#separately: the people they try to attempt us are fat in this movie are insane

[loverboyfae]

obsessed with when companies base their visuals on color blindness tests. looking at the thing that is specifically made to be unreadable by certain people and saying THAT is what we want to represent our company. we HATE the colorblind audience

[lockhartwaller1-blog]

Davina's 15 Min Fat loss Workouts.

You desire a washboard tummy like Cameron Diaz's, a bum like J-Lo's as well as a set of pins like Elle McPherson's yet possess you got the discipline to draw this off? Domestic mother and food blogger, Katie off Yes, I Desired Covered, was actually brought in to Crossfit years earlier given that she found how tough her other half workinged from that and also exactly how exceptional his end results were. I found your web site by researching periodic fasting (Verady, Morrison) in my continuous quest to try just about every food planning I could discover to follow up with alternatives for my clients for weight basic well-being. The Excellent Quick guide () Established through Teacher Dara 'Rourke from the College from California-Berkeley, this for-benefit" start-up provides a consumer overview of popular items, ranking each by health and wellness, impact on the environment, and impact on society. He ended up being very a widely known person, if you like, in the texas hold'em scene and also this carried into concern his, ah, his background in sporting activity wagering and also in wagering typically. One more excellent company the super-local updates could serve is actually arranging a family members's timetable. I would claim that real separator in the sporting activity is fatigue repeatability." You could possess individuals who are actually massively tough with insane cardiovascular engines, excellent positions, and lovely activity that fight with the sport from CrossFit. I walked right into my 1st Weight Watchers meeting at age 22. I will never officially dieted previously, though occasionally I casually consumed the way I assumed a weight loss individual should, giving up or eating even more of the food or that but never with much judgment of conviction. LITTLE ONE: Plan the amount of food you require as opposed to similar to nabbing all these factors and not utilizing half from that and also merely chucking that out. Buy enough that you feel great you will not go out and afterwards provide yourself consent to eat as much of that meals whenever you really want If you have poor legs, or even you cannot run for every other reason, you can still be actually fully very competitive within this group sporting activity. If all more stops working why certainly not attempt snooker or darts (hello thy're sports too ideal!!) When it comes to cycling downhill try freewheeling down a certainly not too steep incline and after that move on to steeper slopes as you understand that. As soon as you may decline at 40mph you'll certainly never look back!! He is actually associated with mentoring activities with the National Aboriginal Sports Company, NASCA. The best part regarding this sport is that nobody actually recognizes exactly what this is. It is actually a terrific explanation for trivia, yet you don't listen to the only thing that a lot regarding that apart from the periodic confusion of that along with paddle tennis. Food items Pornography Daily gives a mouth watering and also artery-blocking plenitude from bad (but appetizing) eating. So our company plunged into an adventure to nourish and recover both of us via food and alternative lifestyle. I understand a lot of individuals which possess the Wii Fit and also only enjoy this. Personally, I decided not to buy a computer game device just for working out, but if somebody I recognized possessed one, I might attempt it once or twice to see how that was actually. As soon as you're standing up, this's easy to throw some simple physical exercises in like calf bone elevates, side lower leg assists, squats, standing extents, and so on As swift 'take-away' food can be very higher in glucose and excess fat, look at some choices to these foods items if they are actually marketed in your canteen. That holds true 4 or even 5 oreos never got rid of any individual, this is actually consuming half the cram in one resting that ultimately does. I watched your online video on physical exercises for the street as well as this received me presuming- I am a company pupil as well as sitting at a workdesk for hours at a time for internships makes me believe that I'm squandering sooo a lot opportunity that I might be spending receiving fit. My images off 2 summers ago at my fittest- could not care less exactly what the incrustation must claim because I was in wonderful shape & confident. His work relies on styles like the Lord's Acre, a Christian community landscape that increases organic food for those in demand. I feel the perks of sport variation in childhood years have actually been presented to exceed those found with sport field of expertise. I like to warm all my meals on the cooktop though as the microwave supposively messes with the chemical compose of food items when swung". Involvement in sporting activities counters the primary public health issues of being overweight as well as, perhaps more significantly, the disengagement" that all of us note in little ones at presents. The exercise courses operated by the meals companies are window suiting up, and also no have no effect. NATALIE WHITING: He claims ongoing participation rates are greater in sporting activities like netball that are actually viewed as womanly. Our experts established the food kitchen around the altar, smack in the middle of the temple. For http://fitnesswelt-de.com/calminax-bewertung-meinungen-preis-zutaten-effekte-und-nebenwirkungen-wo-koennen-sie-kaufen/ of the final 10 thousand years, food development was actually a straightforward affair - produce grown, or livestock reared, on small ranches, groves and also market backyards, traded at neighborhood markets, and also prepared in your home. I will certainly steer throughout city and also enjoy a film along with bad testimonials if there is some snacks in the offer, although I have a home movie theater and all the food I really want in your home. That is crucial to reveal a youngster to other sports so they learn a variety from skills, meet a variety from various other little ones for socializing along with kids having various other rate of interests, job a variety of muscle teams for vital physical as well as health care reasons," Sally Johnson, executive director from the National Authorities from Sports, told Healthline. I adore what I perform as well as possessing total artistic authority over how I perform my work and also design my day is actually priceless. KERRY STAIGHT: Indeed, Australia's food possessions are increasingly bring in foreign shoppers. It's not surprising that for lots of people believed relating to food items and workout occur not in the remit of our reptilian brain (which regulates intuition) yet in our mammalian mind (which manages emotional state). This's certainly not a good idea to eat negative meals, drink sugar water (alleged sports alcoholic beverages") or perform medications which require you to exercise for hrs daily merely to make up. EA Athletics Active collaborate with the Wii to give you an activating workout session in the privacy of your very own home.

[hellomissmabel]

Vienna

MASTERLIST

AO3 account

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x plus size!reader

Warnings: Fat shaming, angst, fluffy ending

Word count: 2.302

Summary: Sebastian and Y/N are taking a time-out while Sebastian finishes up filming for his new movie. They’re not splitting up for Sebastian it feels that way and in one final attempt at making amends, he shows up unexpectedly at Y/N���s door.

A/N: Written for @caplansteverogers

Inspired by the song “Gasoline” by Halsey. Lyrics in italics.

All plus size fics can be found here

Are you insane like me? Been in pain like me? Bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like me? Just to pour that motherfucker down the drain like me? Would you use your water bill to dry the stain like me?

It’s early when you can hear the doorbell ring, the display of your alarm saying it’s not even 6 a.m. on this dreary Wednesday morning. Swinging your feet over the edge of the bed, you stretch your arms and look at yourself in the mirror on the other end of the bedroom. You’ve got a royal bed head and your shirt is slightly crooked. In your dusty pink pyjama shorts and light grey t-shirt you shuffle towards the front door of your New York apartment, expecting to see your landlord to ask you about the rent again.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Y/N…,” the voice on the other side of the door responds when you want to slam the door back into his face. “I just flew all the way here so please, just let me in.” You relent and he closes the door behind him, a guilty look on his face, before following you over to the couch. He sits down but you don’t, instead leaning against the wall and keeping your distance.

“What are you doing here, Seb?,” you question him as you suppress a yawn, crossing your arms over your chest to hide your taut nipples pressing through the fabric of your shirt. You usually sleep covered under a million blankets, so you never realised until now how chilly it’s in your apartment without the heating turned up to match the early autumn cold.

Sebastian fidgets with the paper bag he’s holding, putting it on your living room table so you can look inside it. “I found these while cleaning up our bedroom.”

“It’s not our bedroom anymore,” you snap back before you can bite your tongue, regret coursing through your veins as you see his shoulders slump like a lost puppy from the corner of your eye.

Inside the paper bag is  your old college sweater, which you thought he would’ve just thrown out after your separation. There’s also the camera Seb broke on your trip to Vienna, when you first came out as a couple and were at your happiest.

“I thought you might want these back,” he mumbles under his breath, resting his back against the couch cushions as he folds his hands in his lap.

Lastly, a half-empty bottle of the expensive champagne you got for yourself the day you broke up. But instead of drinking it like you intended to, you poured it down the drain as soon as you saw a pic of Seb pop up on Instagram, the girl’s caption stating she was glad he finally got rid of this fat cow.

“Thanks for the sweater, I thought I’d thrown it out…,” you smile sadly at him, feeling grateful that you had it back. “But you can keep the bottle, though. And that camera is broken, so I won’t be able to use it anyway.”

Seb nods, already expecting such an answer, and gets up from your couch. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

Being face to face again with the man you loved so much, and still love so much, cuts your heartstrings in a thousand little snippets. That man knows just what to say and to do in order to tug the right memories. But you’re strong and just as long as he doesn’t say those three words, you’ll be fine.

Are you high enough without the Mary Jane like me? Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me? Do the people whisper ‘bout you on the train like me? Saying that "you shouldn't waste your pretty face" like me?

Lingering a little too long for your taste, you push yourself off the wall and walk in front of him back to the door. He follows suit like a lost puppy until his chest is inches away from your back and as your hand stops seconds away from reaching the door knob.

“You still smell so good,” he whispers into your hair, his breath fanning your neck. “Like fresh laundry. Or an early spring afternoon in Vienna.”

You know what he’s trying to do by bringing up your trip to Vienna. The broken camera was a subtle clue and you didn’t realise it at first, but now you can see things clearly. “Don’t, Sebastian.”

The former brunet inhales deeply, running his hand down his face. “What am I doing, Y/N?”

“You were leaving,” you reply dryly, attempting to turn around again and open the door for him but his arm locks you in place.

“I mean, what are we doing?,” he rephrases, intense blue eyes burning holes in your face. “I love you, Y/N. I know we can’t go back to Vienna but maybe we can bring Vienna back to New York?”

Your fingers slide off the door knob and you sigh heavily. “I - I can’t go back to that life. I can’t go back to pretending to be someone I’m not.” Your eyes meet his and you immediately notice the painstaking hurt behind them.

“Look at you, Sebby.” You scan his clothes and give him a sad half smile. “You dyed your hair blond for your new movie. You dress up smart for big premieres and women all over the world swoon over you. They even write fan fiction about you.”

Collapsing your back against the surface of the door, you allow yourself to be cornered by Sebastian, his hands placed on either side of your head as he leans in closely. “Do you like the blond hair?”

Eyeing him curiously in confusion as to where this unexpected question came from, you shake your head at his silliness. “Of course I like your hair, Sebastian. But that’s not the point I’m trying to make here.”

Sighing softly, you press your hands to his chest and gently remove yourself from the door, tiptoeing back to the living room and onwards to the kitchen to make yourself a strong cup of coffee. “I don’t recognise you anymore, Seb. How can you keep your own unique identity if you continue to lose yourself in all these different characters?”

Again, he follows suit in uncomfortable silence, perched against the kitchen counter as he watches your every move very intently. “I’m just the girl next door, Seb,” you continue as you wait for the coffee machine to finish, “I’ve always been the girl next door.”

“But I don’t fit into your world. I’m not cut out for the glitter and glamour of the stardom. I don’t fit into the fancy gowns designers used to send me because I have a bigger body than the runway models they usually dress up.”

And all the people say "You can't wake up, this is not a dream You're part of a machine, you are not a human being With your face all made up, living on a screen Low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline"

Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you take a sip and revel in the warmth dripping down your throat and easing the soreness of the early morning wake up call, putting reality on hold for just a little while longer. Sebastian however, he doesn’t let your words wrap themselves around his heart. “I want to try this again, Y/N.”

You place your cup back on the counter, your hands falling limp at your sides as you cast your eyes downwards in contemplation. “I don’t think I can, Sebby.” The vulnerability in your words causes the goose bumps to cut like a knifes through your skin. “You promised to give me a couple days to figure things out. This isn’t exactly the time-out we agreed on.”

Sebastian takes a couple firm strides towards you, closing the distance until his hands cup your cheeks and his lips slant over yours. “I love you,” he whispers lowly and you know you’re done for. “I’m sorry but I can’t stand it anymore. You’ve been gone for too long and I’m going mad.”

“Sebastian…,” you try to reason with him but instead of letting you finish, his lips cut your off.

The kiss lasts longer than any other kiss with Sebastian before. Is it a minute or two? Ten minutes? An hour or two or three? You don’t know. You’ve lost all sense of time, only focused on the soft press of his lips on yours, that cheeky sliver of tongue slipping past your lips as you gasp when he squeezes your thigh.

He’s the first to deepen the kiss, but also the first to break it, instead peppering butterfly kisses down your neck and throat, crouching on his knees in front of you as he lifts up your shirt, looking up at you through thick, luscious eyelashes for permission.

The soft press of his lips on your tummy means your undoing. “I missed giving you tummy kisses. I missed your tummy, your thighs, your butt,… I missed my plus size girl.”

Are you deranged like me? Are you strange like me? Lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me? Do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me? Pointing fingers cause you'll never take the blame like me?

It’s like the earth moves under your feet, your heart bursting as you run your hands through his blond hair. “You know just the right things to say, don’t you?”

“Can I take you to your bedroom?,” he queries gingerly as he gazes lovingly into yours eyes. You bite your lip in doubt but you’ve already given your heart to Sebastian a long time ago, so the choice will never be yours to begin with.

He carries you bridal style to the bedroom, shedding himself of his shoes, trousers, jacket and shirt before crawling onto the bed and joining you underneath the covers. You hadn’t even bothered to take off any of your clothes, because it’s not that kind of intimacy you’re both looking for.

What Sebastian and you have always sought in a significant other, it’s that unbreakable emotional connection that transcends anything physical. Not just plain, sexual desire but a deeper skin contact.

His hands dip underneath your shirt, his sweaty palms providing the necessary warmth you’ve been craving for all this time. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should’ve paid more attention to you. I should’ve seen how you were feeling. I should’ve been there to help you.”

Resting your cheek on his broad chest, you hum sadly. “I’m not gonna lie, I was really unhappy, Seb. People would comment online about how sweet you were to take a fat girl to a movie premiere. And the more parties or screenings or other events we attended, the more people would chime in and voice their surprise that you, Sebastian Stan, are still in love with me even though I’m fat.”

“I’m so sorry, baby.” His lips press a chaste kiss to your temple. “I’m so sorry. I can’t apologise enough.”

“It’s not your fault I got fat shamed on the internet, Sebastian.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I should’ve stood up for you…”

“You did defend me, Seb, but the damage had already been done. The worlds keeps on turning, spitting hateful comments at whoever wants to hear them. I was so close to depression I just – I just had to take a step back from everything. But I’m better now. I want you back, Sebastian, but we have to make some changes. Otherwise we’re going to get caught in a hurricane again.”

Sebastian doesn’t believe his ears. “I’ll do anything you ask of me. I will take care of you, I miss you so much. I miss having you around. I miss you so much every single time I lay my eyes on our photo wall. I can’t live without you.”

“We have to communicate more and better,” you state frankly, your voice very clear about what you want and don’t want. “We keep a low profile. No accidental videos posted on Instagram of the two of us. I still can’t believe the whole world saw me do a kissy face.”

“The whole world didn’t see you do a kissy face,” Seb chuckles playfully with a wink. “If the whole world saw you do a kissy face, then the whole world saw just how much I love you.”

“Sebastian…,” you whine quietly at his attempt to light that same flame again. But the wildfire between you never really died down because this kind of love cannot be contained.

“We’ll talk more. We’ll talk every day until you’re sick and tired of my voice. No more impromptu Instagram posts. Like I said, Y/N, I will do anything and everything. I love you.”

You know he means it and as you look into his eyes, you have to admit to yourself it’ll always be Sebastian, no matter what he looks like. “How long are you supposed to keep the blond hair?”

“Not that long anymore. Filming is almost over. Why?”

You run a hand through his hair, chuckling at the golden shine. “It’s just – it makes you look younger.”

His chest rumbles with hearty laughter. “I’m 35, love. That’s still young.” During a short pause, Seb pulls you on top of him, his arms tightly around your waist. “But old enough to make a serious commitment.”

“What do you mean?,” you pipe up as your brows knit together in thought, your lips pecking the tip of his nose as your mind mulls over his intentions.

“Y/N,” the actor exhales with a nervous chuckle, eyeing the woman in his arms lovingly, “Please move back in with me.”

Tagging: @avengerofyourheart @a-little-hell-to-raise @marvelingatthewonder @mrshopkirk @hardcorehippos @knittingknerdy @winterboobaer @italwaysendsinafightt @viollettes @hymnofthevalkyrie @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @austinamelio @volklana @howlingbarnes @themcuhasruinedme @theoneandonlysaucymo @caplansteverogers @amrita31199 @emilyevanston @minervaem @howlingbarnes @buchananbarnestrash @youandb @you-and-bucky @fvckingsteverogers @thatawkwardtinyperson @barnes-heaven @that-sokovian-bastard @abovethesmokestacks @marvelrevival @marvel-fanfiction @justanotherbuckydevotee @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @captnbarnesrogers @its-not-a-phase-hux @melconnor2007 @ivvitm1109 @toofuckinfabulous @ailynalonso15 @hollycornish @delicatecapnerd @camigt1999 @learisa @curlyexpat @palaiasaurus64 @fanndas-snow-goddess @crisssivonne @yourenotrogers @tomhollandzs @supernaturaldean65 @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep @aletheladyinred @sniktlogan @xbergiex @reniescarlett @promarvelfangirl @capbuckybuchanan @lovemarvelousfics @yknott81 @rrwilson66 @pegasusdragontiger @salty-holographic-stickers @sammyissassy @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @kudosia @bellejeunefillesansmerci @lumelgy @mizzzpink @southernbellestatues @daringtodreamawake @neurotic-narwhal @cokamarie24 @blue1928 @movingonto-betterthings @breezy1415 @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @jesspfly @weenie-butt @debzybrazy @fuckingchaotic  @always-an-evans-addict @petersunderroos  @thegreentgirl @nedthegay @eve1978

Tag list for all plus size stories: @suz-123 @kiwi71281 @whatisaheroanyway @ilovebeingjoyful @veronicalei @meganlane84 @thescarsweleave @isaxhorror @pleasantdreamqueen @georgiadean37 @revlismoriarty @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @evyiione @salamander-falls @taylorjacksonandtheolympians @jughead-wuz-here @jasmineladjevardi @sonofadeanwinchester @3dsaunt @marvel-at-bucky @nothin-after-79 @sexy-sea-basss @shesmade0fcandy @wtfisalltherandoms @mrs-dr-strange @disneymarina @secondsandstars @brandybucky @metal-armed-dino@amethyst09 @sydsmut @princess76179 @marvelsdaughter @spideynygma  @beautifulbri26 @allyp1023

[danfanciesphil]

Okay, I had this idea but I cANT WRITE SO hi,, a fic where dnp watch a horror movie and it really scares Dan and he can’t sleep so he gets up and goes to Phil’s room for comfort (you can choose the rest eheh)

loving that my followers are getting into the spoopy mindset in the first week of october, kudos. 

Enjoy! x

Come on, it’s Halloween, Dan! 

Phil’s words cartwheel through Dan’s mind, taunting him. Why does he ever listen to the prat? 

Scary movies on Halloween is the law. 

Dan had tried to protest. He had. There are times where a horror film seems like a fun, laughable activity to pass the time. In the middle of the day, for example, when the bright sunshine outside won’t fade for hours and hours, meaning that by the time it gets dark, Dan will have forgotten all about the gore and the jumpscares. 

A horror film late on Halloween night, however, is another matter entirely. It’s not that Dan doesn’t enjoy horror films. He appreciates them for what they are - an art form in their own right, a highly underrated genre that deserves more recognition. 

So, because he didn’t want to sound like a nutcase afraid of his own shadow, and because all his and Phil’s friends were watching him, Dan had surrendered. 

They’d watched The Grudge - a Phil-pick, obviously, as it stars his beloved waifu - and then Paranormal Activity, the first one. 

These two films in themselves hadn’t been that bad, even. Dan has seen them both before multiple times, so he figured he might be okay. But then someone, PJ, Dan thinks, suggested Guillermo Del Toro’s The Orphanage, which Dan had not seen before tonight. 

Why are foreign language horror films so much more terrifying? Perhaps the subtitles force you to look at the screen instead of hiding behind your hands. 

Or maybe Dan is just a wuss. 

So now, Dan is laid in his bed, his lamp still on. He’s been flat on his back, every limb securely beneath the covers, for what must be an hour now, maybe longer. 

He’s frozen, rigor mortis having set in prematurely as he lays in the dark, at 3am, waiting to be murdered by Tomas, a deformed little ghost boy with a sack on his head. 

This is all fucking Phil’s fault. 

The more Dan thinks about his predicament, the more he thinks Phil should really be the one to pay the price for it. After all, he himself looked a little pale after finally switching the TV off once The Orphanage had ended. In fact, as people began to file out of their door, they seemed a little shaken. Dan remembers, as he waved goodbye, that he really, really didn’t envy them, heading off separately into the wee hours on Halloween night. 

So yeah, Phil should definitely feel bad about traumatising everyone. If anyone should be punished for bringing on this post-horror film anxiety, especially when he knows Dan gets scared, it’s Phil. 

Dan thinks about it for around five minutes longer, trying and trying to summon an ounce of courage from the base of whatever flimsy noodle has replaced his spine. 

Then, resisting the urge to scream in terror, Dan throws the covers off himself, and jumps off the bed, bolting to his bedroom door so fast he’s a little shocked at his agility. 

He yanks the door open and runs through, then sprints over into Phil’s room, closing the door behind him before leaping onto the bed. 

Phil immediately yelps in fear, which makes Dan scream in return. They both cower from one another, petrified and confused, and then Phil flicks on his bedside light. 

He has no glasses on, and he’s squinting. His hair is sticking up every which way, but he has his hand out in a karate chop stance, as though his plan were to battle an intruder with his kung-fu skills from beneath the duvet. 

“Dan?” Phil asks after he’s registered what’s going on. He’s breathing heavily, clearly still panicked. “What’s going on? What are you-?”

“I’m sleeping in here.” Dan tells him crossly, shoving his legs under the covers and shuffling down. “Don’t try and argue with me.” 

Phil stares at him. Dan can practically hear the cogs whirring in his brain as he attempts to process what’s going on. 

Then, a smile breaks across Phil’s soft, pink mouth. He shuffles down to lie beside Dan, staring at him amusedly from the other pillow. 

Dan scowls in return. 

“You’re scared.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“You know, I swear I thought I saw some long black hair peeking out from under that pillow…”

“I fucking hate you.” 

“You��re right, nothing will yank you out of bed and down the hall.” Phil smiles sweetly. “Well, probably.” 

Dan hits him multiple times in the shoulder, making Phil laugh. “You’re such a dick! You knew I’d get scared!” 

“Ow!” Phil chuckles, seizing hold of his wrist to stop him. “Look-”

“How many times have I told you that I can’t watch horror films before bed?” Dan demands accusatorially. “The way I see it, you’re the one that got me in a state, so you’re the one who has to deal with my insane paranoia.”

Phil tries to look ashamed, but he’s still smiling. Dan growls, turning over so he’s facing the other way. Of course, this means he’s facing the dark void of Phil’s unlit bedroom, but that can’t be helped right now. 

He shuts his eyes so he doesn’t torture himself with picking shapes out of the shadows. 

“I’m a bed hog, by the way.” Dan bites out. “Not sorry.” 

“You act like I don’t know that already.” 

This catches Dan off guard, and he opens his eyes for a moment, forgetting the darkness swarming from all sides. 

“We haven’t shared a bed in years.” 

“Did you ever consider that maybe I had an ulterior motive, plying you with horror films tonight?”

A shiver cascades over Dan’s body, rippling goosbumps into his skin. This time, they aren’t born of fear. He turns, slowly, flipping over to face Phil again. 

He eyes the older man with suspicion. “You mean to tell me… that you knew if I was scared enough, I’d…”

“Crawl into bed with me?” Phil supplies, still smirking with amusement. “I might have remembered that’s something you used to do after our scary film nights way back when.” 

Dan’s mouth falls open, indignant. “You manipulated me.”

Phil nods happily, seeming completely unconcerned by this. “I wanted to cuddle you.” He pauses, flushing slightly. “I’ve wanted to for ages, actually.”

The information passes over Dan, seeping into his skin, rushing through his blood. It doesn’t seem real. Perhaps this is all a strange, adrenaline-induced dream. 

Partly to be sure it isn’t, and partly because Phil is still a fucking dick, Dan hits him in the shoulder again. 

“You could’ve just asked me!” 

“I thought you might find it weird.” Phil confesses, shrugging. “This was way more likely to work.” 

Dan reddens, hating his own predictable nature. He shifts and scowls, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out at Phil like a child. 

“Fat chance,” he mumbles. “No way I’m cuddling someone who tortures me with my worst fears just to get me into bed.”

Phil doesn’t say anything, so Dan looks into his face, suspicious. Phil is staring at something over Dan’s shoulder, eyes wide and unblinking. 

“Dan, is that… Tomas?” 

Dan shoots forwards into Phil’s arms so fast it almost winds them both. Phil laughs for what seems like fifty years, not letting Dan wriggle out of his grasp, so Dan does the only thing he can think of to shut Phil up. 

When he draws back from the kiss, he notices goosebumps along Phil’s arms. 

[lightninglaces]

Take a Sip

Approximately 350 hours ago

It’s never a good idea to drive when your emotions are running amok, but sometimes it can’t be helped. At this particular moment in time, Charlotte Netter probably shouldn’t have been behind the wheel, but it’s not like she really had a choice. Abandoning a night in with her best friends to go see her father never ended well, but as the clock ticked closer and closer to midnight on a Thursday, she knew that leaving him to stumble his way home would just leave her feeling guilty.

She’d done it before, shut him down before the phone call could even really get going, left him to his own devices. Only once. It hadn’t ended well to say the least, and just remembering it left a bad taste in her mouth. It’d been everything she been taught not to do- abandon her family just because she wanted to avoid her problems. After everything littering their history, she had thought it’d be easy to get over, but there were still moments when she could see the betrayal on his face afterwards as clearly as if he was standing in front of her. Since then his random calls have met little to no resistance from Charlie, as she reminds herself that the calls happen so infrequently and he somehow always manages to do it on a night when she’s up late.

This particular Thursday, Em had tried to convince her to just call a cab for him, but Sasha had given Charlie one of those all-knowing looks. Sasha was particularly good at giving those without making you feel like you were being judged. So Em just groaned as Charlie slipped her shoes on and grabbed her keys, calling out a threat to eat all of the dessert if she wasn’t back soon. Charlie’s only response was to shut the door, though she could hear Sasha scolding their other roommate through the open window. She’d stayed to listen to this conversation before, and found that hearing the two closest people in her life had differing opinions on how to handle her family life was also best kept a one-time experience.

It’s not entirely common for people who live within the bounds of New York City to have cars, much less a license. So, while Charlie is in the minority in that regard, she prefers to use public transportation or catch a cab. For late night trips like this, where she often needed a separation between herself and the world, the costs of vehicle upkeep were worth it. This was particularly true when she was going long distances. Tonight’s trip was to the bar her father called from, to his apartment, and then back home. She’d be lucky if she was home in less than an hour.

(Drug abuse/alcoholism tw for content under the cut)

As she parked outside a bar she’d never seen before, she wondered how many new places her father could find and drag her to before they just stopped letting him in. With a sigh, she pushed the door open, glad that at least this time Jeremy Netter’s venue of choice didn’t smell of cheap booze and vomit. It wasn’t hard to find the man within the building after the bouncer waved her into the building without a cover charge. It wasn’t a good sign, but it made at least this small part of her task easier. Blinking a couple times to adjust to the low lights and flickering strobe, gave her snapshots of the room. Seven or eight benches around the perimeter, mostly empty, but everyone there was grouped up. A raised dancefloor was packed full. A few people were sitting at the bar itself, the rest preferring to crowd around tall tables and the speakers pulsing lowly opposite the wall of shelved bottles. Habit drew her to the bar, as her father preferred two things on his nights out: drinks he didn’t have to make himself, and solitude.

The bartender had clearly seen the shift in her posture upon identifying the man in front of him, Charlie could see the apology in his eyes even as her father tipped his glass the final bit back. The turn of his head when she tapped on his shoulder weaved enough for her to know that he’d been here for a while, and the blending of his words worked only to confirm the fact. He crowed to everyone nearby that he knew she would come for him. That she was the most wonderful daughter- just like her mother. It took all her control to grit her teeth and smile apologetically at the other patrons of the bar before paying his tab and ushering him out of the building.

Just out of the line of sight of the door, she turned to straighten out his jacket, soothing words assuring him that of course she wasn’t angry, until he wasn’t quite so apparently drunk. A fresh-faced man in a suit had walked up as she took his arm to lead him to the car. He seemed concerned for Jeremy’s health and while Charlie was inwardly cursing her failed attempt to protect his reputation from strangers, her father was instantly taken with the friendly new face. Both reactions were only amplified when the stranger claimed he had a new tonic water that would lessen the effects of a night on the town- specifically that it worked wonders by preventing hangovers entirely.

Of course, fifteen minutes into their conversation, the stranger made it known that this “miracle” water was expensive as hell, and though Charlie tried to deny the stranger and steer her father away, they both insisted that it was at least worth a try. Overcome by sleep deprivation, the pressure from both sides, and her own despair at the situation, Charlie fished a bill out of her pocket and slapped it into the grinning, still unnamed, stranger’s hand as her father cheerfully bounced away with a bottle. The bitterness of her tone was clear as she thanked the man for his timely consideration, and got only a sneer in reply as he dashed off after another departing bargoer.

By the time she’d caught up with her father, he’d abandoned trying to open the bottle in favor of talking very loudly to absolutely no one about how special and perfect and kind his daughter was, how she would never abandon him. It took another seven minutes to quiet him enough to lead him to the car and several more to get him actually in it. When the passenger door finally closed, cutting off her father’s incessant babbling, Charlie allowed herself a sigh and couldn’t help resting her forehead on the roof of the car. Looking down at the bottle in her hand, she couldn’t tell if it was sadness or anger welling up to prick at the backs of her eyes.

Blinking rapidly as she tilted her head back, she took a breath so deep her ribs hurt. Slowly pacing around the car to her own door, she quietly settled in, placing the glass in a cup holder and her purse in the back. Headlights pushing into the darkness, she drove through the city that never sleeps with her father’s voice as music.

Of course, it could never end easily. Once she’d gotten him to his apartment, he became frustrated that she wouldn’t stay the night. Complaining that he never got to see her anymore, he muttered that she must not really care and slammed the car door on her response. Having experienced this before as well, Charlie knew better than to go after him, he’d simply guilt trip her into whatever he wanted, and she needed to go to work in the morning. Head resting against the steering wheel, she waited until he’d managed to stumble up the stairs and gotten into the apartment to start on her way home. By the time she got there, Em and Sasha had both gone to bed, so the silence practically echoed as she put herself to bed, drained to her core and crashing as her head hit the pillow.

Thankfully the next few days passed without incident, as Fridays were usually calm at the bank. The weekend itself was slower than usual, with only her morning runs dragging Charlie out of the house. Em was delighted of course, Charlie’s lack of plans meant the trio could finally have the classic horror movie marathon they’d been pushing for months. Sasha demanded to sit in the middle and made a point to jump in Em’s direction, if the movie fanatic caught an elbow to the ribs three or four times, it was their own fault for making them watch this crap.

Unfortunately, peace has never lasted long in the life of Charlie Netter. She awoke Monday morning to find her building’s generator had shorted in the night, and her phone had died, leaving her late and without a way to contact the office. Sasha chuckled as she skidded into, and promptly back out of, the kitchen. Sasha’s grin was still audible as she called out that Em had already left, but that she was working from home. The regular banter helped Charlie breathe easy as she grabbed all her things and called out her goodbye. Of course, the bad luck had to continue, as she rounded the corner of her building, her bus passed. Gaping, she checked her watch and groaned as she realized she’d have to drive.

Driving to work always meant Charlie would be late. There was no employee parking, so the best she could usually find was at least three blocks away, and there was always traffic to take up even more time. Resigning herself to a twenty-minute apology and explanation session with her boss, she settled in for the drive. She reasoned with herself that it wasn’t all bad, now she could charge her phone on the way there. Skipping through radio stations and humming along to songs she knew, Charlie realized she’d left her trusted hydroflask on her bedside table. Groaning, she reached for her phone to ask Sasha to bring it by when she bumped the glass bottle she’d completely forgotten. Another ten minutes of debate with herself later, she decided not to impose on her friend and instead make use of her purchase. It’s just water, she told herself, what else was she supposed to do with it?

Somehow, Charlie made it through one of the worst Mondays since she’d started at the bank. Tellers misfiled new account papers, lenders mixed credit reports, and this particular Monday was as busy as the beginning of the month was infamous for being. Despite the insanity at the beginning of the week, her life appeared to have settled back into the routine her father had interrupted.

The only difference seemed to be that her daily life was filled with static. She shocked herself constantly, hair on end throughout the day, her radio couldn’t seem to find a signal, and she could barely hold a conversation over the phone. A week later, every card in her wallet demagnetized, leaving her dumbfounded in the train station as she had to pay cash for a new commuter card.

Of course, what Charlie doesn’t know, if that this is only the starting line.