#tom getting to fly back to england for a MONTH when he was sick while nicole was forced to finish filming before going to urgent care (!!!)

[witchern]

i'd seen only the first season back when it debuted and i wasn't very involved in the fandom beyond passively reblogging stuff, but there's a whole chapter in maureen ryan's "burn it down" that's dedicated to what happened behind the scenes of sleepy hollow over the years and nicole beharie's treatment on that show and holy shit i didn't realize how bad it was.

[thepeakyfckingblinders]

Never Again || Thomas Shelby x reader

credits to @saralou23​ for the gif

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested/summary: “can I request a fic where the reader is found unconscious or faints in the shop or something and tommy freaks out? I just find protective tommy so ❤️💓💟!! Thank you, your writing is absolutely INCREDIBLE” (Thank you so much honeybun, you’re making me blush, pls, forgive me for being late ❤️)

Warnings: swearing, bossy Tommy, basically Tommy freaking out and being overprotective, me always loving him with all of my mangled soul

Author’s notes:

I hope you are okay darlings, I love you, please stay safe ♡

I’m so sorry for being this late, I have no excuses, forgive me. Also the end sucks, but I’m struggling with my writing lately, so, sorry again.

I love protective Thomas so much, he’s an ass, but he’s a softie, and I’m gonna lose my mind some day.

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Birmingham’s gelid air hit your sensitive skin with no mercy as soon as your red mary-janes crossed the doorway of the Garrison, only to disgracefully sink into the greyish muddy loam in which the whole of Small Heath seemed to be covered.

Your fingers felt like rigid appendages burdening your already wearied arms, while you tried your best to wrap them around your coat’s edges, in a disperate effort to keep that warm tissue on your bulging clavicles left exposed by the woollen dress you were wearing. No matter how many heavy clothes you decided to put on, that implacable cold still succeeded in making you feel constantly out of forces, debilitated to the core; it had always been that way, since you were nothing more than a little girl obliged to spend one every two months confined in your bedroom, afflicted by incredibly high fever and sometimes even bronchitis.

Truth was that your body had never got used to England’s humid weather, yet, even though you poor healt had previously put you in danger, for your sake, thanks to the enormous progresses made by medicine in the past fifteen years, it was now easy to fight against the ruthless chill of those endless winters. Plus, since the earliest days of your attendence, your wardrobe had been perpetually refreshed with high-quality pieces perfectly in step with the times, for your fiancée had been literally covering you in furs and duvets of all kinds, concerned as he was that you could’ve eventually caught another bad fever, whose deathly consequences he had already experienced on his own thick skin. And for no reason in the world he would’ve even risked to lose you too.

So, as everybody could’ve easily predicted, Thomas was perennially paying attention to your wellbeing: the most famous specialists from inside and outside the United Kingdom had come directly to your country house; if one thing could be taken for granted, it was that your medications would always be settled on your side cabinet, together with a glass of fresh water, every day and every night; and, come hell or high water, he would accompany you during your routine visits to the hospital, even when it meant leaving all of his business without any prior warning.

Needless to say, you were perfectly able to do those things on your own -pheraps except for getting a crowd of world renowned doctors in your living room- and you sure as hell had tried to persuade him that there was no need at all for being so preoccupied all the time; still, he was Tommy Shelby, he simply couldn’t help it. 

The concern for his loved ones’ lives kept stealing his sleep, even on those nights when there was no trace of imminent dangers on the horizon, it kept excoriating the insides of his drained brains, to the point that, more than once, you’d had to sleep alone in your immense king-size bed or reach for him in his study, curling up on one of his uncomfortable armchairs, ready to appease his fears as best you could. In short, for as much as you needed him to relax, you were still able to understand his protective behavior, against which, as a matter of fact, no one could do much; thus you at least tried not to give him more reasons to be worried by paying some extra attention to all those small things you could solve without Tommy even knowing about it. Regularly taking your iron tablets, for example. Nonetheless, it had now been already a week since the Peaky Blinders had started a brand new business involving in effect every metalworking factory in and around Birmingham, and the whole family, you and Tom included, had been so turbulently tied up with work to let every other thought and need slither on the back burner. As a direct consequence, your doctor’s latest prescription was unfortunately left lying on the bottom of your drawer, that being the fourth day in a row you’d spent without taking those pills, and, even though everything appeared to be going well until then, that one Thursday morning your period eventually came and stroke the fatal blow, having you feel so faint and aching that, all of a sudden, the few metres separating your side of the street from the betting shop seemed to implausibly dilate right under your blurred vision, a vexing sense of nausea assaulting your empty stomach led you to lean against a lamppost, your skin still crawling beneath all those heavy tissues.  Dizziness and lethargy almost took over your sore mind, before you shook your head with an abrupt move in a bid to dispel those unpleasent sensations; clients would’ve arrived in less than a hour, Esme had taken John’s kids on a brief fieldtrip, Michael was already in his office, the boys were making their usual rounds of the mills, Finn and Isaiah were dealing with a couple folks in need back at the Garrison and Polly was nowhere in sight, which made you the only available blinder for the opening and, with Friday’s race approaching, there was no way the box-office could remain shut. Hence, more determined than ever, you chocked down the knot forming in your throat due to queasiness and just forced youself to put one foot in front of the other onto the dusty road, until you reached the shop door, not without the risk of tripping over multiple times in the process. Your frozen fingers clutched to the small side-wall now carring all of your weight, whilst your lungs tried to let in as much air as possible. And it worked, each plodding breath seemed to fight your sickness, also your heartbeat was gradually slowing down, thus you shut your eyelids and continued to inhale deeply for a full minute, before your trembilng hand managed to finally turn the key in the lock, giving you free access to the place. 

However, the small click produced by the latch closing again did not live to reach your ears, for they were already brimful of ominous hisses, in a scant moment a bulk of hypnotic grey worms prevented you from seeing anything else, they relentlessly squirmed in front of your dilated pupils, that repulsing view sending brutal shooks straight to your clenched stomach, again. And, before you even had a chance to realize what was going on, your brain completely blacked out.

                                                    ~ ~ ~

Words would not be sufficient to describe the fright taking over Arthur’s features the second your inert silhouette entered his line of sight. Just returned from their daily patrol, he had indeed noticed a small crowd waiting outside the office, cursing and fussing because of the lacked opening, and that alone had been weird enough for him to punch and kick his way up to the entrance, profanities spilling from his mustached mouth every time somebody’s elbow digged into his ribcage, inducing him to hit back so to stand his ground, only to eventually find himself powerless in front of that ghastly scene. It took him a while to recover from the shock, yet the eldest Shelby eventually regained control of his limbs and moved towards your shape with a single step.

“Polly! Pol, come here, for God’s sake!” Those hoarse yells filled the room, reverberating through the brickwalls, so loud that they could’ve been heard from the other side of the city, Arthur fell on his knees right beside you, gently placing a hand under your nape in order to lift your head. Blind panic streaming in his veins kept him for thinking clearly, he didn’t know what to do, thus he simply shook you from your shoulders, hoping in vain to see your eyes fly back open, but your neck just bent backwards.

“Where the hell is that bloody woman when I need her?!” he grunted those words in between his teeth while tigthening his grip on you, then his chest raised in a sharp move: “Jesus Christ, Polly!” He shouted once more, this time conveying all of his breath and blood towards his larynx, his abrasive voice shriveled and insisted on the last letters of his aunt’s name, until swift strides frantically hit the creaking steps, announcing Polly’s arrive. Her eyes struggled to remain open, her left palm was pressed against her forehead in a silly attempt to soothe the tremendous headache resulted from the previous night’s booze, she didn’t even have the time to put proper clothing on, since her mad niece was apparentely going berserk. “You, son of a bastard-” cursed words died underneath her tongue when she understood what was going on, soon her feet took on a life of their own, as they picked up their peace, leading her next to your body now held in Arthur’s arms.

“She’s freezing, Pol, she’s a fucking chunk of ice!” Hiccoughs shattered his worried cries, he almost whined, shifting his gaze from yours to Polly’s face over and over again, she, on the other hand, used the whole lenght of her right arm to clear in one smooth motion the closest desk. “Quick, lay her here” The deafening noise produced by those items colliding with the pavement barely grazed her hears, whilst she nodded to herself in the effort to impose some order on her obfuscated head, searching for a prompt solution that was late in coming, to the point that Finn beat it to the draw and stormed in, pointing a loaded gun to each corner of the room with fear in his cerulean irises. “What the hell’s going on?” That hysterical question echoed through the place, even though the young boy was finding it hard to get his breath, due to the crazy run he had made to reach the shop immediately after hearing that insane screaming. Nonetheless, in the space of an instant, he saw you as well and fell utterly silent, violent dismay caught him off guard, his wide eyes hesitated on your motionless figure; all of a sudden he didn’t know what to think, nor he could get the thought of your death out of his brains.

“My God, she’s as pale as death” Finn let his mind talk through that throttled murmur, regretting it right away, for silty goosebumps crawled on his skin under the pungent pressure of his brother’s instantaneous lethal glare. “Don’t talk shit, kid! Just fucking go and get Tom!”

The redhead didn’t waste any time, he somehow managed to recollect his guts and steadily disappeared behind the door previously left open. While struggling for air and internally searching for the right words to say in front of Thomas, Finn covered the whole distance between the office and the Garrison. Labored gasps coming out of his slightly parted lips in louder groans as he slammed the heavy pub’s doors open, using only his strongest shoulder; both Harry and Isaiah watched him run towards the back room where Tommy was going through the books, they did not dare spill a word and, after all, the boy didn’t even look in their direction, such was his concentration. Still, once he reached the place, all of a sudden his tongue felt dry, his well-organised speech faded away.

“Finn?! What’s wrong?” Tom’s icy eyes were now staring at him through his round glasses, the paper he’d been reading was instantly dropped, although his tone remained steady. “Y-you need to come, now! She... she’s-” A frown formed upon Tommy’s marble face at his little brother’s furious rambling, something wasn’t right, that was crystal clear, yet he wasn’t able to keep up with those hasty and stuttered sentences, so he approached him, putting both his hands on Finn’s shoulders in order to give him a little shove and maybe get some decent information. “Breathe, kid, and tell me what’s going on” That deep, adamant tone somehow sounded scarier than usual roaring inside the boy’s head, hence anxiety definitively won him over, gaining complete control of his mouth too. “It’s Y/n! I don’t fucking know, Tom, s-she looks dead!” All at once, time and space seemed to collapse around him, one single second dilated, covering the space of a whole lifetime beyond his vacant blue irises now fixed on an undetermined spot of the white wall behind Finn’s back.   A gruesome, yet familiar sensation raided his petrified body, it felt like having a beast’s fangs gnawing his throat off, lacerating his flesh to the bone, he could sense every little laceration, his chest being plundered, till even his sable heart was eradicated and then mauled. A strangled wheeze barely lived through his plump lips, that being the only sound he uttered, then his black pupils shrinked and immediately twitched, nailing his sibiling’s gaze. Without receiving an order from his brain, his fists violently gripped Finn’s jacket at the height of his biceps, bringing him a span away from his gnashed teeth with a sharp pull. “Where?” He snarled liked a rabid dog, striking, if possible, geater terror in the young man who struggled to spit an almost inaudible “The shop”, before being shoved against the doorframe as Tommy dodged him and rushed out.

                                                     ~ ~ ~

Polly held the bottle of her almond parfume she’d just put under your nostrils as if her life depended on it, Arthur’s rough palm, instead, began to pat your pasty cheek. “C’mon, love, wake up! Don’t play games, c’mon!” The dorsum of that same hand now poking the left side of your face, and then going back to the other, at incredible speed. You started to feel your face again when his nudges grew in intensity, until he was practically slapping you; soon a tremendous metallic taste invaded your mouth, or rather, you finally sensed it, whilst your eyelids battled against gravity to get back up. Arthur noticed it, he detected that brief flinch and it felt like being pampered with a fresh breeze after days of unsustainable heat. “Oh, fuck, I think I’m having a stroke” His tone held extreme urgency as he grasped for air, tugging with two fingers at his shirt collar; sure, he was great at knocking people off, maybe the best, yet, unfortunately, after that he’d never tried to bring somenody back with the living.

Blinding light rended your shrouded eyes, everything appeared blurred to the point that you couldn’t distinguish Polly’s features, although she was right beside you; nor your hearing was working, since the loud thud produced by the wooden door hitting the brickwall, and then your name barked by your fiancée’s coarse voice, sounded muffled to your ears. With a superhuman effort you succeeded in tilting your face towards the entrance, you recognized the navy-blue suit Thomas had chosen to wear earlier in the moring, still those nebulous images reached your brains with extreme delay, it was like watching vague movie scenes stream in slow motion. Your eyelids blinked as if a plumbeous burden was anchored to them, each flutter seemed to last a full minute, so that you perceived Tom coming to you in multiple shattered motions, while he kept calling you. The moment Tommy furiously jostled against Arthur, in order to take his place by the desk, you gradually went back to see and hear clearly, now being able to seize pure dread sailing those mesmerizing ocean eyes. “Thank goodness, y/n” His big palms envelopped both your cheeks, slightly squeezing them as he lift your neck, revealing all of his hidden delicacy that you, and you only, were able to bring out. “Y/n, love, talk to me” That order came out like a prayer, his voice betraying him once too often, his fingers shaking with worry, while one of his hands held your chin and the other went to caress your locks. Those loving strokes brushed against your skin, slowly infusing a little warmth into your gelid body, he touched you with the unbearable fear of watching you pass away in between his arms, having him struggle to breathe properly. “Do you hear me?” a single, salty drop fell from his long eyelashes and poured your lower lip, you heard his voice crack, distorting, until it became nothing more than a faint whine: “Please, love, talk to me” When his forehead pressed against yours, he finally gave in to the tears that had been held back with drastic ostination, shutting his eyes for a few instants he allowed brutal sobs to trounce his already aching chest. However, that moment of raw weakness was soon restrained, so that you returned to stare into his blue irises. Then, a small grin crossed your pale mouth and, even though your throat felt like gasoline on fire, preventing you from pronouncing a single syllable, you managed to guide your tiny hand to cup his sharp cheekbone. A burning kiss was pressed on its dorsum, before Tommy completely leant into your touch, giving you a look halfway between relief and disperation, he covered your hand with his own, holding it tight. “You’re okay, you’re safe” Those soft murmurs escaped his lips, probably aimed to placate the axphyziating terror still intoxicating his veins. Indeed, as hard as it was to conceive for everybody in that room, although you were the one just recovering from a sudden collapse, Tommy was now the one trembling like a fallen leaf, his arms rested on each side of your shape, sustaining his weight, as he barely stood on his own two feet. Slowly, you regained the necessary strenght to lift your bust, leading him to flutter in your direction, promptly enlacing his forearms around your waist in order to support your movements. “Hold onto me, darling, take it slow” His raspy voice was still unsteady and full of concern, he was holding his breath out of fear, gazing at you with wide eyes and tightening the grip on your hips as if to make sure that you wouldn’t vanish in his palms. You, on the other hand, gave him a rassuring smile, caressing his face mutliple times and placing a brief kiss on his mouth. “I’m fine, Tommy, I’m here with you” you eventually spoke close to his ear so to keep that conversation between the two of you “Let go, my love, I’m here” Your lips accidentally brushed against his forehead once he listened to you and abandoned himself to your tender embrace, gradually drowning into your soft chest while his arms clung on to your figure, his fingertips almost piercing the thick material of your dress as your cheek covered his head, totally annihilating the distance. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. Never again”.

tag list: @spidey-pal​, @shadow-of-wonder​, @stassaurus​​, @peachlle​, @livvtheangel​, @myjbphase​, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest​, @vxxn128​, @keithseabrook27​, @spaghettirogers​​, @writingstudent​​, @hp-hogwartsexpress , @eggingamazinglove​, @geeksareunique​, @cailoleaf​, @simonsbluee​ , @hereforsmutandfluff​, @starxtt​, @jenepleurepasbaby​, @staygold-bebold​, @marvelschriss​, @captivatedbycillianmurphy​

[faefictions]

Lonely People | Ch 5

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Word Count: 1,904

 Y/n spent the entire weekend dreading Monday morning. Class already wasn’t an event to look forward to, but after her conversation with Jace, she didn’t want to have to look Harrison in the eye. Of course, if things went down with him like they had with Jace, it wouldn’t have been that bad. She had only known him for a couple weeks, and they weren’t that close anyway. But they were going to be forced together for this project so she had to find some way to avoid the situation altogether. And that was how she came up with the worst plan she had ever made. She decided to just make him not like her. 

In hindsight, she should have known that that wasn’t going to work how she wanted it. You can’t force someone to not have feelings, just like you can’t force those feelings into existence. But that wouldn’t have stopped her from trying anyway. Her goal was to make him hate her just enough that he wouldn’t have a crush on her, but not so much that he couldn’t stand working with her. Her grade still mattered to her, whether she wanted to admit it or not. 

When she got into the building on Monday morning, she took a deep breath and braced herself. She knew it wasn’t like he was about to make a move on her, but she had to be proactive. When she walked into the class, just one minute before the bell, she glanced up to see Harrison already at the desk, two coffees sitting in front of him. 

He smiled up at her and offered her one of the coffees when she approached him. She kindly took it from the desk and took a sip. 

“There a reason for this?” she asked, gesturing towards the cup. 

“Didn’t want you to be late again,” he chuckled, trying to lighten her seemingly dim mood. 

“Oh, uh, thanks, I guess,” she replied trying her best to not show her appreciation. 

“Wait, what if I had stopped for coffee anyway?”

“Well I guess I didn’t think that far ahead,” he replied, the small smile almost disappearing from his face. She decided to take that as a win for now. 

Mr. Sullivan dismissed both the classes early so they could either prepare for their shoots, head into the studio, or take their shoots elsewhere. 

Y/n and Harrison made their way back to her apartment to get the clothes they had left there from the previous class. The walk was filled with an awkward silence, one that neither of them had the guts to break. Jace had gotten into both of their heads, so any hope for a normal conversation was out the door. 

When they reached the apartment, Harrison didn’t light up like he usually did when he saw Jace. He gave him a begrudged smile and followed y/n into her room to help her gather whatever she needed for their photoshoot. She noticed his awkward shift of character around Jace, but didn’t say anything. She knew exactly why he was acting that way. She wasn’t initially sure if Jace had confronted Harrison too, but she had her suspicions. She tried to not be upset about it, but it irked her beyond belief. Jace had no right to interfere with her love life, or lack thereof. That was her decision. 

“You ok?” Harrison asked, snapping y/n out of her little trance. She realized that she had been standing in the middle of the room, blankly staring at the closet for a few seconds too long. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” she muttered, her cheeks turning red with embarrassment. 

She reached into her closet and pulled out two of the outfits that they had chosen the week before. She let Harrison decide which one they would focus on for the day. She was happy with his choice: a deep blue sweater and some white pants. He had also picked out a watch and simple gold chain to go with the outfit as well. 

They had mutually agreed to spend as little time in the studio as possible. Everyone seemed to be centering their projects on artificial lighting and indoor set-ups. Y/n, of course, had to think outside of the box. So she decided to have only one photo in the studio, and the rest would use as much natural light as possible and be taken in an urban setting. Harrison loved the idea, and the examples she was showing him were amazing enough to seal the deal officially. 

Y/n left Harrison in her bedroom to change while she grabbed some more of her personal equipment from the main room. There was a corner next to the television that she had convinced Sierra and Jace to let her store some of her excess stands and bags in. It wasn’t too much, she just didn’t want it cluttering her room. 

By the time she was all packed up and ready to go, Harrison was coming out of her room to show her the outfit. She mentally noted all the minor adjustments she wanted to make before she started taking photos, and headed out the door. 

She had to admit that the walk to their first location was excruciatingly awkward. The silence between them felt heavy, but neither of them wanted to comment on it. Being around Harrison was proving to be more difficult than she thought it would be. 

As they reached their destination, the silence was only filled by her occasional instructions for him. She had to admit, he was good at what he did. She barely had to fix each pose that he would do. It was a relief to know that her professor truly had paired her with someone who knew what they were doing. 

“So, do you have any plans for Autumn break?” Harrison eventually asked as y/n was checking the shots on her camera. He was getting sick of the silence. He couldn’t figure out why it was happening in the first place. Had he said something, done something? 

“You mean Thanksgiving break?”

“What’s the difference?”

“Fall break was in October,” she tried to hide her giggle. 

“You know what I meant.”

“Can’t pass up the opportunity to make fun of you,” she tried to keep a straight face. This was a little easier than she thought. 

“Are you going to answer the question, or are you too busy poking fun?” he tried not to smile. 

“I don’t know. Sierra and Jace usually make me trade off going home with them for holidays, but I’m not really enjoying that.”

“And why don’t you just go home?”

“This is home.”

Her demeanor completely changed with the answer, Harrison could tell he had struck a chord within her and asking anything further would be a bad idea. 

“So, uhm, do you have any plans?”

“No, I don’t thinking flying back to England for a week is worth the money. And I’m pretty sure Sierra is making Tom come home with her for the holiday.”

“Wait really?”

“Yeah, I think it’s a bit much, but they’re in puppy love, he’s really excited.”

That was great news for y/n. It was Sierra’s turn to take her back home, and if she was taking Tom with her instead, she had an excuse to get out of it. 

The conversation ended when y/n stated that she had gotten the shots she was looking for. The walk back to her apartment was almost as awkward as the walk there. The silence was still thick between them, but it didn’t feel as dreadful as before. 

___

That night, as y/n was beginning to chose and edit some of the photos from the day, she heard Sierra and Jace quietly arguing in the kitchen. It wasn’t a rare occasion to hear any of the 3 roommates arguing with another, especially in the last few months. Ever since the incident with Jace, their relationships had all been tested, but as far as y/n knew that was all over. So out of pure curiosity, she came out of her room and silently approached the kitchen, hoping to eavesdrop before they spotted her. 

That hope went out the door when she heard Jace sigh and ask her to come around the corner. She never got the whole sneaky thing down.

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking between her roommates to their frustrated expressions. 

Neither of them wanted to tell her, which was made obvious when they both hit the other’s arm, trying to pass the responsibility over. 

“Is this about Thanksgiving?” y/n asked, slightly amused at their childlike avoidance. 

“How’d you know?” Jace asked. 

Y/n ignored the question and instead turned to Sierra. “Heard you’re taking Tom home with you this year.”

Sierra seemed ashamed to have been caught, but y/n just laughed at her. 

“No worries, I can stay home for break. Really give you some alone time,” she gave her an over-exaggerated wink, but neither of her roommates found it amusing. 

“Don’t be an idiot, y/n, you can come to my place,” Jace said, furrowing his brow. 

“As sweet as the offer is, I really must insist that I stay home,” she stated, a slight sarcastic lift in her tone. “I appreciate the thought of you guys letting me come home with you, but you both must know how much I hate it by now.”

“Since when do you hate it?” Sierra asked, the offense more present in her voice than she was hoping. 

“Si, your parents ask way too many questions. They’re sweet and all, but I don’t think I can sit through another speed round of personal questions.”

“And what about Jace’s family?”

“I think we all know how adamant Jace’s mom is about me just marrying her son already. Holidays with either of you just mean a week of avoiding your parents, it’s exhausting.”

Jace chuckled at her, but Sierra wasn’t so amused. “You can’t just stay here on your own,” she fought, crossing her arms. 

“Actually, Si, believe it or not, I’m a big girl. I think I can handle a week on my own,” she said in a mocking tone as she made her way around the counter to grab a glass from a cabinet. 

“See, I told you,” Jace teased Sierra, making her turn red. 

“But, y/n..”

“I know, I said I hated being here alone, but that was like a month after we moved in. I’m fine with it now, I promise,” she reassured her friend. She rested her hands on Sierra’s shoulders and gave her a reassuring look, which just caused her to roll her eyes with a smile. 

“Fine, but I’m telling Tom to make Harrison come check on you.”

“Or you could not do that,” y/n replied, sudden annoyance present in her tone. 

“Just so I know you’re not dead. We both know you’re terrible at replying to texts… and calls… and literally any other form of communication.”

“I promise I’ll reply to anything you send, just don’t make your boyfriend’s little friend babysit me.”

“I thought we liked Harrison.”

“And I thought I was old enough to not need a babysitter.”

“Ok, fine, but if you ghost me, I’m making Tom call him.”

“Ok, deal,” y/n rolled her eyes and turned so she could fill her glass with water and return to her room to edit her photos in peace. 

Tags: 

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[imagineaworlds]

Filming Chaos Walking and Being Tom Holland’s Girlfriend Would Include:

After only a few weeks home in England, both you and Tom get callbacks for Chaos Walking.

Though only Tom had planned on auditioning for a role, he made you audition for Viola.

You didn’t think you would get the part.

When you get the callbacks, they want you to come in for screen tests and all of that good stuff.

Since you and Tom were dating, your chemistry was perfect for the movie.

You guys fly to Montreal, Canada for the fist week of filming.

You, Tom, Harrison, and Harry all rented out a house for the few months you guys would be spending there.

Every moment you could, you were studying your lines while Tom just stared at your concentration.

He was way more intrigued with you than learning his lines.

When he got sick the first few days, you guys were cuddled together until you guys made the decision to fly home.

On set, you guys are inseparable.

Patrick Ness will try to review some details for the upcoming scenes, and you two will just be hanging all over each other.

Gummies!!!!!!

You and Tom always steal Patrick’s gummie’s and eat them in the trailer.

But the minute the camera starts rolling, the two of you are instantly just Todd and Viola.

He’s the boy who’s running around aimlessly, confused, and scared.

You’re the girl who’s silent, smart, and brave.

He has to do a lot of fighting scenes and scenes in the water, and you’re just standing there laughing at him from behind the camera.

Tom can never focus when you’re standing on set, because you’re just so damn beautiful.

It’s easy when you’re filming because Todd’s supposed to have the biggest crush on Viola all the while staring at her, trying to figure her out.

He loves staring at you.

When there’s scenes you guys are very close for, like when hiding from Aaron when nearing Heaven, he always breaks character and ends up kissing you.

You take your job very seriously, but when he just surprises you and pulls you in for a kiss, you can’t help but kiss back with a big smile plastered to your face.

Harrison loves the two of you, but he swears that if you guys waste any more time making out, he’s gonna scream.

Your guys’ anniversary is in October, when you’re filming.

So he wakes you up with breakfast in bed, rose petals everywhere, and chocolates for the day.

He’s such a damn romantic.

During the day, between takes, he keeps showering you with gifts.

At the end of the day, Harrison helps him start a bonfire for you guys to sit around.

The four of you, Tom, Harry, Harrison, and you, listen to music and make s’mores.

After stuffing yourselves with s’mores, you guys cuddle up next to the fire until you fall asleep.

Harrison wakes you guys up the next day, you’re running late for filming... again...

The gym.

God damn Tom Holland and his love for the gym.

You guys are work out buddies.

You guys have a routine, treadmill for an hour, then weights for 1/2 an hour. More treadmill, then more weights, and so on.

He thinks it’s really sexy when your face scrunches in concentration on the treadmill, trying to focus on the music playing in your headphones.

Sometimes he loses his footing.

You laugh at him.

And you know damn well that you’re there for the #holytrinity reunion.

You’re standing right next to Harry, taking as many pictures as you can like a proud mother.

You and Tom take some pictures together, a lot of them are you two kissing and messing around.

Tom ends up posting one of your pictures on Instagram instead of Harry’s.

The fandom goes crazy that he used your picture and not Harry’s.

And that he gave credit...

Then, like the gentleman he is, posts an anniversary picture.

It’s this picture that breaks the internet.

[hotsterfield]

Downside of living abroad - Tom Holland

Word count: 1246

You had been living abroad for about 8 months now. You’ve been home 3 weeks ago, but today you got the news from your mom. You grandmother had died last night. You were heartbroken. You always looked up to your grandmother, she had taken care of you when your parents weren’t home. As you became a teen, your parents started to care more about their jobs. They knew you were very independent, but they travelled a lot, so you always turned to her.

When you and your best friend had your first fight at 14, she gave you advise, and helped you apologize to her. At 16, when your first boyfriend broke your heart, she comforted you. She even called your school the next day, saying you were sick. At 18, she helped you make the decision about college. You wanted a gap year, but because of Brexit everything could change if you waited. The future was unclear, but you always wanted to study in England. She told you to never base life decisions on money. It was just paper. Happiness can’t be weight in paper.

So, you took your gap year in London, where you met the love of your life. At least so far, he was. She was the first one to know, and now she was just gone. There was a long way home to your country of origin, and you knew your grandmother didn’t want you to spend the money or the time on going home for her funeral. She never believed in death. When your cat died when you were 13, she told you, how the soul lived on.

You let your fingers gently touch the ink on the paper, where you had just been working. You had drawn her favourite bird, as a way to say goodbye to her. She had been sick for a long time, so you knew her time would eventually come, you just weren’t prepared for it to be now. You had never been so home struck as you were now. You left the drawing at the table, as you went back to your bed, the heartache taking over again.

It had taken you 5 hours to draw the bird, because you had started crying so many times. Now you were full on sobbing, and just holding your teddy bear close to you, trying to find some kind of comfort, but everything felt empty. You felt like there was a hole in your heart, and it was just hurting so bad.

“Babe?” You heard the familiar voice say, as the door to your bedroom opened. You didn’t even look up at him. “Hey, darling. What the matter? What’s the matter?” He ran towards you, and sat down on the floor next to your bed. He looked up at you, concern filling his eyes.

“She’s gone” You whispered. You still couldn’t believe the words that came out of your mouth. “She’s dead, Tom” You added, as you let out yet another sob. You heard him sigh, and you knew he knew what you meant. He knew she was sick, and he knew how much she meant to you.

“Darling, I’m so sorry” He got up, and laid down on the bed, gently pushing you just a bit towards to middle. He didn’t even say a word, as he wrapped his arms around you, and just held you tight. It was usually all you needed to find comfort, but today it didn’t work. If anything, it just made you even more upset, and you knew he felt it too.

“Love, is there anything I can do for you? Do you want to talk about it?” He offered. I just shook my head. He couldn’t bring her back, no one could. You hated having him see you this way. You were a mess. You knew he hated seeing you upset, and even though you were hurting, you didn’t want to upset him.

“Can we just watch movies tonight? I just need a moment alone first” Your voice cracked several times, but you weren’t sobbing as much now. “Alright darling. Whatever you need” He lightly pressed his lips against your cheeks, as he left the bed. You let the tears flow for a while. You knew she was in a better place now. She was flying free like a bird, like she always said she would.  You gathered yourself, and took a deep breath.

You kept reminding yourself that she was in a better place, that she was happy, that she had finally found peace. As your breathing got steadier, you slowly got off the bed. You were still sad, but it was more tolerable. You walked out of the bedroom, to find that Tom was gone. You sat down on the couch, thinking he might just have went to the bathroom. Shortly after the front door opened, and Tom and Harrison walked in, carrying several boxes.

Harrison sat down the boxes, gave you a hug, and left just as quickly as he had come. Then a strange sound came from one of the boxes, almost sounding like a meow. You shot Tom a look, as he brought one of the boxes to you.

“I got you something” He opened the box, and took out a beautiful fluff ball. “Her mother abandoned her. She’s about 4-5 weeks old. I know you used to have a cat back home, and I thought… Maybe it would cheer you up a bit” He told as he gave you the kitten. She was pretty. One of her cheeks were red, and she had red spots all over her white and grey fur. You could feel the tears pressing again, but this time it was happy tears. This boy was just too perfect.

“No! Don’t get upset! I can take her back! I thought you’d be happy. I’m so so sorry!” He panicked as he saw your tears. You couldn’t help but laugh at him, as you held the kitten to your chest. She quickly clung to your shirt, trying to bite your hair. “It’s happy tears. You’re too sweet, Tom. You really didn’t have to. I don’t know what I would do without you right now” His face suddenly turned into one big smile. “I thought we could call her Y/G/N”

“It’s perfect” You laughed again, as the kitten crawled to your shoulder. “Oh shit! I forgot the ice cream. Oh god, I hope it hasn’t melted” He ran to one of the boxes, and put the ice cream in the freezer. The void you had felt in your heart was gone, and you once again realized how much you loved that idiot.

“Tom, what’s in the other boxes?” You asked, as he walked back to you. “Well. I couldn’t just give you a cat. So, I got a litter box, a cat tree, toys, food and more toys” He sat down on the floor and started unpacking the boxes. “I might have gone a bit overboard with the toys” He said as he turned one of the boxes upside down. Possible all cat toys ever invented fell to the floor, making you giggle.

You joined him on the floor. You forgot all about watching movies, and instead you spent the whole night playing with the little fur ball. Once again, Tom made you forget even being upset. He knew exactly what you had needed, even when you didn’t. How could you have gotten so lucky?

(This could be the kitten Tom got you. I based the kitten on her anyway)

[junker-town]

What happens if the NFL adds a 17th game?

Browns QB Baker Mayfield is looking to bounce back in 2020.

Geoff Schwartz’s mailbag is back. This week, he looks at the latest CBA talks, which big-name QBs could be on the move, and why Baker Mayfield should bounce back.

Well, I think I’ve recovered from the Super Bowl. What a week in Miami ending with the Kansas City Chiefs’ first Super Bowl in 50 years. Here are the lessons that teams can take away from the Chiefs’ win.

Now it’s time to focus on the offseason and the upcoming storylines. After a quick break from the mailbag last week during the Super Bowl, let’s get back to it. But first, my regularly scheduled reminder that you can ask me a question for the next mailbag on Twitter or Instagram.

Do you see 17 games coming out of the next CBA? Does it come with each team getting two bye weeks in season? —@countzerokc

Negotiations are heating up as the collective bargaining agreement expires at the end of the 2020 season. Both sides would like to get a deal done before the start of this season to avoid a lockout and also to present a unified front to the networks as rights deals are forthcoming. There’s big money to be made if both sides make nice, which I think they understand.

A way to increase revenue is adding another game and possibly another two playoff teams. More games = higher TV rights deals and more money for all.

Of course, the owners would get more money than the players. Currently, they are proposing moving the players’ cut from 47 percent to 48.5 percent. While that is an increase, I’m not sure it’s enough for the added risk on the players’ bodies. We are partners in this game and should have a 50-50 cut in the profits.

But whether or not I like the revenue split, it appears 17 games is going to happen. When the number of games does increase, another bye week will be added. In addition, the roster size needs to increase from 53 to 58.

With an additional game and two extra weeks, plus another round of playoffs, you need more bodies. The gameday roster is set at 46, and I’d increase that to near 50 as well. Lastly, the NFL needs another IR to return spot.

Biggest free agent of the offseason ending up elsewhere: who and where? —@Dougiedrizzle

Quarterback is the only position that moves the needle for free agent signings. Everyone is hoping Tom Brady is out in New England, but I don’t expect that to happen. His best chance to win is staying in a Patriots uniform.

With Brady likely staying put, I think Cam Newton would be the biggest signing (or trade). It appears the Panthers are going to rebuild on the fly, and I just don’t expect Newton to be part of that, even if he’s healthy.

Injury concerns are part of the Newton discussion, but if we are to assume he’s healthy, then he’s 100 percent starting in the NFL next season. Newton has improved his accuracy and we know he’s a “gamer.” So where would he go? Chicago seems like the obvious answer, but I think the LA Chargers would be the best option. The Chargers need some juice and Newton would bring just that. There’s also plenty of talent to work with in Los Angeles, and I think he’d help the team win.

Is there any quarterback who could have a bounce-back season in 2020? —@sam_thilman

There are two quarterbacks who pop into my head for bounce-back seasons.

The first is Baker Mayfield, who had no chance last season under Freddie Kitchens. Now he’s got a competent head coach and staff, and it appears Mayfield has learned his lesson about handling himself off the field. He spent Super Bowl media week telling anyone who’d listen that he���s changing his approach off the field. He should. But we shouldn’t forget that Mayfield is a talented quarterback who’s got lots of weapons around him. If he fixes his attitude and has a better playcaller, which he does, Mayfield should rebound in his third season with the Browns.

The other is Sam Darnold, who was impressive early in the season and there were high hopes for him. Then, he got sick and missed a month.

Afterward, it took a while for him to get into a rhythm, and the Jets were already dead in the water. If everyone is healthy, I think Darnold will play well in 2020.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Flood my Mornings: Thanks

Anon said: If the stable chapter was in October doesn’t Bree have a birthday coming up?  how is she going to do with the terrible twos ?

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.

See all past installments via Bonnie’s Master List

Previous installment: Eggs (Attack of the Pregnancy Brain!) 

November 23rd, 1950

“Happy Thanksgiving, Frasers!” Marian Harper sang out as she opened the door.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” we chorused in return, arms full of Bree and wine and basket of lemon meringue pie.

“Oof, come in out of the rain,” she clucked, ushering us into the warmth of her cozy foyer. “Though I guess we should thank our lucky stars it’s only rain, not the blizzard they’re getting down south!” 

“Oh, aye,” Jamie agreed, deftly extricating Bree from her raincoat while still holding her. “Made it a bit slow-going on the drive over, but much preferable to snow.” 

“And the rain’s good luck for Miss Bree! Happy BIRTHDAY, sweet pea!”

Thus addressed, Bree giggled and lurched forward into Marian’s arms, surprising all of us. 

“Glad to see she’s finally getting less intent on clinging only to Mama and Da,” I laughed. 

Jamie helped me out of my coat and sweetly kissed my cheek as we followed Marian into the living room. “I suppose being properly two years of age makes a difference, after all!”

Earlier that day 

“Our wee lass doesna appear to be verra sensible of the grand occasion, Sassenach.”

I wiped my hands and turned quickly from the stove (which YES, I’d managed to turn on, thank you very much), beaming. Sure enough, Bree seemed about as interested in festivities as the average boulder. She had both arms around Jamie’s neck and was making it quite clear she was not in the mood to be up and about.

“Well, I suppose she doesn’t remember her last one, little as she was,” I conceded, coming close to tickle Bree lightly in the side. “Guess what, lovey-dove? It’s your BIRTHDAY!”

The dramatic excitement in my tone made her bolt upright at once, hair wild: curlywig to end all curlywigs. “S’bird-day?” she demanded.

“Yes, baby, it’s your birthday!”

“What-is ‘at, Mama? Mama?” She continued to screw her face up at me in concentration as Jamie buckled her in to the high chair. “What-IS ‘at, bird-day? Mama? Mama, what?”  

“It means ,” Jamie offered, settling next to her and putting out one of his hands for hers, “the day you were *born,* a leannan.”

“What-is-it, ‘borrnd,’ Daddy?”

“It means the day God gave ye to Mama and me,” he said patiently, “So, it’s a verra special day, aye?”

“What-is-’at?” she said immediately, lacing her fingers together and flapping them about. “Daddy, dinna kennit. What is-’at ‘spedchill’?”

Jamie sighed, love and exasperation so perfectly mingled in that way unique to parents. “’Special’ means…the verra best. Just like you, sweet wee cub.”

“See my-dese jammies?” she chirped, changing direction with lightning speed. “Dey’re porpoor, Daddy, see’um?”

“Aye,” he laughed, “I see, a leannan.” 

She pulled at the fabric of her top. “Dey’re spedchill?” 

“Aye, those are verra SPECIAL purple Jammies,”  he said, meeting my eye and trying not to laugh.

“Your birthday,” I said significantly, walking over to them with Bree’s breakfast held high, “is the day where Mama and Daddy talk about how JUST how much we LOVE our Bree.” I bent and latched onto her sweet, dimpled cheek in a huge, long mmmmmm-ing kiss and Jamie came in to do the same on the other. Bree, caught between us in a smooch sandwich, was giggling so hard she was fit to choke.

“Those are your first presents,” I said pulling back. “Two kisses for your second birthday. And here’s the next!” I slid the plate onto the tray in front of her for inspection.

“Sassenach….That is…” Jamie looked up at me with the queerest expression on his face. “…the *Cutest* thing I’ve ever seen.”

It was little more than a circle with two lopsided ears, but I’d embellished a snout with banana slices and chocolate chips for nose and eyes, and powdered sugar to top things off. 

Yes, it was fairly bloody adorable.

Bree squealed. “Issa—Lookint-’im-that-wee BEAR, Daddy!” She hooted in delight and then began promptly to demolish said wee bear.

“You’d best slow down, mo chridhe!” Jamie laughed. “He’s going to roar in your tummy for gobbling him up so fast!” 

Bree’s mouth was so full she couldn’t reply, but there came a happy, muffled *mmphurr!?!* that signified her excitement to see this play out as soon as humanly (bearly?) possible.

“So neither of you have ever had Thanksgiving before?” Tom asked as he poured Jamie a glass of wine in the sitting room.

“No, indeed!” I settled back onto the sofa with a cup of tea. “A singularly American holiday, this one.”

Tom furrowed his brows. “But you were here stateside last year too, weren’t you, Claire?”

“Oh, yes, well….Yes, but I wasn’t in the going-out frame of mind, to be honest.”

“It was a different life, before you came back, Jamie,” Marian said knowingly, beaming from the floor, where Bree was sitting on her lap playing with her birthday present from the Harpers. “We’re glad you did.”

“As am I, a nighean,” he said warmly to her, then met eyes with me. Glad doesna even begin to express it. 

It would have been a thoroughly lovely moment, except morning sickness had come a-calling with a VENGEANCE today, and I had to close my eyes while yet another urge to vomit abated. 

Jamie noticed and made as if to come to me, but just then, the doorbell rang, followed almost immediately thereafter by Della O’Malley running head-on into Jamie and nearly spilling his wine as she barreled around the corner. He managed to catch her with his free hand, and she looked as though he’d hung the bloody moon. “Hi, Mr. Fraser,” she said breathlessly, gazing up into his face.

“Happy Thanksgiving to ye, Miss Della.” He kissed her hand, which sent her into paroxysms.  Jesus H. Christ, the girl needed a cold shower, pronto. 

Thankfully, though, it seemed her glow wasn’t *entirely* due to infatuation with Jamie. “Claire! Claire, guess what?” she said, bouncing in my direction.

“Peter asked you to go steady?” She’d been talking about this boy for weeks, it was about time he made a move. 

“YES!!!” she squealed, thudding into a chair next to me. “Can you BELIEVE IT!??!”

“Wine, Claire?” Tom said, coming over with a glass.  

“Oh, no, thank you.”

“Whisky, then?

“No, thank you, Tom, I’m all—” Good Heavens, I nearly burped in the poor man’s face, but managed to choke back the wave of acute nausea and croak, “— all set with my tea.” 

I could have sworn Marian gave me a suspicious look, but thankfully, Jamie came to my aid. “So, from what I gather, the festivity centers around coming together and eating in a spirit of gratitude. But that’s about all I ken of it. Is there more?” 

I had told him the story earlier that morning, in fact, but I was grateful for the diversion while Tom gave the Proud Son of Massachusetts recitation of the Thanksgiving tale. 

Jamie nodded in approval. “Thanks be to God for the kindness of the native folk, then. I must say, I enjoy hearing tales of anyone that managed to fly in the face of the English crown—Sorry Sassenach,” he added with a grin.

“Does Scotland not belong to England?” Della asked, bewildered. 

“Depends on who ye ask,” Jamie laughed. “Suffice it to say, there’s a reason the marriage between Claire and me raised no small number of eyebrows.” 

“But you married anyway,” Della swooned, “how roMANTIC!!” 

Jamie grinned and sat down next to me. “Verra romantic indeed.” He saw my pallor and squeezed my hand, speaking low so only I could hear. “Are ye feeling alright, Sassenach?” 

“Bit queasy,” I admitted, resisting the urge to clutch my abdomen. 

“Can I get ye anything?” 

“No,” I whispered, squeezing his hand. “But thank you. Just have to wait for young Fraser here to settle down.” 

He smiled and ducked his head, trying not to let the others see the direction of his tender gaze. 

We had agreed not to announce the pregnancy until the three-month mark, as was customary. We knew better than anyone that tragedy could still strike after the first trimester, but had decided that for Brianna’s sake, at least, it was best to wait until the highest risk of miscarriage was past….even though acknowledging the possibility of losing another child sent claws of fear tearing at my heart. 

But I’d carried one child safely; Lord willing, I could do so again.  

Please, Lord, keep this little one safe.

Jamie wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me closer. “I am thankful, today, ye ken?” he whispered. 

“Oh?” I murmured back, looking into his eyes, curious, but already smiling from the tone in his voice. “Whatever for?” 

“For our daughter. For you carrying her. Giving her life, this day two years ago. For—” His voice caught, just barely. “—For how ye went on living when ye didna wish to…” He gently touched my face. “For working as hard as ye do, at home and at the hospital….For being my wife. For….well…” He very discreetly touched my belly. “For our children. And for taking care of us in this new world”

I ran my hand down the side of his face, unable to speak as I kissed him. Come what might in 1951, never had I had a year in which there was so much for which to give thanks as 1950.

“I’m going to shrivel up and DIE from how much you love each other,” came Della’s tremulous threat. “Just you WAIT.”

[more to come]

[elias-prep]

Johnny Darling is the son of John Darling and is a twenty year old sophomore in university. His sexuality is heterosexual/heteromantic. Johnny grew up in London, England. He looks a lot like Tom Holland. Johnny is currently taken!

Let’s dance to joy division, and celebrate the irony…  

Although his father never shared his tales of Neverland and the magical adventures he’d had nor encouraged for his bright imagination, Johnny turned out to be quite the spirit of youthfulness. His father, John Darling, was always a busy man who knew a great deal about, (or pretended to, at least), stocks and shares, and who couldn’t find time to be with his son. His mother was also quite busy practicing law, and therefore left Johnny in the care of various nannies throughout his childhood. They were the ones who taught him to believe in things like pirates, and pixies, and great, flying ships. They fed his imagination, serving him piping hot adventures for breakfast, a heaping lunch of fairytales and fables, and a supper that consisted of succulent legends of bravery. The boy first heard of Peter Pan from his Auntie Wendy, who used to babysit on occasion, and would gather all the children in her lap and around her feet to wistfully recall her adventures with the boy who rode the wind’s back like a galloping stallion. Johnny retreated to the Davies house quite a lot, befriending his younger cousin, Jenna, along the way. The two of them became thick as thieves, despite their age difference. When he was twelve, he would take her on adventures in Kensington Gardens, spilling secrets to the fairy rings they spotted, in hopes that the pixies might be lingering and grant them wishes. They got into pickles here and there at both of their homes, by painting maps in the cupboards and on their parent’s cloth napkins. Part of him loved hanging around with Jenna because she helped him feel like a little kid again, and that was what he wanted more than anything: to always be a little boy and to have carefree fun. But all children grow up.

Johnny was absolutely livid when his parents told him that he couldn’t just be a foolish little boy all of his life. Who were they to dictate if and when he had to grow up? As it turned out, they had nothing to do with it, and it was his cursed body that decided to do it itself. He moped around the house for days at a time, feigning sickness here and there to get off school, and hated himself the lower his voice dropped. It was his auntie Wendy that helped him feel better about it; she told him that everyone grows up, but not everyone has to stop being a child. “What’s the point in being grown up,” she had quoted to him one day, “if you can’t be childish sometimes?” However, this translated to the fourteen year old to mean “you can be as childish as you want for as long as you want.” From then on out, Johnny always took a recess from school around midday (even when they stopped giving an allotted time for outdoor breaks), which caused quite a few calls home from the headmaster. Where he used to draw on the sidewalks with chalk, Johnny took to spray painting his artwork instead, branching out and painting on buildings, street signs, and police station bins. As he grew older, he started getting into more and more trouble for these things. At first there were just reprimands and warnings, suspensions and groundings; but then one night the police brought Johnny home for breaking into school to spray paint a mural on the newly blanched bathrooms, and his parents were told that he was to show up for community service the next day. Soon, Johnny was scrubbing artwork off walls every Saturday and Sunday. To the law men and his father’s dismay, Johnny had taken delight in performing the tasks they put him to. It had all been a great game to him; as though he’d been caught aboard the Jolly Roger and Hook forced him to clean the ship for near a month.

This, while it made him stop tagging everything he saw, didn’t break Johnny’s spirits. He was still very young at heart, and enjoyed living like a child. His room was always decorated in space posters, cartoons, costumes, and comic books. Other than keeping his drawings to sketchbooks and canvases, Johnny would change no more in the world of grownups. Or so he thought. The girl that made him feel something strange twisting in the pit of his stomach was a bright redheaded girl in his last class of the day. While history generally bored Johnny, he found it infinitely more exciting to be in when sitting behind the girl that smelled of baby powder and cinnamon chewing gum. Her name was Lucy, and Johnny was infatuated. It was the first time that anyone made him feel nervous; sweaty palms, jittery jaw, and shaky knees were all new to the boy. And while it was new and exciting, it also made him feel a little wild; like it was an adventure that he was ready to take on. The day that he finally worked up the courage to ask her out for ice cream, Lucy wasn’t in school. She wasn’t in the next day, or the rest of the week. And when he finally asked the teacher when she’d be back, he told Johnny that Lucy had moved to Wales. Johnny was crushed but he was a resilient boy, and soon was back to his old self; outgoing and excited for the next new thing.

Everything is going wrong but we’re so happy…

Being very go with the flow, Johnny is excited to start university at Elias Prep. He hopes to make some new friends, and have adventures in his new school. He also wants to take a few art classes; it can’t hurt to make art on things that people actually want you to make art on. In addition to all of this, Johnny subconsciously is looking for someone to make him feel the way the girl in his history class had, minus the butterfly feeling in his stomach and the ache in his chest. He wants love, but is also very much against all that it entails. If he falls in love with someone new and starts dating, does that mean the end of his childhood?

Personality:

+ Fun-loving, Friendly, Creative

- Naive, Trouble Maker, Clueless

[global-news-station]

Dr. Gopi Patel recalls how powerless she felt when New York’s Mount Sinai Hospital overflowed with COVID-19 patients in March.

Guidance on how to treat the disease was scant, and medical studies were being performed so hastily they couldn’t always be trusted.

“You felt very helpless,” said Patel, an infectious disease doctor at the hospital. “I’m standing in front of a patient, watching them struggle to breathe. What can I give them?”

While there is still no simple answer to that question, a lot has changed in the six months since an entirely new coronavirus began sweeping the globe.

Doctors say they’ve learned enough about the highly contagious virus to solve some key problems for many patients. The changes could be translating into more saved lives, although there is little conclusive data.

Nearly 30 doctors around the world, from New Orleans to London to Dubai, told Reuters they feel more prepared should cases surge again in the fall.

“​We are well-positioned for a second wave,” Patel said. “We know so much more.”

Doctors like Patel now have:

*A clearer grasp of the disease’s side effects, like blood clotting and kidney failure

*A better understanding of how to help patients struggling to breathe

*More information on which drugs work for which kinds of patients.

They also have acquired new tools to aid in the battle, including:

*Widespread testing

*Promising new treatments like convalescent plasma, antiviral drugs and steroids

*An evolving spate of medical research and anecdotal evidence, which doctors share across institutions, and sometimes across oceans.

Despite a steady rise in COVID-19 cases, driven to some extent by wider testing, the daily death toll from the disease is falling in some countries, including the United States. Doctors say they are more confident in caring for patients than they were in the chaotic first weeks of the pandemic, when they operated on nothing but blind instinct.

In June, an average of 4,599 people a day died from COVID-19 worldwide, down from 6,375 a day in April, according to Reuters data.

New York’s Northwell Health reported a fatality rate of 21% for COVID-19 patients admitted to its hospitals in March. That rate is now closer to 10%, due to a combination of earlier treatment and improved patient management, Dr. Thomas McGinn, director of Northwell’s Feinstein Institutes for Medical Research, told Reuters.

“I think everybody is seeing that,” he said. “I think people are coming in sooner, there is better use of blood thinners, and a lot of small things are adding up.”

Even nuts-and-bolts issues, like how to re-organize hospital space to handle a surge of COVID-19 patients and secure personal protective equipment (PPE) for medical workers, are not the time-consuming, mad scrambles they were before.

“The hysteria of who’d take care of (hospital staff) is not there anymore,” said Dr. Andra Blomkalns, head of emergency medicine at Stanford Health Care, a California hospital affiliated with Stanford University. “We have an entire team whose only job is getting PPE.”

To be sure, the world is far from safe from a virus that continues to rage. It is expected to reach two grim milestones in the next several days: 10 million confirmed global infections and 500,000 deaths. As of Thursday evening, more than 9.5 million people had tested positive for the coronavirus, and more than 483,000 had died, according to Reuters data. The United States remains the epicenter of the pandemic, and cases are rising at an alarming pace in states like Arizona, Florida and Texas.

There is still no surefire treatment for COVID-19, the disease caused by the new virus, which often starts as a respiratory illness but can spread to attack organs including the heart, liver, kidneys or central nervous system. Scientists are at least months away from a working vaccine.

And while medical knowledge has improved, doctors continue to emphasize that the best way for people to survive is to avoid infection in the first place through good hygiene, face coverings and limited group interaction.

Dr. Ramanathan Venkiteswaran, medical director of Aster Hospitals in the United Arab Emirates, said COVID-19 will likely result in permanent changes in medicine and for the general public on “basic things like social distancing, wearing of masks and hand washing.”

LEARNING ON THE FLY

In the medical field, change can be slow, with years-long studies often needed before recommendations are altered. But protocols for COVID-19 have evolved at lightning speed.

In Brazil, São Paulo-based Hospital Israelita Albert Einstein, one of the country’s leading private hospital networks, has updated its internal guidelines for treating coronavirus patients some 50 times since the outbreak began earlier this year, according to Dr. Moacyr Silva Junior, an infectious disease specialist at the center. Those guidelines govern questions such as which patients are eligible for which drugs, how to handle patients with breathing problems, and the use of PPE like masks, gowns and gloves.

“In only three months, a resounding amount of scientific work on COVID-19 has been published,” he said.

At Stanford Health Care, treatment guidelines changed almost daily in the early weeks of the pandemic, Blomkalns said. She described a patchwork approach that began by following guidelines established by the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, then modifying them to reflect a shortage of resources, and finally adding new measures not addressed by the CDC, such as how to handle pregnant healthcare workers.

The new coronavirus has been particularly vexing for doctors because of the many and often unpredictable ways it can manifest. Most people infected experience only mild flu-like symptoms, but some can develop severe pneumonia, stroke and neurological disease. Doctors say the biggest advance so far has been understanding how the disease can put patients at much higher risk for blood clots. Most recently, doctors have discovered that blood type might influence how the body reacts to the virus.

“We developed specific protocols, such as when to start blood thinners, that are different from what would be done for typical ICU patients,” said Dr. Jeremy Falk, pulmonary critical care specialist at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles.

Around 15% of COVID-19 patients are at risk of becoming sick enough to require hospitalization. Scientists have estimated that the fatality rate could be as high as 5%, but most put the number well below 1%. People with the highest risk of severe disease include older adults and those with underlying health conditions like heart disease, diabetes and obesity.

While rates of COVID-19 infection have recently been rising in many parts of the United States, the total number of U.S. patients hospitalized with COVID-19 has been steadily falling since a peak in late April, according to the CDC.

Many hospitals report success with guidelines for “proning” patients – positioning them on their stomachs to relieve pressure on the lungs, and hopefully stave off the need for mechanical ventilation, which many doctors said has done more harm than good.

“At first, we had no idea how to treat severely ill patients when we (ventilate),” said Dr. Satoru Hashimoto, who directs the intensive care division at Kyoto Prefectural University of Medicine in Japan. “We treated them in the fashion we treated influenza,” only to see those patients suffer serious kidney, digestive and other problems, he said.

Hospitals say increased coronavirus testing – and faster turnaround times to get results – are also making a difference.

“What has really helped us triage patients is the availability of rapid testing that came on about six weeks ago,” said Falk of Cedars-Sinai. “Initially, we had to wait two, three or even four days to get a test back. That really clogged up the COVID areas of the hospital.”

Faster, wider testing also helps conserve PPE by identifying the negative patients around whom doctors don’t have to wear as much gear, said Dr. Saj Patel, who treats non-critical patients at the University of California San Francisco Medical Center. “You can imagine how much PPE we burned through” waiting for test results, he said.

Hospitals around the world acted early to restructure operations, including floor layouts, to isolate coronavirus patients and reduce exposure to others. It wasn’t always smooth, but doctors say they’re figuring out how to do it more efficiently.

“Our hospital infrastructure, and the way that we … manage people coming through the door is a lot slicker than it was earlier in the epidemic,” said Dr. Tom Wingfield, a clinical lecturer at the Liverpool School of Tropical Medicine in Liverpool, England.

‘THE PRESIDENT’S DRUG’

Hospitals said some of their early hunches about best treatments for COVID-19 patients ended up being wrong. Case in point: use of the anti-malaria pill hydroxychloroquine.

It gained attention in March, when U.S. President Donald Trump began publicly touting it. Early reports showed the drug could have some benefit, and hospitals, desperate for solutions, started giving it to critically sick patients. But subsequent trial data have told a different story, suggesting the drug is not effective for treatment or prevention, and might even cause harm. Other clinical trials of the drug are still underway.

Dr. Mangala Narasimhan, regional director of critical care at Northwell Hospital in New York, recalled the uncertainty around hydroxychloroquine. The hospital used it early on, but stopped after the negative studies were published. “That was one of our mainstays of treatment in the beginning,” Narasimhan said. “We didn’t have anything else.”

Trump’s loud support for the drug turned the medical debate into a political one. That happened in Brazil, too, when far-right President Jair Bolsonaro fiercely supported hydroxychloroquine. Hospital Sírio-Libanês, in São Paulo, is one of the many hospitals around the globe that have now abandoned it.

Some patients at Sírio-Libanês refused to be part of clinical trials involving what they called the “president’s drug,” said Dr. Mirian Dal Ben, an epidemiologist there, while others demanded to be treated with it.

The lingering questions about use of hydroxychloroquine highlight the hazards of quickly moving science. Hospitals normally rely on fully vetted research published by prominent medical journals like the Lancet and the New England Journal of Medicine to flag important medical findings. But as the pandemic built, so did the number of so-called “pre-print” studies that have not been peer-reviewed.

The Montpellier University Hospital in southern France used hydroxychloroquine on severely ill patients until the government banned the substance in May.

“I have no major regrets when looking back on the decisions that we took,” said Dr. Jacques Reynes, head of infectious and tropical diseases. “But I would say that, at the beginning, we were somewhat in a fog.”

USING WHAT’S AT HAND

But even if hydroxychloroquine looks unlikely as an effective COVID-19 treatment, hospitals continue to try new medications – both by repurposing older drugs and exploring novel therapies. Patients are being enrolled in hundreds of coronavirus clinical trials launched in the past three months.

Many hospitals said they are seeing success with the use of plasma donated by survivors of COVID-19 to treat newly infected patients.

People who survive an infectious disease like COVID-19 are generally left with blood containing antibodies, which are proteins made by the body’s immune system to fight off a virus. The blood component that carries the antibodies, known as convalescent plasma, can be collected and given to new patients.

Early results from a study at New York’s Mount Sinai Hospital found that patients with severe COVID-19 who were given convalescent plasma were more likely to stabilize or need less oxygen support than other similar hospital patients. But results from other studies have been mixed, and doctors still await findings from a rigorously-designed trial. And availability of plasma varies between regions.

At Henry Ford Hospital in Detroit, Michigan, “anecdotally everyone can provide stories” of the benefits of plasma, said Dr. John Deledda, the hospital’s chief medical officer.

But in rural New Mexico, hospitals that care for largely underserved populations struggle to find it. “There’s a limited number of blood centers” that can provide plasma, said Valory Wangler, chief medical officer at Rehoboth McKinley Christian Health Care Services, in Gallup, New Mexico. Until trial data is more conclusive, plasma is “not something we’re pursuing actively,” she said.

Dr Abdullatif al-Khal, head of infectious diseases at Qatar’s Hamad Medical Corporation and a co-chair of the country’s pandemic preparedness team, said he saw patients improve after he started using donated plasma early in the course of COVID-19 before the patients deteriorated.

Qatar is also assessing a steroid known as dexamethasone to treat COVID-19. But Khal says he wants to wait for publication of clinical data behind a recent UK study suggesting that the steroid reduced death rates by around a third among the most severely ill COVID-19 patients.

In patients with severe COVID-19, the immune system can overreact, triggering a potentially harmful cascade. Steroids are an older class of drugs that suppress that inflammatory response. But they can also make it easier for other viral or bacterial infections to take hold – making doctors leery of their use in a hospital setting or in patients with early-stage COVID-19.

Some countries, including Bahrain and the United Arab Emirates, reported using HIV drugs lopinavir and ritonavir with some success. Clinical trials, though, have suggested little benefit, and they aren’t widely used in the United States.

MIDNIGHT DELIVERY

Many of the doctors who spoke with Reuters were bullish on the use of remdesivir, the only drug so far shown to be effective against the coronavirus in a rigorous clinical trial. The antiviral developed by California-based Gilead Sciences Inc (GILD.O) was shown to reduce the length of hospital stays for COVID-19 patients by about a third, but hasn’t been proven to boost survival.

Remdesivir is designed to disable the mechanism by which certain viruses, including the new coronavirus, make copies of themselves and potentially overwhelm their host’s immune system.

It is available under emergency approvals in several countries, including the United States. But Gilead’s donated supplies are limited, and distribution and availability are uneven.

Dr. Andrew Staricco, chief medical officer at McLaren Health Care, which operates 11 hospitals across Michigan, recalls the urgency to obtain remdesivir early on. He got an email from Michigan’s health department on May 9, a week after the U.S. Food & Drug Administration authorized the drug for use in treating COVID-19. The health department said it had received a small batch from the federal government, and planned to dole it out to local hospitals based on need. Staricco wrote back, saying he had 15 to 18 critically ill patients, but was given enough to treat just four.

The drug was so precious, he said, that state police troopers were responsible for transporting it to the hospital – which they did, dropping it off around 1 a.m. the next morning.

Health officials originally directed remdesivir for use on the most critically ill patients. But doctors later found they got the best results administering it earlier.

“We started finding that, actually, the sooner you get treated with it, the better,” Staricco said. “We’ve revisited our criteria for giving it to patients three different times.”

Data on the drug, he said, is still scarce. But his anecdotal observations on the benefits of early treatment were echoed by several U.S. doctors.

‘COPY-CATTING’

Gilead on Monday said it aims to manufacture another 2 million courses of remdesivir this year, but did not comment on how it plans to distribute, or sell, those supplies for use by hospitals. The company has licensed the antiviral to several generic drugmakers, who will be allowed to sell the medication in over 100 low-income nations.

Although much about the coronavirus remains unknown, a key reason hospitals say they now are more prepared owes to teamwork.

Many doctors described a kind of unofficial network of information sharing.

In hard-hit Italy, Dr. Lorenzo Dagna of the IRCCS San Raffaele Scientific Institute in Milan, organized conference calls with institutions in the United States and elsewhere to share experiences and anecdotes treating COVID-19 patients.

McLaren’s Staricco said the Michigan hospital chain adopted its policy on use of blood thinners by looking at peers at Detroit Medical Center and Vanderbilt University Medical Center.

As more institutions put their guidelines online, he said, there was “lots of copy-catting going on.”

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