen so many random injuries before. Most of the time my people are coming from car accidents this time of night, but now it just seems like a ton of drunken reverie.” Mary made a face in agreement, and they watched in amusement as one of the orderlies hauled another drunken patient back into his room. It was madness in the halls, and Y/N shook her head. “Am I missing something? Is there a holiday I don’t know about?”
Ben, one of the doctors, appeared at Y/N’s side suddenly. “The Bruins played tonight. They won, but it was a really rough game. There were a couple of brawls in the stands, and some in the streets. That’s probably where most of these people are coming from.” Now that he mentioned it, there were a lot of people wearing sports gear. Y/N recognized the black and gold as belonging to the home team, but she didn’t recognize the blue and white the others were wearing. “The Toronto Maple Leafs,” Ben said, before she could ask. “They’ve got a bit of an intense rivalry going the last few years. A lot of tension, on and off the ice. Doesn’t help that Boston tends to come out the victors in playoff games.” 
Sports. Y/N’s mom was never a sports fan, minus Premier League, and even then she was just a casual observer. There had never been any intense feelings about sports in their house, and Y/N would never understand the hatred people felt for each other over teams. Ben squeezed Y/N’s shoulder gently, drawing her back to the present. “You guys need any coffee? Kevin’s making a run for me before he gets in for his shift.” Mary shook her head with a smile, but Y/N nodded. She would never turn down a good cup of coffee. Anything was better than what they’d get in the cafeteria. 
“Black, please. With a shot or two of espresso.” Ben shook his head disapprovingly at her, and Y/N shrugged with a smile. “I know, I know, caffeine is bad. I promise I’ve only had 3 other cups today. I’ve been good.” The coffee addiction was real. Honestly, it wasn’t so much the caffeine most of the time so much as it was the taste, but Y/N knew she shouldn’t be drinking this much of it. A voice sounded over the earpiece Y/N was wearing before Ben or Mary could say any more, and Y/N stood again with a sigh. “Duty calls. We’ve got a transfer from a Pete Asnis?”
“That means it’s an athlete,” Ben said, beginning to walk with Y/N. “I’m going to guess Bruins, since the Red Sox didn’t play tonight.” A nurse handed Y/N a clipboard with the information on her patient as they rounded the corner to the room Y/N was bound for, and Ben stopped. “I hope nothing is broken. They can’t afford another injury.” Seriously? That’s what he was worried about? Not that the guys might have a broken bone? Y/N rolled her eyes, though she slapped on a smile as she slid into the room. 
Said Bruins player was sitting on the hospital bed clearly unhappy to be there, a scowl painting the face she was sure smiled more often than not. He was arguing with an older bald man when Y/N entered, and she knocked on the door once to gain their attention. “Hi there; I was told a,” she stopped to look at the name on the clipboard, “Jake Debrusk needed some x-rays done?” The man on the bed managed to scowl even deeper somehow, and the bald guy sighed heavily. He was clearly a trainer of some sort, dressed in his joggers and team pullover, but he also looked like this routine was far too familiar to him. “He needs a scan on his right clavicle. Took a nasty hit and heard a crack. He can’t lift his right arm past about 45°, and I’m already seeing some swelling.” 
Good. At least the trainer could tell her everything she needed. “Alrighty, let me just check out that swelling and we’ll decide if we can take that picture yet, yes?” Jake softened slightly at her smile and nodded. He had a nice face, though there was a nasty bruise forming over his eye. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N, one of the X-Ray techs here. Hopefully we can get a scan of your shoulder and get you home ASAP.” The trainer reached out a hand, introducing himself as Don Delnegro, the head trainer for the team. Jake barely acknowledged her words, and looked absolutely miserable from his seat on the bed. He began to slide his shirt off so she could get a look at his shoulder, but stopped when he jolted it. “Can I help you?” Y/N reached out her hands slowly, and when Jake nodded began to help him slide the shirt over his head without jostling his arm too much. 
The bruising on his shoulder and torso was spectacular. Of course, they were nothing compared to the muscle they were coloring, and her mouth dried a little at the beauty sitting on the hospital bed. Y/N tried to keep her reaction to a minimum, but Jake clearly caught the slight widening of her eyes. “Toronto always plays us rough. We’ve got a little bit of history.” He grinned at Y/N. “We always come out on top though.” Delnegro scoffed from behind Y/N, and she reached out a hand to feel for swelling before she lost her mind. It was definitely swollen, a bit too much to get a clear scan. 
“I have some okay news, and some bad news.” Jake groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Please don’t tell me you can’t do the x-ray,” he begged, “I don’t want to stay.” If it weren’t for how childish and dramatic he sounded, Y/N probably would have been a little offended. Hospitals weren’t for everyone, but she liked it here. “So bad news, you’re too swollen for a scan. Okay news, it should only be a few hours before we can scan you. You might be able to go home before morning.” Delnegro sighed and settled in. 
“You don’t have to stay, you can go home.” Jake looked at the older man almost apologetically, like he felt bad about an injury outside his control.
“I don’t trust you to take care of yourself. I’m staying until they discharge you.” Delnegro fixed Jake with a stare that would have had even Ben cringing, and Y/N smirked at the stubbornness of the trainer.
“You’re going to want the company, trust me. It may be a couple of hours before we can get the scan.” Y/N spoke before she could stop herself. It really wasn’t any of her business if he was alone or not. Jake took his turn to glare at someone, though Y/N was completely unimpressed. No matter how threatening he tried to look, the guy just didn’t look mean. Her pager signaled a new patient that needed scanning, and Y/N sighed. No more time for conversation. “A nurse will be in to check on you every hour or so, and when they let me know the swelling is down I’ll come back.” She smiled at the two men one more time and slipped out the door once they nodded. 
Now to find someone to check in on him. If he was a professional athlete, the hospital big-wigs were probably expecting her to give him preferential treatment. They had when one of the Patriots players had hurt himself during a workout. Dealing with the business side of hospitals, the one that didn’t put patients first, was her least favorite part of the job. Mary was power-walking down the hallway when Y/N walked out of the room, and she flagged her down. “I’ve got a possible broken clavicle with a good amount of swelling in this room,” she said when they met halfway, “do you know who’s got him?” Mary looked down at her clipboard and then at the door Y/N came from. 
“I do. You want me to let you know when the swelling is good for a scan?” Y/N smiled. Mary could read her mind. “If you wouldn’t mind,” Y/N said gratefully. Mary nodded her confirmation, and Y/N headed towards her next patient. Broken wrist and a possible concussion. Jesus. The game must have been pretty wild. 
It was yet another hockey fan, this one in blue and white, Toronto’s colors. He was so drunk Y/N could smell the alcohol as he entered the room, and she tried not to gag as she positioned him to get scans of his wrist. “Those motherfuckers think they own us just because they win more often than we do. News flash, we have more cups than they do.” Y/N nodded silently as the man ranted, though she almost wanted to ask him what the hell he was talking about. Cups? Own who? Rivalries made no sense. “And do you know that a whole bunch of those assholes decided it’d be a good idea to start a fight in the middle of the goddamn game? My team was winning and they decide they’re gonna start making jokes about choking? Not on my watch.” These people are crazy, Y/N decided. No sport was worth a broken bone and a concussion. Alcohol and sports don’t mix. 
She finally got the scan, after telling the man several times to stop moving while the machine was working, and it was indeed broken. She gave the scans over to the nurse with the instruction that it was a clean break and then slumped at her desk for a breather. Ben stopped into her space with the coffee she’d ordered, and Y/N jumped up to hug him. He laughed as she sighed heavily into his shoulder. “That guy you just scanned was something else. I could hear him yelling from down the hall.” Y/N sighed again and then stepped back. 
“I appreciate this coffee more than you and Kevin could ever understand.” It was scalding, clearly fresh from the coffee shop across the street, and Y/N drank as much of it as she could. Yes, she needed this. Ben raised his eyebrows. “You know,” he said teasingly, “I’m not going to take it away if you don’t suck it all down right away.” Y/N shoved his shoulder, and they walked together back into the hallway. “How’s our Bruin? Mary said it was too swollen to do anything with so far.” Y/N nodded. She had forgotten Ben was a fan and would want to know how he was holding up. “I’m not asking just as a fan,” he said, almost like he knew what she was thinking. “He’s my patient. Just wanted to see what I was going to be working with.” He bumped Y/N’s shoulder and smiled when she glared up at him. 
Ben was like the big brother she’d never had, and she would never admit how much stupid things like that meant to her. He cared enough to jostle her around or make sure she ate dinner when the shifts got crazy. “The team trainer was with him, and he said that arm movement was limited to lifting below 45°, and he was having a lot of trouble moving. I had to help him take his shirt off.” Ben smirked, and Y/N groaned. He was not about to make a pervy joke. “No, Benjamin, I did not just want his clothes off. It was just as much a test of his range of motion as it was to check on the swelling.” She punched his shoulder. “Get your head out of the damn gutter.” Ben’s laughter followed her all the way down the hall as he left, and Y/N had to bite her lip to keep from laughing too. She may not have wanted his shirt off for that reason, but the muscles underneath definitely hadn’t been a sacrifice to look at.
It took almost 3 hours before the swelling went down enough for Y/N to get a scan of Jake’s shoulder. It was indeed broken, and some muscle was torn. Y/N bit her lip as she scanned the x-ray alongside Ben. It looked bad. He would be out a few weeks at least, more if the tearing didn’t heal properly. Ben sighed heavily. “He’s done for the rest of the season. No way he plays with this.” Y/N felt a sudden rush of sadness for the athlete in the room behind them. She may not have been a sports fan, but this was his livelihood. It would be like telling her she couldn’t come to the hospital for a month. 
Y/N let Ben go so he could break the news to Delnegro and Jake, and she went looking for Mary at the nurse’s station. “A clean break, and some muscle damage.” Mary looked up from the salad she was devouring, her fork freezing halfway up to her mouth. “Ben said he’d be out the rest of the season. Poor guy.” Mary frowned. “Hopefully they don’t let him come back in a week or two,” she said heavily, “it is the playoffs. Sometimes they do that.” There was no way that guy would be skating in a week, let alone playing in a game. Mary took a bite of her salad, chewing thoughtfully.
Ben appeared at Y/N’s side, apparently done giving the diagnosis to Jake. “I know it seems crazy, but he’s actually played through a pretty serious concussion before. And one of his teammates played through a couple of broken ribs and a punctured lung. The lung actually collapsed during a game, and he spent 3 days here.” Y/N stared up at Ben horrified, and she knew Mary was making the same face. “It’s the culture of the game. You pretend you’re not injured until you drop.” What a horrible game. 
Y/N shook her head in disgust. “Thank you for reminding me why I’m not a sports fan. That’s absolutely disgusting. How irresponsible could those doctors be that they let them play like that?” Ben shrugged like he had no idea, and Y/N scoffed. Sports were ridiculous. 
She ran into Jake and Delnegro again as they were discharging, running into one another at the doors. “Thanks for all your help, Ms. Y/L/N,” Jake said sincerely. He held out his left hand for a fist bump, and Y/N chuckled. Delnegro held out a hand for a handshake, and Y/N smiled at him as well.
“It was nice to meet you both,” she said. “Please heal up and don’t do anything stupid.” Delnegro laughed as Jake looked at her in shock. “One of my coworkers mentioned you boys like to pretend you’re not injured. Broken clavicles aren’t anything to mess with.” She nodded at them both with another smile, walking off in the direction of her car while Jake stood there flustered. A wild end to a wild night. 
_______________________________________________________________
Jake did indeed go back early, a little over two-and-a-half weeks later, and Y/N had the game on in the break room just to keep an eye on him. She could only check in for a minute at a time, but those minutes pieced together gave her a new appreciation for the game. The game was so fast, and she had to admit watching them hit each other was a rush. It was all fine until the third period, when he took a hit and went down hard. Ben happened to be in the room with Y/N when it happened and he swore viciously, something about a cheap shot and a dirty player. “That was the bad side,” Y/N said anxiously. Jake stayed down on the ice, and the pain was evident on his face. “Why isn’t he getting up?” Ben swore, shaking his head. 
“You’d better get ready, shorty. Your favorite patient is coming back.” Ben laughed when Y/N punched his shoulder in response. Ben used humor to cope, and he was clearly upset to see a patient and a player on the team he loves injured again. Or still injured. There was no way that clavicle and muscle damage was already healed completely. Y/N sighed heavily and trudged out of the break room. A call for the transfer and scans would be coming any second. 
Sure enough it did, less than ten minutes later, and Y/N was accepting a coffee from Kevin as he came in for his shift. “Heard you got the Bruins player again. Good luck. They lost tonight. He won’t be happy.” Y/N groaned. Not only did she get an idiot that didn’t know how to let himself heal, but she was getting an idiot that was going to be an asshole too. Kevin patted Y/N’s shoulder as the man himself strode past the pair at the nurse’s station, Delnegro by his side again. “Whelp duty calls, shorty. Good luck.” Y/N took off after the pair, intercepting them before they reached a room. 
Y/N touched Jake’s left arm gently, though she stepped back when she saw the intensity and anger in his eyes. He hadn’t looked this threatening a couple of weeks ago. “Why don’t we go ahead and get you scanned real quick, if there isn’t too much swelling.” She shook the anger off. Being intimidated wouldn’t help anyone. Jake’s eyes softened slightly as he took Y/N in, and he reached out his hand awkwardly for a shake. “Welcome back,” she said with a small grin, “I was hoping I wouldn’t see you back here. I told you not to do anything stupid.” Jake barked out a laugh, and Y/N thought she saw a small smile on Delnegro’s face.
“Sorry, Ms. Y/L/N,” Jake said sheepishly, “it’s the playoffs.” Yeah, she’d heard all about it. He remembered where her machines were, and Y/N was kind of unsettled at how normal it was for him to be back in the room getting scanned again. Hopefully he wouldn’t make this a regular occurrence. “So,” Jake began as she moved him into position for the scan, “the doc from a couple of weeks ago said you weren’t a sports fan.” Damn him.
Y/N ignored Jake’s eyes as she finished arranging his arm, though she answered him as she walked across the room for the kevlar apron. “I’m not. My mom wasn’t and it was just her when I was a kid. I never got the appeal.”
Jake groaned. “How can you live in Boston and not like sports? All the teams are good!” He looked so sincere, and for the first time Y/N felt a pang of loneliness for not being a sports fan. It was rare to find someone in the city that didn’t care about at least one of the teams, she knew that. “So look: our season is over after our loss tonight, but the playoffs are still going on. If I promise to be good and not injure my shoulder more, will you watch a game with me? I’ll explain the sport and maybe we can make you into a hockey fan.” Y/N opened her mouth to refuse, probably make some sort of excuse about him being a patient, but Jake hurriedly continued. “I was planning on coming back here once the season was over and asking you out. Since the season is over and I’m already here, I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone. It doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be, but I’d love for you to see how beautiful the game really is.” 
Well, when he put it that way. “Sure,” Y/N said, surprising herself. “I’d like that.” The smile that lit up Jake’s face made one night of sports well-worth it. Maybe she would become a hockey fan after all. 
60 notes · View notes
three-drink-amy · 5 years ago
Text
All the Shine of a Thousand Spotlights
Tumblr media
One chapter left folks! Thanks for sticking around and reading! 
masterlist-AO3
Chapter Seventeen - The Winner Takes It All
Ten days remained until it was time for the Tony Awards. I knew Jamie was starting to get nervous, no matter how many times he insisted it didn’t matter. Honestly, I was nervous myself and I’d been plenty of times. Just like with every other part of the show, it was different this time because of Jamie. I was still more focused on his potential win than the fact that I might win. The only real reason I wanted to win was to stick it to Frank. He’d been most unhappy after I stood him up for dinner, but I’d dealt with it. After he’d (most likely) deprived me of a nomination for years, I wanted to win out of spite, more than anything else. Perhaps that was immature, but I didn’t really care. 
I walked into the kitchen and found Jamie looking deep in thought. Leaning over his shoulder, I placed a kiss on his cheek. “What’s on your mind?” 
He watched me as I moved about the kitchen. “My parents informed me that they’re flying in for the Tony Awards. And since I canna go wi’ ye, I did think I’d take one of them. But I canna make up my mind on which one to take. Either way, I feel like I’m betraying the other.” 
I laughed, taking a sip of my coffee. “I can understand that. I took Lamb to my first Tony Awards.” He smiled at me before shaking his head with a sigh. I leaned against the island as a thought came to me. “How about this?” Jamie glanced up at me, ready to hear my idea. “Why don’t you take your mother and I can take your father?” 
“What?” 
“Well everyone’s allowed a date. Not everyone takes one. Like you said, ideally, I’d go with you. Going with your dad would be the closest I can get,” I said with a laugh. 
Jamie chuckled, but looked unsure. “Are ye sure? Would ye no’ rather take Lamb?” 
I shook my head, taking another sip of coffee. “Nope. He’s been to the Tony Awards plenty of times. Then you don’t have to feel guilty about leaving one of your parents out. You take your mom. I’ll take your dad. Then, they can both be there for you on your big night. We all sit near each other, so it’ll work out.” 
He stood up and wound around the island, moving closer toward me. “You’d really do that for me?” 
I wrapped one arm around his waist. “Of course I would. Besides, your dad is a fun guy. I’m sure I’ll have a good time with my date.” 
Laughing and shaking his head at me, Jamie bent down to kiss my forehead. “You are too good to me, ye ken that?” 
I shot him a doubting look. “I’m just as good to you as you are to me,” I assured him. 
“What if someone asks why ye brought my dad to the show wi’ ye?” 
I leaned my head against his chest as I thought about it. “I guess I’ll tell them that my formerly no-name, first time on Broadway and first time nominee told me he couldn’t decide which of his parents to bring to the show, and me, being a kind director who got along well with my star, volunteered to bring his dad so he didn’t have to choose.” I shrugged. “Just take out the part where you told me in our kitchen and how I’d met your parents because we spent Christmas together since we’re dating, and it all works very easily.” 
Jamie laughed and tucked me in closer. “If you’re sure. I’ll let them know what the plan is. I’m sure they’ll be verra touched.” 
“I hope so. I’m glad to get to see them again. I wish Jenny and Ian could make it.” 
“I thought about asking Ian and no’ having to choose between my parents but wi’ Jenny pregnant, I figured she’d murder me if I took her husband from her when she can’t fly that far,” Jamie told me. 
“I wouldn’t blame her, honestly.” 
The morning of the Tony Awards was stressful, to be sure. I was bustling around, trying to get everything taken care of before the people I’d hired to do my hair and make up arrived. Jamie was running around trying to get everything he needed gathered before he had to leave for the theater. They still had the matinee before the awards show. His parents were staying at a hotel, thankfully, and hadn’t gotten swept up in the craziness of the morning. 
“Okay, so you’re heading straight from the theater?” I called to him, cleaning up the kitchen. 
“Aye. Picking up Mam at the hotel on the way, I believe.” He zipped up his garment bag and walked out to me. Curling an arm around my waist, he bent down to kiss me. “And then I’ll see ye at the awards.” 
I sighed, leaning my head against his chest. “It’ll be hard again,” I reminded him. 
His other arm came around me, holding me close. I matched his position and wrapped my arms around him. “I ken it will be. But after this, we’re free, aye? That was what we agreed upon?” 
Glancing up at him, I nodded. He leaned down to kiss me and I met him in the middle. We stood there for a moment, locked in a slow, deep kiss. Breaking apart, I rested my head against his forehead. “One more day.” 
With a grin on his face, Jamie broke out singing “One Day More” from Les Miserables. I put my hand over his mouth, shaking my head at him, trying so hard not to laugh. “Please, no.” 
He laughed too, leaning his head back against mine. I felt him squeeze his hands at my waist. “Alright. But only because I need to be going.” Giving me one last kiss, he whispered to me, “We can do it.” 
I hugged him tightly. “I know.” Pulling back, I cupped his face in my hands. “I love you.” 
“I love you, too.” 
I took a deep breath, raising my eyebrows. “Big day.” 
Jamie nodded, agreeing with me. “Big day.” He kissed my forehead and stepped back from me. “I’ll see ye there, Sassenach.” 
“Break a leg!” I said as he gathered up his things. 
A half hour after he left, my prep team showed up, ready to make me look more glamorous than I ever allowed myself to look on a daily basis. I chatted with them as my hair was curled and pinned into a lovely updo. I pointedly didn’t talk much as they applied my makeup. At some point while my makeup was being done, Mr. Fraser showed up. He sat on the couch while they completed my look in the kitchen. Once they were gone, all that was left was putting on my dress. 
I’d chosen a dress that really stood out to me. It wasn’t the biggest or fanciest dress, but it fit what I was looking for. It was a long, bright red dress covered in intricate beading. The straps looped behind my neck as the neckline dipped slightly. Putting it on, I studied myself in the mirror. With my hair and makeup professionally done and then with the dress on, I didn’t think I looked much like myself. I wondered if my actors thought this everyday before they went on stage. 
Shrugging to myself, I decided I would do. I grabbed my clutch off the bed and walked out into the living room where Brian was waiting for me. A look of awe covered his face as he took me in. “Oh, Claire, ye look just gorgeous.” 
I blushed, looking down at my feet. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it.” 
“Jamie’s going to have to be using all his best acting skills to pretend he’s unaffected by how beautiful ye look,” he added. 
Laughing, I walked toward the door. “Well, I guess we’ll see if he deserves that Tony after all.” 
The red carpet was already fairly packed when our car pulled up. My door was opened for me and Brian ran around, sticking his arm out for me. “Ready?” he asked. I grinned and looped my arm through his. I’d been texting Jamie on the way to see if he had beaten us there. Apparently Ellen had taken a long time to get ready and they were running a bit behind. He’d still make the red carpet though. I told him he had to. 
I walked along — Brian right behind me — and stopped for pictures when asked. I was pulled aside for interviews and comments when people recognized who I was. The directors weren’t usually the ones that people clamored for interviews with, but there were at least a few that stopped me. I didn’t want to go inside without Jamie so I stalled as I made my way down the carpet. 
Thankfully, I ran into plenty of people I knew. That was how it was at award shows. I’d managed to see all of my fellow directorial nominees. John flagged me down at a certain point and we took some time to complement each other’s appearances. We looked far nicer than we did when we were deep into scripts at the office. 
“John, this is Jamie’s dad, Brian,” I introduced. “Brian, this is one of our producers, John.” 
The two men shook hands with a shared smile. “Pleasure to meet ye,” Brian said. 
“And you.” John then turned to me. “Your date is Jamie’s dad?” 
I shrugged. “It’s not like I could bring his son as my date,” I commented. Brian shot me a concerned look. “John knows the truth. He’s about the only one.” I felt my clutch vibrate in my hand. Ripping it open, I grabbed my phone and was relieved to see a text from Jamie. “He just pulled up. He’ll be walking the red carpet now,” I told Brian. He nodded in reply. 
We stayed mostly where we were, waiting for Jamie to get to us. I should have known it would take him far longer to get to us than it took for us to get down the carpet. He was the new name, the first time nominee for his first show. Every journalist covering the Tony Awards was going to want to talk to him. As we waited, I talked with a few more friends. Louise went by and we admired each other’s dresses, confided in which alcohol was currently getting us through the gauntlet that was the red carpet. Eventually, she also wandered on and, finally, I saw Jamie’s red hair before I saw the rest of him. 
I let Brian flag them down and Jamie grinned brightly at the sight of us. He grabbed his mother’s hand and made a beeline to where we were standing. It was then that I realized that Jamie had seen my dress, but I hadn’t had a clue what Jamie was wearing. I took in the crisp, white shirt with the black bowtie, the black tux jacket, and his green plaid kilt. I stared at him, a bit in awe. I’d never seen him in a kilt before. It was quite the sight. He grinned as he walked over to me and his father. I felt myself blush a little, even after all these months, as his eyes roved over me. 
He stepped right up to me, wrapping me in a seemingly platonic hug. “This was a stupid idea,” he whispered in my ear. 
My brow furrowed as I looked at him when we pulled back. “Why?” 
“It was a stupid idea to get ready separately. I feel I canna stop staring at ye. Looking at how beautiful ye are.” 
I glanced down, trying to hide my smile. Not from him, but from other prying eyes. “You might be right. I haven’t ever seen you in a kilt before. You didn’t mention you’d be wearing that.” 
Jamie shrugged, looking around at all the photographers. We were keeping a careful distance from each other. “Well, I figured Peter and I are both Scottish. Might as well lean into it.” 
“It was a good idea,” I offered. “You look very dashing.” 
It was Jamie’s turn to blush a bit. He smiled at me, clearly wanting to wrap an arm around me. I felt the same way. “Well, thank ye, Miss Beauchamp,” he said pointedly. 
I cleared my throat, turning to Ellen. “You look so wonderful,” I told her. 
“Not nearly as wonderful as ye look,” she replied. We were all showering each other in compliments. 
After standing there for long enough, we slowly made our way inside. I was glad that since I brought Jamie’s dad, I had a reason to stay close to Jamie. He spoke lowly from just behind me. “No’ being able to be myself around ye is a great distraction, ye ken?” 
I laughed softly, looking over my shoulder at him. “Oh?” 
“I havena thought about the awards once, just that I want to be able to even just touch ye,” he whispered. 
“I know how you feel,” I confessed. 
As we got close to the door, Brian stuck out his arm for me to take. I grinned at him and looped my arm through his. We walked inside the theater and eventually toward our seats. They grouped us all close together, but the nominees were always on the ends. Jamie was on the end seat just behind me. He leaned forward as I settled myself in my seat. 
I felt his breath on my ear before he spoke. “I’ve never felt jealous of my father before,” he said, laughing slightly. “This is a verra odd night.” 
Turning around, I shot him a look. “Don’t worry, the show will start and it’ll all leave your mind,” I promised him. He gave me an unsure look, but sat back in his seat. 
Sure enough, the show started and it did prove a good distraction. During commercials, we chatted with Jamie’s castmates and it seemed easier. Musical numbers being performed up on stage were entertaining. When the awards started getting handed out, it turned our attention back to our nerves. And oddly enough, I was thankful for that. 
I saw presenters walk out, knowing the category that was coming next. Jamie leaned forward needlessly. “It’s yer category,” he reminded me. I only nodded in reply. Joe and Louise had both won. We’d picked up the Tony for Costume Design and Light Design as well. So far, we were doing pretty well. I’d noticed enough in my time watching the Tony Awards that usually, awards were given to mostly one show. But I didn’t want to count on it. Just like with nominations, I had been more focused on Jamie’s award than mine. After seeing Frank, I really wanted to win again. Two voices were at war in my head: the one saying it was an honor just to be nominated and the one saying I deserved this. A strong knot was forming in my stomach as they started reading out the name of the nominees. 
I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care echoed through my head on command as they (slowly) opened the envelope. 
“And the Tony goes to…” 
Brian reached over and grabbed my hand in anticipation. Did all their pauses seem this long? I was losing the concept of time. The silence stretched on for eternity. 
“Claire Beauchamp!” 
I audibly gasped, sitting there for a moment, completely stunned. Brian’s hand was squeezing mine tightly. I felt hands grabbing my shoulders and realized they must be Jamie’s. I glanced back at him in shock and he looked elated. Leaning forward, he whispered in my ear, though I could barely hear him. “Ye did it, mo nighean donn.” I nodded slightly, still processing what he said. 
Standing up, I felt a bit shaky as I walked down the aisle and up on the stage. The whole time, I tried to remind myself that I’d done this all before. But somehow, this seemed more unreal. I’d been so focused on Jamie getting nominated and then winning, I’d barely thought about myself. 
It was all a blur. I walked up the stairs and onto the stage, I was handed an award, and I stood in front of the mic. Looking out into the audience, I saw a sea of my community, some I loved and some I respected, and also some I loathed. And yet, I was standing before them, expected to make a speech. I wasn’t quite sure what I was saying. I know I made sure to thank John. I thanked the cast. I mentioned the crew as well. I hoped I hit all the right notes because I was so shocked,  I wasn’t processing much. 
As I walked off the stage with a final wave to the crowd, I saw Jamie stand up, clapping for me. I smiled to him, unsure if he could see it. The gauntlet of interviewers and other people I had to talk to before I could get back to my seat was ridiculous. All I wanted to do was go back to my people and share a small moment. 
By the time I returned to my seat, Tony Award in hand, it was almost Jamie’s category. I squeezed his shoulder as I walked back, giving him a small wink. He still looked so happy for me. His parents fawned over me some — as much as parents of one of my cast members really could. Our little group was celebrating another win for the show when it came back from commercial and it was up to Best Actor in a Play. 
I glanced back at Jamie but he shook his head. Despite everything, he was still so sure he wouldn’t win. Even when I’d been unsure about my own win, I knew he would. The presenters walked to the microphone and began to read the names of the nominees. I could hear Ellen whispering to Jamie, but I couldn’t tell what she said. Brian turned around in his seat and reached his hand for Jamie. It took everything in me not to do the same thing. 
Yet another eternity filled silence followed before they finally called out the winner. 
“Jamie Fraser!” 
Everyone from our show turned to Jamie, all of us over the moon for his win for his first show. He looked completely stunned. It apparently didn’t matter how many of us assured him he’d win, he really hadn’t believed us. I was clapping so hard for him, urging him to stand up and go get his award. Joe clapped him on the back as he finally stood. 
I stood as he walked out of his row. Without even thinking, I grabbed him and kissed him quickly. It took both of us a moment to realize what I’d done. Both our eyes went a bit wide. I shrugged and sent him off to the stage. He looked like he was in as much of a daze as I’d been just a while ago. 
Jamie stood up on the stage in front of the mic, holding the Tony Award in his hand, and tears started falling from my eyes. I couldn’t contain my pride. 
He shook his head as he started to talk. “Wow, I truly canna believe this.” His hand dug into the inside pocket of his jacket. “I didna think this would happen. My girlfriend insisted that I write a speech so I wouldna look like a fool if I did end up here.” His scottish accent was coming out so strongly as he was nervous. Brian looked over at Jamie’s mention of me. I flashed him a grin.
“This is the highest honor,” he started reading from the speech he’d thrown together at my insistence. “I scraped and fought to get even just an audition for this show, to be in the same room as people I’d admired for a long time. And somehow, I was able to not only get the audition, but the part. All of production, I was so sure I’d be recast. So to be standing here, it truly boggles the mind.” 
I could hear Ellen sniffle. Rifling through my clutch, I found a spare tissue and handed it back to her before I refocused on Jamie. 
“I have so many people I’d like to thank. I’d like to thank Claire, our wonderful director, and John and Marilyn for all taking a chance on a no name to lead yer show. I’d like to thank my fellow cast members, particularly Joe and Louise for answering all my questions and really guiding me through my first show on Broadway.” 
I was beaming the whole time he spoke, resting my hand over my heart when I heard my name. 
“I also want to thank my family for supporting my crazy dreams and never telling me to try something more practical.” He paused for just a second, masking it by clearing his throat. But his eyes somehow found me in the audience and stayed there. “And there’s one more person I have to thank. The person who has been my rock through this wild change in my life.” 
Another pause. A slight raise of the eyebrow as he looked at me. Keeping our relationship a secret had led to a strong ability for us to read each other’s expressions and know what the other was saying or asking. And in this moment, I knew what he was asking. Permission. I nodded immediately. 
“The love of my life, Claire,” he said, with a nod at me. The tears continued to stream down my cheeks. I felt Brian’s hand grab my arm. “Thank you all for this honor. I canna say thank you enough.” Raising his award slightly higher, he nodded and walked off the stage. 
Jamie was barely off the stage when the questions started. Joe and Louise were at my side immediately. “I’m sorry, what did he say?” Joe asked. 
I shot a look at Brian before turning to my friends. “What’s your question?” 
“Have you and Jamie been dating?” Louise demanded. 
There was no point in lying about it anymore. I’d kissed him and he’d called me the love of his life. All our efforts to keep our relationship a secret were over. I took a deep breath, finally being able to talk about it. “Umm...yes.” 
“What?” Louise screeched. “When? How? But also, when?” 
“Yeah, you said that,” I reminded her. 
“Well you haven’t answered her yet,” Joe defended. 
I pointed to the stage where the next set of presenters were coming out. “You should go back to your seats. We don’t want our show to look bad.” They rolled their eyes at me. Joe went right back to his seat. 
Louise took a bit longer. “We’re not done discussing this.” 
“I’m sure not,” I replied, craning my head back to her. 
More awards were announced as we waited for Jamie to return to his seat. Brian stood from his seat and wound around to sit where Jamie had been sitting. “Well, now that the two of ye have rather made things public, I figure ye can sit together, no?” I shrugged. I didn’t see why we couldn’t do so. 
When Jamie returned, he paused for a second, seeing his dad in his chair. Both his parents pointed to the seat next to me. Same as me, he shrugged and walked to his seat. I was thankful for Brian’s short game of musical chairs. When Jamie sat down, I immediately grabbed his hand and laced my fingers with his. “Congratulations,” I whispered to him. He smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. “You bloody won.” 
“So did ye,” he reminded me. I rolled my eyes at him. “Ye’re no’ mad at me, are ye?” 
I stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out what he could possibly mean. “Why would I be?” 
“What I said?” he asked, looking a bit nervous. 
Bursting out laughing, I shook my head. “God, no. I mean, I was the one who kissed you in front of the cameras for crying out loud. No, I promise I’m not mad. After all, we said after the Tony Awards, right? I suppose at the Tony Awards works just as well.” 
He grinned, leaning forward to kiss me quickly. Both of us seemed to feel relieved to be able to show at least a little affection again. It would be odd getting used to doing so in public, but I would be happy to get used to it. 
The last award that our show was up for was finally approaching. I wasn’t as nervous as I’d been for any other award. I supposed it had to do with so many other things going right that night. When our show was called as the winner, it just felt like the cherry on top. I saw the absolute joy in Jamie’s eyes and he jumped up, wrapping me in a big hug. 
I started the walk to the stage, most of the cast and John behind me. When I reached down to gather my skirt in my hands, I felt a familiar hand hold my elbow. Glancing back, I saw Jamie smiling brightly as he talked to Joe on our way up the stairs. He didn’t even seem to know what he was doing. It was just instinctual for him to help me. I took the Tony from the presenter and stood at the mic, gesturing for John to join me. Of the producers, he’d been the only one to come to the awards show. No one else was my producing partner. Just John. 
Together, John and I thanked all the people we needed to, including the cast behind us. I looked back at them and saw the glee on each one of their faces. As John spoke, I reflected on production — the times I’d been too hard on them, the times I felt like I wasn’t doing my best, the times that things felt like they were really flowing. I thought back on all of it and how somehow it had gotten us all up on the Tony stage, accepting individual and collective awards. I felt a bit vindicated in that moment. 
The music started to play and we were ushered off the stage, celebrating as a group for the first real moment. John held the Tony out for the group that had formed a circle around him. In a hushed voice, he said, “We did it!” We all cheered softly, noting not to be too loud. 
Without even meaning to, Jamie and I had congregated next to each other. His arm was automatically around my waist.  I was so used to it, I didn’t even realize, until I saw Louise notice it. There was a delay for us to go to the press room and so Louise had her moment to interrogate us. 
She turned on us, waggling a finger between me and Jamie. “I speak on behalf of the entire cast,” she said. “How long has this been going on?” 
Jamie and I looked at each other, trying our best to suppress our smiles. “Um, Opening Night,” I confessed. 
Multiple jaws dropped open. “You’re kidding me!” Joe replied. “You have been together for nine months? Without telling any of us?” 
“Well that’s not completely true,” I admitted. “Jamie told John.” 
“That’s not completely true,” Jamie argued. “John called me and heard Claire in the background and I just didn’t lie when he asked me.” 
Our friends laughed at us, shaking their heads. Joe threw his arm around Laoghaire’s shoulders, a wide smile on his face. “Well we’re all happy for you. Disappointed you didn’t feel like telling us, but happy for you guys. Aren’t we?” He looked over at Laoghaire. She plastered on a fake smile and nodded. Looking back at me, Joe winked. He knew what he was doing. 
“We are happy for you,” Louise agreed. “But why all the secrecy? Did you think we wouldn’t be happy for you?” 
“It wasn’t that,” I promised her. “No, we just didn’t want anyone to think anything indecent was going on.” Jamie nodded next to me. “Believe me, it would have been easier to just tell you. We were just trying to be cautious.” 
“Perhaps more cautious than we needed to be, but still. Once we’d kept the secret for such a long time, it was hard to think of a way to stop keeping it,” Jamie told them. 
“It was probably pretty sexy keeping it all a secret too, wasn’t it?” Louise asked, waggling her brows. I swear, I saw Laoghaire lose some color in her face. 
“Good Lord, Louise,” I replied. 
She winked at me, walking over and throwing her arm around my shoulder. Whispering just to me, she said, “I’ll take that as a yes.” 
Thankfully, we were ushered into talk to the press and the conversation around me and Jamie was tabled for the time being. 
After the show ended, we went to the after party. It was the first event Jamie and I had gone to as a couple and I was reveling in it. My hand was in his as we walked in, as we talked to others, as we danced. It was great to finally be able to claim him as my own to the public. My whole body felt relaxed. I could tell that he seemed to be pretty relaxed as well. 
When Jamie and I sat down at a table in the corner, Louise, John, and Joe followed us. The five of us sat talking and sure enough, the conversation turned back to me and Jamie. We answered the questions we wanted to and ignored the ones we didn’t. 
“So seriously, how did this happen,” Louise asked. “I’m just so surprised by it. Not that I don’t think you guys would work well together, just that you kept it a secret for so long. And that I didn’t see it coming.” 
I leaned forward, the others following my lead. “Okay, John already knows this and I trust you and Joe.” Louise nodded excitedly. “And besides, the entire theater community just deemed Jamie a good actor, so I don’t have to worry about this as much.” I looked to Jamie, making sure he was alright with me telling the real story of how we got together. He shrugged and nodded to me. “Okay, so one night I went out to a bar and met Jamie. We used fake names and spent the night together. Then, the next day he auditioned for the show.” 
Louise laughed so loudly I felt the need to lean away from her. “Shut up!” Jamie confirmed the story. “You cast your one night stand in your show?” 
“Well, it wasn’t just my choice,” I assured her. “If I’d been the only one who thought he was a good actor and John and Marilyn had insisted on someone else, I probably wouldn’t have fought it. But they wanted him too.” 
“And clearly he was good,” John reminded her. Jamie made an uncomfortable noise. “Man, you have the bloody Tony to prove it. You’re a good actor. Stop acting weird when we compliment you.” Joe laughed, clapping Jamie on the back. 
“Wow,” Louise said, holding the word out. “That’s crazy. How did you two just act so casual around each other?” 
I looked at Jamie, remembering how I’d felt drawn to him, how I’d gravitated toward him even when I knew I shouldn’t. I thought back on how I avoided him when my feelings became too much. Perhaps I was a better actor than I thought I was if even Louise had no idea anything had gone on between us. “I don’t know,” I replied. “We just usually tried to pretend it didn’t happen.” 
We sat there for a moment, taking sips of our drinks or thinking back on production. Suddenly, Joe burst out in a loud laugh. “I’m sorry, I just keep thinking of how many fucking times Laoghaire has asked you out in the last nine months. And the whole time you were secretly with Claire,” he said, laughing at Jamie’s expense. 
“Well hell, it’s been more than the last nine months. It was all throughout production too. She constantly tried to find reasons to get him to go out with her. Girl could not take a hint,” Louise recalled. She looked over at me with a concerned glance. “Maybe you should lay low for a while, Claire. Now that Jamie’s girlfriend officially has a name, she may put a hit out on you.” 
I laughed and shook my head, leaning into Jamie’s side. “She doesn’t scare me,” I said. Nothing really did so long as I was with Jamie. 
When we walked in the door of our home, it felt like nothing had really changed. But everything had, for both of us and for our relationship. I sat my clutch and my new Tony down on the island. I could feel Jamie behind me. His arm reached past me to put his award down too. Before I could turn around to him, I felt his lips against my shoulder. Slowly, he unhooked the straps where they were fixed at my neck before kissing where they’d been sitting. My hand came up behind me and held onto his head. His arms came around me, roaming up and down my stomach and my sides. 
I needed more. Turning in his arms, I crushed my mouth to his. My hands were in his hair and my body was flat against his. As they were wont to do, his hands found their way to my arse, kneading. I felt a moan escape me just before his tongue met mine. It was one of those times when I was fairly certain we wouldn’t make it to our bed. My desperation for him came on suddenly and was surely powerful. 
Without breaking away from him, I slid his jacket off his shoulders. He shrugged out of it, throwing it to the floor. Jamie broke away from me, moving to my neck again. As he kissed a trail, I worked at undoing his tie. We were still essentially in our entryway and neither of us seemed to care. Once the tie was off, I was working diligently at the buttons on his shirt. It took me some time as Jamie started sucking near my pulse point. When all the buttons were undone, I threw the shirt off him as fast as I could. His hands moved up to the top of the zipper on my dress. 
“This isna yers, right?” he asked, panting. 
“Right. Don’t tear it.” I felt his huff against my shoulder and couldn’t help but laugh. Kissing a path back to his ear, I whispered to him, “It’s fine if the undergarments get ripped.” His eyes were dark as they met mine, a grin forming on both of our faces. 
He quickly got the zipper down and pushed it down my hips. I stepped out of the dress, kicking it to the side. Jamie pulled me back in for a long, deep kiss. My hands were all over him, unable to stay in one place. I started walking backwards, thinking maybe we could make it to the couch. Jamie reached down to remove his kilt, but I stopped his hands. 
“Leave it on.” 
He raised one brow to me and I nodded slowly. Stepping toward me again, he tripped, toppling toward me and making both of us crash to the floor. After a moment of shock at his large body pinning me suddenly, I didn’t really mind. 
“Christ, are ye alright, Claire?” He propped himself up over me, running one hand down the side of my face softly. 
I laughed loudly, wrapping one arm around his neck. “I’m fine. I may hurt tomorrow, but right now I really don’t care. Come here.” 
He looked skeptical til I pulled him closer with the arm around his neck. Once I was kissing him again, he didn’t seem to mind either. Jamie lowered himself against me, kissing me fiercely. My legs wrapped around his hips, feeling the need to move things forward. I lifted my hips against his and bit his lip. Pulling back, he shot me a look full of question and desire. I nodded to him. Surging up, I kissed him again roughly. 
His hand drifted down, finding my center, finding how ready I truly was. I couldn’t stop the moan that ripped out of me as he deftly used his fingers. It wasn’t what I wanted, though. “Jamie,” I whined, reaching for him. 
Finally taking my hint, he moved his kilt out of the way and pushed inside me. I cried out at the feeling, clutching to him. He leaned over me, leaning down to kiss me slowly as he started moving within me. We moved together, slowly at first as the fire built between us, and we rocked frantically against each other. My hands were clawing at his back as his mouth attached to my neck. We’d both be sore tomorrow, especially from the crash to the floor. At the moment, neither of us had enough room in our minds to care about that. All I needed was him and vice versa. 
I felt myself getting closer and closer to the edge, the wave readying to crash over me. Jamie was slowing down and I nearly screamed. His hands and his mouth moved slowly, worshipping my body with his attention. I grabbed his face between my hands, urging him to keep going. That was my mistake. Now it was a game to him, torturing me when I was so close to release. He pressed reverent kisses to my collarbone, my neck, my cheeks, moving in gentle thrusts within me. 
Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I reached down to the place of our joining. Jamie grabbed my hand and pinned it to the floor next to my head with a devious glint in his eye and a hard thrust. I groaned in reply. My ankles were at his lower back, trying my best to urge him in the way I needed. We’d been so desperate for each other, and suddenly he was dragging it out, torturing me in the best way. 
“Jamie,” I cried. “For the love of God.” 
He breathed out a laugh and pressed a kiss to my lips. Listening to my pleas, he picked up his earlier pace, hitting deep within me. I cried out again, for a different reason. I held onto him as he thrust over and over, bringing me right back to the edge. His hand found my center, sending shockwaves through my body. My release hit me, making my entire body tighten around him. He moved erratically, finding his release within me and promptly collapsing back on top of me. 
“Holy shit,” he breathed. 
“Yeah,” I agreed, patting his shoulder lazily. 
He pressed a soft kiss to my nose before rolling off me. We laid together on the floor, trying to regain our energy. I moved onto my side, kissing his shoulder before his arm moved and tucked me into him. We were close enough that I reached out and yanked at the corner of a blanket that sat on the arm of the couch. I spread it out over us, deciding that we weren’t moving for a bit. 
As we laid there, we talked about the evening, the surprising highs of the awards show — other than our wins. Without much warning, I jumped up, moving out from under the blanket. I grabbed our two new awards and marched toward the bookshelf where my Tony from years ago resided. I moved it up to a different shelf before putting ours side by side on the original shelf. 
I stood back and smiled as I looked at it. Jamie stood up as well, walking over to me. He stood behind me, wrapping both the blanket and his arms around me. I held onto his arms, not moving my eyes from the sight before me. “I know it’s not all about the awards,” I said, breaking the silence between us, “but that’s a damn good sight.” 
He pressed a kiss to my cheek. “I have to agree wi’ ye. I wanted so badly no’ to care, but it feels verra good right about now.” 
I looked at him over my shoulder. “I told you so.” 
“Hmm?” 
“That first morning we had here, you stood in this very spot and looked at my Tony. I told you that you should get used to the weight of it. You doubted me, but I told you so,” I reminded him, giving him a look. 
He shook his head at me, a grin forming on his face. “If I recall correctly, I said I’d rather get used to the weight of ye in my arms.” 
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, you did.” 
Jamie bent down, picking my feet out from under me and taking me in his arms. “I’d say that’s come more in handy than holding that one trophy tonight.” 
“Oh yeah?” 
He shifted on his heels, bouncing me in his arms. I screamed slightly, clinging to him. Jamie laughed, walking off toward our room. He tossed me down on the bed and crawled over me. “Aye, I’d say it’s still the better option.” 
I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face as I shook my head at him. “Come here,” I commanded, pulling him down to me. It was a good thing John and I had agreed not to work tomorrow. Jamie and I had a long night of celebrating ahead of us.
248 notes · View notes
chessiesystem · 4 years ago
Text
StEx Appreciation Month, Day 31: Nitpicks
SO, I have a LOT of nitpicks about literally every aspect of the show, like I could go on and on, but then this post would be the embodiment of this gif:
Tumblr media
So for today I’m just going to focus on costume nitpicks! Like with everything in the show I have an ideal version of everyone’s costume/wig/makeup, so today I’ll just go over my main nitpicks with the various costumes and post my favorite versions!
Obligatory JapanAus picture because those tours overall had the BEST costume aesthetics.
Tumblr media
Let’s get started:
(Also just to go ahead and get this out of the way, this post is almost completely ignoring the 2018 redesigns, like. Those don’t live in my head. I’ll just be focusing on the Broadway/Bochum/tour designs.)
Rusty:
Okay so with Rusty my main nitpick is!!! That stupid empty black space that’s above his chest plate in SO many of the costumes!! Like WHY is that there?! Here’s a good picture of it:
Tumblr media
It drives me absolutely insane aljsldf. Luckily Bochum eventually corrected this but that it was ever there drives me up a wall.
Another nitpick is his headband… I can tolerate it when it’s paired with the hat, but I can’t stand it on its own, it just looks ugly to me. And speaking of his hat, I love most versions of it, EXCEPT for the New Starlight Express one where it was styled after a baseball cap. That bothers me on a level I don’t even fully understand alsjflds.
Anyway, I think overall my favorite version of Rusty’s costume is the 2018 version… I think the silhouette looks strange, especially from the side, like kind of too baggy? But overall it’s really cute, I love the colors and the new chest plate design, and the HAT. Also really like the new makeup!! It was looking rough for a minute lmao.
This is Peak Performance (not the Pearl…definitely not the Pearl):
Tumblr media
Pearl:
Being as I’m in love with most of Pearl’s costumes I actually don’t have a ton of nitpicks. I think my main one is that I’m not a fan of the salmon/gold tones that were sometimes used for the bodice. For example:
Tumblr media
I think moreso than the costumes I’m critical of Pearl’s wigs. I HATE when she has straight wigs… the only exception to this rule is Stephanie Lawrence’s and Nikki Belsher’s because those wigs were also big and fluffy. But that lanky thing Bochum had in the early 2000s? Terrible. Pearl should have big, dramatic curls. Also, this should go without saying but her hair should be PINK. Blonde Pearl actually gives me acid reflux.
Also I don’t think much attention is given to her headpiece, but I really love when they’re big and princess-y. Like, this headpiece with these earrings? I love:
Tumblr media
As far as a favorite Pearl costume, that’s really hard because I love so many of them, but I’ll say this one. I think it’s a nice balance of pink and white:
Tumblr media
Greaseball:
I don’t have a ton of nitpicks about Greaseball’s costume… like, it fucks pretty hard? I moreso have beef with his makeup. NONE of these men know how to blend and it looks terrible. I get that it might be a stage makeup thing that looks better under stage lights but I still don’t even really buy that because every other character blends?? Also, I don’t like how the makeup is just contouring… I get that it’s to make the actors look more masculine, which does suit Greaseball’s character, but PLEASE give that diesel some character makeup!!
I really stan the Broadway makeup for this reason. Look at this Jareth-looking bitch, he looks amazing! And it’s just SO cool:
Tumblr media
Idk even this London makeup is pretty okay imo… anything to make him more visually interesting 😭:
Tumblr media
Dinah:
My main gripe with Dinah’s costume will forever and always be the apron lmao. I’m very, very picky about it because it’s SO easy to make look tacky as hell. The 2018 apron is the ugliest its ever been, I’m sorry:
Tumblr media
LIKE WHY IS IT SO BIG AND LONG. Also the silver strap around her chest is WAY too high now. I swear they tried to make the 2018 coaches more modest in the ugliest ways possible. But anyway.
I prefer for the apron to only be beneath the belt, but if it also has to be above the belt I can tolerate it if its small, like the Broadway design or the earlier Bochum designs. I also prefer when her leggings are on the more silver/metallic side than just straight up blue. Broadway and Japan-Australia had the right idea with how metallic they made everyone look.
As far as Bochum goes, I feel like the costume’s peak was from like 1997 to 2007:
Tumblr media
PERSONALLY, though, my ideal Dinah costume would be Debbie Wake’s from the Japan tours. The color, the leggings, the wig, it’s all so… Peak! I also really love how the top of her skirt is divided into sections?? It’s really cute. The only thing I’d change is I’d remove the part of the apron that reaches above the belt and adjust the color of her wig. But otherwise I love this one so much 🥺🥺🥺:
Tumblr media
Electra:
I have a lot of very disjointed thoughts on Electra’s costume, but bottom line is I’m rarely content with it… but my MAIN nitpick is definitely the color scheme. I know that it’s intended to be blue/red/silver but instead it often looks blue/red/white to me and I just CANNOT dissociate that from the American flag/overzealous patriotism alsjdlf, it kind of gives me heartburn. I’ve seen some fan redesigns of the costume that incorporate a blue/red/gold color scheme instead and I think that could REALLY fuck, though I don’t know how it’d translate to the stage/irl. Or just?? Design his palette after the bi flag colors??
Another nitpick is how boxy and bulky his chest box often is. I feel like I can’t criticize this TOO harshly because, in my opinion, this musical should be FIRMLY 80s, and that’s probably what counted as “futuristic” in the 80s, but it’s just a personal preference of mine that I wish his chest piece was more slender and streamlined. I think it’d make the silhouette better and just?? Look better??
I also don’t like most of the mohawk wigs… they just look… VERY cheap and fake to me most of the time. I prefer the looser/wilder wigs because they look softer and more natural.
ANYWAY I’ve found that the costume that actually sates most of these complaints for me is the Japan-Australia costume. The palette actually looks blue, red, and SILVER to me, and the body suit is just?? Sooo shiny and metallic and sparkly?? It’s so pretty. The wig is a perfect balance of the looser/wilder London wigs and the early mohawk wigs, and the MAKEUP is so good, it’s the only time I’ve seen a silvery/metallic base on Electra work and NOT whitewash the fuck out of the actor. Not to mention the base in JapanAus matched the body suit REALLY well and aaaah idk I could wax poetic about this costume all night aljsfld it’s really good and I appreciate it for being the, like, one (1) Electra costume I vibe with 😭.
Again, I’d streamline the chest box if I could but overall? This is peak performance:
Tumblr media
CB:
Off the bat I’ll say I hate how big his shoulder boxes have gotten over the years. Like they are just ridiculously massive, it looks kind of awkward when the actors can’t even rest their arms by their sides due to it. They look like little kids wearing arm floats. Also not a fan of how much lower the neckline has gotten, and how much smaller the bandana has gotten?? His chest and neck are SO exposed now when they use to be completely covered and it irks the hell out of me.
Funnily, this one picture pretty clearly displays all three of these nitpicks:
Tumblr media
Compare this to back when the neckline was higher/the bandana larger, he’s completely covered. He also isn’t fucking DROWNING in his shoulder boxes:
Tumblr media
Also not a fan of the hair piece Bochum has used in recent years. Like it was just so much cuter when the actors used their real hair :^//. And I just Do Not Vibe with how straight and neat the hair piece is, CB has wild, curly hair and I’ll die on that hill.
ALSO, and this is more specific to just one actor, but I kind of hate Dan Ellison’s makeup aljsldf. Like it’s well done but it just has far too much going on. All what CB needs done is his cheeks, his eyes, and his lips— all that extra that Dan does on his jawline and with the laugh lines around his mouth and eyes is just… too much. And it frustrates me so much because he would be SO much cuter if he went with a simpler makeup!! Ugh. But anyway.
This was 100% the makeup at its best, like. Absolutely peak, thank you Thierry Gondet:
Tumblr media
And my favorite costume comes from the 1990 Japan tour. I ADORE how this chest box is fitted and designed, and it just looks so shiny and red? Like it was freshly washed and painted 😭. Not to mention the red contour on his temples is kind of a Look:
Tumblr media
The only thing I’d adjust is I’d give him the suspenders present in most of his costumes, because they’re honestly adorable. And, of course, he needs his Chessie System sticker. But otherwise? This is Peak Performance.
Okay I was gonna do more but this thing is fuckoff long as it is, so I’ll just stick to the Big Six. If you made it this far you’re a trooper, thank you for taking the time to read my ramblings aljsldfs.
35 notes · View notes
theunvanquishedzims · 4 years ago
Text
Calming my post-election anxiety with sweet sweet logic
So Trump is a wannabe dictator with crazy screaming fans who are headed toward violent armed meltdowns. What’s to stop him from going full dictator and refusing to leave office?
I’m glad you asked!
You see, the major difference between wannabe dictators and actual dictators is ALLIES. Dictators are surrounded with tight security, aided by the military, cheered on by media that they control, and are either helped, encouraged, or just ignored by other countries with the power to stop them.
Trump has charged the Secret Service money for the privilege of protecting him and his family since day one. You remember the first year, when his wife and son refused to move to the White House so the Secret Service had to RENT FLOORS in TRUMP’S BUILDING to be close to them? And how his extended family went globetrotting and the Secret Service had to accompany them? And when Trump himself insisted on hosting people at his golf club, he made the Secret Service RENT GOLF CARTS from TRUMP’S CLUB to follow him while he went golfing?
The end result was that halfway through the first year of his presidency, the Secret Service could not pay their own wages. Because half their yearly budget had gone straight to Trump’s pockets. And that’s just financially. I think we all remember how the White House came down with Covid and Trump still insisted on Secret Service agents driving him around to wave at people. He has not been kind to the people who are sworn to protect him. These people have had a front-row seat to his circus since 2016. When the time comes from Trump to leave the White House and Biden to take over, I doubt they’ll betray the country out of loyalty to Trump. If anything, they’ll be the ones to drag him out.
As for the military, Trump insulted and fired four generals from his administration staff. He said on multiple occasions that soldiers who get captured or killed are suckers and losers. He refused to visit a cemetery to honor the dead because it was raining. He tries to pander to the military by massive increases in defense spending, but that money goes to capitalists who make weapons and war technology, not the soldiers or veterans. (He also hypocritically accused military officials of being in bed with those same companies.) In a poll of 1000 service members 50% said they disliked Trump. Overall, he doesn’t act like a leader, and the way he skirts responsibility (like taking charge during the pandemic) doesn’t appeal to a group that functions on trust in their leadership.
A proper dictator would have spent the last four years cozying up to his generals and making sure they knew the financial and social benefits of answering to him personally, not the office of the President. And while Trump did adhere to the adage “find a foreign foe” to unite people against, he badly misjudged what most US citizens consider “foreign.” He hasn’t found a villain that we would root for the military taking down, and the people he targets (Latinx, Blacks, immigrants, and people in countries our military has already devastated) are not a minority he can turn the majority of the country against, especially with how many of the former two serve in the military themselves. When the time comes for him to leave office, the military might be the first to cut ties with the wannabe Dictator-in-Chief.
Now, the media. They’ve been treating him like a joke candidate since day one, but after he was actually elected and took office they’ve started to take him more seriously. He’s gotten his catchphrase “fake news!” to catch on, but that doesn’t change the fact that under his administration news reporters have been harassed, illegally arrested, and generally poorly treated by Trump, especially if they’re women. He’s trashed talked everyone, with Fox News being the last bastion of semi-legitimate news that openly supports him (and their credibility has taken a big hit over it.)
Despite this support, in recently months Trump has been increasingly dumping on Fox, even throwing the mediator they provided for the debate under the bus, and risking alienating them in the process. If his supporters listen to him and start considering Fox part of Big Fake News, it might possibly be the death of Fox, leaving most of his supporters adrift and isolated from their source of right-wing news, and sending the more extreme fringes into the arms of conspiracy theory websites. (I’m not saying this is bad, being cut off from Fox and its toxic stream of “information” can actually help rehabilitate the right.)
Honestly, I don’t think Trump ever had a shot at controlling the media like a dictator would, mainly because of social media. He’s in love with attention, and Twitter has provided him a nonstop stream of it. No other President has threatened, insulted, promoted, or hinted at war over social media the way Trump has, and he gets so much direct feedback and interaction with the public and the world as a result. He could have leveraged that by buying the company (through a shell corporation, obviously) and setting it up as The One True Source of Information, manipulating public perception of him and his administration by keeping a tight grip on what information he let out.
But he’s just. Not. That. Clever. He blurts out everything that crosses his mind, leaving his administration to play clean-up on his messes, put out fires he keeps pouring gasoline on, and claim he’s joking when everyone knows he’s testing the limits on what he can get away with saying. He took advantage of the direct communication with legions of supporters, but seemed to forget that his detractors had equal access and would absolutely call him out on things he definitely said, it’s right there on his Twitter account, they have the Tweet pulled up on their phone right now. Instead of operating a single state-run media outlet while crushing all free press and limiting internet access like other dictators, he’s mooned the world’s cameras and acted surprised when they put his saggy butt on tv. “Fake news! That’s not my butt! THIS is my butt! [image attached]” he tweets. “Twitter is so biased, they haven’t censored any of Sleepy Joe’s photos!” he later tweets.
And lastly. The key to a dictatorship’s success. To prevent outside intervention, the country a dictator runs must be unimportant and ignored, wealthy and well-connected, or scary and well-armed. Minor warlords are the former, Putin is the latter, Trump might have weaseled his way into being the middle. But at the end of the day, America’s whole thing is new leadership every four years. It was revolutionary to replace a lineage of kings and queens stretching generations with a non-royal elected leader who only held office for four to eight years, but we’ve stuck to that for 200 years and everyone’s used to it by now. It would take a charismatic and powerful person to move the American people towards abolishing such a basic tenant of our democracy, and despite the mob mentality that lead a small portion of his supporters to chant “sixteen more years!” in the heat of the moment, Trump is not that charismatic. He’s not that smart. He’s not that well-connected. He’s not that savvy. He’s not that good at politics. And he’s not that powerful.
(I was going to say something here about him being the laughingstock of the world’s leaders and shouldn’t expect any outsiders to help him stay in power, especially since his tax returns came out and showed he owes people a ton of money that he doesn’t have, but this post is long enough so let’s cut to the chase.)
Trump is a greedy, small-minded man that has clung to power by appealing to the worst in humanity and scraping away at the best. But he hasn’t succeeded. He’s a sad old man who will say anything to be loved, and I don’t think he even knows what love is, so he’ll settle for attention. He doesn’t have money, he doesn’t have an army, and the only allies he has are using him as a political pawn to further their own interests. They will cut him loose the minute he stops being useful.
Now, the bad part: crazy screaming fans. Fringe groups on the internet. Mobs chanting “sixteen more years!” Men with guns and bombs and kidnapping plots, men trying to get into voting centers to destroy the election, men driving trucks with black flags that say FUCK YOUR FEELINGS, TRUMP 2020 (available on Amazon for $11.99, I wish I was joking.) I have no idea how many people in this country genuinely love Trump. It is hopefully significantly less than voted for him. There are some big issues in this country that are make-or-break, and unfortunately by reason of running Republican Trump has aligned himself with some of them.
There are people who hate everything about Trump, but he put a pro-life judge on the Supreme Court so they’re voting for him. There are people who are uncomfortable with Trump, but they’ve forgiven their grandpa for saying worse at Thanksgiving dinner, so they’ll vote for him. There are people who don’t know a single thing about Donald Trump, but they see (Republican) next to his name on the ballot, so they vote for him. None of that means those people will side with him if he tries to make a move towards dictatorship.
Now there are people who love Trump. They’ve heard and seen the vile things he’s said and done, and are genuinely okay with it, because they are full of hate and rage and want to change the world to put themselves on top. I do not know how many of these people there are. I know they exist all over the country, not just in red states. I know some of them have guns and want a reason to use them, because they’ve been talking about it for decades. I don’t know if we can trust the police to side with us over them if fights start breaking out. (And I pray pray PRAY people de-escalate any fights, because monkey see monkey do, and one news report of a MAGA extremist shooting someone can inspire a hundred copycats can lead to full-on civil war like we've never seen.) I know we need to be careful the next few months, to take care of ourselves and watch out for the more vulnerable in our communities.
And above all, I know this: Trump is not going to keep this country. He got it through trickery and deceit and foreign influence and national indifference and people not taking him seriously. We’ve learned. We’ve grown. We’re taking him seriously now, and we will not let him take what we’ve already told him he can’t have. The election is over. He’s a loser. He’d better start packing his bags. Because he’s not staying in office.
11 notes · View notes
kaiyaps · 4 years ago
Text
Blood
They called it the vessel, just so because it was a vessel of destruction. It had killed so many people across their fair country. Leaving naught in it’s wake, save for a blood stained ground. Avarice was young and heeded the warnings of the adults in the village. She stayed indoors when it got past suppertime, she didn’t stray far from the house when she played during the day and always locked her bedroom door. One night she awoke to a horrible sound, a woman was screaming, then silence. Another scream, most likely a man, silence again. Closer, she recognised Miss Callaway, her neighbour, voice talking, then silence, a short scream and silence again. She quietly left her bed and made it like her mother had said to do when you get out of bed. She could hear more voices now, the village was waking up. She hid under the bedframe her blanket hanging over the side, obscuring her from view. She was clutching the doll her mother had made her, fashioned after the duchess governing their province. She could hear her parents talking now, suddenly she heard her mother scream, silence, her father started to say something in a quiet voice she’d never heard him use before then, silence. To her surprise nothing tried to open her door, she didn’t have to climb out the window like her father had said to do. She hated climbing out the window her legs would dangle and she scraped her knees last time. The screaming and silence pattern continued long into the night, until the silence was no longer interrupted. Avarice did as any good girl would do in her situation, she went to bed and slept until morning.
When the sun woke her the next day she had briefly forgotten the events of the previous night. Still rubbing her sleepy eyes she wandered into the kitchen and found it was covered completely in blood. The fireplace, the pots, her mothers favourite apron. Everything was drenched in sticky congealing blood. It smelt awful and she decided to go outside to get some fresh air. This did not help as the morning sun was warming the blood all over the ground in the village, it smelt worse than what was in her kitchen. Feeling overwhelmed she trotted past the village square her feet sticking to the ground as she went out to the paddocks where Mr. Baltimore’s sheep were. They bleated expectantly at her, there was no hay stack for them to munch on this morning. She remembers hearing Mrs. Baltimore shouting last night. She pet the sheep until they realised she wasn’t going to feed them and scattered about the paddock nibbling on what was left of the spring grass. She picked at the grass, hungry but not wanting to go back into the kitchen. Fly’s were starting to collect around her feet and she decided to walk down to the small river next to Mr. Baltimore’s farm. She dipped them in the water and watched the blood float down the stream in translucent ribbons. Once they were clean she wiped them with her nightdress and sat by the bank throwing peddles. She was still hungry. From across the paddock she could hear shouting, normally she would stay away because it was probably the school boys making a ruckus. But she was bored and hungry so followed the voices. Eventually she stood on the outskirts of the village again, dreading the smell of blood. However it did not dissuade her for long. She marched along the street the blood having dried more now, until she saw a collection of armoured men, knights she realised, on horseback. One of them noticed her and pointed, all the men stood to attention and drew their weapons, they were aimed her. Why? she thought, knights were meant to protect little girls. The one that had noticed her dismounted at the order of one of the fancier looking knights, he had a flag on his spear. The knight approached her slowly weapon still pointing at her, she stood still and didn’t move. When he got close enough she spoke.
“I’m hungry.” She stated hoping he would understand her predicament, to punctuate this her stomach growled. The knight stopped moving and looked back at his friends, they were talking amongst themselves.
“Hungry for what?” One of them shouted, he was shorter than the others. She smiled.
“Breakfast, I have eggs and milk.” She replied, the knights started talking again and lowered their weapons, she could hear bits of their conversation now that they had stopped whispering.
“Well they didn’t say it could talk, or that it looked like a little girl.” There was another little girl? There was only little boys in her village, she got excited.
“Can I meet her? I’m sure we’d be fast friends!” The knights stopped talking for a moment then a couple of them chuckled.
“Fast friends, more like fast dinner.” One of the older knights muttered.
“We should probably search for more survivors before we move on, this-” He pointed at Avarice.
“-hasn’t happened before, we can question her about what she saw at the Duchess’ Manor.” Avarice started jumping up and down, she’d never met the Duchess, only her stories from her mother.
“I would like that very much! I want to tell the Duchess about my doll.” The knight closest to her removed his helmet so she could see his face, it was a her. Her expression was soft as she kneeled down in front of Avarice.
“Alright but first we need your name, I’m Valery.” The knight held out her armoured hand.
“I’m Avarice nice to meet you!” She took the offered hand with hers and shook it vigorously earning a chuckle out of Valery.
The knights spent around an hour looking for other people in the village but found no one, it wasn’t a surprise, What was though, was Avarice.
“Why was she spared? It’s killed girls her age before why is she different?” Avarice was on the back of the lady knight’s horse and was playing with her doll, Valery had retrieved it from her bedroom upon request.
“I don’t know Daniel, I saw her room too, her door was untouched it hadn’t even tried to enter.” Valery replied. She had given Avarice some rations to chew on which the girl had devoured surprisingly quickly.
“Halt, I smell iron.” The knights horses all stopped and it was true, Avarice could smell that familiar scent. She held her nose.
“Proceed with caution, it’s never been active during the day but we must remain vigilant.” They resumed pace the smell growing stronger until they rounded a fork in the road. Before them was a near identical sight to Avarice’s village. The ground once again stained red, the only living creatures were curious foxes and birds. Attracted by the smell of blood but confused by the lack meat. However, unlike last time, they saw a figure standing in the square. It was motionless and hard to make out it’s details as it was exuding a blinding white. The knights froze.
“By god, is that it?” The older knight whispered, they waited in tense silence. It didn’t move and gave no indication it would. Suddenly Avarice noticed a chicken wandering near the horses. She loved chickens and wiggled free of her seat on the horse, her legs dangling off the side of the saddle. “Oh no.” she said it’s just like the window, before she fell and felt a sharp stinging sensation in her knee. The noise snapped Valery’s attention to her.
“Avarice no!” She whispered loudly but the thing had already started moving towards them. Valery dismounted immediately scooping up the little girl in her arms. The other knights made a defensive line preparing for the worst.
“Run!” Was all they heard as they both sprinted into the forest lining the village, Valery knew in her heart it was in vain, her fears cemented when she heard her comrades screams. They didn’t make it far before Valery’s hand was ripped from Avarice’s and the little girl was blinded by something. She wiped her eyes seeing that light tearing into what was Valery, all the while she shouted why at it until she couldn’t any longer. Avarice walked closer to it and felt something wrap around her throat, it wasn’t painful.
“Did you care for them?” It asked her in a voice like thunder, Avarice didn’t know what it meant.
“Who?” She asked honestly.
“Who else child?, your parents, village, those knights and this one.” It replied holding up the torn figure of Valery. Avarice thought for a moment, her mother said she cared for her and she would say it, but Avarice also said she cared for other people, people she didn’t know well. They always seemed upset when she’d say that however. Her mother explained only special people could be cared for, but she cared about everyone then.
“You are as I thought, without.” It said, and suddenly the body of Valery disappeared in a bright flash, more blood fell to the ground.
“Farewell, Peccatum.” It’s voice rolled that last word around like the rumble from a rain cloud. And just like it had done to Valery, it vanished, leaving Avarice alone again, and again she wasn’t scared, just hungry.
Commentary: This piece was intended for the week 3 ‘Role of the Reader’ task. My intention with this piece was to present a trope that I personally hate. People with Autism (like me) find it difficult sometimes to grasp the concept of empathy and so I created Avarice, her name literally meaning sin or greed. In my understanding of what I wrote, I made it so the ‘vessel’ didn’t need to kill her because she didn’t care about people in the way people cared about her. The vessel, as I the Author wrote, was intended to be perceived as the desire to hurt people through their bonds with others. There was a reason it would kill one person at a time. An example being Avarice’s mother who is killed and then she can hear her father talking and he is killed shortly after. The Vessel wanted things to see it kill the things they cared about. After killing her parents it didn’t understand why it couldn’t sense fear in Avarice and left her to continue onto the next town. Even when Avarice watched the Vessel kill Valery she doesn’t grasp the situation. Which was supposed to mirror the trope of Autistic children not feeling for the ones they should love. Which is blatantly untrue. I didn’t enjoy and still don’t enjoy the trope so it was interesting to write something I hate seeing in media.
2 notes · View notes
shinymooncolor · 4 years ago
Note
1-30 for the nonamerican asks
1. favourite place in your country?
My home - Northern Jutland - beautiful nature and oceans on all sides. 
2. do you prefer spending your holidays in your country or travel abroad?
Well, as I live abroad, I spend a lot of holidays going back home to Denmark. But I do love to travel as well! 
3. does your country have access to sea?
Hah, yeah - Denmark has oceans on both sides and we have easy access as we’re a teeny tiny country of little islands with Fjords running in between. 
4. favourite dish specific for your country?
Ohhhh... I’m going to do a meal and a dessert
Main meal: Frikadeller (danish meatballs) with red cabbage and rye bread 
Dessert: real Danish pastries - we do an amazing cinnamon swirl!!!
Also check out PROPER danish Rye bread. IT will change your LIFE! 
5. favourite song in your native language?
ohhhh... “Han har tænkt” by Allan Olsen. Incredible lyrics describing my home and amazing music as well... 
6. most hated song in your native language?
HAh I don’t even know. Some of the new stuff which is just stupid and misogynistic 
7. three words from your native language that you like the most?
HAHA okay. so. I'm gonna do the three words that all non-native speakers are challenged to say heh
“Rødgrød med fløde”
8. do you get confused with other nationalities? if so, which ones and by whom?
Language wise people ask if I'm from Sweden, Norway or for some unfathomable reason Holland (The Netherlands) 
Also “Is Denmark the capital of Scandinavia?” is a classic?
9. which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best?
Germany is the only country that we neighbour physically but we’ve got Sweden and Norway just across the ocean. I love all three countries to be honest. We used to take day trips to Sweden when I was younger - the Danish Krone is a lot stronger than the Swedish so we saved a lot of money. I've been to all three a bunch of times but still have a lot to discover and explore!!! 
10. most enjoyable swear word in your native language?
Well. Bae is actually danish for poo. I know it's not a swear word but it's hilarious. You're calling your s/o a poo ;)
11. favourite native writer/poet?
H. C. Andersen
12. what do you think about English translations of your favourite native prose/poem?
Ohhh. Well H. C. Andersen was Danish and I think the translations are fairly successful.  
13. does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders?
oh I guess we do? First of all, we do Christmas on Christmas Eve 24/12. 
We also have a “Confirmation” when we're 14 which is technically a confirmation of our Christian Fatih but now it's just an excuse for friends and family to give you money and presents. 
14. do you enjoy your country’s cinema and/or TV?
Honestly, I think Danish tv is sometimes a bit cringey to listen to. Hah, I love my country and we have some hilarious films and tv shows but I honestly don’t get the whole hype of danish tv shows like the killing or Borgen
15. a saying, joke, or hermetic meme that only people from your country will get?
“Rosinen i pølseenden” 
translation: “the raisin at the end of the sausage” - or being the very last one in whatever situation you're in
16. which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with?
that vikings had horns on their helmets. That's all Hollywood. Also Vikings might have been a bit barbaric but they were also ahead of their time with a lot of societal issues such as equality, cleanliness and other stuff - also we were hella good sailors and boat builders. We went to Canada and North America WAAAYYYYY before Columbus and the other guys 
17. are you interested in your country’s history?
Very much. My mom and dad are both really interested in history - my mom is a part time historian and my dad, while not formally educated in history, writes historical books in his spare time.
We are very interesting in history in general and love to learn more and I've definitely inherited that curiosity.
18. do you speak with a dialect of your native language?
YES. hahahaha. I'm from the very north of Denmark and thus I’ve got a very “flat” northern accent heh. 
19. do you like your country’s flag and/or emblem? what about the national anthem?
I like the red and white flag. and our lion (the royal crest I believe). It’s very pretty. And yes I do enjoy the Danish national anthem. 
fun fact: in 2009, Alberto Contador won the Tour de France but they accidentally played the Danish national anthem instead of the Spanish. 
20. which sport is The Sport in your country?
MENS soccer. zzzzz. even though we’re not very good. The women are much better and we’ve got so many other cool sports where we are so much better - yet football is where the money goes :( 
21. if you could send two things from your country into space, what would they be?
A lego set (YES IT IS DANISH) and one of the royal sausage dogs probably. 
22. what makes you proud about your country? what makes you ashamed?
we're small but we’re still doing really well
Ashamed: how we treated (treat) our former colonies (Greenland and the Faroe Islands) it's awful, exploitative and we still haven't seen a lot of apologies there.
23. which alcoholic beverage is the favoured one in your country?
SNAPS. HAHA. and of course Beer (Carlsberg)
24. what other nation is joked about most often in your country?
Sweden. Germany or even the US. heh.
Scandinavian countries love to hate on each other - but if anyone else comes for one of us - be certain that the other two will come to defend. 
25. would you like to come from another place, be born in another country?
I don't think so. Honestly. I've gotten a lot of opportunities and security by being a Danish citizen and you don't find that in a lot of other countries. 
26. does your nationality get portrayed in Hollywood/American media? what do you think about the portrayal?
Yes it does. I think it's mostly favourable? however, I will say: The utopia that Denmark is the proof that socialism works is wrong: we have our own issues people. Don't fall for it. 
27. favourite national celebrity?
The Queen. What a lady!!!! 
28. does your country have a lot of lakes, mountains, rivers? do you have favourites?
Hehe. We have some lakes. but no mountains or rivers. We have some gorgeous nature though - but we’re small, flat and green. 
29. does your region/city have a beef with another place in your country?
oh yeah so I'm the furthest away from Copenhagen so there's always the Capital vs rest of the country... Copenhagen sucks anyways, it's basically a Swedish province ;) 
30. do you have people of different nationalities in your family?
Well, my family is partly Faroese, we've got some English aunties and my pony is German. heh
8 notes · View notes
ramblinganthropologist · 4 years ago
Text
Writober 2020 - 18 (photograph)
Extra, extra, read all about it: someone’s about to fucking die. As they should, because who the hell honestly believes that Commander Shepard and Commander Shepard are straight anyway?
(ME1)
---
“Do you think either of them know they were seen yet?”
“Doubt it. Definitely explains the last name thing, though. How long do you think it's been?”
“Can't have been more than 5 years, they both did N7...”
Alistair was starting to get tired of people whispering. Didn't they know it was rude?
Ok, maybe his nerves were still a little frayed from the whole touch the Prothean beacon, figure out Saren is trying to kill everyone, become the first human Spectre thing. Nobody could blame him that he was a little cranky that morning as he left his office to get the Normandy where it needed to go. The fact it was actually his ship definitely didn't help either. After years of being enlisted or an officer, having free reign was... deeply uncomfortable.
He'd probably get over it, but... yeah it felt weird.
Still, even in his terrible mood it was impossible to miss the stares and the whispers from the crew whenever he walked by. Part of him had wondered if it was them gossiping about how he'd gotten the Normandy off Admiral Anderson, but... it didn't feel right. Professional whispering from the ranks was one thing, but this felt... oily. Salacious, maybe. Definitely something personal, which just amped up the gossip even more.
Now, had he been in a better mood, Alistair probably would have ignored it. The thing was, he wasn't. So he would have to be forgiven if he took a right when he should've gone straight and walked straight behind the two gossiping crew-mates. Neither of them noticed him, of course. He was quiet like that.
“What was that about N7?”
He shouldn't have enjoyed just how much air the two men cleared when they jumped out of their skins, but forgive him if he wasn't feeling just a little petty that morning. They were both 3 shades lighter as they turned to face him, and the sweat was really starting to pour down their faces. On his scale, he'd call that shit terrified.
Good.
“C-Commander Shepard, sir! W-we didn't see you there!”
He smiled, but there was nothing friendly about it. “Yes, that tends to happen when someone comes up from behind you. Now, to reiterate. What was that about N7? Have either of you been asked to join the training program? My congratulations if so, it's an honor even to be asked.”
He would know – he had it tattooed above his ass. And he definitely knew nobody on his ship was in active training at the moment. It was one of the perks that came with being the Normandy's CO. The other was getting to see moment like this transpire before him.
The larger of the two was sweating bullets as he tried to figure out what to say. “N-no... nothing like that, sir.”
“Just...” the words failed the smaller one. His face screwed up as he seemingly gave up whatever he was holding back. “How long have you been married to XO Shepard?”
Alistair blinked slowly. “What?”
If he hadn't known better... someone had just asked if he was married to his XO. His XO, Commander Bo Peep Shepard. His XO, Commander Bo Peep Shepard, his best friend and probably the closest thing he had left to family.
What the entire fuck?
Big one rubbed the back of his neck as his face began to take color again. “It... was on the extranet a few days ago. Pictures of you two together. It implied that you two were married. We thought it would explain the shared last name and all...”
Alistair let a sigh leak from between his teeth as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “A tabloid with nothing better to do, I assume.”
He let the pinch go, shaking his head. “Mind sending that site to me? I think I need to do some correction next time we dock at the Citadel.”
The two were already racing for their omni-tools, but he could tell the question still loomed in both their eyes. After all, he could just be trying to quash the story to keep his so-called marriage quiet. These crew, lovely as they were, didn't know he or his XO well enough yet.
Maybe that was why he rolled up his sleeve to expose his tattoo. “And by the way, I think this should clarify your questions.”
He tapped the wing colored in the gay pride flag for emphasis. The other, shaded in trans pride, went without saying. Years later, he was still glad he had gotten it during pride, even if it had been somewhat of a spur of the moment choice. Ironically enough, he had gotten it with Bo �� she had the lesbian colors around her ankle.
You know, because she was a fucking lesbian and he was gay as hell.
“O-oh... yeah I guess it would.” Someone's face was turning red. “Sorry, Commander...”
“Just don't spread it around anymore.” Down went his sleeve. “Now, I'm going to go see where this website is hosted...”
With that he left them, the details blooming to life on his omni-tool screen. Once they got back to the Citadel, he and Bo were going to have to take a little trip...
---
“I'm going to murder them when I get my hands on them.”
“Don't worry, I won't stop you.”
The port hissed as Bo and Alistair left the Normandy's decontamination lock and entered the Citadel docking bay. It had been a few days since the discovery on ship, and now they were at the heart of the matter. Someone was about to get their clock cleaned, and it wasn't going to be mechanically.
'Don't forget ,you two, you don't have to testify against each other in court since you're married and all~!'
Al shot a glare back at the Normandy as he pressed the communicator in his ear. “Joker-”
'Just kidding, commanders. I know what teams you two play for. I guess we'll know you found them when we see the blood spurting.'
“You better fucking believe it.” Bo's eyes were practically glowing with hostility as she stomped down the walkway that connected their ship to the dock. Around them hummed the activity of the Citadel proper. Ships sailed above their heads, people went about their business... and somewhere, a tabloid was about to get the unholy shit kicked out of it.
Alistair checked the details on his omni-tool as they began to walk. “I traced the website's ISP to a building in the Wards. Chances are, they're there.”
“If not, they're going to tell us where the fuck they are.” Her knuckles were white as she slammed them together. “Damn straights and their height kink. How the hell could anyone think I was straight?”
Yeah, that was his question – she was built like a tank and had pink hair. How the hell could anyone read that as straight?
“I mean, they thought I was straight somehow, so they don't have a great judge of character.” Alistair tapped at his omni-tool. “It would be faster if we got a taxi, but walking is an option too. Up to you honestly.”
Bo didn't answer him. He realized why once he figured out he had lost his handy patch of shade. The other Spectre had left him in order to go storm over to a nearby newsstand where people were whispering. Given a few were running...
Well, he ran over to make sure nobody died.
“I can't fucking believe this!”
She pounded her fist on the counter, and Alistair felt like doing the same once he saw it. A new story had popped up, front cover with a picture that definitely wasn't photoshopped. Bo was front and center, chatting with a rather lovely lady. Anyone who could read body language could guess the two were probably flirting, which is probably why someone had been so quick to take it. Above the photo, a bold headline proclaimed “Commander Shepard: Newlywed in Bisexual Affair?”
Oh boy... whoever took that was a dead man.
Bo rounded on him, fire in her eyes. “Taxi. Now.”
Alistair didn't need to be told twice – they were soon in the back of a cab, headed towards the Wards. To say a burning silence fell over the back was putting it mildly. Bo was gearing up to kill someone, and he... well he didn't want to be next in the tabloid.
The cab driver unfortunately didn't have the sense God gave to rocks as he surveyed the two. “Trouble in paradise, huh? Well, there's always divorce court.”
Alistair grabbed for Bo before she could crash the cab. “We're actually going to clear up we're not married!”
“Ah, that's a shame. You two make a cute couple, being the first two Spectres and all. You could've made some wicked strong biotic kids.”
“Sir when I tell you I'm the only thing keeping you alive right now, please believe me and keep driving.”
By the time they were dropped off in the Wards, Alistair was pretty sure he had lost 10 pounds keeping the cab driver alive. His arms were killing him as they stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of a nondescript office building. It had a listing on the side, telling the different businesses inside. Their next stop was on the fourth floor... so if anyone got tossed out of a window, they would probably live.
“Alright, so let's figure out what we're-”
He didn't get to finish his statement. Bo was already walking in like a woman on a mission, leaving him in the dust. All he could do was chase after her, eventually catching up on the stairs to the second floor. All the while, a receptionist chased after them.
“Excuse me, you can't just-”
Bo turned back to face her dead on. “Spectre business.”
Their tail shook a little, but... Al was pretty sure it was because she was kind of into that. She was definitely blushing a little as she backed up. “R-right... fourth floor is what you're looking for, ma'am.”
Alistair sighed as he held up his hand in an apologetic gesture. “Sorry, we'll be done quickly. Thank you for your information.”
And then he was chasing after Bo again as she took the stairs two at a time. Before long, they were standing on the fourth floor's landing. There was only one door here, labeled with a sign that called themselves Citadel Daily. They were one of many tabloids that supplied the Presidium and Wards with the lack of news people loved, and no doubt they were one of the more popular ones. After all, they were creating quite the buzz about humanity's first two Spectres.
A buzz that was about to be repaid with a lot of violence if he didn't mediate.
He managed to grab her wrist before they went in. “Let's just... try talking first.”
“It's not you they're calling a cheat, Al.” She tugged her arm away. “I'm handling this my way.”
And then she pushed the door open, probably burying the knob in the wall. All motion stopped on the other side as she stormed into the room, coming to a stop at the heart of it. All Alistair could do was enter after her pulling the door out of the wall as he did. Yep... the handle went straight through. That was going to require a patch.
Bo glared at the room filled with desks and people. Someone was reaching for a camera, a device that abruptly died as her eyes glowed red. She might not have been good with technology, but she knew how to break it just fine. No more devices came out after that – they were smart.
“I'm only going to say this one, who the fuck is John Jacobs and when are they getting the fuck out?”
Nobody moved at first. Alistair could hardly blame them as he scanned the room. Mostly, he just saw shocked wanna-be journalists and gossip columnists who had never expected this kind of treatment. After all, they weren't printing anything particularly hard hitting. Of course, their mistake had been printing about the Shepards... which was a bad idea to say the least.
He spotted someone twitching in the corner of the room. Rather than alert Bo, he began to pick his way over. Nobody would look at him, but that was fine. He had his eye on the man trying to hide behind his desktop, looking at though he might piss himself.
And as he should – from the looks of things, he was working on his latest article.
“'Commander Shepard spotted coming out of a bar with-'” He shook his head, sighing. “Mr. Jacobs, if you were even half a journalist you would know I can't drink on my medication. That's just sloppy work right there.”
The man definitely pissed himself as he backed up in his seat. “C-Commander Shepard!”
“One of them, anyway.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Bo, found him.”
Maybe that was mean, but the photoshop job on that picture had been particularly atrocious. So maybe he didn't feel bad that hell on wheels was storming over, ready to put her fist straight through this guy's head. At least he'd stop it if it came to murder...
Maybe.
Bo came to a stop in front of the desk. His desktop fizzed and died as she loomed over him. Alistair definitely smelled piss and something else as the full weight of his crimes fell upon him. And of course, nobody was dumb enough to take pictures. After all, they were Spectres and about ready to prove what happened if you tried to smear them.
Though... was it actually a smear if they did make this guy's life a living hell?
“John Jacobs?”
His answer came out shaky. “Y-Yes, that's me. I didn't expect the story to get so big, b-but-”
Too late. He was already out of his seat by the collar of his garish shirt. Bo had him at eye level, and Al was there to avoid the pants region as he watched the carnage unfold. Someone nearby had a camera up  - a blue-eyed gaze quickly put a stop to that. Bo wasn't the only one who knew how to break technology.
“What the fuck was going through your demented little fucking head?” She brought him closer. “You got some kind of height kink, you nasty fuck?”
John was sweating bullets. “N-no! I just... a lot of people think you two are married! It's the same last names!”
Yeah, Alistair was doubting the lack of height kink, but at least he was trying to be honest. He was still probably going to get the shit beaten out of him, though. He kind of deserved it, what with insinuating they were not only married but... ugh...  straight.
Really, how the hell did anyone think that of them?
Bo's eyes said murder and her fists were willing to comply. “Let me put it to you this way, that receptionist down there is more my type than this manlet will ever be.”
“Hey, I'm a maligned party too, don't take out your frustration on me.” Alistair rubbed the back of his neck anyway – talking about his height was a sensitive subject. “Anyway, we're very clearly not married.”
“Or straight.”
He nodded. “Or straight, yes that's kind of important. So maybe you should print a retraction on those articles and apologize so you don't get thrown out a window. You'd probably survive, but it would sure hurt a lot regardless.”
Judging by the grip on his collar, he wasn't going to get out of this without some form of damage... but maybe they could keep him from getting tossed out a window. Besides, if he pissed himself anymore he was going to start leaking on the floor. Talk about gross.
John's eyes traveled from Shepard to Shepard. “T-this is cen-”
“Oh come the fuck on, she's ready to murder you do you really wanna complain about censorship? Read the room, man.”
Normally, Alistair didn't swear. However, this man clearly didn't have sense in his head, so maybe shock methods were needed. At least he shut his mouth that time as he thought the offer over. Maybe he should think a little faster.
Bo started to move to the window. “Well, he had his chance.”
“No, wait, stop!” Both his fists couldn't fit around her wrist. “I'll print the retraction!”
She stopped a few feet from the open window. “And you'll stop writing about us. No more Shepard stories, understood?”
He started to look like he wanted to argue, but... that window was pretty damn close. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he considered his options. Then he got inched a little closer, and the decision was clearly made.
“U-Understood... I won't print anymore.”
And then he was dropped to the floor in a sad, soggy heap. Bo wheeled around and glared at the entire room. Alistair stepped forward as well, feeling much more pleasant as he surveyed the terrified reporters sitting before him.
“I hope you all understand, that goes for anyone here. Nobody gets a free pass out of defenestration, understood?”
And then his eyes glowed as another camera died. “No story about this either, by the way. I've added you guys to my omni-tool news feed, so don't think just because we're off saving people that we won't hear about it.”
Given everyone else looked like they might need a change of underwear once they left, that was another pact sealed. With any luck, they wouldn't get too stupid about their stories. Of course, if they did... it wasn't like they were going to move buildings.
“Good talk.” Bo was already throwing the door open. “Let's get the fuck out of here, it smells like piss.”
Alistair was already following her out, sighing in relief as the door shut behind them. At least nobody had died, or even been really bodily harmed in the process. As far as missions went, this was one of their more successful ones.
Then again, Bo hadn't gotten to work her frustration out, so...
“Want to hit up the Alliance training course to work out that energy before we go see Anderson?”
“Fuck yes.” Bo was already heading in that direction. “I still should've thrown him out the window. Damn your sensibilities.”
Eh he could take her being mad at him if it meant nobody died. Dissatisfaction was part of being a commanding officer.
---
Retraction on previous stories concerning Commander Bo Peep Shepard and Commander Alistair Shepard
The Citadel Daily would like to publish a retraction towards two stories it printed. Along with this, we extend a heartfelt apology to-
“Well, I guess they got the message.”
Joker was chuckling as the message read over Alistair's omni-tool. All three were gathered in the cockpit a few days later, after a successful mission on a nearby planet. The news had come in as they were on the shuttle, and he had been waiting to listen.
Bo nodded as the message finished. “They fucking better... still don't know who took those damn pictures. They're lucky I didn't find them...”
Alistair nodded as he killed the feed. “Oh, speaking of. Turns out they're a freelancer. I think I have a beat on them-”
No doubt he was starting another hunt for some poor sap, but... well, again, he didn't feel bad. After all, they had thought he was straight. Someone had to pay for that grievous misstep. And with any luck, maybe this one wouldn't wind up out a window either.
You know, maybe being the CO wasn't so bad after all. He got to schedule time for defenestration duties. Talk about a perk of running the show...
3 notes · View notes
deloresisout · 5 years ago
Text
SHIPPING INFO // Answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog. REPOST. Don’t reblog.
WHAT’S YOUR OTP FOR YOUR MUSE?: I mean Sal and Delores are going strong. I have the ability to make them break up but I haven’t. Well. In terms of a forreal they despise each other breakup. 🤷🏽‍♀️
WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO RP WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING?: Everything except for the first meeting, we can plot that out lmao. Like, it has to be a really good first meeting for me to want to write the entire thing out. Because usually, they feel kind of stiff? Or they’re dropped because the partner gets bored. But really, I consider rping a romantic relationship the same as writing a platonic relationship: I want to get into a lot of things. Characterization things. Not just fluff.
HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?: Delores is [main verse] 66, but if someone younger [like, in their 40s] likes her that’s no big deal. The relationship may be unrequited, maybe not. It depends on chemistry and the realism of it all. I mean! I’d like to have another muse who is in her age group to ship her with, but that’s....super unlikely. In her 30s & 40s, Delores is still inclined to date in her age group. If not someone in their 60s. But Didi is much different in the sense she’s really into old men. Now, she doesn’t actively pursue them and is bound to be with people in her own age group, but she feels like she clicks better with old guys when she’s young. She too, remembers The Great Depression [from secondhand stories].
ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?:  Only if a brand new follower is going to link me a picture of my fc and be like, ‘hi.’ That’s just some red-flags.
HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY’RE CONSIDERED NS.FW?: I don’t know, I’ve never written smut on the dash. 
WHO ARE OTHER MUSES YOU SHIP YOUR MUSE WITH?: @armsdealing came around with Emile and that was Didi’s first ship. Then came @cocainechique because it made sense to me that Delores would love Elvira and then there’s Shariah on @pcplarstreet. They’re all very different ships.
DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?:   I’m at a point where I’m asking people first as soon as I see the chemistry because I’ve had moments...so many moments where I’ve secretly shipped things across my blogs and then by the time our muses are getting like, romantically invested in one another, the other person goes on indefinite hiatus so I’m back to square one. But partners should also speak up so I feel like I’m not about to make a fool out of myself, you know? There’s also been moments with old partners where both our muses had a crush on each other, but we never said anything abt it ooc and my ass assumed: ‘oh, they’re just complicated friends...wait? she likes him forreal! oh! he likes her too!’ I mean in hindsight this is a cute memory but it shows how I can be.
HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP?: Nobody ever even wanted to ship with Minnie (who is my most outwardly romantic oc) back when she was on @allpeechykeen so that's how I got into self-shipping. Nobody really wanted to ship with Sheila either, who was a romantically difficult person but - yeah, all and all my black women don’t really get ships. I love platonic relationships but I really don’t write (and I actually mean write) solid romance often, so expansion in terms of ships would be good period because I honestly feel like I’m rusty in terms of writing genuine romance. Admittedly, I don’t like to openly ship my white dudes much because I know people I’ve never even spoken with are going to pop out the woodwork. But even in spite of this I’m down to ship them with muns of color, though. Especially with people’s black female ocs because I know how it feels to write one...and try so hard to get a meaningful ship going for one....yeah. 
ARE YOU MULTISHIP?: Yea
ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?: I love all the ships I have but I honestly think I’m chill with it (due to life/my current emotional state/if i’m working on new things divides my focus jhkdnm) I may not talk about a ship we have every day, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about it.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?: Delores has no fandom, but like I said all my ships are different. Like Didi and Emile are a sweet pair that could be explored more. Delores and Elvira are just...in a league of their own. They’re widows who found love (and a criminal empire) together! And Shara and Del are...Shara and Del. Sometimes what they have is cute and innocent, sometimes what they have is this cordial coldness and sometimes, with Sal dead, there’s silent (or not-so-silent) pining and an underlying degree of coldness.  
FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?:  Be my friend on tumblr who talks and acknowledges me on the dashboard. Like, I’ve partaken in shipping calls with muns who had muses I really liked, but we weren’t speaking at all so it was stressful. Then they wanted to jump around w/ the ship...so it was extra stressful because we weren’t plotting anything. Having me on discord/always hitting me up on the tumblr IMs is a...really good thing too because it shows you’re not only drawn to the ship but you’re vibing w/ me as a person!! Or something like that. Other than that, always be willing to explore verses and dynamics and what-ifs.
snatched from: @grandzealot & @beenpole tagging: its a snatch game!
8 notes · View notes
caps-lockdown · 5 years ago
Text
Operation Man Flu: Part 3
I got done with Part 3 a little earlier than I thought I would, so here it is! I’m 3000% sure it’s my favorite part of this series, and I blame all of the gifs and pictures from Red Sea Diving Resort. Haven’t seen it yet, trying to protect my ovaries. Anyway, enjoy!
Summary: As a hacker nobody agent of S.H.I.E.L.D you get roped into what might possibly be your worst nightmare come to life. Will you survive the long weekend? Will you have a chance to get closer to a certain reserved Captain during this extremely stressful (and hilarious) situation?
Pairings: Steve x Shield Agent Female Reader!
Words: 5,672 
Extra Warning for this part: Get ready for Confident/Flirty Steve Rogers. And some adult(ish) situations. Reader discretion is advised.
Ratings/Warnings: I’m going to put hard R here for the whole thing because there’s going to be cussing, mentions of sickness, alcohol consumption, physical fights, mental breakdowns. Jealousy, love triangles (sort of), angst, drama, and lots of crude humor. Also as of part three some adult situations. Just strap in.
Also no Beta so my mistakes are my only thing to claim, I don’t own any characters either, with the exception of the reader, a doctor, and some random characters here and there.
It is in Y/N (Your Name) L/N (Last Name) format. Enjoy!
(Flashbacks are completely in italics) (Picture of outfit isn’t mine, found it on the webs)
Part Three
Saturday, 1000 hours
You were awoken to the sound of a quiet knock on your door, you rubbing your eyes to look at the clock on your nightstand before attempting to get out of bed. You hadn’t had the best night of sleep, your hair looking like something from a horror movie and your rumpled matching penguin pajamas not helping matters.
“Hold on a damn minute. Jeesh.” You called, bringing your hand to the knob and throwing it open.
You came face to face with a very happy looking Sam Wilson.
“Y/N you sly fox you!”
“Sam, it’s ten in the morning. You are way too happy and I have way too much blood in my caffeine system to allow that much happy.” You went to close the door in Wilson’s face but he calmly pressed his hand into it, keeping you from returning to your bed.
“Ah but I come bearing gifts!”
Your arm shot out to grab his offering of coffee, you sighing in complete bliss as the warm latte hit your lips.
“Hazelnut. You remembered.”
“Sure did! Now let’s go we have much to discuss.” He began to pull on your arm, a quizzical expression covering your facial features.
“Sam?”
“Yes my sleepy seductress?”
“I need to change out of my pjs first.”
Your close friend looked down at your current attire and nodded his head in a “Yes you do” kind of way that would have offended you if you were more awake.
“True enough. Wear the outfit you wore to the movies with me last Wednesday!”
“That’s oddly specific Wilson, any reason?”
“I’ll explain that on the way just do it!” Sam clipped at you, shutting the door behind him as you began to look through your closet.
“How bossy.”
Going through your various garments you finally found the combination of pieces your question evading pal had demanded you put on.
Tumblr media
“Now what was the reasoning behind this demand?” You chose to ignore Sam’s low whistle as you shut the door to your room, bringing the coffee to your lips to take another sip.
“I heard from Tony about an hour ago that our favorite Captain woke him up at five this morning to talk about YOU!”
“Me?” You sputtered, almost dropping your coffee cup but managing to keep your trembling hands steady, Sam nodding enthusiastically.
“Yes you! Did you really tell him that you could wave a flag with your feelings in red, white, and blue letters and he wouldn’t notice?”
“I was tired Sam, and he kept rambling on about how wonderful I was. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, and honestly I didn’t think he would catch on.” An embarrassed huff left your mouth, Wilson only smiling back at you.
“Well I for one am super proud of you!’
“Yea thanks but what did he say to Stark?”
“What makes you think I’m a snitch?” You gave him a flat look as you entered the elevator to head up to Quarantine. “Fine, I’ll tell you…”
~~Saturday Morning, 0500 hours~~
“Stark….Tony…Wake up!”
“Shit Cap…someone better be dying.”
“Just you. Now I need your help!” Steve helped a cranky Tony sit up in his bed, the only light available coming from the small office they had been using for supplies.
“What’s going on Rogers? Do I want to know what time it is?”
“….It’s early.”The Captain had a sheepish smile on his face as Tony checked his watch on the table next to his bed, groaning as his eyes strained to read the time. “Listen it’s about Y/N…”
“I saw you leave with her last night. Did you finally make a move?”
“No, but I think she did.”
Steve proceeded to tell Tony about your conversations you two had the entire day, Tony only nodding off a couple times but Steve couldn’t bring himself to be mad at the man. After all it was his fault the superhero was even up at this hour, and he clearly didn’t want to be.
“So lemme get this straight. Y/N has been giving you signals ALL day, and not once did you act on it? Damn I knew you were slow Cap but this is a new one for you.”
“I wasn’t sure if she was just being nice! I always thought her and Sam had something!” The blonde man whispered angrily, mostly at himself for not seeing it sooner.
“Did you mean what you said to her?”
“Every word.”
“I see.” Tony nodded, his mind lost in thought for a moment before moving himself back down to a sleeping position on the bed. “You need to talk to her Steve. Tell her how you feel.”
“When?”
“Obviously not now.” The sick Stark growled out, shooing the soldier away. “Go get some sleep and leave me to get some myself. I’m seeing three of you and that’s three too many for this time of day.”
“But Tony what do I…”
“Goodnight Cap.” Steve rolled his eyes as Tony began to fake snore, taking the obvious hint and climbing into the spare bed next to him. Sleep didn’t come easy, but he managed to get some rest in before he awoke to the biggest case of sinus congestion he’d ever had.
1010
“Sam that’s great and all, but we both know that neither of us is going to do anything. I mean our relationship is strictly professional. I don’t even know his favorite color!”
“It’s blue.” Wilson stated with another stupid smirk, you looking down at your outfit and back to him.
“You don’t say?” Rolling your eyes you brought your attention to the shouting that was getting louder as you neared the group of ill men.
“Tony I’m your wife and you are going to listen to me and take your stupid medicine before I shove it down your throat myself!”
“Pepper must be here.” You chuckled at her shouting.
“You don’t say?” Sam mimicked you, earning a smack in the arm.
You walked in to seeing Pepper Stark straddling Tony on his bed, attempting to get him to open his mouth to take the same medicine Bucky had taken the day before. Clint and Bruce were taking bets on who would win, and Bucky for once was remaining silent.
“Oh Y/N, Sam, right on time! Help me out here would you?” You shook your head at the head of Stark industries, coming up alongside the bed to grab one of his arms to hold it in place, Sam holding down the other one from the other side.
“What betrayal is this? Et tu Brute?” Tony whimpered as Pepper forced him to down the liquid, coughing and tossing his head from side to side.
“Next time you straddle your husband, don’t ask me for help. It feels weird.” Sam muttered, avoiding eye contact with Tony as he stood to his full height.
“That’s what she said.” You giggled as Pepper rolled her eyes, Bucky bursting out laughing, which was the first noise he had made since you got there.
“Where’s Rogers?” Sam questioned, looking around the room.
“On your left.” You heard a small voice croak out behind you, your body instantly turning around to gaze at the bed next to Tony’s.
“Rogers…you look like shit.” Your words fell out of your mouth as Steve nodded in agreement. He was in the same clothes as the day before, his skin paler than normal, and his face was puffy. He sounded even worse, if that was possible.
“Damn Cap, looks like you went a few rounds with Muhammad Ali. And lost.” Sam managed to get out, the Captain in question keeping his eyes on you, never acknowledging Wilson’s comment.
“How’d you know blue was my favorite color?” You smiled sadly at Steve’s croaky congested voice, looking down at your outfit before making eye contact with Sam.
“Lucky guess.” You shrugged, the soldier’s smile widening as you bent over to feel his forehead with the back of your hand.
“You’re a bit hot.” Frowning you withdrew your hand, making a mental note at how the blonde’s eyes closed when your skin had made contact with his.
“Thanks Doll, you’re not too bad yourself.”
“Ahem…clearly Rogers has something, he’s not acting like himself.” You scratched the back of your neck, trying to hide your face.
“Nonsense. I feel fine L/W.” To make a show of his honesty he promptly shot himself up in the bed, causing you to jump back and nearly land on Tony. “See?”
You noticed as no sooner had those words came out of his mouth, the super soldier began to sway back and forth before finally falling back on the bed, rather ungracefully. “I…I may have been wrong.”
“Don’t move!” You demanded, feeling a twinge in your heart seeing him in such a state.
“ Ya easy there Pal, Wilson gave you some strong medication earlier. You’re in for a hazy day my friend.” Bucky commented, Sam nodding to the bottle on Tony’s table.
“Will you help me Y/N? I don’t...”Steve coughed into his shirt while you brushed his hair back out of his face. “I don’t think I can do this without you…”
“I’m not leaving you. I promise. Now be a good soldier and stay right here, I’ll get you a washcloth for your head.”
“Thanks…Y/N, I don’t..I don’t deserve you.” He choked out, placing a hand on top of yours for a brief moment, you heart fluttering in your chest as he smiled at you. Even looking like hell he still managed to look breathtakingly handsome.
“Sure you do…Steve. I’ll be right back don’t move.” You reassured him, taking off to find your supplies.
“Don’t plan on it!” He called back, Sam giving you a thumbs up as you pushed past him to get to the office.
What had made him so flirty? It had to be the fever. He wouldn’t do this if he was perfectly healthy.
“That went SUPER Y/N well done!” Sam praised you, shutting the door to the bathroom while you ran the cloth from the supply closet under cold water.
“Easy Sam, he’s obviously affected by the meds and sickness. He’d never be that open with me normally.”
“Yea but you still need to give him a shot! I don’t know what more you want!”
“It’s really simple.” You rung the cloth out, turning to the soldier and giving him a sad look. “I want him to ask me how my day has been. I want him to ask me out on a date and not feel like he was guilt tripped into it by you, or Tony, or even Bucky. I don’t want this sickness to give him the courage to do something he wouldn’t do in his right mind.”
“Y/N...” Sam started, a deep frown covering his face as he brought his hand to his mouth.
“I know, pathetic.”
“No it’s…I think it’s high time you get your ass out of this bathroom.” Sam commanded before running into the nearby stall and slamming the door shut. You didn’t stick around but heard him retching as you closed the door.
“Where’s Wilson?” Clint asked confused as you came out of the bathroom alone.
“Worshipping the porcelain god Barton. I’ll go ahead and make his bed ready.”
1300
“I brought Lunch! And help!” Pepper called out to you, your eyes lighting up at seeing Natasha and Wanda enter the room with her.
“Ladies you are a sight for sore eyes!” You beamed, giving each of them an emotional hug. You weren’t the only woman here anymore, you weren’t going to have to deal with these men by yourself any longer. Thank you to whoever is listening.
“Man Y/N, you miss us?” Nat snickered at your rumpled state.
“Yes. Yes I have and I’m not ashamed to admit it. These guys are the absolute worst.”
“Hey!” You jumped as the men all complained in unison.
“See what I’ve had to deal with?”
“You poor woman.” Wanda muttered sympathetically, looking at all of the sick bed inhabitants as she and Nat took off their coats.
“It hasn’t been all bad. Clint, Bruce and Thor have all been excellent patients. Barely any issues with them. Save for Thor’s incident earlier…” You trailed off to look at the pile of wood that used to be the table next to the God of thunder’s bed. It was covered in purple liquid.
“That medicine was foul Y/N, I only did what was necessary to avoid future consumption.”
“You realize the Doctor left us with tons more right?” The three other ladies and you laughed at his hurt expression, walking into the office to set the food on the counter and start dividing it up.
“You sure Chinese food is a good idea Pepper?” You questioned the red head as you pulled the pints of kung pao chicken out of a large paper bag.
“My mom always made me eat Chinese food to clear out my sinuses when I was sick.” Pepper loaded the contents of her bag onto some trays, Wanda effortlessly lifting them to float on their own out of the office.
“I could get so much done if I had super powers…”
“Tell me about it.” Nat agreed, helping you carry the remaining containers, Pepper ending the line with a couple pots of hot tea.
“DUDE IS THAT CHINESE FOOD?” Sam piped up, rubbing his hands together like a kid on Christmas as he sat up in his bed, Bruce and Clint obviously perking up as well.
“Thank god I’m starving.” Tony exclaimed, his elation ending as soon as Pepper placed a bowl of soup in front of him. “Uh honey? What is this?” He looked at the mostly broth concoction, his wife patting his head.
“It’s wonton soup sweetheart. Don’t want you eating anything super heavy when it might come up later.”
“This is the second time you’ve betrayed me today and it isn’t even two o’clock in the afternoon. Did I forget our anniversary again?” Tony scratched his head as if trying to figure out where he messed up.
“Of course not Tony. Just consider this a little karma for being an absolute child recently.” His wife kissed his cheek lovingly before taking a big bite of her chow mein in front of him.
“I don’t want this! I want sweet and sour pork!”
“Should have thought about that earlier when I had to hold you down to get you to swallow. I know it tastes bad but you just have to get over it.”
“That’s what he said.” You said quietly, Sam and Bucky chuckling in response.
“You can want all you want sweetie but it won’t change anything. You get what you get and don’t throw a fit.” The female stark cooed, Tony pouting in sadness.
“Stop talking to me like I’m a child.”
“Stop acting like one then.” Her retort caused you to snort into your fried rice, the rest of the Avengers taking time to hide their own laughter. You had taken a seat at the edge of Sam’s bed, Steve taking up nearly all of his and you didn’t want to cross any lines. You had no idea how giant this man actually was until you saw him sprawled out on the hospital mattress.
“Hey Y/N can you pass me some hot mustard?” You complied, distractedly handing Sam some of the condiment packets, your eyes not leaving the stricken super solider a few beds down. No one had really spoken to him since this morning, and his downcast eyes were breaking your heart.
“Just go ask to sit with him, you know you want to.” Sam nudged you along, you looking over at him briefly before gathering your food and walking over to him. Nat had taken a seat next to Clint and Bruce, while Wanda ate alongside Thor, eating and laughing. You felt a twinge of guilt as you neared the Captain, memories of school and eating alone coursing through your mind.
“Care if I…If I join you?” Your voice was quiet and you stared down at your food, Steve’s blue eyes crinkling as he broke out into a large smile.
“I would love that Y/N.” You offered a small smile as he moved his feet, allowing you to sit at the end of his bed, boots handing off the sides.
“You haven’t changed your clothes from yesterday.”
“Good observation. I can’t really move let alone drag myself to take a shower and change. So unless you’re going to help me…” You felt your face grow hot as you heard Tony behind you start to cough.
“I’m sorry I must have missed something. Who are you and what have you done with Steve Rogers?” You asked, bringing your gaze up his body slowly, blue eyes meeting yours and you could practically feel your skin sizzling from the heat behind his gaze. Watching his jaw tighten you held your breath as he leaned forward just a bit, never breaking eye contact with you .
“Right here Doll. I’ve always been right here.” The statement came out like a breathless whisper and you clung to your plate, Steve giving you a flirty wink before going back to eating. You slowly released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your nerves a now bundled mess.
“Oh man would you two just get a room already?” Tony’s voice breaking you out of your trance, “Seriously, I’m trying to eat here.”
You avoided Steve’s face the rest of lunch.
1700
“I’m telling you, I think Stark is hallucinating. He called me Maria earlier.” Nat nearly spat out her drink as her and Wanda looked at you, taking in what you had said.
“Wait like, Maria Hill? Agent Hill?”
“I’m assuming so, I don’t know any other Maria’s.” You shrugged, Wanda looking warily over to the man in question.
“I’ll go check on him.” Nat squared her shoulders, walking away from you and Wanda. The three of you had been speaking to Thor and Bruce before when you had brought up what Stark had called you. The demi god and doctor seemed to be on the up and up, body temperatures back to normal, both of them able to keep their food down. You were fairly certain that the two of them would be back to normal tomorrow, as long as Thor continued to take the medicine. Which was proving to be a feat in itself.
“Helllooooo nurse.” Your ears perked up at the sound of Stark whistling, although very poorly, at Nat as she stepped over to his bedside.
“Ohhh boy this is gonna be good.” You heard Sam mutter and you moved to get closer, in case something terrible happened. Shooting your arm out you managed to grab Sam’s phone as he went to capture whatever was about to go down.
“What the hell Y/N?!” Sam whispered angrily, you shushing him as you tapped the record button.
“I have the better angle.” You winked, his demeanor changing immediately, quickly turning back to the action.
“Tony…who am I?” Nat questioned the delirious man, only getting a laugh from him.
“You’re my amazing wife. The love of my life. My favorite person in the whole universe…besides the Kid. Shit I shouldn’t have said that.” He grimaced as Nat’s eyes slanted in suspicion.
“Stark, I’m not Pepper. It’s me, Natasha.” The red head went to touch his forehead, Tony reaching to grab her hand and pull her close to him within an instant.
“Damn he may be sick but he ain’t slow.” Sam commented and you found yourself trying not to laugh, fighting to hold the phone steady as Nat’s body language changed on a dime.
“Do you have a kiss for your favorite hero sweetheart, or are you going to make me beg?”
The resulting slap was so loud it woke Bucky up from his after lunch nap.
“I DIDN’T DO IT!” Barnes shouted, the room erupting in laughter as he looked around, obviously panicked.
“For once you’re actually right.” Sam attempted to calm the shocked man down, you ending the video, laughing too hard at everything going on to hold the phone.
“Is Maria okay?” Tony asked, your laughter only getting louder as everyone else chimed in.
1800
“No way. HELL NO!” Your voice was shrill, anger reaching its absolute limits.
“Come on Y/N. You just have to sit outside the bathroom and make sure Rogers and Wilson don’t die in the shower.” Nat encouraged you, your head whipping to the side to stare at her incredulously.
“Absolutely fucking not. You can’t pay me enough to even consider it!” You crossed your arms over your chest in defiance.
“Listen we aren’t happy either. Do you think I want to risk seeing Clint naked?”
“Or I Bucky?” Wanda cut in, you pinching the bridge of your nose as you weighed your options. Pepper had already helped Tony up to their suite, getting him cleaned up after the “mistaken identity” accident. Doctor Hooper made a house call to put him on different medication. He seemed to look a ton better, smiling and talking to his wife about future meetings for the company. Not that he would likely remember any of today.
“Fine. Fine. But if anything happens YOU are paying my therapy bills.” You conceded, already hating the idea of having to play bodyguard to your crush and close friend. Sucking up your attitude you calmly walked over to the elevator, Sam and Steve already waiting for you.
“Cheer up Y/N, you could have been stuck giving Tony a sponge bath.”
“Just don’t make me regret this Sam. I have never seen you naked, and I’d like to keep that record thank you.” You grimaced at the idea, all of you cramming into the small steel box.
“We’re showering in my room.” Steve finally spoke up and you noticed Sam was shaking his head.
“Not happening Rogers, my room is closer. And I ain’t using your feminine ass hair products.”
“Why don’t we just leave you there on our way to my room then?” The Captain challenged, Wilson not backing down.
“Why so you can keep Y/N all to yourself? She was my friend first Cap, and regardless of you two’s pent up sexual tension, it’s bros before hoes.”
“You two keep this up and I’m going to drown both of you.” You snapped, both of their voices dying down. “This is how it’s going to happen. We’re going to Sam’s room first so he can shower quickly. I’ve seen him in and out within ten minutes before, and he’s not nearly as grimy as he is after a mission. Then, we can go up to your room Rogers, and you can take as long as your pretty head needs.”
“Fine” The two men agreed as you stepped out of the elevator, quickly making short work of the hallway leading to Sam’s room. You sat on his bed while Steve took the only chair in his room. He was right on the money, in and out of the shower in less than 10, fresh night clothes that weren’t stained with Chinese food and possibly bile.
“You’re wearing the pajamas I bought you!” You squealed upon seeing him in the green shirt that said “Sleeping is my cardio” in bold white lettering, along with matching flannel pants.
“Hell ya I am. They’re really comfy. You’re the sweetest.” You noticed Steve’s jaw lock up, his expression tense with deep thought. You’d kill to find out what he was thinking, he almost looked…jealous. But this wasn’t the first time. He had been acting strange with you all day, even the others had picked up on his weird vibes. He remained silent as the three of you started your trek to his room, the only sound being an occasional cough.
“I’ll wait out in the hall, you two take your time…” Sam crooned at you, Steve sputtering as you giggled, never having set foot in Steve’s room before. Watching him open the door, your eyes widened at the sheer space of it. So being the first Avenger does pay well after all. You thought, taking in the simple blue décor and clean smelling furniture.
“Sorry we don’t have time for a tour.” He said sheepishly, taking a towel out of a closet before opening his bedroom door. “Shall we?” You had to remind yourself to stay calm and keep your heart rate in check.
“Your bathroom is in your bedroom?” Gulping hard you looked at him, the blonde only nodding slowly. Peachy. This was it. This is how you die.
“Yours isn’t?”
“My whole room is like, a third of this space. That doesn’t count.” His laughter rang in your ears as he opened the door wider.
“If you’re nervous, how about I just leave this door open?”
“I’m not nervous,” You answered, again way too fast for your liking, “but that would be greatly appreciated thank you.” He nodded at you before stepping through his room and into his bathroom, the door shutting behind him. You felt a little bummed out that you hadn’t gotten to see him shirtless. But he was also very sick. And mostly helpless. And once you heard the shower start to run you realized there was one door standing in the way of you and a very naked, very sick, and mostly helpless Steve Rogers. The steam coming out from under the door had your mouth watering at the thought. It’s not like his suits left a ton to the imagination. An extremely loud thud awoke you from your impure thoughts long enough to grasp your courage and race into his room.
“Steve? You alright in there?”
“Yea Y/N I’m fine, just dropped my body wash.” You leaned your back against the door, hand on your hammering heart.
“Thank god. About gave me a damn heart attack Rogers.” You joked, calming down some. Sadly you didn’t hear the water flow cease. Your balance was thrown off when the door was pulled open, you jolting backward until you felt your back hit bare chest. Your blood was rushing in your ears as you felt an arm instinctively wrap around your waist to steady you. Fighting the urge to take in deep breaths of his intoxicating scent, you slowly and reluctantly peeled his arm off of you.
“Sorry!” The apology came out as jumbled mess as you went to step out of the way, careful to avoid looking at him, lest your ovaries explode upon contact.
“It’s alright Y/N, really.”
“No it’s not I should have moved sooner.” You heard footsteps and felt a large hand touch your shoulder. Your mind flashed with memories of yesterday, feelings overcoming you and willing you to turn around to look at him.
Sign your last will and testament now, because you were sure you were going to die. Water droplets clung to his half naked body, his damp hair hanging in his face. You were extremely thankful his other hand held on to the towel that was wrapped loosely around his waist, but you’d be lying through your teeth if you didn’t take an extra minute to appreciate his abs before forcing your eyes to meet his.
“You can fall into me anytime Y/N.” His tone was hushed, blue eyes crinkling as you began to close the distance, a sudden burst of confidence pushing you two closer together.
“Promise?” You whispered back to him, feeling his hand on your shoulder move to sit at the base of your neck, pulling you closer to him until you could feel his body heat mixing with your own. You watched his eyes dart from yours to your lips and then back again, as if battling with himself for a brief moment before bringing his face to yours at a deliciously slow pace. Your eyes began to close on their own, feeling his breath on your lips and your hands reaching to touch his chest.
“Hey you two done yet?”
The two of you jumped apart like you had been shot, your face burning with the intensity of the sun as Sam stood, looking totally slack jawed at the scene before him.
“We are now. Thanks Wilson.”
“I’ll uh…I’ll wait outside.” Sam’s apologetic face was almost comical as he back peddled out of the room, nervous laughter escaping you when he was finally gone.
“You should…um..put on some clothes. I’ll just…be out in the hall.” Your eyes met his momentarily before you dragged yourself out of his room. You didn’t look or speak to either man the entire way back to quarantine.
1930
“We are out of here!” Bruce brought his hand up to high five a very happy looking god of thunder.
“Well two down, five to go.” You muttered to yourself as Bruce and Thor were given the all clear from Doctor Hooper before she left for the evening, the two men more than elated to break out of there.
“I’ll miss them. They aren’t the problem.” Wanda spoke, you giving her an agreeing nod as they came over to you.
“Y/N you have been the most wonderful caretaker. We owe you a debt.” Thor grasped your hands in his before pulling you into a hug, the air being squashed in your lungs as he tightened his grip, picking you up a few inches off the ground.
“Easy there, you and Banner were the LEAST of my problems. I’ll gladly help you out anytime you fall sick.” You gasped as he set you on the ground, Bruce simply patting you on the back.
“Sorry you’re still stuck with them.” The doctor smiled at you sympathetically, all three of your gazes looming over the fighting Tony and Bucky. Again.
“I don’t CARE what you think, I KNOW what I’m talking about!”
“This coming from the guy who didn’t KNOW Nat wasn’t his wife an hour ago! I don’t believe a damn thing that comes out of your stupid mouth right now Stark!”
“Y/N, please give these idiots some sedatives so I can get rid of this headache.” Sam pleaded with you, Thor chuckling as he and Bruce turned to leave the hall.
“Best of luck Y/N. We’ll be sure to supply you with plenty of alcoholic beverages when this is all over.” Bruce smiled, you waving while the ladies walked them out.
2100
“Y/N would you kindly inform Barnes here that Lion King is far superior to Aladdin.” Tony asked as you began preparing doses of an extra strength equivalent to Nyquil for the remaining men.
“Sorry Stark, I’m prefer Beauty and the Beast.” You giggled at Tony’s hurt expression, a shocked gasp leaving Bucky’s lips and Sam rolling his eyes in annoyance.
“I’ll take that first Y/N, the sooner I down that nasty stuff the sooner I can forget these conversations.” Sam deadpanned, greedily taking the medicine and swallowing it in one gulp, throwing his body dramatically in the opposite direction. He pulled the pillow over his head, you shaking your own as you passed the other two men their shares.
“Here’s lookin at you kid.” Tony winked as he slowly drank the thick liquid, his lip curling in disgust as he laid down, eyes falling shut after a mere ten minutes.
“Damn out for the count, what a baby.” Bucky whispered before drinking his dose.
“Unlike you, some people didn’t sleep most of the day away.” You quipped, him waving you off.
“Details, details. Go give Rogers his. I’ll even sleep on my side to give you two some privacy.” It took everything not to smother him with his own pillow, Bucky waggling his eyebrows at you before being true to his word and turning away.
“Nightcap for Cap?” You shook the bottle as you neared his bed, the blonde only letting out a raspy chuckle. He moved over so you could sit at his side, uncapping the potent concoction while he continued to stare at you. “How ya feeling?”
“Like you’re avoiding me.” His retort was short and curt, causing you to guiltily shuffle your boot along the floor.
“I’m not I just…I needed to process…what almost happened earlier tonight.” You answered honestly, blue eyes softening and sucking you in again. “You’re sick and I almost took advantage of you in this state and I’m sorry for that.”
“Y/N you weren’t taking advantage of me at all.” His hand covered yours as you went to hand him his small cup of medicine.
“You’re killing me Steve.” You groaned, watching as he downed his dose, nostrils flaring at the unpleasant taste and setting the medicine on the table. His hand returned to yours and you sighed at the returning warmth. “I’m never like this.” You confessed slowly, eyes never moving from your joined hands.
“You really have no idea what you do to me Doll. What you’ve been doing to me for weeks now.” Breaking away from your hands your face came back to stare at his intently.
“Really?” You asked, your head tilting to the side, nearly swooning as he bit his lip with a nod.
“Really. Now before I risk making an ass out of myself I suggest we both get some sleep. We can talk about this when I’m not sick. That way you don’t feel like I’m not myself or like you’re taking advantage of me. Which let’s be clear, you just have to say the time and place and I’ll gladly be there for you to take advantage of me any way you want. “ He rubbed your cheek fondly, a sleepy goofy grin on his features.
“Deal. Sleep sweet Steve.” You stood up from the bed, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on his forehead.
“Sweet dreams Y/N.”
For the first time in months you dropped like a sack of potatoes on your bed, sleep coming swiftly, your mind filled with the most wonderful dreams. Mostly about a certain blonde in a towel.
Tag List: @kaytizzle @cuffski @giggleberts
67 notes · View notes
Note
Have you seen the finale, do you have any thoughts?
Hello! I did see the finale! I have many, many thoughts. --SPOILERS-- The finale felt very rushed and thrown together, but I read that they had to cut two episodes entirely from the season due to COVID-19 and I commend them for working with the circumstances they were faced with. I had to postpone my own short film, so I totally understand that the pandemic threw a wrench into productions. From a writing standpoint, there were a LOT of plot holes. I still am confused as to why Endicott didn’t just kill Martin a long time ago. I am confused as to why Endicott found and killed Eve, but not Sophie as well, when it sounds like they were living together when they found each other. I’m sad that they threw away Everett Sterling’s character for the sake of trying to make us more scared of Endicott. Honestly, I thought Sterling was going to fill Endicott’s role of being the ‘big bad guy.’ His nickname was literally The Devil and I think they could have achieved a lot of what they wanted to do with Endicott by simply using Sterling instead. However, I understand that the romantic fling with Jessica wouldn’t have been possible with Sterling. I felt like they did a sloppy job with the issue of Dani, JT, and Gil being untrusting of Malcolm-- and then all of a sudden on Malcolm’s side again, solely for plot convenience. That whole dynamic felt very unnatural and forced, to me. I think Dani especially did not show enough of an emotional struggle between believing her friend and doing her job of being a police officer during those scenes. I thought that the reveal that Martin didn’t actually have any dirt on Endicott was SO lame and a huge let-down and it only gave me so many more questions about his whole dynamic with Endicott. I feel like it was a cop-out for the writers because they didn’t have any ideas on what Endicott’s dirt could have been. I highly doubt that Martin would have let Sophie go from the cabin all those years ago, ESPECIALLY if she hadn’t even given him anything to hold over Endicott’s head. That whole story just makes no sense to me. I could go on and on about how it makes no sense for Martin to let Sophie go and how his character would NOT have done that, in my opinion. I also expected that Endicott and Ainsley would have more of a dynamic with the whole ‘White House reporter’ thing he offered her in the episode prior, but I assume that their story got cut with the COVID craziness. But since we got nothing else out of that interaction, I wasn’t convinced that Ainsley had any conflict going on with him, nor enough motivation to kill him. I was also never scared of Endicott, which is a shame. I was never convinced that he was scary, because his ‘secrets’ were so vague and non-existent, and all of his murders were through someone else, like hit men. I wasn’t convinced of his power. I expected --at one point-- that Sophie had killed Eve when Eve found her, because perhaps Endicott made her. That would have made me scared of Endicott and that would have convinced me of his power, going along with the quote that ‘It takes a real monster to turn someone else into a monster.’ But they didn’t take it in that direction.*** I am very happy that they shoved Ainsley in the direction of ‘being like her father,’ but I feel like it was a very forced and rushed journey. I understand they sprinkled a few red flags in her actions and dialogue throughout the season, but I think they could have sprinkled in a lot more moments of her instability to make it more meaningful in the end. The way they did it, it felt like it was for the sole purpose of surprising the audience at the end of the episode, and not an actual character journey. I would have preferred that Ainsley would have been more prevalent in the show leading up to this finale, as a parallel character to Malcolm, to showcase a dichotomy and a difference between her perception of/relationship with her father in contrast to Malcolm’s perception of/relationship with him. But they used her solely as a side-character that they brought to the forefront of the story only when it was convenient for their plot, and I think that did her character’s potential a great injustice. *** Also, this quote would have been fantastic to use in connection with Martin and Ainsley --if we had seen more of Martin influencing her over the season. But again, they missed out on that opportunity. That being said, I thought there were great parts sprinkled through the episode. I like that Jessica had a chance to show her strength and bravery by saving Gil. I like that we got to see Martin scared and out of his element and adapting to new circumstances and saying ‘goodbye’ to his kids, saying that they were the best things in his life. I love his stillness amidst the chaos in that final prison scene, and I believe they did a good job of leaving it open to possibly tag-on a breakout at the start of the next season if they decide to go that direction. I like that Ainsley FINALLY had another small moment with Martin during their meeting, giving him a harsh reality check and reminding him of his strength. And I like that Malcolm was finally able to save The Girl in the Box by taking the blame for her murder of the deaf/blind guard. That almost made me cry!
1 note · View note