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scoopsgf · 5 years ago

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can i get a good night’s sleep? can i PLEASE get a good night’s sleep?!

or: five times peter parker doesn’t sleep + the one time he does

my contribution to the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange! this is for @snarky-drabbles - I hope you enjoy it!

The first time is actually just the first in a while. Peter’s had problems sleeping ever since he was a little kid; it was just one issue of many that stacked up on top of each other, resulting in his personal belief that he must be the most difficult kid to look after on the planet.

Asthma meant hundreds of dollars spent on inhalers, covering what their shitty insurance didn’t. His poor eyesight was the same story and the bullies that used to break his glasses had never helped. But it wasn’t just physical crap, of course: he’s had anxiety for as long as he can remember.

There are cute side-effects like panic attacks and nausea, not to mention the constant sense of impending doom he’s been nursing since… well, birth, probably. When he was younger he’d worry about whether or not the taxi driver had enough gas in his car to get them where they needed to go, or maybe Ben would get shot at work (ironically enough, he’d never worried that Ben would get shot off-duty, and there is a teeny superstitious sliver of him that believes maybe if he had considered the possibility it never would have happened, like some kind of a reverse jinx or something).

One of the other cute things that comes along with it is insomnia.

So here he is, pacing in his kitchen at three in the morning because May isn’t home yet.

Her shift ended at two. She’s usually back within a half hour considering the hospital isn’t far, hence his agitation.

He’s tried calling and texting to no avail, and he keeps telling himself that everything is fine, that she probably just got held up; meanwhile his subconscious provides a great slideshow of mental images that speak to the opposite—her getting kidnapped because somehow someone links her to Spider-Man, her getting hit with a car, mugged, shot, slipping on black ice—and that’s actually not far-fetched considering it’s January, there’s a lot of it, and so he pulls out his phone and types, You didn’t slip on black ice and die did you? to May.

No little dots appear to signify that she’s typing. The message doesn’t even change from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’.

She has her read receipts on. She’s promised him. There’s no reason she’d change that, right? But maybe she accidentally switched them off when she was scrolling through her settings.

He calls her.

“Hi, this is May Parker, I’m unavailable at the moment but if you leave me a message I’ll get back to you as soon as—”

Peter hangs up with a dissatisfied grunt.

It’s only then that he realises, to his great dismay, that he’s paced all the way onto the ceiling.

In his shock he loses concentration and falls. “Ow, fuck.” He pulls his aching knee to his chest. It’ll no doubt be bruised soon. “God has forsaken me.”

He picks up his now cracked phone and texts Ned:

I just fell off the ceiling at 3 AM in the morning

Don’t ask me what I was doing on it

Every bone in my body is broken :(

No reply comes which is pretty typical; Ned probably passed out in front of his PC like, hours ago. Peter can picture it: the light of his computer screen casting a blue glow over everything in the room, his head probably tucked into his arms to muffle his snores (and there’s also probably a bowl of stale popcorn spilled across his floor at this point), his creepy mother lurking in the doorway—or worse, trying to find out how to snoop through his laptop while he’s out of it.

Peter could totally go swing down there and help the guy out. It would be something to do anyway.

But no. The door is too far. His suit… too much work. It’s definitely better to just stay here curled up under the table like a little turtle.

But wait—a blanket.

Is it worth the effort? Probably. Peter scans his immediate surroundings and, oh boy, Lady Fate is actually on his side tonight because there’s a gigantic purple fluffy one hanging off the couch and it only takes a little bit of physical exertion to yank it down and wrap it around his body.

He burrows deeper into it and scrolls through Instagram. MJ posted a picture of a banana today. Literally like, just a banana. No caption, no explanation on her story, nothing.

Peter double taps it and comments: i hope u asked before u took his jacket

No like. No reply. That makes sense. It is three in the fucking morning, after all.

No. Three thirty. It’s been an hour and a half.

What had May said once? That it was okay to call someone if she was two hours late?

Peter tries texting and calling one more time and then just sits there, staring at his home screen and watching the minutes pass. At exactly four AM after much deliberation and stomach churning, he calls someone else.

Three rings later: “I’m in Vienna right now so this better be good.”

Peter feels even more nauseous than before. “Oh,” he says. “I guess—never mind, then. Sorry.”

“Wait, wait, that was just for show and I’m greatly intrigued as to why you’re calling me so… early? Late? Anyway I’m out of the conference room now so lay it on me.”

Against his will, Peter’s lip quirks up. “Um, it’s kind of stupid—”

“Nothing is ever stupid,” Tony says. “Especially when it’s coming from the brain of a kid with an intelligence quotient of 260.”

He feels his cheeks heat up and then it all just comes tumbling out, “It’s really late and May was supposed to be off at two and home by two-thirty, but she’s not and I don’t know what to do. I tried calling and texting but she’s not replying and I know that I’m probably just building it up in my head but I can’t help freaking out because like, what if she got stabbed or slipped on black ice or—”

“Hey Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe.”

Tony’s voice has softened immeasurably. Something uncoils in Peter’s stomach. He flops onto his side and closes his eyes. “I’m breathing.”

“That’s good, kiddo. Now just hang on a sec, I’m gonna call the hospital.”

“What? Why?”

“Well she works there, right?”

“...Yeah.”

“And you haven’t tried calling them yet, correct?”

“...Correct.”

“Ergo,” Tony says.

“But I—”

“Yeah?”

Peter bites his lip and then he just blurts it: “I don’t want you to hang up.”

He feels like such a child but the thought of losing connection with Tony is literally making his heart palpitate and his palms sweat. He needs someone. He needs an adult.

“Well lucky for us both I have two phones.”

Peter cracks an eye. “You what?”

“I’m Tony Stark, don’t question it. Hang on, let me just—hello, hi, um, I need this room. No, it can’t wait. Yes the whole room. Yes locked. I don’t know, five minutes? Ten? An hour? No, I’m not joking. Thank you. Thanks. Yeah. Okay. Bye now.” Something slams shut—the door to the office Tony just stole, probably. “Okay, just a sec, I have the number for the reception desk she works at in my phone.”

Peter, for some reason, feels immeasurably comforted by that. He sits in silence gnawing on his lip while Tony has a somewhat muffled conversation he can’t hear the other side of. Then, “You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Okay, well, they said she’s covering for someone and can’t get to the phone because a baby had to have emergency surgery so she’s literally in the OR as we speak. Pretty badass and not bad as far as excuses go. Now that you know she’s fine and not dead by ice, how about you get some shut-eye, okay kid?”

Peter swallows. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Tony.”

“No Mr. Stark this time, huh?”

“It’s too late for formalities.”

“I see,” Tony replies. “Sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

The line goes dead. Peter, slightly relieved but not fully consoled, rolls over to face the door. He doesn’t sleep at all that night and is still there when May comes home at six in the morning with bagels and apologies.

—

The anniversary of Ben’s death is always super weird.

This time it takes him a few minutes to remember what day it is: he’s in the middle of brushing his teeth and then it hits him like a train: oh, it’s been three years.

Then comes May. She usually tries to cook something for breakfast but like always it burns. He leaves the bathroom to the sound of the smoke alarm and fans a cookie sheet at the screeching little device while she swears up and down in Italian.

“It’s okay, May, really—”

“No, it’s not!” She snaps, tossing a batch of blackened cinnamon rolls into the trash. “I just want this day to be easy for you!”

Peter goes over to her and, after kicking the oven door shut with his foot, pulls her into his arms. May starts to cry even though she tries not to; sniffles turn into barely stifled sobs. He knows that it’s harder for her than it is for him. Ben was her husband and they’d been married for thirteen years when he died. Sometimes he still catches her looking to see if he’s laughing too when they watch TV, only to find an empty recliner.

“It’s okay for it to be a bad day,” he whispers. “You know that, right? I mean, I love you to pieces, May, but I don’t wanna see you bending over backwards for me.”

“But that’s my job, doofus.”

Peter pulls back. He’s an inch taller than her now. “No it’s not. We take care of each other, okay?”

Then comes school. Ned usually hovers nervously like an agitated gnat, too afraid to say anything, not sure if he should act normal or be sad in solidarity, which means it’s kind of Peter’s job to set the tone. As he’s putting his combination in for his locker he asks, “So did you beat that level of Obra Dinn last night?”

Ned, shoulders slumping with relief, starts to ramble on about how hard it was to do and how it took him like, thirty whole tries.

They go to class. Peter zones out. He doesn’t bother making more web fluid or ditching and he gets so inside his own head that Coach Wilson compliments him again during gym class. Peter deliberately slows down after that, even if it’s kind of irritating; being physically active actually helps work off his anger.

Because that’s what he is more than anything else: angry. At the mugger, yeah, but at himself more than anything else. It was his fault that they were out that night, anyway. It’s a wonder that May doesn’t hate his fucking guts.

When school is up Peter comes home to an empty house. He thinks about going on patrol but doesn’t really feel up to it, and then he feels bad for not wanting to do it because like, what if someone is dying?

So he puts on the suit and swings from rooftop to rooftop, but there’s no action today. Peter eventually settles on a fire escape with a burrito. A stray cat hops up after a while and, despite his matted fur and crazy eyes, Peter decides he has a kind of quiet dignity about him and names him Charles.

“Do you like beef?” He asks, holding some out for Charles to sniff. The cat yowls and, without any warning other than that, nearly chomps Peter’s fingers off to get the meat.

“Ow, jeez!” Peter shakes his wrist. “I was literally giving it to you for free, but go off I guess.”

Charles blinks his big brown marble eyes and then literally jumps off the fucking ledge. Peter leans over and watches him scamper across the street, somehow not getting hit by any traffic. Sometimes he thinks his spidey sense is more like feline sense in that way: he could probably manage the same thing with his eyes closed.

After a while the sun sets and all of the streetlights turn on. Peter does another patrol around the immediate vicinity but again, nothing. He stays out anyway though because he’d rather do his Chemistry homework behind a dumpster than sit alone in the apartment with nothing but the quiet for company. At least out and about there are sewer rats and mangy dogs and shady characters who actually just turn out to be skateboarders.

Peter is almost done with his assignment when the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He looks up and finds Iron Man himself coming in for a landing. The suit drops with a barely audible clunk; it’s Mark 54, the sleekest and most lightweight model yet.

“Oh thank God,” says Tony’s voice, “you’re not dead.”

Peter frowns even though Tony can’t see it. “No,” he agrees slowly. “Why would I be dead? What are you doing here?”

“Well, your aunt called me in a panic at around four when she got home and you weren’t there, and then I checked the scanners and saw that you’d been here, completely stationary, for like five whole hours—needless to say I had a little bit of a heart attack and here I am, relieved and also mildly infuriated. Care to explain, young padawan?”

Peter opens his mouth to speak. Closes it. Opens it again and, “It’s four AM?”

“Four fifteen,” Tony corrects.

“I didn’t even—I didn’t know! Shit, May’s totally gonna kill me, I might as well be dead—”

“Woah woah woah,” the faceplate lifts, “calm down, okay? No one is mad. Just, uh, concerned, I promise.”

Peter is still frantically packing up his school supplies and not really listening. He only stops when Tony gently touches him by lightly gripping his elbow. “Kid?”

Peter stares down at the older man’s hand. Behind the mask his eyes start to burn. “Ben died.”

“Pardon?”

“Ben died,” he repeats louder. “In this alley. Two years ago.”

All at once Tony’s face falls. He moves to sit by Peter on the grimy floor of the alley while the suit hovers nearby, a hollow shell, just the way Peter feels now.

“Kid,” Tony says, “take off the mask.”

“What? No, I’m in public—”

“No one’s around,” Tony says. “Just take it off, okay?”

Peter does, reluctantly peeling it back to reveal his tear-stained cheeks. Tony stares for a second and then, almost hesitantly, he wraps his arms around Peter. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I—” he chokes. “I’m just so tired. I’m tired of having to watch May be strong for me when I can’t be strong back, and I’m tired of Ben not being around. I miss him and it—it’s not fair.”

“Of course it’s not. It’s never fair. That’s why it hurts, kiddo. You’ve got all this love and no place to put it.”

Peter bites his lip to stop it from quivering and looks away, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I just feel pathetic.”

“Don’t,” Tony says firmly. “I felt the same way after my mom died and it… In some ways I don’t think the feeling ever actually went away, but uh, take it from someone who’s had a lot more time to process: no one is expecting anything from you, okay? And I can guarantee there’s not a single human that thinks two years is long enough to be perfectly fine again. You’re allowed to still be upset about this.”

And Peter is. He’s really, really fucking upset about it and so tired of holding it in. Tony pulls him against his chest when Peter starts to cry and it sort of seems like he’ll never be able to stop. There’s just so much, so much guilt and pain and all kinds of other bullshit that he refuses to lay on May.

So he lays it on Tony. And it’s surprisingly not horrible or awkward or even the end of the world.

“You good?” the older man asks, when Peter finally sobers up enough to wipe his cheeks dry and take a few steadying breaths.

“Yeah,” he says, voice ragged and awful-sounding. “Um, sorry. For freaking you and May out and ruining your shirt, I mean.”

“You know there’s this really snazzy invention called a washing machine—”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Tony laughs and it makes Peter laugh too, and the tension between them just sort of dissipates. “Speaking of clothes,” Tony claps his hands together, “you got any to wear in that backpack?”

“Uh, jeans and a hoodie?”

“Fantastic, incredible. Throw them on, I’m taking you out for breakfast.”

“But what if someone sees?!”

“Let ’em. I’ll have Pep release a statement claiming you as my personal assistant or head intern or something.”

“That’s totally unrealistic.”

“Do I care? No. Just—okay? Up and at ’em, make haste, come on. What do you feel like, pancakes or waffles?”

They bicker about which is better the entire way to the little diner Tony choses, and Peter comes home full an hour later. May is fast asleep at the kitchen table. He kisses her forehead and starts on breakfast for her.

—

He’s thirty minutes into helping MJ study for her AP French test when she finally gets a question wrong. “‘Il n'est pas clair que’?” Peter queries, holding up the flash card.

“‘It’s not certain that’?”

He makes a pitying noise. “Close. ‘It’s not clear that’.”

“What’s not clear, exactly? That if I see one more word in French I’m gonna blow my brains out?”

Peter snorts. “No, actually it says more clarification is required on how much you like your boyfriend. Suggestions to improve that include: a hug, a kiss, both—”

“Neither?”

He pouts. “Mean.”

MJ rolls her eyes, but she kisses him first. She tastes like the Twizzlers they’ve been eating and her hands are in his hair and she laughs when he presses his lips to her cheeks and nose and forehead.

They somehow end up in an incredibly compromising position. “You know,” MJ muses, “I don’t think I’ve been studying the right kind of French.”

Peter, hovering over her (oops), nods in agreement. “This kind is definitely way better.”

She wraps her arms around his neck and he’s so consumed with this: her and him and the smell of her jasmine shampoo—that he almost doesn’t hear it.

Almost.

Peter rips away abruptly. “What was that?”

She groans. “God, you’re such a dog sometimes.”

He ignores her, sitting alert with his eyes narrowed at the window and, sure enough, there it is again: a faint, blood-curdling scream. “Someone’s being attacked or something. Maybe four blocks away tops.”

MJ squints. “Don’t tell me you can echolocate.”

“I—” Peter’s mouth snaps shut and then opens again. “I actually don’t know. Anyway, I gotta go.”

He presses a quick kiss to her cheek, throws on his jacket, and quickly ducks out her fire escape (which happens to be the same way that he came in). He slips the mask on and tosses his hood up; it’s raining in heavy, icy sheets and Peter is drenched within seconds of swinging. He remembers the first time he’d gone out during a storm; the webbing he’d made hadn’t held up because the chemical formula hadn’t accounted for the massive amounts of water-based reaction, so the biocables had evaporated as they left his shooters. Thankfully he hadn’t jumped first that day, otherwise he would be a Peter Pancake.

Another scream sounds. Peter follows it and winds up latched onto the side of a two-story brick building. There’s an incredibly dark alley below, but a quick flash of lightning tells him everything he needs to know: one man is trying to wrestle a woman down, while another is rifling through her purse. He’s also holding a gun.

“Oh, cute,” he mutters sarcastically.

Peter tries to time it right: he takes aim and shoots a web right at the weapon with the next bout of lightning, but to his immense misfortune, the armed mugger had already seen him and was aiming right back. The bullet hits Peter in the side.

“Ow,” he says, “that was uncalled for.”

He drops. His side is throbbing and hot but he ignores it in favour of disarming the guy who shot him. It’s a brief struggle but Peter ends up whacking the gun out of his hand and webbing it to the wall opposite. Then he knocks the guy out with a solid upper cross to the temple.

Peter rounds. The assailant has already fled, leaving the woman shivering but relatively unharmed.

“You okay, ma’am?” he asks.

“Me? That guy shot you!”

Peter looks down at his side which is now stained with blood. “Oh, yeah.”

He’d actually forgotten for half a second. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, he’s starting to really feel it: a burning sensation in his abdomen, an aching that pulses from his stomach to his chest. Ah. Wonderful.

A little dazed, he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me. Super healing. Are you good? You need me to call you a cab?”

“What? No, um—the police station is like, down the block, I can go get them.”

“Are you sure? Because I can totally do that—”

“I can handle myself,” she says sharply, bending down to pick up her purse and the discarded items within. “It’s just… there were two of them and there was a gun and—”

“I get it,” Peter says, his hand pressing harder into his side as the world grows blurrier around the edges. “You really don’t want me to at least walk you down?”

“I’ll take a taxi,” she says. “You just, um, get yourself fixed up, okay? And thanks.”

“Yeah, sure, anytime! But, y’know, preferably never again,” Peter says, and proceeds to swing away.

—

Tony doesn’t expect to get woken up at two AM after only just falling asleep five minutes before, but such is life; FRIDAY’s voice bleeds through the speakers above to inform him that Spider-Man is currently rifling through the Med-Bay and bleeding from a wound on his side.

Pepper looks at him. “You heard that too, right? That was real?”

“It was real.”

They both scramble out of bed. Tony takes the lead, throwing on his jacket as he runs toward the elevator. It’s times like these when every second stretches out into an eternity; it takes maybe five of them to get from their floor to the Med-Bay, but it feels like forever.

The doors open and there’s Peter, perched on a gurney with his shirt gone and a whole lot of blood staining his side. He’s bent awkwardly, clearly trying to feel his way around whatever wound he’s got.

“Um,” Tony says, approaching, “What.”

Peter looks up and—yeah, he’s lost a lot more blood than Tony had originally thought. His face is fucking drained. “Hey,” he says, offering a jaunty wave before returning his attention to his side. “I got shot.”

“Oh!” Tony nods. “Oh, okay. What the fuck, kiddo?”

“I know, right?” Peter glances up. “Hey, Pepper.”

“Peter,” she returns. “Do you mind if I wash my hands and take a look at that?”

“If you want. It’s kinda gross, though.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

Through this exchange Tony was already washing up, and now he dons a pair of gloves and sits on the rolling stool. “Looks like it’s through and through,” he tells Pep over his shoulder. “Could you grab a couple suture kits and, uh, the stuff?”

Pepper makes a face. “The stuff?”

“You know,” Tony says, “The Good Stuff.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, that stuff.”

Tony feels around the area. “Do you know what kind of gun was used?”

“Looked like your standard nine mil,” Peter replies. His voice is growing a little slurred.

That’s good though, about the gun. Means there’s probably not any bullet fragments to worry about. Tony grabs a load of gauze and presses it against the wound. He checks Peter’s pulse while he’s at it and finds that it’s slowed considerably. “We’re gonna have to get you some blood, too. A neg, right?”

“Yuppers.”

Tony excuses that because after all, the kid is bleeding out on a table. Said kid actually starts to swing his legs back and forth and, yeah, that’s not gonna fly. “Do me a favour and lay back? I’m gonna put this towel right under you for now.”

Peter doesn’t have any arguments, or if he does, he doesn’t vocalise them. Pepper comes back in with the kits and drugs and, because she’s just smarter than him like that, bags of blood.

Tony grabs the vials first and loads up a syringe. Peter is pretty numb to all of it until the needle goes in. Then he frowns. “Why are you injecting me with alien blood?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “It’s not alien blood, it’s a pain killer. A serious one at that, so you’re probably gonna feel a little out of it for a while, okay?”

Peter frowns. “Is it for Steve?”

Tony tenses, but it’s only for a second. “Yes,” he says, somewhat tightly.

“Ugh. What a turd, Mr. Stark. You’re giving me turd vitamins!” Tony scoffs while Pepper laughs. Peter notices. “See? She thinks I’m funny.”

“You’re not helping me here,” Tony says to her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Here, have some thread.”

Tony sighs. “Just stay still for me, okay?”

Peter does. Pepper passes him various supplies and they work together to sew up both ends of the gunshot wound. By the time they’re done, Peter hasn’t moved once, but his eyes are open and he’s frowning.

“How do you feel?”

“Wired,” he says.

“Seriously? Bruce never said anything about the side-effects, but I figured they’d be like normal pain-killers; make you drowsy and all that.”

“No,” Peter sits up quickly and doesn’t even flinch. “I feel like I just got steroids or something. Are you—are you actually telling me that Captain America’s drugs are infused with a stimulant? What, so he can keep fighting even when he’s in the middle of dying?”

Tony blinks. “Well that was smart of dear Banner.”

“Yeah, or insane.” Peter flexes his hands. “I feel like I need to go for a run, or like, break something.”

“Let’s avoid that,” Tony says, pushing him back down. “You need to heal, not mess yourself up even more, understood?”

Peter stares. “Is it normal to see sounds?”

Pepper bursts out laughing again. “I’m sorry,” she says when Tony glares. “Really, I am, I promise. Peter, honey, how about we get you to a bedroom where you can rest up? We’ll call your aunt and explain everything.”

—

Everything is going fine until May asks, “How did you get to the Tower so quick, then?”

Peter blinks. “Hmm? Pardon?”

“If you were at Ned’s,” May says, “how’d you manage to swing all the way across town?”

Peter opens his mouth and closes it. “I, uh… well, funny story, um… I wasn’t actually at Ned’s?”

There’s a pause over the phone. Pepper, who’s holding it, raises an eyebrow. May says: “You told me you were going to Ned’s, Peter.”

His face feels hot. He hopes it isn’t red. Both Pepper and Tony—from the doorway with his hands stuffed in his sweatpant pockets—are staring. It’s almost as bad as if May were really here.

“Well I was going to Ned’s, but then I changed my mind and went somewhere else and oh—look at the time! I think we’re going through a tunnel—”

“Don’t even try to pull that crap! That’s it, I’m coming over there—”

“May,” Peter says, serious now, “you’re in the middle of a shift, there’s people dying. Just—I’m perfectly fine, I took my Captain America drugs and everything is gonna be okay.”

“But you lied to me.”

“No, I changed my mind.”

“And went where?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Peter.”

“May.”

She groans from the other end of the line and demands to speak to Pepper one on one. Tony’s fiancé grins and switches off speaker, before slipping out with a bright laugh to finish off the conversation. Tony stares expectantly. “So where were you?”

“Oh my god, not you too. You know, on second thought, I actually am completely exhausted and—”

“Uh, nope,” Tony flops down onto the bed. “Fess up.”

Peter sighs. He squirms down and covers his pillow with a head. “No.”

Tony joins him under it. “Tell me.”

Peter scowls. He rolls onto his side so they’re facing one another. “I was with my girlfriend.”

“Oooo—”

“Shush! It’s… it’s really not a big deal and I haven’t told May yet because MJ and I haven’t even really talked about it and it all happened super fast and—” he remembers to breathe, “I just… I always tell May everything, you know? But I kind of just felt like… this was something I had to figure out first on my own. Maybe it’s stupid, but I know she’s gonna be super hurt when she finds out it’s been a month and I haven’t said anything—”

“Kid,” Tony cuts in. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Peter promises, because he is. He’s also just incredibly hyper and stressed.

“It’s a normal instinct to want to figure things out and define them before you start announcing them to the world. I get that. But you’re still a kid, Pete, and even if you don’t want people prying into your love life, we still need to know where you are in case something goes wrong.”

Peter harrumphs as he turns away. “There’s a tracker on my phone and my suit. It would be easier to find me than anything else.”

Tony clicks his tongue. “You got a point there.”

“I just wanted time.”

“I know.”

“But I really like her, okay? Like she’s so smart and she’s got this really dark sense of humour and she’s actually kind of terrifying sometimes—”

“Oh, the scary ones are always fun.”

They stay up talking through the night and, when the sun comes up, Pepper joins them with a tray of freshly made blueberry waffles. May arrives around the same time and, looking too tired to be mad, simply drops onto the bed with them and steals what’s left of his food.

—

Peter is on patrol when he hears it:

a soft, quiet yelping coming from somewhere down below the rooftop he’s perched on.

At first he figures he’s imagining things, but then his ears perk again. He leans over the building’s edge to find the source of the noise.

In the dark it’s hard to make anything out, so he climbs slowly down the side of the wall, squinting. There’s another yelp and a low whine, almost pained. Peter zeroes in on the sound and creeps toward a set of dumpsters; they’re so full of trash they’re overflowing, and it’s underneath a broken down cardboard box that he finds it...

A puppy.

Now, Peter is no liar. He’s wanted a dog since he was like, a fetus. The words ‘A dog’ have been on every birthday and Christmas list for as long as he can remember. It’s only recently, in the years since Ben’s death, that he’s pretty much given up—after all, May is so overworked and they can barely afford to feed themselves. How could they afford a pet?

But also…

This is the cutest dog he’s ever seen.

It’s tiny and fluffy and brown and has the biggest, saddest eyes he’s ever seen.

Peter kind of just stands there staring like an idiot for a good few seconds and then slowly kneels down. “Um, hi,” he says, in the gentlest voice he can manage. The puppy, who can’t be older than a few weeks and looks completely starved and exhausted, whines in response.

Peter holds out his hand for the dog to sniff. It lifts its head lazily and leans forward, nose twitching and dry. “You need water, huh? Come on, I know a place.”

—

“Shelob,” Tony greets without looking up from whatever project he’s working on. “What can I do for you at… one in the fucking morning?”

“I need your help with something, but you have to promise you won’t get mad or make me get rid of him—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, what have you done now?”

“He was just so helpless and cold and small and…” Peter swallows and reveals the puppy, presently wrapped up in his hoodie. “Meet Nugget.”

Tony’s face is the epitome of Disappointed Dad. He stares, open-mouthed, and after a second his shoulders fall. “Well, fuck.”

Peter snuggles Nugget against his chest and steps closer, but then Tony holds up a hand to stop him. “Nah-ah! Not until that thing gets a flea bath!”

Hope sparks in Peter’s chest. “You mean we can keep him?”

“I mean there’s no way I’m getting near him until I know I won’t break out in hives.”

“That’s not how fleas work.”

“Do I care? No. Come on, let’s go to the bathroom.”

—

“Why do you have flea shampoo?”

Peter’s inquiry is made tentatively. They both have their hands in the sud-filled sink as they systematically wash Nugget’s fur.

“There was… an incident a while ago. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Peter stares. Blinks. “Okay. Well, I think he’s clean.”

Nugget barks as if in agreement, and so Peter and Tony lift him out of the basin and set him on a pile of no doubt expensive, fluffy white towels. Tony takes the lead after that. He’s surprisingly gentle and patient with the yapping, impatient puppy—even when Nugget tries to claw at him and shake himself dry, Tony never loses his cool.

A few minutes later they’re sitting on their stomachs watching Nugget stomp around on a blanket. There’s water in a bowl for him at one corner and a plate of chopped up chicken at another.

“I can’t take him home,” Peter says morosely after a few minutes. “May won’t let me keep him.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Where does she even think you are right now?”

“...In my bed.”

“Wow,” Tony says, deadpan. “Okay, well, I most certainly can’t keep him either.”

“What?! Why not?!”

Tony sighs. “I’m Iron Man, if you hadn’t noticed, kiddo—”

“Oh, what, so you’re too tough to look after him?”

“No, I’m too busy. I spend like, twenty-three out of twenty-four hours in a day in my shop and the rest of the time I’m on my knees apologising to Pepper and begging for forgiveness. There’s no time in-between to feed the pup, walk the pup—”

“I could come by,” Peter blurts. “Like, once a day, and I could make sure he’s eaten and play with him and stuff. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger—”

“Except to press ‘purchase’ on my shopping cart full of dog food—”

“Tony,” Peter cuts in, pleading, “please? I can’t just drop him off at some kennel so they can—” he covers the dog’s ears, “so they can euthanize him in a week when no one buys him. He deserves so much better, you know?”

Tony frowns, considering it, and Peter waits with his breath caught in his throat until, “God, fine.”

“Yes!”

“But! But! A pet is a serious responsibility, okay? You might as well be adopting a child—”

“What would you know about raising kids?” Peter asks, only jokingly, but Tony just stares and then, for some reason, smiles.

“You have to make sure he’s happy,” Tony says. “You have to be there for him in whatever way he needs, alright? I’ll set up a pen in the penthouse and you can make sure he works off his energy there, and if I have time I’ll even take you both to the park. And if he ever happens to pee on my carpet, I’m counting on you to clean it up.”

“Don’t you have, like, housekeepers for that sort of thing?”

“Yeah, but this is character building stuff.”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll clean up the pee.”

They continue to iron out the details for a while and bicker over whether Nugget’s last name should be Parker or Stark, and it’s only when Pepper walks in—still in her pajamas, bleary eyed and complaining that they woke her up—that they both decide it should be ‘Potts’.

—

5. (+1)

It starts with a headache.

He’s bent over his desk studying for a Calc test when the throbbing begins. It’s not so bad at first, but after a half hour or so his vision is swimming and he keeps having to take breaks to massage his temples and close his eyes. The equations are all blending together and he can’t think straight anymore.

Peter decides to give up right around then. After all, if he’s not gonna retain any of the information, why bother?

May pokes and prods through dinner. Peter tries to fool her by acting like everything is normal and okay and even manages to make her laugh once or twice.

Inside, dread is coiling through his stomach like an irritated snake. He knows what’s coming next; after all, he doesn’t really get sick anymore, so what else could it be?

Peter tries to sleep but ends up tossing and turning for most of the night. He falls into some kind of half-conscious daze at around four in the morning and rouses about twenty minutes later, soaked with sweat and aching everywhere.

Feeling like he’s gonna vomit, Peter kicks off his blankets and strips the sheets off his bed. He takes his shirt off because the fabric is too abrasive against his skin and it’s like he can feel every fibre tickling against it, grating and chafing. He curls up into a tight ball and covers his ears with his hands to block out the now amplified sounds of the city: car alarms, dogs barking, music playing.

Normally Peter loves the way New York is never silent. Now, he just wishes everyone would shut the fuck up for once.

When he stumbles out of his room a little while later, May is already gone. She’d told him the night before that she had an early shift and for once he’s actually grateful. Haltingly, Peter gets ready for school. He’s already skipped three days this month and if he misses this Calc quiz he’s gonna fucking bomb the class.

May would kill him.

It’s better to suffer a little than die.

Brushing his teeth makes his head spin and the minute he wriggles into his clothes he feels like a caged animal about to claw his skin off. Everything takes so much longer than normal. He doesn’t eat because the mere thought of food makes the back of his throat sting with bile.

On the train, he closes his eyes and rests his head against the cool glass of the window, trying to tune out the constant screeching of the rails. One day, on God, he will make it a personal project to oil every fucking line in the subway.

At his fifth stop, an old lady boards and all the seats are taken.

Peter swallows thickly and stands. Black spots dance in his vision and he grabs onto the overhead bar—something he hasn’t actually needed to use since he was a little kid—and tries not to pass out.

He almost misses the stop to get to school, but slips out at the last second, millimetres away from getting his backpack caught in the doors. Peter is hot all over and lightheaded as he makes his way out of the station. It’s even hotter up above, what with summer coming now and all.

Peter is late and he doesn’t need his watch to tell; Flash’s car is already parked out front instead of zooming through the drop off to run him over (which, hey, silver lining), and the majority of the student body is already inside.

Peter has to stop multiple times on his way to Spanish just to breathe. By the time he gets there he’s at least ten minutes late for roll call.

“Mr. Parker,” his teacher greets, unimpressed. “So glad you could join us.”

Peter makes a noise and takes the proffered quiz. He wonders absently why some people choose to teach. What is it, like, some kind of power trip for them?

He has five minutes to finish the quiz but doesn’t make it past the first question. Ned volunteers to collect them and stops at Peter’s desk while Professor Scott outlines today’s lesson plan.

“Dude,” he whisper-hisses, “you look like complete shit. What on Earth are you doing here right now?”

“Test,” Peter mutters dully, resting his cheek on his hand and closing his eyes. “Here you go. Didn’t finish it.”

Ned takes it carefully, holding it with two fingers like it’s covered in disease. “Do you want me to get the nurse or something?”

Peter hums. “No. Just… headache.”

Slowly Ned backs away. “Um—”

“Mr. Leeds!” Professor Scott says, loudly. Ned jumps. “Is there a problem back there?”

Yes, Peter thinks. You’re the human version of nails on a fucking chalk board. Please, for the love of all that is holy, just start on the vocab.

Only he accidentally says all of that out loud.

The whole class is staring. Flash is slack-jawed. Betty Brant’s eyes are the size of small moons.

“Parker,” Scott grits out—and Peter has denominated him to just Scott now out of reciprocation and spite; “You just earned yourself a shiny new detention. I’d like you to take this slip to the principal’s office. Please.”

Oh, thank God. At least it’ll be quiet there.

Peter stands and brushes past Ned and it literally feels like flames of hell are licking against his skin. He almost vomits. This is decidedly not good.

He takes the paper. “Gladly, good sir.”

When he’s gone, there’s an outburst of muttering that his enhancements let him hear. It only makes the overload worse. Peter covers his ears with his hands again and, overcome with a sudden wave of vertigo, ducks into the bathroom.

He barely makes it to the toilet before emptying his stomach of last night’s food.

Peter sags against the wall, panting. He keeps his eyes closed and waits for the world to stop spinning. About ten minutes later, the smell of jasmine shampoo—normally welcome—causes him to lean over and retch again.

MJ pokes her head inside the unlocked stall. “Jesus,” she whispers. The second her hands touch his body he flinches and she immediately retracts them. “Fuck, sorry. Ned said you wigged out in Spanish. I looked for you in the Principal's office but you weren’t there and... What’s—what’s wrong? I thought you couldn’t even get sick.”

“Bad headache,” he mutters, spitting into the toilet. It’s easier than explaining about his freakish mutations and how they sometimes go completely haywire, leaving him on edge and nauseous and irritable.

MJ grabs him some toilet paper to wipe his mouth with. “Did you take anything?”

“Pain meds don’t work on me.”

“Does May know? You should have called in.”

“Couldn’t. Can’t miss my test.”

She sighs. “Your final is like fifty percent of your grade and you could pass it with your eyes closed. You can miss your test, you’re just afraid of getting anything lower than an A.”

Peter is silent. “You got me there.”

MJ’s hand twitches like she wants to touch him but knows she can’t. “You need to go home. Lie down, get some rest.”

“May is working,” Peter says, “and if I have to take the subway again right now I’ll die. I really will. It’s so—the smell and the noise and I can’t sit down and—”

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Just give it.”

She’s holding her hand out for it and giving him a no-nonsense expression that kind of reminds Peter of Pepper Potts on a rampage. He’s seen what happens to Tony when he crosses her, so he fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it over.

“Hold on.”

She stands and leaves. Peter closes his eyes again. He tunes out her conversation because if he doesn’t, he’s absolutely gonna vomit again and nobody wants that.

MJ slips back inside the stall. “Okay, solved. Do you still feel like you’re gonna vomit?”

Peter thinks about it. “No.”

“Good. We’re gonna go to the nurse, okay?”

“Oh boy.”

—

Tony Stark walks into Peter’s school and finds the hallways empty. The classroom doors are shut and the muted sounds of teachers lecturing are the only signs that anyone is here at all.

He finds Peter in the infirmary, sitting on the examination table with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes.

He’s at his side in an instant. “Kid?”

It’s surprise that gets Peter’s eyes open, but the little spider baby immediately regrets it. He flinches and sucks in a sharp breath. “Tony,” he whispers, like the name is all he can manage and the questions will have to wait for later.

Tony looks him over. There are no obvious injuries. The girl on the phone had said it was just a headache, but Tony is way more experienced with Peter’s brand of bullshit and knows there’s usually something else going on beneath the surface.

“I’m gonna go talk to the nurse and then get you out of here, okay?”

A nod.

It’s always a bad thing when he doesn’t argue. Peter Parker would start a fight about what kind of pizza to order, even if you suggest the kind he really wants, just to be a stubborn little shit about things.

Tony slips out of the exam room. The nurse looks up when he enters her office. “Oh my—Mr. Stark?!”

“Yes, hello,” Tony takes a cautious step forward as she stands. He doesn’t bother to sit. “I’m here to pick up the little gremlin in there.”

Her face flushes. “I didn’t know you’d been called, I—I figured I would just let him wait it out, you know? He didn’t want to be touched, so it was hard to figure out what was up and—so it’s real? About the internship?”

“Of course. Why would he lie?”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. “Well… you know how kids can be.”

“Do I?”

She doesn’t seem to know what to say to that.

Tony sighs. “Look, Nurse—uh, Timms—Nurse Timms, can I please just sign the kid out and take him home? He’s clearly in pain here.”

She starts rifling through her desk for a form. “I mean, I can admit you to take him home, but I really suggest you talk with the principal first—Peter was given a detention before he was brought to my ward, see, and I was—” she shakes her head. “I thought he might be faking.”

Tony stares without blinking for a whole five seconds and then, “Detention? For what?”

“I heard he bad-mouthed a teacher or something. But to be fair, Professor Scott isn’t exactly what I’d call patient.”

“Well, be that as it may,” Tony takes the form she hands him to sign, “my kid doesn’t fake. He has a condition, see. Gets uh… overloaded. Sounds, smells, it can be too much for him. Probably why he snapped.”

“That… that makes sense.”

“Yes,” he says succinctly, and hands the paper back. “You’d know that if you bothered to ask. Anyway, I’ll be going. Thanks for the help, Nurse Times.”

“Uh, it’s—it’s Timms—”

The door shuts behind him.

—

MJ was forced to go back to class. She’d argued and protested but Nurse Timms was insistent. So, MJ had relented. She’d pressed the lightest of kisses on his forehead and it surprisingly hadn’t felt that bad, and then she’d gone.

Tony Stark had shown up about twenty minutes later and it’s just when Peter’s starting to think it was all just a vivid hallucination that the smell of coffee and motor oil fills his senses again. It’s overwhelming but not debilitating.

“Kiddo,” Tony whispers, “is it okay to touch you?”

Peter cracks an eye. Everything is bright but Tony’s suit is mercifully black, so he focuses on that. “I don’t know. I don’t wanna move.”

“Well I gotta get you outta here somehow.”

“But my detention—”

“I already got you out of it,” Tony says breezily. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Tony,” Peter says, cheeks flushing. “You can’t just bribe my principal into—”

“I didn’t bribe anyone. I just explained the situation and besides, Morita’s an old friend.”

Peter closes his eyes again as he frowns. “You’re friends with my principal?”

“I’m a benefactor for your school, too,” Tony says. “But don’t tell anyone, it’s a secret.”

Something shifts in the air. Tony is sitting now. “Happy’s waiting outside,” he says, “but whenever you’re ready.”

Peter thinks about it for a few seconds and decides it’s gonna have to happen at some point, anyway. Might as well rip the band-aid off now. Slowly he takes a deep breath and manages to sit up with Tony’s help. The older man tries to avoid touching him as much as possible, but surprisingly enough the weight of his hand against Peter’s spine isn’t crushing or aggravating. It doesn’t hurt.

“Baby steps,” Tony says softly. “We’ll take you out the side door, okay?”

Even getting to the door is slow going but Tony doesn’t seem to mind. Right before they open it, Tony stops and pulls his sunglasses off. “Here, try these.”

Peter puts them on. He feels ridiculous because like, they work on Tony who was literally born in the seventies, but Peter really doesn’t dig the groovy shades. Regardless they’re better than nothing and even help a little.

The halls are empty again. Most of the students will be in the gym right about now, or the cafeteria for lunch. They don’t run into anybody on the way out and as soon as they’re in the back of the car, Peter sags against Tony’s side. He feels like he’s just run ten miles.

“Drive, Hogan,” Tony says, and then the partition glides up.

For a few seconds it’s almost completely quiet. Noise suppression tech, Peter realises, and he feels like he could cry from relief. For the first time in hours there’s just… nothing. No traffic, no dozens of students talking at once. The air conditioning unit is filtered, so he’s not being attacked with the smell of body odour and clashing perfume scents and Axe cologne. There’s just Tony and beautiful, amazing, showstopping silence.

Tony shifts a little. “Better?”

Peter nods, figuring it’s still probably not safe to speak.

“We’ll be there soon,” Tony says softly.

—

Peter doesn’t remember much after the car ride. He can vaguely recall protesting getting out of the Audi, and he remembers Tony assuring him that everything would be okay, and the next thing he knows he’s lying on his back in an utterly dark bedroom. The walls are insulated just like the car had been, so there’s just no sound, and the bed sheets probably have the highest thread count of all time.

Something shifts beside Peter and he realises Tony is there, feeling his forehead.

“What—?”

“Oh, hey,” Tony greets. “I think you might’ve blacked out there. All the noise hit you at once when we got out of the car and you just…”

“I fainted?”

Tony snorts softly. “Relax. It happens to the best of us. How do you feel, Webster?”

Peter hums. “Bad.”

“Let’s try a scale of one to ten.”

“Okay,” Peter says. “Ten.” Tony lets out a little grunt at that and so Peter elaborates, “It was at like, a twenty this morning, so.”

“Ah, I see.” Tony’s grip shifts to Peter’s wrist to measure his pulse. “This okay?”

“It’s fine.”

And it really is. He doesn’t feel like burning his skin off or anything. Tony’s hands are just warm.

“Any idea what brought this on?”

Peter shifts a little. “I uh… haven’t been sleeping a lot lately.” He swallows. “Like, at all.”

“And how long’s that been going on for?”

“I don’t know. On and off for a few weeks, I guess.”

“Jesus,” Tony sighs and pulls his hand away. He rakes it through his hair. “Kiddo, what have we said about communication? Does May know?”

“....No?”

There’s a long pause where Tony just kind of sits there thinking, like he wants to say whatever comes next carefully. He massages his temples and then: “Alright, scooch over.”

“What?”

“Make room for me.”

Peter blinks and then, tentatively, scoots over a little to allow Tony room to lie down. The older man does, arching his back a little and grunting in pain because he’s like, ancient. They’re not touching, but very slowly Peter starts inching closer again. Eventually he works up the courage to try resting his head on Tony’s chest, which is terrifying not only because it’s Tony Stark, but also because he’d rather not have his brain implode.

Nothing happens. “Your fabric softener must be like, super expensive,” he whispers, because this is actually better than the sheets.

Tony snorts. “I’ll ask Pep about it.”

Peter makes a noncommittal noise and before he knows it, his eyes are closing. For once they actually feel heavy, and the steady rhythm of Tony’s heart beat is soothing, dependable.

Tony’s hands brush lightly over Peter’s hair and then thread through it. “Too much?”

“No,” Peter promises. “Good.”

And so Tony’s fingers run through his curls over and over, gently, lightly. His thumb sweeps over Peter’s cheek once, too, and then he starts muttering in Italian.

Peter cracks an eye. “Are you telling me your grocery shopping list?”

Tony laughs a little. “My mom used to do it for me,” he says. “Something about just hearing her speak the language made me feel… relaxed, I guess. Didn’t matter what she was saying.”

Peter smiles and wraps an arm around Tony’s torso. “Tell me something else.”

“You wanna hear about the time I almost blew up a Chem lab?”

“Uh, duh.”

So Tony launches into it, speaking in a low voice and absently twisting one of Peter’s curls around his finger. It feels nice and the headache is fading fast.

Peter sleeps.

#marvel #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #my writing #friendly neighborhood fic exchange #may parker #pepper potts #michelle jones #spideychelle #pepperony #nugget the dog #insomnia

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lydia-yougowith-stiles · 4 years ago

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My Top Ships of 2020

It’s FINALLY here!! The list of my top ships of 2020. What a year it was and I can’t believe it’s already January 8th as I’m writing this. Just like I mentioned with my 2020 TV Wrap Up, a lot of these ships helped me escape during 2020. I can’t wait to see where they’re headed for 2021. I have also started watching a few things in December, but I will be saving those ships for my 2021 list. (You’ll notice I have already expanded this list from last year.) Last year, I debated about including an Honorable Mentions sections. This year I will be including it because I wanted to still talk about these ships, but found it hard to rank them with the others. Without further ado here we go!

Oh! One last thing. Compared to previous years Bellarke has not made it on this list. J. Roth did us dirty with this last season of the 100 and I will pretend it didn’t exist.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

~ Anne with an E: Jerry and Diana

These two were SOOO CUTE until Diana started acting rude and left our perfect boy Jerry. Watching this last season back, I grew not to like this couple as much as I did the first time. This most definitely had to do with the fact that I knew the outcome AND I could see Diana using him more earlier. She wanted to experience something different and rebel and Jerry was there. But they were so cute as they walked home together and shared books. I’m also really proud of Anne for sticking by Jerry when she found out the truth about their relationship. (As you probably already know I love Jerry so much and don’t want any harm to come for him, so this was a tough one, but yes I’m still including it.)

~Umbrella Academy: Klaus and Dave

I started watching Umbrella Academy this year, so I was lucky to not just experience the first season, but also the second. I instantly fell in love with Klaus and Dave and we barely got any scenes with them. (That’s my main reason for making them an honorable mention rather than a permanent spot on this list.) I wish we had more scenes with them in love. We do get some great moments in scene two with a younger Dave, which highlights Klaus’ love for him, but it’s not the same. I really love how much Dave changed Klaus. I would argue they’re my favorite romantic relationship on the show.

~Walking Dead World Beyond: Hope and Elton

Here’s my classic shipping people together who weren’t technically romantic (but honestly those often make the best and most satisfying ships if the writers open their eyes to the chemistry that is on screen...but I digress). While they technically weren’t “romantic” you could tell that Elton grew to have a crush on Hope as the season went on. There was definitely a lot going on between their characters as Hope ***I’m going to try and avoid a spoiler here*** was one of the last people to see Elton’s mom. I think there’s potential for these two down the road and as there are only 2 seasons slotted for Walking Dead World Beyond, I can only hope this is the path the writers take.

~Violetta: Angie and Pablo

Okay, so even if you have not heard of the Disney Channel telenovela “Violetta” or seen many of my posts, can you just appreciate the chemistry in the above moment between these two people! For a good amount of season 1 of the show, Angie and Pablo were the couple for me and I was ESTATIC when they finally got together. I anticipated it wouldn’t be for long because of slight spoilers and more intuition, but god were they beautiful together. Friends to lovers to the extreme. Screw Herman! Now as I’m slowing watching season 3, I know these two won’t be OTP, but I can savor in this moment and remember the good times.

17. Violetta: Violetta and Leon

Two back to back Violetta appreciation posts. This show took up my entire 2020 from awaiting for season 2 (and 3) on Disney Plus, as well as watching the 80 episodes (a piece!). Currently, I’m trying to get back into wanting to watch season 3 (as other shows took precedent). With the amount of Violetta I watched, I couldn’t leave Violetta and Leon off this list. They were the favored ship of the show (and one of the most central). In season 1 it took me a little time to like them together, but by episode 35 I could feel the mutual attraction. I remember the moment of them singing/playing piano together. I knew they’d be endgame. My main complaint is that when these two are a part they are SUPER ANNOYING! Like they (specifically I’m thinking of Leon) say rude things about the other person and I’m like how could you be okay to get back together? Their best moments are definitely in season 2, whether singing to the other person or imagining singing to them. Definitely at the end of the season when they’re in Spain. I still have to watch the end of their love story, so I hope it’s satisfying.

16. High School Musical the Musical the Series: Nini and Ricky

So I added this ship onto my list long before I knew about any real-life/personal drama that was happening among the cast. I considered taking it off the list, but as I am discussing the fictional characters I decided to leave it. High School Musical the Musical the Series was a very early 2020 watch. I liked the show more than I was expecting and was upset to hear that season 2 wouldn’t include a performance of High School Musical 2. (I mean, Beauty and the Beast...really?) This was one of those extremely rare times where I actually liked a ship that was the main ship. Usually, I favor the other part of the love triangle or the underappreciated part. I was both shocked and happy when Ricky and Nini kissed in the finale and got together. Of course the final episode ended with some hurtles for season 2 (which now I guess there will be even more), but it was good to see them together and happy.

15. Legacies: Hope and Josie

With all of these shows ending earlier than they should have due to COVID, I feel like I’m going to sound like a broken record when I say I don’t remember a lot of what happened in this last season. (I guess for 2021 I’ll have to take more thorough notes, but then again you can see which ships I like more.) With Hope and Josie, season 2 was a bit of a rough road. I mean, what do you expect when you erase yourself from existence for the greater good, which means that your boyfriend hooks up with your friend/eventual lover? (Yes, I added in that second part.) Josie and Landon felt very awkward in the beginning of this season when they were in “love” and forgot about Hope. (I rarely heard anyone say they liked them together.) It got more awkward when Hope came back in the picture and had to watch them together. Then we had that spill with Josie being evil (which I was surprised they tackled so early on in the show. Feels like a later plot to explore). Due to all these hurtles, there were less opportunities for my OTP of Legacies. The best moment we got was in the above photo when Hope went into Josie’s subconscious and was speaking to Josie as a fictional pig the whole time. We will never forget how the “pig” suggested Hope kiss her awake. Come on Julie! Give us what we want!

14. Single Parents: Will and Angie

Will and Angie were far down on my Top Ships last year. Another friends to lovers, you could just feel the chemistry between these two and that was strengthened in season 2. (I just loved some couples more this year I guess.) Last year, they couldn’t really act on too much romance between these two because of Poppy and Douglas’ relationship, but as those two had some drama this season, Will and Angie had a greater chance of getting together. We watched moments where the two pretended to be a couple (for the sake of Will’s parents) and eventually Will came to the realization of his feelings for Angie. In a classic season 2 plot device of a sitcom, Angie decided to go with her real-life husband/Graham’s dad at the end of the season. But you could see she also had feelings for Will and they HAVE to act on those next season. I can’t remember if the show got a third season, and I will be crushed if they didn’t. Previously, they’ve been mid-season starts so I feel hopeful.

13. Emma: Emma and Knightley

The last movie I watched in movie theaters was Emma. While it makes me sad that I haven’t been able to go back since, this film was a great one to hold this memory. As an avid Jane Austen fan (and period drama as you will continue to notice), I LOVED this Emma and Knightley pairing. This couple is one of my favorites of the Austen heroines and heroes and I have many favorite reincarnations from Romola Garai and Johnny Lee Miller to Joanna Sotomura and Brent Bailey in Emma Approved (still so sad those two broke up). So it was very hard to live up to what I’ve watched and liked before. Anya Taylor-Joy and Johnny Flynn did not disappoint and will be one of the combos I think of when I re-visit the novel. I love how we didn’t focus on their crazy age difference and really highlighted on their relationship as family friends and going back a long time. I specifically like the decision to bring in some early nods to Knightley admitting his feelings for Emma and then not doing so because of the presence of Frank Churchill. Just talking about all of this makes me want to re-watch the movie all over again. :) **If you’re a fan of this combo or Emma/Knightley in general that you have to watch this video. It is amazing!

youtube

12. Avatar The Last Airbender: Zuko and Katara

Another binge from 2020. I watched Avatar the Last Airbender in the summer and was amazed by the story-telling and how deep they could get for a kid’s program. Despite, being in MS/HS when the show originally aired, I hadn’t watched it before. So many people had told me to do and then with the help of Netflix, I felt the pull to do so during quarantine. When I headed into the show, I thought Zuko and Katara eventually got together. Mainly, because I know the fandom and love for them is so strong. I instantly felt this too. There were so many great parallels between there characters. (I mean clearly we have the whole water and fire dynamic.) Even when these two weren’t in scenes together I was thinking about how well they’d work together. So needless to say I was disappointed when they didn’t get to be endgame. We did a lot of great moments at the end of season two and definitely with season three. The Last Agni Kai scene will forever give me chills and represent how deep Zutara is. The evidence is all right there. Such a great ship.

11. Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist: Zoey and Max

Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist was one of my favorite watches of 2020 and such a feel good show for a moment with a lot of uncertainty. (I highly recommend if you haven’t watched it. Season 2 just started on NBC this week.) For a while I felt very on the fence if I shipped Zoey more with Simon or Max. As you can notice friends to lovers has been a common thread with my posts (although I LOVE a good enemies to lovers) and Max was that 100%. Plus, he’s played by Skylar Astin so what’s not to love. Despite, all of that I felt both of the men in Zoey’s life had potential and I could be happy if she ended up with either one. By episode 6 I was leaning towards Max (if I’m remembering correctly this would be the “When I Wake Up” number with the scooter) and then by episode 8 I was all in! I mean she sang “I’m Yours” to him. (Episode 8 was one of my favorites for the whole season. She did a fantastic job singing and I loved the twist of events. Also, Max being there for her was adorable. The “Pressure” song in the conference room OMG, get me a Max!) The only thing that upset me about their relationship and Max’s character was how sudden his emotions were. It became all or nothing and it felt like too much. He shouldn’t have given Zoey an ultimatum like that. Once he went to work upstairs, I grew to not like this character. Luckily by the last episode I saw some of the old Max again. We’ll see what happens with this new season.

10. Julie and the Phantoms: Julie and Luke

Julie and the Phantoms: I cannot talk highly enough of this show. It is amazing and everyone needs to be watching it. Of course, it was created by Kenny Ortega so need I say more...but there is so much more to appreciate too. The actors are fantastic and I love the characters they portray! I also can’t stop listening to the music. But this moment is for Julie and Luke, sorry, I should stop promoting the show :) It was very obvious that two members of the band should fall in love and with Julie and Luke both writing their own music and being passionate about their craft it became a no-brainer that they should end up catching feelings for one another. Of course, there’s the major hurtle that he’s a ghost, but we can figure that out in season 2. Luke is obviously the better pick for Julie (Nick who?). They are just so adorable together and I can’t get over that moment when he talks to her at school by her locker and she pretends to talk on her phone. The way they look at each other says it all. (Such great acting!) Then there’s Edge of Great and Luke’s guitar solo. OH! They’re so meant for each other. While no season 2 announcement has been realized yet, there’s no way this show does not get renewed.

9. The 100: Murphy and Emori

Okay, so I know this sounds hypocritical that I said I won’t think the last season of the 100 exists and here are Murphy and Emori. But in my defense they are the best part of this season and my love for them as a couple really came to a head this season. Murphy had so much character growth and I was fearing for his life almost every episode. Same went for Emori especially after her accident I didn’t feel positive. These two (along with Raven) were the shining beacon in a very disappointing and confusing season. I love how close they are and how strong they make each other. They have been through so much and it was nice to see them so happy (despite everything going on). You just knew they’d always have each other’s backs no matter what.

8. Violetta: Fran and Diego

I feel like I would do anything for this ship and I have so many more episodes of season 3 to go. (So that’s saying something.) Another Violetta ship, but arguably the best and one that I know is endgame because I grew so obsessed that I started searching for spoilers early on. (That’s how you know it’s bad. Especially when you’re watching YouTube videos without subtitles, so you have no idea what they’re saying, but they look happy and therefore you are happy.) Fran and Diego only got together in the third and finale season of Violetta. Previously, they were a part of different romances (Diego a major one with Violetta), but at the start of this season they are put together in a lot of situations and quickly grow a strong relationship. You can feel the chemistry instantly! They just fit each other so well. Their singing voices together-OMG! While it took FOREVER for their relationship to be public knowledge, I really haven’t had any other problems with them together. (And with 80 episodes it could easily be the case.) A positive of having more than 30 episodes to go: I have more opportunity to fall even more in love with these two.

7. Sanditon: Esther and Babington

I LOVE THESE TWO SO MUCH! I watched Sanditon so long ago that my memory could get fuzzy, but one thing that stands out clearly is how great it was watching Esther and Babington get together. When thinking about this show people will probably immediately think of Sidney and Charlotte and while they are great and the central couple of the series, these two have my heart. Esther has SO MUCH character growth and development and Babington is a big influence on that. He helps her to see that she can be so much more than what she currently is doing and gets her away from her brother and that lifestyle. For a bit it was touch and go and I wasn’t sure if the two would be endgame, but luckily they were. It appeared to be a marriage out of friendship/necessity. Babington is fine with loving Esther more and hoping she’ll grow to love him. This quickly changes with a scene where we see the two looking very much in love. While this show only used Jane Austen’s unfinished novel as a stepping stone and became a lot more modern (than most fans liked), I thought it did a nice job with several aspects. The main one being Esther’s character. It is a show that I will definitely be re-watching and will always be upset that it did not get a second season.

6. Legends of Tomorrow: Ava and Sara

A great ship since Ava was introduced. These two balance each other out so well and are one of the most constant ships on the show. (As the Waverider’s doors continue to be revolving in recent seasons.) Each season we watch their relationship deepen and I truly felt that with this most recent season of Legends. Now this might sound super ironic, because from what I can remember (remember 2020 brain, it’s been a while since watching), Sara was off the Waverider a lot, leaving Ava in charge. Sara was away for so many episodes that I started to question (and do a lot of Google searching) if she was leaving the show. Despite the two being a part, I feel we got to know Ava’s character more. She has definitely grown since we first met her all those seasons ago. Due to this development, I felt this couple deserved this spot on the list. When we got to the end of last season ***SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS*** and it looked like Sara (and actually all the Legends) might die, my heart broke for them. Ava and Sara deserve the world. And with the way the finale ended it’s going to be some time till they get it. Once again, Legends is the best CW Superhero show (I said it) and everyone should be watching it.

5. The Spanish Princess: Mary Tudor and Charlie Brandon

This ship is so underappreciated and deserves to be talked about more!!! (Another common thread in many of these entries.) I have searched for Tumblr posts and YouTube videos and have only found a few dedicated to this couple. There needs to be more!! As the second season of the Spanish Princess dragged for me a bit, once Mary Tudor and Charlie Brandon got more screen time and a plot-line I was instantly sucked in. They nicely balanced the falling out of love of Katherine and Harry. There should have been more scenes with Mary and Charlie. Right away, you could feel some sort of chemistry, but Mary had to be married to the King of France. Then the King dies and she’s promised to pick a marriage of love for her second marriage. Knowing her brother and expecting that she will be married off again she marries the messenger come to get her from France, Charlie Brandon. Super intrigued by their story I looked up the history of the real Mary and Charlie Brandon and their story matches very closely. They got married despite the King’s rules and had many children together. It seems to be a marriage of love like she wanted. This couple will forever be one of my favorites.

They are also one of my major reasons for wanting to watch the Tudors. While they completely change the Mary and Charles romance (Firstly by naming her Margaret), at least it was very easy to watch. As Charles Brandon is played by the beautiful Henry Cavill.

4. The Outpost: Talon and Garret

Speaking of underappreciated ships (and TV shows), I present Talon and Garret from CW’s The Outpost. It was SO HARD for me to find a picture from the third (and latest season) of them to put with this post. It’s even hard to watch any scenes of the show on YouTube. Talon and Garret FINALLY got together this season and it was ABOUT TIME! Since season 1 you have felt the tension between these two, but there were always obstacles and people in between them. There seemed to be potential in the first season and by the start of third I was not holding out hope anymore that they would be together. So, it was such a joyous occasion when they became endgame (is that too soon to say? I have no idea if there’s another season on the horizon). This couple solidified my love for a WARRIOR romance. One where, despite being two different genders (and for this show species), both partners are equal in strength and fighting ability. (Well, Talon could take Garret, but they are such a powerful duo!) I now want to read and watch more romances/ships with this trope. [Please let me know if you have any suggestions.] Just talking about them, I can’t help but smile (almost as big as Garret when he saw Talon again before she left for another mission). At the end of the season they might have tried to make it seem like they would pick other partners and I’m so glad they didn’t. You seriously need to watch this show if any of the above sounded appealing/you like high fantasy and maybe a little CGI cheesiest.

3. The Society: Grizz and Sam

It breaks my heart talking about this ship ever since Netflix released that they were taking back the second season renewal of The Society. I started watching the Society during quarantine (shocking I know), but I do remember a lot from my time watching (more shocking, right?). Hands down the best couple from this show was Grizz and Sam. They weren’t introduced right away and again I might have cheated when I suspected the two might get together, so I looked up some spoilers. (Honestly, that’s the best sign of a ship in my book. If I can’t wait and need to look up spoilers then your show has a good thing going.) Individually Grizz and Sam were my favorite characters and then pairing them together I was dead. So many amazing moments with them. Naturally we didn’t get enough and I will continue to watch fan videos (because there are so many). They are precious and I’m so glad we got some closure at the end of the season because if we didn’t this cancellation would have been even harder.

2. Nancy Drew: Nancy and Ace

Okay, I’ll try to keep this brief because I know I’ve talked about this couple A LOT on this page in 2020 (but that might be difficult FYI). From an honorable mention thought last year to #2 this year-THAT’S HUGE! But they deserve it, even if they haven’t officially become a couple on the show...well not yet. Early on in the first season I felt a pull between these two characters, which is super ironic seeing as how they had few scenes together and were a part of two different romances. (I mean Nancy had two different love interests.) I thought I was just imagining things (as I do often pair people who barely share plots), but then episode 14 happened and I was sold. Then I came onto Tumblr and discovered the amount of people that felt it too and knew we had something. Shout out to all the other blogs that mention Nace or are made just to honor this amazing duo. I know they will be endgame too and value all your posts that I’m constantly liking and looking for.

Again, there’s so much I could talk about, but I’ll focus on how much they trust and listen to one another. (I mean Ace drank that stuff because he trusted Nancy!!!) I love how they get paired up on cases and go into investigator mode. They speak SO CLOSE to one another and just all the looks! If we don’t get more moments in the second season I don’t know how I’ll survive. They are just so perfect and I could easily see them become number 1 next year. I cannot wait for the start of season 2 on Jan. 20th!! For now I’ll fast forward through old episodes and watch my favorite moments. Like these:

AND NUMBER ONE.... DRUM ROLL PLEASE...

1. Anne with an E: Anne and Gilbert

Now I know what you’re thinking...’Stephanie, didn’t you pick Shirbert last year too?’ Why, yes that is true. But back then I had only watched seasons 1 and 2 with some spoiler videos of season 3. The release hadn’t come to Netflix yet. Since then, I have watched the last season (and the show as a whole multiple times). It’s just so good and watching the growth of the characters (not only Shirbert) means so much more when you can watch the episodes back to back. But we’re here for Shirbert and how we watched them rise. Yes, it departed from the novel, but I love the twists and turns it took getting to endgame. So many looks and unspoken feelings. I thought it was great how Anne discovered her feelings. I hated Winifred, but understood her purpose. Anne and Gilbert will always be one of my top OTPs no matter which adaptation. Of course, the book will always be the tops, but so many great representations of it have been done on screen. Ultimate enemies to friends to lovers. I hope to one day create characters that could be so strong and beloved.

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talesofafangirlwithadvr · 4 years ago

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Jan/Feb 2021 Picks

HELLO! It’s been a while, but I’M BACK!! Life has gotten a lot busier as I started Grad School this January. So, I feel it may be tough being on time with future Monthly Wraps like I’ve done in the past with working on my MFA, and my job. I’m going to probably do more seasonal wrap ups when I get the time. I also think I’ll be posting more individual posts as I watch an episode. Because even with a busier schedule, there is always time for TV and there’s so much I want to talk about!

You know the drill. Spoilers are coming.....

You’ve been warned :)

WANDAVISION

I want to start off by mentioning that I have not watched this week’s episode yet. So the last one I saw was EPISODE 6 with Halloween in the late 90s/early 2000s.

THIS SHOW! OMG.

I didn’t know what I was signing up for when I watched the first episode and I have been blown away. It is such a cool concept and I love the fact that everyone who watches it is confused. There have been so many interesting theories out there and I am so curious what is going to wind up being true. I love all the nods to old sitcoms and TV shows as well as all the MCU Easter Eggs. (I mean they got X-men’s Quicksilver-like WOW.) It feels really Black Mirror at times with the breaking of the fourth wall. I will never be able to shake the feeling I got in Episode 3, when Vision reversed. (And then I saw a bunch of videos with him looking at the camera as Wanda looks at the TV. Eww I don’t like it, but it’s such a good move on their point.) I love the outside plot as well and the characters who were previously side characters in other MARVEL movies. The love for Jimmy Woo is astounding and I’m here for it. I’m glad it’s Friday, so I can watch the next episode. I’m just upset that we’re so close to the show ending. The next Disney Plus Marvel shows better be just as good. Wandavision set the bar high.

NANCY DREW

If you’ve visited this page recently, you know I have a very strong love for this show. It is the only one I am still watching religiously on the CW and I am tuning in the night it airs. (That is HUGE for me.) IT IS JUST SO GOOD AND I DON’T KNOW WHERE TO START....

2x05 just aired, which would have been the season 1 finale before COVID and I have it saved on my DVR to watch again. There’s just so much I want to relive and catch that I missed the first watch through. It would have been SUCH A GOOD FINALE, but I’m happy that we can continue with new episodes starting next week. And with the way it ended...there’s so much I need to know!! I’m just curious how fast they’re going to develop certain plots. I love the Drew Crew and how they are a family. Each character is so well developed and their chemistry is great. I love learning more about each of them and watching them develop. My favorite character is definitely Ace. I love all his witty lines and how he is opening up more to the group as well as to us, the audience, as we get more of a look into his personal life. I enjoy all of his scenes with his dad and specifically liked when they were celebrating Shabbat. (I am also here for the Nancy and Ace content. I gush more about this on my other blog: lydia-whogowith-stiles. Check it out if you want to hear more.)

THE WATCH

When I watched the Christmas special (or was it New Years? and why does that feel so long ago) of Doctor Who, BBC America kept advertising a new show called the Watch. Due to the extensive amount of commercials, I decided to tape the first two episodes (which premiered back to back) to see what it was all about. I was unaware that this series is based on the book series created by Terry Pratchett. When I came to see if people were talking about it on Tumblr, I saw that a lot of people didn’t like it because of how drastically different it was. As I was unfamiliar with the original, I can’t compare. The TV show was eight episodes and I just watched the last one that aired this past Sunday. I definitely liked the first half of the season more (I noticed my mind start to drift as I watched later ones), but thought the finale was good. I really enjoyed how they incorporated the theme song. I didn’t realize the connection earlier and now can’t stop humming it. (I don’t know if there will be another season or not.) I enjoyed the characters and how it was like nothing I’ve seen on TV before. It got me thinking a lot about blending genres. I would still recommend checking it out.

ZOEY’S EXTRORDINARY PLAYLIST

I was VERY excited for this show to come back. I loved the first season so much. It’s just such a heartfelt show and it helped me survive the early parts of quarantine. So far, this season I am noticing how detailed the musical performances are. Mandy Moore is doing an AMAZING job. The choreography is *chefs kiss* I also feel like the song choices have been great and not always the ones I think that would be picked. We are getting to learn more about each character and watch Zoey and her family as they continue life after losing Mitch. I am here for Mo and Max’s restaurant. I think the concept would be so cool in real life. Who knows maybe we’ll see one now. (Max’s rendition of ‘Numb’ was amazing. I’ve never heard the song like that and I think it might be one of my favorites of the season so far.) I hope Max and Zoey get back together by the end of the season. It did feel fast, so I do understand why they had to break up, but it still makes me sad that we watched them get together and then it was taken away from us. The last episode before the break was so powerful and I think the show did an amazing job applying real world issues into their plot. It did not feel forced at all and brought so much awareness. Upset we have to wait so long for a new episode.

SECRETS OF SULPHUR SPRINGS

Are you looking for a good mystery, but don’t think Disney Channel can provide it? Think again. I have to say, when I started watching I was not expecting this show to be a part of my monthly picks. It pleasantly surprised me. The show involves the mystery of a young girl, Savannah, who went mysteriously missing at camp back in the 90s. Apparently, her ghost still haunts the hotel that was on the camp grounds to this day. Then Griffin and his family buy the hotel with intent of fixing it up and reopening it after all these years. The people in the town think they’re crazy because of its past. But there’s something more going on with Griffin’s dad as well as some of the other adults in the town. They know something about Savannah’s disappearance, but aren’t saying anything about it. While this is a kid’s show (and only half hour episodes) it has been interesting to see where the story will go. I’m sure I am imagining much more intense things for her disappearance than what actually happened. It’s also not super cheesy or have bad acting, which is refreshing. (I really feel Disney Channel has gone down.) Either way, I don’t know how many episodes are left to air, but I think we’re pretty close to the end. If you’re looking for a quick, entertaining mystery I would highly recommend.

MISS SCARLET AND THE DUKE

And here come my period pieces (ironically both from Masterpiece/PBS this time). I know last year I felt like I watched a lot of historical watches at the beginning of the year. We’ll see if that continues to happen this year too. It does serve as a nice escape. Plus, these are some really good stories.

Miss Scarlet and the Duke is a part of Masterpiece Mystery on PBS, although it aired on a different network in the UK. It is (another) mystery series (shocking I know with that title!) It follows Eliza Scarlet who has a nose for mystery, but as a woman living in the Victorian era does not have any rights except for being a wife and mother (two things she would rather not be). When her father dies (apparently from a heart attack...emphasis on apparently), she takes over his Private Investigator business. Much to the dismay of long time family friend William “The Duke” who is a Detective Inspector for Scotland Yard. Eliza is often in his office as she gets arrested for being places she shouldn’t or trying to get information out of him. This element of Eliza having to work in a very male dominated Victorian society is one that I feel I haven’t really seen on a TV show. I really like her dynamic with William. There’s always that feeling of “will they won’t they,” but I don’t feel the show just focuses on that. The mystery is the heart of it all. This last week’s episode was REALLY GOOD. As we got to find out more regarding her father’s death. I hear a lot of people want a season 2 and I am right there with them. This show deserves it.

ALL CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL

Another PBS Masterpiece watch. I love this show, so much more than I was anticipating. It is so heartfelt and makes me so happy and in a good mood after watching it. It follows James Herriot who has recently graduated from veterinary school, but is struggling finding a job. Then he gets a call from Siegfried Farnon’s veterinary practice in Yorkshire. Siegfried is known for having a harsh demeanor and temper, so the assistants he hires don’t often last long. Spoiler alert, that should be pretty obvious, James does. The cast of characters are so lovely and I like all their relationships with one another. The show takes places in the 1930s and I realized I don’t often watch things in this era, so that has been fun to explore. The sets and locations are BEAUTIFUL. In the episodes, we often get these amazing shots that sweep over the exterior and I want to travel to Yorkshire like tomorrow. (See more escapism, it’s great.) The main plot follows everyone interact in the town and watching James become a more confident and experienced veterinarian (which I decided I could never do after watching). I heard that it has been renewed for a second season so that is so fantastic.

FATE: THE WINX SAGA

The first things I heard about this show was how disappointed everyone was in how they decided to adapt the Winx Club show from their childhood. On this I can agree, but I decided to watch the show anyway. I pretended that it was something new entirely and I have to say I enjoyed it. Of course, there were parts that bothered me and then I had to remember it was a teen show, so angst would be annoying. I think overall it was too short (and should have at least 8 or 10 episodes), but I’m happy that they were able to conclude the main plot well. (Although we did get that cliffhanger, but it is exciting that it was released the show just got renewed for a second season the other day.) I really liked Silva-mainly because it was great seeing Thomas from Downton Abbey in something else. I also enjoyed seeing Jacob Duchman in more things. It was a surprise to see him in Medici and I am just happy he is adding more to his IMDB.

Quick and addicting watch. Add it to your queue. Just forget it’s supposed to be based on something else.

BLOWN AWAY SEASON 2

Continuing with the Netflix picks, one of my FAVORITE picks from 2020 got a season 2 and it is already on Netflix! That’s right Blown Away season 2 is now available. I seriously loved the first season of this show SO MUCH! Glass blowing is such a magical process and I am mesmerized every time I watch it. It felt weird starting this show with all new contestants, but then Alex came back as a guest judge and I was so happy. It is just as addicting and I cannot wait to see who wins this season. I am just trying not to rush the episodes.

VIOLETTA SEASON 3 UPDATE

I know you were all dying to know...

After taking a hiatus from watching during the holidays, I have gotten back into watching the Disney Channel telenovela on Disney Plus. I am now on episode 68. Things are really starting to happen and I am finding myself getting sucked in again, which makes me happy. Episode 60 (pictured above) had A LOT happen and really was a turning point for the second half of the show. Can’t wait to keep watching. Some really awesome songs from these last set of episodes.

AND NOW FOR MY NOT LOVING IT PICK:

LEGACIES

This third season has really disappointed me so far. As I’ve previously discussed on this page, it feels like they are just reusing previous plots from the last two seasons when there is so much more they can do. There was so much promise for this show and I loved the Vampire Diaries and Originals so much, that it’s sad to see Legacies miss the mark. I wish they gave Hope more storylines that didn’t revolve around Landon. She is such a strong character and is SO POWERFUL. This is something we rarely see and it shouldn’t only be shown to save a guy (multiple times). Their couple plot is continually doing the same thing. I want to see a lot more development with this show over this season to keep me watching. I am actually happy that there isn’t a new episode until March 11th. (That’s saying something...)

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the-great-imagines-of-1812 · 4 years ago

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To Love Another pt. 4 (Jo March x fem! Laurence! Reader)

A/N: feedback is appreciated!

taglist: @possumpaws @my-morning-straightjacket (it wouldn’t let me tag you :/ )

prolouge - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

This is one of the things i continued after my writer’s block, so please show this some love :)

~~~~~~

MARCH HOUSE, CONCORD, MASSACHUSETTS

PRESENT DAY, JANUARY 1869

As Jo exits the house, she catches a glimpse at the Laurence house, now so empty and sad-looking; with it’s shutters closed,it didn’t seem right with neither Laurie or Y/N in it.

Sighing, she turns her back to it, and wanders into the forest, where she stops by the pond to see an old mailbox. Out of her skirt pocket, she takes out a key with a red ribbon and is transported to a simpler time.

~~~~~~

MARCH HOUSE, CONCORD, MASSACHUSETTS

LATE JANUARY 1862

“And with this new play, written by our very own Ms. Jo March, will be shown at the Barnville Theater, and it will surpass any other piece in American history!” Meg finished, adjusting her waistcoat and tie.

Jo stood up on a chair and said “And in it will perform the greatest actress from here to the Mississippi River, Meg March!”

Meg’s cheeks turn red as she brings out a sheet of paper. “Gentlemen, gentlemen. Weekly reports!”

All of the -girls- dressed as gentlemen in this case, groaned.

“Meg- good. Jo- bad. Beth- very good. Amy- middling.” Meg finished, proudly. She folded the paper.

“Now now, before our weekly session is over, I have one final decree. I propose that BOTH Laurie AND Y/N join us.” Jo said.

“But he’s a real boy!” Amy groaned.

“Y/N could join. No boys, although. This is a club for ladies!” Meg finished.

“I think we should do it! It’s only the twins, what harm could they do?” Beth said, bravely.

As she approached the closet, Jo said “All those in favor say ‘Aye’ .”

A string of ‘Ayes’ was heard around the attic.

“And what better time than the present!” Jo said, opening the closet doors.

Both you and Laurie stumbled out.

“You traitor!” Meg said, feigning anger and shock.

Your brother wrapped an arm around your shoulders and said “Ladies, Ladies. This is purely our strategy.”

You smiled at Jo and said “It took a lot to convince her!”

Everyone dropped the facade and laughed at the situation. You slipped out from under Laurie’s arm and dug into your pocket. “As a token of our absolute gratitude, we have this set of keys that opens a little post office by the pond that me and Laurie have made.” You finished, as you handed them out around the room.

Everyone cheers!

~~~~~~

THE MARCH HOUSE, CONCORD, MASSACHUSETTS

PRESENT DAY, JANUARY 1869

Jo holds the very same key given to her on that day. She opens the mailbox. Nothing is there; of course. Why would there be? Neither you or Laurie have been here in years.

She shuts the mailbox and goes back home.

~~~~~~

EARLY FEBRUARY 1862

THE LAURENCE HOUSE

You played the final keys to the song you were playing on the piano, as you closed it after. You hear rushed steps come up to your door, and you turn around.

“Y/N! you have a visitor downstairs!” Laurie said, resting against the door way.

“Who is it?” you answered, getting up from the piano and approaching him.

He smiles. “I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.” he finished, with a cheeky smile.

“Oh, come on!” you said, rushing past him with your skirts in hand, going down the stairs.

As soon as she heard footsteps down the stairs, Jo turns around and gives you a smile that reaches her ears, and a blush that covers her cheeks.

“Jo! What are you doing here?” You said, bringing her into a tight hug. She took your hand and squeezed it. You laced your fingers through hers.

“I-I was hoping we could go on a walk together, maybe to the creek in the forest?” she said, obviously shying up around you.

“Of course, let me grab my coat!” you said, rushing over to the coat rack and slipping on your coat and hat. “Ready!”

“You two have fun!” Grandfather said, walking through to the foyer from the hallway.

“Bring her back by-” Laurie starts. He looks at the grandfather clock at the bottom floor. “5:00 pm?” he says, as he makes his way down the final steps on the stairs.

“Just in time for supper!” Grandfather chuckled.

“Will do, Mr. Laurence.”

Laurie opens the door for you two, and immediately, Jo grabs your hand and runs towards the forest.

After a few minutes, you and Jo reached a small riverbank, where the water was ever so clear, and all you could hear where birds chirping and the water flowing.

“Why’d you bring me here, Jo?” you say, eyes wide at the beauty, scanning the area.

“Because it reminds me of you...so peaceful and er- um- beautiful.” She says, taking off her hat.

“O-oh, thank you Jo. That’s lovely.” you said, taking off your hat and sitting down on an area clear of snow, leaning back against a tree.

“Actually-” Jo said, i brought you here for something else. “I-I wanted us to be alone for this.”

You stand up. “Jo, what are you on about?”

“I have a confession to make!” she said, clasping her hands over her mouth.

You swallowed. “G-Go ahead.”

Jo took a deep breath.

“Sometimes I have the strangest feeling about you. Especially when you are near me, as you are now. It feels as though I have a string tied under my rib to where my heart is, tightly knotted to yours in a similar fashion. And if you go far, I’m afraid the cable will snap, and my heart will forever hurt while your away.”

She takes a deep breath. “Charlotte Bronte, she has always said the most beautiful words. I read this one and thought of you.”

You approached her “It’s from Jane Eyre. I should know, I’ve read it cover to cover several times.

She gets closer to you. “S-So i didn’t scare you away?”

Your face softens “Of course not Jo I-” you take both of her hands, and give them a squeeze, lacing your fingers through them.

You watch her look at you with the entire sky of stars in her eyes, and before you can catch your breath, she leans forward and captures you lips with her own.

Jo thought that you pull pull away, disgusted at the thought of kissing another woman. But you just leaned in, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

From a distance, you can hear the bell tower chime, indicating that it was 5′o’clock.

You both pull away, with a smile. She gives you another peck on the lips before saying “I’ll walk you home.”

As you lace your fingers with hers and walk slowly back to the house, you were dizzy with happiness and love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This chapter just SCREAMED ‘you are single’ at me. Anyways, please show this one some love as i struggled a bit to write it. :)

Talya

#little women #little women x reader #little women x you #little women x y/n #jo march x reader #jo march x fem! reader #jo march x fem reader #jo march x laurence! reader #jo march x you #jo march x y/n #laurie laurence x sister reader #Laurie Laurence #Meg March #meg march x reader #amy march #amy march x reader #beth march #beth march x reader

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corpse--diem · 4 years ago

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Making Adult Friends | Chloe & Erin

TIMING: Early-mid January at Erin’s previous apartment PARTIES: @chloeinbetween & @corpse–diem SUMMARY: Chloe and Erin meet up to watch Sharknado. It’s a very normal and not awkward time at all. CONTENT WARNINGS: none

It was fine. It was cool. It was definitely not Chloe staring at her reflection in a storefront, trembling in nerves. The last time she’d gone over to someone’s house who she barely knew, well…. That hadn’t ended well. This time, Chloe was prepared, a heavy iron pendant in her hand. They were meeting outside to chat a little before they went into the nearby apartment block that Erin had said were hers. Leaning on a nearby post, she breathed hot

into her winter gloves, her fingers growing cold in the wind. “Oh, um, hey, are you Erin?” Chloe asked when she noticed a woman also looking around for someone. “I’m Chloe.”

Erin hadn’t known what had possessed her to reach out and see if this stranger online wanted to just… hang out. Maybe it was the need to socialize, or to talk to someone, anyone, about absolutely anything but the supernatural for five goddamn minutes. It was like the moment she’d been dropped into this world nearly a year ago, she hadn’t been able to get above the surface for even a breath. When Chloe agreed to watch some stupid movie with her, she wondered if the other woman simply wanted the same thing--some company and some laughs. She eyed the blonde who had approached, standing there like she’d been waiting for a bus outside of the apartment building. At first glance she looked as normal as she’d sounded. As normal as anyone who wanted to watch a movie called Sharknado with her. “Yep, that’s me,” Erin chirped, perking up with a bright smile. “Nice to meet you, Chloe.” She pulled a glove hand out of her pocket where it’d been hiding from the bite of the winter air and offered it to the other woman. “Not to rush things but what do you say we get out of this cold and at least get to the apartment lobby? My bones can’t take the cold quite like they used to.”

Chloe smiled, but it was watered down by the nervous wideness of her eyes. Erin looked, as much as possible anyway, like a normal human being. Chloe wasn't sure what she was looking for but she was looking all the same. When Erin breezed there was a cloud of condensation. She wore thick clothes to match the winter air. She wasn't standing strangely, nor was there was anything unusual about her way of speaking like Lydia had sometimes had. Nothing about Erin set off alarm bells. Chloe just wasn't convinced that meant anything. There was some part of her that knew that looking was as pointless as trying to avoid everyone. "That would be great," Chloe said, looking down at Erin's hand ever, taking it in a shake. She was about to be rude, she knew, but it was the only thing that made the idea of going inside Erin's house bearable. "Just one thing," Chloe said, holding out the iron round pendant in her hand. "This is iron, can you touch this for me please? It sounds so silly, I know, I feel absurd asking, but it's really important to me."

This is why you didn’t invite strangers to your house, Erin, she thought to herself as Chloe held out the iron pendant in front of her. There was a sincerity in her voice and eyes that was hard to dismiss but it didn’t instill much confidence in Erin. “You want me to… touch it?” She repeated the question, shifting where she stood, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like maybe this was some weird joke she wasn’t privy to. Her gloved hand reached out, an unsure smile wavering on her lips. “This isn’t one of those buzzer things that’ll give me a shock if I touch it right?” She’d dealt with weirder things than someone with bad jokes. Her hand hovered above it, hesitant, before tapping the top of it quickly--once, twice, flinching like it would do something. “Is that good enough?”

Chloe might have lost every social skill she’d ever had these last few years, but even she felt the immediate concern and discomfort from Erin. “No, no! It’s not a prank.” Her cheeks went a little red, and Chloe hoped she could just blame that on the cold. In hindsight, she should have asked Erin to take off her glove, and while she was sure Lydia wouldn’t have been so casual about touching iron ever, the leather really made the whole test moot. Chloe wasn’t sure she was brave enough to ask her to do it again without the glove. “Um yep! It’s just a safety thing, but it’s all good. I know it’s weird.” Maybe Erin would even tell her not to come in now.

A safety thing? Not surprisingly, Chloe’s affirmation did little to soften the eyebrow raised in her direction. “That’s--yeah. Of course. You’re coming to a stranger’s home. You want to be safe. I get it.” Erin doubled back, pointing back to the pendant in her hand. “I don’t know how that screams safety but if it makes you feel better… who am I to judge, I guess? I feel like I should probably have more precautions for you, honestly.” But there was real distress there Erin couldn’t ignore and it softened some of the harsher criticisms she would usually sling at someone giving such uncertain vibes. She’d never admit it but she did feel a little safer knowing there was a hunter right next door if shit ever hit the fan. “A little weird. But that’s okay. Maybe you can explain it when we go inside? Unless you’ve got any other questions for me or things you need me to touch.” She offered a smile, wrapping her arms back around herself, the cold collecting in wisps in front of her lips.

“Trust me, it makes all the difference in the world.” Chloe looked up at the building that Erin was standing by for the first time properly, and breathe a small sigh of relief. “If it makes you feel better, I actually know one of your neighbours, funnily enough.” Chloe had been about to expand on that when she realised that discussing how she'd been rescued from her prison by Kaden Langley was not the kind of thing that you used to open a casual conversation. Today was about fun and friendship possibly hopefully, not about digging into something that she didn't want to think about right now this second. “Oh!” Chloe exclaimed, laughing a little too high and a little too nervously, “No, no! Nothing else to touch, not that I can think of. Unless… there’s anything you want to ask me or to have me touch?”

A lingering hesitation followed Chloe’s confession about knowing one of her neighbors, casting a long glance her way. Please don’t be Kaden, please don’t be Kaden, was all Erin could think. “I think I’m good on the touching thing. People usually take me to dinner before I get asked that question, just for future reference,” she teased, trying to edge out some of the growing awkwardness, still very aware that they hadn’t even stepped foot into the building yet. She started walking back towards the building, stuffing her hands back into her jacket pocket. “So… wait, you know one of my neighbors?” She tried to add in casually despite the growing dread building in her stomach. She opened the door for Chloe and led her down the damn striped hallway the man in question was woefully responsible for. “Wouldn’t happen to be some french guy? Kinda rude? Name rhymes with maiden?”

Chloe did a double take, before flushing with real embarrassment. She didn’t know what to say to that, unable to shake the anxious discomfort that Erin hadn’t touched the iron with her bare hands. It was probably fine. What was the probability of any random person being fae? They were so secret for a reason.

“Right,” she tried to chuckle awkwardly. “What can I say, I’m a very forward person.” It sounded as awkward out loud as it had in her head. Chloe ran her hand against the wall, just in case she needed the balance help as the warm air of the hall wrapped around herm, but quickly withdrew her hand as the wall striped. It wasn’t a change in wallpaper, nor, when Chloe squinted, did it look like paint, it was just… printed on there, as if it was always meant to be there.

“Did you have a mime neighbor?” Chloe asked, before realising Erin had also asked her a question, she raised her eyebrow with a smile. “He, uh, hasn’t been rude to me, but yeah, I know Kaden Langley.”

There was a noticeable uncertainty in Chloe that seemed like it’d been there for sometime, and likely there before agreeing to watch a stupid movie with a stranger online. It wasn’t Erin’s place to push and instead smiled back at her, trying to assure her this was fine despite whatever unease she currently felt. “Obviously,” she laughed softly, digging her keys out. Nearly dropped them at the door when the word mime actually came out of Chloe’s mouth. She chuckled nervously, raising a brow. “You know, I’m not entirely sure about that. But I think I do,” she smirked to herself before leading Chloe into the apartment. Even if it was still generally bare, it was warm. “I’m glad he wasn’t then. He’s right next door, actually. He’s…” Erin sighed, a hint of reluctance in her voice, trying to save face in front of someone who could possibly be a friend or friendly acquaintance of his. “He’s not the worst neighbor. Even if he bakes constantly and doesn’t share. Ever.” She smiled over at her, shrugging off her coat and hanging it on a hook beside the door. Narrowed her eyes, suddenly straightening. “Oh shoot--you don’t have any allergies to animals or anything, do you?” As if on cue, the small, fluffy cat hopped up on the table nearest to Chloe, greeting the other woman with a friendly chirping meow.

“Doesn’t he?” Chloe repeated with a smile, sure that wasn’t the only reason for the rivalry between the two. Not that it was her business, but she couldn’t even imagine Kaden being a jerk. A little snippy, maybe, a little quick to temper, but that was the worst of what she could imagine. “It’s really cruel, to make someone smell how good your baking is without sharing it.” All the same, as she looked around Erin’s apartment, she couldn’t help but compare it to Kaden’s next door. Chloe jumped, bumping into the back of the doorframe and grabbing it wildly before regaining her balance. Just a cat. Just a cat! Chloe didn’t even realise how she’d clutched the chest of her jumper until she breathed out shakily. “No!” She replied, “Not allergic at all. Just- just a bit easy to startle. Sorry. Um, are, are they friendly? Do they like to be pet?” Chloe asked, her voice creaking.

“Could certainly be worse,” Erin replied, trying to brush off the edge in her voice she might have let slip through about her neighbor. All things considered, it truly could have been worse. Wasn’t great knowing you shared a wall with someone who would have preferred to see you behind bars. Easy enough to forget as she watched Chloe nearly jump out of her skin when Betty popped out to say hello. “I’ll remember that,” she nodded, another assuring, if not awkwardly unsure smile crossing her lips. Erin only knew a few things about Chloe so far, and two of those were: easy to startle and made people touch a pendant when they met. Strong start. “Oh, no, pet away. She’s the sweetest thing you’ll ever meet, I promise,” she added, crossing over to pet the top of her head. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable and help yourself to anything out there.” There were already a few plates of snacks on plates waiting on the coffee table in front of the television. Maybe a slight overcompensation for two people but it was hard to remember a time she had someone over for a completel supernatural free evening, even if it involved shark infested natural disasters. “Can I get you coffee or tea or something to drink?”

“Don’t say that,” Chloe replied tightly, swallowing, her skin growing pale as she looked around for extra trouble. Or maybe Erin was the extra trouble. Or maybe she needed to chill, but the feeling that Erin was about to get herself trapped was… unshakeable. “I mean, I’m sure she’s amazing, but you know, you never know with absolutes, you don’t want to say anything that’s…. You know, you never know.” Chloe offered her hand towards the cat to sniff, then gently pet her head, only a tiny bit of tension melting from the shoulders as she was greeted with the cat pressing into her hand. Chloe swallowed, suppressing the moment’s panic at being asked to make a choice. “Coffee would be great,” She said after a moment. “Just black is good. I appreciate it.” Her skin crawled from how painfully awkward this already was. “So, funeral director, right? That’s a really interesting job, especially in a town like this.” She couldn’t shake the memory of how Erin had introduced herself, like she was supposed to just know who the funeral director was, because there were so many deaths.

Erin eyed Chloe warily as she fumbled through the explanation of an apparently very real fear that didn’t quite match up with its source. Not to Erin, anyway, and not right away. The more she thought about it though, a creeping, nearly long-forgotten dread started to climb its way back up insides. “Right,” she drawled slowly, as if trying to still understand but not wanting to be rude by sitting in the brief silence that followed it. She started the coffee anyway, thankful to have something to at least busy her hands with. “That’s pretty fair actually. Do you have a problem with promises as a whole, then? Or just absolutes?” She asked, maybe not so subtly alluding to what Chloe’s words had instantly brought to mind. A flash of Regan, a glass of water and Dr. Rickers’ beard hair flashed behind her eyes. If Chloe had any experience with those kinds of promises, her fear made a mountain of sense. “You mean a town like this with a death rate like this?” She tacked on, glancing over as she poured the coffee, a knowing smirk on her lips. “It keeps me busy, that’s for sure.” It did, anyway, and hopefully would continue to after things were sorted. She didn’t want to think about that right now though. “What did you say you did?” She asked, placing the cup of coffee in front Chloe before taking up a spot on the couch.

If Chloe could be any redder, she should just start a career as a traffic light. Her skin was flushed beetroot red as Erin drawled her skepticism. Which was better than what came next, as the blood drained from her face as quickly as it had appeared. Was it a trap? Erin had touched the iron with her gloves, after all, and Chloe was really regretting not insisting now. Then again, she wasn’t sure anyone who was a fae or hung out with fae in any significant way would have used the phrase I promise that quickly. “Promises are the most intense absolutes, more than most people realise, I think.” She tried to cover for herself, managing to answer the question even less subtly than Erin had asked it.

Safe to say, a conversation about jobs was much easier. “Well, uh, yes, considering the deathrate and all.” Chloe said quietly, matching Erin’s smile much more nervously. “Um, not much at the moment, if I’m honest? Kind of… looking for a job at the moment. I haven’t really been….. Employed for a few years now, but I used to teach music at an elementary school.” Because talking about the past was something Chloe could definitely, certainly do without coming across weird. It wasn’t even that the Lydia stuff was secret, or that she felt like it was a good idea to keep it secret, but in the closest thing she’d had to normalcy in… years, she was kind of reticent to ruin that.

Chloe might have answered her question but it didn’t leave Erin with any more answers or assurances than before she’d asked it. There was no missing the literal uncomfortable physical reaction Chloe had to her words. Her curiosity skyrocketed. “Oh, I agree,” she nodded whole-heartedly, wondering how long she could toe this line without asking what she actually wanted to know. The woman had already asked her to touch a pendant before she’d come into her home and they were about to watch a movie about a fictional shark-filled natural disaster. What did she really have to lose? “You make a promise and then suddenly you’re bound to it.” She pointedly paused, lifting the cup of coffee to her lips as she peered over at Chloe over the top of it. “Been there before and it’s not a good feeling. I don’t make promises I can’t keep anymore. Or at all, if I can help it.”

There was more ease in this part of the conversation, but not by much. If Erin ever thought she was wound tightly, she had absolutely nothing on the spring coil energy her new acquaintance had. “A music teacher? Really?” A softer, more genuine smile crossed Erin’s lips. “And there’s nothing at the schools right now? That’s surprising.” That high death rate touched every aspect of this town. No one was excluded. Her eyes narrowed gently in her direction. “Assuming teaching is something you want to get back to. Parents are always looking for private music instructors for their kids too. I was saddled with one until I was sixteen when mine decided I was learning how to play the organ.”

“Then you’re smart,” Chloe said softly, and itched to ask more, but they’d never watch the movie at all if she kept asking and… she wanted the quiet. She wanted to not spend every situation talking about fae, or being trapped, or anything. But her body did loosen up, relaxing, just to know that Erin knew something.

“Well, I don’t really know that I want to go back to music. Too much baggage, and my voice is kind of… wrecked.” Like she’d been swallowing gravel on a weekly basis. “I’m due a career change anyway, right? Something quiet and easy.” That didn’t even involve thinking about music. “Damn. The organ is an impressive instrument to learn, though, especially as a kid. Guessing it comes in handy at work too.”

Chloe’s conciseness didn’t have an edge to it but there was enough there for Erin to take the hint. There was more there, and as desperately as she wanted to dig further, chasing off the person she was trying to befriend with her nosiness wasn’t the goal for today. “Just experienced,” she tacked on with a raised brow, reaching for some of the snacks she’d prepared and left it at that.

Too much baggage? Wasn’t what she was expecting there either but she nodded as if she understood anyway. That was Chloe’s prerogative, after all. “Oh, absolutely. They loved being able to throw me out there in front of a grieving family and make the whole room sob with some Ave Maria or Amazing Grace.” She smirked, reaching for the remote, sorting through the available movies until the movie poster with the flying sharks filled the screen. “Something quiet and easy sounds fair though. Do you have your eyes on anything in particular?” She tilted her head at Chloe, a teasing smile on her lips. “You know, it’s very quiet in a funeral home. I’ll be opening up again soon, and positions are open, so…”

Experienced. Erin knew. Erin knew something about Fae, but the tone told her it wasn’t that she was fae. For the first time all night, Chloe relaxed more comfortably in her seat. She didn’t have to explain everything or talk about everything. They could just both… know, and not address it, not tonight. “Oh, I bet. Those melodies are heart stoppers.”

“The job offerings in this town are pretty… eclectic. I applied for a reception job at a ghost tour operator, but apparently competition for that kind of job is fierce,” Chloe said with an amused smile, not realising that not believing in ghosts had been the only reason she hadn’t gotten it. She smiled back at Erin, not quite sure how sincere the offer was. “Maybe you’ll see my application at some point,” Chloe said quietly, and although she expected to cringe away from the thought of working in such a macabre field, she found herself oddly… at ease with the idea. She’d seen more than enough terrible death to be afraid of the mundane kind.

Erin smiled sincerely in Chloe’s direction. Whatever she’d said seemed to add an air of calmness to the room, for the first time since she’d met her outside and was asked to touch an iron pendant. She couldn’t say she wasn’t thankful for it. “Well, I’d be happy to read over it, if that’s the case.” She wasn’t sure how applicable Chloe’s skills as a music teacher were going to translate to the funeral home but she supposed if she could wrangle a group of kids with loud instruments, she could handle some phone calls, surely. They’d cross that bridge when or if they got there.

“Oh!” She interjected, finishing a quick sip of her coffee and set it down on the table. “The movie.” Tucking her legs under her, she let a goofier smile pull at her lips and clicked the remote until the film was up and ready to play. “Are you ready to experience the thrill of a lifetime? Or do you need more time to prepare?”

“I don’t think anyone’s ever truly ready for Sharknado,” Chloe replied with a grin, settling into the couch. “How can anyone prepare for that level of artistry?” She turned her eyes to the screen as the opening sequence began, the corners of her lips turned up. Her body thrummed with a quiet kind of contentment. It was easy to be scared, but it was just as easy to be grateful. There was, on this couch with a new acquaintance and a delightfully terrible movie playing, so much to still be grateful for.

#wickedswriting #chatzy #chatzy: chloe #making adult friends

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eyreguide · 5 years ago

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5 Things I Learned About Jane Eyre

A few years ago I was interviewed by a UK based educational company in preparation for their release of content about the Brontës aimed for teachers and students. Sadly the company, Train of Thought Productions, seems to be no more, but at the time they sent me a complimentary copy of the DVD titled “Brontës in Context”. Unfortunately I believe it is hard to find now, but I found it a very interesting examination of the Brontës’ lives and work.

The Jane Eyre section of the DVD was especially illuminating. I’ve never studied Jane Eyre in school, and although I've read critical texts about the story, there are schools of thoughts that I haven’t really explored. Jane Eyre is such an intertextually rich story, that I should have anticipated that this DVD would be eye-opening in unexpected ways. So this post is about the things I learned from the "Brontës in Context" DVD.

1st Person Narration

Okay, I do know that Jane Eyre is written in the first person. And I know that because the novel has a first person POV, the reader is drawn more into Jane's story, her spirit and her fiery nature. But one comment from a professor on the DVD really struck me - the idea that Jane addresses the reader personally (by saying "reader") more and more as the story progresses. "Reader, I married him." being the famous example. I was curious though to see if that was really true, so I went to the Gutenberg online copy and did a search - in the scroll bar, there are little yellow ticks that show where the word comes up in the text, so I took a screenshot of that bar to illustrate (I made the scroll bar horizontal).

From left to right: The beginning of Jane Eyre to the end

Again the yellow marks are every time Jane says "reader" (which is not absolutely accurate since there are like three times it's in the novel, and it's not addressing the reader of the book) But it's true that Jane does directly reach out to the reader more as the novel progresses. The professor on the DVD explains it as Jane wanting to take control of her story, and one way she does this is by correcting the reader's thoughts - by giving them the truth directly. I thought that was a fascinating and accurate explanation of the purpose of Jane addressing the reader.

Bluebeard

To me, Jane Eyre is most succinctly compared to two fairy tales - Cinderella and Beauty and the Beast. I am aware of a Bluebeard connection, but I feel like the aforementioned tales encompasses the story more. But after watching this DVD I am leaning more towards seeing Jane Eyre in a "Bluebeard" light. Especially as Jane Eyre is a Gothic novel, and Bluebeard fits that genre the best of these three tales. There's a "secret at its heart" (quote from the DVD) which is a thoughtful encapsulation of both stories. And there was a comment made by one of the professors that placed the reader of the novel as the curious Bluebeard wife, reading the novel to discover the secret. Such an interesting idea! (And does that mean that Mr. Rochester is my husband??)

St. John and Helen

The role of religion is touched on in the DVD, and there was a thought that the character of St. John Rivers (who is not a bad person, but is kind of unforgivably self-righteous - oh, just me?) hearkens back to Jane's friend Helen Burns. Helen is such a positive character and St. John considerably less so, that I initally felt it's almost a slur on Helen to link the two. But in the context of what the professor on the DVD said it makes sense - they are similar in that they 'quash physical desires'. And in that way I can understand why Jane would be drawn to them - they both encourage Jane to embrace a devotion to God and reason, at a time when her passionate nature is giving her the most pain. Unfortunately for St. John, his function later in the novel means he also has to show Jane that living such a cold, dispassionate life is not for her. And hey, both Helen and St. John meet untimely ends. Which to my mind is Charlotte making a harsh judgement on the idea of living just for God.

Jane and Injustice

Here's something that is hugely appealing to me about this novel. The novel can be pointed to as a feminist work, and Jane is speaking out for women everywhere, but what I love about Jane is that it's not her treatment as a woman that makes her upset. She's really angry at injustice. And the whole misogyny thing is just a part of that. It really took this DVD to drive that home to me. Jane is so passionate about what she feels is not right - the inability of Mrs. Reed to love her, the treatment of the girls at Lowood, the way Mr. Rochester speaks of Bertha, St. John Rivers not wanting to marry Rosamund Oliver. It's a glorious aspect to her character and reminds me of a line from an old sixties adaptation of the novel - Mr. Rochester calls Jane "the small crusader, pitiless with righteousness and rectitude." Rochester was a little harsh with that line, but I do like the 'small crusader' imagery. (In the 1961 adaptation he's more perturbed than happy that Jane's come back to him after he's been blinded and can not be the kind of man he wants to be for her.)

Postcolonialism

The DVD touches on three critical schools of thought in connection to Jane Eyre - Feminism, Marxism and Postcolonialism. And I learned two things in relation to the last one - what Postcolonialism is exactly, and that I really don't like seeing Jane Eyre in that context. In a nutshell, Postcolonialism is looking at the imperialist, British attitude as represented by Mr. Rochester as rich white guy, and Bertha as poor Creole woman. And Bertha's relation to Jane as a dark mirror. There's even a book written with those themes called Wide Sargasso Sea which is a prequel to Jane Eyre. It's from Bertha's viewpoint. I didn't care for the book actually. The thing with me is, I am sympathetic to Mr. Rochester. And I don't really see how you can accept the view that Mr. Rochester is a lying, manipulative scoundrel with no redeeming qualities and still like the novel or Jane. Because Jane - the character to whom the reader is intimately involved and invested in - chooses Mr. Rochester in the end, as the person who makes her the happiest. And if you love Jane because she is an intelligent, moral, capable heroine, as we have gotten to know her and rely on her throughout this story - it's silly to think she is so mistaken as to have made a horrible choice in the end. Also she is telling her story with 10 years distance, and not repenting her decision. She is happy, so what more could anyone ask for?

But back to Postcolonialism and why it does not gel with me; because I also feel like making a story called JANE EYRE, with the first person narration by said JANE EYRE, and then evaluating the story through NOT the main character is kind of ridiculous. Jane Eyre is such a personal journey, that I feel it's a big leap to talk about the novel like Charlotte Brontë was seriously examining slavery/race and British imperialism. If one chooses to see Bertha as completely innocent and horrendously mistreated, at least let it be because Mr. Rochester has misjudged her and acted unsympathetically, before saying it's obviously a master/slave dynamic. And I will just insert this excerpt of a letter that Charlottë Bronte wrote in response to some comments on Bertha:

Miss Kavanagh's view of the Maniac coincides with Leigh Hunt's. I agree with them that the character is shocking, but I know that it is but too natural. There is a phase of insanity which may be called moral madness, in which all that is good or even human seems to disappear from the mind and a fiend-nature replaces it. The sole aim and desire of the being thus possessed is to exasperate, to molest, to destroy, and preternatural ingenuity and energy are often exercised to that dreadful end. The aspect in such cases, assimilates with the disposition; all seems demonized. It is true that profound pity ought to be the only sentiment elicited by the view of such degradation, and equally true is it that I have not sufficiently dwelt on that feeling; I have erred in making horror too predominant. Mrs. Rochester indeed lived a sinful life before she was insane, but sin is itself a species of insanity: the truly good behold and compassionate it as such.

- Charlottë Bronte to W.S. Williams, written 4 January 1848

For me, the interesting points in the letter being Charlotte was (later?) more sympathetic to Bertha's plight, but not condemnatory of Mr. Rochester - she mentions that Bertha has led a sinful life before she was insane and that because of the nature of Bertha's insanity (as Charlotte wrote and understood it), it was probably too easy to 'demonize' her from the character's POV, which shouldn't happen to someone who is truly compassionate. Obviously Mr. Rochester doesn't get points in the philanthropy department which is noted by Jane early on. I understand and completely believe that Bertha's situation is awful and sad in so many ways, but I don't feel that it is important enough to the novel to base interpretations of the story on. Yet can I point out that Mr. Rochester didn't lock up Bertha for funnsies - it would have been so much easier for him if she were not mad because then he could divorce her. (The law at the time being that you could not divorce your wife if she was diagnosed insane.) If he could have let her go to have a normal life and not been responsible if she attacked people, he probably would have been all over that.

To wrap up, I am saddned that this DVD is not widely available any more (at least my google searches have not been fruitful) because it was a very well concieved educational program. This DVD was sent to me in 2015, and I’m revisiting it, by posting this on my blog. I orginally posted this on a former blog. And I believe this post once featured on the Train of Thought Productions website, but sadly that site is no more.

#Jane Eyre #Charlotte Bronte #Literary Analysis #Victorian Literature

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itsreallylaterightnow · 5 years ago

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Febuwhump: Run Into My Arms(walk with me into the light) Chapter 1: (Lost) - Don’t Leave Me Now

HERE WE GOOOO! SURPRISE! I posted the first chapter of Febuwhump on the last day of January! I can’t be tamed! But actually, I just have to be out all day tomorrow and be able to post, so you get it a day early! Please check it out, and make sure to give the biggest of thanks to @akillerqueenyouare & @seaweedbrain3000 for all of their help on this!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22499866/chapters/53765497

AUTHOR NOTES:

First and foremost thank you to my AMAZING beta readers! I could not have done it without you both! @akillerqueenyouare & @seaweedbrain3000 on Tumblr! Check them both out! Both are so incredibly talented, and did so much to help ensure that this was somewhat readable ;)

Secondly, this takes place after Endgame. In this timeline Carol Danvers is the one that snapped (she won't be in this story but just so know exactly where we are in the timeline!) Also, Steve didn't do the out of character crap and leave with the stones. He is still very much so present for this fic!

Thirdly, this is a whump-filled fic! If you are not prepared for that, then please don't click on, but I will give specific warnings before each chapter. The warnings will contain spoilers, so don't read unless you are prepared for that!

Lastly, please don't forget to come say hi on my tumblr! (Itsreallylaterightnow)! I have put so much work into the fic, and I cannot wait for your feedback!

I am posting this early, because I won't be able to post tomorrow, I'll be out all day at a basketball game! So, you're welcome! :)

Now, sit back, relax, and dig into this inter-connected labor of my love!

Warnings: Major Character Death, Panic Attack, Mild Dissociation.

Song: Falling x Harry Styles

HERE WE GOOOOO!!!!

He wasn’t okay. He hadn’t been okay, and he wouldn’t be okay for the foreseeable future. Actually, he wouldn’t be okay forever. Past this life and into whatever lay on the other side.

The other side. God, it sounded beautiful. To be there. To be with her.

To be with her dark hair, intense- unwavering eyes. To see her. Just one last – white-knuckle-gripping – time. One last time. To wrap his arms around her thin waist, to feel the comfort and protection that he held around her. To shower her in the love that he felt in every inch of his body for her. He wanted to kiss her lips- they were the softest things he had ever felt. If eyes were the window to the soul, her lips were the opening of the window and inviting him into her life.

He could have listened to her voice forever. He could have just sat - unwavering. Unfaltering - beside her forever. His eyes roaming over her face, taking in the rays of sunshine that they leaked out. The warmth from her soul shining onto his – knowing he was truly and irrevocably immortal beside her.

It was the knowledge that he had been wrong. So horribly, undeniably, painstakingly wrong. That in one split second – he had lost that light forever. To be alone forever. To be so lonely. Forever.

He could remember. The exact moment. The single, millisecond that he lost his entire world. That he shattered the glass figure that he had sworn to protect for life.

His back screamed in pain, his shoulder yanking him violently. The web in his left hand pulling taught. All he could think was that he’d done it! He’d killed the Green Goblin, and saved MJ! Peter had tugged her up, and into his arms, a small smile on his face, as her nose had rested in the crook of her neck. MJ had never liked heights or falling. He’d owe her a date to her favorite coffee shop for this one. He’d pulled them back up holding her so-tightly in his arms, finding Iron Man, standing on guard to help should any problems arise.

“We did it, Tony. No more- no more of this chaos, though MJ may never want to go on another date with me again,” He had teased.

“Friday, are you sure? Are you absolutely certain?” Peter had frowned then.

“Mr. Stark, I just told you, he’s dead. I promise.” But Peter was just ignored. Tony had called the suit to retract as he stepped out calmly. But there was this look- tingling down his spine – this look on Tony’s face that was so… so gravely serious. That Peter physically stumbled back. MJ was still limp in his arms, so he tugged her tighter, waiting for her to get past the “shock” stage and into the “yelling” stage that was sure to come.

“Kid-” The older man’s voice broke off. Peter just looked around, frowning as he tugged his mask off when he saw there were no civilians. “Kid, I need you to sit down.” Peter had just pulled her closer to him, shaking his head.

It started in his toes. The grief. He had known. When e had been unable to hear the heartbeat that had become second nature to him. He had known when she hadn’t moved since he’d caught her. He had known, when he’d seen her closed eyes. He had known when he’d felt no breath coming from her.

Peter stumbled forward. The weight of the girl in his arms too much for him. Collapsing down- right to his knees as he had struggled to breath.

“Tony-Tony-Tony-Tony-Tony -Tony -Tony -Tony -Tony – something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong- help me, please help me!” he didn’t realize he was screaming. Tony had kneeled beside him, trying his best to pull MJ’s still form into his arms, but Peter had just gripped her tighter, pulling her face to his as he readjust his grip. His hand running through those curls- the last time they would run through those curls.

“Hey, Michelle, Michelle- stay with me. Stay with me. You stay with me!” The something tore. His heart, being carved from his chest as a cry tore from his throat. And tears ran down his face faster than he could have imagined. And Peter was bent over her face, weeping – unable to stop himself as the cries tore from his throat.

“PLEASE! God- please no!”

He doesn’t remember, now, how long he’d sat there. Holding her as her body had grown colder. He had sobbed until strong hands had removed her from him. Taking her away. Death- jealous of the love they’d held for one another, had stolen her straight from his grasp. Then warm arms. He needed warm arms. He’d been so cold. Chills racing up and down his body. A world without sunlight in it. A world without hope, with no way for him to fix it. A world where he never again would smile. His sun had gone down. And no more would he feel.

Something laid over his shoulders, familiar, strong hands helping him stand as numb footstep after numb footstep carried him to the nearest vehicle. Someone was talking - but he didn’t hear it. Someone was holding him. He couldn’t feel it.

He doesn’t know how long they drove, but eventually the moving blurs of the vehicle stopped. But Peter’s world continued to flash by him as he desperately tried to tie himself down. Then his foot touched the ground, and he had screamed as though he been stabbed, his body collapsing. Someone reaching for him- dark eyes and motor oil – but Peter had screamed more.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!” The arms raised in surrender as the eyes plead for an answer. “I did it, Mr.- oh God- I did this! I – I caught her- and I, it was too much- she died because-I” And then he couldn’t breathe. He was under the building, hands shaking as he pushed at the concrete. The concrete had hands, as his vision blurred with dark spots. He could hear yelling, but it didn’t matter, it would never matter.

Something pricked his arm, and Peter felt his body beginning to go limp. A strange peace settling over him. Someone’s fingers in his hair (he’d ran his fingers through her hair too).

“We’ve got you, Pete. We’ve got you.” As his eyes closed, his soul eternally grateful for the peace the darkness brought.

~~~

So, here he found himself. Stone cold- sat against the side of her tombstone. His fingers running over the etching of her name. She had been so much more than just her name. Tony had paid for the funeral, the tombstone – it was a beautiful black marble with gold etching. Exactly what Michelle would have picked for herself.

You know, she had always told Peter that flowers were ridiculous. “They just die, Peter. Sure they’re pretty for a while, but why waste time and money on something that will just wither away too soon?” If he could go back – God if only he could go back – he would have grabbed her face and drawn his own into a deadly serious stare:

“Michelle,” the lone boy in the winter cold whispered to no one. “Michelle, you love the flowers, and admire the flowers continuously, every aching day that you have with them because you never know when it will be the last. You grip tightly to each petal, and you watch as the color drifts away slowly, because you know that they will wilt and die. You know that you only have a limited amount of time with them, so you sit and admire their beauty for every possible second that you have been granted with them. And then when it’s over, you sit and thank them for gracing you with their time. For being your brightness in the dull room. For lighting up every day with a splash of color in the dreary world. And then, you’ll decide to never buy flowers again. Because you know that it will never be the same as the first time.”

He took a shuddering breath, the wind stabbing at his lungs.

“It will never be the same as the first time.”

#febuwhump #febuwhump2020 #febuwhump is gonna hurt #Peter parker #Michelle jones #Tony stark #major character death

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cilliansaccent · 5 years ago

Text

The Peaky Designer - Cillian Fanfic, Chapter 16

Hello, welcome back. Below is the next instalment of my fanfiction!

Leave a like or a comment if you liked it, or if I can do anything better! Please, it would mean the world and to understand if anyone is enjoying my writing. Also, sharing/reblogging would be even better.

PLEASE READ:

I will not be including Cillian’s family as it’s kinda weird since he has children lmao. Just a mention of his parents and a previous lover.

I will indicate in a chapter if there is smut in the beginning and before the actual scene!!

I will add trigger warnings if there is any!!

There is a variety of levels of swearing during a chapter, I will not hold back, everyone swears.

The timestamp for the Fic is now 2016 and onwards!!

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Background: Gabrijela Babic is a Croatian girl from Sydney, Australia. She is born in the year 1991 on the 24th of December. She studies a Fashion degree in a University with a major in Game Design as well. Her teacher in the fashion designer class managed to nail an Internship on the set of Peaky Blinders with the shows very own Costume Designer, Allison McCosh. There, she travels to London for under a year to learn how to be one, working alongside the actors as well the man she admires, Cillian Murphy. But, her platonic feelings for the man begins to grow into something more, and she wonders whether she should pursue them or let him go for fear of her strict parents and her three older brothers…

Characters:

Swantje Paulina as Gabrijela Babic (swalina on Instagram)

Cillian Murphy

Word Count: 3,497

!!Warnings!!: Major sex scene at the end.

Date: January 2017

Chapter Name: One Last Time

Brief Chapter Outline: Cillian and Gabrijela spend their last day together doing whatever they can before they end it with some heated passion...

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Cillian's brother dropped them at the airport before he bid farewell to them both. It was another early morning start but they had to get home as early as possible so Gabrijela could start packing and figuring out what to send via post. They checked in, wandered around the airport for a bit and ate before they headed through to the boarding gate. As they sat and waited, Cillian had his arm around her shoulder, his cheek against her head that rested on his shoulder.

She scrolled through her Instagram, she remembered he had caught her on her fandom account and she was red-faced when she showed him what she posted. It was a multifandom account, and she posted various textposts, fan art and the like of her favourite books or TV Shows. "Still makes me chuckle you posted such old photos of me with those funny captions or whatever you'd call them." Cillian murmured. She rolled her eyes, "Shut up. I was and still am a dedicated fan!" "Well, now you are more than a fan to me." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Mhm." She tilted her head back and kissed him softly before she resumed her scrolling. But before she was going to tuck her phone away she came across a photo in the explore section of the app. "Oh, good god." She whispered in shock, "Cilly look." She showed him a photo of them both. It was more distanced but blurry so you couldn't make it out who she was really. It was when they were waiting at the airport coming to Cork. "Who took it?" He looked at it, frowning. He knew she wouldn't post anything of their relationship online, they had a talk about it and she was super respectful about it. "No idea. Just says someone had taken it. Maybe it's from Twitter." She felt worry ease into her. She hoped there weren't other sneaky photos of her and Cillian online. She never really said she was going overseas to her online fanbase either, just to her close friends back at home and the ones she made at Uni. "I'm sorry." He said as he ran his hand up and down her arm. "What for?" She looked up at him, confused as to why he would apologise. "For that." He gestured to the photo, "I should have been more thoughtful of those things." He began to let her go. "Cillian, no. Hey," she took his hands as she faced him, "I knew that something like this would happen on the end. I don't want it to ruin what we have." She didn't want him holding back on her when they were out in public. "I don't want you to be plastered all over the internet, either." He squeezed her hands. "I mean, my face is already on the internet. My accounts are not private." She shrugged. "I'll take a look on Twitter but... It doesn't bother me much. Unless you don't want the word going out about you being with someone." "I don't really like the idea of people being too into someone else's life. I'm just concerned about how it would be interpreted by everyone." He said. "Mm. I agree. They can be quite cruel. I've seen how people can react to their idols being with someone else... But again, Cillian, I don't want to like... Not be romantic when we are out in public. I want us to be just us, holding hands and all that. I couldn't care less what online haters would think about." She cupped his jaw. "Are you sure?" He asked. "I am. I can handle it. Besides, if there is an issue, who cares hm? They don't know us." She kissed him lightly. "If you say so." He said as his arm went back around her and they resumed their position. He would still be worried either way. It was time to board and they detached themselves from each other and picked up their bags. They lined up with the other people, holding hands. She would not let the online images hurt them. When it came to showing affection, she didn't want to hide it. "Um, excuse me," Someone tapped Gab on her shoulder. She turned to see three girls looking at them keenly, "Are you dating Cillian?" She asked, eyes darting to their held hands and to Cillian who also turned to see them. They seemed quite surprised at the sight of Gabrijela, she could see it in their eyes. Cillian had replied instead, "We are. Why do you ask?" "There are rumours online, uh, photos popping up. The fans are uh, going crazy about it. Kinda a big deal, cause no one um... well expected..." She trailed off when Gab and Cillian turned away to get through the gates. Gabrijela gave Cillian a little giggle as they stepped through and headed down the hallway. "Seems like more photos." He said, frowning deeply. "It's fine Cillian, don't stress." She squeezed his hand. They got into the plane and took their seats, this time he was beside the window. The whole ordeal started up again but Cillian comforted her, and she settled faster with his gentle and caring words. She cuddled him throughout the trip, the turbulence was pretty bad as they went through a storm. He wrapped his jacket around her shoulders and made the scarf that she stole from him as a pillow on his shoulder. But after an hour and a half or so, they landed safely and got off the plane. The girls that spoke to them before seemed to follow them. "We got a bit of a party following us," Gabrijela said to Cillian as they headed towards the many taxis that waited. He glanced over his shoulder and chuckled, "It seems so." He hailed down a taxi and got their stuff into the boot before he held open the door for her. "Tough they won't see much anymore." She laughed and got into the car and he got in after her. It was nice to be back home now, they headed upstairs and she laid on his bed, "Ooooo," She groaned, "Cillys bed... So good." She giggled as he crawled up over her, laying down on her but not enough to crush her. He kissed her neck, "You miss it?" He asked. She giggled, "Yeah I did." She turned so she was now looking up at him. She leaned up and kissed him, "We gotta keep moving though. I have to go back to the apartment to pack up the remaining things there and clean up." He nodded and got off her. They had a quick bite before they headed over to her apartment. They packed up whatever she had left behind into his car before they cleaned up the place. She threw out most of the old food that was left behind. The apartment was just like how she came to it. She had taken off the sheets to and left them as a neat pile. She left a wonderful card and a wine behind for the owner of the apartment before she finally said goodbye to the place. Heading back to Cillian's home, she spent it packing up her stuff. But she kept most of her souvenirs in her suitcase all wrapped up in clothing. She didn't want to send it via parcel. She had packed the majority, leaving out her new set of clothing for tomorrow. Every other bits and piece was easy to just shove into her carry-on. Cillian came up the stairs to see how she was going, "Damn you are quick," He said. "Yeah. Just need a scale to weigh the bag." She said. "Got it." He went to the wardrobe and pulled out the scale. They weighed and she had some more room to add a few more clothing in. Now she had two small piles of clothing to send off. "Let's head to the post office now." She said and they headed off. They did what they had to do, and she made sure she was to pay for the fees of the parcel. Since it was a nice day, Cillian decided to take her out to St. James' park to have brunch. He had a blanket in the back and they headed in a nicer part of the park, a little secluded. They set up and Cillian went to a nearby cafe he liked to buy them food. In the meantime, Gabrijela spoke to her dad on the phone and listened to him ask if she had everything packed and whatnot. He would call her in the morning before she would leave as well. She laid back on the blanket, a hand over her tummy. She listened to the hum of the city and the voices of people around her. Cillian returned with a bag, "I'm back. Bit of a hold-up but I'm here." He grinned as he sat down beside her. She sat up, "Thanks babe," She smiled and helped him take the stuff out. "Whatcha get?" "I got us both eggs and bacon, I got you hot chocolate as well. I also got capers for myself." He said. "Thank you," She leaned over and kissed him deeply. "Love you." "Love you too," He said and pecked at her lips before they both dug into their food. They finished up and Cillian disposed of their rubbish before he came back and they laid back together. She snuggled close to his chest, his arm around her shoulders. "I'm gonna miss this," She said, stroking his chest. "Same." He played with her hair, running his fingers through it. "You gonna miss me?" She looked up at him. "Of course I will. So much." He cupped her face. "I will make sure we can talk as much as possible, video and all." She said, leaning up to kiss him. "Sounds good." He murmured, kissing her back. They held each other for a bit like that, totally in their own world as they kissed slowly. They finally broke apart and packed up before he went back to the car to leave the blanket and came back to her. They took a walk around the park and Cillian listened to her talk about how she was going to dread going back in for the last year of her University course. "I've been doing good in my game design as well, so I might see if I can get into that." She said. "Not costume designing?" Cillian asked. "Dunno, I enjoyed it but... I was quite stressed. I don't like the feeling." She laughed softly. "But I'll see." They came back to the car and headed home. When she stepped through the door, Cillian closed it and then pulled her against him. She gasped, "What are you doing?" She laughed as he began to pepper her neck with kisses. "Kissing you." He said, his hands resting on her hips before they snaked up to cup her breasts. "I think you want more than kisses, babe." She moaned softly as he gripped them tightly. She was pushed up against a wall, "Cilly." He kept fondling her breasts, then began to unbutton her blouse and discarded it aside. She smirked and pushed her ass against his crotch, then began to grind against him. "Mmm babe, you like that huh?" She purred. His hands returned to her hips, "I do. Keep doing that love." He watched how she moved against him, his hands now moved back up her sides before he turned her around and kissed her deeply, his fingers tangling in her hair. She moaned as she gripped his shirt, lifting it up before she pulled it over his head. "I want... I want you to use something on me." She blushed, running her hands down his soft skin along his arms. "Yeah? What is it?" He kissed her again. "It's in the bedroom. Let's go there." She took his hand as he picked up their shirts and headed upstairs. She opened up her suitcase and pulled out a black bag. Then she held out an eight-inch long vibrator that was a sparkly purple. "I'm going to be honest, I've never seen them in person." Cillian laughed as he came over, taking it from her. "No?" She raised a brow, "Then where did you see it? In porn?" She brushed past him and laid on the bed, smirking. "Maybe." He chuckled and turned to her, "So you want me to tease you with this?" He turned it on. "Yeah." She nodded, parting her legs despite still got her pants on. He brought it to her crotch, and held it against her and watched how she let out a moan. "Mmm, let's take off these pants first." He said as he waited for her to take her jeans off and throw it aside. He got on the bed, kneeling between her legs as he returned the vibe to her core. She sucked in a breath, gripping the sheets. He had it on a low setting, stroking her up and down through her panties. "Ah..." She laid back, eyes closed as she enjoyed the feeling. "Cilly..." "We should turn it up now, don't want you to enjoy this too much." He said and turned it even higher. She gasped, bringing her legs up. "No, keep them down." He pinned them between his thigh and calves. She whined. Cillian continued to tease her, letting the tip roll over her clit which caused her back to arch then he dragged it back down and then inserted the toy into her. He pushed her leg open with one hand, eyes flicking from her core to her face. "God, Gabrijela." He loved the pleasure on her face, the need and desperation in her eyes. "Cillian! Please! I'm close!" She whined, twisting the sheets in her hands. "Not yet, love. Hold on for me." He said and pushed the toy in and out of her. He let go of her legs and leaned down, and wrapped his lips around her clit and began to suck hard. Her hands shot into his hair, the vibrations of the toy was intense and he kept pushing it against her g-spot. "Fuck! Cillian! Cilly!" She bucked her hips, her screams loud as she came, arching right off the bed. He kept going till she was done, groaning softly as he pulled the toy out, seeing how slick it was with her climax. "Fastest climax ever." He chuckled, kissing up her thigh to sit back. She panted, "I need you in me, Cillian. Oh god." She shook her head. "Mm, but you asked me to use this on you. So I will." He mused, "Lay on your side." She moved to her side as he got behind her, an arm went under her head and locked around her chest. He brought the vibrator back to her clit and began to tease her once more. "N-Not right after a climax! Fuck!" She stayed still for him, she wanted to be good for him. But she couldn't help but buck her hips. "Be still, love. Don't move too much." He kissed her neck, sucking on a spot. She whimpered, clinging to his arms that were around her, god he was relentless as he continued to prod and poke her sensitive clit. But then he decided to push it into her and she arched her back a little. "Cillian!" He claimed her lips once more and kissed her as he thrust the vibrator inside her, she was super slick so it moved in and out swiftly but he could feel when she clenched her walls the vibe got stuck. Gabrijela reached up and dragged her fingers through her hair, "I need you, Cillian, I want you inside me. Please." She begged, rolling her hips. "Yeah? How bad?" He tugged on her bottom lip. "Really bad, Cilly. Please don't make me wait." She could feel his hard cock press against her ass through his jeans. He let out a grunt and got her to hold the vibrator inside her as he pulled off his pants. Then he was back up against her, and removed the vibrator, "Tuck me in, love." He nibbled on her earlobe. She reached between her legs and found his waiting cock, "So hard, baby." She giggled and positioned him to her entrance. Then she tugged him and he was inside her in one swift movement. They both moaned in unison, "Hold your leg up, Gab." He kissed her neck then to her shoulder. She lifted her leg up and he placed the vibrator back on to her clit. She cried out softly, and he felt her walls tighten around him. "Mmm fuck, Gabrijela. Do that again." She nodded and clenched her walls, she could feel every hard inch of him, especially when he started to move. "Shit." She gasped. He kept his eyes focused on her face, enjoying how tight she was and how he managed to drag those cute little sounds from her. He thought about how lucky he was to have her as his girlfriend. He had wished for someone to come into his life and here she was. Here they were, making love. He loved her, truly, he loved her. He could not bring himself to think of any other woman but her. And his heart would hurt when she was no longer warming his bed. Gabrijela looked up, seeing the pure love and devotion in his eyes. "Cillian, I love you." She said through a moan, "I love you so much! Oh!" She could feel her climax start to build again, and this one was gonna be a big one. "I love you too, beautiful. Oh fuck, I love you!" He kissed her hard, pounding hard into her, the bed shaking a little. He will miss her. So he threw aside the vibrator, turning it off and laid her on her back and pushed right back into her with a groan. Her legs locked around his thighs and her arms around his back, her nails digging into his skin. "Fuck! Mark me Gabrijela, fuck." He cursed and kissed her again as her nails scraped down his skin. He moved fast and wild, all he wanted was to please her. Make sure she would feel this for days when she would return back to her home. "Mine!" He cried out, "You're mine, Gabbie." "All yours baby. I'm all yours." She cupped his face and kissed him passionately but it was messy as from his fast thrusting. "I'm gonna cum, Cilly. Oh god, don't stop. Oh please!" Cillian worked hard, panting hard, his moans loud and cracked occasionally before they got faster and faster before his climax tore through him like wildfire. She screamed out his name as she came with him, she felt his warm load fill her inside up as she clenched and locked him in as she finished with him. After some moments they calmed down, but he stayed on top of her and inside her. His head was tucked into her neck and kissing her flushed skin. She ran her hands up and down his back slowly, admiring the curves of his spine and the divots of his muscles in his shoulders. "My handsome man," She whispered, her fingers returning to the nape of his neck and playing with the soft curls of his hair. He let out a soft chuckle, "My beautiful woman." He said as he raised his head to look at her. "My love." He touched her cheek, stroking her skin with a thumb. "I love you with all my heart, Cillian." She said, leaning into the touch. He gave her that breathtaking smile and they kissed for some time, and when they managed to get their breath back they got back into lovemaking. It was slow and gentle, then hard and fast with many different positions. Any position that had her against his body. After they have worn each other out, they bathed and then spent the rest of the afternoon together in his home. He pulled out his guitar and sang for her, then made her the best dinner ever, watched a cute romantic film before they drank red wine in front of the fire. They never parted from each other, every minute they wanted to be close. And despite being worn out, they made love one more time in front of the fire. She rode him till he came twice in her before he lifted her up and carried her to bed. He laid her down and they cuddled naked, she faced him and snuggled into his chest. Today was a wonderful day, and she would remember it forever. "I love you," She said in the dark. "I love you too," Cillian replied, kissing her head before they both fell asleep holding each other.

#cillian murphy #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #fanfiction

16 notes · View notes

trishmishtree · 5 years ago

Photo

[Current as of March 13, 2020]

Dr. Shahed (screenshot above) is an emergency department physician in Ohio who shared this post on Facebook. It’s an account of COVID-19 from the perspective of an ICU doc working on the frontlines in Seattle. Some of my laypeople-friends were sharing it around (and I’ve seen it floating around on twitter and various internet forums], but I noticed that it’s really dense and contains a lot of medical abbreviations and jargon, like it was meant more for other physicians and isn’t really useful for the average reader. So I thought I’d provide a translation for my non-medblr followers who are looking to stay informed. (If you want further clarification, feel free to drop me an ask)

***

This is from a front-line ICU physician in a Seattle hospital

This is his personal account:

We have 21 patients and 11 deaths since 2/28.

We are seeing patients who are young (20s), fit, no comorbidities, critically ill. It does happen.

US has been past containment since January

Currently, all of ICU is for critically ill COVID patients, all of med-surg [medical-surgical] floors are for stable COVID patients and end-of-life care, half of PCU [progressive care unit], half of ER. New Pulmonary Clinic offshoot is open for patients with respiratory symptoms

CDC is no longer imposing home quarantine on providers who were wearing only droplet-isolation PPE when intubating, suctioning, bronching, and in one case doing bloody neurosurgery. Expect when it comes to your place you may initially have staff home-quarantined. Plan for this NOW. Consider wearing airborne-isolation PPE for aerosol-generating procedures in ANY patient in whom you suspect COVID, just to prevent the mass quarantines.

We ran out of N95s (thanks, Costco hoarders) and are bleaching and re-using PAPRs [powered air purifying respirators], which is not the manufacturer’s recommendation. Not surprised on N95s as we use mostly CAPRs [controlled air purifying respirators] anyway, but still.

Terminal cleans (including UV light) for ER COVID rooms are taking forever, Environmental Services is overwhelmed. This is bad, as patients are stuck coughing in the waiting room. Recommend planning now for Environmental Service upstaffing, or having a plan for sick patients to wait in their cars (that is not legal here, sadly).

CLINICAL INFO (based on our cases and info from CDC conference call today with other COVID providers in US):

The Chinese data on 80% mildly ill, 14% hospital-ill, 6-8% critically ill are generally on the mark. Data [in the US] very skewed by late and very limited testing, and the number of our elderly patients going to comfort care.

Being young & healthy (zero medical problems) does not rule out becoming vented or dead

Probably the time course to developing significant lower respiratory symptoms is about a week or longer (which also fits with timing of sick cases we started seeing here, after we all assumed it was endemic as of late Jan/early Feb).

Based on our hospitalized cases (including the not-formally-diagnosed ones who are obviously COVID – it is quite clinically unique), about 1/3 of patients have mild lower respiratory symptoms and need 1-5L NC [1-5 liters of oxygen per minute, via nasal cannula]. 1/3 are sicker, need face mask or non-rebreather. 1/3 are intubated with ARDS [acute respiratory distress syndrome].

Thus far, everyone is seeing:

normal WBC [white blood cell] count. Almost always lymphopenic, occasionally poly [neutrophil]-predominant but with normal total WBC count. Doesn’t change, even 10 days in.

Bronchoalveolar lavage: lymphocytic despite blood being lymphopenic. (Try not to bronch these patients; this data is from pre-testing time when we had several idiopathic ARDS cases)

Fevers, often high, may be intermittent; persistently febrile, often for >10 days. It isn’t the dexmed, it’s the SARS2.

Low procalcitonin; may be useful to check initially for later trending if you are concerned later for VAP [ventilator-associated pneumonia], etc.

Elevated AST/ALT, sometimes alkaline phosphatase. Usually in 70-100 range. No fulminant hepatitis. Notably, in our small sample, higher transaminitis [elevated AST/ALT] (150-200) on admission correlates with clinical deterioration and progression to ARDS. LFTs [liver function tests] typically begin to bump in 2nd week of clinical course.

Mild AKI [acute kidney injury] (creatinine <2). Uncertain if direct viral effect, but notably SARS2 RNA fragments have been identified in liver, kidneys, heart, and blood.</li>

Characteristic chest x-ray: always bilateral patchy or reticular infiltrates, sometimes peri-hilar despite normal ejection fraction and volume down at presentation. At time of presentation may be subtle, but always present, even in our patients on chronic high dose steroids. NO effusions.

CT is as expected, rarely mild mediastinal lymphadenopathy, occasional small effusions late in course, which might be related to volume status/cap leak.

Note - China is CT'ing everyone, even outpatients, as a primarily diagnostic modality. However, in US/Europe, CT is rare, since findings are nonspecific, would not change management, and the ENTIRE scanner and room have to be terminal-cleaned, which is just impossible in a busy hospital. Also, transport in PAPRs, etc.

2 of our patients had CTs for idiopathic ARDS in the pre-test era; they looked like the CTs in the journal articles. Not more helpful than chest x-ray.

When respiratory failure occurs, it is RAPID (likely 7-10 days out from symptom onset, but rapid progression from hospital admission). Common scenario for our patients is: admit on 1L/min oxygen via nasal cannula. Next 12 hrs escalate to NPPV [non-invasive positive pressure ventilation]. Next 12-24 hrs → vent/proned/Flolan.

Interestingly, despite some needing Flolan, the hypoxia is not as refractory as with H1N1. Quite different, and quite unique. Odd enough that you’d notice and say hmmm.

Thus far many are dying of cardiac arrest rather than inability to ventilate/oxygenate.

Given the inevitable rapid progression to ETT [endotracheal tube, aka intubation] once respiratory decompensation begins, we and other hospitals, including Wuhan, are doing early intubation. Face mask is fine, but if patients are needing HFNC [high-flow nasal cannula] or NPPV [non-invasive positive pressure ventilation], just tube them. They definitely will need a tube anyway, and no point risking the aerosols.

No MOSF [multi-organ system failure]. There’s the mild AST/ALT elevation, maybe a small creatinine bump, but no florid failure. Exception is cardiomyopathy.

Multiple patients here have had normal EF [ejection fraction] on formal Echo or POCUS [point-of-care ultrasound] at time of admission (or in a couple of cases, EF 40ish, chronically). Also normal troponins from emergency department. Then they get the horrible respiratory failure, sans sepsis or shock. Then they turn the corner, come off Flolan, supined, vent weaning, looking good, never any pressor requirement. Then over 12 hrs, newly cold, clamped, multiple-pressor shock that looks cardiogenic, EF 10% or less. Then either VT [ventricular tachycardia, aka V-tach] → VF [ventricular fibrillation, aka V-fib] → dead, or PEA [pulseless electrical activity] → asystole in less than a day. Needless to say, this is awful for families who had started to have hope.

We have actually had more asystole than VT. Other facilities report more VT/VF, but same time course, a few days or a week after admission, around the time they’re turning the corner. This occurs on med-surg patients too. One today, who is elderly and chronically ill but with baseline EF preserved, became newly hypotensive overnight, EF <10. Already no escalation, has since passed. So presumably there is a viral cardiomyopathy aspect, which presents later in the course of disease.

Of note, no wall motion abnormalities on Echo, right ventricular function preserved, troponins don’t bump. Could be unrelated, but I’ve never seen anything like it before, especially in a patient who had been hemodynamically stable without sepsis.

TREATMENT:

Remdesivir might work, some hospitals have seen improvement with it quite rapidly, marked improvement in 1-3 days. ARDS trajectory is impressive with it, patients improve much more rapidly than expected in usual ARDS.

Recommended course is 10 days, but due to scarcity, all hospitals have stopped it when the patient is clinically out of the woods. None have continued >5 days. It might cause LFT bump, but interestingly seem to bump (200s-ish) for a day or 2 after starting, then rapidly back to normal, suggests this is not a primary toxic hepatitis.

Unfortunately, the Gilead compassionate use and trial programs require AST/ALT <5x normal, which is pretty much almost no actual COVID patients. Also CrCl [creatinine clearance] >30, which is fine. CDC is working with Gilead to get LFT requirements changed now that we know this is a mild viral hepatitis.

Currently the Gilead trial is wrapping up, NIH trial still enrolling, some new trial soon to begin, can’t remember where.

Steroids are up in the air. In China, usual clinical practice for all ARDS is high dose methylprednisolone. Thus, ALL of their patients have had high dose methylprednisolone. Some question whether this practice increases mortality.

It is likely that it increases secondary VAP/HAP [ventilator-associated pneumonia/hospital-acquired pneumonia]. China has had a high rate of drug-resistant GNR [Gram-negative rod] HAP/VAP and fungal pneumonia in these patients, with resulting increases in mortality. We have seen none, even in the earlier patients who were vented for >10 days before being bronch’ed (prior to test availability. Again, it is not a great idea to bronch these patients now).

Unclear whether VAP-prevention strategies are also different [in China vs US], but wouldn’t think so?

Hong Kong is currently running an uncontrolled trial of HC 100IV Q8 [hydrocortisone 100 mg IV every 8 hours].

General consensus here (in US among doctors who have cared for COVID patients) is that steroids will do more harm than good, unless needed for other indications.

Many of our patients have COPD on ICS [inhaled corticosteroids]. Current consensus at Evergreen, after some observation & some clinical judgment, is to stop ICS if able, based on known data with other viral pneumonias and increased susceptibility to HAP. Thus far patients are tolerating that, no major issues with ventilating them that can’t be managed with vent changes. We also have quite a few on AE-COPD [acute exacerbation of COPD]/asthma doses of methylprednisolone, so will be interesting to see how they do.

#medblr #covid-19 #long post

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ebachan · 6 years ago

Text

Sonic’s Movie is Good

Okay, I have heard quite a few ridiculous claims Sonic’s Movie will suck despite the redesign. That is quite a claim with nothing to back it up. Or almost nothing.

Not much is known about the plot, but before we move to it, let’s remind ourselves what each Sonic game was about.

Games:

Sonic 1

Sonic 2

Sonic 3

Sonic 3 & Knuckles

Sonic A1

Sonic A2

Shadow the Hedgehog

Sonic Colors

Sonic Generations

Sonic Forces

Sonic and Black Knight

Sonic ...

Uuuuf... Let me catch my breath first, I’m not that fast as Sonic ;-)

So, here we have a small sample I cooked up at the spot. So, what is the plot? It can be summarized in four words - Save the world/stop Eggman

Okay, theoretically it’s five... But, my point still stands.

So, people kind of complaint Sonic’s Movie is about him saving the world = simple/primitive even. (Do I get it right?) If “saving the world”-trope/plot is lame, I guess LOTR or Star Wards are lame too. After all, they are “just” about saving the world as well.

Now, please notice the sarcasm. I use it when dealing with close-minded humans. Thank you for understanding. My point is - every story has a theme. Being it save the world, go on an adventure, or solve a mystery. I have somewhere read an article about Seven Main Plot Lines in Books (Maybe it was more of them ^_^;). Each book, no matter how awesome it is, can be categorized in one of those “cliché plots”.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t make them bad or boring. Do you go and read a book to know how it ends? Yes, some books have shocking ends you don’t expect. With some, you know how it will end - hero will beat the baddie and lives happily ever after.

Well, how about the journey in the middle? Isn’t it the most exciting part of the story? It sure is. It can have anything - humor, action, adventure, mystery, romance, angst, twists, character’s growth, world building. The list can go on. The end is just a cherry at the top, it’s the middle part that sucks us in.

In other worlds - Stop judging Sonic’s Movie based on the premise. It’s stupid.

What do we know for sure:

Sonic is an alien.

Different planet, but in one universe

Or different dimension means two different universes like in games.

Government is after Sonic

You telling me this is stupid? I would be knocking on my forehead if no military was involved when Sonic appears, especially after the shockwave knocked out half of the continent. You can’t ignore him. This part reminds me of Season 1 of Sonic X when Sonic was chased by humans to find out how he ticks.

Also, this has E.T. vibes, and nobody says the premise of a human kid helping a lost alien to escape from the government to return home is stupid ;-)

In other words, Sonic is a too big deal to be ignored by the military. They have to take action.

Pair up Sonic and Tom

No problem here. We often see two unlikely individuals joining forces to beat bigger baddies. It provides nice dynamics and often helps both parties to see the world from a new perspective.

Game inspiration

There seems to be still the confusion about what type of story Sonic’s Movie tells. I think it was even officially stated, that this movie is a prequel to Sonic 1 and partly Sonic 1 too. So kinda like Sonic 0.5.

It tells how Eggman/Robotnik and Sonic became enemies. The game never explained this, nor why Eggman wants to conquer the world. At least that Amusement Park of Death is an original tidbit :-D So, in a way we can get some answers or the alternative way how to look at their frenemies relationship from games.

We can also get more about how the Two Worlds (Mobius, Earth) are connected. For me, I still can’t wrap my head around it. It kinda feels they made it up to cover some plot holes, but whatever. The idea itself is interesting.

It has a lot of Easter Eggs but introduces Sonic to kids

There was a test screening during January/February and here is the comment from that person (found on Reddit).

The movie aims to bring a new origin story for Sonic and Robotnik. Its main goal is to introduce children to Sonic the Hedgehog as a character, but at the same time throw references and pay homages to details from the original game series for the longtime fans. It aims for a PG Rating.

He gave the movie a 7/10 grade. “It’s geared towards new fans with respect for the older peeps. Just go into it knowing that new kids will fall in love like we all did at one point.”

About how the movie was like, he said that “ Id say it is more TMNT with reference to story and action balance. It’s a solid mix between engaging action which continues to develop the bromance between sonic and Tom.”

“Its definitely being targeted towards youth demo. It seems their goal is to intro sonic to the next Gen of fans. More so with access to their parent's wallets for the spin-off merch and happy meal toys. I enjoyed it similar to seeing transformers. Don’t expect the green mile storytelling but turn your brain off and just enjoy for what it is, The cast does a great job” Robotnik is only called by the Robotnik name in the movie, no mention of the Eggman name at all.

It's about 90 minutes long

“ It’s a good balance between giving the old fans something but introducing him to kids. I went in not knowing it was gonna be screened or any expectations. Cheesy but enjoyed it from start to finish. Jim Carrey kills the role.”

“ Action scenes were great in storytelling and execution wise. Effects weren’t complete so a lot of it was still early CGI and the hidden actors playing sonic. At one point he was just a blue doll on the counter lol”

The post contains some “plot” for the movie, so I won’t post more. I actually skipped once I noticed this ;-)

I don't know how you, but I’m going to watch this movie no matter what!

@movie-sonic-positivity @movie-robotnik-positivity

#sonic movie #sonic movie 2019 #sonic movie positivity #sonic movie 2020 #movie sonic #sonic the hedgehog #dr. eggman #dr. robotnik #jim carrey

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damnitaddie · 5 years ago

Text

In The Streets

“All the street lights, glowing, happen to be Just like moments, passing, in front of me So I hopped in the cab and I paid my fare See I know my destination, but I’m just not there…”

It’s been so long since I’ve updated this site that I don’t even know what to say, looks like the last time I updated the site was in late March. In that time, I’ve changed jobs, I changed schools, and things are happening.

After leaving AT&T and drifting aimlessly for a while, I got hired at Spectrum. At first, I treated Spectrum like a bullshit job that I didn’t care about. I think it was mostly because of the entry pay. But after a decent raise and then a shift differential, I had found a place that I wanted to stay until I graduated from nursing school. However, they changed my schedule to a point where going to school during the day wasn’t going to be feasible.

At the same time that they announced the scheduling changes for the whole center, I had just completed my healthcare basics coursework, lab time, and clinical rotations. I sat for the written and skills test and earned my CNA, or as Kentucky calls it – State Registered Nurse Aide.

With that in mind, it seemed like a sign that if nursing was my focus and I wanted to be about that life, there was no better time than the present to jump in head first. Don’t talk about it, be about it. So I started applying. I went to an open interview event at Norton Healthcare and sat down with a nurse manager. I went on to have an interview at Audubon Hospital and then another at Norton Hospital. I had also applied at Jewish and Kindred. I accepted an interview at Jewish and was offered the job the next day. I accepted and proceeded to do the onboarding requirements. Before orientation could begin, I got a call back from Norton offering me a job at the downtown hospital. Because it had been my goal to work at Norton, I accepted this job and backed out of the position at Jewish with as much poise and grace as possible.

During this same time period, I ran afoul of the chair of the nursing program at JCTC, after calling out the school on Twitter. An issue had arisen when our teacher allowed people to leave early. Because the course had federal requirements for logged hours, this was a big no-no. On this fateful night, my teacher’s boss walked in at 7:30 pm. I was there, along with two other students, but the other 20 or so students were long gone. So, they forced all of us to make up those hours. Even the three of us who were still there.

It was implied that I had broken the school’s social media policy. However, when I asked what section of the policy, knowing full well that the policy only applied to staff and faculty, they pivoted to possibly not accepting me into the ADN program due to my posts. In my mind, they’d already decided not to accept me, so I told them there were plenty of nursing schools in this town and someone would take my money.

And so, that’s the story of how I ended up at Galen, basically a year further away from graduating than I would have been if I’d just started there from the beginning. But it’s been good. I think it’s a good, albeit expensive, program and the degree carries name recognition for being a quality school.

Since starting at Norton as a PCA — Patient Care Associate — I’ve learned a ton of things and I feel like I’m already ahead of many of my classmates, many of them who are decades younger and have never worked in healthcare. In only a couple months, I know how to do things that they may not learn for months or even years. In January, we’ll begin our clinical rotations for school, doing hands-on work, most likely in long-term care facilities or nursing homes.

At the same time, I’ll be shifting gears at Norton, hanging up my grey scrubs for green, as a Nurse Apprentice, having been accepted into SNAP, which is the Student Nurse Apprenticeship Program. The first federally recognized program of it’s type, it gives me the ability to continue to build my clinical skills, often working nearly at scope along side a registered nurse. Being already familiar with Norton’s Systems, policies, and operating standards, I’m excited to be able to do more hands-on work than I’m legally allowed to do currently. My participation will run parallel to school, wrapping up at graduation time, just in time to take the NCLEX.

School and work has become my personality, largely because I have time for nothing else. I think everyone gets this false impression that because I “only” work 3 days a week that I’ve got so much time, but I’m working 12 hour shifts, from 7pm to 7am, and then often going straight to campus. On days when I don’t work and don’t have school, I often sleep 12-18 hours just trying to get back to baseline.

I say all this as a way of getting to the point, I’ve been missing everything. Family events, my kid’s sporting events, spending time with my girlfriend, and generally being a living breathing human being. If you ask me when we’re going to hang out, I’m likely to reply, “When you show up at the hospital, at Galen, or in my bedroom.”

Beyond all that, nothing else has changed. I wish I could say that I was becoming a better version of myself, less obsessed, more focused on the future than the past, and all that — but I don’t want to lie to you. I’m still carrying all my torches and they’re lit like the beacons of Minas Tirith.

In June, in the gap between Spectrum and Norton, Nicole and I took a trip to Washington D.C. for an event put on by American Nurses Association to lobby legislators on Capitol Hill. I had never been to the district and it was a fairly exciting proposition. There was a certain level of anxiety in it though, as Laurel lives in the area. I didn’t have any intention of seeking her out or really making contact with her, but she remains in my thoughts even now.

Nicole, knowing my feelings and being Nicole, had tried to contact Laurel a couple times. These were ostensibly friendly and Nicole’s way of letting Laurel know I still had feelings for her. I’ll never know what actually happened there, because neither party would share the contents of those interactions, but suffice to say, they were received poorly by Laurel. Never the less, Nicole was adamant that I needed to see her while we were in town. I was vehemently opposed to this idea and we debated it through most of West and Non-West Virginia.

No matter my protests, we ended up at the bar where Laurel spends most of her time that night. Earlier in the day, she had posted on Facebook a sort of open invitation to area trans folk to come out for drinks. As we, at the time, were Facebook friends — I would assume this would apply to me. This ties into the concept of assumptions. And, if we’re being honest, I knew there was a 90% chance she’d not want to see me.

So, there we are, standing on the sidewalk out front. I can actually see Laurel through the windows and I start to hyperventilate, replete with tachycardia. A full fledged anxiety attack. I plead with Nicole to leave, like let’s not do this, this is going to end poorly, etc, etc, etc. She declines.

We end up going into the upstairs portion of the bar and we have a few drinks. With a bit of liquid courage and social lubrication flowing, I send Laurel a message telling her that I’m upstairs, asking if she’d like to come up and say hi. This way I don’t crash her gathering, and she can save face in front of her friends.

So we wait, and we wait, and wait some more. Drinking more and more as we go, having befriended the bartender. A nice guy that had moved from Texas to D.C., a previous EMS technician and Army medic. Nicole and him both had the same role and rank in the military. We chatted about this and that, until finally I had waited long enough and was going to be so bold as to venture downstairs. I’ll never forget what happened next, because in 39 years on this rock, I’ve never seen someone react so poorly to seeing me. Not even the transphobe at AT&T who turned on her heel out of the women’s room having seen me…

At the bottom of the steps, I came around the corner and basically ran right into Laurel. We were maybe three feet apart. The closest we’d been since she drove away from our home in April of 2017. You always hear that trope about the blood running out of someone’s face, but I’d never seen it in reality, until now. Paler than pale. So white she was nearly transparent.

We have just lost cabin pressure.

The whole exchange lasted less than two minutes. Aside from asking me what I was doing there, she really couldn’t seem to get words past her teeth. Which, if you’ve met Laurel, you’d know is a pretty impressive feat. I finally said that I would make it easy and just go.

I spent the rest of the night and the trip in a state wavering between sadness and disbelief. I wasn’t shocked and if anything, I expected worse. I knew that there was nothing there, that the well had run dry long ago, but I still had to lean over the edge and peer into the void. By morning, she had blocked me on every social media platform.

In the afternoon, her bestie was messaging me accusing me of ill intent that I didn’t have. I told her basically that I could put my feelings in a bottle on a shelf, but they never seem to stay there for long. Even now, five months later, I’m still thinking about that fateful night. Running it through my head, replaying the horrible look she gave me. Of course, with Thanksgiving upon us, the memory of my mistakes weigh upon me heavily.

I’m working on erasing you, I just don’t have the proper tools. I get hammered, forget that you exist There’s no way that I’m forgetting this.

You’re the shit and I’m knee-deep in it.

Other than that, everything is great!

In The Streets was originally published on TransVentures

#depression #love #transventures #work

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 6 years ago

Text

Stay Ch. 13

Master List

Pairing: Natasha X Reader (Female)

Summary: You have a gift, the ability to see other people’s innermost secrets. For years you used it to gather intel for the highest bidder when you take on The Widow. After she becomes more than a mark the two of you spend years stealing moments. Post snap you wait in your designated meeting place, look back on the sordid past you share with the woman you love and hope against everything that she’s still alive.

Warnings: Angst, light violence.

A/N: I have been SO excited to share this with y’all. I straight up almost posted it earlier in the week because to me this is when their story really shifts and just so much is coming.

I hope y’all enjoy!

Tags are open!

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @5aftermidnight @jeromethepsycho @marvel-randomness @daniellajocelyn @katecolleen @yanginginthere @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @lesbian-girls-wayhaught @siriuslycloudy2

- Post Snap -

The sound of that hotel door in New Orleans reverberates in your ears even here in the present. You sit in the windowsill, thankful this place still had windows that could be opened, and puff perfect smoke rings into the cool night air.

Old regrets bubble up. Maybe if you had been able to swallow your pride, work things out then and there, you’d be in a much different place now. Maybe she’d be here in your arms and not out somewhere in this burning world… Maybe, maybe, maybe.

It would be easy to drive yourself crazy thinking about all the may have beens that have piled up over the years. Regret got you nothing, you remember telling your team that. No point in mourning the past, but here you were. Hypocrite.

Regardless, you didn’t make it to January.

- November 2006 -

After a month or so it hurt less. You knew she was out there doing what she needed to and you were making money like a fucking mad woman.

Admittedly not being with her may have been soothed by the revolving door your bed had become. So what? You were having a good time, had the cash to burn, why not spend it on beautiful women and good booze?

It had been a particularly wild couple of weeks. The job you just wrapped put you smack in the middle of Amsterdam’s Red Light district and… well… you weren’t sad about it. If more jobs were likes this one, you’d go to hell with a smile on your face and damn good stories to tell the devil.

The night before you leave you wake up panicked. A dream so fucking real you were confused when consciousness came barreling into you. Practically pushing the two women off your bed you stumble to your duffle for your phone, hands shaking.

You hadn’t checked the voicemail. It wasn’t the first time you’d forgotten for more than a few days. Nothing was ever there. For some reason that dream… Natasha running, scared, panicked… you could feel it in your bones.

The women ask what’s going on and you tell them to shut up as you dial the codes with trembling fingers.

“Palais.” Natasha’s voice was trembling, breathless, scared. Left over a week ago. Panic pulses out of every pore on your body. The phone slides from your grasp and you hit your knees.

“What’s happening?!” You hear one of the women scream.

It’s all so far away. The other starts to sob, thick choking sobs. Both on the brink of full-fledged panic attacks. While you... are strangely calm, feeling your emotions and yet… not. Turning to them you stare in shock.

Somehow you know you’ve done this. How you don’t fully understand. But they’re trapped in your emotions, their confusion making them all the more terrified. You can’t blame them. You also can’t fucking care.

“Get out,” you growl at them both.

“But… what’s…”

“Get. Out.” Quickly they slip into their clothes and run out, still scared out of their minds.

Within the hour you’re out of the hotel and on your way to the airport. Any other time you’d drive, easier to stay off the radar but it was 11 hours and you couldn’t wait that long. You book the first flight out.

Five hours later you’re tearing into the doors of the hotel, the strange sense of deja vu hitting you hard.

It’s early but you know if she was here she would be in the bar. Still you check with the front desk for Nancy Rustin, your agreed name for her to use, nothing. You feel that same panic rise in you like it did in Amsterdam and you bring it in. A hotel lobby freaking like the women had would be newsworthy and not something you had the time for.

You slam back a whiskey neat at the bar and another, the warmth calming your nerves just a little bit. The third one you sip trying to figure out what to do.

If she was… no. You refuse to believe that, can’t allow yourself to go down that road. Instead, you start to plan just what strings you need to pull to figure out where the fuck she was. Whoever had her wouldn’t be standing for long, because you’d burn the world to get her back… You had to… had to tell her you loved her… Why hadn’t you just said it when she left in New Orleans? Now…

A man slides onto the stool next to you and you bristle. There’s a whole open bar and he just had to sit beside you. You’re about to let him have it when he orders a vodka neat. It’s a normal enough order but it packs salt into the wound nonetheless, sucking the words from you.

From your peripheral you see him take a sip and look at you. An emotion rolls off him. Apprehension? Disapproval? Curiosity?

“Palais,” he says matter of factly.

Your heartbeat kicks up but you remain facing forward. After taking a sip of your drink you respond, “Very good, you know where ya are. Want a fuckin’ gold star?” You aren’t sure why you let your natural accent show but you do.

He snorts, “She said you had a mouth.”

You slide a sidelong venomous glare to him, “Who?” It’s practically a hiss. You’re already formulating ways to kill this man right here.

“We have a mutual friend?”

“I don’t have friends.”

“No?” He sips his drink, obviously not enjoying the taste. “How about someone who’s more than that?” You say nothing.

Reaching into your pocket you pull out a few bills, grab your bag and walk out of the hotel. The man hot on your heels. You turn down an alley and as soon as he’s close enough you pull your gun. His hands are up a smirk on his face.

“Hey, let’s take a second here,” he’s not projecting any kind of fear. Actually, he’s almost too calm.

“You have exactly five to tell me where the fuck she is before I blow that smile off your face.”

“She’s safe.”

“Not good enough. Three.”

“If I was lying you could tell, right? So why don’t you work your magic trick before shooting me.” He lowers to his knees, “I’m trying to help. Just… look.”

Cautiously you approach him, gun still drawn. Going behind him you press the barrel to his temple with your right and press your left to the other side of his head. Not enough to harm, just to pull information. Focusing on one thing, her.

Natasha, looking tired but smiling fills your mind. “Y/N, I’m ok, I swear I’m ok baby. You can trust Clint. He’ll bring you to me. I’m telling him this so you’ll believe him. Oh, and when you’re done say the word pineapple, he doesn’t believe you can do what I said. I love you.”

You release him and lower your gun, tears stinging in the back of your eyes. Nothing but honesty and determination radiates from him. He’s legit.

“Fuck,” he rubs his temples, “that really does suck.”

“Pineapple,” you say barely audible.

“Huh?” He looks at you, “Sorry, shot hearing.” Now you notice the barely visible high tech hearing aids in his ears.

“Pineapple.”

A smile fills his face, “Jesus Christ. That’s pretty damn cool.” He stands slowly extending his hand, “Clint.” You take it and get a flash of a rural house, countryside, a brunette woman with kind eyes, arrows. This man is like an open book.

“Y/N.”

“Good to meet you.” His hands are calloused and you get the distinct feeling that he’s military of some sort. “I realize it’s asking a lot to-”

“I’ll go where ever you want.”

“Oh. I had a whole speech prepared and everything. Didn’t think you’d make this easy.” He shrugs, “Well come on then.”

On cue, a black nondescript sedan pulls up and he opens the back passenger door, you can see the barrier between the front and back seats, no handles on the interior of the doors. Fuck.

“Nothing personal just can’t be too careful,” he says, a weak smile on his face. It doesn’t matter. He knows where she is, you’ll play along for now.

Your voice is soft and sweet as you toss your bag ahead of you into the back seat, “Understandable.” If she told him you can read people she likely also told him about some of the other tricks up your sleeve.

“Oh, and Clint,” he turns to you releasing the door.

You slide his feet from under him sending him to the ground. Pinning him you press your right hand to his forehead, his eyes wide with panic. Good, she did tell him. There's the sound of feet as the driver rushes up behind you but he signals for them to stand down.

Leaning down you hiss in his ear, “If she’s not alright, I’ll burn your little farmhouse to the fuckin’ ground with that pretty brunette inside. We clear?”

“Crystal,” Clint growls out. He’s like a fortress now, actively fighting to shut you out.

“Excellent,” you stand smiling big and extend your hand to him. Suspiciously he eyes you before taking your hand and pulling himself up.

You push past the visibly confused woman who’s gun hangs limply in her hand. “Let’s get goin’ then.” As soon as you’re in the back seat she slams the door.

Admittedly you didn’t expect to be driving this long but 3 hours later you’re desperate for a pit stop. Two whiskeys plus the gallon of coffee on the flight meant you had to pee. Now.

“Can y’all even hear me up there?” The barrier was clear, maybe bullet-resistant glass of some kind, and you hadn’t heard anything from the front the whole time.

“Yes.” The woman’s tone is clipped.

“Good. How much longer we gonna be on this joy ride?”

“Another hour at least,” Clint responds. You note that the driver glares at him as if she didn’t approve of him answering you.

“Ah, well, any chance for a pit stop before then?”

“No.”/“Yes.” The driver and Clint respond at the same time.

“We are not stopping,” the woman sounds like she’s about to throttle Clint.

“That’s fine,” you say and watch her shoulders relax. “As long as you’re not the one having to clean up later.” She catches your smirk in the rearview and woo, if looks could kill.

Violently the car jerks to the side of the road and you slam into the driver’s side door. “What the hell?”

She gets out and flings the door open, “Should have worn a seat belt.” There’s the whisper of a grin on her face as you rub your left arm. “Neither of us have to go. There’s the woods.” The look on her face isn’t quite smug but it’s almost there.

You laugh, “Girl, you barkin’ up the wrong tree if you think my country ass is too prim to piss in the woods.” Quickly you stride toward the trees.

“Agent,” she says, voice low and you freeze. “Agent Hill. I’m not your girl.” Slowly you turn back to her. “And I suggest you don’t run, Oracle.” Your blood runs cold.

“Am I under arrest agent?”

“Not exactly.”

“Hmm.” You weigh your options. If they could just get you to Natasha as was promised you figured you both had a good chance of slipping them. If you ran… well if they had her and who knows what they may do…

“Well, if you’re done posturing, Agent Hill. I have some private business to attend to. Unless you’re wanting to accompany me, I’ll be back in a minute.” You turn back toward the woods and she doesn’t follow.

Once you’re done, you walk a few paces further into the trees and lean against a trunk for a minute thinking. Agent Hill didn’t specify exactly who she was an agent for. She’s clearly American unless it’s a ruse. But given that Clint is most definitely American you’re going to bet it’s not. Sure they could be with any number of U.S. agencies but your gut is telling you just who this is. If you’re right… this is very bad.

You stride back to the car, “So, Agent,” you practically spit the word, “we headin’ to some kind of S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house in Europe or are you toting me back to the good ol’ U.S.A.?” Her brows lift just a touch in surprise but otherwise, she appears unfazed. “Guess it’ll be a surprise then,” you say as you get back in the car.

Almost two hours later you pull into what seems to be an old abandoned airport. Clint opens your door.

“The states it is,” you quip looking over at Agent Hill. She says nothing and begins striding to a hangar. You grab your bag and follow Clint.

Before getting on the jet Agent Hill turns to you, “I’ll need all weapons you have on your person, Oracle.” You stare at her for a minute, curious if she will try to physically remove them if you don’t comply.

“You can give them over freely or spend the flight in shackles. Your choice.”

Giving her a slight smile you begin to disarm. Weapons were good and all but you didn’t need them to be a threat. The way Clint looks at you shows he knows this but she doesn’t. Interesting.

Not moving toward her you hold out your knives and gun, “Here.” She rolls her eyes but takes the bait coming to grab them. Your fingers just graze hers.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Maria.” The look she flashes you is murderous. You smile smugly as Clint restrains a small laugh. It never got old using something so simple as their own name to throw people. “Suits you though.” Unfortunately, she’s too good to take your bait this time and simply turns practically storming into the jet.

“Hill didn’t believe it either. What Nat said you could do,” Clint says standing bravely next to a woman that threatened him five hours ago. You bristle a bit at his casual mention of Natasha.

“Good. The less people who believe in it the better off I am,” he nods in agreement and leads the way to the jet.

You’ve never been on something so advanced. Despite yourself, you’re a little in awe. You stand in the middle of it all gawking.

“Sit,” Hill barks pointing to a bucket seat near the back. “Buckle up if you want I don’t care either way. And if you hurl it’s your mess to clean up. Got it?”

You sit down and lounge like a cat looking up at her, “Got it, Maria.”

“Agent. Hill,” she spits.

A chuckle slips from you at her reaction, “You don’t like me much do you, Agent?”

“No,” with that she heads to the pilot seat.

A few minutes later you feel the jet start to roll forward. The takeoff is so abrupt you do feel more than a little nauseous but you keep it down, not willing to give in. Once it’s passed your mind focuses on what the hell you’re walking into.

Whatever it was if she was there… it would be worth it.

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #clint barton #agent hill #wlw

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imnotinclinedtomaturity · 6 years ago

Text

Love Yourself (Chapter 30)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 7.6k story words: 240k (so far) chapter: 30/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut, some depression genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: thanks to my one true love @auroraphilealis giving up whatever she was doing tonight to beta, even though she had a headache and unlimited lives on her fave mobile game of the moment xx

Dan woke up early, groggy from jetlag. The hotel room was shrouded in dark shadows, and in his sleepy state, he couldn’t tell if it was from the thick curtains or if it was still dark outside. Whichever it was, it really made him not want to move — well, that and the warm weight of Phil’s arm wrapped around his waist and the soft, rhythmic tickle of Phil’s breath against the back of Dan’s neck. Sometime during the night, they’d shifted from their original position of Dan’s head on Phil’s chest. They hadn’t drifted far from each other, though. Somehow, they’d ended up spooning, and Dan secretly loved that even in their sleep, they’d wanted to stay close together.

But despite the serenity, worry nagged at the back of Dan’s mind, and he found himself itching to check his phone. He’d spent the majority of the plane ride ruminating about Isabella’s interview, his mind spiraling and dreaming up worst case scenarios. During the one hour of the flight he’d managed to sleep, he’d dreamed that Isabella had told everyone he’d cheated on her with Phil.

Luckily, last night he’d slept peacefully — he couldn’t imagine trying to film an interview in front of a live audience on a fitful night’s sleep. Dan suspected that Phil had something to do with why he’d slept so well, but now didn’t seem like the time to explore that thought.

Careful not to disturb Phil, Dan stretched forward to swipe his phone off the bedside table. He clicked it on, and was surprised to find that it was only half past seven — his alarm wasn’t due to go off for another half hour. Less surprising was the fact that there were already two text messages from Louise; it was five hours later there after all.

The messages had only come in an hour ago.

There was little doubt in Dan’s mind that the messages had something to do with Isabella’s interview, because Louise would have waited until a more reasonable time to text about anything else. Wiggling further back into Phil’s embrace, Dan took a deep breath and opened them.

Louise [6:28AM]: Tatler has already posted about the interview. They must have wanted to get it out fast, because it’s pretty much just a transcript, not a proper article. I’m going to read it now.

Louise [6:37AM]: You’re going to hate it. Honestly, it’s not that bad, there’s nothing so damning that you can’t fix it. But… you won’t like it :( Here’s the link: www.tatler.uk/18572650

“Fuck,” Dan muttered, apparently a little too loudly. Behind him, Phil stirred; his leg shifted, wrapping fully around Dan’s, and Phil pulled him in closer.

“What time’s it?” Phil asked, his voice deep and scratchy with sleep.

“Half seven,” Dan answered shortly.

“What’re you doin’ up?” Phil slurred. His hand dipped just inside the hem of Dan’s pyjama pants, his thumb stroking Dan’s bare hipbone. On any other morning, Dan was certain that this would be pleasant — peaceful even. But this morning, Dan’s mind couldn’t detach from the real world enough to enjoy the touch.

“Louise texted. The interview is up.” Even to his own ears, Dan’s voice sounded flat. Flat and tight.

The news seemed to affect Phil just as much as it had Dan. The gentle caress of Dan’s hip stopped abruptly, Phil’s hand gripping his waist tightly instead.

“How bad?” Phil asked warily.

Dan tipped his head slightly so that he could at least sort of see Phil. “Dunno yet. I haven’t read it. Louise said I wouldn’t like it, but it, and I quote, isn’t too bad and there’s nothing too damning.”

“That’s… contradictory.” Phil’s brows were furrowed; he looked just as confused as Dan felt.

“Fucking tell me about it,” Dan grumbled. Louise had never been one to sugar coat news about publicity, so he objectively knew this couldn’t be that horrific. But still, the fact that his best friend knew he’d hate what Isabella had to say… He had a feeling that meant that Izzy had probably gone for the jugular.

“Well,” Phil said with a sigh. “Should we read it?”

“Unfortunately,” Dan huffed. One hand dropped from his phone, reaching instead for Phil’s arm that was wrapped around his waist. Slowly, Dan slithered his hand down until his fingers linked with Phil’s. Looking over his shoulder, Dan’s eyes flickered back and forth between Phil’s. “Together?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course,” Phil agreed, leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to Dan’s forehead.

“Alright, here goes nothing.” With a sigh, Dan rolled back onto his side, and clicked the link Louise had sent. He felt Phil raise up on his elbow, his head hooking around Dan’s shoulder so he could read too. The page loaded, and Dan dove into reading, knowing that if he procrastinated at all, his anxiety might stop him from ever being able to read it.

—

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly of Love with Daniel Howell

This morning, I sat down with one of Tatler’s favorite models, Isabella De La Renta, to talk about her recent split from singer Daniel Howell (see here, here, and here for our past coverage of the shocking break up). For those curious, Isabella ordered a green tea (maybe inspired by her recent trip to China; see here for more details) and a yogurt parfait (no granola because she doesn’t eat carbs to maintain her perfect figure!). Isabella dished on everything from Dan’s shocking announcement about his sexuality (see his instagram post here) to how their relationship was going before their split.

You and Dan dated for a long time —

IDLR: Almost a year!

What’s life like now that you’re broken up?

IDLR: It’s been a hard adjustment. In so many ways, Dan was my best friend. It still feels weird to not be able to call him after a long day or to share good news.

I think it goes without saying that your breakup was a huge shock to your fans. Were you surprised?

IDLR: Yes and no. By the time we broke up, I knew it was the right thing to do, but if you asked me earlier this year, I never would have guessed. Just a few months ago, I went to Adalina’s birthday dinner — that’s Dan’s little sister — and his mum and I were talking about rings. His whole family was so welcoming and seemed really supportive of the idea of marriage.

Oh wow — rings. How did that come up?

IDLR: Dan’s mum was wearing a gorgeous diamond ring that he bought her for Christmas, and she made a point to tell me that. It was so clearly a sneaky way for him to get my opinion on what kind of rings I prefer. It was kind of sweet actually.

From ring talk to breaking up, that’s quite a change. You said that you knew breaking up was the right thing to do. Why was that?

For the first time since we sat down together, Isabella fell silent. Her eyes drifted out the window, and she was silent a long time. By the time she spoke again, her voice was choked up with tears and the model’s response was interrupted by delicate sniffles. It’s clear that this topic is still hard for her to talk about.

IDLR: We dated almost a year and, like I said, we were best friends. I thought I knew everything about Danny. And then in January, he told me he was attracted to guys, too. I really didn’t want it to affect our relationship, but I felt so betrayed that he’d kept such a big part of himself secret from me that it was hard to trust him anymore. In the end, I knew I couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t willing to be completely authentic with me.

Did you feel like he continued to be inauthentic with you after he came out to you?

IDLR: Yes, yes definitely. Dan assured me — just like he announced on his insta — that he’s bisexual. But after a year of dating him, and seeing how he is with a certain boy, I think maybe… maybe he’s not bisexual if you know what I mean.

Interesting. So what do you think that means about his relationship with you?

IDLR: Honestly, I feel really used. Before he told me about his sexuality, there were definitely moments where I felt like he was dating me for reasons he wasn’t letting on. But I never would have guessed it was a coverup for being gay.

I don't think any of us anticipated that! How did Dan handle the breakup?

IDLR: He really didn’t want to break up — he asked me several times to reconsider. I think he liked being able to show the world that he had a girlfriend, and ultimately, we did have a lot of fun together. Even if it did turn out to be not genuinely based on sex or romance.

Since you teased about it, will you tell us what the sex was like?

IDLR: Nosey nosey! For a while, it was good — maybe because it was new or him exploring or whatever. But that must have worn off or something. For the last few months, he wasn’t interested in it at all. He’d always find an excuse to get out of it, and the few times he didn’t… well, let’s just say it didn’t work and it wasn’t my fault. That was really hard to come to terms with and I felt so rejected.

That would be difficult for anyone to handle.

IDLR: I feel like it was extra hard for me because I’ve, like, never been rejected like that before. I grew up always being the pretty girl that everybody wanted, so to have Danny not want me in that way… Well, that’s when I knew for sure that he wasn’t bi, and realized our whole relationship was totally fake and I was just his… beard.

His beard — wow. That’s not something you hear much anymore.

IDLR: Maybe people are just better at keeping secrets now. Besides, it doesn’t take a genius to notice that I’m the only public relationship Dan’s had. Why else do you think that would be, if it wasn’t that all his lovers were men?

I asked Isabella if she had any final things to say about Daniel Howell, and she left us with this powerful message:

“Danny had me fooled for almost a year, and we were closer than I thought two people could be. Don’t hesitate to think that he might be fooling you too.” -IDLR.

—

“Fuck fuck fucking fuck!” Dan cursed. Every single word in the article was complete bullshit, but that quote at the end — that quote was the final fucking straw. How fucking dare Isabella twist the story like that, and then use her twisted, fucked up version of events to make everyone question everything he was going to say?

Adrenaline was coursing through Dan’s veins, and he couldn’t possibly stay still for another second. Dan chucked his phone towards the foot of the bed, not bothering to check if it landed safely — it was cracked anyway — and abruptly lunged out of Phil’s arm.

Pent up energy was eating at him, making him itch to move, so he began pacing their room. With vehement quickness, Dan marched up and down the small aisle between the foot of the bed and the dresser, pacing from the sofa to the bathroom and back, over and over and over.

“Fuck her, fuck her, that fucking cunt!” Dan spat, bringing one hand up to tug roughly at his tangled curls.

“Dan, I know you’re pissed off, but —” Phil started to say, but Dan wasn’t having any of it. He just barely glanced over, only fleetingly noting that Phil had pushed himself up to a sitting position and was now leaning forward like he wanted to say something.

“Pissed off?” Dan asked incredulously with a bitter laugh. Pissed off didn’t even begin to describe how Dan felt right now — he was downright livid, and he literally could not remember a single time where he’d been more upset than this. Not when his dad had sold his car without his permission, not when a group of obnoxious young fans had tried to harass Adaline for information, not when an unreleased, private song had accidentally been released to the public.

This — this was a whole new fucking level of anger, and there was only one way Dan knew how to cope with it.

Music.

He wanted everyone to know that Isabella was the one trying to fool the world, that Isabella was the one lying out of her ass. And what better way to do it than singing a song that practically screamed how fucked up Isabella’s behavior had been?

And if he sang it tonight, just hours after Isabella’s interview was released, people would know he’d written it beforehand — it would be at least one piece of evidence that would corroborate his version — the real version — of the story.

“That bitch isn’t getting away with this,” Dan muttered fiercely. His hands were clenched into tight fists at his side, his breaths coming in harsh huffs.

“Don’t do anything too rash, Dan,” Phil half-heartedly pleaded from the bed. The words knocked Dan out of his thoughts, and he froze mid-pace to spin around and face Phil.

“It’s not considered rash if I already planned on releasing the song at some point, right?” He raised his eyebrows pointedly.

Phil narrowed his gaze, though, eyeing Dan carefully. “I thought you said you only had one song you could perform without the backup band?”

Dan narrowed his eyes. He understood Phil’s rebuttal — Dan had told Phil that there was only one song he could play with just his guitar. My My My was Dan’s only acoustic song. But that didn’t mean it was the only song he could play without having his full backup band with him.

“Well, technically,” he admitted slowly. “But I do have another song — a perfect song — that’s basically ready. The band’s already recorded the instrumental parts, so I could just sing to that,” Dan suggested tentatively.

To Dan’s surprise, Phil pouted at the news. His bottom lip stuck out pitifully, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I thought my song was perfect?” he whined.

The anger that had been curling at Dan’s edges receded slightly, utter adoration for the man in front of him creeping into its place. Despite the urge to retaliate against Isabella’s accusations, Dan found his entire body, his entire demeanor, softening. Phil was so cute, and yet so petulant, that Dan couldn’t help melting. There was a happy glint in Phil’s eyes that was never there when Isabella had pouted at Dan, a spark that told Dan that this was different.

Before Dan could process his own actions, he was moving again, this time walking with purpose towards Phil and coming to a stop at the very edge of the bed.

Reaching out, Dan cupped Phil’s face in his palms, tilting his head up until their eyes met.

“Of course your song is perfect, Philly,” Dan reassured him with a soft smile. “But I wrote My My My, and the rest of your songs for that matter, when I was happy and giddy and in—” Dan paused, a hot flush rising to his cheeks. “Well. When I wasn’t in this kind of mood. And I’d rather the world didn’t hear any of them for the first time with this mood tainting it.”

For a moment, Phil just held Dan’s gaze. Dan raised his brows hopefully, almost pleading for Phil’s sad look to go away. But then Phil’s pouted melted, and a small smile replaced it instead. A part of Dan — a bigger part of him than he’d like to admit, really — was surprised at how quickly Phil’s pout had disappeared, even if the pout had only been joking in the first place. After a year with Isabella, Dan was used to fucking groveling if he wanted those sad looks to go away without sex.

“The rest of my songs?” Phil marveled, a hint of astonishment lacing his voice and a pink blush tainting his cheeks.

“Yes you loser, the rest of your songs.” Dan huffed, but not bothering to hide an enamoured grin.

“I didn’t know there was more than just the one,” Phil said softly, a note of awe in his voice.

“Did you even listen to the concept of the album?” Dan shook his head and rolled his eyes. Humor and fondness were seeping into his words no matter how hard he tried to sound serious; it didn’t matter that he’d been delirious with anger fifteen seconds ago, something about this boy managed to swing his mood to the polar opposite in the flicker of a second. “Wanting you, getting you… doesn’t that imply a bare minimum of two songs?” Dan teased, quirking an eyebrow and running one hand along the short, buzzcut side of Phil’s hair.

Isabella wasn’t right, he wasn’t gay, but he definitely reveled in how much of a boy Phil was.

“I mean,” Phil’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, his mouth pulling into a broad grin. Through his teeth, Phil’s tongue continued poking out of his mouth, and for once, his hand didn’t shoot up to hide it. “I guess I objectively figured that. But I didn’t, like… know. For sure, I mean.”

“You’re a dork, but I like you anyway,” Dan teased with a smirk.

Leaning down, Dan closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against Phil’s. The kiss was soft, almost chaste, at first, but the adrenaline that had been plaguing Dan must not have settled yet. The gentle kiss quickly grew heated, Dan’s mouth parting and his tongue darting out to lick along Phil’s bottom lip.

The soft whine Phil let out made Dan grin smugly.

“Before I call Lou about the song change, I need to shower and cool down,” Dan panted against Phil’s mouth after a moment, only drawing far enough back to mumble the words. Tipping his head forward, Dan captured Phil’s lips once more, playfully, sucking Phil’s bottom lip between his own, and letting his teeth graze along the sensitive skin just inside of Phil’s mouth. “Come with me?”

Hot staccatoed breaths fanned across Dan’s face as Phil chuckled, chasing Dan’s mouth to press a final, chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m pretty sure me showering with you will do the opposite of helping you cool down,” Phil teased.

“But Phi-illllll,” Dan whined, his voice several octaves higher than normal. Childish petulance seemed to take over Dan, and he stomped his foot on the ground, tugging pointedly at Phil’s hair.

“But D-annnn,” Phil mocked, his voice somehow even higher than Dan’s. Smirk on his face, Phil lightly shook Dan by the hips.

Actions speak louder than words, or so everyone said, so rather than replying, Dan opted to slide his hands from Phil’s cheeks down down down until he’d landed on Phil’s hips. Even then, Dan didn’t stop; one hand drifted farther, slipping into the hem of Phil’s pants. His fingers grazed Phil’s hipbone, creeping farther and farther back towards Phil’s arse.

Dan wiggled his eyebrows and licked his lips in what he hoped was a suggestive manner. “Come on,” he said gruffly, his hand lightly squeezing what he could reach of Phil’s arse.

“I’ll tell you what,” Phil started with a mischievous glint in his eye, shaking his head at Dan’s offer but smirking all the while. “I promise we’ll do something fun when you’re done filming the show.”

Lips pursed, Dan raised his brows skeptically. “Why can’t we do something fun later and now? It seems unnecessarily cruel for you to lounge in bed and leave me to wank in the shower,” he whined.

“Jesus christ, Dan,” Phil muttered, his eyes squeezing shut. Against his hips, Dan could feel the way Phil’s fingers dug in, he could see the way Phil’s entire body tensed. Everything about Phil’s demeanor made Dan confident that Phil would cave, if not now, then soon.

It took a moment, but Phil opened them again, although he didn’t quite meet Dan’s eye. “We both know if I come with you, we’ll both get absurdly distracted.”

“So?” Dan asked petulantly, sticking his lip out this time.

“So!” Phil huffed, exasperated. “You have a big day today and should focus on that. Besides, I should really call my mum.”

Dan wrinkled his nose, horrified at the change in subject. “Your mum? Are you really dragging your mum into this to turn me off?”

“Shut up, you twat.” Phil rolled his eyes, finally tipping his head far enough back to meet Dan’s gaze again. “My mum’s only request is that I text her if I leave the time zone, and now we’ve traveled through like six, so I think I owe her a call.”

“Yikes,” Dan cringed, his face scrunched up in horror. “You should have called her from the aeroport or something!” Dan tapped Phil’s shoulder impatiently, trying to get his point across.

Phil smiled softly, one hand reaching up to still Dan’s hand, trapping it against Phil’s neck. “I didn’t wanna leave you alone,” he said warmly, his other thumb grazing over Dan’s hipbone.

“Ugh,” Dan recoiled instantly, his nose wrinkling up in disgust. He wrangled his hand out of Phil’s grip, lightly swatting him on the shoulder. “Gross,” Dan whined, but his lips were drawn into a beaming smile.

Phil flicked Dan’s shoulder with his free hand, and flashed him a cheeky grin. “Shut up and go shower, Howell.”

“Fuck you too, Lester,” Dan pouted.

“You can do whatever you want later,” Phil teased coyly, his hand dipping into Dan’s pants to squeeze the top of his arse. Even knowing that Phil wasn’t going to accompany him to the shower, Dan couldn’t help but arch back into Phil’s touch.

“Fine, but you better believe I’m taking you up on that promise,” Dan griped, taking a minute step backward.

“Good,” Phil said with a shameless smile. “I hoped you would.”

********************

As much as Dan had resented having to get himself off with a rushed and mediocre handjob in the shower when he had a perfectly good, sexy boyfriend right outside the door, Phil had been right. From the minute Dan had gotten out of the shower — literally, he actually got out early because Louise was ringing — until the time Dan had been plopped down in a makeup chair in a small dressing room, he’d been having non-stop conversations about logistics and planning. Between Louise, his record label, and the Tonight Show coordinators, Dan barely had time to breathe — much less fuck around in the shower.

All the planning had been good though. It kept his mind busy and held his nerves at bay — until now.

Now, as some random woman dabbed foundation onto Dan’s face, there was nothing to do other than let his mind wander. Phil had ducked out a few minutes ago, going on a quest for decent coffee for Dan. While Dan really did want some tolerable caffeine, he was beginning to regret letting Phil be the one to get it.

Phil’s grounding chatter had disappeared, and along with it, so had Dan’s composure. Nerves had settled deep in the pit of his stomach and were slowly taking over his whole body. Sure, Dan had been given a run-down of topics Jimmy would hit on — and allowed to veto any he was uncomfortable with — but the gravity of what he was about to do, what he was about to talk about on national television, was weighing on him.

The makeup artist finished with the foundation and grabbed a natural-looking dark brown mascara from the pot. “Look up, please,” she instructed.

Dan eyed the brown mascara — mascara that was basically almost the exact same shade as his own eyelashes. Something about it didn’t feel right tonight, and he couldn’t quite keep his gut from screaming about it. This whole week was a movement towards being more authentic, and in a sudden moment of brazenness, Dan interrupted the makeup woman.

“Actually —” Dan paused. Stalled in hesitation, his tongue darting out to nervously wet his lower lip. Fuck it. Tonight was about making a statement. A big, loud and proud statement. He wasn’t going to half-ass it. “Can you do some eyeliner first? And maybe the black mascara?” The words came out more unsure than he’d wanted them to, and his hand was shaky as he pointed to the most dramatic tube, but he’d asked all the same. That’s what counted.

Dan expected the woman to be surprised, to balk at his request for something more feminine than she was offering. But to his surprise, she smiled broadly and gushed, “Of course!” as she pulled a small bag out of her kit. “What kind of look are you going for? Something subtle that will bring out your eyes? Or something more dramatic like the mid-2000s emo trend?”

“Um…” Dan floundered, suddenly doubting his decision — he didn’t want either of those options. Eyes fluttering closed, Dan listened to Adaline’s voice in his head saying one deep breath and then do the thing that scares you. “Neither,” he said as he met the makeup artist’s gaze with a defiant stare. This time, his voice wasn’t trembling or uncertain. It was strong. Confident.

The makeup artist’s head tilted slightly, and her lips quirked up into a small grin. “Okay, tell me what you’d like.”

Dan’s gaze drifted to his reflection in the mirror, his eyes tracing over the features of his face. “Nothing too dramatic, but I want it to be… noticeable.” He contemplated his long lashes and the dark brown of his eyes. “Something… pretty.”

“I can definitely do pretty!” The woman assured him with bubbly enthusiasm. “What are your thoughts about a bit of highlighter and bronzer to make those cute cheeks pop?”

A warm blush flushed Dan’s cheeks, and he looked down at his lap to hide his smile. He was flustered. Not from her calling him cute, but from the fact that someone other than Louise was willing to indulge his interest in makeup.

“Yeah,” Dan agreed softly, glancing up to meet the woman’s gaze in the mirror. “Whatever you think will look nice.”

Mesmerized, Dan watched as the woman pulled palette after palette out of her bag, opening and closing them as she seemed to debate which products to use. It was all so much nicer than the kid’s kit he’d bought Darcy, and so much more than the small stock Adaline used to have in her bathroom drawers.

The woman brushed powders over his cheeks, some feeling like they were almost down to his chin, some feeling like the went all the way up to his eye. Having his makeup done — proper makeup, not just stage makeup — was more nerve-wracking than Dan had anticipated, and he forced himself to avert his eyes anywhere but his own reflection. If he saw himself before she’d finished, he worried that he’d lose his courage; it was better to wait until the whole thing was done, then it would be harder to derail.

And maybe it’d look nice enough that he wouldn’t want to.

He reached out for one of the untouched palettes and opened it, only to find an array of greys and whites and blacks, some shimmery, some matte, and some straight up glitter. They were pretty — prettier than he thought he thought makeup could be, honestly.

“What’s this?” he asked, raising the palette a bit so the woman could see.

“Eyeshadow. Do you want some of that, too?” She asked it like it was the simplest question in the world, not like Dan was taking a rather large step in his slow but steady defiance of gender roles and heteronormativity.

His eyes lingered on one glittery grey powder, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a gaping fish.

After a moment’s hesitation, he weakly responded, “I think… not today.”

The makeup artist considered him for a second before plucking the palette out of his hands. “It’s up to you, of course, but we could do something really subtle. Maybe like this?” She spun the palette around so Dan could see it again, and pointed to one of the lightest options, a pale white with the faintest of shimmer. Dan didn’t know much about makeup, but he doubted the color would even show up on his skin.

“Does that even count as a color?” he asked doubtfully.

“It’s more of an accent, usually.” The makeup artist shrugged. “But if we swept it across your eyelids, the light shimmer would catch in the light and it would look nice. Barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for it, but nice.”

Dan hesitated again, his fingers tapping the table in front of him as he considered her offer. For some reason, eyeshadow — even eyeshadow that was basically nonexistent — seemed like a bigger step than eyeliner and something to accent his cheeks.

“Here,” the makeup artist said in a soothing voice, almost as if she sensed his apprehension. Without waiting for a response from Dan, she pulled a brush out of her toolkit and reached for Dan’s hand. “I’ll swipe it on your hand so you can see what it looks like on your skin first.”

“Oh!” Dan breathed, astonished. The idea of testing it somewhere hadn’t occurred to him at all, and he was suddenly realizing how fucking little he knew about makeup. Pliantly, Dan let her guide his hand towards her, and he felt his cheeks heat up again as she swiped the brush against the inside of his wrist. It tickled far more than he’d thought it would — not necessarily a bad thing, though. The sensation only lasted a few seconds before she released his hands and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Slowly, tentatively, Dan lowered his arm, flipping it up so that he could see the soft, paler skin on the inside of his wrist.

In the end, the powder she’d applied was so light that he almost couldn’t see it. It wasn’t until he tilted his arm back and forth that he was able to see how the powder caught the light. She was right — it was just a faint shimmer, one he might not notice if he wasn’t trying to find it.

Still, the barely-there glitter was hypnotizing, and he found himself unable to look away.

“It’s so pretty,” he breathed, more to himself than to the woman.

“I’ll put it on your eyes, then,” she said definitively, leaving no room for Dan to refuse. “If you hate it, it’s easy to take off,” she added, softer this time, as she pointed to a packet labeled makeup wipes. Dan nodded, letting her do as she pleased.

As he pleased.

Tonight’s interview wasn’t a now or never moment — there would be plenty of other opportunities to make the statements he wanted to make — but it felt just as heavy. This appearance, this interview on The Tonight Show, was his first deliberate appearance after coming out just two nights before. Big gestures, actions that spoke louder than words — those had always mattered to Dan. Deep in his gut, something about this moment — a moment when he knew the largest possible audience would be watching — was calling for a grand display, and he was determined to do it justice.

“Go on then,” Dan whispered, taking a deep breath and then closed his eyes.

The tickling sensation felt different on his eyelids, but it still made his skin prickle in the same pleasant way. It was gentler and far more precise than when Darcy had tried to do it, and some part of Dan — a part of himself that he didn’t fully understand — relished the soft caress of the brush.

Truth be told, he didn’t quite know what to make of the fact that he liked the makeup brush — and the makeup — so much.

He liked being a boy, that much he knew. He liked his body, he liked his identity. But he didn’t necessarily like the box that society tried to confine him with. There were some things, some things that were traditionally labeled as for girls, that he wanted to be able to embrace on occasion.

And as the soft bristles brushed glimmer powder across his skin, Dan knew this was a particular box he wanted to break out of every now and again.

The brush disappeared, and Dan started to open his eyes, but was interrupted by a fierce cry from the makeup artist. “Wait!” she exclaimed hurriedly. “I want you to get the full effect before you decide!”

Dan clamped his eyes shut again, inhaling another long breath. “Okay, just tell me what to do then.” Nerves and excitement both chewed at his stomach, fighting for dominance. At this point, he wasn’t sure which was going to win out. He just hoped this wonderful makeup artist was fucking magical and could give him the confidence to actually do this.

“Just keep your eyes shut,” she instructed. Dan huffed out his breath, keeping his eyes tightly shut. “Well, okay a little looser than that,” the makeup artist chuckled, her thumb lightly brushing over Dan’s eyelid.

Dan did his best to relax his face and let whatever was going to happen, happen. If worse came to worst, he could have her take it off.

The sweeping, soft tickle of the brush disappeared, and suddenly a more pointed, but not quite harsh, touch replaced it. The touch sweeped right alone his eyelid, just barely dipping out onto his temple. Late night youtube binges told him that this was probably eyeliner — and that it was probably some amount of a wing (a term he only knew after three consecutive hours of Manny MUA).

After just another drag of what felt like a pen, the makeup artist prompted, “You can open now.”

For once, Dan didn’t hesitate tonight. He knew whatever he saw, it’d probably be nice. Even if he didn’t want to wear it on television, he’d interacted with this girl long enough to trust that whatever she had done was at least worthy of a private selfie before he had her remove it.

But when Dan opened his eyes, he was greeted with the lightest, gentlest glow on his eyelids, and eyeliner that was just this side of dramatic. It wasn’t wings, not in the way he’d seen on youtube binges. But it also wasn’t just eyeliner accentuating the natural line of his eye. The eyeliner stretched out from the corner of his eye, just a hair, forming into a subtle point — nothing large enough to be truly loud, but enough to be definitively there.

Dan opened his mouth to say something, but the words got caught in his mouth. To his great annoyance, he felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes — tears he was determined to not let fall. With rough determination, he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat, and cleared his voice before he tried to speak again.

“It’s great,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving his own eyes in the mirror. “Thanks.”

“Well let me put mascara on so you can get the full effect,” the woman said cheekily, waving a black tube in front of his face.

“Oh!” Dan gasped. Right — mascara. That was what had started this whole accidental makeup binge. “Go ahead, then,” Dan agreed.

He shifted his gaze up, prying his eyes open and forcing himself not to blink. The pull of the wand against his eyelashes was much more familiar — mascara was a pretty common part of stage makeup, a bit of makeup that was socially acceptable for guys to wear under certain conditions.

He loved that she was applying it after having put eyeshadow and eyeliner on.

“Okay, now tell me what you think.”

Dan’s eyes fluttered open again, appraising himself carefully in the mirror. The whole look seemed completed now that she’d added mascara. His eyes popped and his cheekbones seemed much more prominent than normal, the light reflecting off them more than usual. It wasn’t anything too radically different from how he normally looked, but still. The makeup was very clearly present. It was exactly what he’d wanted.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly, his eyes staying fixed on his reflection.

“Here,” the artist said, nudging something hard into his bicep. “You should keep this.”

Dan broke his own gaze, his eyes flitting down to his arm. In the woman’s hand was the eyeshadow palette, the one that was filled with shimmery and matte monochrome powders.

“I — I couldn’t, that’s yours,” Dan stumbled in surprise.

“I want you to have it.” She offered him a kind smile and set the palette down in his lap. “I can tell you like the colors.” Knocking her shoulder against Dan’s, she smiled softly and held his gaze in the mirror.

“Still —” Dan started, not quite knowing where his rebuttal was going, just knowing he felt guilty about taking something that probably cost decent money from someone. He swallowed thickly, glancing from the artist to the palette and back up again. “I could buy my own or something.”

“I know,” she said softly, shrugging. Her eyes met his in the mirror, holding his gaze steadily. “But now you don’t have to go find the courage to do that right away. Have fun with it, see what you think.”

Dan stared down at the dozen shades of white, grey, and black, at a loss for how to use them. “I — I barely know what to do with eyeshadow, much less this many of them.” Dan sheepishly looked up at the woman, not feeling nearly worthy of such a gift.

“There are loads of youtube videos.” The woman chuckled as she dug around in her purse. “But here, take my card and we can have a little skype if you don’t know what to do.”

“Wow,” Dan mumbled, numbly reaching out for the card and blankly staring at the bold black letters spelling Sofia Ricci against the stark white background. “Okay, um, I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” Sofia said definitively. “Now about those nails.”

Dan’s eyes shot down to his hands at the completely random observation, his eyes raking over his still matte-silver fingertips. His brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of Sofia’s comment.

“What about them?” he huffed, borderline offended as he glanced back up at her.

“I noticed some of them were smudged, and I was going to offer some nail polish remover, but…” Sofia trailed off, her eyes flickering down to her bag.

“But what?” Dan pushed when she didn’t finish her thought, eyes narrowed.

Bending over, Sofia dug through her bag for a second before holding out a small bottle of black nail polish in front of Dan. “Well, I thought maybe I could add some little designs over the smudges instead?”

Their eyes met in the mirror and Dan felt his heart fucking swell at how kind and supportive Sofia looked. Half an hour ago, she had just been a random makeup woman. And twenty minutes ago, she’d been offering to dress him up like Gerard Way à la 2006. But since then, she’d morphed into a supportive ally, someone who seemed to genuinely encourage Dan’s interest in all of… this.

“Hearts,” Dan said decisively, placing his hands on the table with purpose.

Sofia’s expression softened, a smile hinting at her lips. “Sure thing,” she assured as she unscrewed the black bottle with an air of confidence. Silently, she dipped a toothpick into the polish and gestured for Dan’s hand. Gently but confidently, she spread his fingers against the counter and began dotting the toothpick with intense concentration.

Somehow, the resolute attention that Sofia was giving to Dan’s nails was wildly different from the manicurist that Dan had occasionally gone to over the last few years. Sofia knew she was prepping Dan to go out in front of a massive public audience, Sofia was painstakingly painting delicate designs on Dan’s nails, Sofia was gently pushing Dan to be as authentic as he felt comfortable being.

Dan forced himself to look anywhere but his nails while Sofia worked. The whole nail polish thing — or at least wearing it in public — was new enough that it was still nerve-wracking, but he could still recall how lovely his nails had looked after the manicurist finished them earlier this week.

And he could perfectly remember the reverent look on Phil’s face when he’d noticed.

Sofia painted in silence for a few minutes, working her way through Dan’s entire right hand before she spoke again. The sound of her voice startled Dan enough that he glanced over at her.

“So,” she started tentatively. “I feel like I should confess that I saw your instagram post.”

Dan froze. “Oh,” he said, the one syllable coming out tight and short.

“I really liked it,” Sofia added softly, sounding far more tentative than she had since they’d been introduced.

Dread washed over Dan as he slowly began to process the meaning behind Sofia’s words — she clearly followed him on Instagram. She was probably a fan. In his experience, no secrets were safe with fans — that’s why he’d always had pretty much anyone he let close sign an NDA.

He hadn’t even hesitated with Sofia, though — and that was about to be his downfall. His interest in makeup was probably destined to be broadcasted all over the covers of the tabloids by this time tomorrow.

Frozen, Dan stared at himself in the mirror, unable to properly look at Sofia. Unfortunately, this meant he was forced to watch the way horror and fear flooded his own eyes. The terror was plainly written on his face, and it was impossible for Sofia not to notice it, too.

“Fuck — I mean, uh, frick, I mean —” Sofia stopped her dotting of his nails, instead looking up at him like a deer in headlights.

The expression was so startled, so genuine, that a little bit of Dan’s fears ebbed away. She looked so genuinely taken aback, so honestly scared of Dan’s reaction to what she’d said, that Dan couldn’t help but question if his worries were misplaced.

“Cursing is fine Sofia,” Dan assured her, his voice tighter than he wanted it to be. He drug his tongue along his bottom lip, trying to decide how much he wanted to allow. His eyes flickered to the eyeshadow palette and then to the business card on the table. He decided to take a leap of faith. “Just say whatever you want to say.”

“Right,” Sofia mumbled and flushed red, clearly embarrassed. “I just meant, I liked it… like, as a fan, it was good to see, but…” Her eyes didn’t quite meet Dan’s as she trailed off.

“...But?” Dan prompted, heart racing.

“But, as a fellow bisexual, it was the best post I’ve seen all year.”

“Oh,” Dan breathed, blinking rapidly in surprise. “I — I…”

Suddenly words seemed impossible to Dan — something that wasn’t exactly great since he was supposed to be talking about this very topic on national television in less than an hour. But he had hardly expected his makeup artist to broach this conversation with him (and he definitely hadn’t expected to ask for fucking eyeshadow from her).

“Sorry, I made it weird,” Sofia apologized, her gaze dropping back to her hands as she started steadily dotting another heart on Dan’s nails.

“No!” Dan exclaimed more forcefully than intended. “I mean, no,” he corrected, voice softer this time. “It’s not weird.”

Peeking up from Dan’s nails, Sofia caught his gaze in the mirror. “It’s not?”

“No. I — I didn’t realize until I came out how little bisexual representation there was out there.” Dan’s gaze flickered from Sofia’s gaze to his nails as he contemplated the decision he was making — the decision he’d technically already made. But with every word, the decision felt like more and more of an active choice. “And now… well, it doesn’t seem fair for us to keep being alone.”

“Thank you,” Sofia said softly, a hint of disbelief in her voice that Dan so desperately wished didn’t have to be there. That doubt wouldn’t exist if more people spoke up, if more people were authentic and tried to live their truth. “From all of us. It’s hard not seeing people like ourselves in the media, so what you’re doing… it means a lot.”

“Every listener I have is going to know that bisexuality is a real thing if I can help it,” Dan asserted, voice fierce for the first time that night.

“That’s the spirit,” Sofia whispered conspiratorially.

Dan nodded once, not saying anything else.

Of all the conversations he’d imagined having just before filming The Tonight Show, this certainly wasn’t one of them. But now that it had happened, it felt exactly like the conversation he’d needed — a conversation to remind him why he was so passionate about professing his bisexuality. Passion that stemmed from somewhere deeper, somewhere more important that Isabella’s whiny slander.

a/n2: look i was gonna have the interview in this chapter but i got fucking excited and carried away, okay?

#slow burn #singer!dan #barista!phil #phan au #coffee shop au #iminclinedtowriting #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #love yourself #ly

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oursoulsareone · 6 years ago

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On the week of my trial against the domestic abuse suffered by the hands of Matthew, I have decided to finally write the post that has been going around in my head the past year or so. And to be honest this post makes me a nervous wreck to sit down and write because I will likely publish it to my actual-not-so-secret-real-blog as well.

There is something that needs to be addressed. It is 2019 and this is still a huge issue. I am generally not vocal about the abuse too as I still have anxiety from it and it’s hard for me to relive but I want that to change because most domestic abuse (and rapes) go unreported. Why? Because no matter how much girls preach ‘feminism’ and ‘believing women’ and all that bullshit (and yes, I say bullshit because most of those girls are sitting behind a keyboard when it comes time to do the right thing, most girls fall away.

Women and girls are afraid to speak out.

And sure, it has to do with being afraid of the abuser/rapist. It’s scary as hell. I know when I was convinced to report Matt that I was afraid he would come kill me. I had a police presence in the neighborhood making sure there was no face to face contact with him.

But also, it has to do with all those people who choose not to believe you. So and so is so charming. He’s so nice, he could never. Fact; most abusers, rapists and serial killers are charming, charismatic and socially manipulative. So of course it is unbelievable for the vast majority of friends/family/acquaintances to believe.

I recently have met a friend of mine (we’ll call her Mary) who went through something very similar in her life time. We have a lot in common. Anxiety. Our views on our self-worth. The way we handle problems. The wavering tone in our voice as we opened up to one another about the hell we suffered... But she never reported her ex husband (we’ll call him Frank). Why? Because people either didn’t want to get involved or people didn’t believe her.

She lost her best friend in the divorce because she just could’t see him being ‘the type.’ But there is no ‘type.’ Some are outright aggressive, some are really sweet in the light. Others are only aggressive in fights (Matt) and amazing all of the other times.

Mary’s story is not my story to tell so I won’t go into too much detail, but I will tell you, her ex-best friend set her own roommate up with Frank and a few months later, Mary received an apologetic call from this girl... but by then it was too late.

My relationship wasn’t the typical-abusive one you see in the movies.

Most aren’t.

Most abusers aren’t drunk, aggressive assholes who come home from work angry at everything and beat their wife.

Most abusers are normal guys. Which is why it’s so hard for people to wrap their heads around the idea that the guy the know would be capable of doing such horrible acts.

Most abusers only get physical when they are angry. In fights. And most women in these situations become experts at deceiving.

Matt is extremely manipulating. He knows how to act to get people to like him. He is like a chameleon, you like horses? So does he. You like to fish? Sure he does. And he’s just smart enough to know what to talk about. He’s witty and funny and comes off as very caring (in all honesty, I am sure he is a caring person, just has an anger inside of him) and passionate.

But there is a reason he failed a handful of psych evals for police departments in Washington before we moved to Utah.

There is a reason the police were called on him several times for aggressive acts (fights with our neighbors, luring my ex boyfriend to my apartment, noise/yelling).

Because underneath the facade there is a monster. And the monster only comes out with anger, otherwise it is shocking.

Classic domestic violence research will tell you why I stayed. I thought I loved him. And I did. I loved the sweet, Matt. The fun, Matt. The Matt that played with my family and cousins. The Matt who left me sweet messages and flowers. The one who did everything possible when we were not fighting to make me open up and forgive him again. I barely told a soul. I didn’t want people to hate him. I care far too much what people think (or did at the time) so I acted like we were in a perfectly happy marriage, because most of the time we were.

Everything was great in the beginning.

And we rushed into marriage. I was in love, or as much as a sheltered 19 year old could be... and I was happy.

I was even happy when the abuse started. The arm twisting. Pushing me around (at this time it was usually only to beds and chairs and barely hurt). He’d apologize profusely. And the fights were few and far between.

But after deployment he was angrier. More aggressive. And months went on and the abuse got worse. Once something happened it was so much easier to go back to it.

He never, ever close-fist punched me. I think he took that as the definition of “abuse” but for some reason he didn’t see a problem with hair pulling, slamming my head into the ground and choking. Screaming so loud into my face that spit covered my face.

The fights would end.

And everything was back to “normal.”

As time went on this weighed on me.

I become more reserved. Quiet. I stopped blogging.

I focused on my job. I focused on becoming a mom.

The fight that ended the abuse.

Looking back I wish I had told someone everything sooner. The biggest fight we had. I was thrown down the stairs. Choked on our entry way floor until I lost consciousness after being slammed down a few times by my hair... I woke up. And I left. To our best friends house. She was gone. But her husband was home.

He saw the bruises.

His mom saw the bruises.

My best friend saw the text with the bruises. She saw the leg bruises much later.

But just like that.

The abuse stopped.

He always told me, threatened me, not to tell anyone. But I did. I caved. I got so scared that I reached out. And it stopped.

We were so far pulled apart at that point that the next 4 months we barely kissed or spent time together. I was still under the manipulation spell, I was just so depressed I had nothing to do. Nothing made me happy. I was convinced I deserved nothing.

And then he sat me down in early January 2017. And told me he didn’t think he could do this anymore. Of course at this point he had been having his affair for months now, unbeknown to me.

I was devastated. I thought my life was ending. I was so convinced no one would ever love me again. I didn’t want to be a statistic. He made be believe I had everything wrong with me and was broken.

We wrote up the divorce papers. And I was having such a hard time accepting all of this.

And then I was set up on a date with a good guy at the very in of February. A few dates. A few months fling. Did I love him? Nope. But did he show me there was a better life ahead? Yes. He treated me like I deserved and showed me my worth.

Matt realized I was happy. His control was gone.

So he tried to get it back. He begged for me back for a solid week in March. He got drunk. Sent love messages. Cried. But I was out of his grasp. I made it out.

I was still lost. I was going to almost-weekly counseling at this point. Building myself back up, working on anxiety and learning just what abuse does.

The post linked below is a great one that addresses this in greater detail. My purpose of writing this specific post was to talk more about the hypocrisy that is most women who call themselves feminists but won’t stand behind a “friend.”

http://oursoulsareone.tumblr.com/post/179269571592/why-didnt-you-just-leave

#dv #domesticviolence #tw #triggerwarning #abuse #matthew

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hockeyandstuff91 · 6 years ago

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Three of a Kind - Part 1

Word count: 2,539

Players: Tyler Seguin, Andre Burakovsky, Jamie Benn, the rest of the Stars (mentioned)

Other people: Katie

Warnings: Cussing, mean comments on social media

Authors Note: YUP HERE I AM starting a new fucking series like a crazy person lmao xD This one is going to be a lot different from my other one. We shall see how this goes lol I hope you all enjoy it!!!

PS Sorry the first part is so short but there should be a follow up soon ANDDDD I promise you part 18 is on the way! I PROMISE It is almost done I just have a few more scenes to write and then that will be up too <3

Also thank you to @psychospeak-blog for helping me with the title, and encouraging me to write this story. I was unsure how people would react to where this is going to go but she helped me get over that and just write whatever I want. Love you bby! Thanks for all the support <3 (Also GO READ HER SERIES WONT GO SLOWLY ITS SO DAMN GOOD)

Part 2

November 15th 2018

(Brooke’s POV)

"Well, you are gonna be happy," Tyler said as he walked into the living room, handing me his phone.

"Wait what?" I asked looking up at him and he just nodded at his phone.

I looked down and read a twitter post that said "Washington Capitals trade Andre Burakovsky to Dallas Stars for Remi Elie."

"Whoa what?!"

"Your little Swedish boyfriend will be in town," Tyler said, grabbing his phone. I could tell he wasn't actually mad he was just trying to give me a hard time.

Tyler had known that from the start of me watching hockey that he, himself, had always been my favorite. We had met when I moved to Dallas to be roommates with my best friend. I ended up working at a local coffee shop that he went to a lot, and our relationship had gone from there. I was moved into his house in 5 months of us being together and we had been that way ever since, a year later. He knew that Dallas was my team, I went to every home game, and of course supported my baby. However I did have other teams I liked as well as other players. He had made jokes about it at first, fake being mad, but he made sure that I knew he didn't actually mind.

Burky happened to be one of them. I had a jersey of his, which Tyler had given me a lot of shit for when I first got it. I was so shocked to see that Washington had traded him at all, he had been doing so great this past season, and they had just won the cup! What I was even more surprised about was that Dallas had gotten him.

Tyler sat down on the couch next to me and wrapped his arm around me, kissing my temple. I cuddled into the side of him and smiled, closing my eyes. I was glad that Tyler wasn't the type of boyfriend to actually be bothered by little things like that. If this had been my last relationship it would of caused so many fights.

"You know I'm just messing with you right?" He whispered in my ear and I smiled, nodding.

"Of course I do," I turned to look up at him and leaned forward to give him a kiss.

It had been about 2 months since Andre had gotten into town and started playing with the boys. I had talked to him at a few events that Tyler would bring me along to, and he was very sweet. It was a long weekend with no games and Tyler decided that he wanted to have a BBQ with everyone since the weather was going to be nice, even being in the middle of January. People had slowly started showing up as the day went on, Jamie and Katie were the first to arrive, Katie being sweet and wanting to help me finish getting everything ready while Tyler and Jamie started to cook on the grill.

I had just finished making the last side dish and put it into the fridge until everything else was ready to go when Andre walked into the house. I gave him a quick hug, welcoming him to his first Stars BBQ and showed him the way to the backyard. The dogs were running around with some of the guys who were playing keep away with a frisbee, Tyler and Jamie were hanging out by the grill and some of the WAGs were sitting out around the pool.

I went back inside where Katie was still in the kitchen, making herself a drink. She smiled at me as I walked back in and laughed softly.

"What?" I asked looking at her as I leaned against the island counter.

"Nothing.." she said, still smiling. "Alright alright," she said, already knowing I wasn't going to let her not tell me. "Don't you dare tell Jamie I said this. You know I love him to the moon and back but Andre.."

"Yeah I know," I laughed. "I mean I have the most handsome boyfriend in the entire world, but that boy.." I sighed. "Anyways," I laughed and stood up, grabbing the drinks and helped Katie to carry them outside.

(Tyler's POV)

The night had gone great, everyone was having a blast, and the food was amazing as usual. Brooke was hanging out with Katie and some of the other girls playing corn hole.

"You're really lucky man," Andre said to me as I sat back down in my chair at the fire pit.

"Whys that?" I asked, taking a sip of my drink.

"Brooke is really great. She listens and actually cares how you feel. Never found anything like that back in D.C."

I smiled and nodded. "Yeah I got lucky with that one," I said looking over to where she was standing.

(Brooke's POV) 2 months later

It was the first home game for the boys since they had been on their two week road trip. They had just won, Tyler getting the winning goal. I had headed downstairs towards the locker room with Katie to meet our boys after they finished with media and such. We were standing against the wall when I saw Tyler walk out of the locker room and smiled at me.

"So.." he started.

I looked at him, my eyebrows furrowing. "So what?" I asked, knowing he had something going on in that brain of his.

"Um.. How do you feel about a roommate?"

"No more dogs Tyler," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "I love the boys but Gerry is still a puppy and acts crazy-"

"No not another dog," he laughed.

"Oh.. Um who?"

"Well.." Tyler paused and looked over his shoulder. I could see Andre lurking in the background, looking down at his feet, holding his duffel bag. I uncrossed my arms from in front of me and looked back up to Ty.

"Andre?"

He nodded. "He doesn't have anywhere to stay right now. The apartment that he got to start out with is uh.. well its not really a safe livable environment. So I offered him to stay with us until he finds a place. We have the guest room downstairs so I figured it would-"

"Tyler," I laughed. "Its your house babe."

"Its your house too."

"I know, you keep telling me that," I smiled and leaned up to give him a kiss. "Yes of course he can stay with us," I said after pulling away.

Tyler looked back over his shoulder and motioned for Andre to come over. "The boss lady said its okay," Tyler said, laughing when I smacked his arm.

"I'm not the boss lady," I rolled my eyes and smiled.

"Thank you Brooke, I appreciate this a lot," Andre said, shyly.

"Of course!" I smiled and we all made our way outside to head home.

The end of the season was fast approaching and I could tell that the boys were a little stressed out. They had yet to clinch a spot in the playoffs but there was still a chance for sure. They had just gotten back home from a few away games last night, having tonight off. Tyler had decided he wanted to head to the gym this morning, waking me up with a kiss goodbye.

I rolled over in bed and grabbed my phone off of my bedside table to see if I had any notifications. I unlocked my phone and opened Instagram, seeing that I had a few on there. As soon as I opened the app I smiled, seeing that Tyler had posted a picture of me when I was sleeping. I didn't look too bad, and the caption he had put was super cute. However I should of stopped there and not continued to scroll down because seeing the comments that were posted was too much this early in the morning.

I had been used to people being mean to me on social media since I started dating Tyler, and for the most part I could handle it and just ignored them. I knew that Tyler loved me and how he felt about me so I didn't feel the need to prove myself to any of these hockey fans, however there were some moments when certain comments affected me more than other.

Today was, sadly, one of those days. It had already been a hard enough month with dealing with my grandfather going through dementia and being in and out of the hospital because he had become aggressive with my grandmother on a few occasions. Being so far away I felt helpless, not that there was anything I could really do in the first place anyways. My emotions had kind of been all over the place because of that, and reading comments on a picture of me like "I can't believe you are still with that cow" or "Is Tyler blind or what? I don't get how she ended up with someone like him." and my favorite, from the same girl who always posted some bull shit about me "He only likes her for her tits. its so obvious. There is no way that they will last. I have a better chance at being with him than she ever did, he just didn't meet me yet."

I sighed and shut my phone off and got out of bed. I pulled on one of Tyler's shirts and a pair of PJ shorts. All three dogs lifted their heads off the bed as they watched me walk across the room, jumping off the bed to follow me out of the room and down the stairs. There was no way I was going to go back to sleep after that so might as well make some breakfast. However I was no longer hungry so maybe I should just have an apple or something..

I grabbed a water out of the fridge and an apple off the counter and walked into the living room, sitting down and turning the TV on. I was trying really hard to focus on whatever it was that was on the TV but I couldn't. I was still thinking about those comments and I had a bad feeling that wouldn't change for a while. I looked over, seeing my reflection in the glass door that lead out to the backyard and closed my eyes. Great now I was seeing what the dumb asses on the internet did.

I had gained a little weight over the last 6 months. Tyler said he didn't believe me at all that I looked the same as I had the whole time we had been together, and that was how he liked me. I loved that was how he was with me, it always made me feel better, but I still always had that little voice in the back of my head that fought with every good thing that was said to me.

I curled up on the couch, resting my head on the pillow. I didn't even realize that I was crying until Andre had come in with a plate of food for himself and sat on the other couch next to me. He looked over, doing a double take when he noticed I was crying.

"Brooke?" He asked softly. "Are you okay?"

Andre was very sweet, I loved having him as a roommate. He and I had bonded over a few things, and became really great friends in the time that we had spent together. However when I had my weaker moments he was always there to listen to me and give me a hug which always helped. Tyler of course did those things as well but it was different from Andre. I knew that Andre had dealt with being hard on himself as well, and while I know Tyler did from time to time too it was just.. different somehow. I felt like Andre kind of understood more than Ty did.

I nodded and wiped my cheeks. "Yeah Andre I'm okay," I said softly and turned my attention back to the TV.

Andre set his plate down on the coffee table and shook his head. "No you aren't. Whats the matter?"

I sighed and sat up. "I just.. Tyler posted a picture of me this morning on his Instagram and.."

"People were mean."

I looked up at him and nodded. "Yeah how did you know?"

"I saw them," he said softly and stood up, walking over to sit next to me. "I'm sorry people are like that. It's not true though," he said and wiped my cheek.

I looked down at my lap and nodded. "Thanks."

"No seriously Brooke. You are beautiful and sweet and kind. You deserve everything that you have, they are all just jealous."

"Jealous of what Andre?" I asked and looked up at him. "I'm not exactly model esque. I don't look like any of the other WAGs. They are all very sweet girls though, so they don't see it like everyone else does, but I do. I'm sick of feeling like I don't fit in. I'm sick of feeling like no matter what I do no one will like me. And I'm sick of caring about any of that. As much as I try, or as many times as Tyler tells me to stop worrying about the fans I can't," I explained, more tears running down my face.

Andre sighed and grabbed my right hand with his left and rubbed circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. "I understand-"

"No Andre I don't think you do! You are perfect. You are a good looking guy, you are fit, you play in the NHL, you won a Stanley cup. You-" my voice cut off, not able to continue as I cried harder. I know that all these emotions were not just from the comments on the picture today, but everything building up over the last few months.

Andre wrapped his arms around me, pressing my face against his chest and rubbing my back. "Please don't cry," he said softly.

After a few minutes I finally had calmed down enough and pulled back from his embrace. I sighed and wiped my cheeks off, not wanting to look at him. "I'm sorry. Its just with everything going on with my grandpa lately and then toda-" I started to apologize but my words got cut off, Andre's lips meeting mine.

I tensed, not sure what to do because I was in shock, my brain still not caught up to what was going on just yet. I had thought about kissing him before, way before Tyler and I were ever together, but I never thought that it would happen. Granted I didn’t think I would also be dating Tyler ever in my life, let alone at the same time that Andre decided to kiss me. What the fuck?! He pulled away before I even got the chance to, his eyes wide.

"Oh my god," he mumbled. "I-I'm so.. I'm so sorry Brooke," He said and stood up. "I.. fuck," he swore under his breath and walked out of the living room.

#nhl fanfic #tyler seguin #andre burakovsky #three of a kind #FUCK ANOTHER SERIES?!#brooke come on stop doing this to yourself xD #hope you all enjoy!#<3 #three of a kind part 1

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