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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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How plausible sentence generators are changing the bullshit wars

This Friday (September 8) at 10hPT/17hUK, I'm livestreaming "How To Dismantle the Internet" with Intelligence Squared.

On September 12 at 7pm, I'll be at Toronto's Another Story Bookshop with my new book The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.

In my latest Locus Magazine column, "Plausible Sentence Generators," I describe how I unwittingly came to use – and even be impressed by – an AI chatbot – and what this means for a specialized, highly salient form of writing, namely, "bullshit":

https://locusmag.com/2023/09/commentary-by-cory-doctorow-plausible-sentence-generators/

Here's what happened: I got stranded at JFK due to heavy weather and an air-traffic control tower fire that locked down every westbound flight on the east coast. The American Airlines agent told me to try going standby the next morning, and advised that if I booked a hotel and saved my taxi receipts, I would get reimbursed when I got home to LA.

But when I got home, the airline's reps told me they would absolutely not reimburse me, that this was their policy, and they didn't care that their representative had promised they'd make me whole. This was so frustrating that I decided to take the airline to small claims court: I'm no lawyer, but I know that a contract takes place when an offer is made and accepted, and so I had a contract, and AA was violating it, and stiffing me for over $400.

The problem was that I didn't know anything about filing a small claim. I've been ripped off by lots of large American businesses, but none had pissed me off enough to sue – until American broke its contract with me.

So I googled it. I found a website that gave step-by-step instructions, starting with sending a "final demand" letter to the airline's business office. They offered to help me write the letter, and so I clicked and I typed and I wrote a pretty stern legal letter.

Now, I'm not a lawyer, but I have worked for a campaigning law-firm for over 20 years, and I've spent the same amount of time writing about the sins of the rich and powerful. I've seen a lot of threats, both those received by our clients and sent to me.

I've been threatened by everyone from Gwyneth Paltrow to Ralph Lauren to the Sacklers. I've been threatened by lawyers representing the billionaire who owned NSOG roup, the notoroious cyber arms-dealer. I even got a series of vicious, baseless threats from lawyers representing LAX's private terminal.

So I know a thing or two about writing a legal threat! I gave it a good effort and then submitted the form, and got a message asking me to wait for a minute or two. A couple minutes later, the form returned a new version of my letter, expanded and augmented. Now, my letter was a little scary – but this version was bowel-looseningly terrifying.

I had unwittingly used a chatbot. The website had fed my letter to a Large Language Model, likely ChatGPT, with a prompt like, "Make this into an aggressive, bullying legal threat." The chatbot obliged.

I don't think much of LLMs. After you get past the initial party trick of getting something like, "instructions for removing a grilled-cheese sandwich from a VCR in the style of the King James Bible," the novelty wears thin:

https://www.emergentmind.com/posts/write-a-biblical-verse-in-the-style-of-the-king-james

Yes, science fiction magazines are inundated with LLM-written short stories, but the problem there isn't merely the overwhelming quantity of machine-generated stories – it's also that they suck. They're bad stories:

https://www.npr.org/2023/02/24/1159286436/ai-chatbot-chatgpt-magazine-clarkesworld-artificial-intelligence

LLMs generate naturalistic prose. This is an impressive technical feat, and the details are genuinely fascinating. This series by Ben Levinstein is a must-read peek under the hood:

https://benlevinstein.substack.com/p/how-to-think-about-large-language

But "naturalistic prose" isn't necessarily good prose. A lot of naturalistic language is awful. In particular, legal documents are fucking terrible. Lawyers affect a stilted, stylized language that is both officious and obfuscated.

The LLM I accidentally used to rewrite my legal threat transmuted my own prose into something that reads like it was written by a $600/hour paralegal working for a $1500/hour partner at a white-show law-firm. As such, it sends a signal: "The person who commissioned this letter is so angry at you that they are willing to spend $600 to get you to cough up the $400 you owe them. Moreover, they are so well-resourced that they can afford to pursue this claim beyond any rational economic basis."

Let's be clear here: these kinds of lawyer letters aren't good writing; they're a highly specific form of bad writing. The point of this letter isn't to parse the text, it's to send a signal. If the letter was well-written, it wouldn't send the right signal. For the letter to work, it has to read like it was written by someone whose prose-sense was irreparably damaged by a legal education.

Here's the thing: the fact that an LLM can manufacture this once-expensive signal for free means that the signal's meaning will shortly change, forever. Once companies realize that this kind of letter can be generated on demand, it will cease to mean, "You are dealing with a furious, vindictive rich person." It will come to mean, "You are dealing with someone who knows how to type 'generate legal threat' into a search box."

Legal threat letters are in a class of language formally called "bullshit":

https://press.princeton.edu/books/hardcover/9780691122946/on-bullshit

LLMs may not be good at generating science fiction short stories, but they're excellent at generating bullshit. For example, a university prof friend of mine admits that they and all their colleagues are now writing grad student recommendation letters by feeding a few bullet points to an LLM, which inflates them with bullshit, adding puffery to swell those bullet points into lengthy paragraphs.

Naturally, the next stage is that profs on the receiving end of these recommendation letters will ask another LLM to summarize them by reducing them to a few bullet points. This is next-level bullshit: a few easily-grasped points are turned into a florid sheet of nonsense, which is then reconverted into a few bullet-points again, though these may only be tangentially related to the original.

What comes next? The reference letter becomes a useless signal. It goes from being a thing that a prof has to really believe in you to produce, whose mere existence is thus significant, to a thing that can be produced with the click of a button, and then it signifies nothing.

We've been through this before. It used to be that sending a letter to your legislative representative meant a lot. Then, automated internet forms produced by activists like me made it far easier to send those letters and lawmakers stopped taking them so seriously. So we created automatic dialers to let you phone your lawmakers, this being another once-powerful signal. Lowering the cost of making the phone call inevitably made the phone call mean less.

Today, we are in a war over signals. The actors and writers who've trudged through the heat-dome up and down the sidewalks in front of the studios in my neighborhood are sending a very powerful signal. The fact that they're fighting to prevent their industry from being enshittified by plausible sentence generators that can produce bullshit on demand makes their fight especially important.

Chatbots are the nuclear weapons of the bullshit wars. Want to generate 2,000 words of nonsense about "the first time I ate an egg," to run overtop of an omelet recipe you're hoping to make the number one Google result? ChatGPT has you covered. Want to generate fake complaints or fake positive reviews? The Stochastic Parrot will produce 'em all day long.

As I wrote for Locus: "None of this prose is good, none of it is really socially useful, but there’s demand for it. Ironically, the more bullshit there is, the more bullshit filters there are, and this requires still more bullshit to overcome it."

Meanwhile, AA still hasn't answered my letter, and to be honest, I'm so sick of bullshit I can't be bothered to sue them anymore. I suppose that's what they were counting on.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/07/govern-yourself-accordingly/#robolawyers

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #chatbots #plausible sentence generators #robot lawyers #robolawyers #ai #ml #machine learning #artificial intelligence #stochastic parrots #bullshit #bullshit generators #the bullshit wars #llms #large language models #writing #Ben Levinstein

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often-daydreaming · 6 months ago

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Road Trip

It was... It was always just a fight but the last one between Jason and Bruce had been one of their worst and things only escalated after he accused Jason of having something to do with the Joker's disappearance.

It was another thing to hold against him. Another excuse to keep the Red Hood at arms length but Barbara knows Jason wasn't anywhere near Gotham when the clown went missing. Bruce checked. Tim double checked, but she knows because it wasn't like Jason was even trying to hide from any of them.

He was just traveling.

At first it was with the rest of the Outlaws for a bit and on and off after for a while afterwards with the rest of his team joining up at different points along his trip across the country.

He'd spent weeks spent on the road from New York to Pennsylvania before anyone even noticed the Joker was gone, then took a detour down to Atlanta and through Kentucky. The weekend after that was spent traveling between Michigan and Toronto and a surprising sighting in Kansas which was one of the only stops she still didn't understand since he'd have to be traveling all night just to get to that small town he'd been spotted in and Jason didn't seem to be in any hurry.

A part of her had been tempted to call Kara and see if she'd look into the matter for her but cases kept piling up and they got busy. If it wasn't the usual villain of the day causing trouble then it was the power vacuum left behind by the still missing Joker or one the guys getting into trouble. So she left it alone.

Jason didn't seem like he was in any trouble. He'd come back sooner or later. He always came back. Except he didn't. Weeks turned into months, then a full year passed them by as sightings of the Red Hood grew less and less frequent and it was only a preemptive notification she sat up so long ago that reminded her of Jason's absence as she stares down at the computer monitor playing a few seconds of footage displaying a small crowd of people, the Outlaws, some of Young Justice and the Titans along with a few other people who were cheering him on as he slipped a ring on some red haired woman's finger. The context was clear enough but she didn't find out more about the what and why until later that night when Roy sent out an update to the rest of the Titans claiming dibs on being the best man.

The above is just something that I cobbled together after reading a few Jason leaves Gotham fics and the thought of Jazz killing the Joker for (insert reasons) so my mind kind of jumped to Jason living out his best Cinderella moment, chasing after, flirting (along with getting threatened by a pair of overprotective parents) and road tripping with his team while trying to find the woman who lost her bloody baseball bat. After they meet he's just doubling down on everything with the intent of marrying her, Jazz getting her own little road trip, telling Jason where they're going next or even making a game out of if he can find her at the next stop on the Fenton family supernatural hunting/cataloging road trip cause I know they love talking about ghost but the image of Jack and Maddie fighting Bigfoot is amazing.

And the Fentons are happy for the two of them. At least he wasn't another Johnny. They had Tucker check just to be sure while everyone else just kind of assumes the rest of the bat family already knew when it was actually a mix of (we're super busy right now) and (maybe things will be a little peaceful if we give Jason some space) leaving Bruce trying to play catch up and depending on if he's reformed having to outdo Vlad who is already paying for everything.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt

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countingnothings · 2 years ago

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this is so funny to me as the 13th of 21 grandchildren of a woman who repeatedly and on the record said “if I had known how much fun grandchildren would be, I would have had them first”

capitalistic individualism has rotted yall's brains

#also funny to me as someone who knows that in most cultures across most of human history multi-generational households were the default #sure 'date night' wasn't a thing (or maybe it was I'm not an expert in historical romantic practices)#but this idea of the 'nuclear family' is both very recent and like demonstrably detrimental for all the generations involved #my paternal grandmother was one of my best friends #my maternal grandmother and i are very close #these are bi-directional relationships that blossomed as i got older #but started with reading me stories and making me hot chocolate with marshmallows and letting me stay up late with them #to watch a movie or do a crossword or knit #in the last decade of my paternal grandmother's life i went to her house every six weeks and she kept me company in the kitchen #while i cooked her six weeks' worth of her favourite foods for her freezer #every time we ate cookies for breakfast during a sleepover or she picked me up from an activity #she was investing in a relationship with me that wasn't replacing my parental relationships #but was its own beautiful growing and changing thing #when i lived in toronto my maternal grandmother picked me up once a week to go to bible study at her church and then take me for lunch #when i make my big preserve spreadsheet every fall she is the first to claim a jar of almost everything #every time i pack a jar for her i remember being six and having a sore tummy and falling asleep on her lap #i am so happy that my parents involved my grandmothers in my life #and i know - because they have told me!! - that they are happy to have relationships with me too #(well mixed tenses there because only one is still alive but the point stands)#a small price for my grandmother alive again in my mind #GPOY #this got long but grandmas are important you guys and i love mine a lot

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girlactionfigure · 6 months ago

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THURSDAY HERO: Faye Schulman

Faye Schulman was a young Jewish photographer in Poland who became a resistance fighter after her family was slaughtered by the Germans. For the next two years, she took pictures of what she witnessed, leaving an extensive photographic record for posterity.

Born Faigel Lazebnik in 1919, she was one of seven children in an Orthodox Jewish family in Lenin, a small village in Poland. Known as Faye, she learned four languages: Yiddish at home, Polish at school, Hebrew in religious school, and Russian among the non-Jewish townspeople. Her brother Moshe was a professional photographer and she worked as his assistant, developing a keen eye and a talent for photography. When Moshe moved to another town, Faigel took over his business.

After the Germans invaded Lenin in 1941, they forced the town’s Jews into a squalid ghetto. On August 14, 1942, the Nazis “liquidated” the Lenin ghetto by brutally murdering 1,850 Jews, including Faye’s parents, sisters, and brother. Only 26 Jews were spared because the Nazis could make use of their skills. Faye was ordered to develop photographs of the massacre that claimed the lives of her family as well as almost everyone she knew. She secretly made extra copies of the pictures and kept them to bear testimony to Nazi crimes against humanity.

Soon after, Faye escaped from the Nazis and joined the Molotava Brigade, a group of Russian resistance fighters in the forest of Belarus. She said, “This was the only way I could fight back and avenge my family.” They were known as “partisans” – an insurgent militia group opposing an occupation army. Despite rampant antisemitism in the group, she was allowed to join because she had some basic medical skills learned from her late brother-in-law, who had been a doctor in Lenin. Faye became the group’s nurse, serving alongside the resident doctor, a veterinarian. For almost two years, Faye dressed fighters’ wounds and did whatever she could for sick and injured fighters, despite a lack of medical equipment. She participated in armed raids, later remembering “When it was time to be hugging a boyfriend, I was hugging a rifle. Now I said to myself, my life is changed. I learned how to look after the wounded, I even learned how to make operations.”

Faye’s partisan brigade raided her hometown of Lenin, during which the resistance fighters acquired food, weapons and supplies. As they passed her childhood home, Faye urged her fellow partisans to burn it to the ground, which they did. “I won’t be living here. The family’s killed. To leave it for the enemy? I said right away: Burn it!”

Faye found her old photographic equipment, and brought it back to their forest encampment. For the next two years, Faye documented the dangerous existence of anti-Nazi partisans. It was vitally important to her because as she later said, “I want people to know that there was resistance. Jews did not go like sheep to the slaughter. I was a photographer. I have pictures. I have proof.”

Faye’s resistance group was liberated by the Soviets in July 1944. After the war ended, she was overjoyed to find that her brother Moshe had also survived and had been part of another resistance group. Faye and Moshe were the only survivors of their family of nine. Soon after Faye married Morris Schulman, who’d fought alongside Moshe. They decided to make a new life in Palestine, then occupied by the British, who made it difficult if not impossible for war-scarred Holocaust survivors to enter the land. For two years the Schulmans were stuck in a displaced persons camp in Germany, waiting for the opportunity to immigrate. They helped smuggle arms into Palestine to support the Jews fighting for independence. In 1947 Faye became pregnant, and they needed someplace safe to live. They were able to get visas to Canada, and settled in Toronto, where they ran a family business and raised two children. In 1995, Faye published a book about her experience as an anti-Nazi resistance fighter: “A Partisan’s Memoir: Woman of the Holocaust.”

Faye died on April 24, 2021, surrounded by her family, at age 101. Sadly, the last few years of her life saw an upsurge of antisemitism worldwide. Faye left an inspiring message for young people today: “To Jewish kids I would like to say – be proud to be Jewish. To non-Jewish kids I would like to say – if there is a war and you have to fight, fight for freedom and don’t be ashamed to be in the army.”

For saving lives, battling Nazis, and leaving a photographic record so the horrors of the Holocaust would not be forgotten, we honor Faye Lazebnik Schulman as this week’s Thursday Hero.

#Thursday Hero 🎖️

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dinsdjrn · 2 years ago

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gone, from austin | j. miller | part one

pre-outbreak!Joel x f!reader

18+, a brother's best friend story

summary: Joel Miller: the one that got away; right person, wrong time. Now you’re back in Austin and it hurts just as bad, as if you’d never left five years ago

wc: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, no use of y/n, Sarah is alive and well, female reader, young!joel is an assshole (but not rlly), brothers best friend, ex-lovers to lovers (eventually), f! mc has unresolved trauma, implied cheating (not joel), slow burn, eventual smut, angsty at first, proof-read but i have not a clue what im doing. let me know if i missed anything <3

💌 a/n: not new to fic, but it's been a hot minute so please be kind <3 i am very nervous to post this but i'm posting it for me to share my joy and daydreaming with you. If youd like to be added to a tag list when i update lmk <3

next part | masterlist

Part One | April 2002

“I’ve gotta heal myself from all the things I’ve never felt”

Life is disappointing. Accepting that aspirations and dreams aren’t the reality you face, it’s hard. Sometimes it’s even harder to accept that things can fall apart in the blink of an eye; you just have to move on. You are someone who things didn’t work out for and you understood that now. It was painful, numbing, and deserved; where ever you went destruction was sure to follow.

You’ve accepted that in the blink of an eye your life had fallen apart once again. That was a given. What was unexpected was returning to the town that built you up and broke your heart. When you moved to Toronto, you swore you were done with Austin. Yet, here you were, stepping on the escalator at Austin airport your entire life in a few bags waiting at the carousel bay below.

As you descended, the baggage claim came into view so did your twin brother with a massive “Welcome Home!” poster board that had your name on it.

A smile couldn’t help but spread over your features, as defeated as you felt, your brother always knew how to make you smile.

“Hey, I’ve missed you,” you say as your brother wraps you in a massive bear hug.

“I’ve missed you too,” relief present in his voice.

The buzzer on the baggage carousel sounded which pulled you from the hug that you didn’t know you needed.

“I’ll get my bags and then we can be on our way,”

Your bags came a few minutes later, you and your brother each took one.

As you stepped into the car, a silence fell between you, neither really knowing what to say. You hadn’t been home in years and there was a sinking in your chest and darkness dawned on you. The past few days had been a whirlwind of anguish, it was dizzying how rushed you were to leave your life in Toronto. Nothing had time to sink in, until now, until you were back feeling the exact same heartbreak that pushed you to leave. You felt as if you had taken one step forward and three steps back.

The car was quiet, Jake clearly didn’t know what to say, and you clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

“Thanks for letting me stay with you and Kels,” you said after about ten minutes of brutal silence, “I promise it’s temporary, once I’m back on my feet I’ll be out of your hair.”

“No worries, you can stay as long as you’d like, you know,”

Staying was never your plan. Austin may have been home once, but that was was a long time ago. The reasons you left may not outweigh the reason you came back, but this wasn’t long term. Too much pain wrapped your heart like a brick wall to stay for very long. That wall was taken apart piece by piece over the past over the past five years and put back up so quickly in the last thirty-six hours.

“Thanks,” you forced a small smile on your face.

More silence. More time alone with yourself, more time to believe that you deserved this pain, these hardships.

What did I do to make things fall apart? I thought we were happy. I thought I was building my life. You thought to yourself.

“So I should let you know,” Jake started pulling you from your thoughts, “the Stars made it to the playoffs and I’ve invited Tommy, Joel and Sarah over to watch the game tonight.”

Joel. You thought to yourself. You knew he’d be unavoidable, but you didn’t think it would be an immediate turnaround, close proximity, kind of deal. Maybe a wave from the driveway or neighbourhood cookout first, but you guessed wrong.

“Oh.”

“Look I know it’s,” he paused “Complicated for you right now, but being with familiar people might be good for you.”

“Always the therapist,” you scoffed.

It might be good for you to be near Kelsey, Jake, Tommy and Sarah, but Joel. There was so much history there, so many unresolved questions and feelings. Five years had passed, but the flesh wound he had left on your heart was fresh as the day you had left.

“I’d’ve ended things anyway, darlin’! So you may as well just leave, go to Canada, start over!” The words burned into your skull. They had made it so easy to leave and so hard to come back.

You had never explained to Jake what happened between you and Joel, just that things hadn’t worked out. They hadn’t worked out, but their friendship was more important than simply “not working out”. You insisted your breakup wouldn’t affect their friendship and you were leaving anyways, so what would it matter.

Arriving at your brothers place you were greeted by another bear hug from your sister-in-law, Kelsey. She was kind hearted, gentle, and charismatic, just like Jake. They acted like they were made for another, and maybe they were. You weren’t one to be envious normally, but life didn’t work out for you the way it had for them; so a small twinge at your heart wasn’t out of place.

Though you had known this house like the back of your hand years ago, Amy still showed you to your room. This house had belonged toyour parents in the 80’s, and when they decided to move to Florida full-time they had offered it to your brother to start his family. Kelsey and Jake did a full renovation a few years ago bringing the house into the twenty-first century. It was nice, but it lacked the comfort you had once known.

“Thank you Kels, really, I appreciate everything,” You said to Kelsey when she had returned from getting fresh towels for the ensuite.

“Hey, anything you need. That’s what family’s are for.” She smiled softly at you.

“Are you going to come down for dinner and the game? Jake is so excited that you’re here, and Sarah can’t wait to see you!”

“I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet,” you cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Are you sure it’s not because you’ve been brainwashed to a secret Leaf’s fan?” Kels pointed at you.

You laughed. It surprised you but felt good to laugh things off as if nothing had changed.

“I don’t think I could ever be brainwashed to like hockey, Kels,”

“I hear that sis,” She laughed with you, “I’m just in it for Joel’s wings and the beer honestly.”

“If I remember correctly he makes ‘the best barbecue in Austin’,” you mocked Jake’s tone.

Kelsey leaned on the door and chuckled until you fell into a comfortable silence.

“We’ve all missed you,” She sighed.

“I’ve missed y’all.”

“Y’all!” She exclaimed startling you, “I knew there was still a country girl left in you!”

You rolled your eyes in her direction. You can take the girl out of Texas but you can’t take Texas out of the girl. You’d lost a few of your Texas-isms but there would always be a little twang here and there.

“Join us tonight, please? For me and Jake?” She pressed.

“Oh fine,” you gave in, there were vert few people you could not say no to. Kelsey was one of them, and you’re certain both her and Jake knew that.

“Perfect! Games at 7:30. That gives you about an hour to get settled in.”

Kels then left you to get organized. You had put away some essentials in the bathroom and were going to try and put away some clothes before heading downstairs. Kelsey and Jake had put a new dresser in but had left the knick-knacks and photos you left behind on top. The one that caught your eye was from seven years ago, you and a little girl with the curliest brown hair and biggest smile were sat together on a kayak in the middle of a river. That had been one of the best weekends of your life.

Sarah couldn’t have been more than five years old, she insisted that you come with her and Joel camping. You were exhausted after coming off a string of night shifts at the hospital and fully intended on staying home. You’d told Joel just prior that you would see them as soon as they got back, but how could you say no to Sarah. She had you wrapped around her finger, and she knew it too. So you packed a bag and off you went camping with Sarah and Joel. You were so grateful you had decided to go. Between fun on the lake with Sarah, and stolen midnight kisses by the campfire with Joel, it had been exactly what you needed at the time.

You put the frame face down on the dresser. So much historic pain surrounded your heart being back here in Austin. So much fresh pain surrounded your heart from the events that pushed you back here. It was suffocating, and somehow being alone made it so much worse. You wished that it would subside, leave a dull numbness that was familiar to you. Instead it clenched and twisted in the pit of your stomach, leaving you more nauseated than when you arrived.

You checked the clock and realized that nearly forty-five minutes had passed since you started unpacking. You changed quickly out of your plane clothes into something a little less stale, went to the bathroom and splashed some water on your face before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

“There she is!” Jake exclaimed.

“Feeling better?” Kelsey asked, offering you a Stella.

You accepted the beer with a smile.

“Big time, planes always make me feel like shit,” you laughed.

Just then the doorbell rang and you heard the front door open.

“Put your clothes on kids!” You heard a familiar voice yell.

“Tommy!” Your brother exclaimed and walked out of the kitchen.

“Oh my god!” You heard someone yell, “You’re here!”

You turned around, and the curly haired little girl with the killer smile you once knew, wasn’t so little anymore.

“Hey kiddo!”

She ran up to you throwing her bag next to the island and wrapping her arms around your middle.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here today!”

“It was a bit last minute,” you laughed and squeezed Sarah.

“How long are you here for?” She asked looking up at you.

“We’ll see kiddo. I’ve got a few things to sort out here, so I’ll be around.”

“Oh hey, stranger!” Tommy yelled as he walked into the kitchen carrying a two four of beers.

“Oh hey,” you gave a small wave.

“Nuh-uh Toronto, that’s not how we do thing here. C’mere give me a hug,”

You laughed at and embraced Tommy in a hug. It felt comfortable, like you were with people you had known your whole life at least for the parts that mattered.

You felt like someones eyes were burning into the back of your head when you released Tommy from the friendly embrace. A small cough came from the entrance to the kitchen.

You turned around and felt the wind get knocked out of you. There was Joel in all this glory, he looked older than the last time you had seen him. The lines on his face were a little more prominent and he looked a bit more tired, but god he was attractive. He was tall and lean, but still looked strong and kind. It’s hard to not fall in love with him all over again. But to fall in love with him again, just acts as a reminder that he would leave you so easily again.

“Dad can you believe it?!” Sarah exclaimed, stating she felt like you hadn’t been home in forever.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Jake said, “You’ve rendered this jack ass speechless.”

He slapped his best friend across the shoulder only to receive a small shove back.

“Shut up would ya?” Joel said.

“I don’t know about y’all, but I’m hungry and puck drop is in five minutes,” Kelsey said, promptly changing the subject from you.

Everyone then fell into a comfortable conversation about hockey without you. Tommy and Joel had put out containers of barbecue and everyone was grabbing a plate. You were intensely uncomfortable and felt out a bit out of place.

You insisted everyone grab a plate before you so they didn’t miss out on any of the game. Once everyone had moved to the living room you shakily grabbed a plate of food. Still rattled by the ghosts of your past and events of the past few days you weren’t too hungry, but you knew your brother and he’s be the first to comment you needed to eat something. He was always so worried about you, even when you were thousands of miles away.

You brought your plate to the living room and sat in the only available seat remaining next to Sarah, on the couch.

“So,” Tommy looked at you from the T.V., “is that boyfriend of yours going to be makin’ an appearance?”

Jake shot him a look.

“What?!” He laughed. “Just gotta know when I should avoid coming over is all,” He put his hands up in defense.

“We, uh, we actually broke up not too long ago,” you cleared your throat uncomfortably.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,”

“It’s alright, it was never going to work out anyway. Our lifestyles were too different,” you smiled politely.

Joel refused to even acknowledge the conversation at hand. His eyes were glued to the game and you were grateful for it. After a briefly awkward silence, comfortable conversation fell over the group. You had never felt more at the sidelines, it felt like you were watching these interactions through a window. It was uncomfortable for you, but everyone else, including Joel, was having a great time.

It was getting late when the game had concluded. It had cooled off and gotten dark outside, luckily the Miller’s didn’t have far to go to get home, they were just next door. Joel had bought the house when Sarah was just a baby, he and Jake had hit it off almost immediately. You were still in school at the time, living at home to save money and instantly felt a connection to Joel.

You never acted on you feelings, he had a little kid, you were a broke Med student and he was your brothers best friend. The day things changed was the weekend after your and Jake’s 21st birthday; you all had gone into the city to bar hop, one thing led to another and the Joel Miller had taken you home with him. That night was reckless, it was hot, the line where your individual bodies began and ended had been blurred by intense, drunken, passion for another. There was a danger to your relationship when it started, neither of you wanting Jake to find out, but also neither willing to stop seeing one another.

Eventually, you couldn’t deny your feelings for one another and fell into a very comfortable relationship. You spent five years building a life together. One year dating and getting to know one another. Then, after you had matched in paediatric surgery at St. David’s, you had moved in together. Four more years or figuring out what it meant to date someone with a kid, managing a brutal residency that consisted either nights or 24 hour on call stints. You had thought you were making it work rather well for two people who had no idea what they were doing because at the end of the day at least you knew you loved one another.

Until it all came crashing down. You don’t know what changed, but you were left in the dust with only the shattered pieces of your heart left to pick up after him. It made the decision to move to Canada easy, a no brainer even. It was a fresh start arguably as far away as physically possible from Joel Miller. You thought it would give you time to heal, give you a clean slate. Except, the heart ache never went away, it dulled over the years. There were days it was barely there at all. You had told yourself you moved on countless times. That was until a picture would come to your email of Kelsey and Sarah at the pool, or Jake, Joel, and Tommy at a baseball game, and then it would all come crashing down all over again.

The dull ache was a full on fire in your heart today, you knew it would hurt, seeing them all again. It did hurt, but Jake was right, it was better to be surrounded by others than left alone to wallow in self pity upstairs. The Miller’s started making their goodbyes and you got up to see them out.

“Hey, can we hang out if you’re going to be staying around for a little while? I’ve missed you so much!” Sarah said while giving you a hug goodbye.

“You’d have to ask your Dad, kiddo. I’d be happy to, but it’s up to him,”

Sarah turned to face Joel and pleaded him for a sleepover this coming weekend.

“I, uh, I don’t know darlin’…” He sighed, “You’ve got a lot on the go between school and soccer.”

“Dad, please! We haven’t seen each other since I was little. It’s been so long, just this once?” The teenager pleaded again.

“Alright, alright,” Joel put his hands up in defeat.

Sarah let out a little squeal and hugged her dad.

“Okay, kiddo… I’ll text your dad about it once I’ve gotten settled in this week,” you smiled.

You could tell both you and Joel were uncomfortable with the situation. That didn’t matter at the end of the day because you’d both do anything to make sure Sarah was happy. Even after five years you could tell Joel knew that.

The Miller’s said their goodbyes and you excused yourself upstairs. A sleepover with Sarah meant a whole night at Joel’s. You hadn’t realized the gravity of your actions until you were sitting alone in a bed that no longer belonged to you, in a place that somehow felt different, yet exactly the same. It dawned on you that you may never get over Joel, but he sure as hell had moved on from you. It was clear in the way he avoided you, acted as if you didn’t even exist.

Who knows how long you’d stay in Austin and you already knew it would only end in more pain than which it began. Tomorrow you’d start looking for a way out again, before too much damage could be done. You had built your walls even higher than they had been before you left and you were determined to make it out unscathed.

“About time that I face the hard times I’ve let go. If love was just an ocean I’d drown before I float”

To be continued.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #pre outbreak!joel #joel miller x f!reader #meg writes things

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lvrhughes · 1 year ago

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The Internship | A. Matthews

creds to @trevzeags11 for the title🫶

word count: 1.2k

Pairing: Auston Matthews x f!reader

summary: After being hired on a internship for the leafs, being late on your first day runs you into Auston.

warnings: making out?

requested: no

not my gif!

You had just been hired by the Toronto Maple Leafs for a internship for photography, yet you had managed to run late on your first day. Your roommate had moved your camera, to which they had already left, so you had to rummage through the house to find it, pushing you a little behind schedule, then traffic was so slow, it was one thing after another.

That horrific morning had lead to where you were now, rushing through the halls of the Scotiabank centre. Clearly not paying enough attention while trying to find your way to the ice because you ran directly into someone, you being the only party that fell.

“Fuck I’m so sorry” you muttered getting up, he was stood there, seemingly fine, maybe a little stunned. He turned around to see you brushing the dirt off your pants and checking if your camera was fine, his breath caught in his throat. You were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, and you had just ran into him and fell, great impression.

“Are you okay?” Was all he asked, you looked up at him, a smile smiling playing on your lips, while nodding. He didn’t believe that for a minute.

He noticed the way you were be extra careful with your left hand, but he wouldn’t push you right now, he was already late for practice now.

“I really need to do, but do you know where your going?” He was gentle with his words, your heart melted a bit at the care he was showing.

“No, could you point me in the direction of the ice?” The rush and panic could he heard in your voice. He let of a soft laugh before nodding, he waved his hand to follow him. He lead you to the ice, before gliding on, you hadn’t even noticed he was wearing skates.

“Matthews!” Some other boys on the ice called to him, it finally hit you, you had just ran into, physically, one of the Toronto Maple Leafs. You turned to find an area to set up the rest of your camera, finding a bench to claim.

You set everything you needed up, lining your camera up to test the lighting. Seemingly it was fine, so you began. Choosing a player to follow, switching it every so often. You found yourself returning to follow, who you learned through his team yelling, Auston Matthews. He skated with so much grace, and played with just as much passion, he was addicting to watch. So at the end of practice going through your SD card you found mostly pictures of Auston, no surprise there.

Fuck he’s gorgeous, was all you could think.

You had to pack up, it only took a few minutes for you to do so, before walking back out. Hoping this time you’d learned your way enough around to not get lost, but yet again you ran into someone. Except this time they ran into you, again knocking you over but not them.

“I’m so sorry fuck” he said putting his hand out for you to grab, you didn’t immediately, checking your camera was fine first. Then you did, wincing as he grabbed your hand, you hadn’t noticed it hurt before. He seemed to notice.

“Are you okay? your wrist looks a little swollen”

That caused you to look down at it, it did, he was right.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” You tried to smile but the pain you finally noticed in your wrist showed you were faking.

“No, come on, I’m bringing you to the medics”

“No it’s fine I swear, I need to get home and send the photos in.”

“I’m sure they can wait another 30 minutes” he didn’t give time for an answer after that, just taking your other hand and leading you in the direction of the medics. He knocked on the door, waiting for signal to enter.

He pushed open the door, still holding your hand, leading you into the small room.

“Auston, what happened this time?” The medic smiled, she seemed nice. She had a playful tone and looked friendly.

“Nothing to me I promise, I just ran into her” he sort of mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. The medic looked at you, seeing your wrist, she ushered you over to the table. Having you sit atop it while she looked over your wrist, Auston stayed beside you, a feeling of guilt washing over him.

“Looks like you’ve sprained your wrist. It’s not serious it just a tensor bandage around your wrist for about a week or two”

Auston felt worse, because he ran into you, you sprained your wrist.

“Okay” you mumbled, that was not what you wanted to hear. The medic wrapped your wrist for you, teaching you how to do it in case you ever needed to. Finally you were aloud out, after about 15 minutes.

“I’m so sorry” Was the first thing Auston said when out of the tiny medical room.

“It’s fine” you mumbled, pulling your camera bag over your shoulder.

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry running into you and I’m sorry you ran into me and fell” how could some one be so nice they apologize for something you did?

“I promise it’s fine, now I really need to hand in the photos.” You brought out your phone to call a cab for yourself but Auston beat you to it.

“Do you need a ride?”

“No it’s okay-“

“No I insist”

That what lead to you being sat in the passenger seat of Auston’s car, clicking through the photos you took. You smiled at the really good ones, delete the really bad ones. Auston pulled up to your house, you began grabbing all your items.

“Could I see some of the photos?” He voice was quiet, it was weird. The entire time you’d know him he’d never sounded so nervous.

You nodded and turned your camera towards him, clicking through some of the pictures. He smiled at them, seeing his team working together, and all the photos of himself.

“There amazing”

“Thank you.” Smiled at him, a sense of pride filling you.

“I’d love to meet with you another time, maybe once we’re I don’t run into you.”

A flushed look came over you, and you knew he could tell.

“I’d like that” your smile never faltered, his grew.

Before you could even realize what was happening he was leaning over the console and kissing you, his lips were soft yet chapped against yours, moving in sync with you. Your hands tangled in his hair, his hand slipping on your waist. Air was soon needed though, to both your displeasure.

“Get out of the car.”

That shocked you.

“What?”

“Out,” he paused, “please?”

You scoffed, grabbing your bag and opening the door, he did the same. Leaving you more confused until he walked over to your side of the car, he was pushing your back against the side of his car.

Without second thought your arms wrapped around his shoulders and into his hair, his snaking around your waist right before kissing you again.

Needless to say you could check making out against a car off your bucket list, and you had a date with him next Tuesday.

#auston matthews #mads writings!#auston matthews x reader #auston matthews imagine #toronto maple leafs

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mariacallous · 2 months ago

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The Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) "acknowledges and respects" concerns about the ‘Russians at War’ documentary, but will not cancel its premiere.

“Our understanding is that it was made without the knowledge or participation of any Russian government agencies. In our view, in no way should this film be considered Russian propaganda,” the TIFF statement reads.

Previously, the movie received a wide public backlash. The film provides only small glimpses of the actual combat and does not reveal the extent of the destruction being inflicted by Russia in Ukraine. The documentary features a Ukrainian who fights on the side of Russia saying Ukraine bombed its own eastern regions. Another character broadcasts spreads the narrative about Ukrainian Nazis.

“As a cultural institution, we stand for the right of artists and cultural workers to express fair political comment freely and oppose censorship,” wrote TIFF. “Because filmmakers, like all artists, work in dynamic engagement with their societies, we believe that our role as curators and presenters of film must stand for an unequivocal defense of artistic expression, and a commitment to provide safe, open spaces to engage, critique and reflect on artists' work.”

TIFF concluded its statement by expressing its understanding of the suffering of the Ukrainian people due to the Russian invasion, while emphasizing the importance of freedom of expression.

“We understand and deeply feel the suffering of the Ukrainian people as the result of an illegal Russian invasion. As we engage with the art made at this politically charged time, we are guided by the democratic values of freedom of conscience, opinion, expression and peaceful assembly as protected in the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms for all Canadians including Canadian artists,” TIFF added.

Ukraine’s Minister of Culture and Strategic Communications, Mykola Tochytskyi, noted that legal actions will be taken to fight propaganda.

The publicly funded TV network TVO (formerly TVOntario) released a statement on September 10 announcing no longer airing the 'Russians at War' documentary.

‘Russians at War’ was filmed in temporarily occupied Ukrainian territories, without official authorization. The movie was directed by Russian-Canadian filmmaker Anastasia Trofimova, who formerly worked with Russia’s state-sponsored RT news agency, who stated seeing “absolutely ordinary guys with a sense of humor” and “no signs of war crimes during her time near the front.”

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yournameoneverypage · 2 years ago

Text

Snuggle Bug

Shawn Mendes x Reader. Established relationship.

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: My first sick fic...!! 🤒 Soft and fluffy, as per the request. I hope I did it justice and that y’all like it. ☺️

~*❤️*~

You threw yourself into your fiancé’s arms the moment you saw him step through the arrivals gate early Friday evening at Toronto’s Pearson airport. Shawn had been commuting between Los Angeles and New York for the past month and you had missed him something fierce.

He caught you like he usually did, but he almost lost his balance and, laughing softly, he set you back on your feet.

“Hi baby,” he sighed, enveloping you in his arms and burying his lips in the crook of your neck. “God, I missed you.”

“I missed you more,” you hummed back, breathing in the scent of him. It was off in the slightest of ways, but you pushed your concern aside. It was probably just the smell of the flight still clinging to him.

You hadn’t ever been one of those couples who sucked face in public, so it didn’t wholly surprise you that he didn’t add a kiss to your greeting. There’d be plenty of time for that once you were, at the very least, behind the tinted windows of your vehicle.

He transferred his guitar case to the same side where he had his carry-on hooked over his shoulder so that he could have a hand free to link with yours. He leaned into you slightly.

“Tired, my love?” you murmured.

“A little,” he exhaled, unconvincingly.

You knew him well enough to tell when he wasn’t being entirely truthful with you. He had been working himself to exhaustion in meetings with his team, writing and producing with musician friends, recording new music of his own, doing press for his movie, and house hunting. You could see it in his eyes with every FaceTime call.

He needed at least two full days’ rest wrapped in your arms, and that’s exactly what you were going to give him.

///

Shawn was dragging his feet as you made your way to where his Tesla was parked. He was definitely more tired than he let on. He never wanted you to worry about him, but of course, you did anyway, even when, - especially when, - he tried to assure you that he was fine.

You popped the trunk and reached for his guitar case and carry-on. “Get in the car, baby,” you smiled softly, touching his cheek. “I’ll take care of this.” He usually fought you on things like that, but this time he didn’t. He nodded thankfully and entered on the passenger side.

The moment you slid behind the wheel and closed the door after you, Shawn reached for your hand. “I’m so happy to be home,” he breathed, leaning over the console of the car and dropping small kisses along your jawline from your temple to your chin.

You knew when he said ‘home’ he didn’t necessarily mean Toronto. You were, after all, in the midst of relocating to LA. When he said ‘home’, he meant you. You were his home. You traveled with him as often as you could, - most of your work could be done remotely, - but the past month had been especially busy and you’d needed to be on site.

You were essentially doing the work of two as management strived to fill a couple of positions before your transition to full remote. Things had finally settled enough for you to take a few days off into the next week and you were going to spend every minute with Shawn, reconnecting and loving all over each other.

You tipped your head and his lips descended to your neck and you giggled. You took his face in your hands and finally claimed the kiss you’d been aching for for weeks.

He hummed contentedly as he eased away. “Missed your kisses, too.” He then brought your hand to his lips.

You tried to withdraw it but he tightened his grip as his head fell against the seat and his loving gaze met yours. He was so soft and clingy, which made sense as you hadn’t had any physical contact for way too long. You hated to ruin the moment, but you snickered, “I need both hands to get outta here, bub.”

“Get outta here then so I can have it back,” he murmured with a small smirk.

///

You and Shawn dropped his things inside your condo door. Unpacking and gifts, for he always brought you something from his travels, could wait a while longer.

“Dinner?” you asked, pulling him further inside, toward the kitchen, since he’d once again glued his hand to yours, and also his chin to your shoulder and his front to your back.

“Not hungry. Maybe later. Unless, of course, you’re hungry, my love.”

“I’m alright.” You turned around in his embrace and melted into his warmth. “How about a nap?”

It was music to his ears. He’d missed your bed almost as much as he’d missed you, and he particularly missed you in your bed. “Yes, please.”

‘Nap’ was usually synonymous with sex in your home, and the first thing you normally did when Shawn had been away, even if only for a few days, was make love. After a month, you were craving him, acutely.

But when he crawled into bed after you and curled himself around you, resting his head on your stomach, instead of pulling your and his clothes off, you knew he genuinely wasn’t feeling well.

You tangled one hand in his curls and scratched the fingernails of the other across his upper back beneath his tank top.

Shawn was always warm, but he seemed especially so that evening. “Are you okay, baby? You’re really warm.”

“’m fine,” he mumbled, already half-asleep.

You brought your hand from his hair to his forehead. “I don’t think you are,” you frowned. “I think you have a fever.”

“Don’t want you to worry ’bout me.”

“Too bad. It’s part of the job description as your devoted fiancée. As is taking care of you when you’re sick.”

“Don’t wan’be sick,” he pouted.

“Unfortunately, you can’t just wish it away, bub. I’m gonna get you some soup, because you really should eat something, and then see if we have some meds.” You began to extricate yourself from your clingy fiancé, but he further tightened himself around you.

“Stay. Please,” he whispered. “Just need you here. Just need some sleep. Be fine in th’mornin’.”

And with that, he was out like a light.

///

Surprisingly, you fell asleep almost as quickly. Now that Shawn was home again and in your arms where he belonged, and your body and mind truly realized you had a few days without deadlines or expectations ahead of you, you fell into your own sort of exhaustion.

You woke a few hours later, having barely moved, to a rumbling in your stomach. You contemplated whether or not to try to ignore it and go back to sleep.

Ultimately, you untangled yourself from Shawn, successfully this time, and padded into the kitchen to warm up some soup for you both. You would try to rouse him to eat and drink and take some medication before falling back to sleep for, hopefully, the entirety of the night. You wanted to try to get ahead of whatever was ailing him.

You felt his presence in the kitchen before you felt him wrap his arms around you from behind. “I woke up and you weren’t there,” he whined, voice a little raspy.

You rubbed his forearms, now covered with the fleece of his favorite bear-stamped sweater. He must’ve gotten cold, even if you could still feel his body radiating heat. You looked over your shoulder to see heavy eyes, mussed hair, and pink-stained cheeks. It wasn’t fair; even when he was sick he was stupidly attractive.

“Sit,” you instructed, urging him toward the stools at the kitchen island. He did. “I want you to eat, drink, and take your meds,” you gently, yet firmly, demanded, placing a bowl of soup, a glass of water, and two Tylenol Cold and Flu capsules before him.

“I’m not sick,” he tried to argue.

You hugged him from behind and kissed his cheek. “Humor me, bub.” You then sat beside him with your own bowl of soup and glass of water. He pulled you as close as possible without you ending up in his lap.

You weren’t satisfied till he’d slurped the last spoonful of chicken and vegetables, drained his glass of water, and swallowed his pills.

The short stop-off in the kitchen had exhausted him all over again.

“Go back to bed, baby, I’ll be there as soon as I clean up.”

Still, he offered, “I’ll help.”

“You will not. Go.”

“Can’t we clean up in the morning?” he frowned.

He looked so downtrodden, you didn’t want to deny him anything. You glanced around the kitchen, - it would take all of three minutes, - but before you could contest, Shawn’s hand was in yours and he was leading you back to your room.

After using the bathroom, and completing an abridged bedtime routine, you were back in bed and curled around one another, yet with less clothing. Shawn had again grown too warm and had divested himself of his sweater and tank top and you only wore your little boyshort underwear and one of Shawn’s old t-shirts.

“Do you wanna...?” he whispered, his hand slipping beneath the tee and up your back.

He would put forth his best effort, even as tired and unwell as he was feeling, because he’d missed making love with you as much as you had, and he was selfless like that. But so were you. The intimacy of just being able to hold one another close enough to share breath was everything you needed right then.

There was no way you could get any closer than you were, but that didn’t stop him from trying to crawl into your skin.

“You can ravish me in the morning,” you promised with a smirk he could feel against the juncture between his jaw and ear.

He tenderly wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and sighed an ‘I love you’ before his eyes fluttered closed.

///

Shawn’s tossing and turning began around 2am. He was alternately too cold, buried under the comforter and flush against you, or too hot, blankets thrown off and balancing his giant, sweat-sheened body on the edge of the mattress. Regardless, he still needed some sort of skin to skin contact at all times, reaching for you, even in sleep, if only to touch his fingertips to yours.

His fever hadn’t broken yet; in fact, he seemed a little warmer as he was currently facing you, with only his forehead touching yours, again in that ‘too hot’ state. You did your best to attune yourself to his hot and cold fluctuations and adjusted the blankets accordingly whenever you were conscious enough to do so.

He finally, thankfully, fell into a deep, restful sleep around four-thirty.

A rattling cough startled you awake just after eight.

“Sorry,” Shawn croaked.

“Come here, Love,” you murmured, drawing him toward you. You lovingly traced the contours of his face with your fingertips. “How are you feeling?”

“’m sick,” he rasped, finally admitting what you already knew. “Shouldn’t’ve kissed you. Now you’re gonna get sick, too. ’m sorry.” His eyes were emotion filled and limned with unshed tears.

You shrugged. “We’ll be sick together then. No sorries, baby. Kissing you was, and is, worth the risk.” You moved to kiss him again.

He pulled his head away. “No. There’s still a chance to save yourself.”

You giggled. “I assume all responsibility. You can even say ‘I told you so’.”

“Oh, I will,” he smirked, but he could no longer deny you what you both wanted so badly. He brought his mouth to yours for a few moments of languorous kissing. He hummed against your lips.

When you eased away, you dipped your thumb in the divot of his chin. Your voice softened and cracked when you whispered, “It was too long without you this time.”

“I know,” he exhaled, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “Things will settle after the move.”

“You’re still too warm,” you said, kissing his forehead and frowning. “What hurts?”

“Everything,” he sniffled. “Throat’s sore. My chest is a little tight. My head hurts. My body hurts. ’m cold. You’re warm,” he sighed, cuddling even closer.

“I’m going to make you something to eat, and hot tea for your throat. And let’s get another dose of meds into you too, okay?”

He wasn’t hungry, and the thought of swallowing anything was currently a little overwhelming, but he was well aware that his immune system needed the boost. He also knew it would make you feel better if he at least tried to eat and hydrate. That alone was enough.

He reluctantly loosened his hold on you to allow you out of bed. You rounded to his side and organized a mound of pillows at his back. You turned on the television and asked, “What do you want to watch?”

He looked at you like you’d grown a second head. “It’s Saturday morning.”

“Of course,” you chuckled and flipped to Cartoon Network. “How silly of me.” Saturdays were always no gym, breakfast in bed, cartoon mornings.

You peppered kisses along his jaw and into his neck. “Love you. I’ll be right back, ’k?”

His eyes, filled with adoration, found yours. “Thank you,” he breathed. “I love you.”

With an affectionate smile, you ran a hand gently through his curls before leaving him in the company of ‘6teen’ to go make breakfast.

Shawn stumbled into the kitchen with the duvet wrapped tightly around him just as you had finished organizing the breakfast tray. You laughed. “You’re supposed to be in bed!”

He opened the blanket and drew you into his cocoon. “I missed you.”

You wrapped your arms around his torso, hugged him to you, and tipped your head up to kiss his chin. “I’ve been gone less than ten minutes, bub,” you snickered.

“Less than ten minutes is too long,” he affirmed. “And I needed more Kleenex.”

“Go on now. I’ll be right behind you with the tray and a box of tissues.”

You had balanced two bowls of honey-sweetened oatmeal with blueberries and strawberries, two cups of citrus-honey green tea, another dose of Tylenol, and now a new box of tissues on the tray. You set it in the middle of your bed after Shawn had once again gotten as comfortable as possible and before you climbed back in beside him.

All throughout breakfast, Shawn craved your warmth. You were too hot encased in the duvet with him, but you endured it because he was sick and snuggly and needed you. And even with that, and a belly full of oatmeal and tea, he wasn’t warm enough.

You cupped his face and he leaned into your touch. “How about I run you a hot bath?”

He nodded tiredly.

He sat on the closed toilet seat with the blanket still wrapped around him while you began to prepare his bath in your heated soaking tub big enough for two. His insistence on being wherever you were was endearing.

You were often invading each other’s bubble on any given day, but being apart for weeks, coupled with him feeling unwell, made for an especially clingy boy.

You added a few drops of essential oils to water just shy of too hot and soon the bathroom was steamy and aromatic. Shawn could already feel the soothing effects of eucalyptus and peppermint as he filled his loosening lungs with deep breaths.

“I’m afraid you have to peel yourself out of the blanket and your clothes to get in, bub. Quick as you can. A few moments of cold and then you’ll be as warm as can be.”

You pushed the duvet off his shoulders and pulled his sweatshirt and tank top up and over his head. He shivered and quickly removed his joggers and boxer briefs himself before stepping into the tub.

He sunk in, up to his chin, sighing deeply, eyes closing. You began to gather the dirties to deposit into the hamper, and then the comforter to return to your bedroom.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded, reaching out to encircle his hand around the back of your knee.

You crouched down beside the tub to bring yourself eye level with him. You tangled a hand in his hair and gave his scalp a gentle scratch. “How about you let me clean up after breakfast and change the sheets, and then I’ll get in with you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be away for ten minutes, maybe fifteen. Think you can handle that?” you teased.

“Meanie,” he scowled.

You laughed softly and leaned in to kiss him. He fell back against the bath pillow and again closed his eyes.

///

You turned the heat up a few degrees on your way to the kitchen with the tray of dirty breakfast dishes.

After the kitchen was clean, you returned to your bedroom to strip the bed of the sheets Shawn had sweated through earlier that morning and tossed them in the washer. You then remade the bed before pulling clean boxer briefs, joggers, a tank top, sweatshirt, and socks from Shawn’s dresser drawers.

Less than fifteen minutes later and you were back in the humid, fragrant bathroom. Shawn smiled contentedly at your return. You removed your engagement ring, placing it safely on the ring holder, - you never wore it in the bath or shower, - twisted your hair up into a messy bun, pulled your shirt off, and slipped out of your boy shorts. He scooted forward enough for you to climb into the bathtub behind him.

Your new home in LA had to have a heated soaking tub as well; it was one of your mutual must-haves for intimate moments just like this. If it didn’t, Shawn had promised to have one installed.

He relaxed into you, his hands stroking the backs of your thighs which had found their way around his hips. You draped your arms over his shoulders and began to run your fingertips through the hair on his chest.

You didn’t talk much, even though his throat was already feeling better, speaking instead with soft touches and caresses, entwined hands and palm and wrist kisses. You absorbed each other’s very essence, letting your body rhythms continue to re-attune to one another’s, as you soaked in the hot water.

Everyone outside of your relationship found it truly amazing that you and Shawn were almost always in harmony. You easily finished each other’s sentences, and often knew what the other wanted or needed without having to say anything at all.

Once you were both thoroughly waterlogged, and Shawn was finally warm deep into his bones, you lovingly washed his hair.

///

Shawn sighed blissfully as he pulled on the clean boxers and joggers you’d laid out for him, - he was warm enough now not to need anything else, - and slid into bed between clean sheets.

“Try to sleep, hm?” you murmured. What he needed more than anything was sleep. You placed your hand to his forehead and, much to your relief, his fever had finally broken.

You suspected it wouldn’t take long for him to doze off now that he was warm and his body aches had eased. The Tylenol had dulled his headache and the lozenge you had given him, which he was currently sucking on, was soothing his sore throat.

You assured him you were coming back to bed as soon as you put the sheets in the dryer and retrieved some fresh water for your bedside.

He was barely holding onto consciousness by the time you returned. You made him sit up and drink as much of the cold coconut water as he was willing and able to. You then crawled back into bed beside him.

He whispered another ‘thank you’ and yet another ‘I love you’ before he succumbed.

Before you allowed yourself to fall asleep as well, you turned off the television and reached for Shawn’s phone next to yours on the nightstand. You had placed it in ‘do not disturb mode’ as soon as you’d known he was sick.

You entered his passcode to check his texts and voicemails for anything which might be pressing, and returned the necessary calls and messages.

From your own phone you called Shawn’s mom to let her know you weren’t going to make it to dinner that night because her son was sick with what you suspected was the flu.

You promised Karen she didn’t need to come over; that you would be home with him for as long as he needed you to be, and that you were taking the very best care of him. And yes, you would have him call her himself when he was up again and hopefully feeling better.

Despite your and, later that afternoon, Shawn’s assurances, Karen and Manny still drove into the city from Pickering to bring dinner to you. Baked Parmesan zucchini, homemade spaghetti and meat sauce, and a small plate of brownies, all gluten-free, of course.

They didn’t stay long. Shawn was still fatigued and achy as his immune system fought against his illness, but they were happy to see him eating, even if his portions were smaller than usual, and otherwise being well taken care of. Karen adored you, and trusted you wholeheartedly, but she was still his mother and he was her baby boy.

Karen insisted on cleaning up after dinner. She wouldn’t even accept your help.

She and Manny risked close contact, - after all, they also hadn’t seen Shawn for a month, - by giving him (and you) huge hugs before they left.

You fell into bed that evening, again wrapped up in one another, and slept, deep and restful, straight through till morning.

///

You woke up alone. Shawn’s side of the bed was empty. You listened for sounds of him from the bathroom. Instead you heard the strumming of his guitar from outside your bedroom, interspersed with some slight coughing.

He looked up from his playing to find you leaning against the archway with one of your small smiles only for him on your face. “Good morning, baby,” he returned your smile.

You crossed over to him, curling up on the couch beside him. You reached out to give a playful scritch to the stubble along his jawline. “Whatcha doin’ out here?”

“I woke up early and couldn’t fall back to sleep. I feel like I’ve done nothing but sleep for thirty-six hours,” he chuckled.

“You needed it...”

He simply nodded his agreement. He brushed a lock of hair from your eyes and tucked it behind your ear. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

You shook your head and then asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he smiled, just before a small fit of coughing began again.

Your brow furrowed.

“It sounds worse than it feels,” he laughed. “It’s good, it’s loose. I can breathe deep.” And he drew a deep breath to reassure you.

For the flu, it was certainly a mild case if he was already feeling better. It made you hopeful that if you did end up also getting sick, you’d get through it just as quickly.

Now that you were up, Shawn voiced his desire to get out of the house for some fresh air.

It was a cold morning, with a slight coating of snow across the grass from the night before, so you dressed warm. You tucked scarves into your coats and made the short walk over to your favorite café for coffee and pastries.

You spent the rest of the morning gaming. You made lunch together. You fell asleep while watching movies and cuddling on the living room sofa. You ate Karen’s leftovers for dinner, all of them. (Spaghetti was always better the next day.) Shawn’s appetite was much improved.

His color and his strength were also a lot better.

Back in bed after dinner, you sat shoulder to shoulder in front of Shawn’s laptop as he showed you the latest of the LA homes he’d bookmarked, one which had just come on the market. He hoped it wasn’t gone before you returned to LA with him the week after the one upcoming.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me,” he sighed, out of nowhere, as if it was an afterthought. “You always do.”

You dropped a kiss to his bare shoulder and murmured, “Always will.”

“You’re gonna be the best mommy.”

His comment wasn’t exactly surprising; you’d just looked at photos of the aforementioned property, one of which was a nursery.

Still, you teased, chuckling, “Do you know something I don’t?”

He laughed. “Just manifesting. For the future.”

“Let’s get through the move and our wedding first, hm? Then we’ll talk babies.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Shawn closed his laptop and set it on the nightstand before turning to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I seem to remember another promise made.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. Something about ravishing you...?”

You grinned, giggled, “You’re sure you’re feeling well enough for ‘ravishing’?”

“I feel well enough to sure as hell try,” he smirked, swiftly maneuvering you beneath him and tugging the duvet over your heads.

~*~

@mendesblurb @monikamendes @mendesficsxbombay @silverswallow @chocochipcookie305 @misti-ka @fallinallinshawn @hiding-behind-a-flower @benito-mi-vida

(Is there anyone who wishes to be added or removed from my meager taglist? There are at least three of the above who I don't think read my writing anymore, or are even on tumblr these days.)

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes request #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fiction #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes sick!fic

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