#junior doctor contract

[imaginaryf1shots]

My Girls (||) | Max Verstappen

Words count: 3072

Driver!OC X Max Verstappen

Summery: Cecilia Hansson daughter of a Swedish billionaire, a race car driver, with a dream of making it big in Formula 1. However she has a few secrets that may hurt her as women are disliked in the sport.

Series Warnings: cursing, child abandment, absent father, drinking, car accidents, Jos Verstappen, misogyny, Christian horner (tell me if i missed anything)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Max Masterlist

Previous || Next

A new beginning 

Both Max and Cecilia followed each other’s carriers.

When Cecilia then got pregnant with her ex’s, Mathew’s, daughter she watched as Max made it into F1, she was jealous yes, she wanted to race to reach her dreams, she wanted to be the first F1 female champion. 

“What do you want to do?” Her dad asked her as he watched his daughter hold his granddaughter. He never expected to have his little girl as a mother this young, her ex signing all his rights away before they baby was even born, leaving the father's name on the birth certificate empty. A single mother at the age of 18.

“Whatever you decide, we’ll support you.” Her mum told her holding her hand, her girl just gave birth after a long pregnancy, she looked tired but content. 

“I want to keep her.” She whispered looking at her girl, she had wisps of blonde hair, the same hair Cecilia and her father shared. Already looking like her, she whipped her tears away and looked up at her parents. “And I want to race.”

“It’s going to be hard.” Her dad warned her, she needed to know the challenges facing her, if she decided to do that then it’s going to be one of the hardest things she ever did. 

“I know, but I want to do it for her, I want her to know that she can achieve all her dreams, I want her to proudly say that I’m her mum, to never feel like any less because her dad isn’t in the picture, I want to do it for her.”

“And you will, we’ll work it out and help you as much as you need.” Her mum kissed her forehead and pushed her hair out of her face, her lovely daughter. Her sweet and strong daughter. 

Once Cecilia was given the green light by her doctors, she was back on track and in gyms. Her family’s home gym was upgraded, she had everything she needed there. The only time the girl used her uncle’s connections was when he helped her get back into competitions, getting into F2 was easy once she showcased her abilities that improved in her time off. Mclaren’s junior team snatched her up and she drove for them for a year before she was set as the reserve driver for them in 2018, she raced for the team in a free practice in the Germany, a track she hadn’t drove in her carrier, the woman was on the sim everytime she could as she prepared for the race, she wanted to impress not only Mclaren who had her on yearly contracts for now, but also everyone else, women belonged in the motorsport and she’s going to show it. She wants more skilled females racing, she wants her daughter and all the young girls growing up to see girls like them racing and winning. 

In 2019 she had her seat, driving for the first time in an F1 car that was made for her. Making it as the first female F1 driver since the 90s. Getting a place is one thing, keeping it is another thing, all the other females before couldn’t keep their seats for long but she planned to stay racing no matter what. 

When it was announced you better believe it turned into a media circus. The female had gone through grilling PR and media training, going through every question she could’ve been asked. She’s ready to face the fire.

The season kicked off in Australia, once the media saw the Mclaren making its way to the park at the entrance they crowded the area, wanting to get a glimpse of the female driver or even her teammate. Mclaren is doing a lot of unseen things with two new drivers this year. When Cecilia got out of the car she was given for the week, she smiled at the cameras, she was sporting Mclaren merch with a pair of blue jeans, wanting to be as neutral as she could until the media got used to her, if she wore any of her clothes the team speculated that they’ll focus on that and take away from her abilities. 

It’s media day and she had a lot of interviews to go through, making her way to the entrance. One of Mclaren’s press officers walked with her, there weren't that many fans of her around so she only signed a few things before she made it inside. Going to the paddocks where there was a quick meeting with her and Lando before they start their media duties.

Standing a little to the side she waited for the drivers doing the interview to finish before the new batch did theirs, her and Lando were split up for this section, thankfully she saw Charles coming her way, they both grinned when they saw each other, hugging the other tightly when he made it to her.

“Mon Dieu, tu m'as manqué.” She said in French, they pulled back Charles’ dimple evident on his face. (Oh god I missed you)

“Tu m'as manqué aussi, je suis si heureuse que tu sois là.” Charles replied to her they stood talking in French, Checo and Daniel walked in too they heard the pair talking in French they couldn't keep up with them so they left them talking after they greeted each other, the last to join is Max. (I missed you too, I'm so happy you’re here.)

When he saw her standing there he had to take her in, they’re no longer the teenagers they were when they used to Kart, gone the baby faced Cecilia and in her place stood a grown woman, hair longer and light makeup on her face, her hair loose, he only evers saw her in braids growing up.

It’s been years since Max saw Cecilia last, he knew she was the reserve driver for Mclaren, everyone knew, but they never ran into each other, both lived in Monaco but he never ran into her there either. He knew she’d make it into F1, it took her longer than he thought but she made it. His childhood rival made it into F1 to be one of his rivals, he can’t wait to race her on track once again.

There it is again, his heart speeding up, his eyes coming back to her every few seconds. He thought he grew out of his feelings for her, but evidently not. Once again she’s standing with Charles speaking in french his french isn't a match for the Monégasques. When Cecilia took her eyes off her best friend’s they fell onto the dutch driver.

“Max.” She called for him, he looked from Daniel to her, that smile she had when she was younger, he remembers the last time they talked and how rude he was to her, but that was years ago, a lifetime ago it seemed. “I haven’t seen you in years.”

They didn’t hug, like her and Charles, but her smile was enough for him. Cecilia couldn’t help but take him in too, she’s seen him on TV of course but the real thing is always different. She wonders how she hasn’t run into him before.

“Yeah, last time I saw you, you were almost as tall as I was.” Rolling her eyes at his joke, she’s taken her height from her mother, her father’s side of the family were all tall, leaving her the shortest of the bunch, she wasn’t that short but she always looked short next to her family members, she’s 165 not that short but whatever.

“Wow Verstappen, not all of us are born to be giants.” She joked back. “I’m not even that short, I’m average.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“You know Max is right.” Charles said with a teasing smile.

“Come on, not you too.” Cecilia groans and glares at the due. 

“It’s the truth, Cece.” Charles said and leaned down a little to be the same height as her mocking her height, she huffed and exaggerated rolling her eyes. The men laughed at her antics, she crossed her arms and walked to the two other drivers.

“I feel bullied, I’ll go talk with the nicer drivers.” She shook her head as she heard them laugh at her, her hair swinging left and right, they knew she was only joking with them. She could always take a joke.

Complaining to Daniel and Checo about the boys, they patted her back in comfort. A minute later they took their places on the sofa in front of the journalists. 

Cecilia got nervous once her feet hit the elevated platform, she’s been through all questions that could be asked, she’s trained until she could answer without a moment of hesitation. So why is it that the opposite happened, why is it that no one thought that the male filled room would agree to ignore her. They were all just too happy to take pictures of her walking into the circuit. It showed what they thought of her, she didn’t belong here, they didn't want her here, she’s only good to look at, a replacement for grid girls. The poor press officer tried to get people to ask her anything but they just ignored him. She had long since just leaned back and placed her microphone beside her, she was annoyed but she tried to act as if she wasn’t bothered. Was it working? Not 100%, people would debate whether she was bothered or not. They don’t know her well enough to go back for past experiences. 

“Cecilia, what are you looking forward to this year?” Charles asked once he answered the same question, he turned to look at the female next to him, it wasn’t hard to understand what journalists were doing. Picking up her microphone.

“I’m mostly looking forward to showing everyone what I can do.” She looked at Charles before her eyes met the main camera, looking straight on, no jokes. “I’m going to prove to everyone that women belong in F1.” She smiled then and looked at Charles. “But mainly I’m looking forward to beating you and Max like I used to do when we were young.”

This did it, both men started talking at the same time making her smile. She wasn’t asked any more questions but she didn’t mind after that, her and Charles were talking to each other when he wasn’t asked anything. She nodded along with some answers. After what felt like forever they were done. Walking out of the room she pressed the Mclaren hat on her head, an arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“Show them what you’ve got, Cece.” Daniel said to the younger female, he hated how underrated she is and people already looked down on her. People were acting like they’ve never seen her drive, F2 was filmed and aired, she drove in a FP last year, and did well, not to say how good she did in testing. 

“Planning on it.” Cecilia said with a grin, how real it is, she couldn't tell you. 

Free practice, she didn't give her all, the team planned for her to surprise everyone on qualifying day. She was seen with Sebastian talking, the man was talking with her, giving her advice not about the race but about the media. He told her how the media can go from portraying you as a villain to a hero in a few seconds, telling her that once she gets in the car she should forget all of them and just focus on driving, the german driver had seen her drive before with his own eyes, he knows how good she can be. 

When Lewis joined them, Cecilia couldn’t look him in the eye. He’d seen her last year, and they’ve never talked about it, he never asked and no news came out, but she was still scared. Plus, she looked up to him, always admired him. 

“You were a badass on Media day.” Lewis said to the female, he knew slightly of what she was going through, F1 isn’t known for its diversity, while she had the money, he had his gender, both came into the sport at a disadvantage and Lewis knew she has big potential, Seb talked to him about her before, making him watch her races before. Hearing his words made Cecilia look at him, his smile made her smile as well, a look of understanding passing them. 

Getting P9 in qualifying wasn’t bad for a rookie, on their first drive. Her team is proud of her place, knowing that tomorrow she’ll start at a good position to do even better. Even if she didn’t finish P9 then that’s some points won in her first race.

Cecilia planned to do better, if not for the helmet’s visor then people would see how the look in her eyes change the moment she starts a race. Gone is the smiley girl and in her place a woman on a mission. 

At the first corner she went up to P7, her team encouraging her to keep the pace. Drivers know each other’s techniques and how to deal with them, but the new ones are always full of surprises, and Cecilia is indeed a surprise. The female is a skilled driver, no questions asked. Going up another position, she couldn't overtake Charles but she got the fastest lap, finishing at a strong P6 winning 9 points for Mclaren.

She may have not gained a podium but her team were shouting down the radio how happy they were.

Later that day Cecilia got a text from an unknown number, she was in her driver’s room, going over the race analysing every minute. A habit that she got, it’s one of the ways she got better, after a race she’d sit down, watch and analyse and try to learn from it and then never think about it again. She could tell from the number that it’s a Monaco based number.

Unknown number 

Hey, I got your number from Charles, hope it;s okay.

Cecilia H.

Who is this?

Unknown number

Its Max

Verstappen 

Cecilia H.

It’s okay

What's up?

Max

Lando said you’re still at the circuit?

Cecilia H.

Yeah, are you still here?

Max

Yes, mind if we meet up? 

Cecilia H.

Sure give me a minute and i’ll be outside Mclaren

Max

Okay 👍

Closing the laptop she had on, still in her team kit with the cap and all, she walked out holding her packbag deciding to just leave after her talk with Max. Max was already waiting for her. The sun was almost down, only a few stragglers still there, all the media and fans already left. 

“Maxy!” Cecilia cheekily called for the man, he turned to look at her, he looked like was about to scold his younger sibling or something, making her smile even more.

“Don’t ever call me that again.” 

“Sure whatever you say, Maxy.” Cecilia teased him again, this version of Max is her favourite, the one who could joke and take a teasing. Definitely better than younger Max.

“I take it back, I’m leaving.” He turned to walk away before Cecilia held his bicep to stop him.

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry, what do you want?” She asked him quickly, he gave her a smile showing her that he knows she’d just joking. Thinking about what he wanted to say kind of made him shy, his cheeks were dusted with a pink glow and he rubbed the back of his neck for a moment. “Come on, it can't be that bad.”

“It’s not, I’m just embarrassed.” His voice dropped when he said embarrassed, just admitting that he’s embarrassed made him even more embarrassed. “You know the last time we talked…”

“Yesterday?” She asked him, frowning, trying to recall what happened yesterday, admittingly so much has happened. Maybe she said something rude without noticing or something, but nothing was coming to her mind.

“No, no when we were young, I wanted to apologise.” He said and decided to just get out and get it over with. “When you just wanted to congratulate me and I called you stupid and weird, I'm sorry about that, I didn't honestly mean it, not then and not now.”

“You scared me for a second there Max, I thought I said something.” Cecilia adjusted her hat so it won't cover her eyes as much so she’d be able to look at Max without raising her head that much. “I honestly forgot about it, we were kids, a lot of things happened since then, and you kind of forget about those small instances.”

“Still I felt the need to say I’m sorry.” Max was glad she was taking it lightly, he knew that she most likely would she hadn't held it over his head, or acted coldly towards him when they met again. “So what are you still doing here?”

“We had a post race meeting.” 

“Lando left over an hour ago.” Max frowned; they both had their things and were slowly walking to the direction of the parking lot.

“Well, it’s just a little habit I developed. After a race I would watch the race and see where I went wrong, how I can improve and what the others, who did better than me are doing.” Max nodded to her simple explanation, that alone proved to all those haters online and misogynistic journalists who refused to ask her anything. On Mclaren’s promos and any pictures of the girl, it had a copious amount of hate under it, it’s baffling to see. 

“You did great today.” Max commented and even though she disagreed she took the complement. Nothing much was said the rest of the way, and they split up going to their cars, and driving to different hotels. 

Cecilia could only think about how much Max has changed, no longer the cold boy she met before. Yes on track he is the same, wouldn't want to piss him off on track but the man in a race wasn’t the same as he was talking to her now. And he wasn't bad to look at either.

Her phone rang, her mum’s picture popped up, answering the phone while she had it connected to the car, her daughter’s voice greeted her. Her little three year old voice met her ears, making her smile.

Next ->

[unfortunately-obsessed]

Gonna strangle (affectionately) @bruciemilf one day but that's okay

Anyway I'm just knees-deep into this one particular scene and it's her fault. Just set the scene with me, hold my hand–

Martha went into labor for what feels like days ago already. Her screams are rhythmic, booming through the halls of Wayne Manor– why did she insist on a house birth?

Why did he let her?

He's a fool and she always is going to get what she wants from him. Now the air suffocates, heavy with an oppressive tension

Agatha rode off to the sunset with bottle of cognac– Jacob is locked outside with a look that can put a man through concrete

The truth is that Thomas could care less about what is happening in the world

Martha can't breath. What she does is ragged, uneven, fast and can't be called breathing

Thomas listens it, her chest heaving loudly, the begging in russian– for the first time in years, he doesn't know what to do

Pain twists in his throat, growing and throbbing

There's so much blood. Crumpled white sheets unsalvageable with crimson, eyes with dark circles beneath

He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what do to do–

His feet heavy like lead, kneeled by Martha's side and praying like momma taught him to–

Gods. Martha is pale. Squirming. Panting, gasping, crying. Coated in sweat, blood and other much less dignified body fluids

All he can do is let her hold his hand numb, let the ears ring with her screams

Her voice wobbles, weakens, and pleads in russian, please, it hurts. Make it stop. Incessantly, and every time his chest squeezes more, pounding like he will throw up his own heart

"Shh, it's okay, dove," he whispers to her hair, pointedly not looking at the blood. "It's going to be okay."

He's not sure. Because he is a doctor and he knows what this hollow silence from Leslie means–

And, gods, how he can love a thing that is causing so much pain to Martha?

Thomas stammers. Everybody said the love is natural; it comes gradually.

Doctors spend an awful amount of time with death

Not the time to think about that

Only that the annoying voice at the back of his head hammers his forehead with a icepick

How comes his heart bubbles with acid, contracts painfully everytime Martha sobs? How come he can't not resent this baby–?

Until her hands leaves his and Martha moves from pure adrenaline onto sitting in her knees to take matters into her own hands, Thomas hands try to cling to her shoulders or stop her no wait don't that or do something but– Bloody thing and bloody hands and infinite red;

And a second cry tores the world with anger and furious tears.

Thomas Junior is born a healthy 9lbs, a glob of red bare flesh, covered in amniotic fluid, mad at the world for being born

Martha's holds her son with all the care and love in the world, hair plastered on her forehead. Smiles ruefully. "He's perfect."

TJ is born looking like a turnip

And Thomas feels a whole lot of nothing

[stargazer-sims]

In The City of Love

Belle: Excuse me!

Belle: Hello, parents! Is that necessary?

Davian: As a matter of fact, it was.

Félix: We are in the City of Love, after all.

Belle: Yeah, City of Love, not city of lust.

Davian: Hey! How do you know what lust is?

Belle: You and Félix are my parents. Do you think you really need to ask that?

Davian: No, seriously.

Belle: I'm ten years old and I know how to read at a university level. I find out stuff. Plus, you should visit the trailer park sometime. You can learn a lot, hanging out with Dylan and Nadim.

Davian: No thanks. I had enough of the Willow Creek trailer park when I was a kid. And now I'm not sure I want you visiting Junior any more when he's over there with Dylan and his boy toy.

Belle: *giggling* Boy toy.

Félix: We can discuss all of this when we're back at home.

Davian: Right. This trip is supposed to be all about fun.

Belle: And minimal embarrassing public displays of affection.

Félix: Belle, the last time Davian and I were here was when we were expecting you. We have a lot of nostalgia for this place. We'll try to restrain ourselves, but a few public displays of affection may be inevitable.

Belle: I thought you went to Tartosa while you were expecting me.

Davian: We did, at Christmas, but we came here in February. I got a contract offer that I couldn’t turn down, and Félix didn’t want me to leave him, so…

Belle: But, my birthday is in March. You must've been like, super pregnant or... whatever it's called when you have a science baby. It couldn't have been much fun to be here.

Félix: I had a few good days, although I'll admit it would've been more fun if I hadn't been so tired and uncomfortable. I'd say 'super pregnant' is an accurate description.

Davian: So much so, he actually needed a note from a doctor to say it was okay for him to travel.

Belle: Really?

Félix: We were here during the week of Valentine's Day, and you weren't supposed to be born until the eighteenth of March. We thought there'd be plenty of time between our trip and the date my surgery was scheduled for.

Davian: Except there wasn't. We were home for... what? Maybe less than a week before you started having problems?

Félix: Which were entirely my own fault, in retrospect.

Davian: You weren't going wild at the love hotel by yourself, you know, and we weren't exactly taking it easy when we got home either. I'd say it was partly my fault too.

Belle: Eww! Love hotel!

Félix: The important thing is, we got home safely and it all worked out in the end. We may have had you a little earlier than we anticipated, Belle, but I promise nobody was complaining.

Davian: The moment I saw you, I said to myself 'that is a princess'.

Félix: He did, honestly. The first words out of his mouth when he saw you were, 'our princess is here'.

Belle: I'd rather be an archaeologist than a princess.

Félix: We know, but you'll always be a princess to us. Besides, princess and archaeologist aren't mutually exclusive.

Davian: We're going to make this trip as much about you as it is about us, okay? We want you to have a fun time and learn a lot. Félix and I have some memories to revisit here, but we want to make a bunch of new ones with you, too.

Belle: I don't mind if you want to revisit old memories or whatever, but can you promise me one thing?

Davian: What is it?

Belle: No going to the love hotel, okay?

Davian: And leave you alone at our rental? I promise that's totally not going to happen. You don't have to worry.

Belle: Good.

Félix: Speaking of the rental, we should check the address and see if we can find it before dark. If it's not too far, I think it'd be nice to walk there.

Davian: Sounds good, and if it is far away, maybe we can hail one of those pink taxis.

Belle: Ooh pink taxis? Even if we can walk to the rental, we have to ride in a pink taxi at least once before we go home.

____________

BONUS: Here is their rental house!

[abbatoirablaze]

Locked Up Master List

This series is complete! ✔️

Working in a prison is hard. The only thing that could possibly be any harder would be to be a woman working in the prison. But that's the reality for the new prison shrink, the junior doctor in the medical ward, and one of the correctional officers.

They're surrounded by some of the worst men in the country, working in the federal prison.

There are the mafioso heads, James Buchanan Barnes and Steve Rogers. Former military who turned back to the family business once they got through their contracts. Only to get a reputation of disposing of bodies as long as their rap sheets. And while these two one-time best friends manage to be civil enough inside the walls, Barnes has already promised to repay Rogers for taking his arm before their trial.

But they're just the tip of the iceberg. There are far more dangerous men in the prison. Like Robert Pronge a paranoid schizophrenic who was a hitman for nearly ten years.

Or the suave, cannibalistic serial killer, Doctor Brendan Steven Kemp.

Or the eccentric billionaire playboy who murdered his grandfather for the fortune, Ransom Drysdale.

But sometimes it's not the ones who appear the most dangerous that have the most pull in the prison. It might just be the quiet and calm Curtis Everett.

Or even the warden, a certain sheriff that managed to campaign his way all the way up to the coveted chair.

There are far too many dangerous things lurking around the corridors of the prison. And unfortunately these women are Locked Up with them every single day.

This is going to be a dark series. Chapters will have individual tags, but this will include: noncon relationships, rape, blackmail, murder, violence, and more.

The Shrink

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 -The Riot

Chapter 11-The Riot

Chapter 14-Two Weeks Later

Chapter 18-Starting Over Part 2

The Junior Doctor

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7 -The Riot

Chapter 12-The Riot

Chapter 15-Starting Over

The Correctional Officer

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10-The Riot

Chapter 13-The Riot

Chapter 16-After The Riots

Chapter 17-A Lasting Legacy

[yeollie-plz]

All Too Well

Preoutbreak! Joel x F! Reader

Synopsis: You met Joel your junior year of college. You had been so focused on your schooling until that fateful night. You were so young, so naïve. He was only a year older but it felt like he knew it all.

Genre: angst! so so angsty its insane

Warnings: break up, fighting, kissing, Y/N insert, pregnancy, labor and contractions, death, drinking (also underage drinking), drunk people, mentions of virginity and losing it, mentions of sex but no sex scenes, hospitals, doctor talk and mentions of medical complications, funerals

Gif credits to owners!

A/N: So I don't usually like song based fanfics but I had an idea and I ran with it. Tbh after I wrote it, I fell in love with it, hopefully you do too! Also! It is obviously the ten minute Taylor's version!

Oh, your sweet disposition and my wide-eyed gaze

It was right before your 21st birthday, you had been dragged by your friend Layla to a party at some sorority house. You didn't want to be there, but she insisted.

So now you were standing in the kitchen with a beer you hadn't even sipped and no Layla in sight. Your only company was the people that would stumble in to fill their cups and not utter a word. That was until Joel walked in. He had this air to him, he was calm and collected, and you could tell there was a kindness in his eyes.

He noticed you almost immediately and started a conversation. He told you how his brother dragged him here and you marveled at the sameness of your situations.

You two talked the whole night, neither one of you drinking. It comforted you that he was also sober.

It was almost one in the morning when Layla found you again. She was clearly wasted and you rolled your eyes.

"I should probably take her home." You told Joel.

Grabbing Layla to help her walk, you made your way out of the kitchen. Before you could leave he lightly grabbed your arm.

"Wait, can I get your number? I wanted to know if maybe we could get some coffee sometime?" You stared at him with shock. You had enjoyed the conversation but you didn't know he felt that way.

"Uh, yeah sure." You quickly grabbed a pen and random receipt from your bag. Jotting your number on it, you handed it to Joel with a smile.

He returned the smile and helped you and your friend to the car. You watched him in your rearview as you drove off, smiling to yourself.

'Cause there we are again on that little town street

You almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me

Wind in my hair, I was there

A few months and a few dates later, you and Joel had become official. You had never felt more like yourself. It was crazy to say a man had done that to you but you couldn't deny the facts. Even your school work had improved!

Your favorite nights were the nights you and Joel would just drive around. The two of you would drive around the town, every time you hit a red light he would look over at you with those soft eyes of his.

You did a lot of driving and he did a lot of staring. You would drive around and just talk about anything and everything. It was so simple, yet so perfect.

You taught me 'bout your past thinkin' your future was me

He told you everything about himself on those drives. How he grew up, his life with his family, even about his petty little fights with Tommy when they were younger.

It made you happy that he trusted you with every part of him. So, you told him all about you in return. You wanted all of him and gave all you back.

And I was thinkin' on the drive down: Any time now

He's gonna say it's love

You never called it what it was

You don't know when it happened but one day you woke and realized you were in love with Joel.

You wanted to scream out into the universe how much you loved this man. But it never felt like the right time.

A part of you wanted him to say it first. But no matter how many times he stared at you with those eyes, he never did.

'Cause there we are again in the middle of the night

We're dancin' 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light

Down the stairs, I was there

You were taking a nap at Joel's house one day when you were awoken to the sound of music downstairs. It was an old song you didn't recognize. Following the sound through the house, you found Joel gliding around the linoleum of the kitchen. You let out a laugh which stopped him in his tracks.

He met your eyes with that look, the look that made you melt. The look you knew all too well. He offered his hand to you. Gladly, you took it. You two danced for the rest of the song.

He pulled you close as it faded away, ghosting a kiss on your lips. That was the night he took your virginity. There was no good reason you had waited, you just had. But it felt right to lose it to him. He felt right.

And there we are again when nobody had to know

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath

Sacred prayer and we'd swear

It became the norm, you two would drive around and talk and end up at his place between the sheets. It never made you feel dirty, it made you feel loved.

But it was the lack of actual dates or him being uninterested in hanging out with your friends that made you start to pull away.

It wasn't until one night when Tommy stopped by unannounced to Joel's and he didn't even know who you were. You drove home crying that night.

Joel found you the next day with flowers in his hands, apologizing over and over again. He made an excuse of not wanting Tommy to know about his private life and how he hadn't found the right time.

He swore he told Tommy everything that night and how he would get the three of you together soon. You took him at his word and you two ended up in the sheets once again.

Except this time it felt different.

Well, maybe we got lost in translation

Maybe I asked for too much

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up

Runnin' scared, I was there

You decided you weren't going to just be compliant anymore. You were human and you needed, no you deserved more!

You brought it up one night and it became a huge fight. Screaming and crying, you two broke up.

You hadn't seen or talked to him for two months until those blue lines showed up on the pregnancy test.

And you called me up again just to break me like a promise

So casually cruel in the name of bein' honest

You called him after crying all night. He needed to know that you were pregnant with his child.

Joel almost let it go to voicemail, but he finally answered. But when he did, he wouldn't even let you speak. He just muttered an, "I'm busy." and hung up.

You cried all night for the second night in a row.

But then he watched me watch the front door all night

Willin' you to come

And he said: It's supposed to be fun turning 21

A week later and it was your 21st birthday. You decided to spend it with your parents since you knew if you spent it was Layla she would force you to drink. With your newly found condition, that was not possible.

All day and night you stayed in your room, not even wanting to eat. All you wanted to do was tell Joel. You hadn't even told your parents yet.

You wanted to keep the baby but you couldn't do it alone. At least you didn't want to do it alone.

It wasn't until your dad came to your room to try and coax you out, that you finally broke down and told them everything.

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it

I'd like to be my old self again

But I'm still tryin' to find it

After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own

A few more months went by and you were starting to show. You hadn't tried to make anymore attempts to contact Joel in a while. You decided to focus on yourself and the life you were growing inside of you. Whom, you found out at your last scan, was a girl.

You were out on night with Layla when you saw Tommy out on a date with some girl. Neither him nor Joel would've found out if it weren't for that night.

He saw you instantly and made his way over. He casually stroke up conversation, it felt more like a formality than anything.

You nervously swiped your hand across the table, knocking your fork to the floor. All eyes fell upon it.

"Oh, don't worry I'll get it." Tommy said as he knelt down.

As his hands gripped your fallen fork, his gaze began to move upward to your eyes but stopped at your swollen stomach. You cursed yourself for wearing something so tight tonight.

You gulped, letting his name fall past your lips. He stood back up and tried to wipe the shock from his face.

"Is that? Is Joel the..." His question trailed off, but you nodded still, knowing what he was asking.

"Y/N, why haven't you told him? He's been besides himself since the breakup."

You shook your head, "I tried, he just hung up on me."

Tommy put his hand on your shoulder.

"You need to tell him. He'll be happy, I promise."

You sighed and nodded your head solemnly. You knew you had to tell him, it was just so hard.

You went home that night and pulled out the flannel he had left at your place. You slept in it that night, his smell lulling you to sleep. Tomorrow was the day you would finally tell him.

Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known

It was rare, I was there

The next afternoon you knocked on Joel's door. It was cold out, so you had bundled up a little more. Yet, there was still no hiding it.

His look of shock at your appearance was nothing compared to the look he made when saw your pregnant form.

He started to say something but you cut him off.

"Joel, just listen. I wanted to tell you, I tried but you kept hanging up on me and eventually I just kind of gave up. I never wanted to hide it from you. I never wanted to raise the baby without you but you had given me no choice. I saw Tommy last night and he said things that made me realize I needed to try again. So here I am."

There was a long silence between the two of you.

"Thank you." he finally uttered out.

"For?" You looked up at him, trying to read his face. All you were met with were those eyes you had grown to love.

"Everything. Showing me how to love. Giving me the greatest gift I could ever receive...for coming back." He reached out and touched your stomach. His hands moved slowly to your hips, pulling you towards him.

Leaning his forehead against yours, he finally said those three words you had waited so long to hear.

"I love you."

That's when you felt a raindrop fall on the top of your head. Both of your eyes met the sky to face the falling rain.

"It's raining." You said breathlessly.

"I'm not sure if that's a good sign or not." Joel said with a chuckle.

"I don't think it is, but I'm sure we can change that. I love you too."

He smiled and kissed you.

And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue?

Just between us, did the love affair maim you too?

'Cause in this city's barren cold

I still remember the first fall of snow

And how it glistened as it fell

You were now nine months along. You had moved in with Joel and even set up a nursery for your baby girl. Joel surprised you by painting her room purple, your favorite color. He had become that guy you had fallen in love with again and you couldn't be happier.

It was an even colder night when you woke up with a start. A shooting pain going through your spine. Shaking Joel awake, telling him you were sure you had just had a contraction.

He rushed around the house in a flurry, your eyes just following him around. He would've been making you dizzy if it weren't for the crippling moments of pain you kept feeling.

You yelled his name as another contraction hit.

"Joel, we have to go." He finally looked at you, doubled over in pain. He rushed over and tried to rub your back.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry darlin', I was so busy trying to get everything ready that I forgot how much pain you were in."

"It's fine, we just should go now before I have the baby in our living room. You can bring stuff to the hospital later."

"You're right. Let me help you to the car, baby."

Hours later and you were still having contractions but you were not getting any more dilated than before. The doctor came in to tell you they needed to do a C-section.

"A C-section? What do you mean? She can't give birth naturally?" Joel asked, confused. He seemed a little concerned as well.

"Well the baby just isn't moving along as much as we would like. So for both the baby and the mother's benefit we should do the Caesarean."

"it's fine, Joel, It's just a few cuts. We will be back to you in no time. Both of us." Joel looked at you and then back to the doctor for conformation, who nodded.

"Fine, but take care of her." Joel gave in, slumping down into his chair.

"Of course sir."

They took you away to surgery. Too long ago now for Joel's taste. Time was moving too slowly and Joel was losing it. Tommy had shown up about 30 minutes ago. He had been trying to calm Joel's worry this whole time.

The doctor finally came their way.

"Y/N Y/LN's family?"

Tommy and Joel nodded.

"The baby is perfectly healthy, congratulations you have a little girl. But, unfortunately, Miss Y/L/N began to hemorrhage as I was trying to sew her up. She lost a lot of blood and we were unable to find the source of the bleeding in time. She flatlined on the table and we were unable to revive her. I'm so sorry."

Joel just blinked at the doctor, it took him a minute to process the news. Then it hit him and he sunk down to his knees in the waiting room.

Tears began to fall from his eyes as the rain began to fall outside.

Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there

Down the stairs, I was there, I was there

Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there

It was rare, I was there, I was there

Joel didn't want to attend the funeral but Tommy made him, he said something about how the baby should be there.

He had named her Sarah. One night when you two were laying on the couch, watching a movie you had mentioned how much you liked the name. Joel made a mental note of it.

The three of them arrived at the funeral, Joel couldn't bring himself to talk to your parents. After their last interaction, there was no point. They had all but blamed Joel for your death. He even made Tommy bring Sarah over to them, knowing he couldn't do it himself. But they deserved to cuddle and love their granddaughter, after all it was the last part of you they had left.

As he watched the casket lower into the ground he remembered everything about you. The way you smiled, the way you laughed, the way you unconditionally loved him even after what he did to you.

Joel looked down to the baby in his arms. She looked so much like you. He promised himself he would protect her at all costs. He would protect her the way he couldn't protect you.

[idyllic-affections]

the contract's cycle.

summary. changsheng's contract is a cycle.

trigger & content warnings. angst angst and more angst on the side, mentions of death & chronic illness.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. angst, hurt/slight comfort. baizhu & reader. 0.7k words. they/them pronouns for reader. this post is an expansion of invisible disability? it's rather visible to me. this post contains spoilers for baizhu's story quest.

author's thoughts. i did baizhu's story quest (i am telling lies. i did not do it, i watched someone else do it on youtube. genshin burnout is REAL i swear). got fic inspo. wrote fic. this is a little messy but please spare me i wrote this on a whim at 10:30 at night HSKSHJFGFGD

baizhu, who does not want anyone else to fall victim to changsheng's contract, yet also does not want her to die as a consequence of having no host.

it takes time, but despite this, he eventually realizes that what he has with junior herbalist [name] is the virtually the same as an apprenticeship—it is the same as what he had with his master before him, and what his master had with his own master before him, and so on. baizhu only refused to label his relationship with [name] as such for fear of them becoming the next in line, should he fail to attain immortality.

he does not intend to fail, but he cannot deny that he may not be able to succeed, either.

he suddenly finds himself scared, because if he's become so close with them without even consciously realizing it... that means that something drew him in, that he is endeared with them like a parent would be to a child because they are undoubtedly very much like him—a selfless, gentle soul void of ill intent. that fact simply scares him. they're so young, too young. maybe they'll change as they get older. maybe they'll become less selfless and kind. maybe he should encourage them to be more selfish? perhaps that might change something?

(he is only fooling himself.)

[name] is a viable host for changsheng; she herself has confirmed it, albeit a little reluctantly, upon baizhu's request. "it is a matter of my host's natural temperament," she reminded, "and that does not change as someone gets older. you know this, baizhu."

baizhu is now terrified. his fear has increased tenfold, because they are already chronically ill. he was not necessarily so weak before taking on changsheng's contact; his current state is a consequence of transferring countless ailments onto his own body. if he is fated for an early death... archons, their death would be even earlier. his heart drops at the thought.

briefly, he wonders if his predecessors ever felt like this—did they, too, fear the deaths of their apprentices, or is it different in his case because of how young his is? is it different because, even though he hesitates to say it aloud, he thinks of them as his own child? or were all his predecessors the same way?

he doesn't realize it, but gradually, the liyuean doctor begins withdrawing from them.

[name] notices that baizhu seems to be engaging less with them, that he's less involved with them overall, and they worry about if they've somehow disappointed him. they become more fidgety and distressed during their work hours, always trying to understand what it is that they did wrong, and trying to amend it without even knowing what they did.

changsheng eventually exposes hers' and baizhu's shared secret because maybe she's seen a teacher and their student fall out and maybe she doesn't want to see it again. who knows? but baizhu sure as hell won't tell them, so she takes it upon herself to do so, and the doctor is helpless to stop her because she... is stubborn.

[name], though very worried, expresses little surprise once changsheng finishes her explanation. all they do is peer up with gentle sincerity directed mostly at baizhu. "changsheng isn't normal—no offense, changsheng, don't get mad—so... i somewhat figured that something like this was going on. it's not exactly uncommon in liyue. this is the nation of contracts, after all, but... why didn't you tell me sooner? are you worried that i would be her next contractee? is— is that why you're ignoring me lately?"

(changsheng forces baizhu to apologize to them for that. he didn't offer much resistance and was quick to console and reassure them.)

baizhu is now even more set on his quest than before, because he will not let another person fall victim to the contract's cycle, "fate" be damned. he will not let [name] fall victim to the contract's cycle.

([name] knows that deep down inside, if something ever happened to baizhu... they would take on changsheng's contract, because like all those before them, they do not want to see her die, and changsheng has, albeit begrudgingly, accepted that they are just like all their predecessors.

if there is a life in front of them that deserves to be saved, why shouldn't they do everything within their power to save it?)

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[witchofimber]

Hey, for @thethreebroomsticksfic Weasley Week I decided to write the most angsty shit possible for Molly Weasley. Below is a preview, rest of the work is on AO3.

Trigger Warnings: Postpartum depression (including intrusive thoughts about harm coming to a baby), complex family relationships, grief, surgery mention, smoking.

“When I became a mom, no one ever said, ‘Hey, you made a death today. You made your children’s deaths.’ Meanwhile, I could think of little else.” - Samantha Hunt 

Families have mythologies. There are stories that Molly’s children pass around like calling cards, touchstones. Ron stealing that car, Fred’s first word being “George” and George’s first word being “No.” The fact that Percy was the only baby born exactly on his due date, contractions starting right at five as if he’d politely waited for the end of business hours. How Ginny, Charlie and Bill came early, but Ron and the twins came late. How Charlie’s labour was only eight minutes, and Bill’s was nearly forty hours. As if the circumstances of birth would press into her children like wax. See? I knew who you’d be even then. I knew you right from the start. You were always going to be this person. 

Here’s something that she doesn’t tell her children: that for almost every second of those forty hours of labour, nineteen and terrified, she wanted to die. She begged for it. She begged for Arthur, for her brothers, for her mother. She begged the doctor to cut her open. Hour thirty-five, thrashing on the table - just cut it out! Cut it out cut it out get it out of me! 

If there’s a shape of his birth in Bill, it’s made of agony. 

---

When she thinks of those first few years of Bill, when she was still half a child and yet somehow a mother - 

Well, mostly she doesn’t think of them. There’s really no reason to, not anymore.

But if she were to - 

Arthur was working long hours. He had to, of course - junior ministry salaries weren’t meant to support a family. Overtime was the only thing that was keeping them fed. And he was such a good father when he was home. Not a word of complaint, not a hint that he was tired. Go to sleep, love, you need a nap. I’ll look after my little Bill. 

It was that possessive my that made Molly dig her fingernails into her palms. 

Oldest sons always belong to their fathers, don’t they? Arthur would bounce Bill on his knee and says he could be an auror, he could be minister, he could be a curse-breaker - all these grand futures he didn’t get to have himself, poured into the body of his son. 

Molly looked at Bill’s chubby face and thought he could be charging into the line of fire, he could be the target of an assassination, he could die alone on the floor of a dusty vault. She fed Bill in the kitchen and thought about all the knives around them, the kettle sitting full and hot like a taunt. She bathed him with her heart in her throat, barely blinking. She was constantly aware of all the things that could hurt him, including herself. After all, she didn’t love the baby. 

At forty-six, she knows now that this kind of obsessive fear was love - love done poorly, love swallowed by self-loathing, a conviction that Bill knew she wasn’t good enough for him. At twenty she would lie awake at night, thinking of all the things she’d done wrong and pinching the inside of her wrist. 

---

One week after the end of the war, and Ginny is the only child still in the house. Molly thought, automatically, that the whole brood would fly home to her. In the summer, when her children were still children, she would stand at the twilight doorway with a sonorous to her throat and watch them race across the meadows towards her, the kitchen windows their lighthouse across a sea of dark. Tall, rangy Bill herding Fred and George, Ron and Ginny chasing each other in squabbling circles, Percy with a mouth already full of complaints and accusations, Charlie loping slowly, always last. But Bill is with his own family now. Charlie is in Romania. Percy writes her fearful owls and avoids his father’s gaze. George is apparently drunk in the flats of various friends. Ron bounces between George and Harry, trying to watch over them, flooing back home to grab soup and hangover potion. So only Ginny - her much-loved girl, her longed-for daughter, her baby - is in the house, and that fact should not fill Molly with dread. 

Ginny has recently adopted a sort of omni-benevolent glow towards Molly, a tacit acknowledgement that she forgives her mother everything. Molly can’t be too angry about this. She did the same to her own mother. 

One night, passing the washing up silently between them, Molly says, “You know - dearest - if you were pregnant, I would be there for you.” 

“What? Mum, I’m not pregnant. I’m not even - no.” 

“I - good, that’s good, but - you know, whatever you need, whenever you need it. I’ll be there for you. I’ll never abandon you.” 

“Ok.” Ginny shoots her a half-amused glance under her eyelashes. “Is this you angling for grandbabies? Because, like, I’m pretty sure I’m last in the queue for that.” 

Some days Molly cannot remember why she ever wanted a daughter so desperately. It’s just another set of fears. 

---

Charlie appeared like a miracle or a Muggle magic trick. Step right up, see the lady step into the Ministry elevator! Watch her as the doors close - do you see her put her hand on her stomach? That faint frown? And now, on the ground floor the doors open and - ta dah! A baby! 

(And blood, of course, and two very shocked aurors. And Molly sitting half-naked on the floor of the lift, staring at Charlie in her arms. Too confused to be anything else. What are you doing here? she’d asked Charlie with her eyes, and he’d stared back - I don’t know, what am I doing here?) 

When Charlie was eight, they’d lost him. She remembers standing at the kitchen door, all her other children crowded around her, as she called his name over and over again. Thinking, stupidly, don’t let your voice crack, you’ll scare the children. Arthur and Bill had gone out with lanterns, searching down creeks and up dale, their voices getting further and further away until they disappeared under evening birdsong. And finally, at midnight, Charlie had emerged from the trees - right next to the house, he’d only been hiding in the branches. He must have heard her calling. 

She floocalls him at four, which is six for him. She knows the time difference by heart. It’s a thought that hasn’t left her since Charlie moved away. She’ll be doing the last of the washing up at ten, thinking about how Charlie is probably getting his last drink of the night in. She’ll roll over on a sleepless night to see it’s three am and know that thousands of miles and two hours away, Charlie is just beginning to get up. She is so used to Charlie’s hand on the clock pointing at work that it has become invisible. 

“How’s things?” says Charlie, no hello. 

“Good,” says Molly automatically, then - “Well. No.” 

“No, yeah. No.”

“How are the dragons?” 

Molly knows a lot about dragons now. She reads books on them when she has the time, asks Hermione questions, idly browses through Ron’s Care of Magical Creatures textbooks. She is aware, in a way that makes her prickle with guilt, that she does this so she has something to talk to Charlie about. 

“Good. Well, Andrei has this bonkers idea that he won’t let go of - there’s only one Welsh Green stud left in Eastern Europe, so he’s talking about trying to crossbreed…” 

He rattles on. Molly listens, nods, asks thoughtful questions. At the end, he says - “And… well… the political situation.” 

“Oh?”

“It’s complicated.”

“You could come back - ��� Home - “here.” 

Charlie snorts. “Oh, yeah, Britain. Very politically stable at the moment.”

“We could be together again. As a family.” She doesn’t say your family needs you. She has finally learnt, after years of mistakes, that that’s not a lever that will ever work on Charlie. “I could take care of you.” 

“I’m fine, Mum.” 

“I know, but darling - “

“I just - I need to be here, you know? Or I - I can’t be there. I can’t come back.” 

When Charlie had emerged from the trees age eight, looking cold and distant, she’d grabbed him by the shoulders and nearly shaken him with the force of her love. Where were you? What were you doing? Didn’t you hear me calling? 

I did, he said, I just didn’t want to come in. 

But why didn’t you come back?

He’d stared at her, a little blankly. I told you. I didn’t want to come in. 

Read the rest here

[hooked-on-elvis]

🥳 Happy Birthday to beautiful Jan Shepard! 🎂

Born Josephine Angela Sorbello on March 19, 1928, Jan is turning 96 years young today. ♥

Jan Shepard interviewed by Joe Krein (2007)

Joe: Can you tell me a little about yourself, where you were born and raised? Jan: I was born in a little town called Quakertown, Pennsylvania, in Bucks County. It’s about 40 miles north of Philadelphia. I had a wonderful time there growing up, it was a tiny little town and everybody knew everybody. You got to do everything when you were in high school. I was a cheerleader and a drum majorette. I was in drama. I loved growing up there.

(...)

Joe: Did you want to become an actress? Jan: Ever since I was in second grade I was Miss Cleanliness, in a way. I got up on that stage and something happened. I saw all those people and it made me want to do something nice. So I did two class plays. I did junior high and senior class plays as the leading lady. I did summer stock when I got out of high school. I did that for quite a while and that was great fun. Joe: So did you go to Hollywood and say “I want to be a star”? Jan: I went to New York first and I got a terrible cold. I had gotten a reference from Samson Raferson, who did a lot of plays. He lived in our area. He sent me to Sherill Crawford doing Brigadoon. So I went there and I could barely talk. You think to yourself once they see you that you would be in Broadway by the weekend. You just think that they are waiting for you. But she said go back home and do summer stock. Do as much as you can of that. It was one of those things that you are so eager and you had no clue as of how to become an actor. So I went back home and then I had a chance to visit some relatives in California. So I never went back to New York. Joe: So what studio did you sign up with? Jan: I did some things with 20th Century, but mostly I did television like ABC, CBS and then Paramount. So I was working all the time. The kids that were under contract with Paramount, they had a class picture taken, and I wasn’t in it because I was the only one working. Will never forget that. How I wish I was in that picture. Joe: You must see a lot of turn over, kids coming and then going home. Jan: Yeah. You know there is a lot of wonderful talent walking the street, and honestly it’s a matter of luck. Plus it helps with who you know. What helped me was I moved in with Amanda Blake from Gun Smoke. We shared an apartment and Ross Hunter had an apartment in the same building. I was working a regular job then. We would walk together in the morning to work. There was an agent that also lived in the building. I was out sunning myself one day and he came over and started talking. He said, “Do you need an agent?” I said yes. That’s how it all started. Quite by accident. Joe: You worked in television? Jan: About 500 episodes. I did so much television. I did so many pilots and series. One of my first series was with McDonald Carrie, who was Doctor Christian. I was a regular on that show. I did two soap operas. Day in Court and Clear Horizons. I did so many Westerns. Every show that was in the fifties and sixties, seventies. At least five hundred television shows.

(...)

Joe: Were you an Elvis fan? Jan: No (laughing). Joe: Don’t feel bad, a lot of people have said that to me. Jan: It was so funny because I was sitting with Dan Duriah. I was doing a two hour film. We were sitting on the set. I had the reporter in front of me and it said “ELVIS PRESLEY”. “What kind of a name is that?” He said, “I don’t know.” I said there’s some kid in the south called Elvis Presley. I said he’s never going to make it (laughing). That was the first time that I had ever heard of him. So I didn’t know who he was. I happened to like his voice. I liked his voice but I am not the kind of person who is adoring movie stars. There was maybe one or two that I adored or would like to work with, but I was never like those type of people. But once I met him, I just adored him. Joe: When did you find out that you were going to do an Elvis film? Jan: I was doing a play at Paramount, with Dolores Hart, who is my goddaughter. She is now a nun. Joe: Oh, yes, I know who she is. Jan: She used to be under contract with Hal Wallis. Dolores came up to me after work. She said, “Jan, there is a part in this movie I am going to do with Elvis Presley you would be perfect for. The part would be playing his sister.” I said, “Yeah, right, terrific.” I just let it go at that. But the next thing I know she calls me and says Hal Wallis wants to see you. “I’ve talked to him about you.” So I went up there. He said to me, “I would like you to make a test.” So they gave me the script. When I arrived at the studio, there was four other girls that were testing. I figured I would be the only one. I was in shock, I almost walked out. Peter Baldwin, who was playing the Elvis role, who was a friend of mine, he said, “Stay, stay. These other girls are no way better than you.” I was the last one to be tested. After I just went home and prayed that I would get this role. I got it!

Elvis, Jan and Dolores Hart on set during making of King Creole, 1958.

Joe: And this was for...? King Creole! That was Elvis’s favorite movie. Plus it’s the fans favorite movie. It’s also mine. Jan: Yes, it’s mine, too. But I have only seen two movies of his. I only saw them because I was in them. That’s nothing to do with Elvis. It’s just because I was working all the time. I was doing soap operas. Different scripts every day, learning new lines every day. You just don’t have the time to go out and see movies. I had no social life at all. If you do have five minutes on a weekend, you want to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joe: Can you tell me how you met Elvis? Jan: When you’re assigned a film role, you have to go to the doctor, because of the insurance company. They have to make sure you don’t have a bad heart, any of that nonsense. They made my appointment for me at the studio, so I was there and I had on a white shirt and these slacks my mother had made for me that were like wine coloured. I went in the office and I was waiting to be called in. In walks Elvis with two of his buddies. I looked at him and he looked at me and we started to laugh. His jacket was the identical material and colour of my slacks. He looked at me and he said, “Honey, I’m either going to have to give you my jacket or you’re going to have to give me your pants” (laughing). That was my first meeting with Elvis. Joe: Goodness. Jan: Girl scout’s honour. Joe: Did you get along with Elvis? Jan: Oh, wonderful. He said if he had a sister, he wished it would be me. We got along so great because we worked alone the two of us the whole first week of the show. I would come to work and I would find on the set a pair of earrings he put there for me that cost about ten cents that he had liberated from the set. I have a marvelous picture where we are waiting to perform and we were just sitting down at the dining room table. I handed him this jewelry and I said I can’t take these from you, Elvis, you know it’s too much. You’re the last of the big spenders. He is there laughing so hard and they snapped this picture of the two of us. It’s a fabulous picture of him. But he would do little things like that. And he would play music on his guitar. He would ask me what I wanted to hear. Elvis loved Danny Boy.

Joe: Did you ever date Elvis? Jan: No, I was married (laughing). Joe: Oh, sorry, I didn’t know that. Jan: No, I was married, honey. But the thing was: Dolores Hart gave me a surprise birthday party. All the kids from Paramount studio were there. It was a big surprise to me. I was there for about ten minutes and in walks Elvis with the boys. He had this huge stuffed tiger under his arm. He knew I loved cats, so he had this stuffed cat and he named it Danny Boy. He gave me this big box. For weeks I had been asking Elvis for pictures that I could give the kids in my neighborhood when they had heard I was doing a picture with him. They all pleaded for photos of him. So I would always ask him for pictures for the kids. “Come on, please, I need pictures.” So he hands me this box and I placed it off to the side. He said, “Oh, no, you need to open that now.” So I opened it and it was a movie camera with a light bar and film. He said, “Now you can take your pictures.” You know if Colonel Parker was there, he would not had allowed that.

Early 1958. Elvis and Jan during surprise birthday party to Jan Shepard.

Joe: Oh, you’re right. Jan: Dolores said the next day she ran into Elvis and she said, “I was so surprised that you came.” He said I had to come, “She’s my sister. I wouldn’t miss her birthday party” (laughing). I ran into him in the studio. He said to me, “I hear Elvis was at your birthday party.” “Yeah, he was”. He said, “You know he never goes anywhere, people go to him, he never goes to other people’s homes.” Joe: That’s very true. Jan: I said I think we bonded a little bit. Joe: Was Elvis a good actor? Jan: Wonderful! Oh, just marvelous! I will never forget. You know every person that sings is a good actor. Because they have the sense of timing, the sense of rhythm, a sense of what words mean. He was a brilliant actor because he didn’t need any advice. He knew automatically what to do and act, as the show was going on. I kept saying to him, “Oh, Elvis, for God sake, you’re doing such a great job.” So one day we went for lunch. We were sitting there at a table and in walks Marlon Brando. Elvis was sitting with his back towards him. There was a table right behind Elvis that was empty, so Brando saw Elvis as soon as he walked in. So Brando got into the chair right behind Elvis. I said to Elvis, “Marlon Brando is sitting behind you.” Elvis said, “Oh, my God” and his head sunk into his sandwich. I said, “Look, he wants to meet you, I saw him looking at you, just say hi to him.” Well, that’s exactly what happened. He got up and bumped his chair. Marlon stood up and the two of them shook hands. They did a little small talking. Elvis was very cool. Elvis then walked out of the café very cool. But the minute we got outside he leaped up. He couldn’t believe he met Marlon Brando. He was so excited, we just danced all the way back to the studio. Then one day after the show had been released, someone sent me the review of King Creole. The title was “Bourbon Street Brando.” I raced over to Paramount and I grabbed Elvis and I said, “Look at this.” I showed him the “Bourbon Street Brando”, he just couldn’t believe it. I said, “See, I told you, you were going to be great in this!” Joe, Elvis was!

Scene of King Creole, 1958. Elvis as Danny Fisher and Jan Shepard as Mimi Fisher, Danny's sister.

Joe: Now you did another movie with Elvis. Jan: Yes, Paradise Hawaiian Style

Note: In Paradise, Hawaiian Style (1966) Jan Shepard played Betty Kohana, wife of Danny Kohana played by actor James Shigeta who's a friend and eventual business partner of Elvis' character Rick Richards.

Joe: Can you tell me about that movie and how you got the part? Jan: I had gone over to Paramount to have lunch with Dolores Hart. She was getting a wardrobe fitting for some picture. I ran into Paul Mason. He said, “Hi”. He asked what was I doing there. He said, “Hey, we need a wife for Jimmie Sakita for a movie Elvis is doing. Would you be interested?” He said, “It’s not a huge part, but it’s a good part.” I said, “Yeah, ok.” He told me to go up and see Hal Wallis. “I will give him a call and tell him you’re coming.” So I went up there. Well, Hal Wallis’s office is full of art. He has originals of Remington’s and Chares Russell, all those wonderful western painters. I walked in and I said, “Oh, my God, you have a Remington!” I knew art because my husband is an artist. Hal Wallis was very impressed, he asked me if I wanted that role? Yeah, fine, that would be wonderful! That’s how I got the part. Joe: Now what did Elvis say when he saw you? Jan: Well, the minute he saw me he asked how was Dolores because now she has been a nun for the past year. And I said she was good, I’ve seen her, I’ve gone there. And Maria Cooper, Gary’s daughter and I were the godmothers for her when she went into the monastery. And I said, “I’ve been there and she’s doing great and she, you know, I said you know if they let me wear eyelash mascara, I’d go in that place and say it’s beautiful. She’s home. This is where she wants to be and he wanted to see if she was okay and how you were doing. You know, and I noticed he was not the Elvis that was the little teddy bear that would run across the stage and pick up and swing you around. He was not that anymore. Joe: He changed? Jan: He was never in his dressing room and you know King Creole. He is always out with a group and having fun and playing the guitar and, you know, just a lot of fun. And he went to his dressing room and it was closed and I noticed he was drinking a lot of water. He had lot of glasses of water and he was drinking. Also, there was an attitude that was so different. He was kind of jaded and at the movies, he and I knew Charlie Afura who did all his choreography. Charlie was showing him something on stage, some dance moves or something, and he was just looking at Charlie, like “Charlie, I’ve done this four or five times already. I know what you want,” because it was the same movie every time. Joe: Right. Jan: He was always doing the same movie and I know he was tired of it.

(...)

Joe: When was the last time you saw Elvis? Jan: I saw him in Las Vegas. We went to a Casers Palace and I was so disappointed because he was into the karate stuff and he was turning his back to the audience all the time. And I just wanted to just go up there and spank him, you know. Joe: Yeah. Jan: Because he was just not him. You know. I think that when his mom died, that was just a terrible blow and that if she had lived Elvis would still be alive today. Joe: Yeah. When you were working in the movies, did you have the chance to have one on one conversations? Jan: Oh, yeah, all the time. Especially on the Creole, but not as much on Paradise Hawaiian Style. Yeah, like on the weekend it had rained all weekend and on Monday morning when Elvis came into the makeup room and I said, “Well, what did you do this weekend?” “I was on the phone with my mom all day, I didn’t go anywhere.” He told me one time they were on the road and they stopped at a diner, this was in the fifties. This big guy came over to him and picked him up by his shirt. He said, “I don’t like you”. Elvis said, “What’s wrong?” “My wife carries your picture around in her wallet.” Elvis said, “Hey, sir, I’m sorry, but that has nothing to do with me. I’m sorry, she should do that.” He let Elvis down and they took off. He had so much of that we had to fake people out when Elvis left the studio. We would send out a limo, the fans figured Elvis was in it. But Elvis was getting shoved into a taxi in the back of the studio. Elvis would be laying on the floor. Elvis said, “I know they don’t mean to do it, but sometimes they hurt me. They grab at me, pull my hair”. They have scratched his eye while trying to get some of that beautiful black hair. “I’ve been hurt,” Elvis said. “That’s why I don’t go anywhere.” We had a lot of conversations. One time I said to Elvis, “Why don’t you record Danny Boy?” He loved that song because he would sing it to his mom. Elvis said, “They don’t want that. They won’t let me sing something like that.” It was so funny, one day Pat Boone came walking on the set. Elvis spotted him and he started singing April Love, just the way Pat would sing it. Pat just grinned from ear to ear, Pat then came over and they met. But he never had the chance to become apart of the young Hollywood scene, because he was afraid to go out with the other young people who were at the studio. If he went to go to a movie, he had to rent the whole theatre. You know, Elvis never had a dime on him, he would follow me to the apple machine. I said to him, “You want an apple, right?” “Yes, please” (laughing). He never had any money. Joe: I know that to be true all the way up to the seventies. His men would carry his money and his keys. When did you hear that Elvis had passed? Jan: I was sitting with a friend at her business. The phone rang and they asked if I was there. They asked me if I had the radio on or had been watching television. I said no, why? “Elvis died.” I just couldn’t talk. When I was able to talk, I said I was so angry at him. I was so angry I could not even cry. Because he was doing all the wrong things and he knew he was, damn it! I could see that when I went to see him in Vegas. I said to myself, “That’s not my Elvis.” Joe: But you know the man was the greatest entertainer of the 20th century. Jan: There will never be another like him. In the Creole days he was just a big teddy bear. I asked him one time, “Ok, Elvis, when did all this swinging your hips start? Why do you do that?” “I do it for fun, I know just when to break it off.” I used to watch the little negro boys in his town, how they would sit on the curbs and sing. And they would stand up and dance. He said that’s where he got that from. They would sing and move their hips.

(...)

Joe: Well, I would like to thank you for talking to me today. Jan: You’re welcome, Joe.

Phone interview with Jan Shepard, done by Joe Krein, on June 22, 2007. YOU CAN READ THE FULL INTERVIEW ON: ELVIS100PERCENT.COM

Early 1958. Home movie. Birthday party to Jan Shepard. ♡

[twenty-orange-balloons]

Okay, I've been seeing some ice skating AU's around lately and it inspired me to write something. Fair warning: it's not madam Yu friendly and mostly exposition and little dialogue. LWJ POV.

--

"Why don't you skate anymore?" Lan Wangji finally asked, three months after Wei Ying had finally returned to his life. Honestly, the words have been begging to be released as soon as Lan Wangji set eyes on Wei Ying again.

The other had disappeared four years ago, just before the final of the Junior Olympics for ice skating. It was a shock to everyone involved, the brilliant and charming skater that was a shoe in for getting gold, his performances always bringing emotional reactions out of his audience.

Lan Wangji can still remember when he performed a song called "In the mountains" a song about longing and remembrance of a love in the POV of a grieving man. It was supposedly composed by an ancestor of Lan Wangji's actually, which is how Wei Ying heard it the first time.

The movements and expressions Wei Ying was able to bring out on the ice would forever be stuck in Lan Wangji's mind. It's one of Wei Ying's best performances, according to both Lan Wangji and the internet.

But two days before the final of the juniors, Wei Ying pulled out. Nobody knew until the next day, when everyone got a message informing them of the change.

Lan Wangji remembers rushing to Wei Ying's hotel room, confusion and worry warring in his heart. It didn't matter how long he knocked on that door, Wei Ying never answered. He only learned later, after running down to the lobby to the reception, that Wei Ying had already left early the night before.

For four years, Lan Wangji had been searching for him, trying to figure out just why Wei Ying left. But all he had to go on was an angry Jiang Cheng and an unfamiliar stone faced Jiang Yanli. Neither would spill the answer.

Even his number had changed, and no matter how often Lan Wangji emailed him, he never replied.

Wei Ying completely disappeared from the world, taking Lan Wangji's heart right with him. So seeing him again, on that sunny Wednesday afternoon, looking healthy and happy, was both a relief and a hit to his heart.

Mostly though, Lan Wangji was just happy to have him back in his life. Yet the thought always remained, just what happened?

Wei Ying hummed, looking over the horizon, watching birds sail in and out of view.

They were currently at the top viewpoint of a mountain after hiking for nearly three hours. It was pretty empty, only a few people around, quiet and peaceful.

It was something they used to do together, in the off season. Neither of their families loved the idea of them risking a twisted ankle just to watch the sunrise. But they both enjoyed it too much to actually stop, even when Wei Ying left, Lan Wangji would find himself going on hikes.

Watching Wei Ying right now, Lan Wangji realized he didn't need to know, if Wei Ying wanted him to, he would tell him.

But just as he was about to apologize and retract his question, Wei Ying answered.

He spoke of his time with the Jiāngs, he told of how fierce and strict Madam Yu was during training, he let Lan Wangji in on the fact that Madam Yu rarely let him rest, made him train for hours and hours, pushing his body to the limit every time.

Until one night, Wei Ying's body finally had enough. Apparently, Wei Ying had been attempting a quad when his ankles gave out on the landing and he tripped, slamming his head into the ice.

He ended up going to the hospital, getting ten stitches and told in no uncertain terms, that he couldn't skate for at least a month. And even that was pushing it, according to his doctor.

Madam Yu was pissed. But Wei Ying later found out, she had been training Jiang Cheng to take over Wei Ying's choreography without telling either of them. As soon as she was able, she threw out his contract and told him he had to leave since he couldn't perform as his contract states he had to do in order to keep his place there, so he left.

It was a loophole Wei Ying had been unaware of, and one she utilized to its fullest. Jiang Yanli had not been pleased, according to Wei Ying, she had made a big fuss, arguing day and night with her mother, even Jiang Cheng tried to talk her out of it.

Lan Wangji couldn't believe the woman.

Taking advantage of a serious injury to throw out a teenager she didn't like. And the fact that the rest of the Jiāngs couldn't do anything about it because she was the major shareholder in the company –

It was despicable.

"She took my phone and canceled my room at the hotel. I didn't even need to pack since she hired people to do it, then took it out of my paycheck. She told me I wasn't allowed back at Lotus Pier or to see her children. She threatened to draw up a restraining order if I didn't listen. So I took what I could and left. I stayed with the Wen's for a few months, before getting a job as a tutor for music, then science too. Actually, I started volunteering as a substitute at a local elementary school."

Lan Wangji could just imagine how those lessons went. Wei Ying always had a way with kids that made Lan Wangji's heart race. He remembers catching Wei Ying helping out the younger skaters who would do homework in the waiting rooms, and the laughter and cries of gratitude that sounded afterwards.

Wei Ying shrugged "Honestly, I think I'm grateful it happened, not the way it did, and I definitely regret how I left everyone, you, with no explanation, but it gave me a chance to get myself together. To find out what I really want in life."

"And what's that?" Lan Wangji asked.

Wei Ying turned to look at him, the setting sun causing his face to glow, eyes bright and smile wide, he said, "This."

And then he kissed him.

[freifraufischer]

So you've come back to gymnastics since Tokyo because you are excited and French Gymnasitcs is on Fire and Everything is Terrible....

[This original post was written for Reddit to help catch people up on what was happening while they weren't paying attention]

Welcome to an overview of "Everything is not okay in France". Before I get into the details of what is happening in the French Gymnastics Federation (FFG) you should be aware that they are hardly the only French sports establishment gleefully lighting themselves on fire. In mid June the headquarters of the Paris organizing committee was raided by French Police as part of corruption investigations, the head of the French Olympic Committee has resigned after her predecessor announced he was filing a complaint about mismanagement of funds, the French National Assembly has started a commission to investigate abuse and corruption in French sports broadly ... oh and they still haven't signed the contracts for all the Paris Olympic venues including the Stade de France. If you want the lowlights of French Sports scandals this year @darthmelyanna posted a summary.

Specifically the FFG ... before Tokyo it was decided that to give the French team the best training environment all Paris hopefuls would need to move from their home gyms to centralized locations at Pôle Gym St-Etienne (in south central France) or INSEP in Paris. This is not the first time there has been a push to centralize French gymnastics and the last time it didn't go well either. There was a massive sexual abuse case at INSEP which was dropped because of the age of the suspect... so you know it's totally reasonable to trust the environment there.

Anyway... many of the most promising French gymnasts come from a club called Avoine Beaumont Gymnastique and their gymnasts did not want to move (either away from their family or their coaches with whom they saw success). According to the coaches at Avoine-Beaumont the centralization push is about the ambitions of national team staff wanting to take credit for successes at the home Olympics and there is a lot of circumstantial evidence to suggest this true. The Avoine-Beaumont coach had been offered a job at INSEP and was previously on the national team staff but when he did not take the job he was forbidden to travel with his gymnasts.

According to Carolann Héduit (a French national champion and a European medalist) the FFG called her weekly to pressure her to move--including while she was in Tokyo at the Olympics--and have told her that her national championships mean nothing and they even pulled her funding only restoring it after there was national press attention. She has described the psychological impact as heavy and her parents and coaches believe the French federation are attempting to break her.

Her team mate Kaylia Nemour was probably the most promising French junior of her generation. She also refused to move and after a surgery when her own doctor approved her return to training the French federation's doctor--without examining her--not only refused to allow her to return to competition, but also said that she could not return to training and initiated an abuse investigation into her coaches. He had the authority to refuse to allow her to compete, he did not have the authority to tell her she could not train. He tried to publicly say he never did that but Nemour's mother had the letter in writing and posted it on twitter. Facing the prospect of not being able to compete Nemour switched to Algeria but the FFG opposed the country change meaning she couldn't compete for a year. That would have prevented her from competing at this year's world championship and most of her best opportunities to qualify for Paris. This was only reversed at the intervention of the French Minister for Sport the literal week before the 2023 African Championships where she qualified for Worlds. She has a VERY good chance of winning a medal on bars in Paris. Yet another Avoine-Beaumont junior's family is voicing that they may also be looking at a country change...

All while this is going on Mélanie de Jesus dos Santos was given leave to train in the United States at WCC. No one is clear why she was given this exception. Some fans have speculated that it is because she is from Martinique which is in the Caribbean and she wants to be closer to her family... but it is neither cheaper nor faster to travel from Houston to Martinique then from Paris to Martinique. MDJDS has talked about how it takes basically 24 hours for her to travel from Martinique to basically anywhere and because Martinique is a French department there are direct flights from Paris and no such thing from Houston. As of this post it would cost between $690-730 to fly from Paris to Martinique and almost $1200 to fly from Houston to Martinique. MDJDS is also not been treated super well when she has gone home to compete. Her WCC coaches were not allowed to stay with her in the week before the Paris World Challenge Cup and when she showed up the French National Team staff decided they didn't like her technique on one of her releases and decided to retrain it. A week before competition. It did not go well. She had a generally good 2023 French Championship but the difference between her being allowed to train in the states while the Avoine-Beaumont gymnasts are being put through hell to force them to leave home is... a choice. And not one I think anyone can explain.

While this was going on the Pôle Marseille was closed down after it's head was convicted of "moral harassment." One of the longest running French gymnastics meets Gym Massilia was abruptly cancelled last year and though it was said it would be back this spring... it's July and that hasn't happened.

All of this has been about WAG but it's also worth mentioning that the French federation hired Vitaly Marinitch to be the head coach of the French team. He had been publicly fired from USAG for drunkenly groping the wife of an athlete. In under 2 years the French also fired him for "alcohol related incidents".

A lot of this came to a head last month when a French sports television program aired a segment including many former French national team members describing physical and verbal abuse. It's... a hard listen if you can find a copy though the versions on youtube have been copywrite striked so I can't link it. The French Minister of Sport acted the next day ordering Nemour to be released to compete for Algeria and investigations into the coaches described in the report, as well as a "speedy conclusion" to the investigation into Avoine-Beaumont. The FFG has down played and been dismissive of the entire thing. Even claiming that the TV team did their investigation... because of Larry Nassar. But hey... the French gym fed president gets to spend a lot of time now answering questions before the National Assembly's investigative commission.

That's pretty much the state of everything right now... but please indulge me as I give a brief explainer about how France does not work the way you think it might. France is divided into administrative units called departments (think provinces or states). There are two "kinds" of departments those of Metropolitan France (the area you probably think of when you think of a map of France) and the départements et régions d'outre-mer or Overseas Departments. There is NO difference under French law between the two. Marine Boyer is from the French department of Réunion which is in the Indian ocean and MDJDS is from the French department of Martinique in the Caribbean. They are both full French citizens and their home departments have representation in the European Parliament. Does this sound very Colonialism-y or Empire-y to you? Of course it does. You wouldn't be wrong. But this does not change the reality of how French citizens are treated under the law. French political society highly values the idea that all French citizens are equal under the law and it would be deeply offensive to that power structure to suggest that a French citizen should be treated differently based on if they came from a Metropolitan Department or DROM.

One other side note: Many believe Avoine-Beaumont pushes too much difficulty too young. I am among the people who believes that. But there is also no evidence that they are doing anything different than would be done at INSEP. It's completely possible to side eye the pacing at Avoine-Beaumont and also think that they are the victims of a power grab. While I do not know of any complaints by current gymnasts against Avoine-Beaumont there is some evidence from the London quad of restrictive diets and abuse.

[thepixelelf]

this is definitely a stretch but a slightly off kilter dimension 20: mentopolis au where, consider Jeon Wonwoo, "junior researcher at Gobstopper Industries, a retro-futurist conglomerate, working on all sorts of amazing art deco technology in a gilded, non descript, past-like past..." ("gah, he paints a picture with his words!" 03:12) who works in the neuroscience department, kind of a loner, always focused on his research. Often closed off because he is led by his logic and ambition. Pushed down his sense of conscience years ago because of an incident involving an ice skate to the face but he doesn't like to talk about that or frankly even think about it so... work it is.

Anyway, one day Mr Big Boss Guy walks into Wonwoo's office/lab with you, and he introduces you to him as a specialist in projectiles. You two are going to be working on the new Psychometer project together. Wonwoo just nods, shakes your hand, and registers your sweet nice to meet you smile too late because he's already turned back to his calculations and now it would be too awkward to say nice to meet you too and damn it, why is he so damn awkward?

You don't pay it much mind— you've met plenty of awkward, shy nerds at Gobstopper Industries and while Wonwoo is maybe one of the nicer looking ones, you're no stranger to clipped greetings and noses buried in research. You yourself are quite the nerd, anyway, so it's no skin off your back.

[warning: fake science ahead! also cw for guns!]

For a while you two just work on your own things— him with his weird neuro something something tech, and you with your projectile prototypes. You're signed on as a temporary contract, so Mr Big Boss Guy never really told you what kind of thing you're making the projectiles for. But it does occur to you at some point... why would you put a projectiles guy and a neuro guy on the same project? What the heck are you even building?

So you ask him. "Hey, Jeon. Can I call you Jeon?"

He seems a bit jumpy at the sudden appearance of your voice, which is fair since you guys haven't really talked in the days since you started working together, but he turns to look at you and eventually nods.

"What is it exactly that you're researching?"

"Well... it's— it's... uh..." And it takes him a couple seconds to get his bearings, but then he goes on about brain waves and electrons and oxytocin and aromatherapy and a lot of other stuff that you honestly don't understand much of, but the more he speaks, the more you realize he's very much into all this research he's done. "It'll be a pioneer in mental health, this machine. If we can go into the mind and find exactly what's wrong— just imagine what that can do for the world."

You try to. You think about how the whole "mental health" thing is just starting to get on the public's radar, and what it would mean if doctors could just... look in there and then tweak the undesirable bits. Huh.

"That's fascinating," you tell him, not seeing the way his eyes practically light up at your, albeit monotone, interest. "And... why am I making it into a gun?"

At that, Wonwoo just blinks. "I... don't know. I think the decision came from marketing? Perhaps they think it will be more valuable if the machine is portable."

"Portable, huh," you mumble, but you don't say anything else. Wonwoo goes silent too because he literally cannot carry a conversation (esp with someone he finds smart and attractive) unless he is answering questions. So, you both just go on with your work.

Until another day, after you dropped off the latest prototype on the boss' desk, when you ask Wonwoo, "Hey, Jeon, with your mind reader thingy—"

"It's not a 'thingy'," he interrupts with an almost imperceptible pout, but you catch it and smile at how oddly cute your fellow researcher is.

"Okay, your Psychometer..."

(His eyes light up again. They keep doing that.)

"...is it only for looking?"

He frowns, not understanding. "What do you mean?"

You tilt your head to the side, tapping your sharpened pencil on your desk. "I mean... can you use it to do anything about the stuff it sees?"

"Tampering with the brain is an extremely dangerous endeavour. There's no telling what could happen if the Psychometer were used to manipulate emotions or desires—"

"Wait, so it can be used like that?"

Wonwoo's frown deepens, he scoots to the edge of his chair towards you, one hand on his knee. "No. The technology could potentially be altered to manipulate the brain, yes, but the result could be disastrous—"

You jolt up onto your feet. "It's a mind control device???"

"I don't think you understand—"

But you're not listening to him anymore. You lean over your workspace, eyes darting over all your blueprints and scrap metal prototypes. "Holy shit," you mutter to yourself. "And I designed it into a weapon..."

You didn't always know there was something off about Big Boss Guy, but after meeting and getting to know Wonwoo and his research, you thought it was a little strange. Big tech industries like Gobstopper don't care about the good of the people like Wonwoo does... they care about money. And Big Boss Guy always seemed so smug when you updated him on the Psychometer project... yeah, a patent for a brain scanner would probably make him millions... but a mind control device? He could move to fucking Mars if he sold it to the right people.

Or used it on the right people.

In a frenzied panic, you begin swiping your hands over your desk to try and collect all of your research into a pile, while Wonwoo watches you with his confusion mounting.

"What are you—"

"Wonwoo," you breathe out, heart beating much faster than healthy. "Can I call you Wonwoo?" You don't wait for his answer; you're not even looking at him. "You need to get all your shit on a hard drive, and then you need to delete it from every Gobstopper computer—"

"What? Why would I—"

You walk straight up to him and put both your hands on his arms. If he wasn't confused and defensive right now, he'd probably be flustered.

"We made a fucking mind control gun, Wonwoo. Do you know what that means?"

Who is he kidding? He's flustered. He shakes his head.

You close your eyes as you let out a sigh. "We made a weapon. A very dangerous weapon. And the only way to stop it from going to the wrong people is if—"

Wonwoo watches you stop, and it's not like when he can't continue speaking because he doesn't know the answer, or when you pause because you thought of something funny, like you often do, but you actually freeze. Your mouth stays slightly open, caught in whatever you were going to say next, and your arms go stiff. Wonwoo is about to speak when he hears his boss' voice from the entryway.

"The wrong people?" he says, calm as ever as he lowers the Psychometer prototype he'd just had pointed in your direction. "C'mon, Jeon. You know I'd never put this in the wrong hands." He admires the machine in his hand. "It's much better off with me, don't you think?"

It's not that Wonwoo has no idea what the fuck is going on. In fact, thanks to you and your recent revelation, he finally actually knows what the fuck is going on.

It's just that he has no idea what the fuck to do now.

"You can't— this—" He looks at you, who have never been so close to him for so long, and right now it's completely against your will. He hates that thought. "Whatever you did with the Psychometer, turn it off! Reverse it, just— let them go!"

His boss shows off a mocking pout. "But they were saying such mean lies, Jeon. I told you: this machine is going to change the world. Don't you want that?"

"Not like this!"

"Tell you what, Jeon," his boss says, unfazed. "How about you finish doing your job like you were asked, and I make your little projectile friend fall in love with you, eh? You'd like that, wouldn't you? I see the way you look at them when you think no one's watching."

Bile threatens to rise up Wonwoo's throat. To make you like him— no, he never wanted that.

"Don't," he growls.

"Alright, alright. Then I guess I'll just have to offer a slightly worse deal. You make me my fully functional Psychometer, and I don't go through all the steps up to making their death look like an accident." He pulls out a sleek, silver gun and points it straight at you.

"Fine— fine!" Wonwoo holds out a hand, the other one now holding onto your arm. "I'll build it, but..." He bites the inside of his lip. He hasn't taken anything close to risk in years. "...but I need their help."

His boss raises a brow. "I don't think they're gonna want to be helpful."

"I'll make sure the comply," Wonwoo assures him, although he's not that confident in his ability to convince you.

He just needs you back to normal.

His boss clicks his tongue and tucks away his gun. A long time ago, he told Wonwoo he liked him because he listens well to authority. "Alright, Jeon, but make sure they do, and fast. Otherwise, I'll have to find somebody else for the job."

Wonwoo doesn't miss the thinly veiled threat, but he pays no attention to it. His boss points the Psychometer at you once again, and with a gasping breath, you fall to your knees. Wonwoo immediately joins you at your side, not hugging you like he kind of wants to, but patting your back as you cough.

Faintly, he hears his boss ordering people to barricade both exits from the lab.

"Holy..." You gag, and cough, and almost throw up, but don't. "...shit."

"Are you alright?" Wonwoo asks.

You whip your head to glare at him. "Am I alri— Wonwoo, do you know what you just agreed to?!"

So you heard everything, huh.

(It's not what he should think about first, he knows that, but Wonwoo feels heat on his face knowing that you heard his boss talking about the way he looks at you.)

"It was the only way for him to unfreeze you..."

At that, your panic and anger soften. You sigh. "I... Thank you."

"You're welcome," he says automatically, then cringes at how the words sound.

"You know I'm not helping you make that thing, right?"

Wonwoo nods. "I don't want to make it either."

"Good, then..." You stand up, Wonwoo keeping his hands hovered only inches away in case you're unsteady on your feet, and you reach into one the the inner pockets of your labcoat.

From which you pull out a grappling hook.

Wonwoo's eyes widen, and he has half the mind to ask you if you keep one of those on you at all times (???), but you stride past him to look out the floor to ceiling windows of the lab— which is four floors off the ground.

You turn to him with a sickeningly sly grin. "You ever looked at a window and asked yourself if you could break it with a good ol' shove?"

Wonwoo shakes his head, incredulous. "No!"

"Well." You shrug, going to grab as much of his and your paperwork as you can and stuffing it into your bag. "It's either the window, or mister 'I'm gonna rule the world' out there."

Wonwoo weighs his options. On the one hand, you're...

Well, you're there.

And, okay, on the other is a guy with two different guns, so...

Wonwoo goes over to his computer, taps at a fews keys, and initiates a total manual reset.

Once he turns back around, you've already started tying rope around yourself. "Get over here," you grunt.

And so Wonwoo lets you literally tie him to you, and then he jumps out of a god damn fucking window.

and that's all for this episode of diMEN—

[canigetuuu]

that skater au gave me brain worms so. just. take whatever this is. I'm so tired.

John

started figure skating young

his dad was a genial and well respected business manager at a rink in Washington sponsored by the prestigious Skaianet Systems Inc, which brought major players like the vaulted Roxanne Lalonde to Olympic gold stardom

he's just a decent man though, trying to support his family

he brought John to the rinks sometimes and taught him to skate just for fun

however, John soon started showing a prodigious talent for it, and Dad Egbert was so so proud of him for it

John liked skating well enough at the time, and was kind of hoping that maybe if he took up skating his dad would axe the whole harlequin thing

(which he did)

(mostly)

at sixteen, after winning a few pretty impressive medals in the junior category, John was ready to call it quits and retire the professional skates

Tragically, however, it was around this time that James "Dad" Egbert, who had always been so supportive of John's skating, died very suddenly.

John grieves in a very particular way. He often gets (home)stuck in a version of denial which often looks like radical acceptance.

He is in fact actually very fucked up right now.

Vriska Serket, a young and notorious athlete turned coach who John had been working with for the last year or so at that time, pulls a Vriska, and hamfists John back into skating.

With her guidance, John becomes one of THE top US figure skaters, and at age 21 is ready for his second foray into the Olympic scene.

The winter Olympics are in less than a year, and John has taken up training in Vancouver...

Dirk

took up street hockey as a teen in his home town of Houston, Texas with his kid brother Dave, who said it was the height of irony to play a winter sport in the hottest place this side of satans tight asshole

Dave never liked it as much as Dirk did though

probably because Dave liked not fainting from heat stroke

I know, Dave is so weird

It got them out of that apartment though.

... (<- Bro silence being very loud)

Anyway

At 16, Dirk got scouted by a pale man in a suit working for a company called Abraxas, which he said was looking for young athletes to sponsor. <- very believable

That's very rude. I never lie.

And please, call me Doc Scratch.

Is it normal for traveling salesmen to have doctorates?

Oh it's not a title, though I imagine it would be very easy for me to acquire one. Haa haa, hee hee.

...

Things got very messy and horrible very quickly.

Events culminated in an extremely high profile law suit, where Dirk and many other athletes were represented by the Pyrope Firm to take down Abraxas, Doc Scratch, and his boss Lord English (H3'S SO PR3T3NTIOUS, UGH) and to free them all from their horrifying contracts

Pyrope won.

For now.

At age 18, Dirk had a scandal behind him, a kid brother to take care of beside him (the Bro silence got quieter), and a veritable mountain of legal reparations ($$$) to get him into any college he wanted.

...

dude, just go to the hockey school

I could support you better with a law degree.

After Dave had to go to the hospital due to the force of his laughing fit giving him a hernia, Dirk decided to go to the hockey school.

He joins the team there, and does well enough to get into the Big Leagues once he graduates with a combob philosophy/comp sci degree.

the Big Man. he is you

Dave, despite having a literal athlete brother, still has no idea how sports work.

And neither do I, so just assume that Dirk does really well and gets on a good team and is very normal about everything.

He is especially normal when, at age 24, he has to move to Vancouver, Canada since he got swapped to a different team and Dave doesn't come with him.

DUN DUN DUUUUUUUn

Bonus notes

Rose is John's friend who is also a figure skater. She's got a very turbulent relationship with her mother, former Olympic skater Roxanne Lalonde, which drags down her genuine love for skating with the weight of legacy.

John and Dave are internet friends who don't know each other's last names, and while John knows a lot about Dave's life, he keeps his own private.

Dirk started playing hockey not for the ironies like Dave thought but because his online friend Jake said he thought hockey players were cool, and Dirk had a crush on him.

Dirk and Jade went to the same college (she was home schooled and started college early) and took a robotics class together for two semesters. They're still friends to this day, though Jade actually is an engineer now.

Guess where she's interning.

(Psst, it's Skaianet)

Vriska stopped being a skater after a string of incidents involving two other former skaters and a lawyer, which resulted in her being banned from ever competing again. One is now in a wheelchair and the other quit the ice skating thing completely. Ghosted it, if you will. wonk.

Aradia is a roller derby skater, and she is incredibly hot. She might show up in the hypothetical actual fic i write for this au. Because I love her.

Me being me i'll probably find a way to include everybody else in this au, but for now, that's all. Ta.

[dawnsbreaking]

chapter one

Suresh Desilva never imagined himself buying someone an engagement ring. His dream life included an impressive law school degree and a cushy job in corporate litigation that allowed him plenty of money and time off to travel the world with whichever pretty girl he felt like bringing along. It was all going to plan. That was, until he started seeing Catherine. And all the visions of wedding bells and picket fences that seemed to follow her around.  - Pre-villa. Two proposals gone wrong.

- pairing: Suresh/Catherine (MC) chapter word count: 4,317 read on AO3 want to be tagged in future works?

Suresh Desilva never imagined himself buying someone an engagement ring.

His dream life included an impressive law school degree and a cushy job in corporate litigation that allowed him plenty of money and time off to travel the world with whichever pretty girl he felt like bringing along. And it was all going to plan.

That was, until he started seeing Catherine. And all the visions of wedding bells and picket fences that seemed to follow her around. 

They'd met at a bookstore in the science fiction section. Classic meet-cute. Suresh had been there buying a novel as a gift for one of his nerdier friends from law school but seeing Catherine had made him want to pretend to care about the books she was browsing just to impress her.

He was smooth, asked her out in the same way he did with other girls, and she'd accepted his number despite a skeptical attitude. It had helped that he bought the book she’d wanted for her. Otherwise, she might not have looked his way at all.

Over coffee a week after the bookstore, Suresh learned that Catherine was a Junior Doctor, specializing in cardiovascular surgery. He was thrilled to have met someone as dedicated to their work as he was to his. A doctor and a lawyer, he’d joked, they’d make a great pair.

Suresh had always thought of himself as charming, but getting to know Catherine made him realize that he’d been doing things all wrong. He was charming in a one-size-fits-all way. He walked into a room like a forest fire, expected the world to bend to his will just because it always had.

Catherine, on the other hand, was a slow burn. A pilot light. Reliable but oft overlooked. A tiny flame just for those that bothered to venture close enough. She didn’t charm strangers just by nature of being, she charmed those she cared to charm with painstaking effort. Learning this, like everything else with Catherine, took some time.

She was busier than he was—a first for him, he'd always had girls on his schedule and not the other way around. Many of their dates happened on carefully planned coffee runs in between meetings (Suresh) and during rare lunch breaks from the clinic (Catherine), but they made it work.

It took a beat for Suresh to realize that Catherine taking the time to get to know him at all was a sign of interest and an act of service. Her schedule didn’t allow for frivolous dating and neither did her personality. He kicked himself for not realizing sooner and planned an elaborate dinner to celebrate the milestone of him overcoming his ignorance.

He asked her to be his girlfriend that night and she’d accepted on the grounds of a contract they drew up on a bar napkin. A contract according to Catherine, that is. Suresh refused to endorse the legality of her shoddy document, even though he agreed to the terms wholeheartedly. The bar napkin vows were simple. They would both put their careers first unless things became serious enough to revisit. They would both do their best to communicate problems as they arose. Most importantly, they were exclusive as long as Suresh wanted to be. Catherine didn’t have time to worry about whether or not he was being loyal to her, so she gave him an easy out. They would separate painlessly if they needed to separate.

It had pained Suresh to see such a manifestation of relationship anxiety from Catherine. But he understood her hesitation, humored her, signed his name along a dotted line drawn in pen.

Turned out, the secret to getting a guy like Suresh to want to settle down was an equal match. Catherine worked like a foil to Suresh in all the best ways.

His old tricks didn’t work on her, and her occasional coldness wasn’t enough to keep him at bay. Both of them, though, knew the value of something that took a bit of effort.

After they became official, the relationship took on a whole new form. Catherine slept over after dinner that night and they’d had sex for the first time. Subsequently, she began sleeping over regularly. Often she would visit him late—early, she argued—after long hours of hospital rotations. It helped that Suresh lived near by the hospital. Catherine enjoyed the plausible deniability of a good excuse.

Six months passed without either of them really noticing.

In that time, Suresh learned that he enjoyed the slow burn. He learned that he liked letting her surgeon-steady hand stoke the flames. He learned that things didn’t have to flare up and fizzle out after a thrilling chase at a bar. They could build and rest, wax and wane. Live, breath, settle in.

It frightened and amazed Suresh all at once the way this thing between them felt built to last. And despite both of their reservations, things were beginning to get serious. Which brought him to the engagement ring.

They’d just wrapped up a two week holiday in Bora Bora. And while the trip had been idyllic, perfect days and exciting nights, Suresh found that he was excited to return home to the routines he and Catherine had settled into parallel each other.

It was fast for an engagement—lightning speed for a playboy like Suresh—but he’d heard the old adage. When you know, you know. And, fuck, he knew.

He paid for wifi on the plane to order the ring. Smiled at the secret as Catherine dozed with her head on his shoulder.

-

Suresh had never taken anyone home to meet his family, but he invited Catherine to Christmas in Edinburgh without a second thought. It had been a month since their trip to Bora Bora and Catherine had yet to mention any holiday plans with her own family.

“Come home with me,” he said, muting himself on the call with his mum, “for Christmas, I mean.”

Catherine shrugged, looking him up and down from her favorite place on his couch. Sitting, like she usually did, with a coffee in one hand and a patient file in the other.

“I haven’t got any plans.”

Suresh beamed as he returned to the call with his mother. “Yes, Catherine’s coming.”

He was a changed man, holding her hand under the table as they ate Christmas dinner with his family. Proposing on Christmas was a cliché that Suresh couldn’t bring himself to stoop to, but he was tempted as he watched her chat with his little sister. Laughing behind her hand, trading jokes with his dad and recipes with his mum.

The ring was in Suresh’s suitcase. Gold with stark white gems. A classic, just like Catherine herself. He carried it with him everywhere, even if he wasn’t sure when he intended to use it.

“This food is amazing,” Catherine told Suresh’s mother, dabbing the corner of her mouth gingerly with a cloth napkin, despite there being nothing there. “You’ll have to teach me how to make it.”

“I’ll send you the recipe.” Suresh’s mom beamed.

As much as he loved Catherine in particular, Suresh imagined that his parents would have been happy meeting any of his girlfriends. He could tell that they were just excited to be let into his life. He’d been guiltily aloof since moving out for school. Not quite estranged, but something approaching it.

The scene before him was pure familial bliss, a perfect contrast to the mercurial years he’d spent alone, flitting between bright office buildings and pretty girls and exotic destinations.

He squeezed Catherine’s hand under the table. He loved her. He’d told her so, weeks before, but he was still in awe at how much he meant it.

He loved her.

“I’ve got to get better at cooking,” Catherine said. “My older brother loved cooking when I was younger, so my parents didn’t have as much time to teach me.”

“I’ll tutor you any time.” Suresh’s mum tipped her wine glass in Catherine’s direction. “The door is always open. You’ll need to learn before you’re married!”

Catherine blushed, shifted in her seat.

“Amma,” Suresh groaned, feigning annoyance to save Catherine but feeling warm inside even still. “Don’t be like that. I wouldn’t mind cooking for us.”

He cooked for them plenty already, loving anticipating one of Catherine's visits and providing a hot meal when he knew her hospital days were fueled completely by vending machine snacks and cold cafeteria sandwiches. 

“Maybe Suresh can teach you.” His mum winked, not missing a beat. “I’ve taught him well enough.”

Suresh’s cooking ability was a side-effect of his older sister’s tendency toward feminism and nothing else, but he was glad for it in that moment. Aashvi had rebelled against the idea that she’d have to learn how to run a household just because she was a girl, so their parents thwarted her by becoming egalitarian. Suresh, just a year and a half younger than his older sister, had learned to cook right alongside her.

He was a better cook than Aashvi, now. And more tidy than his younger sister, Dayani.

Catherine, on the other hand, had been raised by parents almost too progressive for their own good. She hadn’t shown an interest in cooking like her brother, so she wasn’t taught. Most of her meals at home came from beginner-friendly meal subscription kits. And, even then, her abilities were questionable.

Suresh didn’t mind, though. Completely antithetical to his stoic nature, he liked the idea of caring for Catherine like his mother had cared for his father and sisters.

As Catherine helped Suresh’s mother clear the table, Dayani held back, giving Suresh a meaningful look as she pulled him aside. His younger sister was in high school, now, but he still saw a child whenever he looked at her. He wondered when she’d started carrying around an iPhone and sending memes to her friends via Snapchat rather than reading children’s fantasy books alone in her room.

“I like her,” Dayani said. That much was obvious, she’d been holding court at the dinner table all night, trying to impress Catherine.

Suresh pinched her cheek. “I know.”

“Whatcha talking about?” Catherine rejoined them, giving Dayani a sly look. “Any good gossip?”

“Desilva business,” Suresh said. He threw an arm over Catherine’s shoulders. “Maybe we’ll get married someday and let you in on all the family secrets.”

“Hah,” Catherine deadpanned.

“Until then…” Suresh mimed zipping his lips and throwing the key toward Dayani, who caught the invisible key out of the air with a flourish.

Catherine smiled. “You two are so cute. It’s a shame Aashvi couldn’t make it, I was looking forward to meeting her.”

“Right.” Suresh grimaced. His relationship with the older of his two sisters was much less fun. Strained at best, soul-sucking at worst. He hadn’t told Catherine much about it, but it was probably for the best that Aashvi hadn’t made it to celebrate Christmas with them.

She stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Maybe next year.”

“Ew,” Dayani joked, “get a room.”

Suresh laughed. “Will do.”

“Gross.”

The room in question was Suresh’s childhood bedroom, now made into a guest bedroom. The single bed had been upgraded to a double once Suresh had gotten a good job and a nice flat and his parents accepted that he’d probably not be moving back in for a very long time. He was grateful that he and Catherine didn’t have to squeeze into a twin bed or sleep on an air mattress in the living room like Aashvi and her partner had done in the past.

Though the bed was different, the rest of the room had remained pretty well intact. His posters from high school had been replaced with family photos—overflow from Mum's scrapbooks, surely. His bookshelves, though, still held rows of mystery novels and textbooks, as well as trophies from debate club and souvenir trinkets from various breaks visiting his parents’ families in Sri Lanka.

“Aw, you didn’t tell me we were staying in little Suresh’s room!” Catherine made pouty-eyes at him and exaggerated the sentence with a cutesy voice. She lingered at the bookshelf, ogling a framed debate club photo.

Suresh rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t sure we were.”

“You haven’t been back here much, have you?” She asked, voice approaching a more serious tone. Catherine was always just one errant thought away from a serious discussion. She didn’t have the time nor desire to keep her anxieties to herself now that she trusted Suresh to hold them.

He turned, knitting his brows at her. “What makes you ask?”

“Your family treats you a bit like a celebrity,” she said, “like maybe this is a special occasion.”

Feeling caught, Suresh took his usual tact for when he didn’t have the words to help her feel better. He pulled Catherine into a loose embrace, turned his voice to silk. His presence was soothing enough, so long as he wasn’t the reason for her fears.

“It is a special occasion, baby.”

“Okay, yeah, it’s Christmas.” Catherine laughed. “But, I mean.”

“No.” He pulled her closer, kissed above the neckline of her red sweater. “Because you’re here.”

“Ah.” Catherine hummed, leaning her head to the side to allow him access to her neck. Her pensive look remained when Suresh pulled back, though, so he resigned himself to the truth.

“I’ve never brought anyone home before,” he admitted, “I’ve never felt the need to with anyone else.”

“Oh.” Catherine examined him with a frown. The stethoscope was missing, but he half expected her to ask him to turn and cough so she could diagnose the root of his family issue.

“I didn’t know that,” she said, finally.

Suresh shrugged. “I didn’t want to make a thing of it, but—”

“That is the kind of thing you might make a thing of, though.”

“I didn’t want to scare you.”

“I’m not scared.” Catherine’s tone went defensive.

She was. And Suresh knew it. Catherine had very little experience with dating. She’d had a boyfriend in high school, but had spent most of her adult life single, sparing a Tinder fling here or there. She distrusted the notion of romance a little bit inherently.

Suresh had to remind himself not to take it as a personal indictment.

“You’re sure?” He asked.

Catherine nodded. Pecked his lips. “I’m sure. Thank you for telling me.”

“Always,” he said. He kissed her forehead, gave a convincing smile, took her to bed.

-

The next morning, Suresh woke up to find himself alone in his childhood bedroom. Catherine was a light sleeper and frequently snuck out of bed when she stayed over at his flat, but it was surprising that she’d felt comfortable to sneak away in his parents’ home.

Suresh got out of bed, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before venturing to the kitchen, where he hoped he’d find his missing girlfriend.

“Good morning!” Catherine called when she heard the door open. She was sitting at the dining room table, having a cuppa with Dayani. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You could’ve.” Suresh grumbled. He didn’t like being left out.

“I’ve only really been awake for, like, twenty minutes,” Catherine told him. “Have a seat, I’ll make you a cuppa.”

Despite her reservations the night before, Catherine seemed quite comfortable navigating his family’s kitchen. He grumpily obeyed, nodding at his sister as he took a seat across from her.

“Remember when you used to stay up all night on Christmas because you were too excited for presents to sleep?” Suresh asked, trying to lighten his own mood with pointless nostalgia.

Dayani laughed. “Used to? I was up all last night.”

“Glad to see that some things never change.”

Catherine returned, a new teacup in hand. She set it in front of Suresh, her eyes darting between him and his sister.

“My family’s the same as you,” she said, “my parents are always up at four in the morning to open presents. We all take naps after, though.”

“Oh I wish! Mum is the worst, she insists on making a big breakfast for everyone before presents.”

“Actually! Hold on, one second.” Catherine left the table, scurrying back to the guest bedroom without another word.

“Where’s she going?” Dayani asked.

Suresh answered with a shrug. “No clue.”

Catherine returned a moment later with a small box, wrapped in peachy, luminescent wrapping paper. There was a little paper daisy on the front in place of a bow. Looking proud of herself, she placed the box on the table and slid it toward Dayani.

“You can open that one now, if you like,” she said.

Suresh had brought a gift card for each of his sisters, having given up on pleasing both of them long ago. Catherine had signed the cards alongside him. He had no idea she’d gotten other gifts behind his back.

“That’s from me. I hope you like it. Suresh was no help.”

Dayani beamed at her, carefully removing the paper daisy and unfolding the wrapping paper at the seams. She really was on her best behavior, Suresh had never seen her so careful with a gift from anyone else. 

“Oh, this is so pretty!”

“Let me see.” Suresh leaned over the table, trying to get a glimpse inside the box.

Laid carefully on velvet plush was a delicate rose gold necklace with a little Pisces charm. Suresh vaguely recalled telling Catherine that his sister was obsessed with astrology. It had been a passing comment, though, he wasn’t sure how she’d remembered.

“Suresh told me you liked astrology,” Catherine said, suddenly a bit sheepish, “I hope you don’t mind the Facebook stalking it took to find your sign.”

“It’s perfect.” Dayani fingered the charm, taking it in with greedy eyes before looking back up at Catherine. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.” Catherine blushed, sparing a sideways glance at Suresh as if asking his approval.

He gave her an encouraging smile, again overwhelmed with affection for her. Beyond everything else, beyond the other things he liked about her, Catherine was always surprising him. It was like she was privy to some secret information about the universe, the way she always knew exactly the right thing to do.

“You’re all up so early.” Suresh’s mom strolled down the stairs at a leisurely pace, playing up the drama of her entrance. She was wearing her pajamas and a fluffy pink robe, but her makeup was done for the day.

“Amma, look at what Catherine gave me.” Dayani held up the necklace in its box for their mom to see.

While his mum and Dayani cooed over the necklace, Suresh rose from the table to slip an arm around Catherine’s waist. He whispered in her ear, “I love you.”

He couldn’t otherwise articulate all the feelings he felt for the moment—all the awe he felt for seeing Catherine’s skill for anticipating the needs and desires of others. The warmth and care he’d won from her extending now to the people in his orbit.

“I love you, too.”

“You didn’t get me a matching necklace, did you? With a Leo charm?”

“Nah, not your style.” She smiled up at him, kissed his jaw. “Sorry to throw you under the bus.”

“Eh, I deserved it.”

“Next time the presents can be from both of us.”

Next time.

Along with the necklace for Dayani, Catherine had also secretly procured an uncannily well-chosen bracelet for Suresh’s mother, a sturdy watch for his father, and something in a small box—wrapped with silver paper and secured with a paper star—for Aashvi. All of this was a sweet revelation when they finally exchanged gifts by the fire after breakfast.

Suresh overheard a conversation about the gifts between Catherine and Dayani as the two settled at the kitchen table afterwards. Catherine had offered to help Dayani with her Biology homework once her profession had been discussed.

“Could I leave Aashvi’s gift with you for the next time she visits?” Catherine asked.

She’d have better luck sending it by carrier pigeon, Suresh thought grimly. Aashvi visited home even less than he did.

“Um, you could do…”

“You ought to just let Daya keep it,” Suresh interjected.

Catherine looked up at him with a frown, reminding him that he’d yet to tell her anything about his relationship with his elder sister. It hadn’t felt worth mentioning until now.

“Or we can mail it,” he said, softening. “That’s easier.”

“Sure.” Catherine returned to her conversation with Dayani, but he knew from her expression that she’d tabled the discussion for when they were in private. He braced himself in advance for her reaction to his lackluster explanation.

It wasn't that he and Aashvi had experienced any sort of dramatic fight or falling out. That kind of direct communication was beyond both of them.

No, they'd drifted apart in their slightly overlapping college years and had just never found enough common ground between them since to mend the rift.

Besides this, Aashvi resented him for reasons beyond his control. And Suresh wasn't the type to accept blame that he hadn’t earned.

He could connect the dots well enough to know what she felt, though. Aashvi was independent like him and opinionated like him. She lived for her work just like he did. Suresh imagined she resented the way their parents expressed disappointment in only one of them for being distant and disinterested in family.

But none of that was Suresh's fault. He'd support her wholeheartedly if Aashvi would just bother to ask him what he thought instead of building up walls around herself. As it stood, they would probably never again be close like they were as children.

He could practically hear Catherine's side of the conversation already. She'd tell Suresh that it was in some way his responsibility to wonder after his sister. She'd say that he was being selfish by not defending her to their parents. That they probably got caught up in a silly misunderstanding somewhere down the line and he'd regret never clearing it up.

The worst part was that for all his aptitude in building strong cases, he didn't know how he'd make an argument against any of those points.

-

Suresh was right on the mark with his predictions for how Catherine reacted to his explanation. They were packing their things that night so they'd be ready to leave the next morning when Catherine brought up the gift for Suresh's older sister again.

"Are we really going to mail this, Resh?" She held out the box, dainty and sparkling. Suresh was tempted to tell her that Aashvi didn't deserve it. The gift in its delicate, shiny paper didn't mesh with the image of Aashvi in his mind, all her rough edges and calloused hands.

"You didn't have to get her anything," Suresh countered, avoiding her question.

It was unfortunate, sometimes, the hold that Catherine had on him. Just one disappointed look was enough to make him reconsider.

Suresh sighed. "Fine. I'll call her and ask for an address."

"You don't know where she lives?"

"She moves around a lot."

Catherine frowned, reaching for his hand to pull him to sit on the bed next to her. “Would you tell me what’s going on? You've bristled every time I've mentioned her.”

Where went his brilliant poker face around her?

Suresh wondered if he'd be able to get Catherine on his side. He imagined all the ways he could shift the story around, rearranging the points in his mind as if preparing to draft a legal document.

Finding no pockets of logic to rest his frustrations with Aashvi safely within, he sighed, giving up before he’d really put up a fight. "It's silly, really. I'll call her."

He made good on his promise the next morning, left alone in the bedroom again as Catherine bonded with his family without him. He’d almost be annoyed at how much his family liked her if he weren’t also wooed by Catherine’s mere presence.

Like he expected, the call went to voicemail.

“You’ve reached Aashvi Desilva,” a recording of Aashvi’s voice said on the other line, “leave me a message an’ I’ll get back to ya’.”

Even in her voicemail, she couldn’t be bothered to pronounce her words properly. She mumbled, still, like a child.

A tone sounded. Suresh had meant to hang up, but he hadn’t. And now he had to record a message, lest his sister receive a ten second clip of him breathing. Christ.

“Uh, hey Aash. It’s me.” He cringed, wishing he’d planned what he was going to say beforehand. “Just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. Give me a call.”

He hung up, tossed his phone aside to get dressed. With any luck, Aashvi would ignore his call and therefore shoulder the blame for their continued estrangement.

Suresh was buttoning his trousers when his phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Suresh?” Aashvi’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. Maybe he’d caught her in the Christmas spirit.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, unconvincingly.

Aashvi laughed and her voice found a sharp note. There she was. “Did Dayani put you up to this?”

“No, I…” He trailed off, unsure where to begin.

Why did he have to make caring for her so damn difficult? This is why he couldn’t ask after her, she questioned his motives every time. “Merry Christmas, Suresh. Is that all?”

“No.” Suresh straightened, leveling his voice as if treating this like a business call would make it feel less like pulling teeth. “I wanted to ask your address. To send a gift.”

“You don’t have to send me anything.”

“Just—“ He took a breath. It wouldn’t do to argue with her. “Just text me your address. Please?”

“Man, whatever’s gotten into you…” Aashvi trilled, giggling like any part of ruining Suresh’s morning was amusing. “Heart grown three sizes today?”

Suresh grumbled, "Something like that."

-

thank you for reading! please don't expect this to be on schedule, i don't even know where it came from. i blacked out at my laptop for three hours and woke up to find this. comments/reblogs appreciated <3

tags: @starsarestars @future-mrs-suresh @aislinnstanaka

[weiying-lanzhan-fics]

Insert Coin Now for Extra Life by TriviasFolly

Perfection!

Really enjoyed this story and was soooo excited to see it complete. Loved them slowly learning about each other and falling in love. Has been a wonderful ride - soft WangXian 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Quotes:

Except Lan Wangji wasn’t a frustrated closeted gay boy anymore. Now he was an alpha who was secure in his sexuailty, and more importantly good at getting what he wanted. He’d been working for Lan Corporation since he started college. He’d been closing deals since the summer before his junior year, his ‘harsh’ nature being preferred for hard sells over brother’s polite smiles. 

A soft knock on the door pulled Lan Wangji out of his thoughts. He looked up to see his brother’s head poking in. Lan Wangji waved him in, moving to slide the newspaper clippings back into the file they came in. 

“I thought you’d want to see this,” Lan Xichen held up a file in his own hand. 

“I was-” Lan Wangji shifted. 

“Wangji, spare me.” Lan Xichen smiled as he approached the desk. 

“Researching,” Lan Wangji finished. “For our upcoming business venture.” 

“Wangji, Jiang Wanyin turned us down.” Lan Xichen sat in one of the chairs in front of Lan Wangji’s desk. His hands folding over his knee as he crossed his legs, a natural ease Lan Wangji envied. “We can’t force him to make a deal with us.” 

“We won’t,” Lan Wangji’s gaze flickered back to the paused still of Wei Wuxian on his screen. “He’ll come to us.” 

“Jiang Wanyin made his opinion quite clear.” 

“Not him,” Lan Wangji looked back at his brother. “Wei Ying.” 

“And you think this why?” Lan Xichen arched an eyebrow. 

“Devotion,” Lan Wangji hummed. “To his pack, even back in highschool.” 

————

“I know,” Wei Wuxian shifted awkwardly. He felt a sense of shame come over him. He closed his eyes, as if it would make admitting it easier. “Lotus Pier Industries debts aren’t all we’re dealing with. I’m already behind on Yanli’s hospital bills, and I’m barely paying for our motel room. Not to mention I’ll have to deal with my student loans eventually. I know traditionally marriage contracts are expected to quickly produce children, but I can’t leave my family hanging. I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you, but I can’t afford not to work. I need my jobs, however crappy they might be.” 

“Do you enjoy your job?” Wei Wuxian’s eyes flew open.

“That’s not the point,” Wei Wuxian protested. “I need it.”

“Do you enjoy your job?” Lan Wangji repeated. Wei Wuxian sighed, recognizing that old Lan stubbornness. 

“No,” Wei Wuxian raised a hand to his temple to rub it. 

“Then quit,” Lan Wangji replied. 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian breathed “It’s not that easy!” 

“It is,” Lan Wangji replied, reaching into his jacket. He placed a black credit card on the table. Wei Wuxian’s eyes bulged out of his head as he saw his name on it. “Which hospital is Yanli in?” 

“General,” Wei Wuxian replied, the sight of his own name embossed on the card stunning him into answering. 

“I’ll see that she’s transferred to a Lan owned hospital.” Lan Wangji nodded, his hand slipping into his suit coat again and withdrawing a phone. “I’ll make sure the doctors examine her situation and see if there is anything that can be done to speed up or improve her recovery. Please get me the information on your student loans, as well as any other outstanding bills, and we can get them paid off.” 

Wei Wuxian found himself speechless. He swallowed around the dangerously large lump in his throat, feeling tears prick at his eyes again. Lan Wangji’s hand reached out, pushing the black card closer to him. 

————

Wei Wuxian stared at him in surprise. His brain slowly shifted the pieces together. Jiang Cheng had said he smelled weird, like an alpha. His mind flashed back to the kiss, specifically the way the kiss was the reason his headache had faded. It had been because Lan Wangji had scented him during it. His request for him to wear a ring. His sweater. Subtle ways to mark his territory. Who would have guessed Lan Wangji had a jealous nature? And that it could be formed that quickly. 

“He’s my brother,” Wei Wuxian laughed, more in shock at his realization. He saw Lan Wangji shift, subtly showing his neck in a show of submission. Like a child who knew he’d done something wrong. He reached up, lifting Lan Wangji’s face so he could look him in the eye. “What what are you suggesting?” 

“If we were married tomorrow,” Lan Wangji started. “You could move in with me. I could take care of you.” 

————

“Although I am pretty sure you could read a dictionary and I’d like it,” Wei Wuxian snorted. 

“I have a dictionary,” Lan Wangji replied, the corner of his mouth ticking up. It pulled another beautiful laugh from Wei Wuxian.

“Maybe I should put you to work reading me something a little more,” Wei Wuxian smirked as he looked up at him. “Stimulating.” He finished with a whisper and a wink. 

“I’m not reading your werewolf smut out loud,” Lan Wangji replied flatly. Wei Wuxian cackled, turning to bury his head into Lan Wangji’s neck to muffle the sound. It thankfully kept Wei Wuxian from noticing his bright red ears. 

E, 201k

Summary:

Aware that his social skills are better for closing business deals than attracting a mate, Lan Wangji had resigned himself to a lonely life. Until a video from an unknown 'friend' not only brings his high school crush back into his life, but reveals their status as an omega. It ignites a spark in Lan Wangji, pushing him to make Wei Wuxian his mate no matter the cost.

Wei Wuxian's last few months have been hell. After surviving the fire that burnt down the Jiang Estate, which killed his adoptive parents and landed his sister in a coma, he and his brother learn their parent's company had debts. Debts the Wens are now coming to collect. Barely able to keep his brother fed and housed, Wei Wuxian realizes he has one last card that might be able to keep his brother out of jail. His status as a male omega.

@triviasfolly

[professional-benaddict]

Omega Tony, Alpha Stephen and their pup Peter - 1/2

an AU created by @starksvinyls and @professional-benaddict

Omegaverse, mild descriptions of birth and c-sections, enemies to friends to lovers, whump, fluff, 0.7k

Single omega Tony is the one who carried Peter, but how that came to be is a long story.

In the spring, Tony finds out he is pregnant. A bit of backtracking reveals that Tony got knocked up by Stephen Strange, an arrogant and selfish surgeon that Tony met at a gala a few weeks back. The Alpha disappeared from Tony’s life as fast as he entered it in the first place. Tony wants to tell Stephen that he is pregnant with his pup, but the doctor totally ignored Tony when he tried to contact him. Tony becomes petty and makes no second efforts to let Stephen know. 

Eight months later, Tony is just at home when he starts feeling some concerning symptoms. He is not sure if the pains are contractions, but he is concerned enough to head to the ER. If Tony was not so blinded by panic and worry for his pup, he would have headed to a hospital that Stephen does not work at. 

Instead, Stephen is the only available doctor in the ER when Tony comes in. Tony outright growls at Stephen when he recognises him and cradles his swollen belly. A nurse is helping Tony stand and they look at Stephen with a look that says “a little help maybe?”. Stephen finally snaps out of it and helps Tony to an exam room in the ER. 

If Tony is not crying and screaming in pain and fear, then he growls insults at Stephen. The nurses exchange a few looks as they slowly realise that Stephen could be the patient’s pup’s Alpha. The doctor himself pays the omega’s insults no mind and focuses on examining him and figuring out why Tony is in early labour. However, they do not have much time, as the pup is deciding he is being born now. Stephen has no choice but to do an emergency C-section. 

When Tony hears that he needs a C-section, he becomes even more terrified, especially since he came into the hospital alone. Rhodey is deployed, he would never ask Obadiah, and he does not feel that close to Pepper yet. Tony’s distress is making his pup even more distressed. All the nurses are betas and all their attempts at calming Tony fall flat, so Stephen has to step in and use his Alpha pheromones to calm Tony down. And because the pup is his, the pup also calms down when Tony does. 

Stephen is just trying to help because the smell of distressed omega is a lot to handle, and even more so when they have been intimate and he subconsciously knows that the pup is his. Thanks to Stephen’s pheromones and the sedatives and pain management he ordered for the surgery, Tony only cries a little on the operating table. 

During the actual C-section, Stephen becomes quiet and entirely focused on the surgery at hand. He is skilfully quick, and soon he has the pup in his hands. A few nurses and another junior doctor come to help Stephen with the pup since he is a few weeks premature. At first, the pup does not cry, but after some rubbing and coaxing from Stephen, the pup lets out a piercing scream. Tony chuckles tearily on the table at the sound of his precious pup. 

A nurse cleans the pup and swaddles him in a blanket when Stephen has done a few checks. The pup seems healthy and well, so a prolonged hospital stay in an incubator is not needed. Now that the most dramatic part is over, Stephen finally steps out of himself. Through his surgical mask, he catches a wiff of the pup and realises he smells himself mixed with Tony. It takes a few seconds for it to sink in for Stephen that he is holding his son. 

“My pup! I want my pup!” Tony cries. 

“He’s a good pup.” Stephen replies, coming over to Tony with the crying pup. “You got some proper lungs there, based on your screaming. Time to meet your dad, pup.” 

Tony gasps in awe at seeing his pup and holds him up to his lips. 

While sewing up Tony, Stephen can hear the omega whisper. It seems he named his son Peter. Stephen thinks it is a beautiful name, and blinks rapidly to prevent himself from tearing up. 

Stephen comes to check on Tony later that day, but the omega is asleep, exhausted after his emergency surgery. Peter is sleeping soundly as well in a crib next to his dad. The Alpha exists quietly, not feeling entitled to seeing his son, especially when Tony is not awake. 

part two

[saintsenara]

as they should

solidarity with all junior doctors striking today - and it's always worth drawing attention to the fact that the starting salary for juniors in northern ireland is at least £3000 lower than someone on an equivalent contract in england, for reasons i've never fully been able to discern.