#just a guess but this may be one of the reasons why ny by night has been delayed

[fuckyeahlabynight]

Cynthia Marie talks about her battles with cancer this year (2023)

Read the entire thread here

Sending her lots of love from fuckyeahlabynight!

[ashleywool]

late-night health update info-dumping into the void

The neuroendocrine surgeon and her nurses were patient, compassionate, and highly informative.

I walked away with more questions than answers, and like most autistics, I'm not good at sitting peaceably with the unknown.

The tl;dr is that I may not need surgery after all, but if I do need surgery, it would be a riskier surgery than I previously realized. Either way, we will have to wait at least another six weeks to get a better guess. And from where I'm standing now, that feels like an eternity--especially since, as I've often mentioned, my health insurance runs out at the end of August and by September I'll have to pay the COBRA premium. If I'm as lucky as it's possible to get with the NYS COBRA subsidy for entertainment professionals, that'll come to around $292 a month...which would still be cheaper than a marketplace plan and an overall excellent deal as health insurance goes, but guess what else runs out in August? That's right, my unemployment. And guess what happens if I get another job where I can qualify for any old crap minimum-essential health insurance? That's right, I lose the COBRA subsidy and would be stuck paying the full monthly premium...which, for the coverage I'm getting, would STILL be a better deal than most marketplace plans.

But hey, back in 2009 before the Affordable Care Act, even THAT wasn't an option, and the fact that it IS an option now is one of the main reasons why I keep saying that SOMEDAY we will step back and appreciate how much of a healthcare legislation LEGEND Joseph Robinette Biden really is, but I know you're not here for my oversimplified political takes, so let's get back to the other thing you're not here for:

THE ENDOCRINOLOGY INFO-DUMP, July 30, 2024:

Turns out...it's possible that my overall cortisol production is still being skewed by the birth control medications I stopped taking in early June (at my own discretion, remember, because I knew they would affect the cortisol test results even though the first (mean) endocrinologist said they wouldn't, and then said that they did).

What I had read was that 72 hours off the BC meds was sufficient to avoid interference with the low-dose dexamethasone suppression test--so I went off them in advance of my appointment with the first endo, because I was anticipating the ordering of that test.

I'd also read that four weeks off the BC meds was usually sufficient to rule out any potential interferences. When my second LDDST last week showed an even higher cortisol level than the previous one (meaning, the dexamethasone had suppressed it even less), I took that to mean that no, the BC was clearly not playing a part.

Also, the lab screwed up my second 24-hour urine test by not including the total volume in the lab report (what, did they spill it or something?) so there was no way to extrapolate the necessary data...BUT my first and second set of saliva cortisol tests came back normal--even with a high cortisol concentration in my previous urine test and all my blood serum tests.

Apparently, this "saliva vs. the other bodily fluids" cortisol discrepancy has to do with the fact that the cortisol tests measure both "free" cortisol, and transcortin, which is a protein secreted by the liver that binds to cortisol. A serum cortisol test (blood test) will measure both, while urine and saliva tests are meant to measure "free" cortisol. BUT, apparently, these BC meds can cause increased production of transcortin for up to three months after stopping the medication, and that transcortin production might be reflected in the levels associated with the urine test, but NOT in the saliva test.

To definitively confirm a Cushing's diagnosis, we would need to rule out not only any potential interference with cortisol (e.g. glucocorticosteroids), but also rule out any potential interference with transcortin production (e.g. the birth control meds). And the only way to do that is to just...WAAAAAIT.

BUT WAIT, WHAT ABOUT THE PITUITARY TUMOR?

WELL...enhanced imaging seems to indicate that the growth on my pituitary gland is fluid-filled, which means it's far likelier to be a Rathke's cleft cyst (technically not a tumor) than a pituitary adenoma (technically a tumor).

I'm sick of speculating and over-explaining what it might be, so until further notice, I'm just gonna call it Otis.

The possible good news is, if the September lab work indicates that my hormone levels were just screwed up from the birth control meds, then Otis's presence might have nothing to do with anything, and therefore, I may not need surgery at all.

The downside of that scenario is that it may take my body a long time to fully recover from any deleterious effects of the BC meds on my endocrine system. And that would also likely mean that my periods would become more regular again, which means that monthly spells of sensory nightmares would become more regular as well.

On the other hand, if the cortisol tests and other lab work don't resolve after the BC is definitively out of my system, and the culprit of the issues turns out to be Otis after all...I would need surgery, but not the straightforward transsphenoidal or endoscopic endonasal surgery that I was expecting. Otis is very close to my brain stem and it might be too risky to attempt draining or removing it through the nasal canal. It's possible they'd try to attack it with radiation therapy, but usually they only do that for RCCs that recur after surgical draining, so who even knows.

I'm just gonna say right now, in terms of symptoms and my knowledge of my own experience, I have a sinking feeling that it is Otis causing the problems. But we aren't even going to be able to attempt making a better guess until mid-September.

And what sucks the most is, there's probably nothing to be done for my symptoms in the meantime. Depending on the results of the bloodwork they did today, they might give me Metformin to treat any possible underlying metabolic syndrome (which is also something I suspected early on), but other than that, it's more "hurry up and wait."

I gotta be honest...in addition to all the physical and emotional overwhelm, I feel like my commitment to unlearning internalized ableism is REALLY being tested right now.

Owning my autism was easier. It was liberating. But I'm realizing that some part of me really did want to "be the poster child for 'if [s]he can, then you can.'" Part of me thought, if I had to be autistic, I was going to be a Model Autistic who can do anything the abled neurotypicals can do. I was going to Set An Example. Not a perfect example, but a solid and consistent example of someone who maximizes her potential but stays woke and stays self-aware and checks her privilege and advocates for intersectionality.

That simply isn't true right now. I can't do everything abled neurotypicals can do. My body is tired, weak, and prone to sickness. My voice is exhausted from regular conversation. My skin is dry and itchy and my face can barely tolerate makeup. I have NO appetite, and yet I've gained so much weight, like I can't get comfortable anywhere because there's too much. My stomach and my lymph nodes feel (and are) constantly swollen, my sense of dehydration is constant and I'm not retaining water correctly.

I feel hideously, embarrassingly ineffectual.

And conventional wisdom says "don't put this on the internet, or else you won't get hired." Don't share your behind-the-scenes, don't share the cutting room floor, only share your highlight reel.

Well, I'm sorry, but if acting is "telling the truth," and if art is about "the fullest expression of the human experience," then following those "rules" seems awfully hypocritical to me. Besides, what sort of disability advocate would I be if I didn't share the truth of what's going on, and how it feels?

Disability pride doesn't have to mean being proud of every part of every disability.

In fact, pride really isn't even the right word.

Because I'm not proud. But I'm not ashamed either. I'm just real.

Being honest about what I'm going through doesn't automatically make me a better or more aspirational person, but it doesn't make me a worse person either. It doesn't make me much of anything, really, because what I'm going through does not need to be anybody else's business, but it also doesn't need to be kept a secret. It is mine to do with as I choose, and the value my story might bring to the world has nothing to do with me. It has everything to do with the people who hear it, internalize it, and take something away that's valuable to them.

I hope, if nothing else, someone does that.

[olsenmyolsen]

All Eyes On Me

Part 18 of On The Inside With Elizabeth Olsen

Word Count: ~8.5K

masterlist

Y/N POV

I decided to listen to my girlfriend Elizabeth Olsen and not have a frozen breakfast. I made buttery pancakes and scrambled eggs. Breakfast isn't my favorite meal, but it is Liz's. Well, I think every meal is Liz's favorite, if I'm being honest. But I persist! MK left halfway through, but I promised her we'd hang out soon. Anyways I still have extra batter, so if I'm feeling up for it, maybe I'll have more after I finish my two pancakes and scrambled eggs with hot sauce—the only way to do it.

I sit my butt down on my couch and place my plate and cup of tea on my coffee table. I have a dining room table, but it's a small and old plus; if it's just me here, why would I use it? Ya know?

I pull out my phone and decide to see what's going on in the world and if I should hate myself while I eat. One bite and in and fuck, why don't I make pancakes more! This is so good! Okay, new food fixation, I feel it! Tomorrow morning? Pancakes! This weekend? Pancakes! Hell yeah!

Through my pancake high and ignoring the latest news about how our planet is fucked I take a moment to think on where I'm at and how I feel. After my mom left, I felt like she and I were possibly on the most significant grounds of understanding one another in years. She told me she'd come by early afternoon so she could adequately see my space, and so we could hang out and do touristy things. It's her first time in New York, after all! So, I guess I got a couple of hours to kill.

I am also incredibly thankful and appreciative of MK for being here and supporting me. She didn't have to stay or do the things she did, but the fact that she did meant so much. As the saying goes, actions speak louder than words.

I then think about one more person. I shove another forkful of eggs into my mouth before I get up and grab the picture of Max and I. The picture MK saw last night. I return to the couch and place it next to my plate. I haven't opened it since that day. I don't know why I want it here with me. Maybe it's the guilt I feel? Perhaps it's because I'm ready? I don't know...

Before my mind can wander anymore, my phone lights up. It's Max. I guess she's on break, so time to trauma bond, am I right!? Just kidding, Max is just understanding.

Y/N: Hey, what's up?

Max: Not much. I just have a free minute, just wanted to check in with you!

Liz POV

After Max gave me a rundown of how Y/N and her mom have been over the last couple of years, I instantly feel my soul hurt for the person I love. I guess she never mentioned her mom for a reason. Max also told me the name, Davey. Max said that Y/N might bring up that name up if she talks about her mom but to not push her on it. I fill in the small blanks and figure out that it must be her dad or stepdad.

This makes me feel shitty about how I could think that MK would swoop in and take Y/N. It's stupid, I know. But Y/N is hot and my girlfriend. MK has this weird pull on her, and I don't want to lose her. So yeah, I may have texted some bitchy things, but now I'm apologizing.

I put my phone away, and as my nerves start working up my body as Max's phone tells me that we're here. This is it! I made it! A black SUV pulls out of a spot just in front of the building. Perfect! I must be wearing a stupid smile because when I look at Max, she has the same face, but she's looking at me while I was looking at an old NY building.

Max cocks an eyebrow. "You ready?" I rapidly nod and hop out of the car. Max does the same and comes to the back to open the truck for my bags and suitcases. I insisted on helping, but Max informs me that I'm the "Queen," so luggage was "beneath me." Silly, but who am I to argue? However, before Max piles everything onto or in front of her, I grab my black backpack and traveling tote.

I start to walk ahead and into the building before max yells out and stops me. "You don't know where you're going." Shit. She's right. I roll my eyes and gesture for her to lead the way instead. We get to the elevator. Max hits the button and informs me we have about 20 seconds till it arrives. Good to know. As we wait, I can see Max's mind working, and ding, she gets an idea as the doors open.

Max pulls out her phone and dials up Y/N as we step into the elevator. "Basically, I talk and talk, and then when we arrive in front of her-" Y/N answers. I like this plan. I like everything that's happening, actually! I continue to listen to Max. I only hear her side of the conversation before I get too nosy and grab her phone, putting the call on speaker. Max looks at me and mouthed the word sorry before I had her phone back.

Y/N: No, you don't need to come over. I'm alright.

Max: You eating?

Y: Pancakes and eggs. Dude, I never realized how I might have an addiction to pancakes.

Max laughs at Y/N's ridiculous comment while I smile because she made what I said.

The elevator comes to Y/N's floor, and we hop off.

M: Hey, so we still on for Avengers tonight?

Y: Yeah-

M: Is it cool if I bring someone?

Max looks at me with pure excitement.

Y: Uhh yeah, is it Flirty?

M: Someone better!

Y: Do I know them?

M: You might.

We arrive at Y/N's door, and Max motions for me to knock as she gets behind me. I give a rhythmic set of knocks before covering the peephole, so she can't see that it's us.

Y: Hold on, someones at my door.

It feels like my whole body is vibrating, waiting for her to unlock this door. Shit, I should've thought about what to say when she opens the door! "Long time no see?" No, that's lame. I could just go with the classic-

-the door swings open!

"Hey, Coffee Girl."

Y/N POV

I feel my phone slipping from my hand, but thankfully some piece of my brain realizes I need it, so I subconsciously hang up and put it in my back pocket, all while staring at the beautiful green-eyed woman smiling at me. Like giving me a genuine fucking goofy ass grin.

I take a wobbly step forward as my face begins to break. "You're supposed to be in London.." "Surprise," Liz responds in a hushed voice before we clash into one another. We let our arms wrap around one another as we let quiet tears and kisses land on our faces. I'm still in awe that she's here! My Liz is here! I get lost in the moment, and it feels like time is speeding by, but I guarantee we've just been hugging for two minutes tops. "What? How? When? I-" I stop when I see my favorite redhead pop out from behind my girl.

"You bitch!" I let go of Liz and playfully shove Max before pulling her into a hug. "Thank you!" I let Max go as I feel an arm snake its way around my body before feeling a plethora of kisses land on my cheek, causing me to squirm. I look over at the green-eyed beauty next to me. She looks straight at me and gives her classic scrunch face. God, I love her. I then see Liz's eyes dart their way down my body before her eyes go wide, staring at my chest.

I look down, expecting my boobs to be on display or something, but oops, I forgot what shirt I was wearing. I whip my head back up to see Liz's awe-struck face. "I can't believe you have this!" I crane my head towards Max because it was her idea that I get this. All I get back in return is her hiding a fit of laughter behind her hands. "Please never wear this out." Liz pleads to me in a voice that makes me want to wear it 24/7. "But it's my favorite shirt!" I whine. She and I both know that's not true. My favorite shirt is the one she gave me the night I slept over. She shakes her head, but I see the smirk coming from her.

"Show me your place, love," Liz demands, changing the conversation entirely. So not wasting any more time, I help Max with the bags and bring the girls into my place. Once inside, I immediately start to become self-conscious. It's nowhere near as big as Liz's place. Or as nice. It's a studio. I have no garden. I literally just got stuff that expresses me as a person more. Shit, what if Liz doesn't like anything. What if-

"I love it." You what now? I watch Lizard look around my place. She becomes infatuated with the books and journals clogging up my tv stand. She runs a hand along the exposed brick on the dividing wall between the two main rooms. I watch her peer her eyes into the bedroom before she turns back to face me. Wait, why is she pouting? She just said she loves it. What happened?

"What's wrong?" I ask, making my way over to the little witch. "No plants." I pull Liz into a hug to comfort her but also to hide my eyes as they roll. Of course. I feel a hand hit my arm, and I look down in shock. "Just because I don't see it doesn't mean you can just roll your eyes." How does she know? "How!" I pull her and cup her face to ask. "I'm an Avenger." She states in the most 'duh' way possible before grabbing my hand and pulling me into the kitchen.

I look back to the couch and just see Max, who has already made herself at home watching us. She puts a finger to her mouth and gags, but she knows this shit is cute. Plus, she has a special someone, too, so she can shh.

I focus my attention back on Liz as she begins searching through my kitchen cabinets and drawers. "Can I help, my love?" Liz doesn't respond. Instead, she pulls out her phone and begins typing away. I have zero idea what's happening. I try to take a peek at Liz's phone, but she pulls it away, and let me tell ya, earlier, she looked pouty. Now she looks angry.

"You're missing so many essential things, Y/N. It's killing me. You also have so many mismatched pots and pans." She holds up a blue pot I got from a neighbor, and she holds up a non-stick pan that I got from... I'm not sure where I got it from. I'm not even sure that's mine. Okay, maybe Liz has a point. "So?" Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

I watch Liz eye me up before she finishes typing on her phone and puts it away. She then looks around the kitchen and tilts her head at me. I hear a gasp come from the couch. "Y/N apologize right now. She's doing the thing." I quickly turn my head to Max and back to Liz, who is now wearing a smirk. "Okay, I'm sorry for having an unorganized kitchen. It's shameful. I know." My tone is more on the sarcastic side, but I think Liz knew I would never truly apologize. I mean, it's just knives, pots, and pans. "Good." She raises an eyebrow before she shifts back into her calm non-life-threatening self. I watched some videos about how Liz is obsessed with cooking and how she travels with her own kitchen wear, but I had no idea it was this bad.

"I ordered you all new things. And before you argue. It's more for me than you, and you know it." With that, she gives me a look. And it's just us. It's finally the two of us. Suddenly I feel a kiss fall onto my face before she gives me another one, followed by one more. I feel her push her body up against mine, and I love it. She keeps pushing, backing me up until I bump up against my kitchen counter. Liz wastes no time putting her hands on mine to stop me from moving. A tiny moan squeaks out of my lips as I feel her breath roll down my neck. I'm about to push her legs open with my own when I hear the most irradiating sound ever.

It's a cough from Max.

Why is she still here?

I feel Liz's breath against my neck, but this time it's because she is laughing and trying to hide her embarrassed face. We both forgot about her. I can't help but laugh and pull Liz into a hug. This moment is gone, and Liz's laugh is so contagious. "I'm going to excuse myself," Liz whispers to me before her red face escapes my grasp and makes her way to the bathroom, avoiding all eye contact with Max.

I turn to see my best friend gleaming at me. "Why didn't you just sneak out?" I whisper yell. "That was so hot." My face forms a look of shock and disgust. "Ew. Don't do that. That's my girlfriend, not the famous actress Elizabeth Olsen. Got it?" "Got it." Max nods, but she doesn't wipe that shit-eating grin she is wearing. "You ruined this moment," I state. "This moment wouldn't have happened without me." I groan in frustration because, once again, Max is right, and now I realize what a mess I'm in. My body missed Liz's touch a lot more than I realized.

I huff and shoot Max a face of pure anger before walking into my room just as Liz pops out of the bathroom. I take a look around, noticing my room isn't in perfect form. "Sorry." I simply state as I dig through my underwear drawer. "Don't apologize. Remember, I love your space. It's all you." She looks around, smiling before her eyes lock onto my own. The deeper I look into her eyes, the more I know she means it. I pull my gaze off her and pull out a red pair to change into. "Red, huh?" Liz notices. I feel my cheeks heat up. There's only one reason I'm changing my underwear right now, and Liz and I know it. She walks up to me and leans into my ear, and whispers. "Don't worry." Liz grabs my hand and brings it to her thigh. "I'm wearing your other red ones." She moves my hand up her leg as she begins attacking my ear. I'm not even in control of my mouth as quiet moans keep escaping and my inability to form words. My hands keeps moving up before she stops. I open my eyes to see her biting her lower lip before she kisses my nose and leaves my room in a blur.

I slowly turn towards another drawer to pull out a change of sweat shorts as well.

After a quick change, I come out to the living room to see Max and Liz finishing off the rest of the breakfast I had. They're in the middle of a conversation; well, it looks like Max is grilling Liz about MCU stuff, but Liz isn't budging. After another minute, Liz makes my presence known to Max, who quickly shuts up.

"So, what's the plan for today?" Max asks, looking at the two of us. This bitch.

"Oh, you're joining? I thought you were just Liz's chauffeur?" Liz cups a hand over her mouth as Max's jaw drops. "Fuck you." Max breathes out as she rolls her eyes and takes the dirty dishes into the kitchen. I shoot Liz a wink, letting her know we'll have our time together. I feel my phone buzz, and I pull it out. It's a text from Max.

"I'm third wheeling, aren't I?"

I have to suppress the laugh I want to let out so bad. "Who's that?" Liz pipes up. "My mom." I dodge Liz's eyes and turn to Max. "Max, could I speak to you in my room?" I turn to Liz. "Just one second." I see a wash-over worry crash onto Liz's face. Max walks into my room as I see Liz start to shimmy to get up, but I hold out a hand with my index finger raised. "One second, my love." I quickly load an 80's pop music station on my tv to drown out Max's and mine's talk.

Once Max and I are in my room, she starts. "I feel like I'm annoying you two!" I pull Max into a surprise hug. "Thank you so much for bringing her to me." Max, unsure of what to do, takes a second before wrapping her arms around me. "You're always annoying, by the way." Max shoves me out of our hug. "But I was thinking..." "What?" Max asks me in a teasing/annoyed tone. "My moms coming over soon, and I need to sit down and talk to Liz about everything. Plus, the first time she meets her, I think it'd be better if you weren't here." My voice goes extra soft at the tail end. Thankfully, Max is my best friend for a reason. "I get it." See what I mean. "But." Uh oh. "I want to watch Avengers tonight with Liz." "Okay.." "And I want her to let me talk to Chris Evans." I look at Max like she just grew three heads. "The first part deal. The second part... I'll work on it. Okay?" Max extends her hand. "Okay." We shake. "Now, this is weird. Get going." I push her shoulder as she leaves my room.

I hear her come up with an excuse to leave as I grab my 2019 journal. I must've gotten lost in thought because I didn't notice Liz turn off the tv. I didn't hear her footsteps walk up behind me. Hell, I didn't even feel her arms around my waist until she placed a gentle kiss on the back of my neck. "Coffee Girl?" Liz, let's just above a whisper. "Yeah?" I respond, staring straight ahead. "You okay?" I lower my head and turn to face my girlfriend. I look into her eyes once again. I think just today, I'm realizing how much comfort they provide me. How much strength I get from them when they shimmer that green color I love. Or how when I look into them, I see a future. I see Liz and I together. I see her laugh. I see our pain. I see the love that we share.

I smile and place a kiss on her forehead before saying the phrase no couple ever wants to hear.

"We need to talk."

Liz POV

Well, that's a phrase no couple ever wants to hear. "It's okay. I promise." Y/N whispers after cupping my face. She must've seen the look of horror and panic I let out. "Follow me." Y/N grabs onto my hand and pulls me to her bed. As much as I would love to continue what I started earlier, I don't think that's going to happen. At least for now.

"Put these on." Y/N points to a navy pair of sweats. "I'll be right back." Y/N walks into the living room, leaving me to change. After doing so, I turn my head next to me to see what she left on the bed. It's a journal. It says it's two years old, but I would've guessed more aged from the binding.

Y/N walks back into the room with a picture frame in one hand and another journal in the other. She smiles at me as she makes herself comfortable on her own bed. "Babe?" I look over to her as she makes grabby hands at me. I quickly take the hint and crawl up her bed before laying down next to her. She kisses the top of my head as I get pulled into a cuddle. "I can't believe you're here." I think Y/N let an inside thought slip out. I just squeeze my arm around her waist. "Believe it."

After a calm minute, Y/N breaks it up. "How long are you here till?"I look up at her and smile. "Till you get sick of me. I have nothing planned right now—no movies to shoot. No shows to make. I'm free." I watch as Y/N can't believe it. Instead of using words, she just pulls me closer. "What about LA and your LA house?" I think about my following words carefully. "Well, technically, it's Robbie's place right now. And I'll have to go back eventually but let's not worry about that. I'm here with you. We'll stay here as long as we need to. Okay?" Y/N nods and lifts my chin to plant soft kisses on my lips. "Okay." She unwraps herself from me so she can scoot herself up and grab the things she brought in with her. I move my body up until I sit straight so she can have my full attention.

"So I know Max told you some things. I put it together... I don't know exactly what she told you about my mom but-" "Whatever you feel comfortable telling me." I stop her so she can collect herself. Plus, it's true I want Y/N to be comfortable sharing everything with me. I don't want her to do it just because she feels like she has to. She squeezes my hand and gives me a soft smile before she grabs a journal off her desk and the one that's on the bed.

I watch Y/N's face change multiple times. She's struggling with her words. I see her eyebrows tighten as she is getting frustrated with herself. I rest my hand on her thigh, letting her know I'm here and it's okay. "Just trying to figure out how to start." I nod. "I know."  She nods back to me.

She opens her mouth and starts. "My mom and I have always had a good relationship. She always loved and cared for me no matter what. Even when it was just her and I, she worked a lot which made those early years difficult because she became a workaholic trying to support her and myself." Y/N stops herself. "Sorry, I'm rambling." I burrow into her more. "It's okay. Just say what you want to say. In any order you want."

"My mom never dated, and I know it's because of my biological dad. She never said, but I know my mom better than she thinks. So one night, when she dropped me off with my grandparents, I knew something was up. I was 6, not an idiot." Y/N laughs before continuing. "Those types of nights kept happening until one day she took me out to lunch on a workday no less. That was when I knew this was a big deal. That's the day I met Davey. A man who deserved the title of father." Y/N brushes her hand over the cover of her 2019 journal, smiling. "The day I met him, he gave me a choice. He said you can either call me Davey or Dad but never David. I remember thinking that's a crazy way to start a conversation off with a 6-year old. But he knew. He knew he would do anything to protect my mom and I. He would love us and treat me as his own. He wanted me to be safe and to grow up knowing it wasn't just my mom and I anymore."

I don't think Y/N feels the tears coming down her cheeks. I raise a hand and start brushing them off her. She responded to my touch by laughing and kissing my palm. "Sorry. I didn't even know." I don't say anything. I just lean up and kiss her.

"I loved that man." Y/N clears her throat and pulls up the picture frame she initially brought with her. Inside the frame is a photo of Max and Y/N from a Halloween party. It looks to be years old. She unclasps the back of the frame and pulls the picture out.

The photo wasn't just of Max and Y/N. She unfolds it, and another person is revealed to be there as well as a second smaller picture. I almost don't recognize who the third person in the Halloween photo is until it hits me. It's Naomi. Y/N's ex. I didn't know they went this far back... Y/N grabs the two pictures in one hand and puts the piece of the frame onto the floor.

She takes a glance at the Halloween photo and places it on the floor as well. I still haven't seen the small picture. She's kept it facedown this entire time. She looks at me and grabs one of my hands. She takes the photo and gently places it in my hand before she lets go. "This is the last picture he and I took together. We took it from his old polaroid camera, and days later he..." Y/N begins to cry again. I go to reach out to her, but she stops me. "W-When you're done-e with the picture put it back in my hand." Y/N turns her head away, leaving me alone with the facedown photo.

Y/N POV

"How's it looking, kiddo?" I look up from the photo of the man giving me a big grin and two thumbs up and put on a fake smile for Davey. "I think it's time you got a haircut?" I sarcastically reply, earning a hearty laugh from the bald man before me.

I place the polaroid into his hand as I pop myself into the chair next to his hospital bed. As he brings the photo to his eyes, I can't bare to watch his reaction. I put my arms and head down onto his bed.

Every time I see him, he's looking weaker, frail, tired. You name it. That's why he's moved around so much before winding up here. Room 414.

Our monthly pictures have slowly started to become something grim as appose to joyful. We both know it. Davey hasn't said anything about the picture yet, and that's fine. I'm growing tired of pretending everything is a-okay.

My mind has wandered again as I hear the muffled beeps of the monitors and machines keeping my Dad alive. I close my eyes, wanting the beeping to stop. Not for him but for me. I've wante- "Kid?"

I slowly lift my head and put my hand on Davey's right arm. "Yeah?" He throws on a smile and taps my hand. "You weren't listening, were you?" I shake my head and make myself open my ears and watch him. Instead, he doesn't talk. He lets us sit here in silence. After a few good minutes, I reach over and flip on the tv, stopping once we get to the game show network. They're showing reruns of The Price is Right. It's better than a soap opera or a boring superhero movie, so this will do.

_

I can't remember if we're on the third or fourth one in a row, but it's when Davey breaks up the silence. "Moms coming later tonight?" "Yeah." "Where will you be?" "At the house." "Doing?" I roll my eyes. Even after everything, he still wants me to do my school work and write. "Essays, stories, and songs," I reply less than enthusiast. Davey turns to me, nudging my arm. "Exactly." I give him a soft nudge back. The last time I did that, it was too hard, and I left a bruise on his arm.

"Anything new?" He asks, pointing to my bag. "Some stuff, but I don't know." I shrug at him, but I know he won't let this go, so I grab my bag and pull out one of the journal he gifted me last year. I open it to the most section and slowly begin flipping through until I find something I want him to read.

April 26th, 2019

Don't Wanna Know (Don't Wanna Know - Bo Burnham)

How are you feeling? Do you like the show? Are you tired of it? Never mind, I don't wanna know Are you finding it boring? Too fast? Too slow? I'm asking, but don't answer 'cause I don't wanna know

Do I have your attention? Yes or no? I bet I'd guess the answer but I don't wanna know Am I all in the background? Are you on your phone? I'd ask you what you're watching but I don't wanna know

Is there anyone out there? Or am I all alone? It wouldn't make a difference, still, I don't wanna know I thought it'd be over by now but I got a while to go I'd give away the ending but you don't wanna kn-

I watch Davey's eyes read and reread the short song over and over until he finally closes it and turns to me. "Are all your songs going to be about me?" His question isn't a joke. Him and I know the 'show' in the song is watching him die. I dart my eyes away from his own unable to answer.

I stare at the cold floor until he speaks up again. "It's just a bad wrap, kid." I turn to his kind eyes and warm smile. "That's all it is." He gives me back my journal before it's time for me to leave him. I make sure his tv remote and water are near him. I hug and kiss goodbye like I do every time. I make sure my exit has always been the same. I feel like if one thing changes, then my life would change.

I didn't even notice that he made the change that day.

He didn't keep the picture like he always did. Instead, he slipped the Polaroid into my journal. I didn't find it until I went to write that night.

The night he was gone.

Liz POV

I put the picture back into Y/N's hand. Without looking at it, she flips it over before turning to face me. "He got sick when I was in high school. But then he beat it. He was a real fighter.." Y/N picks up the gran next to her and begins putting the whole thing back together. Hiding the small picture and all.

"Around the first time he got sick, that's when the crack in my mom's and I's relationship started to form. My mom threw herself into making everything better. Or at least that's what she thought. That included working triple the amount and not caring for anyone's opinions but her own. She still loved Davey and me, but it's like I couldn't breathe around her anymore. I couldn't do anything. So once I knew Davey was better, I graduated, and I got the fuck out. I know it crushed my Dad, but I just couldn't do it. So you can only imagine how I felt when he took a turn for the worse while I was in college."

Y/N doesn't realize it, but she's been gripping the two journals in her hand with such force I'm afraid their about to tear apart. I gently lift my hand from her body and onto the journals causing her to panic before she sees what I'm doing. She lets her body relax and gives the journals to me.

"If it weren't for that man, you wouldn't be seeing these. He encouraged this." I take them and begin flipping through them. To say I'm stunned is an understatement. I never knew my Coffee Girl had all of this hiding from me. It's laced with short stories, poems, and songs. All original, as far as I can see.

She never mentioned she was a writer or a musician, maybe? I take a glance around the room as if she can read my mind she answers. "Closet." She shines a smile at me, and I respond by kissing her. "Thank you for sharing all of this with me. You didn't have to, but I'm proud that you did. I truly, truly appreciate this Y/N. I love you." I give her another kiss before pulling back, and she's crying. But this time, it's different.

"Babe?" I cup her face and bring it to me. I want to ask questions, but maybe it's just all the emotions working their way through her. So instead of disrupting her, I let her cry in my arms.

After a couple of minutes, she pulls away and gives me a kiss that causes a new wave to course through my body. "I'm so happy." Y/N eeks out. "I started crying because that was the first time we've said I love you in person. You saying it made me realize how much I love you too. I love you so fucking much, Liz. You have no idea. I'm so happy with you, and please, thank you for making me safe enough to tell you and show you, Davey." I listen to her words hit my ears. Shit. This is the first time we've said I love you in person. I open my mouth to speak up, but I'm cut off. "Davey would've loved you."

Y/N POV

"I would've loved him too." I'm smiling like an idiot right now. I know I am. This girl right here. This Lizard. She has my heart, and I have hers. I watch as her she has a finger on a page inside one of the journals.

"Which one is that?" I ask her once both of our eyes have dried a bit. She looks at me confused before she knows what I'm talking about it. She opens the journal and shows me.

It's a revitalization of an old poem I came up with in high school called All Eyes On Me.

"Are their parts missing?" Liz runs her finger along the words. I watch as she begins to quietly read it out loud before she confirms that, yep, words and phrases are exempt.

"Yeah. I wasn't happy with it." "I like it. Sounds like it could be updated." She says, looking at me with her best puppy dog eyes. I laugh and kiss her at her attempt. "Maybe another day." I grab my journals and place them on the floor before I pull Liz close to me. "My mom and I are good now, by the way. Yesterday was tough, but today will be better." "Today?" Liz ask me, and oops, I didn't tell her. "Yeah, my mom is still in town."

Liz, in an instant, is up and out of the bed. "You're just telling me now?!?" I get startled by Liz's actions and lift myself up. "Well, I was getting there! Plus, you weren't even supposed to be here!" I shoot back in a teasing way. "When is she coming over? Should I even be here? She doesn't know about us. Y/N!" Liz is starting to panic.

Don't get me wrong. I'm nervous as hell, but Liz is here now. I'm not kicking her out or hiding her. So today is the day my mother is going to meet my girlfriend, Elizabeth Chase Olsen.

I get up and pull Liz back into bed. I let her rest herself on top of me while I stroke her hair. I continuously tell her that everything is going to be fine. I tell her that my mom will love her and that if one thing goes wrong, I'll fix it. It took a couple of minutes, but my Lizard is back.

We look at each other and press our foreheads together, only to be interrupted by my phone. Liz grabs it for me, and her eyes go a bit wide, so I have a feeling I know who it is. "What's it say?" "She'll be here in twenty." Liz hands me my phone and charges into the living room to grab a new set of clothes.

Liz POV

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I can't believe I'm about to meet Y/N's mom. I want to throw up and hide. Oh God, what if her mom doesn't like me? I don't want to be the reason their relationship goes back to being on ice. What do I even wear?

"Y/N! What do I wear!" I yell out, letting my nerves get the best of me. "Hey, you don't have to yell." I turn to my side to see a smiling Y/N. Shit, how long has she been there? I look at her chest and roll my eyes. She is not wearing that shirt out!

After going through my luggage together and practically fighting Y/N on her t-shirt choices, we're finally both getting dressed in simple outfits.

We both decided that t-shirt and jeans would be appropriate for today. While I'm wearing this, Y/N is wearing a similar pair of jeans out instead of a simple black shirt, she opted for a baggy forest green t-shirt. I watch from the couch as Y/N is running in and out of the bathroom.

Y/N POV

Once I'm finally done freshening up, I walk into the living room to join Liz. Okay, fuck me. Liz is sitting on the couch, legs spread, feet firmly on the ground while she fiddles on her phone. Her beautiful hair covers her shoulders, and I want to do nothing more than to pounce on her at this moment.

However, she interrupts my impure thoughts but calling me beautiful and telling me how much she loves my shirt. "Thank you for changing," Liz says, kissing me on the couch. "You know I would've." I wink back at her. I let my hand slide down her side and give her hip a squeeze earning a playful yelp from Liz. "Y/N, we're not doing this right now." I go to whine but knocking from my front door stops me.

I get up and reach my arm out to help Liz up, but she shakes her no and runs into the bathroom. "Liz!" I go to chase after her, but the knocking doesn't stop. "Liz, get out here!" I yell out before opening the front door to my mom.

"Hi, Pumpkin." She greets me and pulls me into a hug which I more enjoy this time around. She walks into my place as I close the door behind her. As I turn back, I watch my mom almost stumble over a suitcase on the floor.

Shit.

"Going somewhere?" My mom looks at me with some concern.

Okay. My girlfriend is hiding in my bathroom—a girlfriend who is world famous. A girlfriend, my mom, has no idea even exists. Oh, God. How do I do this?

"No, it's-" The door to the bathroom closes, causing me and my mom to turn our eyes to my scared Liz.

"It's mine. I apologize. I should've moved it." Liz extends her hand out to my mom, who kindly accepts it. "Hi, I'm Elizabeth." "Hi, Elizabeth. I'm Y/N's mother, Y/M/N." Okay, so far, so good. I watch their hands drop, and Liz begins fiddling with her rings.

"Y/N, why didn't you tell me you had someone over?" Once again, Liz speaks for me. "Oh, don't blame Y/N. I showed up this morning unannounced to surprise her. I had no idea her mother was in town. I'm so sorry." Liz dips her shoulders down in an attempt to be friendly to my mom. I scoot myself closer to Liz, hoping to provide her some comfort.

"Oh well, it looks like Y/N got two surprise visits. How she's still standing, I have no idea." My mom, thankfully, is also being nice as she turns away from Liz and I and begins looking around my space with actual care this time. Liz and I are standing there watching my mom. I reach down and grab Liz's hand. Holding her hand calms her down, and I need her right now too.

"Would you like any water or tea?" I ask my mom, who cautiously examines the pictures I have around the room. "Tea?" I scoff. "It's new. Thank Liz." "Liz?" My mom turns back to me. "Elizabeth," I reply, pointing to Liz, who awkwardly waves at my mom. My mom gets an 'ahhh' face. "Your friend Elizabeth." I can feel Liz's eyes make their way to me.

"Actua-" "What kind of tea would you like, Y/M/N?" Liz asks once again, interrupting me while dropping my hand. "I'll take whatever black tea Y/N has, but you shouldn't do it, dear?" Liz protests. "I insist." Liz speeds into the kitchen as I watch my mother look at me before she starts making her way to the couch.

Not knowing what to do, I end up bringing my mom to my messy bedroom. "Y/N, you have guests here, and this is how you decide to live?" I'll take the scolding right now as I'm trying to find a way to distract my mom so I can talk to Liz. "Mom, you remember my journals?" My mom whips her head to me and softly grabs one from my desk. "You kept them?" "Of course." I hear Liz grumble something from the other room. Shit. "I'll be right back." I leave my mom alone to take a trip down memory lane.

Liz POV

She hates me.

Now here I am, getting her stupid black tea as an attempt to make her warm up to me. Y/N's friend. Whatever, Y/N's not telling her today.

As I'm grabbing her mom a plate and spoon. I let out a frustrated sigh. "Fuck." I grumble under my breath. I don't even know how her mom takes her tea. Fuck. I'm so stupid. I shouldn't even be here. My suitcase almost tripped and killed her. Of course, the week I decide to-

Suddenly a pair of arms wrap around me, startling me. Y/N can't be doing this. Her mom could see. I start to push away Y/N's arms which causes her to hold me tighter. "It's okay. It's me. I'm here. Liz. Please." She's whispering. She doesn't want her mom to know that her own girlfriend, sorry, friend is a mess. A mess that she has to take care of.

"Y/N, get off me!" I finally grip her hands and push them away from me. I hear Y/N take a step back, and her breathing change. "Liz.." "Stop Y/N. I'm your friend right now, and right now, I'm getting your mom her tea." Y/N takes a step up next to me and bends down, so I see her face. "Liz, look at me." She calmly asks me, but I don't budge. "Liz." She reaches her hand out to me. I don't take it. I take a step away from her she takes my original place, still looking at me.

"Baby, talk to me." Y/N is starting to beg. "She hates me." I look to Y/N's eyes. They're filled with confusion and hurt. Care and love. "She doesn't hate you, Liz. She just doesn't know you." "She thinks I'm your friend." "Because I didn't get the chance to tell her who you are and what you mean to me." "She-" "Liz. Who cares what she thinks." "I do-"

"Elizabeth. Listen to me." I shut up at the sound of my full first name. Y/N takes a step closer to me so our faces our inches apart and takes my hands into her own. "My mother does not hate you. My mother has no idea who you are. I know who you are. I do not hate you. Liz. You're my world. You're my future. Trust me. No matter what my mom says or does, that will never change. We will never change because I love you with my whole heart." Y/N takes my left hand and places it over her heart. "Now, Liz, we are going to give my mom her stupid tea, and we are going to tell her together. And in case you need a reminder." Y/N drops my hands and pulls me into a kiss. It's sensual and tender. It's a kiss that makes me smile against her lips. A kiss that reminds me, yes. I'm her girlfriend. Yes, I want a future with her, and yes, who cares what her mom has to say? We both pull out and catch our breaths.

Y/N POV

"Do you need another reminder?" Liz opens her eyes and looks up at me before nodding her head. I give her another significantly shorter kiss, and when we break from that one, Liz has her nose scrunched up and a smile on her face. "I love you." She whispers to me, causing the wings on my heart to flap. "I love you too," I whisper back. After a beat of comfortable silence, Liz asks me how my mom likes her tea, and honestly, I have zero idea. So Liz decides to grab everything imaginable that could go into a tea to bring to her mom.

Liz and I both stop when we see my mom waiting in the middle of the couch. She's on her phone. Probably answering work emails or on Facebook. We slowly continue placing everything in front of her. "Elizabeth?" My moms ask, not looking up from her phone. "Could you sit next to me, dear?" Liz does as asked, leaving me standing in the middle of the room.

"Elizabeth." My mom finally looks up from her phone and turns towards Liz. "Are you happy?"

Liz POV

The question threw me off, so since I can't formulate words, I just nod my head. "Y/N makes me the happiest person I've ever been." There are the words!

Y/N's mother gently takes my hands into her own. "How long have you two been dating?" I look to Y/N before I firmly answer. "Less than a month." Is that how long it's been? "But it feels like I've known Y/N for way longer. Like my whole life. She treats me with such care, and love, and how she makes me feel and understands me is something I've never had with anyone else." I conclude my ramble that I didn't mean to start. 

"And you love her?" I take my eyes away from the woman before me to look at my Coffee Girl. "I do." I look back to Y/N's mother. "I do love her. But before-" A raised hand stops me. "You don't need to justify your love. Y/N here knows that. Her Dad told me he loved me on our second date."

I look to Y/N, who understands my face. "My mom means Davey. And yeah, it's true." I watch from my peripheral vision Y/N's mom looked at her in shock. "Yes, mom, Liz knows about Davey."

Suddenly I'm being pulled into a hug as her mom begins whispering into my ear. When we pull out of the hug, I blink my eyes a few times before looking at Y/N.

I come to the conclusion that it may not be today or tomorrow. Not next month or the month after, but whenever I do get married, it will be to her.

Y/N POV

I don't know what my mom said to Liz, but her green eyes are shining with a new twinkle in them.

My mom let go of my girlfriend's hand, and I let Liz's body crash into mine. It only lasts a few seconds before my mother pipes up. "I don't know about you two, but I'm starving. So shall we get this show on the road?" Liz laughs into my neck before I peel her away. "Yes, mom, I'm sure Liz can eat." I look to Liz, who looks offended before I tilt my head. "I mean... I could." She shrugs and begins fixing her hair while I grab everything I need for today.

_

It only took a few moments, but we're finally about to walk out the door when Liz stops me. My mom is already out into the hall when I turn back to watch Liz. She opens up her suitcase and grabs two pairs of sunglasses and two LA Dodgers hats. I smile. She thought to bring one for me. Liz sees my smile as hers grows bigger.

I know she worries about how I'll feel hiding in public with her, but I don't mind. I mean, I do, but I understand. Liz isn't ready, and everyone still thinks she's with Robbie, and there have only been speculation that she's anything more than straight. So I'll put on the sunglasses and hat until she's ready, which I easily slip on.

Once we walk out, lock up and join my mom waiting for the elevator. She looks at us like we've grown 8 heads. "The sunglasses I get but the Dodgers?" I almost laughed at how confused her question sounded. "It's my home team," Liz replies with a childlike joy in her voice. My mom simply nods at that. I give Liz an encouraging smile as I make my hand hold hers.

The doors to lift open, making us pile in. As we enjoy the ride down, my mom turns to Liz and me. "Y/N, I really am happy that you have found someone. Someone right for you." "Thanks, mom." She smiles at me and turns to - "And Ms. Olsen. I look forward to getting to know you more." "Me too." Liz shines in her answer while my jaw drops. I look down at my girlfriend as it takes a few seconds to register, but once the words hit Liz's ears, my hands gets squeezed by Liz. "Did she just..?"

My mom, seemingly content with what she just said, walks out the doors as soon as they open, leaving Liz and I stunned.

Part 19

[sophism84]

You know we all arrive here on this planet without a guide book and we spend our lives trying to find out why we are here. And after this very long night of mine, I think I have figured my reason why I’m here. So like when I died, I was arguing w someone who literally was like you have to go back. And I was before then and just swelled up and showed them, look this is what I’m living through, I don’t want this anymore don’t make me go back. And they were like let me show you. But the sky was grey that day. The sun was not shining. They said the sun would shine tomorrow when I woke up. I said I was too sad, I couldn’t do it. It didn’t matter they waited for me to say yea. So I woke up to a nurse, an intubation tube and strapped to a bed. I don’t know how to describe those first five minutes other than why the fuck am I strapped down? Lol I can’t breathe lol

Anyway, I’ve met some wild people on the internet. People who are international, I would never speak to them in my normal life. We don’t run in the same circles. But these conversations apparently carry influence. To the point where I’ve heard my words in rhymes set to music, playing through my ear pod at work. And I’m like damn I like this song, then as the week goes on you remember. As if you’re brain is just saying “lol you like this because” this most recent memory escapade where it just HAD to remind me I have talked to this person lol made my memory of something that happened over ten years ago possibly so real.

I was talking to this person, who I now know who they are cause, anyway we were talking about our childhood, and I was like “no sorry I never grew up w that stuff my school was poor” and lord was it. We had teachers who hit us for discipline, my fifth grade teacher would crank the ac down to 55 if that possible, and yell at us that we were retarded and that he bets ours moms still wipe our butts, I remember my tummy grumbling and being so tired hungry and cold I just wanted to die lol and heck yes I reported him. Lol I just got moved classrooms where he walked me inbetween rooms where he put his hand on the small of my back pushed me into the new room and told his friend the new teacher I needed a teacher who “talked nicer” lol cause IM THE PROBLEM lol okay!

Anyway someone close to me in 2000 did something illegal legally lol which is funny that saved my life. I never knew they like actually loved me until they dd this and everything happened and now that I look back the industry they worked in and the knowledge they had, they def stuck their neck out. Anyway this person was in need. For something that was entirely out off my control. And I couldn’t do a thing. But I answered a couple more questions for this person on the internet. I don’t remember if I asked straight out. But this person on the internet helped out ny person. And how I found out was I was w my person and they were explaining what was going on now, and they said the thing that made it all possible. And let me tell you it didnt fully hit me in that moment. But I did feel like I had a secret I could never tell a soul, cause it might go away lol but damn did it throw my mind into wtf that’s not real like absolutely no way haha that’s insane. Lol but the craziest thing. My person and I are not close anymore. And they will never know that the reason they’re good now, is cause I talked w someone on the internet. But how do you repay someone for possibly saving your life or I guess literally. They don’t need to know how it happened to them and if they ever did there would be so many questions I couldn’t answer and they may never believe me cause it’s so crazy how could it be?

This is also the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me. Out of any conversations I’ve had w so many people. I’ve heard more songs I would like to admit after my convos. Anyway. I guess that’s why I’m here? To talk to people and just see them live out their lives. And no one will know but me. Lol cause this is why I’m here. Not to be an asshole, but I’m tired. I don’t really wanna not be here anymore lol this shit not fun anymore.

On an unrelated note. I hate that we exist at the same time. I can’t tell you the depths of sadness when I realized everything and came to the conclusion. The one I have needed to arrive at. I will never admit it to your face. But I am so hurt and angry at god that we exist in the same time. Did you have to show up? Why would god do this to me?

The mostest best lovely thing is you might read this and you will never know it’s about you. And that makes me feel better.

[literatikoo]

Jess Mariano's alleged communication problems

If there is one thing the Gilmore Girls fandom agrees upon, whether you're team Jess or Dean or Logan, it's that Jess isn't great at communicating. There's just a consensus that he's not great at discussing his problems and that's the number 1 reason why his and Rory's relationship blew up in their face in season 3. But... this is a (somewhat) unfounded complaint? Don't get me wrong, I know Jess can be harsh and rude and really knows how to hit the nail on the head sometimes but there are also multiple instances where he talks after being pushed a little. Like every single time he's talked to Luke about Rory problems ("The girls I like don't give a damn about me," "I told her I loved her" and the infamous swan episode) or when he tells Rory, a girl he barely knows, that his mom doesn't want him back for Christmas.

The problem with Jess is that he picks and chooses who to communicate too. He definitely doesn't talk about Liz to Luke because he knows that Luke just doesn't believe that Liz is a bad person and a neglectful mother. And seriously, we've seen Luke enable Liz' terrible behaviour multiple times on the show, do you really think he would've believed whatever Jess had to say about her? He talks to Rory about Liz that one time and she doesn't believe him either and both we and Jess know that she has a right to that because she's never met Liz, but this is still enough for Jess to never bring her up again (at least from what we see) because he's a 17 year old kid with a terrible relationship with his parents. NO 17 year old kid who's been treated bad by their parents would want to open up about it because it's pretty strongly ingrained in us that having negative emotions against your parents is WRONG. On the other hand, Jess knows that Luke sees his and Rory's relationship and may even help because he has his own unique relationship with the Gilmore Girls, which is why he's much more open about Rory and even seeks advice on occasion.

Now, let's talk about Jess' less than stellar communication moments:

1. Lying about school and Walmart: Jess skives off school a LOT to work at Walmart and save up money. He doesn't tell anyone about it. Why? Because for everyone else in Stars Hollow, and for most of us too, school is important and education is a positive thing needed for growth. But who knows how often Jess went to school before SH, we already know he has a bad relationship with the educational system but why? When he goes back to NY in s2 it's obvious he's not going to school and we know Liz moved around a lot so he may be a lot more behind in school than we know. Yes, he's smart and he reads a lot but that's not enough to do well in school; you need to be able to conform a fair amount and I don't think Jess even went enough to know that. Jess already wasn't planning on going to college and he knows that living with Luke is temporary, which is why he puts more importance into saving up money. He was already working for the future, just in a different way from everyone else. It's obvious that he also wasn't planning to flunk out of school, it happened because he wasn't attending enough not because he was failing (which pisses me off so much don't even get me started). He was going to graduate and then he was going to use the money he saved up while looking for a job that suited him. And that's a pretty solid plan honestly, especially since he didn't have the luxury to suddenly decide to go to 4 year college because his girlfriend told him too like Dean. But this is something else he just couldn't talk about to Luke or Rory, who both think he's capable of great things within the academic sphere. Mind you, once Luke found out he was skipping school he didn't deal with things in the best way either. He stole his car, effectively cutting off Jess' last bit of independence. I really feel like Jess was just waiting to graduate before he had THE talk with Rory about their future, and it was obvious he was thinking longterm ("22.8 miles"). That is before everything goes to shit.

2. Keg! Max!: Let me preface this by saying that Jess definitely made irreversible mistakes in this episode... but it wasn't for the lack of trying. This is the episode that he finds out he's not graduating and we can see him struggling with this information, he's tense and angry and his emotions are simmering. His interactions with Rory, which are usually so easygoing, are surrounded by this air of finality. At this moment, he knows he's going to lose her and his home with Luke because that's what the deal was. But he still goes with her to that party and he still does the bare minimum of mingling. Throughout the party he tells Rory that he wants to leave, I'm guessing to talk to her about what happened. But they don't (this is NOT Rory's fault btw, she had no way to know what happened either) and instead Jess' emotions get the better of him. This is the first of the two instances where we really see how non communicative Jess can be. However I still maintain that if Dean hadn't gotten involved, Jess and Rory would've been able to talk. (fuck Dean)

3. Jess leaves: This is the second case where we see him being truly non communicative, and unfortunately I don't have much to say in his defence. Except that he probably was still reeling from losing his home and meeting his Dad and just didn't know how to put that insane amount of emotion into words. He also probably thought that Rory just didn't want to talk to him anymore because of how terribly he treated her, especially since he was just going to give her more bad news. He could see himself self destructing, and didn't want Rory to be collateral damage.

4. Smaller instances (Swan song, Not calling Rory, fighting with Lorelai): Okay, I think the swan incident was Rory's fault, because he was telling her the truth and just didn't want to get into it in front of Emily. But she wasn't ready to hear it until she talked to Dean, which honestly was a sucky move on her part. The not calling her when he said he would while they were dating in that one random episode was also a similar misunderstanding. The thing in common with both of these instances was that he was ready to learn afterwards; he said he was willing to go back to Emily's house and he bought them tickets to the Distillers and from what the show tells us they had a lot more consistent date nights after that. This was Jess' first proper relationship and he was really trying. Now the Lorelai thing... he just didn't want her in his business. They had no relation to each other and she was very condescending to him the first time they met, he wasn't great either but when an adult talks to you the way she did after you've just been uprooted at your mothers whims, you tend to hate them a little. And honestly I always thought that Jess being weirded out by Lorelai's involvement in his and Rory's relationship was more normal 17 year old behaviour than Dean being overly friendly with her.

So, in conclusion, because he made two big fatal communication mistakes, he's labelled as the broody non talking type. When we see most of the characters actually do the same (Rory drops out of Yale and cuts off ties with her mother, Lorelai sleeps with Christopher after months of miscommunication with Luke, Luke doesn't tell Lorelai, his fiance, that he has a daughter), seriously, they've all made mistakes and this doesn't diminish the mistakes that Jess has made and the hurt he has caused, but he also doesn't deserve to have non communicative as a personality trait. If it was seriously that big of a problem, he wouldn't have been able to grow from it that quickly (by the end of s4) and by reading self help books of all things. I also think it comes off like that because he was in the show for so little time, and that's what the writers chose to focus on.

So tldr, Jess isn't as non communicative as the show wants us to believe and he definitely isn't broody.

[imaginationintowords]

Folklore [song series]

invisible strings

Modern Day AU! Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff; Steve Rogers x OC!Reader

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album Folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years

Word count: 3401

[ a/n: thank you so much for all the love and support. We’re almost done with this series! If I forgot to tag you please let me know! Also the ending is a bit lackluster but decided to save the best one for something special for the last chapter]

Age: 21

Year: June/July 2015

Location: CA & NY

"Thank-you all for coming and christening our new place," Thor thanks everyone, as he and Loki stood up at the dining table in their lit up backyard.

"Now there's one person I want to thank, my love," Thor said, reaching his hand out to Wanda who was sat to his left, Loki took his seat back down, "My love, I just want to thank-you for being by my side these last two years. I have never been as happy as I am with anyone else. Now I'm not very good with my words, but what I do know is how I feel about you. The love I have for you exceeds anything else."

"So, I just need to ask you this one question," he says, bending down on one knee, holding Wanda's left hand, while holding the ring box in the other, "Will you, Wanda Maximoff marry me?

"Yes," she cried out, throwing her arms around Thor's neck.

Everyone got up to cheer the newly engaged couple.

Steve and Elizabeth laid naked in her bed, comfortably in each other's presence after the night's activities.

"I can't believe Wanda and Thor are engaged," Elizabeth said, as Steve rubbed her arm as she laid on his chest.

"He's been talking about it for the last year," Steve tells her, "Said he didn't want to scare her off."

"Guess I'm going to have to find a new roommate," she jokes.

"Well actually, I was thinking."

"You better not be proposing to me post sex, while we're naked in bed," Elizabeth playfully jabbed his chest, looking up at him from his chest.

"No, no," Steve lets out a hearty laugh, "Not yet. We still have time for that."

"I was actually thinking, why don't we get a place together. After graduation," Steve suggests.

"What about your job?"

"I can commute," he says, "I'll be done with school in May. You still have law school after graduation, and I have no doubt Stanford is going to accept you into their law program, so you don't have to move."

"What if I don't get accepted?"

"I highly doubt you won't, but if you don't, I'm sure Columbia will snatch you up. And I'd follow you, wherever you go."

"Really?" Elizabeth asked, surprised he would even say that.

"Yeah. There's a lot of architect firms out there, and I'm sure my boss will give me a nice recommendation."

"I couldn't ask that of you Steve," Elizabeth said, getting off of his chest to sit up, grabbing the blanket to cover her chest.

"Which is why I'm offering. I want to do that Liz. This right here," he sits up, and gestures to the both, "This is all I want. So please, if it comes time for that, just let me."

"Okay. Promise you won't resent me?" She asks, feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

"Never," he seriously says, pulling her in for a kiss, and back into his arms.

As they laid in bed, Steve notices Liz is lost in her thoughts.

"Whatcha thinking about?"

"Us, and everything that's lead us to this moment. Like there were some invisible strings leading me to you," she tells him.

"Yeah, you're correct," he ponders.

"Like everything that's happened, happened for a reason. We weren't supposed to be with each other then otherwise we probably wouldn't have made it out of high school."

"You don't think?" Steve asked.

"No, because we wouldn't have been the people we are now. Let's be real here Steve, you and I are not Bucky or Peggy. We're dreamers. Full on happy ending believing people who happened to be with realists at the time. We would've been so naive about the world outside of Brooklyn," Elizabeth says.

"We had never truly experienced pain in the way that we did. If we didn't go through senior year the way that we did, we wouldn't be here. Not specifically together or in California. But we would be stuck in a life where we forced ourselves to be happy. Where we didn't have room to grow. Room to experience a different way of life. We would've been who we were as 16 year olds. And don't get me wrong but that's no way to be."

"I'm glad this happened when it did," she says tilting her head to look at Steve's face.

"Me too," he smiled kissing the top of her head.

"Wow, my arm is so tired from lugging this ring around," Wanda announces walking into Elizabeth's room where she was packing things into a suitcase.

"Must be so exhausting," Liz teases as Wanda takes a seat on her bed.

"Incredibly," Wanda smiled, "How's the packing going?"

"Good, I have everything I'll need for the next two weeks," Liz tells her, "You guys are flying in two days before Steve's birthday right?"

"Yup! Thor seems to be more excited about Steve turning 21 than he is," Wanda laughs, "Next up will be you next month. Vegas won't be ready for us."

"Thor really is going out for all of our 21st birthdays, is he."

"He's excited we're all legally allowed to drink," Wanda says.

"So," Wanda shifted in her seat, "Are you guys going to the baby shower?"

"Yeah we are," Liz nodded her head, "Things have been better, and Steve really wants to be there for Bucky, and so do I."

"How are you feeling about it all?"

"Honestly, if Bucky is happy then so am I."

"It doesn't bother you even the slightest that he's having a baby with the woman he cheated on you with?"

"No," Liz shakes her head, "We've both moved on and grew from our situation. I'm happy with Steve, truly 100% happy. I know in my heart that Steve is the one."

"Whoa, wait, back that up," Wanda immediately shot up from her spot on the bed, "He's the one?"

"Yeah," Liz bascule smiles, her cheeks turning a slight pink.

"I mean, I knew that you loved him, but I don't think you've ever said out loud that he was the one."

Elizabeth shrugs her shoulders trying to fight off the huge grin that wants to spread across her face, "Well he is."

"Wow, umm this is great news," Wanda says looking around the room.

"What's wrong?" Liz asks taking in Wanda's sudden mood change.

"I just," Wanda coughed, trying to fight back the ball in her throat, her eyes tearing up, "I'm so happy for you. God this ring is making me incredibly emotional."

"Aw Wands," Elizabeth pulled her into a hug.

"You just deserve to be with someone who truly thinks the world of you and would move those worlds for you," Wanda cries in Liz's shoulder, "I just remember you telling me all about the shit you went through with Bucky in high school, and then the crap he put you through freshman year. You were just so over the idea of love. Even with steve you were so cautious, so just to hear you say that he's the one. I'm just so incredibly happy."

Elizabeth hugged Wanda tightly, tears streaming down her face. It meant the world to her to hear Wanda say those things. She felts so incredibly lucky to have a friends like her in her life.

"I better be your maid of honor," Wanda teased pulling away and wiping her tears, "Because you already know you're mine."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"We still need to get a baby shower gift for tomorrow," Elizabeth told Steve as they lounged around his childhood bedroom. Steve was sat at his desk sketching, while Elizabeth laid in his bed reading a book.

"I can do that if you want," Steve offered, not wanting to make Elizabeth uncomfortable no matter how many times she's told him she was fine.

"Somehow I don't think I can trust you getting the correct gift," Elizabeth teased.

"Babies like legos right?" He teased back, getting up to join her on the bed, laying his head down on her stomach.

"We can go together, I still need to get a few things for the party next weekend," she said playing with his hair.

Steve hummed in response, feeling himself getting tired, "A quick little nap and we'll go."

"Sounds good," she smiled at the man snuggled up on her.

The next day the couple were walking into the Barnes' backyard, hand-in-hand with a gift bag.

They were both instantly greeted by Bucky's mother Winnie.

"Oh you two made it!" She enthusiastically greeted them, pulling them both into a hug.

"Of course. We wouldn't have missed it," Steve smiled at her.

"Thank-you," she turned to Liz and grabbed her hand, "both of you. James really appreciates it. We all do. Especially with everything that has happened, he's going to need his best friends."

"You don't have to thank us," Liz says, "We'll always be there for Bucky. No matter what happens."

"Well thank-you," she smiles, and then turns to Steve, "Steve the men have been sent inside, so you can see your way inside."

"Already getting pushed aside," he jokes.

He placed a kiss on Elizabeth's cheek, "I'll be inside if you need me."

She nodded her head, then glanced around the yard and caught eye contact with an old high school classmate, Natasha's friend, rolling her eyes at the couple.

She cleared her throat, "Where do the gifts go?"

"Over at that table where Rebecca is at," Winnie smiled, and pointed to the table to the right where Rebecca was organizing all the gifts. Liz thanked her and made her way over.

Liz couldn't help but start to feel a bit uncomfortable. She hadn't planned for she and Steve to be separated for the entire party. She didn't really know anyone here, aside from Bucky's family, where things were still a bit awkward after last summer.

Even though things were good between Steve, Bucky, and her, it was still awkward. She and Natasha don't have the best history, they still haven't talked everything out, clear the air. Not that Nat owed Elizabeth a conversation, she just thought that now that things were okay, maybe them two can work on their relationship, for the sake of Bucky. But whenever Liz tried to reach out Nat would just say that she was busy, so she didn't push it. Not with Natasha being pregnant, plus she figured now that she was in town for two weeks that maybe they could get together for a quick chat.

"Hey Liz," Rebecca greeted her, a sigh of relief to see a friendly face.

"Hey Bec," she smiled, hugging the teen.

"God, I'm so glad to see you," Rebecca said pulling back from the hug, "Some of these girls are real bitches."

Liz was taken back for a second hearing Rebecca swear, it's sometimes hard to believe that tiny little toddler is now this young lady about to enter her senior year of high school.

"I'm sure they're not so bad," Liz said trying to give them the benefit of the doubt.

"Really? Because they're looking at you like you just murdered their entire family," Rebecca said.

Elizabeth turned around to see Natasha's friends huddled in a semi-circle around Natasha, all whispering and glaring at her. She turned back around to Rebecca and gave her a force smile.

Rebecca felt bad at bringing that to Liz's attention. Liz was always so nice to her, and even continues to keep in contact with her especially when Rebecca needs any help or advice.

"I can take that," she said trying to change the subject.

"Thank-you," she quietly said, handing over the gift bag to Rebecca.

"They're just jealous," Rebecca tells her, "Even with having my brother's child, Natasha still can't find it in her cold hearted heart to be nice to you."

"She doesn't owe me anything."

"Now that's not true. She owes you a lot, and the least she can do is be nice, especially with my mother throwing her this baby shower and allowing her to live with us until she and Bucky find a place."

"She's living here?" Elizabeth asked, surprised to hear that. Bucky never mentioned Nat living with them, they did know that they were looking at places closer to his job and school.

"Yeah, she moved in probably two months ago, when she really started to show," Rebecca tells her, "Apparently she hadn't told her dad, and once she started showing she had to confess. He kicked her out. Said she was ruining her life."

"That's intense," Elizabeth said.

"Yup. So my mom and Keith are letting her stay until they find a place of their own," Rebecca says, "And as much as I love my brother I can't wait til she's gone. He's an idiot for knocking her up."

"She can't be that bad," Liz said trying to give Nat the benefit of the doubt.

"Trust me Liz, she is. Being pregnant has made her a complete devil," Rebecca stresses, "My mom is way too nice to have that be the mother of her first grandchild."

Before Liz could respond to that, someone came up behind her.

"Oh Becky, I wanted the gifts to be color coordinated," Natasha remarked, with her hand on her belly.

"My mom told me to do it by size," Rebecca rolled her eyes, "And my name's Rebecca."

"But Becky is so cute."

"No it's not," Rebecca argued.

"Hi Natasha," Elizabeth awkwardly greeted, breaking up the conversation.

"Oh hi Elizabeth," Natasha stiffly said, forcing a smile on her face as she rubs her belly, "Didn't think you would show up."

"Oh, well Steve told Bucky we were coming," she explains.

"Of course he did."

"You look pretty," Elizabeth complimented her to try and break the tension.

"I know. I'm absolutely glowing carrying Bucky's child," she replied with a snarky tone.

"I'm really happy for you both."

"Sure you are," she rolled her eyes.

"No, I truly am. That's why I actually wanted to talk to you about. I was wondering if maybe we can get together sometime this next week, to talk," Liz suggests.

"There's no need," Nat tells her, "I get what you're doing. You think that getting on my good graces will put you in Bucky's good graces, but I hate to break it to you, that's not going to happen. I'm trying my best here to be polite to you, but once this baby is born, I'll make sure Bucky no longer makes time for you and Steve. I am his life now, and we don't have space in it for you both."

"Nat-"

"Thanks for the gift, hopefully the gift receipt is in the bag," Natasha fake smiled, "Enjoy the party."

"Fix the gifts Becky," she turned to Rebecca enunciating 'Becky', before walking away to go back to her friends.

"Told you she was the devil," Rebecca commented, ignoring Natasha's request.

"Yeah, you weren't lying," Elizabeth turned to look at Nat who was laughing with her friends.

Steve and Elizabeth said their final goodbyes a couple of hours later, and walked back to their rental car.

"That went well, don't you think?" Steve commented on as he started the car.

"Yeah it did," she lied.

Elizabeth decided it was probably best not to bring it up to Steve. He and Bucky just fixed their relationship, that she was afraid if she told Steve that Bucky wouldn't believe them. She would just have to hope that Bucky wouldn't allow their friendship to take another hit. She had faith that their friendship was stronger than that.

"Do you mind if we made a stop somewhere?" Steve asks her as he pulls away from the curb.

"No, of course not."

"Perfect. We just have to make one quick pit stop before," he says a few minutes later, parking in a parking lot of a cafe.

Steve walked back out of the cafe with a picnic basket.

"What's that for?" She asked smiling as he got in, putting the basket in the backseat.

"Just wait and see," he winked.

15 minutes later they were pulling up to a park.

"A park?"

"Thought we could have an impromptu picnic date," he smiles, "Wait here."

He got out of the car and grabbed the basket from the backseat. She heard him close and open the trunk. He then opened her door.

"Mi lady," he held his hand open for her to take.

"Oh why thank-you kind sir," she giggled taking his hand.

He led her to a nice spot on top of a hill, overlooking the park.

"Can you hold this for me real quick," he asked, holding out the picnic basket for her.

She took it from him as he laid out the blanket. Steve took the basket back and started to unpack the contents and laid them out on the blanket for them.

"A little dinner at sunset," he offered his hand so she can sit down next to him on the blanket.

"This was perfect Steve," she kissed his cheek, as they finished off their little dinner.

"Just thought I'd thank-you for coming with me today," he says wrapping his arm around her, as she leaned into him.

"You don't have to thank me."

"I know I don't, but I want to. I know you say you were fine with today, and I completely believe you, but I also know that even if you're okay with it, it's still can be uncomfortable," he says, "So I just want to show you how appreciative I am of you."

"I love you," she leans her head up to capture his lips with her's.

Age: 27

Year: 2021

Location: Brooklyn, NY

"Steve whats with the blind fold," Elizabeth giggled in the passenger seat of their rental car.

"It's a surprise," he laughed, "Now just be patient, we're almost there."

"Steve, come on you know I hate surprises."

"You liked the last surprise I gave you," he teased.

"It was a kitten, that's different," she smiled.

"You still loved it," he said, "Plus we're here already."

"Oh that was quick," she said reaching to take her blindfold off.

"Don't," he warned her, "Not yet."

Steve helped her out of the car, and linked their arms together as he led her to the surprise.

"Okay, we're here," he nervously said, he took her blindfold off.

Liz adjusted her eyes after being in the dark for the past 30 minutes. When she opened her eyes, she was greeted with a lantern lit up picnic on top of the hill at the park.

"Surprise," Steve said behind her.

Liz turned around to find Steve down on one knee, with an opened ring box.

"Steve," she gasped.

He took her left hand into his own.

"Elizabeth Carolina Sanchez, words can't even explain how much I am in love with you, but I'm going to try. I don't think i can remember back to a time where you weren't a part of my life, and honestly i don't want to. You've made me so incredibly happy these last almost seven years, and no matter how much I say I'm appreciate of you, i don't think it's ever going to be enough. Getting to wake up to you every day to you smiling at me, honestly i don't think there's a greater thing in the world. I'd give the entire world, if it meant that I got to see you smile every day of my life. I don't ever want to imagine a life without you. You've made me the best person I could ever want to be. There's not a day that doesn't go by where you don't continuously tell me how proud you are of me, and the endless amount of support and love you've given me. There's no one I'd rather spend my entire life with. Start a family with. Be a family with. So, Elizabeth, will you do me the greatest honor of marrying me?"

"Yes," Elizabeth choked out, as the tears streamed down her face. She lunged herself into Steve's arms and kissed him.

"I love you so much," she cried.

"I love you too," he said, pulling her into another kiss.

They pulled away, and Steve placed the ring on her finger.

"I love you," she said again.

[the-darklings]

who is jean?

(drags out a rusty chair) (sits)

buckle up, gang. we're about to do French Bastard Baguette 101

basics first.

name: Jean Laurent

where does he hail from: French baguette 

what does he look like:

whose house should you egg when Jean inevitably hurts your feelings: @la-gattara-art

what’s he like?  

(let me preface everything by saying that Jean’s personality, looks, and past were not created by me; he was originally constructed by Chan (NPFH co-creator and my very segssy friend tagged above) and I simply went free real estate ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

okay, so:

bastard™. most call him “the spider” - both as a warning and as a curse. will sell you to satan for one cornchip. will also destroy you and your life if you get in his way : ) ruthless. manipulative. terrifyingly good at people and can charm pretty much anyone. has dirt on everyone and is brilliant at sniffing out weaknesses. is he lying? is he being honest? who knows? certainly not me. smoker. the living embodiment of the phrase “who we are and who we need to be to survive are two very different things”. has a heart deep, deep, deep down but good luck finding it. seductive. to be frank, the man fucks - that’s it, no fancy words. he knows what’s good and how to get it so his bed is warm most nights, no emotional connections though. likes sketching into his pocketbook : ) mostly birds/still life/architecture. speaking of which, admires architecture openly, and has a taste for art/historical things as well. mind sharper than a knife, tongue even more so 🤪 uses his accent on purpose as well. has a massive sweet tooth. is haunted by past actions. knows the price for “rebirth”. still has night terrors occasionally. ambitious for days. has an expensive taste because he knows the value of such things. enjoys old french songs. is an excellent dancer and is very happy to show just how good 😌 if he so much as sniffs out that someone is getting too comfortable beside him or is developing some sort of attachment to him, removes said attachment with surgical precision and weaponises everything he knows. can be downright vicious in that regard. prefers using words and seductions as oppose to fistfights but can hold his own if needs be. prefers guns - nice and quick. you will not know where his loyalties are until the last second. has a giddy, near boyish appreciation for sports cars but lacks technical knowledge when it comes to them, so don’t expect him to be changing oil any time soon. don’t bother trying to embarrass him, either - you can’t. he has no shame, especially if it comes to the bedroom. has a wicked sense of humour and enjoys few things more than a verbal challenge. enjoys challenges in general. if it's dangerous, he wants to poke it and see just how dangerous. he also works for someone else. will lay it all on the line for someone else but only once.  

so what’s his role and why is he important? 

jean is one of the main, catalyst characters in npfh (no place for heroes) an original universe where we hope to create an interactive modern-day, criminal world in "novel" form. where you, as a reader, play a key role and your decisions affect the story. the first prequel (like jeara's backstory) will be in normal novel format. formation of the pit of vipers aka where elites, lucien, amongst other new OCs will appear will follow that. so the running order is: fwns, tpov, npfh.

after COA gets concluded, I will be full-time working on this world. lowkey already am but that's because creativity is flowing and who am I to say no? so jean meets clara beginning of fwns (fire with no smoke - first prequel title) and for those of you who don't know clara is oc!v from my JW series Children of Ares. you will not have needed to read that story to enjoy this work because everything about JW is being removed and clara's backstory is going to be introduced anew and might be familiar to those of you who have read Gasoline Girl because it was wholly original. camorra is also staying. short version: something has happened to clara a year ago; a terrible, awful sort of trauma that has left her near crippled with the inability to deal with it (some may know what I'm referring to and it's that but x 10 worse :D). however in a world as cutthroat as npfh no falters are allowed. so teetering-at-the-edge-of-oblivion assassin meets master information gatherer because he hires her for a few "removal jobs" ("oh, you're a poisoner? sneaky, sexy, I love it.") because he's feeling out new york city for his boss and gathering information on X & Y. one thing leads to another, and those two end up needing to work together when they accidentally uncover a plan to paint streets of NY red and overthrow the old order. big time ("guess I have no choice but to trust and rely on you now because we're both being hunted,,, damn fine, just don't fall in love with me." 🙄 )

essentially to sum this story up I will say:

slowburn. reluctant partners in crime. banter. angst central. mystery. high stakes. dark. power couple when they're not trying to verbally end one another. sexual tension so thick most knives will not cut it. bi main character. mutual emotional baggage aha <3 it's mature (and yes that means there will be smut but it's been 84 years by the time we get there). at its core though, it's very much a story about healing & remembering what it is to be alive & not just existing in a role that's expected of you, nor does your past define you.

basically:

reasons to like Jean: Clara

reasons to dislike Jean: Clara

but,,, Jeara? 

yes ♥️

(I don’t know how to make gifs so enjoy potato quality <3)

here's fwns board for more vibes/jean aes too (x)

and here's my horniest playlist for them (x)

and finally, jean in memes, courtesy of coa discord:

and my personal fave

thus concludes french bastard baguette 101. have a good day and eat baguettes xoxo

[humanized-nonhumans]

8. America + states

8. Group hug (more than two)

h a sorry for taking so long, I had to study and then eat dinner-

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

America stumbled into the dark foyer, trying to be quiet. It was ten in the night, hours later than he planned to be home. He gently set the bag of groceries and trinkets on the floor and kicked off his shoes. He loosened his tie with a swift move and let the suit jacket fall around his arms. He was exhausted, but he wanted to get the little gifts for his kids. They deserved it, after all. They’d been stressed with everything going on.

His head snapped to the stairwell, where there was a creaking sound. Texas and New York emerged, eyes narrowed and hands clutching weapons. Texas had a small shotgun and NY had a machete, their favorite choices. Texas flipped on another dim light and opened his mouth to say something, but stopped short when he saw that it was just America. New York sighed, and gestured for Texas to follow him back upstairs. Texas nodded, and the boys headed up. America’s shoulders slumped as he watched them recede into the shadows of the stairs. They’re probably so pissed right now, he thought miserably, Can’t blame them, I guess.

After organizing the groceries, he quietly picked up the bag of gifts and headed up the stairs, trying to be as silent as possible. It wasn’t unusual for the Thirteen and the other older states to be awake this late, but he didn’t want to disturb them either way. He slipped into his room and closed the doors behind him, sighing in relief when it closed silently. “Really need to get those hinges fixed,” He muttered, tossing his shirt and tie onto the bed. After stripping and taking a shower, he threw on a t-shirt and pajama pants, ready to simply collapse on the bed when a knock came at his door. He heaved a sigh, but brushed away the annoyance. The kiddos probably just wanted a goodnight hug, he reasoned.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was for all of his 50 states to be standing outside of the door. “My sparkling stars, I adore you all, but why are y’all up so late-” He muttered sleepily, only to be cut off by the kids bombarding him with hugs. He stumbled back and laughed, before sitting on the floor and letting them latch onto him. “Y’all missed me huh?”

“Papa, we haven’t seen you the entire day!” Mississippi huffed, claiming a spot on his lap, right next to Alabama.

“Yeah,” California sighed, “The younger ones were getting worried. I told them to calm down but that didn’t work.”

“Because that’s not how you calm down kids, Cali,” Delaware muttered, setting his head on America’s shoulder.

California opened her mouth to retort, but America shook his head. “No fighting. If it makes you guys feel better, I’m taking an off day tomorrow! I can spend the entire day with y’all!”

The states cheered, and pulled themselves closer. The Thirteen chuckled, and pulled away, letting the others embrace their dad.

“You guys get in here too,” Ohio muttered, grabbing South Carolina and pulling her into the piled, “There’s space.”

After another round of protests, they joined as well. They may have acted like they didn’t care, but America knew better.

His loving gaze roved over the chaotic gremlins surrounding him, and his heart swelled with love and pride.

“I love you all so much.”

“We love you too!”

[thefirsthogokage]

Why did you rage quit the rookie?

(this turned out longer then I meant it to be, but I kept remembering reasons why I hate this show now)

The writing went down the drain. Hard. I was so pissed because it started off well in season one. Granted, it had a couple big ridiculous things that happened, but overall it was pretty good. Especially for a freshman show. One of the best I'd seen in years.

Then season two came along and it became progressively/exponentially worse.

Obviously going for shock value over good content with extreme circumstances in most episodes, often not making sense (why the fuck did Nolan's son and his girlfriend go to that trailer park?)

poor plot lines with female characters (Lopez and Wes getting engaged after only being together a few months, Lopez trying out to be pretty damn toxic and "I was poor, you should have been happy you were rich" and "sorry you're embarrassed of me (which is the same abousive shit my mother would pull), Grace going back to her ex because they had a kid even though their marriage sucked and it was outlined earlier in the season that was a bad idea, Jessica killing that one guy and that was never followed through on and her being psycho and following Nolan around and that never being addressed, Chen never given psychological damage she should have absolutely had even of she did self-therapy, Rachel getting her "dream job" in NY and the writers couldn't even take the time to tell us what said dream job was.)

Poorly planned plots in general (stunningly so)

Most characters not feeling like a proper continuation of who they were in season one. Going a ong with that, Chen and Bradford being way too close basically over night when that isn't natural progression from season one

I was for Chenford after season one, but they escalated it in a very cheesy and non true to character way, which also happened way too quickly. So many of their interactions felt too romantically tinted when they shouldn't have been there yet. HEART EYES ALL THE TIME! Like, I stayed watching the show for them until I couldn't tolerate anymore. Then I tried staying for Nyla and just gave up because I hated the rest of the show so much

obvious lack of research (the serial killer with pathology that made no sense, never finding out the connection between him and the lady, the guy apparently also got a job a prison with a stolen social security number from a disabled person - both of which would have been flagged in a background check!!! Such a genuinely poor writing episode and the season just went even more downhill from there)

Nolan being the hero even more in most of the episodes, and his intellect or lack thereof being a plot device

not letting Chen actually suffer from PTSD like she should have and just had her basically quickly move on in an impossible way (I am including this twice, thank you)

throwing her into a relationship with a guy who was a jackass and went all "leave my woman alone" on Bradford when she absolutely didn't need help

Jackson going to a very public premiere with his actor boyfriend even though he was an active cop. What the actual fuck were they thinking with that? Jackson isn't that dumb, he would have never done that.

this show clearly is not keeping a a continuity or character bible of any sort, getting basic facts of their characters wrong (especially Tim, I just can't remember the specific thing that it was, but it could have been inconsistencies in his wounds. Now that I think about it, Chen said something about him getting shot more then once and stabbed and the only time we ever saw evidence of any injury was after he was shot in episode one. Which actually brings me to my next point...)

they never had Tim have a scar from his gunshot wound

Tim getting his 12-year-old-acting girlfriend out of trouble when she bats her eyes at him. He shouldn't have even been dating her in the first place. No way Tim would have ever dated a friend of his rookie. Completely unprofessional of him, in a way that was not believable for his character.

No way Chen could have been an undercover cop after that documentary episode. And if that episode was mean to be a stand alone, it should have never been in the show. That episode also had continuity issues, and that's not including the absolute insanity of whatever the fuck they did to Stirling. (That poor actor, he really wanted to come back and continue the story with his character and Jackson)

THE WHOLE FUCKING BULLSHIT TIMELINE AND PACING OF THE SHOW! examples: They made the stupid thing current to whatever the real world year was. The problem with that was they had an in-universe schedule set up. The first two seasons should have spanned from like October 2018 to October 2019, and yet, in the episode where Wes got stabbed (earlyish season 2), it was November 2019 when it should have been around like May, 2019. They said it was 2021 early in S3 when it should have never been around that time. Infact, it was supposed to be during their last 30 days of their rookie year, meaning THAT should have been October or November 2019. The time pacing of this show is so bad. They should have done a real time skip in season 3, instead, the first NINE FUCKING EPISODES WERE THOSE LAST 30 DAYS! And, according to someone else's math, because of the bullshit with the timeline, Lopez was pregnant for 11 months. Absolutely fucking insane. Timelines and timetables that are so thoroughly screwed up in a show that it's THAT obvious they are flying by the seat of their pants are just impossible for me to stand. That is so dumbfounding to see on any tv show and alone enough for me to rage quit. It's so bizarre they stuck to a timeframe in-universe, then so obviously screwed up what year it was every damn season at least once (in S3 2-3 times).

Just such piss poor writing. No real planning ability. No writing talent left in that writer's room after season one. Just people who throw words down on paper and hope that people will like it. Which so many people still do for some reason?

There are so many other things wrong with this show, but those are the ones I remember off the top of my head. Granted, a couple are second hand because I stopped watching after the rookies did stuff with the DEA. I couldn't watch that. That was such and insane idea. OH AND THEM GOING ON A FUCKING SECRET OP? WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!

And that's not including what I've heard was their "After School Special"-style take on fighting racism in the police force.

And I don't always pick up on these kinds of things specifically. I generally don't pick up on missteps like that in plot or timelines or whatnot or just things that even someone who doesn't have much specified knowledge in certain things should miss (the "job at a prison" thing I mentioned earlier). I'm good at telling the chemistry between actors, - or lack there of, - not the other stuff. When it's so bad I - of all people - am noticing things that are normally pointed out to me, a lot of fucking up is happening. In multiple departments. Like, normally when anything happens in other shows, it isn't as blunt, on the head, painfully obvious, and frequent as it has been in this show.

So, yeah, if you made it though my rant, congrats. If you don't get irritated with the show and bullshit that happens in it now, power to you I guess.

I really wished I could still hate watch this show, but it checked way too many "this is exceptionally poor craftsmanship: tv show edition" boxes for me to put up with it anymore. It was so promising at first, even with it's various hiccups (that I didn't notice until later on all of them) but I hadn't seen a show crash that hard in quality before. I mean, since then I had to experience the travesty that was Supernatural going from 15x18 to 15x19 and 15x20, but that was after I gave up on The Rookie.

Anywho, I would say I hope that answers your question anon, but I have little room for doubt that it didn't.

[justanotherwriter-fangirl]

A Reason To Stay (W. H.)

Word Count:  1,453 words.

Warnings: I don’t think so...

Request: Hi there, can I get a Will Halstead imagine, please? Like when Will had just come home from New York and was offered a job at the ED and he's late on his first day as he wasn't taking it seriously and was thinking of just going back to NY but when he step foot into Med, he caught sight of the reader, the only girl he has ever loved but screwed things up with and suddenly he found his reason to stay. Thank you x

A/N: Hi!!! First of all I feel like I need to say that I think I’ve never struggle so much with a story before so sorry in advance if it kinda sucks, with that being said this story took me so long because I couldn’t figure out exactly what I wanted to do so I ended up kinda sticking to the original plot presented in the “I Am The Apocalypse” episode where he’s introduced. :/ Anyway, I hope you like it and thanks so much for reading💕

Gif obtained from Google. All credits to its owner.

Thanks for reading <3

________________________

He knew it had been a bad idea going out to have some drinks the night before his first day on a new job, the naked girl next to her who kept him awake most of the night proof enough of his mistake but truth to be told it wasn’t like he was too bothered about it either, it was only a job, a job he had accepted just for his brother Jay. 

The water in the shower was already running cold but he stayed there thinking about his life, the reason he was now in Chicago and everything he has left behind in New York, he couldn't believe how fast and how much his life had changed and how he truly wasn't feeling excited about his new life, his purpose lost behind, yeah. of course this new job could be a great thing but honestly nothing was better than being a plastic surgeon in New York, that was action. Well, it didn’t matter, he wasn’t planning on staying much longer.

As he got out of the bathroom a couple minutes later he realized he was a bit late and he felt a little guilty about it but not enough to rush out the door, still taking his time to dress, prepare his bag and go to the kitchen to have some breakfast.

Stepping outside his room he came face to face with the girl from last night, a quick good morning kiss before she was lost once again in his bedroom.

Entering the kitchen he was faced with Jay pouring himself a cup of coffee, the space was tight but this was only temporary, in a couple days he would be back at New York and he would have his old place back.

“When do you have to be at work?” Jay asked.

“Ten minutes ago?” he answered faking to look at his watch.

“It’s your first day”

“Uh, first and last, as it turns out” he added nonchalantly while looking for some fresh milk in the refrigerator “Almond milk? You don’t have any regular milk in here?”

“You’re joking” said Jay with a blank face, making him turn around.

“No, I got to get back” he said, taking the milk out to pour some in his flask to add coffee then.

“To what? I thought the partners kicked you out of the practice”

“They did, but, now, this may come as a shock to you, there are other practices in New York City” Will answered with a bit of humor, Jay really seemed to not get it at all.

“Hey, how ‘bout, for once, you see something all the way through” Jay said in the same tone as him.

“Wow, you sound like the old man” he couldn’t stop himself from saying it, 

“There it is” Jay sentenced not surprised at all, this wasn't new “I mean, that is why you’re blowing back out of town, right?”

“What do you care?” Will finally let out, he had no right to tell him anything.

“Just give it a couple weeks, at least” Jay said now defeated while following him out the kitchen as Will kept taking his things to get going. “You never know” 

“I got to go” he finished before watching his clock again and leaving out the door.

The way to the hospital wasn’t long but it did nothing to keep him from repeating the conversation over and over again in his head, if he didn’t get a headache from the night before, he definitely had one now. Why couldn’t Jay just let him go? Half of his life he had been away, what was the big problem now?

Stepping into the break room letting out a frustrated sigh he realized he wasn’t the only one there, some clattering noise coming from behind the fridge.

“When I took this job I didn’t know we did our own maintenance work” he said stepping closer to see who was it. A woman in her blue uniform working on the inside panel the fridge had at the bottom.

“I have a theory, Goodwin likes broken appliances ‘cause it means we have to spend more money at the vending machines” he heard muffled from his position but the voice had a familiar sound to it though he couldn’t figure where he had heard it before, a memory trying to make its way to the surface of his mind.

“The great vending machine conspiracy. You could get published in JAMA with that” he said playing along when suddenly a buzzing let them know the fridge was back to life. “Nice work” he added coming to the front to open the door and check it was actually working.

That’s when your form finally emerged from behind the fridge, now face to face you recognized each other, a million memories flashing to both your minds of your previous college romance, the most intense and passionate relationship either of you had ever had, never being able to feel the same ever again after that.

“Will?”

“(Y/N)?”

You both said in unison with the same shocked expression in both your faces but you were quicker to recover.

“What are you doing here? The last thing I knew about you was that you were leaving to Sudan” you questioned trying to put on a strong front and keep your feelings hidden, the pain of your break up coming back to surface after years of him being gone but you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, you needed to know if the reason he left you behind for had been at least worth it.

“Yes, I went to Sudan and worked there as a doctor, it was amazing but after a while I came back, well, not here but to New York, I’ve been living there since and I spent some time working as a plastic surgeon but it doesn’t matter, tell me about you, please, I haven’t see you in years” he said nostalgic, the realization of how much he had missed you downing in on him.

You two had dated during your time in college, your connection was almost instant and before you knew it you both were dating. the two of you inseparable for years until one day he came to your place with a box full of your stuff in his hands, he was leaving, not only you but the country too.

He said he needed something more, that he couldn’t stay stuck in Chicago and it was his time to finally be free and, of course, that included being free from a long distance relationship that eventually would be doomed to end, leaving you behind with so much emotions to deal with, anger, frustration, pain and hope because despite it all you loved him and you only wished the best for him, hoping for him to found the happiness he was looking for.

“Well it’s going to sound so boring in comparison but, as you can already tell, I stayed here, went straight from college to a hospital and I’ve been working my ass off to become a cardiothoracic surgeon, I’m almost there now” you said looking into his eyes, a shy smile coming to your face knowing he had been happy all these years like you had hoped. 

“Hey, it’s not boring, this is what you always wanted, I’m proud of you, you followed your dream and now you’re living it” he said smiling softly at you, the same smile you had fallen in love so many years ago. Stepping forward he reached out to caress your cheek, the simple gesture still sending electroshocking pulses. 

Clearing your throat you took a step back, his hand falling from your face.

“Yeah, I guess, it’s been good, anyway, I’m glad to see you again, as it seems we’re coworkers now and I’d love to keep catching up but I need to go, I have a patient that needs me” you said quickly before turning around and leaving, he couldn’t know how much his presence still affected you, he had left you behind, he couldn’t just like that came back into your life and pretend everything was alright or like it had been before because it wasn’t, you were different now and so was he, you needed to get to know eachother again before anything could happen again between you two, even if it was only a friendship.

As he saw you exiting the door only a thought came to his head, he now had his reason to stay in Chicago, you, he was going to get you back because there was no way he was willing to let go again of the only woman he ever loved.

_______________________

Masterlist

[jafreitag]

Grateful Dead Monthly: Gaelic Park – New York, NY 8/26/71

Fifty years ago today, on Thursday, August 26, 1971, the Grateful Dead played a concert at Gaelic Park in New York City.

Gaelic Park is located at West 240th Street and Broadway, five miles north and east of Yankee Stadium, in the Bronx. In 1926, the Gaelic Athletic Association purchased it to host the Gaelic Games. What are Gaelic Games? I’m a sliver Irish (just learned that a few years ago from a cousin who did some DNA stuff), but I didn’t know about such games until I asked the Google machine. Here you go, from the Wiki:

“Gaelic games (Irish: Cluichí Gaelacha) are sports played in Ireland under the auspices of the Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA). They include Gaelic football, hurling, Gaelic handball and rounders. Women’s versions of hurling and football are also played: camogie, organised by the Camogie Association of Ireland, and ladies’ Gaelic football, organised by the Ladies’ Gaelic Football Association. While women’s versions are not organised by the GAA (with the exception of handball, where men’s and women’s handball competitions are both organised by the GAA Handball organisation), they are closely associated with it.”

Some to unpack there. What’s Gaelic football? It’s basically rugby. (The rules are probably way different, but this is a music blog, so don’t judge.) And hurling? Rugby with a small ball and sticks that look like sporty pizza paddles. (Again, don’t judge.) Gaelic handball? Racquetball, except you use your hands and you’re outside, not in some bougie health club from the ’80s. Finally, rounders? It’s actually alot like baseball. Pretty cool.

Why were the Dead there? A 9/2/71 piece in the Village Voice by Carman Moore, now archived on the Grateful Dead Sources blog, said that Gotham promoter Howard Stein, a Bill Graham competitor who booked the Dead to play at the Cap Theater in Port Chester, NY and the Academy of Music in NYC, had turned “the drab little Riverdale soccer field … into a summer rock mini-festival.” (Check out the poster above.) Moore’s writing has an early-70s sizzle, and he refers to his colleague, now-legendary rock scribe Robert Christgau. Here’s an excerpt:

“Last week’s Grateful Dead concert up at Gaelic Park was a usual Dead session, meaning that the band-to-fan-to-band electro-chemical process for which rock music is famed was on like high mass at Easter. Although I think I know most of the time what they are doing musically (Christgau will like this notion); I don’t quite understand them electro-chemically. Like the New York Knicks of two seasons ago, they can do excellent things together though they are not a group of deathless superstars. Garcia gets his songs across, but he can’t sing, and Bob Weir’s voice rises to about average…maybe better when he gets to screaming and the music sweeps him along. I still find it difficult to recognize the Dead songs that aren’t “Truckin'” or “St. Stephen” one from the other. I am not one of their fans, but seem to be one of their admirers. Their music speaks in a special language to their live listeners, and that language has the vocabulary of everybody else, but a convoluted syntax all its own. The note sequences are not completely dependent upon musical factors but are also dictated by how involved the band feels and also upon what kind of heat the audience is giving off. I’m trying to get to some essences of this thing.

The drama of a Dead concert revolves around the fact that wherever the band plays they know that a certain number (several tons) of their partisans will be there and that their crowd knows the Dead potential to excite them, but they also know that the Dead may not get into gear until the crowd begins to apply some heat, and so forth. Both parties also know that the concert will be long enough and informal enough for anything to happen on either side of the footlights, and so audiences improvise (smoke, go to the hot dog stand, kiss and snuggle, cheer, dance, listen like star-struck fools) just like their musician friends on stage (who play light and funny for awhile, retire backstage awhile, stand around, or get lost in a piece and turn on the heavy jets). Like good lovers, the Grateful Dead know the secrets of good foreplay, taking your time, surprising the partner for awhile, and then just reacting for a spell.”

The timing of the show seems odd. The band was on the East Coast in July, but began August back in Cali – LA, SD, Berkeley – before a three-night run at Chicago’s historic Auditorium Theater. Then they trekked back to NYC. Our resident Deaditor ECM explains that aspect: “This show was supposed to be played the day before the Yale Bowl concert on July 30, but some issues with the equipment trucks and/or weather prevented it from happening from the scheduled date. There are a few stories on the web about people who didn’t get the message (no twitter back then!) and dropped some acid only to show up to an empty stadium. Haha!”

Moore said that the show reminded him of “a high school stadium I used to know – low stands, unfulfilled infield grass, mud holes here and there, beer sold at one end in some quantity.” He continued:

“The formal shape of the concert was a general crescendo, light at the beginning and heavy-groovy at the end – not a shooting-star, call-the-law finale, just a heightened physical-emotional climate…the goods delivered as promised…sort of like good preaching in a church known to be a happy place. I did not enjoy their country-westernish opening tunes; maybe they didn’t either, because the pieces were awfully short. But by the three-quarter mark they had involved themselves, the crowd, and me too.

First they got the rhythm engaged and finally, courtesy of Jerry Garcia’s lead and interplays with Lesh and Weir, they went into the soloing and jamming which are the real magic music territory of this band. Much is made of the Dead soloists, but it became clear to me by last Thursday that bassist Phil Lesh plus those two drummers create the atmosphere that makes the Dead thing possible. The drummers were exceptionally understated, but Lesh kept bopping and thrumming away, heavily at all times, until his patterns were consistently getting the other players off. In the middle of “St. Stephen” there was a special coming together: Lesh had found a nice ambiguous but compelling set of licks; Garcia eased into a solo; Weir strummed a cross-time lick over all of it; it built; it quieted; Garcia started to play strange classical kind of lines; the drums dropped out; the audience got quiet; nothing at all could be predicted for a minute or so; then Lesh began to grope his way out with two chords and rhythms which began to regularize; audience began to jump and then to clap; guitars began to straighten out; the band came home to the cheers of the fans. Good music-making. The listener goes home without a little tune to whistle, but he hears music. As if they were finishing off some personal solos based over the last riffs heard, the fans went out of Gaelic Park without a thousand encores and without a lot of fuss on the streets outside.

It’s all very interesting, surprising, and I guess mystifying as before. All I know is that the Dead, or their fans, or the combination of both lure you into planning to return when they’re all assembled and back in town again.”

Apparently, there was some grief about bootlegs at this show. The GD Sources blog has a post that archives a 10/6/71 piece by the excellently-handled Basho Katzenjammer (Basho, the 17th Century Japanese haiku master; Katzenjammer, the German word for hangover) that gripes about an army of 200# “muscle freaks” at the direction of tour manager Sam Cutler liberating a handful of tapes from 100# weakling Johnny Lee. It’s a truly fun read. An excerpt:

“The biggest piece of shit spewing from Cutler’s mouth is about the reasons the Dead have for being so pissed off: they don’t like the quality (remember Garcia’s line in “I Got No Chance of Losin”? He says, “I’m only in it for the gold.” Yeah, music has a way of being more honest than the artist intends it to be at times…) The “quality”? Anyone who has bought a bootleg recently will know and agree that the bootleg stereo album called “Grateful Dead” is one of the best underground products yet. The tape was taken from a concert the group did at Winterland, on the coast a few months back. Yeah, Garcia fucks up a bit on “Casey Jones,” and Pigpen’s ego may have been deflated a bit by his voice coming over poorly on “Good Loving” but that was a concert. You do a concert and you stand by your performance, good or bad. That’s show business.

This effete artistic bullshit doesn’t matter anyway … When you’re out to get all the money you can out of your gigs, like the Dead seem to be (like all the groups seem to be) you might be accused of being a bit piggish; when you use strong-arm shit to insure that you get every last penny that you deserve — by making Amerikan standards — you are a Pig. Jerry Garcia, is that you?

Nobody buys that anti-bootleg shit about the artistic integrity of the artist in saying what goes out. One, you stand by your performance; two, even if you don’t want to, Jerry, somewhat, and say “all your private property is fair game for your brothers (especially when they sell records of concerts that don’t compete with coming releases) and your brother (who’s gonna continue to dig you as we live off your comets we’re gonna keep ripping you off because it is possible. As simple as that.” If you and Cutler and Stein continue your shit, though, we’ll just have to sing the song the same old way, you guys being put in the position of being the same old reactionary establishment that we’re all ripping off. It’s all around. You break your back playing gigs for ten years and suddenly success is staring you in the face. Bread: lots and lots of bread. You turn your back on your poor, ripping ’em off roots and start to tighten up. You’re in the biggest rip-off industry around, but no one cares as long as they’re having fun.

Money. That’s the whole story, isn’t it? If these were other times, in another land under a different set of rules maybe you could justifiably complain about the people who want to give your recorded performances out free because you didn’t screen them and pick out the sections you didn’t like and do them over for the cat, ’cause no one charges for their music, and because the means of production belong to the people, and they can turn out all the good sounds they can, and you have a natural right to screen all releases. But we’re here. Now. You guys are making millions — or soon will be. Money is power, especially as the concept of money is crumbling nation-wide and power freaks like Stein are cornering the market on it. The channels that the green-power the Dead bring in travel aren’t the healthiest for the generations of revolution to come. Stein is one of these hopeful images of a freak with a chance to change things positively gone sour, who uses all his power to consolidate his power; who’ll go to any extremes to insure the natural expansion of that power. Fuck him. Fuck you.”

Speak, Basho! Quaint that the beef about bootlegs back then was sound quality, rather than copyright. Stuff got figured out at some point, I think. Like when Bobby shut down the LMA, lmao.

Ed featured part of this show in the 2016 edition of his epcot 31 Days of Dead project. Here are his listening notes, which are typically spot-on (and better than than the not-quite-on-the-bus commentary from Mr. Moore): 

“Less than three weeks after Pigpen’s definitive performance of Hard To Handle at the Hollywood Palladium (8/6/71), the Grateful Dead play the final date of their summer tour in 1971 at Gaelic Park in the Bronx. It will be Pig’s last show until December and the last time the band will ever perform in their original quintet configuration of Jerry, Phil, Pig, Billy and Bobby. By September, Keith will be rehearsing with the band to assume a full-time role on the keys. Perhaps anticipating his absence, Pigpen leads the band through 6 of his songs including the rarely-played Empty Pages and the last Hard To Handle. It is also one of the last performances of Saint Stephen, until the band revived it in 1976 with a major facelift, never to be played the same way again. When you consider these historical milestones along with the departure of Mickey Hart and the closings of the legendary Fillmore East and West earlier in the year it makes you realize that this concert carried a little more weight than anyone could have ever foreseen at the time. It truly was the end of a chapter in the life of the Grateful Dead. As you listen to each song you can’t help but feel a certain degree of nostalgia.

For me, the hidden gem of the show is the outstanding version of Uncle Johns Band. Jerry’s first guitar solo is an absolute joy to hear. His notes sing with irresistible melody and happy sunshine which perfectly capture the nostalgia of those carefree early years. If you listen closely you can hear Pigpen playing the wood claves.”

Speaking of Pig, this show features the second and final performance of Empty Pages. The NYS Music blog, which has a nice write-up of this show, describes it as a McKernan original that “pairs his traditional crooning style with a slow blues jam that’s nicely peppered with fiery guitar licks from Garcia. It’s a true rarity and a shame that the band wouldn’t be able to further develop this one.”

I feel like this was a try-hard post. It might be tl;dr, idk. Here’s the true goodness…

Transport to the Charlie Miller remaster of the soundboard recording HERE.

More soon.

JF

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[arcticdementor]

I love NYC. When I first moved to NYC it was a dream come true. Every corner was like a theater production happening right in front of me. So much personality, so many stories.

Every subculture I loved was in NYC. I could play chess all day and night. I could go to comedy clubs. I could start any type of business. I could meet people. I had family, friends, opportunities. No matter what happened to me, NYC was a net I could fall back on and bounce back up.

Now it's completely dead. "But NYC always always bounces back." No. Not this time. "But NYC is the center of the financial universe. Opportunities will flourish here again." Not this time.

"NYC has experienced worse". No it hasn't.

…

Three of the most important reasons to move to NYC:

- business opportunities

- culture

- food

…

Midtown Manhattan, the center of business in NYC, is empty. Even though people can go back to work, famous office buildings like the Time Life skyscraper is still 90% empty. Businesses realized that they don't need their employees at the office.

In fact, they realize they are even more productive without everyone back to the office. The Time Life building can handle 8,000 workers. Now it maybe has 500 workers back.

…

"What do you mean?" a friend of mine said to me when I told him 'Midtown should be called 'Ghost Town', "I'm in my office right now!"

"What are you doing there?"

"Packing up," he said and laughed, "I'm shutting it down." He works in the entertainment business.

Another friend of mine works at a major investment bank as a managing director. Before the pandemic he was at the office every day, sometimes working from 6am to 10pm.

Now he lives in Phoenix, Arizona. "As of June," he told me, "I had never even been to Phoenix." And then he moved there. He does all his meetings on Zoom.

I was talking to a book editor who has been out of the city since early March. "We've been all working fine. I'm not sure why we would need to go back to the office."

One friend of mine, Derek Halpern, was convinced he'd stay. He put up a Facebook post the other day saying he might be changing his mind.

…

People say, "NYC has been through worse" or "NYC has always come back."

No and no.

First, when has NYC been through worse?

Even in the 1970s, and through the 80s, when NYC was going bankrupt, and even when it was the crime capital of the US or close to it, it was still the capital of the business world (meaning: it was the primary place young people would go to build wealth and find opportunity), it was culturally on top of its game - home to artists, theater, media, advertising, publishing, and it was probably the food capital of the US.

…

In early March, many people (not me), left NYC when they felt it would provide safety from the virus and they no longer needed to go to work and all the restaurants were closed. People figured, "I'll get out for a month or two and then come back."

They are all still gone.

And then in June, during rioting and looting a second wave of NYC-ers (this time me) left. I have kids. Nothing was wrong with the protests but I was a little nervous when I saw videos of rioters after curfew trying to break into my building.

…

…

Summary: Businesses are remote and they aren't returning to the office. And it's a death spiral: the longer offices remain empty, the longer they will remain empty.

In 2005, a hedge fund manager was visiting my office and said, "In Manhattan you practically trip over opportunities in the street."

Now the streets are empty.

…

I co-own a comedy club, Standup NY, on 78th and Broadway. I'm very very proud of the club and grateful to my fellow owners Dani Zoldan and Gabe Waldman and our manager Jon Boreamayo. It's a great club. It's been around since 1986 and before that it was a theater.

One time, Henry Winkler stopped by to come on my podcast. He was the one who told me it had been a theater.

He said, "I grew up two doors down from here and used to perform in here as a kid. Then I went out to LA to be the Fonz and now I'm back here, full circle, to be on your podcast. This place has history." Things like that happen in NYC.

…

I love the club. Before the pandemic I would perform there throughout the week in addition to many other clubs around the city and in the past few months, clubs in: Chicago, Denver, San Jose, LA, Cincinnati, all over the Netherlands, and other places.

I miss it.

…

That said, we have no idea when we will open. Nobody has any idea. And the longer we close, the less chance we will ever reopen profitably.

Broadway is closed until at least the Spring. Lincoln Center is closed. All the museums are closed.

Forget about the tens of thousands of jobs lost in these cultural centers. Forget even about the millions of dollars of tourist and tourist-generated revenues lost by the closing of these centers.

There are thousands of performers, producers, artists, and the entire ecosystem of art, theater, production, curation, that surrounds these cultural centers. People who have worked all of their lives for the right to be able to perform even once on Broadway whose lives and careers have been put on hold.

I get it. There was a pandemic.

But the question now is: what happens next? And, given the uncertainty (since there is no known answer), and given the fact that people, cities, economies, loathe uncertainty, we simply don't know the answer and that's a bad thing for New York City.

…

My favorite restaurant is closed for good. Ok, let's go to my second favorite. Closed for good. Third favorite, closed for good.

I thought the PPP was supposed to help. No? What about emergency relief? No. Stimulus checks? Unemployment? No and no. Ok, my fourth favorite, or what about that place I always ordered delivery from? No and no.

Around Late May I took walks and saw that many places were boarded up. Ok, I thought, because the protesting was leading to looting and the restaurants were protecting themselves. They'll be ok.

Looking closer I'd see the signs. For Lease. For Rent. For whatever.

Before the pandemic, the average restaurant had only 16 days of cash on hand. Some had more (McDonalds), and some had less (the local mom-and-pop Greek diner).

Yelp estimates that 60% of restaurants around the United States have closed.

My guess is more than 60% will be closed in New York City but who knows.

Someone said to me, "Well, people will want to come in now and start their own restaurants! There is less competition."

I don't think you understand how restaurants work.

…

If the restaurants are no longer clustered, fewer people go out to eat (they are on the fence about where so they elect to stay home). Restaurants breed more restaurants.

And again, what happens to all the employees who work at these restaurants? They are gone. They left New York City. Where did they go? I know a lot of people who went to Maine, Vermont, Tennessee, upstate, Indiana, etc - back to live with their parents or live with friends or live cheaper. They are gone and gone for good.

And what person wakes up today and says, "I can't wait to set up a pizza place in the location where 100,000 other pizza places just closed down." People are going to wait awhile and see. They want to make sure the virus is gone, or there's a vaccine, or there's a profitable business model.

Or...even worse.

…

If building owners and landlords lose their prime tenants (the store fronts on the bottom floor, the offices on the middle floors, the well-to-do on the top floors, etc) then they go out of business.

And what happens when they go out of business?

Nothing actually. And that's the bad news.

People who would have rented or bought say, "Hmmm, everyone is saying NYC is heading back to the 1970s, so even though prices might be 50% lower than they were a year ago, I think I will wait a bit more. Better safe than sorry!"

And then with everyone waiting... prices go down. So people see prices go down and they say, "Good thing I waited. But what happens if I wait even more!" And they wait and then prices go down more.

This is called a deflationary spiral. People wait. Prices go down. Nobody really wins. Because the landlords or owners go broke. Less money gets spent on the city. Nobody moves in so there is no motion in the markets. And people already owning in the area and can afford to hang on, have to wait longer for a return of restaurants, services, etc that they were used to.

Well, will prices go down low enough everyone buys?

Answer: Maybe. Maybe not. Some people can afford to hang on but not afford to sell. So they wait. Other people will go bankrupt and there will be litigation, which creates other problems for real estate in the area. And the big borrowers and lenders may need a bailout of some sort or face mass bankruptcy. Who knows what will happen?

…

I lived three blocks from Ground Zero on 9/11. Downtown, where I lived, was destroyed, but it came roaring back within two years. Such sadness and hardship and then quickly that area became the most attractive area in New York.

And in 2008/2009, much suffering during the Great Recession, again much hardship, but things came roaring back.

But...this time it's different. You're never supposed to say that but this time it's true. If you believe this time is no different, that NYC is resilient, etc I hope you're right.

I don't benefit from saying any of this. I love NYC. I was born there. I've lived there forever. I STILL live there. I love everything about NYC. I want 2019 back.

But this time it's different.

One reason: bandwidth.

In 2008, average bandwidth speeds were 3 megabits per second. That's not enough for a Zoom meeting with reliable video quality. Now, it's over 20 megabits per second. That's more than enough for high quality video.

There's a before and after. BEFORE: no remote work. AFTER: everyone can remote work.

…

Everyone has spent the past five months adapting to a new lifestyle. Nobody wants to fly across the country for a two hour meeting when you can do it just as well on Zoom. I can go see "live comedy" on Zoom. I can take classes from the best teachers in the world for almost free online as opposed to paying $70,000 a year for a limited number of teachers who may or may not be good.

Everyone has choices now. You can live in the music capital of Nashville, you can live in the "next Silicon Valley" of Austin. You can live in your hometown in the middle of wherever. And you can be just as productive, make the same salary, have higher quality of life with a cheaper cost to live.

…

Wait for events and conferences and even meetings and maybe even office spaces to start happening in virtual realities once everyone is spread out from midtown Manhattan to all over the country.

The quality of restaurants will start to go up in all the second and then third tier cities as talent and skill flow to the places that can quickly make use of them.

Ditto for cultural events.

And then people will ask, "wait a second - I was paying over 16% in state and city taxes and these other states and cities have little to no taxes? And I don't have to deal with all the other headaches of NYC?"

Because there are headaches in NYC. Lots of them. It's just we sweep them under the table because so much else has been good there.

NYC has a $9 billion deficit. A billion more than the Mayor thought they were going to have. How does a city pay back its debts? The main way is aid from the state. But the state deficit just went bonkers. Then is taxes. But if 900,000 estimated jobs are lost in NYC and tens of thousands of businesses, then that means less taxes unless taxes are raised.

…

What reason will people have to go back to NYC? 

[samsterham]

I want to write something about Sarah, heaven forbid my memory fails me someday.

She came to us with a broken femur. She was 92. Her surgery to repair it went well. She was 92, but still had things to do. She followed all the doctor's orders. She worked hard with physical therapy every time they came to see her. She worked hard to maintain her independence.

All the time she loved us, her caregivers. She was one of those patients that really made you love the job. She made it so you even appreciated the dirtier, less pleasant work. She made you want to do it just by being herself. She asked us about OUR days, how WE were doing, she wanted to hear about OUR lives.

Her children visited in some combination every day. Every single one of them was as sweet as her. They frequently gifted us with food & smiles & gratitude.

Next thing we knew, aweek had passed & she stopped progressing. We were so sure we would be able to send her to a skilled facility for rehab by now. But things kept going wrong. Small things that kept adding up. Preexisting comorbidities that previously had been fairly in control were beginning to bubble up to the surface. But she wasn't ready to succumb yet. She had things to do, life to live, people to love.

She ended up being on our floor close to a month. As one can imagine, there's a tendency to really get to know a patient when they're with you that long & you see them at least 3-4 days a week, 12 hours a day.

She loved to celebrate our good days with us, she loved to hear about our partners, children, activities outside of work. She also encouraged us to speak of our exasperations to her, so long as we were comfortable. It was impossible to be uncomfortable with her in any capacity. Inevitably, we opened ourselves to her as much as she did us & the lines between professional & personal would blur.

She keep deteriorating. She grew increasingly weaker despite her efforts with physical therapy, her consistency with eating & drinking & medication compliance, & her determination to keep doing her own ADL's as much as possible.

Sometime in week 3 her ability to swallow began to fail. She was given a nasogastric tube for nutrition & most meds. Unfortunately, the nutrition they supply have a tendency to wreal havoc on the GI tract & accidents are common.

She had managed to get from the bed to her recliner with PT, but had not been helped back before they left for the day, so the task fell upon us. We went to move her & her legs would. Not. Respond. Not even the uninjured leg. You could see the panic in her eyes as she tried & strained only to completely fail to summon the strength. It ended up taking a small group of us techs & nurses to get her up & pivot to the bed.

Once she was in the bed, I was tasked with cleaning her up a bit, which had become necessary due to the exertion. As I was washing her, she began sobbing.

She lamented how she had come to this point. The day she fell & broken her hip she had been driving her car. She was still living alone. She was walking & shopping. She was doing her chores, seeing her children & grandchildren & friends & going to church. She was still cooking & cleaning and & hosting. "No one has wiped my ass but me in 90 years, now I can't even do that myself!"

It's hard to know exactly what to say to people when it comes to this, when their minds & spirits are fully intact but their bodies fail & they're suddenly nearly or completely helpless. All you can do is listen, gently validate their feelings, assure them that there is absolutely no shame in what's happening to them. That you are in no way judging them & you are here to help in any way possible. In this specific case, I made the decision to offer up a little of my own vulnerability as well.

I told her about The Snow Mound Incident ™️. I prefer to spare this particular audience many of the details, as it is not for the squeamish. Essentially, I found myself in a predicament very similar to her most acute GI upset, which we were handling as we spoke. A key difference being well, a mound of snow at a ski resort in western NY state.

I asked her first if she was in a place mentally to hear the story, & if she was then I wanted to tell it because I felt it might lift her spirits a bit. She obliged.

I set the scene. I provided the necessary context & events which led to my misfortune. I embelished small bits & built up proper suspense. I drew it out just enough & imbibed as much comedic value & timing as I possibly could, then dropped the climactic bomb at the expense of my dignity. By the time I was finished her whole body was trembling. She was still crying but this time it was because her laughter was so intense.

She was still cracking up as I tucked her in & tidied up around me. I asked if she felt better. She said yes, thanked me, and hugged me goodnight.

I was off a few days & when I returned she had yet again taken a turn for the worse. Her doctors, nurses & therapists were rapidly running out of ideas. Her body just seemed to be giving up no matter how hard she fought. When I arrived, I was informed that her, her children & her doctors had mutually decided to stop fighting & she had been put on comfort measures.

Needless to say, this was devastating to everyone. All of us on the unit had become so invested in her & had come to love her dearly. It's never easy to lose a patient, but it's so much more difficult when they & their team work & fight so hard only for their bodies to still fail them.

She hung on almost another week. Her children & grandchildren were there around the clock. We turned a blind eye when 2 or 3 of them would stay the night.

I dreaded being off another few days, afraid I would come back & she would be gone. After I clocked out before my 2 day break, I spent some extra time with her & her family in her hospital room. Christmas had come & gone & the decorations from her children & grandchildren still adorned her hospital room. The lights were off save for the the gentle Christmas lights lining her window. We talked & laughed & held hands for awhile then we took time saying goodbye. Everyone in that room hugged me so warmly & spoke so kindly. Sarah was groggy but still lucid. She too hugged me tight, thanked me for taking such good care of her. She said she felt so lucky to have ended up on our unit, with our staff & that she loved us all & wished us nothing less than wonderful futures. I got in the car & sobbed.

The day I came back I had been moved from day to night shift. She somehow knew it was her last day. She knew I would be working that night. I clocked in at 5 minutes to 7 then made a B-line down the hall to her room.

Before I got there a cathartic sort of commotion sprang from her room.

As I stepped through her doorway, one of her children cried upon seeing me. "Oh Sam! You JUST missed her!"

She was gone. She ceased to breathe seconds before I got there, on New Years Eve, 2016.

They told me she had been asking about me all day. She knew she was leaving imminently & tried to hold on to say goodbye to the night shift crew.

We all started hugging & crying together. Several of my coworkers entered the room & we all hugged & cried.

More of us than necessary helped give her body a final bath & fresh linens. She truly looked peaceful. She looked beautiful & better than she had the last 2 weeks.

After completing my routine duties with my patients I went & had another cry in the breakroom.

A few weeks later we recieved a letter from her family. It praised all of us, from the doctors to us aides for our work, dedication, compassion, & love. They named 6 or 7 of us by name, myself included.

I copied that letter & hung it in my locker. I read it every shift, sometimes more than once if the shift was rough. That letter got me through some really tough days.

I don't have a huge reason for writing this tonight other than I was thinking about her, missing her, & missing my job. I felt like more people needed to know about Sarah & how amazing she was. I guess I hope too that anyone in the medical field who stumbles across this gets a boost from it. Things are historically tough for us all right now, notably those of us in the field. People are burning out extra fast & extra intensely. But maybe this will serve as a reminder of why we do this, & how mutually impactful patients & providers can be to each other.

May Sarah & her memory always keep me grounded & focused on why I do this. I love you Ms Sarah, thank you for all you did for me too.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Taste of Home (Indruck)

Prompt for the 13th was: strange harvest

Most days, Duck isn’t too worried about the dirt on his hands or the bits of leaves that stick to his clothes. Most days, he’s not about to meet with a reclusive, wealthy donor to the Kepler Botanical Gardens who has specifically requested Duck be present. 

When he enters the meeting room, Thacker is waiting for him along with a tall, pale-haired man sporting red glasses.

“Ah, here’s Duck now.” Thacker smiles. 

“Sorry, uh, thought we weren’t meeting until-”

“-One. You’re correct, I have a habit of getting a bit, ah, ahead of things t times.” The man offers a wide smile that’s polite but also gives Duck the heebie-jeebies.

“Duck, this here is Mr. Cold. He’s one of the garden’s longest standin supporters. He’s got a project for us, and asked that you be the one in charge of it.”

“I was quite impressed with your work on the native plant section, and I’m told you headed the transplant and maintenance of the tree specimens in the New Zealand section, which is no mean feat.”

“Thanks, I’m real proud of both. What do you have in mind? Is it an exhibit?”

“A private collection. Come, let me show you.” Mr. Cold unrolls a set of plans as Duck shoots a glance at Thacker.

“Didn’t know we did that sort thing.”

“We do for Mr.Cold. Whelp, I gotta go lead a tour. Mr. Cold, I leave you in Duck’s capable hands.”

He joins the taller man in front of the plans; they’re for a garden within a greenhouse, the structure as angular and distinct as the man requesting it. He knows the greenhouse hs Cold’s name above it, is usually used as a teaching space

“I imagine you think me rather selfish for requesting to use your space in such a way.” Mr. Cold doesn’t look up from where he’s making final notes on the paper, as if the answer is a foregone conclusion. 

“Think it’s kinda strange, but I ain’t about to rule on it bein selfish until you tell me what I’m actually doin.”

“I have several species of trees, flowers, and shrubs that I need grown. They are, ah, rather difficult to cultivate anywhere other than their native home, and I am not a skilled gardener at the best of times. Hence my seeking out someone who, I presume, has not killed multiple succulents in the last two months.” The man looks a little ashamed, then clears his throat, “the plants I am asking you to grow are the only specimens of their kind on earth.”

“How’d you get them, then?” Duck tries to keep the suspicion out of his voice, but this feels more and more like some rich guy made an impulse purchase of something that should be in a seed bank or species ark somewhere.

“I brought small specimens over from my home, which is where they grow. But I couldn’t keep them alive, and they were already rare. Last I heard they were all wiped out by an, ah, an illness. I stored seeds from my specimens in hopes of one day regrowing them.”

Duck looks at the diagram closely; the plant’s are actually sketched in, not just noted by name and the number of eraser marks suggest Mr. Cold spent a long time planning out exactly where each one went.

“You’re askin us to do all this because you’re homesick?”

“Yes. I have been away from home for a long, long time. The Kepler gardens have been a refuge for me. Lately I’ve been drawn to the woodland and prairie type sections.”

“I helped with a lot of those.”

Mr. Cold turns to him with a smile, “I know. That is another reason I requested you. But, before we go any further, I must make something clear; these specimens they mean...they are so, so precious to me. And secrecy is a must, for reasons I can only half explain. They would be solely under your care and protection. If that is not a responsibility you wish to take, I understand entirely.”

Behind the red glasses, Duck can just see a glint of hope. 

“Think I’m up to the challenge.”

“Wonderful” Mr. Cold claps his hands together, “in that case, there is not a moment to lose. Here, this is everything you need.” He produces a briefcase, inside which sits ten packets of seeds and three pits, bout the size of an avocado pit.”

“All the information I have on ideal growing conditions is in the attached notebook, and the seeds are labeled. If you have any questions, ny at all, my phone number is in there s well.”

 He pauses, smiles, and murmurs to himself, “it's been awhile since I gave anyone my phone number.”

Duck opts to ignore the stealthy glance at his arms and carefully takes the case, “Thanks, this’ll all be real helpful. 

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

He doesn’t see his new patron (as Juno calls Mr. Cold) for a week. When he does, he’s on his belly, checking for any sign of sprouts in the greenhouse. 

“How goes the growing?” Mr. Cold asks from the direction of Duck’s feet. 

The gardener rolls over and sits up, “Not much to report, just trying to keep an eye on ‘em so I don’t miss anythin important.”

Mr. Cold offers his hand, helping Duck up, “I appreciate the care you’re taking, Duck. I hope it isn’t cutting into your other work too badly.”

“Had to move somethings around, but that's just the nature of this kind of work.”

Mr. Cold chuckles, “Pun intended?”

“Uh, I guess.”

“Oh. Your, h, your lunch time is coming up right? I was wondering if you would let me take you to lunch as an, ah, extra thank you?” He’s spinning a small ring on his finger, the shyness almost charming, and Duck felt neutral at best about the sandwich he brought today.

“Sure, thanks.”

Mr. Cold grins, “Oh good. Where would you like to go? I hear the crystal palace has a lovely lunch.”

“The fancy Japanese place? Pretty sure they got a dress code.”

“Brush off the dirt and you look completely respectable.”

Duck raises an eyebrow, “I was talkin about you.”

They both stare down at the classy but still very clear pajama pants Mr. Cold is wearing. 

“Fair point. How do you feel about Indian food?”

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

Duck’s stepped into some sort of painting. And here he thought he was just wandering into the birch grove. 

Indrid (“”I really prefer that name”) is laying on his back on a bench. Sun streams between the branches, falling across his face, making it all angle and shadow in ways Duck wants to sit and study. His silver hair is ruffling in the breeze, and his glasses are pushed up his forehead. Eyes shut and hands folded on his stomach, he reminds Duck of the paintings in fairytales of someone waiting for true loves kiss. 

He’s worried he might be the one to give it.

They’re having lunch once a week at least now, the awkwardness of the first time melting away as Duck got going on a tangent about dandelions only to find Indrid, elbows on the table and chin in his hands, listening to him so intently he blushed on reflex. Then he was giggling as Indrid pulled a custom-made curly straw out of a small tin in order to drink his Mango lassi. And then Indrid had laughed at his laugh and it all fell into place, the conversation so easy it’s as if they’d know each other for years. 

Then there were the frequent visits by Indrid to the greenhouse to check on the progress. Which, if Duck does say so himself, if pretty fucking good. The plants are thriving, reaching for the light, and the trees are already flowering in deep blue stars, the speed with which they reached adulthood fascinating to him. Sometimes Indrid just comes to see the gardens, but always seeks Duck out to say hello and smile that increasingly charming smile at him. 

But the biggest change has come with Indrid asking if Duck would be interested in designing a small garden for him 

“Something very simple and manageable. Hardy too.”

“Any plant preferences?”

“No, I trust your judgement entirely, though you may have to help me with their maintenance the first few weeks, if that is alright.”

Duck would have done it even if Indrid wasn't paying him. He liked sitting in the living room, surrounded by strange art and  crumpled papers, showing Indrid how to tend houseplants. And when they sit on the back porch, each dirt-smudged and grass stained, Indrid sipping soda while Duck nursed a single beer, the other man kept beaming at the new, small patch of garden, Duck’s heart wanted to burst from his chest and flutter around. 

Last night, he stayed late for dinner, and as he was checking over the houseplants…

“I’m fond of this one. It’s sturdy and makes me smile, much like you.” Indrid murmurs as he steps beside him. 

Duck slides a smile his way “Dunno, partial to this snake plant we chose; unique and kinda tall, just like you.”

It’s the worlds weakest flirtation, but as Indrid steps away his fingers tease Duck’s lower back, “I wonder if they can cross-pollinate.”

All of this is why Duck decides to leave Indrid be. Because playing prince charming to one of the gardens donors could backfire and shatter his whole career if he reads things wrong. 

The path takes him past Indrid, and he steps lightly. But just as he passes Indrid's head, cool fingers find his own. 

“How is my favorite flora expert today?” Indrid purrs, eyes still shut.

“Good. Uh. Yeah, good. How’d you know-”

“It was you? I have my ways.” Indrid grins, squeezing his hand once before letting go, “are we still on for lunch tomorrow? I can bring you that soup you like.”

“That’d be great.” Duck hesitates, reaches down and ruffles Indrid’s hair. The other man sighs, rubs his face against Ducks palm. 

“I can't wait.”

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

It takes him until ten pm to remember he left his phone in the greenhouse. Which would not be a problem, except he’s supposed to take a call early tomorrow from Jane, the first time in months they’ve been able to talk.

Plus, he’s been having an excellent text conversation with Indrid until his last rounds, sending him pictures of the plants in the greenhouse, which all look ready to bloom in the next day, and the strange fruit on the trees; speckled gold and white, and smelling faintly of marshmallow. Indrid’s reply texts were filled with excitement (and a great deal of praise, which Duck is thoroughly enjoying).  He wants to keep that going as soon as he can.

He finds his phone on the workbench, looks up just in time to see glowing red eyes reflected in the glass. 

Something’s in the greenhouse with him. Which should be impossible, because only two people have the keys. 

Turning, he scans the plants and spots a large, dark shape holding very still behind the trees. Which would work better if said trees were not so thin.

“I am aware this is not a good hiding place.”

Duck gasps, not expecting it to talk, then steps back when the creature emerges. It towers over him, antennae twitching and wings rustling slightly. His mind puts all the pieces together, and he understands only half of them. 

“Why the fuck is the mothman breakin into my greenhouse.”

The antenna flatten slightly, “I am not breaking in. Do you see any broken glass?”

“No, but I got one key, and the only other person with one ain’t here. And put those down, they ain’t yours.” Duck reaches for the two fruits, each clasped between a pair of clawed hands, only for Mothman to raise his arms. 

“They are, in fact, mine. If you would stop trying to knock me over I can explain.”

“Uh uh, first you gotta put down Indrid’s things, then you can explain.”

The creature chirrs, annoyed, and points at its neck, “His things? Such as this key perhaps?”

Duck stops moving, staring at the key before rising his gaze to the mothmans face and meeting his eyes for the first time. 

“What the fuck? Indrid, what the fuck?”

A sheepish chirp, “There was not a good way to tell you I am a famous cryptid. At least, I did not feel there was one. I was worried you would be afraid of me if you knew.”

“Feelin a little too confused to be afraid. Did, did I just grow a mothman garden instead of a butterfly garden?”

The laugh is unmistakably Indrid, “In a way. I was telling the truth when I said these were from my home, but my need for them went beyond homesickness. Every twenty five years, my kind are compelled to eat these. It is not fatal if we don’t, but we suffer a very unpleasant illness for several weeks if we do not. I resigned myself to that sickness until I began visiting these gardens, and saw there were people who might be able to help me. My own powers, including foresight, cannot replace a green thumb. Your green thumb went beyond anything I could ever have hoped for. This” he gestures to the trees with their glittering fruit, the flowers blooming in a  rainbow of glowing star-shapes, “Duck I, I haven't seen a sight like this in close to a  hundred years.”

Duck holds his breath as Indrid steps towards him, bending to rest his downy forehead against Ducks.

“Thank you, Duck Newton. Thank you for giving me a taste of home.”

The human reaches up to touch a black, fuzzy cheek, “Does this mean you gotta leave or somethin, now that I know your secret identity?”

“Not unless you are planning to tell everyone you’ve been acting as the Mothman’s personal gardener.”

“Nah, rather tell ‘em about the cute fella I’m takin to dinner tomorrow.”

Indrid blinks, “You...you do not find this alarming?”

“I mean, you’re big and a little terrifyin, but you’re still Indrid. And it means a lot that you actually stayed and told me who you were, instead of just flyin off.”

There’s a deep purr as Indrid says, “In that case, may I invite you to dinner at my house, Duck Newton? I can even share some of this strange harvest with you.”

Duck grins, drawing his fingers long Indrids arm, “That your way of tellin me they’re an aphrodisiac?”

Indrid nuzzles his cheek and pulls him close, “I guess we’ll find out.”

[judylicious]

And When He Smiles I Swear I Can’t Breathe

Alan Rubin x fem!Reader

Word count: 1,415

Fandom: Blues Brothers

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Blues Brothers characters or movies. This refers to Alan Rubin as a character in the movie, not the real Alan (although he obvsly played himself but you know what I mean)

I’d like to add that I made everyone of the band a few years younger (so the age gap between the reader and Alan isn’t that big), so he’s approx. in his early 30s.

Sophia & Lisa are two OCs created by two lovely people within the fandom.

Warnings: swearing

Chapter II

When they got to the bar Charlotte did her best to stick to her two best friends which were pretty soon wrapped into their boyfriend’s arms.

Charlotte shared a table with the two couples, Elwood and Murph, who started to report on their latest US tour, which they had ended with tonight’s concert in their home town of course. “Think we can all agree that we got the best response in the Southern cities” “Sure, those mountain people do not know anything about proper dance music and shaking a leg.” Elwood added. And then Murph told the funniest story about how the smashed his e-piano by accident on the highway and how desperate they were to find a new one before the next gig.

Jake ordered a few rounds of shots for everyone and the guys kept on telling some stories from the last few weeks. The rest of the band was lingering at the bar and Mr. Fabulous took a long glance at Charlotte. She was wearing a black dress with golden details on it, black boots and a leather jacket. He really liked her style. And she looked adorable, smiling and laughing about the jokes the others must have told. He admired the young woman for some time until he finally approached her. “May I buy the lady a drink?” “Er.. I-, I…”, she stammered. “Sure, she’d love to!”, Lisa chipped in and gave her friend a soft push towards the trumpet player, who carefully put his arm at Charlotte’s lower back, ushering her towards the bar. “So what does a girl like you likes to drink? A beer? G and T?” “Wine, please, white!”, she gave the bartender an assuring nod. Alan raised his hand. “Any particular wish?” “Right, you’ll probably judge me for that but a Chardonnay, please.. if you got any.” “Make that two, please.” They picked up their glasses and went to the nearest table. “Chardonnay, huh?”, the man laughed. “Why’s that?” “I dunno… My parents love those fancy-schmancy restaurants and I kinda started to like the taste of a good Chardonnay.” She raised her glass “Thanks for the drink, Alan. To the fancy things in life then…?” “And to your first and hopefully not last concert of the Blues Brothers Band!” The two clinked their glasses. “Cheers!” “Surprisingly this one tastes quite delish.”, Alan joked after taking a sip, checking out the bar in an exaggerated manner and they both laughed. “Well, to be honest I think wine is the only fancy thing I like. Can’t even stand the food at those restaurants, most times I order a salad, can’t do much wrong with that.” “I guess that’s true.” “How long have you been playing with these boys?” “A few years know. I know Jake back from NY City and he asked me to join these fellas. Good thing I didn’t know how nut these boys were, I’d probably have never agreed to that.” He looked at Charlotte and couldn’t quite read her face, so he quickly added “I’m just kidding, they’re great… So, what do you do when you’re not dragged to concerts of your bestfriend’s boyfriends?” “You know, college stuff. I study law.” Alan gave Charlotte an acknowledging nod. “Oh? You wanna become a lawyer?” Her mood suddenly changed. “Well, my dad is one, so…” She quickly changed the topic and cleared her throat. “May I ask you something?” “I’ll answer you everything you wanna know.” She blushed. What was he doing to her? She insecurely pushed around her glass. “Soo… Why that nickname?” She emphasised “Mr. Fabulous?” He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.” He took a big sip from his glass and licked his bottom lip after swallowing. Charlotte felt hypnotised. She couldn’t take her eyes from his sensuous chiseled lips. “I guess I AM fabulous.” Charlotte softly moaned “You certainly are.” The following awkward silence brought her back to reality. “Gosh, did I just say this? I’m so sorry.”, she apologised. “The wine must have gotten into me.” God, she wanted to slap herself for that. “It’s alright, thought it was rather cute.” She looked up from her glass into his beautiful hazelnut eyes and could have stayed there forever.

“Do you like another drink?”, he offered her. “Huh? Oh no, it’s really getting late. I think I better leave!” “Sure I’d be happy to take you home.” “Thanks for the offer, Alan but I got here with Sophia, her car’s still parked outside.” “So?” “Well I bet she wants me to drive back with her.” “I bet she don’t.” Charlotte sighed and looked over to her friend, who was sitting on Jake’s lap, one arm around his neck, wearing his hat. “Look, I’m sorry, don’t wanna force you into anything.” “Would you give me minute with her?”, Charlotte asked the handsome musician and went over to her friend. “Hey girl. Did you check the time recently? I really need to get home.” “Oh I’m sorry hun. I planned on spending the night with Jake… You know he’s been on tour so much lately, we barely got to see each other the past few months.” “Ffs, c’mon, you can’t let me down.” “On the contrary, looks like Mr.Fabulous is very eager to drive you home.” She giggled and couldn’t help noticing him at the bar, watching the two vigilantly. “How about that: You take me home and THEN you can still go to Jake’s.” “How cruel of you! That’s the most unromantic thing ever.” Charlotte squinched her eyes. “Don’t you see I’m only trying to force your luck here? He’s obviously crazy about you.” “Right, just never mind. I’m sorry, it’s just, I feel kinda overwhelmed. Enjoy your night, you two!” Charlotte gave his friends a quick smile and turned back to the man who had been waiting for her at the bar. “Seems like we’re good to go.” “Excellent. Just let me grab my jacket.” They walked down the street until they got to a black Mercedes 300SL sports car.. “Here we are.” “No way this is your car!” “Well, seems like I’ve got the keys.”, he said and opened the passenger door, holding it open for her. “This is one of my favourite models.” She stated and let her fingers trail over the passenger’s instrument board. “How do you - I mean, you’re only a trumpet player!” “Yeah but I play the flugelhorn, too.”, the quick-witted musician replied. He quickly closed the door behind her and took a seat behind the wheel. 

It was a rather awkward ride for both of them. Both thought about what to say or how to keep the conversation going but couldn’t come up with anything inventive. And Charlotte felt guilty for her remark about his car, thinking this was the reason he was so quiet. 

They finally reached Charlotte’s house. He got out of the car, walked around and opened the passenger door for her again. He held out his hand to her “Milady?” She put her hand in his and tried to get out of the car as elegant as possible.”Why thank you!” Seeing that he actually wasn’t angry at her gave her some desperately needed  courage. “Alan? I’m sorry about what I said about you owning that car… I didn’t-“ “Don’t you worry about that! Usually I’m pretty good at dishing it out in a joking way, so I have to be able to take it as well.” He shrugged his shoulders and took a look at the house in front of them. “This isn’t your home, is it?”, he asked with a smile. “What? Of course it is.” She looked over her shoulder. “What blew the secret?” “The tricycle at the front door…?” She inhaled sharply. “I mean chances still are you have a sibling at the age of 4.” Charlotte sighed. “I’m so sorry. This got nothing to do with you. My parents think I’m on some kind of girls movie night at Lisa’s. And they prefer staying up until I get home.” “No harm done. I completely understand. I hope to see you again sometime…?” “Sure, I’d like that.”, the girl smiled. “Good night then.” And with that he gave her a kiss on the hand. She couldn’t believe he just did that! What a gentleman! How freakin wholesome! She tried not to show any of her excitement on the outside when he watched her walking to the neighboured house and disappearing through the front door.

Chapter I 

[caroline18mars]

A Man On Fire - Chapter 76

“So..where to? Hotel? I’ve booked us a couple of rooms, but if you want to go back to your place, that’s fine too” Jared put his arm around her as they waved goodbye to Arno going back to his hotel after dinner, “no, that hotel is fine, somehow I don’t feel like going back home right now..” she took his hand “is it far, because I kinda feel like walking? You know, clear my head, and cuddle up close walking next to you”. He could have sworn that his heart had just exploded in his chest , why did he order two rooms? he needed to feel her, preferably underneath him..no, he was gonna be a gentleman about this, she would set the pace not the other way round, she had gone through some heavy stuff the last couple of days, flown from NY to LA and back again, see her father finally, her brother trying to reconnect, oh no, she was definitely gonna set the pace, she’ll thank you later for it. An hour and a subway ride later, it had really been too far to walk the whole distance, they walked inside the hotel where Jared picked up their keycards, handing her the one of her own room once they were in the elevator, she wasn’t ready to sleep with him yet but then again she wasn’t ready to be alone tonight either, she just wanted peace and quiet, oh why did he have to pick two rooms in the first place?, shhh, shut up Harper, at least he’s being a real gentleman about this, he’s been nothing but supportive towards you and given you all the space you want. “So, you tired or do you wanna come in for a late night drink or something?” he smiled, feeling a little awkward, “I won’t be able to sleep so yeah I’ll come in with you for a while” she stood on her tiptoes and let her lips graze against his, his body deprived for too long of her touch reacted instantly “alright” he pulled away from her and quickly opened the door and walked in, his back turned to her at all time. Why was he so quick to walk away? she’d expected him to kiss the living daylights out of her instead of checking his phone, “you ok?” she closed the distance between them, “what? Yeah sure, don’t worry about me, I’m the one who is worrying about you” he looked over his shoulder while he poured them a drink. “I mean, listening to Arno and you..it was like you two were talking in code at times” Jared handed her a glass, “code? What do you mean? We didn’t even..I even made absolutely sure not to talk Italian” she was completely lost, looking surprised and shocked about his statement.

“No, I know, but you might have well talked Italian..the ‘abuse’ subject and the way you surf so smoothly around it just breaks my heart” oucchhh, the minute the words left his mouth, he knew he had overstept his boundaries and it was clear in her reaction that he had, “excuse me? Surf smoothly? Really? This is exactly the reason I never go into details about it, nevermind, I’m tired, I’m going to bed” stay calm, Harper, you both had a rough 24 hours, you don’t want to start a fight right now, she tried to calm herself down but was almost unable to. “No, Harper, please, stay! That came out all wrong, I’m sorry” before she could grab her bag, he had already stopped her from going anywhere, “I don’t want to talk about it, Jared” she looked up at him with those big, adorable brown eyes, “I know this is hard for you, but you know you can talk to me about it, just..talk to me”. Harper hesitated, in no way was she ready to talk about this, but had she been ready to talk about it with Arno? No! but she did, and yes in a certain kind of code..or at least that's what it probably sounded and seemed like to him. “Ok, fine” she straightened her back like she was getting ready for battle, the fire in her eyes blazing now, “let’s just sit down, alright?” Jared guided her towards the super comfy couch. Ok, now that he had her attention, how the hell did you start a conversation about such a touchy subject? “what do you want to know?” she pulled her legs underneath her, nervously sipping her drink, “Come here” he leaned over to her, cupped her chin and plucked a kiss from her lips, “that’s better” he smiled, which immediately calmed her down as well. Jared cuddled up to her, putting his arm around her to make absolutely sure she felt safe and loved, he didn’t ask questions, he just let her fill in the gaps herself.

“I’ve never really discussed this with anyone” she sighed, “I know, most of us know about the abuse, but nobody knows the details of it” Jared pulled her closer against him, “not that you owe anyone an explanation or anything, I just thought you might want to get some of it off your chest, make you feel a bit better, you know”. Harper slowly sipped her drink for courage “I know and I appreciate it..I don’t know where to start” it was so difficult to start explaining because she honestly didn’t know where to begin, instead Jared fired the first shot, “he didn’t..I mean he didn’t hurt you..well you know..he didn’t sexually abuse you, did he?” Jared somehow felt his stomach drop now that the word was spoken. “What? NO! oh no no no, god no” she was shocked to hear him say it but at the same time she understood that that subject was on his mind as she probably had thrown up a lot of fog around the subject in the past by not speaking about it, “no, he never touched me in that way, my Dad may be a lot of things but not a sexual predator, that’s for sure” she immediately saw a weight lifting off his shoulders. “He just loved to punish me, and not just for things I did or did not do, I was just a punching bag for his frustrations” she shrugged, “and it was just you? He totally singled you out?” his heart was breaking but he was glad she was talking at least, “yup! After he first raised his hand at me, everything changed, my personality changed and after a while it became my new ‘normal’, my brothers and sisters always made fun of me for being the one who never said anything at the dinner table for example or for not wanting to play outside with them..my happiest moments were when he was gone on business trip and my mother usually joined him after a week or so, but then he had to come back again..”

Jared felt her shiver just talking about it. “I just don’t get it why anyone would raise his hand to his own child, I just don’t get it..but so Arno knows now..” Jared felt an anger rise up he had rarely felt, but it was key to ignore it, none of that would help her along anyway, “it’s weird, I mean, I always thought he had known for years, he never approached or talked to me about it, never had any questions, he was old enough at the time to know better..I guess that’s difficult to forget, I’ll see him tomorrow though, we agreed to meet at the gallery, he wanted to see my work and we’ll go grab a coffee, and talk some more, so..”. Jared sat up a bit, “oh..ok, so you have tomorrow all planned already..?” why was he suddenly feeling so left out?, maybe because she was only telling him now, which was so not her thing, “yes I do, but you can come too, in fact I’ll need you there, for support, you know” . Jared gave her a faint smile and a nod, “oh come on now, don’t sulk..you know what? I’m completely done with this entire topic” she turned in his arms and kissed him, her mouth drifting from his mouth to his ear down to his throat, oh yes, he definitely like the way this was going, uh-uh, but then..his phone rang through their make-out session.

“Take it”, she let go of him and got up to get another drink and just like that the moment was gone and a veil of sorrow covered her again, “oh no..it’s Steph” he hung his head in defeat, not exactly the name she wanted to hear, but hey at least he was honest about it. By the time he got back inside the room he found her curled up into a little ball on the end of the bed, even the way she slept was mesmerizing, and he was so relieved that she hadn’t given up on him and gone back to her own room, ever so gently he picked her up so she wouldn’t wake up and put her on the right side of the bed, pulling the duvet over her. He quickly dropped his clothes and slid in next to her, it felt so good to be beside her again, the warmth of her body, her long beautiful hair spread out like a halo all over the pillow, it instantly made him forget about the nasty conversation he just had with Steph, no, she wasn’t important, never was, the most precious and most important person was lying here next to him.

Harper flew up in bed waking up from a haunting nightmare, where was she? What? Who? Jared..oh god, yes the hotel, it was just a dream..”What is it? You ok? Bad dream?” Jared who had been roused from his slumber because of her bloodcurdling scream shuffled over to her pulling her against his chest, “hey shhhhh, it's ok, I'm here, it's ok” he comforted her. “What..was that?” she looked around her again, still rattled, “I need to call Arno..”, Jared shuffled even closer “call your brother? But it's the middle of night” he had no idea what was going on. When she grabbed her phone, she saw he was right, it was the middle of the night, and Arno didn't call her..maybe things were alright after all, “oh Jay, it was horrible, my Dad had died and my mother was there and she was..” she took a deep breath and shook her head, there was absolutely no need to relive it “doesn't matter..Arno would have called right?”. Jared kissed her hair “I'm sure he would have” which reassured her until she realized “just for your information, this was not where I was planning on staying..why am I in my underwear?” she looked at her state of undress. “You kidding? As if I would carry this sleeping beauty in my bed all the way back to her own room? Believe me, my back is really grateful even if you're as light as a feather!” he grinned, plucking a kiss from her lips “and yes I undressed you, nothing I haven't done before right?”. She leaned into the kiss and deepened it before she slowly pulled back and breathed “and I loved every second of every time you did” she could tell he was trying to be a good boy about this, respecting the boundaries that had been put in place by her, but those days were gone, she needed him and from as far as she could tell, he needed her too. Harper took his hand and lifted it up to her shoulder, making sure he couldn't do anything else than hook a finger under her bra strap “babe..I don't know..” his voice was raspy and unstable, he knew what she wanted but was it for all the right reasons? If they did this then there was no way back and what if she wanted to stop when it got too much after all? He didn't know, no, he was absolutely sure he wouldn't be able to stop. “Oh but I know..I'm absolutely sure..I want you, I need you” she breathed against his mouth again and sat up a bit so he had better access, and  gave him the opportunity to push the strap down her shoulder. The touch of his hand on her naked skin was absolutely electrifying and finally he was pushed over the edge and he wasted no time to unclasp her bra, dropping it between them, and from then on everything happened so quick. He pushed her back on the mattress, his hungry mouth grazing over her already hard nipple. “I love you so much” he whispered, making sure her other nipple didn't feel left out, his hands were taking their time rediscovering her glorious body.