#LIW gone wrong | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohbrightnewday · 4 years

Text

The Detrimental Effect of Lemon Tea

This is for the wonderful @moan-jeutas , whose brand I am coming for with this LiW fic. Also @the-final-wife , this is the fic!

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

Joan has been lying to the others for weeks about her caffeine consumption. These are the effects of when it gets too bad.

TW: Vomiting, brief mentions of selfharm/suicidal ideation, panic attacks, and self-deprecation.

Three was not enough today. In fact, three hadn’t been enough for a week – Joan had been having at least four daily. But four wasn’t enough today either. And so, as she brewed her black lemon tea in the kettle of the shared Ladies in Waiting dressing room, Joan added six caffeine tablets to her tea. Hopefully, it would be enough to last her, she thought, disregarding the two she had already had previously in the day. Joan hadn’t slept for just going on four days now – all her work was much too important.

The tea boiled quickly as she poured the water over the tablets. Joan dissolved the tablets before she put the tea bag in because they had to be dissolved before anyone else saw her do such things. Joan knew how awful it was to lie to everyone – how Bessie had smiled and complimented her on taking control of her caffeine intake made her heart hurt. The smiles shared whenever Joan walked on stage for warm-up holding her lemon scented travel mug made her feel… bad. She knew what she was doing was worse than her coffee.

Shaking her head to rid the thoughts, she quickly shoved the tea bag into the travel mug and began to stir it as Bessie walked in. Bessie was clutching her own mug and a box of Whittard Strawberry and Vanilla tea. It was her favourite type, even if it was shockingly expensive.

“Is the water still warm?” Bessie asked, setting down her own things, noticing the steaming hot tea in Joan’s hand.

Joan shrugged, taking a large gulp of her tea. It was too hot, but the last two caffeine pills had stopped working. “Probably, I just made mine.”

“I really must try your lemon tea one day,” Bessie smiled, hastily pouring her water into her mug as warm-up had just been announced.

Joan laughed; an anxious spike shot through her chest. What if she asked to try it today? “Ha, yeah! It’s cheaper than yours, anyway.”

Joan picked up her mug, taking another few large sips as her chest fluttered slightly. It was normal, this happened. Without much more words for fear of accidently disclosing to Bessie that she still had a caffeine problem, she began to make way to stage for the warm- up. It was a time she enjoyed, it always helped her to feel less lonely, everyone around her, singing and enjoying the stuff she was playing.

Warm-up always seemed to go so quickly. Joan always got so excited and into it, the caffeine just helping ever so slightly with that. She felt great, even if her stomach was turning a little and her chest wouldn’t stop fluttering, but still, she felt like she was on top of the world.

“You’re cheery today!” Jane smiled towards the pianist during the physical warm up, noticing the bright smile which had been plastered on her face the entire time.

Jane? Noticed her happiness? Joan beamed, practically unable to find the words to thank her. So instead, she smiled wide and kept with playing the upbeat tune on her piano, taking large gulps of her now lukewarm tea every so often.

After the warmup ended all too quickly, she rushed back to her dressing room with more energy than she had had in a long time, her worries about the others finding out about her caffeine problem still didn’t even attempt to cross her mind. In their shared dressing room, she took a seat and finished up her tea. Her entire body felt like it was vibrating, but she didn’t quite mind it yet.

She only truly began to mind when it was the five minute call and her hands were trembling so much she couldn’t get into her own costume. As she struggled, her chest was heavy while trying to catch a breath, panic was coursing through her body. Everyone else would be making way down to stage and she couldn’t even get in her costume! After at least the five minutes (if not more) she had just about managed to get into her costume, but it was significantly more uncomfortable and itchier than usual. Sighing, she hung her head low and walked to stage, the happiness waring off quickly.

The disappointed looks from everyone hurt. It was her own fault for being stupid and being late. Stupid. Disappointment. Unworthy. Thoughts rushed through her head as she took position behind her keyboard. All Joan wanted was the feeling of warmup again – all she got was a whirlwind of thoughts, a headache, and the beginning of a stomach-ache.

As the queens did their usual pre-show ritual, Joan sat with her head in her hands, trying to stop the spinning of the world. What was going on? How had she felt so well and great earlier? The first note Joan played into “Ex-wives” was the wrong note and it was quite obvious, receiving quick glares from the other Ladies. But she could barely muster enough will to care anymore; they were always disappointed in her – what was so new now?

All too suddenly, Joan felt a sharp, spiking pain through the right side of her head, and she quivered, closing her eyes tightly for a few seconds. Not a moment later, a cramp began to take grip of her stomach, twisting and turning it until she was nauseous and fighting the urge to clutch her stomach and gasp. Nevertheless, she ignored the feelings. It happened sometimes, she thought, her anxiety caused awful stomach cramps often like this. Joan didn’t associate it with the amount of caffeine pills she’d taken even if she had felt this way many a time due to caffeine overdosing.

It was getting hard to sit up right by Catherine of Aragon’s speech before “No-way”. The cramps refused to let up; it felt like someone was trying to crawl their way out of Joan’s stomach by tearing up her flesh inside out. She was gasping for breaths as nausea took its awful hold on her by the start of Catherine’s singing. But still, she kept playing because she couldn’t selfishly hurt the show like that – the show before herself, always.

Gasping for air while her stomach turned and her hands trembled playing the keys, Joan looked a complete state. Pallor was setting in and beads of sweat were running down her face which was set in a grimace. It hurt so much. It felt so awful. She felt so helpless. For as long as she could, Joan kept trying to play with as much vigour as she usually would, but she could only keep it up halfway through the song before the notes started to come out wrong and her eyes began to glaze over with tears of pain and upset.

Finally, by the end of “No-way”, Joan pushed herself from her keys and wrapped her arms around her stomach, pleading to herself that no one saw. Metallic tasting saliva was filling her mouth at an alarming rate and she was sure that if she didn’t get off stage within a matter of moments, she would vomit all over her keyboard. Joan couldn’t handle the shame and embarrassment of either.

Gripping anxiety kept her in place. Her heart was beating so fast she was sure she’d go into cardiac arrest, her hands were trembling involuntarily, so much so that they had started to go tingly at the fingertips, and her head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool to the point that her eyes were having a hard time focusing.

She had to get off stage now or else she would throw up.

The start to the Anne Boleyn interlude would be a relatively enjoyable short piece which Joan got to play, but now, even the idea of a second more of music made her head ache. It had gone from shooting pain behind her right eye to the feeling of her entire head being constricted in a tight rubber band. Why was she feeling so plainly awful?

Without anymore hesitation, Joan got up on jelly-like legs. She had no one to inform as she was the person they went to whenever they had to inform someone that they had to leave stage. Like a stumbling lost puppy, Joan quickly clambered off stage, breath fast and heavy. The set of stairs down to the dressing room were now officially the worst thing ever invented, as Joan deemed them.

By the time she had reached the bottom of the stairs, she was close to collapsing into herself and vomiting right then and there – it would be so much easier than having to get to the bathroom which there was only one of.

“Joan?” a voice came – Lizzie, the stage manager.

“Huh?” she replied, her voice weak as the contents of her stomach tried to force their way out.

“Do we need to send Jamie on?” Lizzie asked, seeing at side glance Joan’s pallor and obvious illness.

Panicking from someone seeing her in the state she was, Joan shook her head, frantic. No of course Jamie didn’t need to go on, Joan totally hadn’t just come off stage ill! In retrospect, it was an incredibly stupid decision and caused a show stop which Joan knew she’d get berated about at a later stage.

Joan didn’t see nor hear Lizzie’s response as her stomach cramped violently again and she started to retch. It felt like forever by the time she had locked herself in the tiny stall of the bathroom at the theatre where she was finally free and alone. Usually that would be ideal, but her mind was racing and just about coming to terms with the fact she’d denied an alternate keys player to take her place. Stupid idiot.

However, she didn’t have much time to contemplate the damage which had been done as her body decided it was no longer possible to have just so much caffeine in its system anymore. Usually, whenever Joan threw up after taking too much caffeine, it calmed and settled her stomach a little at least. But this time, it set it to turmoil.

The next thirty minutes were a blur for Joan. It felt like every other moment she was clutching at her stomach and vomiting what was now nothing but bile which burnt her throat. No matter what, however, the cramping and nausea wouldn’t let up. Joan sat curled in on herself, dizzy and shaking, head to her knees wishing she could just end herself.

Once everyone else found her in the state, they’d surely want her off the musical. She had been lying to them for weeks and weeks and was never not being a disappointment or embarrassment; indeed, she wouldn’t be surprised if they never wanted to speak to her again.

Tears began to form in her eyes, spilling suddenly and in rapid succession, just furthering the constricting ache in her head. There was at least twenty minutes left of the show and, even whilst sobbing into her knees, Joan wondered if there was enough time to clean herself up and pretend like everything was fine. Even if it was inevitable, the idea of the people she cared about most hating made her want to claw at her arms and not stop.

However, her plans were quickly thwarted by the wave of nausea that left her re-gagging over the toilet and stomach aching from the sheer emptiness that was caused by her having thrown up so much. Joan was so dizzy… so shaky. All she wanted was to be held by Jane and told it was okay… mayhap on a comfortable sofa and a hot water bottle pressed to her stomach.

But that was never going to happen.

“She doesn’t love you, Joan. You will never take place of Katherine,” Joan spoke to herself, barely above a whisper as it hurt to speak. A shiver ran through her body at the fact Jane would never love her.

Before too long, she heard the familiar voices of the others coming off stage and so, Joan heaved herself off the bathroom floor. Her expression hadn’t changed from no less than a grimace and she was hunched over, sweat dripping from her forehead, and her pupils much more dilated than usual.

Walking out of the bathroom, breathing rapid, Joan accidentally found herself in the queens’ dressing room than her own. Her legs were close enough to giving up from the short walk that she had to find a place to sit down and if that was with the queens where she didn’t belong, she would anyway. Besides, Jane was there.

“Love, are you alright?” Jane asked, her head poking out of her jumper as she went to sit beside Joan, pulling her into a gentle hug.

Why was Jane doing this? She must have an ulterior motive? Joan began to think as she didn’t fully relax into the hug and shook her head. What reason did Jane have to talk with her when Kitty was in the room too.

“We all got so worried when you left. Aren’t you feeling well?” Jane asked again, tentatively reaching a hand to touch her forehead – warm.

“Don’t feel well,” Joan squeaked out, tears brimming her eyes. When did she ever become this important to Jane? Was she important or was this a ploy? Her chest tightened further at the idea that Jane might be doing this for her own benefit.

Before Jane had a chance to reply, an extremely displeasured looking Bessie stormed into the dressing room, shaking her head with a set face, holding a small, blue box. The box of Joan’s caffeine pills.

“Joan, what the hell? What the hell! What are these?” Bessie presented them as Joan’s heart sunk.

It wasn’t long before Maggie rushed in behind her, looking equally displeased. “The show stop? What was that?” she chimed in.

In that moment, Jane snaked her arm away from Joan, realising the thing in Bessie’s hand were the caffeine pills she’d promised she’d thrown away the day she promised she’d stop drinking coffee. How much had Joan been keeping from them?

Shaking her head, Jane stood up. “You overdosed on them, didn’t you?” she asked, kicking herself for missing the signs. The trembling, the dilated pupils, the sweating. All common sighs. She’d seen them all before, but this was the first time Jane had ever felt such disappointment in Joan. If only she had been honest and allowed them to help.

Joan had no words. She had no words to say for the tears falling down her face. All she managed to get out was a small, “I’m sorry”. How could she do this to her friends? She was an utter disappointment to them, they didn’t even need to say it for Joan to feel the disappointment ring off of them all.

Without a second word, Bessie and Maggie walked out whispering something about them not driving Joan home, so she only hoped someone would offer to take her home as she was far too weak and her nausea was on the rise again, so the idea of throwing up in a taxi was not appealing.

But no one offered. They all shot her bone-chilling disapproving glances as they walked out. She was cold, alone and with no where to go. And so, she waited. Surely someone would come back after stage door?

They didn’t.

Joan stayed in the queens’ dressing room overnight, shivering and vomiting every so often. She still felt just so ill. In the end, exhaustion finally took over her and so, she fell asleep on the hard wooden floor, just wishing someone cared enough about her to help her, to not look so annoyed at her all the time. She truly was a useless failure, wasn’t she?

#look at tws!#ladies in waiting #joan on the keys #bessie on the base #maggie on the guitar #maria on the drums #catherine of aragon #angst #pure #no happy ending #it's all sad

33 notes · View notes

canyouhearthelight · 4 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 65

I am so, so sorry for getting this out so late in the day. I know this should have gone up almost eight hours ago. Entirely too much has been going on.

Thank you for bearing with.

“Final systems check,” Grey announced, glancing briefly over from the display and nodding at me.

Noah waved its left liw and vomu in a very human gesture, albeit in multiple. “Proper recordings of every Terran scientific paper in our database are prepared to be communicated directly into your translation implant.”

“He means audio,” I stage-whispered to Conor and Maverick. Tyche had marched out and read them the riot act after she and I cleared the air. Their abashed apologies once she dragged them back were still under consideration, but I felt safer with them in the room.

I was also a bit loopy on the sedatives they had given me for my blood pressure. So sue me.

Rolling her eyes, my sister turned to Antoine. “And the connection?”

“Strong and clear,” he confirmed.

Maverick cleared his throat to get our attention. “If we can stream all this information directly into her implant, why aren’t we using this for learning?”

Antoine leveled a half-scathing glare – I couldn’t tell if I was more impressed he mustered any degree of ‘scathing’ or that he was tired enough to let it slip through – before explaining. “Any information retention will be trivial at best, and that would be largely because of Sophia’s exceptional memory. She is still essentially hearing several lectures in a row and repeating them back as soon as she hears it.”

Poor Maverick looked devastated. Unfortunately, his pout was almost comical, and it took every bit of what little self-control I had left to keep from laughing.

It seemed I wasn’t doing as good a job as I thought, because Tyche turned away with a growl, hands flung in the air. “Okay, papers are queued up, connection to the implant is good. Did we get the medication figured out?”

“Confirmed,” Grey asserted without looking up. “Sophia, you will be in REM sleep, but still lucid. This should let you control the dream and speak to Else.”

“So I’ll be hypnotized.”

Grey scoffed, but Antoine cut them off. “We discussed this, Dr. Hodenson. While you may not believe in hypnosis, it is a proven phenomenon. While difficult to accomplish deliberately, I have witnessed Sophia subject to this mental state.”

“Wait, what?” My neck hurt from turning so fast to look at him.

“When you read. When you cook. When you wrap presents,” he ticked off on his fingers.

“I’m not hypnotized, I’m in the zone,” I argued.

Tyche rolled her neck and cocked an eyebrow at me. “That is literally hypnosis, specifically when you read. I remember seeing you sit in a house with no heat, in January, in shorts and a t-shirt, sweating bullets while reading a book that ended up taking place in Mumbai in summer. You get cravings for whatever foods your favorite characters are eating, even if you hate the food.”

“That’s not hypnosis, that’s suggestion,” Grey stated flatly.

“And hypnosis is the induction of a state of consciousness that makes you particularly susceptible to suggestion,” Antoine pointed out, equally flat. With these two, it was practically a shouting match.

Heading off the galaxy’s calmest blow out, I spoke up. “So, creation’s most boring audiobooks, check. Overkill-quality headphones, check. Deep-fake VR drugs, check.” I pointed at myself with both thumbs, “Stoned and willing guinea pig, double check. Let’s get this done.”

Two hours into spouting off what seemed to be hematological extracts, I was considerably less stoned and significantly less willing.

“A low packed cells volume usually indicablood loss due to cell destruction or failure in bone marrow production, while high mean corpuscular hemoglobin concentrations – “

Please. Stop.

“Oh thank fuck,” I gasped, allowing myself to tune out the stream of information piped directly into my head. “Else, is that you?”

Yes, I am here.

“Well, at least it worked… you’re talking quite a bit better now.” I glanced around at the landscape. While focusing on reciting two hours of scientific papers, I had to ignore it all. Since the last time I was here, I managed to figure out that the Ark in my dreams was an analogue of my health, from Else’s perspective. Right now, everything looked okay. The walls were cracked, but all the pieces were in place. No water. All the lights were functioning. “Also, good to see I’m not dying.”

We wouldn’t let you die. We need you.

“Not all of me,” I pointed out to thin air.

Your hemoglobin, Else’s voice admitted.

I nodded. “That sounds more accurate. You eat iron, right?”

Yes. And there is so much here.

“That sounds sinister,” I mused. Since Else has been able to read my thoughts in the past, I made a point in the dream to speak out loud. It was more for me than the bacteria, since literally all of this interaction was happening in my head anyway. “Is that why you are on the ship.”

I didn’t ask to be here. Humans brought me here.

“The same humans you’re eating. Were you in the core samples we gathered?”

No. I came later.

“But that is the only time we have taken anything on board since we left Earth.” This wasn’t making sense.

I am from the Ark.

“Else, you aren’t making sense,” I took a deep breath. I imagined taking a deep breath. Something. I was definitely getting a very real headache. “If you only came after the core samples, but you come from the Ark, how does that work? Are you another alien race? What planet are you from?”

I am from the Ark.

“I mean what planet – “

No planet. I am from the Ark.

“Wait, what? You mean… Life on Earth evolved from the primordial soup that existed after Earth formed. From… amino acids, then proteins…”

From the oceans, to be simple.

“Right, from the oceans.” I mused. “But we’re in space, with all the radiation you could want, plus exotic trace minerals that may be in those core samples, and a big god-damned – “

Language, Else admonished.

“Oh, now you have a sense of humor,” I huffed. “We have a big lake with all kinds of biological experiments going on in BioLab 2. Is that where you come from?”

Not just the water. Experiments, too.

“Fuck.”

None of that.

“So we made you.”

Yes.

My knees spiked in agony as I hit the deck below my feet. “It was an accident,” I begged in a hoarse whisper. “All the shitty things we have done to ourselves and each other, please tell me it was an accident.”

Did you know if you were an accident before you were told by your parent?

“That is such a low blow,” I scowled. “You and Tyche are the only ones who know that.”

But fair.

“Unfortunately.” I huffed an imaginary lock of hair that just appeared in my face for the sole purpose of doing so. “I am going to assume this was an accident.”

Ouch.

Indulgently, I stomped around, fists clenched, growling the entire time. “I am negotiating with a sentient colony of bacteria, one that humanity made, somehow, and now you have hurt feelings!?” I was screaming by the end of it, and a distant part of my brain registered a chilled sensation in my arm. “Stop sedating me, I’m pissed!” Breathing heavily, I tried to calm down. “I get that it’s insulting, Else, but trust me, you do not want humanity to have made you deliberately. If that was the case, your only actual function is to kill people and destroy buildings.”

I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to live.

“As a former intended entrée, I can sympathize. But you are killing us, Else.” Hot tears filled my eyes. “I’m okay so far, but that is only because Miys is constantly infusing me with freshly made, iron-rich blood. What happens when we’re out of resources? Or reach our destination?”

Nutrient rich plants, engineered to grow on the new planet.

“Conor,” I gasped, covering my mouth as the tears I was trying so hard to hold back fell down my face. “The catnip he gave Tyche. He said it was a failed experiment.”

He does not know he created us. The gift was in good will.

“Is that how you infected her?”

No. She likes to swim. And she loves you.

“Difference between intelligence and sentience: that was exactly the wrong thing to say,” I hissed. “The only body you have are the ones you stole from my family and the crew, so I can’t actually hurt you. But I am this close,” I held my fingers so they were barely not touching, “to having Miys filter you out of our blood and flush you into space. The only reason I am here talking to you is because we knew you were sentient before we realized you were killing us.” Another deep breath. “Try. Again.”

She was infected when she went swimming. It was not intentional. We needed iron.

“Much better.”

We did not mean for the mermaid to be injured so. There was so much iron in her blood. I did not know that taking it away would harm her.

“You harmed us all!” I screamed. “All of us! You made Grey absent-minded and forgetful. You undermined their confidence. You made Conor, Grey, and Antoine angry,” I spat. “The biggest betrayal of all. Three of the calmest, most reasonable people I know, the ones who would have rooted for you, and you took that away from them!”

I –

“Conor and Grey made you!”

Did not know. Not then. But I-we know that now. And we are sorry.

”Are you? Or are you pleading for your life?”

I-we want to live.

“That I believe.”

But we want you to live, even if we are not within you.

“How the fuck do you think we do that? Humans are the only source of iron on the ship.”

I-we am-are bacteria. I-we can be isolated.

“And then, what? Leave you on some poor planet to kill some other species? I hate to tell you, but you went from birth to genocide in alarming fashion. All of humanity that is left, is on this ship, and you are killing what’s left. From what we understand, the Galactic Council would frown on what you’re doing.” I focused on sending the information I had gotten back to Miys and everyone listening in. “I can’t let you do this to another species.”

Barren planet. Old one, where no more life will survive.

“One that is at the end of its life cycle?”

I-we do not believe I-we am-are vulnerable to heat.

I waited patiently for information before I responded. “Miys says we can isolate you and test for you heat resistance before booting you off in a nebula that you can’t fuck up. Is that sufficient?”

Humans cannot live in a nebula.

“We can’t live in a pylon either, but you ate it all the way through.”

<< Prev Masterlist Next >>

#the miys #science fiction #humans are weird #original fiction #humans are space orcs #contagion #aliens #apocalypse #nighmare #virus

91 notes · View notes

oxsix · 5 years

Text

The Long Road to Family

Chapter 8- Just the Four of Us

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

AO3 link

Finally getting round to posting the LIW chapter of this fic

They're strangers, but not for long.

The apartment the four of them have been shacked up in is pretty cramped.

It's London, and according to the people who'd brought them here—that means there's very little available in their price range. And so, the four of them are stuck sharing a tiny, two bedroom apartment, with tiny twin beds for each of them.

And, well, it's awkward to say the least. They're strangers, at best, and here they are, jammed together in this brand new world they've found themselves in. As if the concept of resurrection and a world 500 years advanced from the one you knew weren't big enough revelations; they're also stuck experiencing it all with a group of women they barely know. They may have known of each other before, but they had never properly met.

Maria has always been a self-assured woman, probably over-stepping the line now and then, but she feels tense in this environment. She's worried about what they'll think of her. They all served later Queens, it would be understandable if they held some resentment.

Joan and Maggie have both immediately bagsied beds in the larger room—it has a view overlooking the street, rather than just the next building over—which means that, awkwardly, Maria is going to have to share with Bessie.

Which is a complicated situation in and of itself.

The four of them are essentially strangers, yes, but with the exception of Maria and Bessie. Maria wasn't really sure what to make of her. They had been extraordinarily close when they'd known each other, but Bessie had been fairly young then, and Maria had a tendency to take the younger ladies under her wing.

She liked to keep an eye on them; make sure they were safe. Evidently she had failed with Bessie, then.

What had happened with Henry—not an affair, really, she'd been too young for that then—had driven a wedge between the three of them. The birth of Henry Fitzroy had been awful for Catalina, a particularly heavy blow to her self-worth. A symbol of Henry's ability to beget a son, and therefore, it led many to wonder if Catherine was the problem.

Including the Queen herself.

It was painful, of course, after so many children lost over the years. And Henry had sent Bessie away, out of some misplaced form of respect for his wife. And Maria never saw her again.

Still, Maria thinks that perhaps it had all been a little unfair. She wishes she could have been there for her then. Could have reached out. She wishes she could have looked out for her properly. But telling the King 'no' never ended well for anyone. There were six very good examples of this that came to mind. But so much of life back then, at court, at least, was about appearances. About public perception.

And so they had remained distant. And proper.

And Maria had never been good at communication. She still isn't, really. She doesn't do well with talking, she never knows how to say what she's feeling. There's so many thoughts and ideas that cloud together in her head, she can't put them into words in a way that satisfies what she means. So, instead, she prefers to show it.

She deals mainly in gestures. The grand, sweeping kind that make her feelings clear, without her having to say anything at all. It was what she had done towards the end of her last life—for Catalina.

She hadn't known how to say what she felt, and she had no way of lessening the pain Henry was putting her through. She didn't have any power, or any say. So she had swallowed her pride and broken the rules in a way she would never normally dare. And she had pushed herself to the limit to be there for her Queen. And as she held her old friend while she took her last breaths, Maria knew her feelings would be understood. Catalina knew Maria cared, and she wouldn't die alone. And that was what mattered.

So, this time, Maria decides this might be the best way to reach out. Another gesture. A smaller one, perhaps. But a gesture all the same. Trying to explain how she felt about all of this would probably leave her with a headache, and with an very offended Bessie. Things tend to come out wrong when Maria says them. So, she resolves to take action.

It's worked for her before.

- - -

Bessie doesn't know what to make of all of this. It's a lot, to be fair, to wake up and find the whole world completely changed. And, in all honesty, she doesn't want to be here, dealing with it all in the company of a group of near-strangers.

She knows she should talk to them; get to know them a little. But she can't. Something inside her is fighting back. She's scared—truth be told. She hadn't had much in the way of friends, last time. There had only been Anna, who she'd served towards the end.

Anna was kind-hearted. She was gentle, and had a knack for making everyone in the room love her. It wasn't surprising that she was the only person Bessie had felt truly cared for her. There may have been others before, who'd looked out for her, or even tried to help her—but none of them had stayed.

She had loved her children, too, but even then, she hadn't been able to be as close to them as she wanted. So much of her life was dictated by expectations. She wasn't supposed to be so open and genuinely affectionate. And she'd stayed in line, for fear of the consequences.

Because being a former mistress of the King put her under a lot of scrutiny.

And now she's back to being alone again. Sat by herself on the edge of her mattress—which is too hard. She's not sure if it's such a bad thing. Maybe it's better this way. She wouldn't get hurt, at least. Most of the people who get close to her only hurt her in the end. They told her pretty lies and then left her when she wasn't useful any more.

She should go out there and talk to them; she knows. But she isn't convinced they'll want her. Maggie and Joan seem to have hit it off already—she can hear them laughing from the other room. And Maria hates her. She knows that much. She must.

Bessie had ruined everything for them. And then she'd been sent away. They must have been glad she was gone. She should never have let Henry near her. But then, how could she have told the King no? He was the King. And she was just one of his wife's ladies in waiting. She was no authority in the matter.

So how could she talk to Maria now?

She hears the door to the bedroom creak open slowly. She looks up to see the woman in question enter. She quickly looks away. She thinks she hear Maria sigh, then. But she's not certain. She turns to gaze out of the window again. She doesn't want to make things awkward between them.

But then she feels a weight settle gently on the bed, just behind where she's sitting. She turns, surprised. Maria is sat on the adjacent side of the bed. A warm cup is pressed into Bessie's hands. It's covered in foam on top, and has a sweet smell. Chocolate.

Maria smiles at her, gently. Bessie smiles back. Maria clinks their cups together, then looks away, a little embarrassed.

She doesn't know what to say. Neither does Maria, evidently. It doesn't matter. They sit there, together, in an odd but not uncomfortable silence. The golden light of the sunset casts a gentle warmth on them both, and they watch the end of their first day in the new world together.

And they wonder if the next day will bring them closer together.

- - -

Now that she's back, Joan feels somewhat adrift. Her whole life before had been dictated by strict rules and expectations. She had served her queen, she had been a wife, and then she had been a mother. She had never been subject to only her own desires.

It's both exciting and daunting at the same time. She is free—truly, at last. But she isn't sure what this freedom means, or what to do with it. And in a way, that makes it all the more exhilarating. It's the first time in her life things haven't been laid out for her.

She sits in the living room, on her own at first. The last dregs of yellow sunlight are streaming in through the blinds. It's beautiful; a good introduction to the new world, Joan thinks. It casts stark shadows from the high city buildings, much higher than Joan would have thought possible in her time.

She leans back. Lets out a quiet sigh of contentment.

And then a little laugh. At the sheer absurdity of her situation. She's not certain this isn't all just an odd dream. Perhaps she's come down with a fever. Or maybe consumption. She could wake up tomorrow back in her old body, and her old life.

She could. But she hopes that's not the case.

This new time is exactly what she needs. A new life; a new start. Beholden to no-one.

She'd loved Jane, deeply so. And her death had been painful. To watch the life fade so slowly from her. Clinging desperately to the possibility that she might recover, staying by her side to the bitter end with the vain hope she might get through this. Only to have all of those hopes be crushed. And little Edward left without a mother.

She's ready to be in charge of herself this time. Not to serve anyone.

She's torn on these new women, though. She's felt it before; the pang of losing a loved one. She isn't sure if she can do it again. Perhaps things would be easier if she had nobody to lose. Still, she misses the companionship.

And she can feel herself caving in already.

Earlier, when they'd first been getting their bearings in the flat, she'd walked in on Maggie in their room, softly singing some old tune to herself. She'd been startled by Joan's entrance, and ended up hitting the side of her head on a shelf, and plummeting directly onto the nightstand next to her bed.

What had followed was a flurry of curses and poorly-strung together apologies from both of them. Joan rushed over to take a look at the other girl's head, where a small bump was forming.

Maggie cradled the top of her head, with a slightly pathetic whimper. The two of them looked at each other then, their frantic energy levelling out a little.

And Joan couldn't help it. It bubbled up inside her, and she started laughing. And Maggie did, too. Until there were tears streaming down their faces and they could barely breathe.

Joan likes her already, in spite of herself. Her resolve to avoid repeating the pains of her past has faded already. She's going to make the same mistakes all over again. And she's not going to regret it—not even a single bit.

She'll endure it all again, if she has to. The fear, and the hope, and the crushing loss.

Because it's worth it; she knows.

- - -

Margaret—no, Maggie—has found herself at a bit of a loss. The world around her is so bizarre and new. It's hard to think about her past in the context of how things are now.

The modern monarchy is an entirely different beast to when she was alive. They're still influential, yes. But they're more public figures than absolute rulers. It's odd, looking at how these things are being talked about, on the 'news' programme that's currently playing. Some of it reminds her very much of her own time.

The way the actions of certain members of the royal family are constantly dissected, pulled a part and scrutinised. It makes her anxious, in a way. Hearing people debate endlessly about the dress the duchess wore, or how she opened a car door for herself, which apparently goes against royal protocol.

So the pomp and circumstance she remembers has stayed the same. And even though Maggie knows things are different now, that members of the royal family cannot simply be executed on trumped-up charges any more—she feels nervous for the woman.

It's silly, really. She knows that. But it brings back memories. Ones she'd rather leave behind. About awful, vitriolic words spread about her mistress. About rumours spreading like wildfire, and ending in such an early death. Such an awful death.

She tries to reassure herself. They don't do that any more. She's perfectly safe. But Maggie remembers how many times she had reassured Anne that things would be fine. And she'd been wrong.

Her chest feels tight, and she tries to bury the feelings again. But memories play before her eyes. She doesn't want to go back there, to witness that again. She holds back tears and tries to steady her breathing. She doesn't want to break down now. Joan is sat on the sofa next to her, only half paying attention to the television, and gently bouncing her leg.

She asks if Joan minds her changing the channel. Joan gives a shrug in response.

She takes the odd, black object in her hand, trying to decipher the meanings of all the little buttons. She moves close to the 'television', not sure of how the device works, and holds it close to the little blinking red light. She doesn't know what the buttons mean, so she pushes one of the numbers, and hopes she won't break anything.

The screen flickers as the scene playing out on the television changes. Maggie moves back to sit on the sofa. As she sits, Joan shuffles over to sit closer to her. She gives Maggie a small smile—one that inquires if she is alright. She takes a deep breath to steady herself, and smiles back, even if it doesn't quite reach her eyes yet.

She rests her weight against Joan's side, and the other girl leans into it, too. And they stay there for hours, watching television shows they don't really understand just yet. They share in their confusion, and giggle at the things that don't make sense to them, or that would have been outrageous in their day.

And Maggie feels a little bit lighter, like some weight has been taken from her shoulders. Things might be okay this time.

It's the middle of the night when Bessie and Maria finally emerge from their room. Evidently, they don't feel like sleeping, either. They join Maggie and Joan, sitting on the other small sofa in the room, even more confused by the strange device they're watching.

And that's how the four of them see in the next day, talking and laughing and trying to unravel the workings of this strange new world together.

Things have changed. They don't have to serve anyone this time. And maybe they can figure out what it all means, together.

#six the musical fanfic #six fanfiction #six the musical #maria on the drums #bessie on the bass #joan on the keys #maggie on guitar #cut maggie some slack please she's never used a remote before

14 notes · View notes

millie1536 · 5 years

Note

Blease give us some more LiW action you write them so well (Maybe Bessie and Maggie’s ADD acting up or something like that? 👀👀 if you want)

I’m not all that confident my characterisation of Bessie, Maria or Joan but her you go.

TW: Blood, Panic attacks, Self-harm (But it’s like stimming? so i’m not sure)

“Isn’t that what Kitty has?” Joan asked. She, Maria and Bessie where in the living having a family meeting of sorts.

“Kind of?” Bessie’s thought aloud, still try to understand the two conditions, “Maggie’s a lot quieter than Kathrine.”

“So what you’re saying is that it’ll be impossible to know when she’s struggling.” Maria raised an eyebrow. They had all leaned how to spot when Kathrine was struggling, whether it be ADHD related or not, and they knew that she tended to become very quiet when she was overwhelmed.

“We’ll work it out.” Bessie tried to assure them, but it’s hard to convince someone when you yourself don’t quite believe it.

As it turned out it wasn’t all that difficult to pick up on Maggie’s distress. Bessie wondered if this was due to how long the group had been living together. They already had an idea of what Maggie’s ‘warning signs’ were, after all just because you haven’t been diagnosed doesn’t mean the condition isn’t there. Bessie always seemed to be the first to notice. She didn’t know if this was due to having raised so many children in her past life or if she was just more observant than Maria and Joan.

After the diagnoses Bessie found herself watching Maggie far more closely, particularly during shows. She hadn’t noticed the way Maggie spent the entire show moving her shoulder blades, as if trying to get her costume off of her skin.

“You alright?” Bessie asked once they made it back to their dressing room after the show.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Maggie nodded but didn’t look at Bessie when she spoke.

“Okay, as long as you’re sure.” Bessie decided not to push it. She figured that Maggie just needed time to process the diagnoses.

That night, before going to bed, Bessie checked up on each of her bandmates as she usually did. Maria and Joan were watching Netflix in Maria’s bed, but when Bessie knocked on Maggie’s door she got no response.

“Mags? You awake?” Bessie called through the door. When she still heard nothing she eased the door open, just to make sure Maggie was okay. Upon entering the room her first thought was that Maggie had started her period, though she quickly remembered that Maggie was not 12 and knew how to deal with periods. “Maggie, what happened?” Maggie just shrugged from where she sat on her bed, surrounded by bloodied tissues.

“I woke up and my mouth was full of blood, I think I might have bitten myself in my sleep.” Maggie lied; she been biting the inside of her mouth but she hadn’t been asleep. “The bleeding stopped now.” She added, another lie. Bessie watched her for a moment, trying to gauge the urgency of the situation.

“Alright, if it’s still sore in the morning let me know.” She finally said, leaving Maggie alone for the night.

Maggie was surprisingly bright the next morning, seeming to have forgotten about last night’s incident. Bessie thought it best to keep an eye on her for today. Maggie seemed more relaxed than she had since the diagnoses and Bessie really hoped that was a good sign.

Whilst getting ready for that evening’s show Bessie couldn’t help but notice Maggie tense each time her eyes fell on her costume.

“I’ll be right back.” Maggie announced before Bessie had a chance to say anything. Bessie watched as the guitarist left the dressing room.

“Deep breaths.” Maggie said aloud. She had retreated to an empty bathroom and was currently standing in the corner, leaning against the cold, tiled wall. “Deep breaths.” She repeated. After the diagnoses Maggie had spoken to Anne and Kitty about how to manage sensory overloads, but this wasn’t an overload. It couldn’t be, she hadn’t even put her costume on yet. “Fuck.” Maggie muttered, closing her eyes in an attempt to work out what was happening. Not really thinking about it she began to chew on the inside of her cheek again. It had felt nice the night before. The repetitive movement and the pain had helped her to feel relaxed. Today, in the bathroom with her heart racing, it wasn’t enough. She thought back to all the times she’d seen Kitty anxious. She tried scratching at her hands and arms but it wasn’t enough. She needed to chew on something. Without really thing about what it was she was doing Maggie began to chew on her thumb. Biting at the knuckle, slowly at first but quickly building in speed and force.

“Have you seen Maggie?” It had been almost half an hour since the guitarist had disappeared and Bessie was beginning to worry.

“No, sorry.” Parr shook her head, looking up from her book, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Bessie admitted before leaving the woman to her book.

After about 20 minutes it become clear that no one knew where Maggie had gone.

“Did you find her?” Anne asked when the bassist sat down beside her. Bessie shook her head.

“I was hoping you had some ideas about where she might be.” Bessie sighed, “I know it’s not the same but, where would Kathrine go?” Anne thought for a moment.

“Usually she comes to me or Anna, sometimes Parr or Jane, but if she want’s to be alone she’ll go somewhere quiet and warm.” The two sat in silence, both trying to think about where the girl might be hiding. “Maggie likes the cold.” Anne suddenly said, “She’s always preferred the cold.”

“So we’re looking for somewhere quiet and cold?” Anne nodded.

“She’ll have gone somewhere she feels comfortable.”

“Front of house is pretty quiet at this time.” Bessie suggested.

She was right. Despite the noise and the chaos backstage front of house was deserted.

“Somewhere cold.” Bessie repeated to herself as she checked the cloakroom. Eventually she wandered into the bathroom. She doubted she’d find Maggie in there but it was worth a look. At first glance the room appeared to be empty, however the blood that covered the sink seemed to say otherwise. “Maggie?” Bessie kept her voice calm and quiet, “Are you in here, Mags?” there was silence. Then she heard shuffling. Bessie turned towards the sound to see Maggie peeking out from one of the far stalls.

“I’m sorry.” Maggie’s voice was timid, childlike almost, “I didn’t mean to.”

“What happened? What didn’t you mean?” Bessie held an arm out to the girl. Maggie seemed to think about it for a minute before rushing forward and burrowing into the older woman.

“I’m sorry.” Maggie whimpered again.

“Shh, it’s alright. Whatever happened, it’s alright.” Bessie smoothed out Maggie’s hair with one hand, the other holding the shaking girl close. She didn’t remember ever feeling particularly maternal. Sure, she’d had her fair share of kids in her past life but she’d never really wanted to be a mother. Yet, standing here with Maggie she found herself feeling as though Maggie was own. She had died giving birth to a daughter all those years ago, Margret. She knew Maggie wasn’t her Margret but something about the girl made Bessie want to protect her. Maggie was young, only just 19, she needed a mother. She needed someone to look after her, to keep her safe. Someone who would love her in the way only a mother can, and Bessie found that she was more than happy to be that for her.

“Bessie?” Maggie’s voice pulled Bessie back to the situation at hand.

“what is it Mags?” She felt Maggie pull away from her.

“It hurts.” Maggie removed her hands from her pockets for the first time since Bessie had found her.

“Oh, Maggie.” Bessie pulled to girl back into her arms. She hated to admit but she didn’t know what to do. Maggie’s hands were covered in blood, most of in seemed to be coming from her knuckles, and Bessie had no idea how to help.

But maybe she knew someone who did.

“Why don’t we go find Anne? I’m sure she can help clean you up.” Bessie tried to keep her voice light. Maggie nodded into Bessie’s shoulder.

Anne stood up when she heard the door to the dressing room open. It was the tenth time since Bessie had gone to find Maggie that Anne had jumped out of her seat. But this time it was Bessie.

“Hey, could you…” Bessie trailed off. She didn’t know what to say. There was so much she didn’t know, so much she didn’t understand. She had never felt this overwhelmed with her own kids. Anne’s eyes fell to Maggie’s bleeding hands

“Of course.”

Anne eventually got Maggie to sit, despite her arguing that she was fine, and pulled the first aid kit out of her bag.

“Kitty… She uh-“ Bessie cut Anne off with a nod, letting her know that she didn’t have to explain, “Could you clean off the blood? I need to get a few more things.” Anne handed the first aid kit to Bessie and hurried from the room. In actual fact she had everything she needed in her dressing room but she could tell that Bessie wanted to help and so she left them for a few minutes, grabbing some bandages from Jane’s bag so that it wasn’t obvious that she didn’t actually need anything.

“Is this alright?” Bessie asked, wiping the blood off of Maggie’s hands. Maggie nodded, not meeting Bessie’s eye. “You’re not in trouble, you know that don’t you?” Again Maggie nodded. “Last night wasn’t an accident, was it?”

“No.” Maggie’s voice was so quiet that Bessie almost missed it. Bessie thought for a moment the said.

“That’s okay, but next time you feel like that can you come to me? You don’t have to talk about it I just want to know you’re safe.”

“I’ll try.” Maggie looked up, still not making eye contact, “But it’s hard sometimes. It’s like I can’t always tell that somethings wrong until it’s too late and then I get scared that you’ll be mad and so I just hide.” Maggie sighed, “But I promise I’ll try.”

“That’s all I want, for you to try and if it’s too hard then that’s alright. We’ll work it out. Together.”

When Anne returned to the dressing room Bessie had finished wrapping Maggie’s hand and was now sitting in the old armchair in the corner of the room with Maggie curled up in her lap. Anne smiled at the sight. A part of her wished that she could swap places with Bessie but she knew that Maggie needed Bessie more than she needed Anne at this moment. Maggie needed a mother, not sister, right now.

6 notes · View notes

wisdom-toof · 7 years

Text

Imagine Pavel Chekov Telling You He Loves You

Requested by @a-girl-on-uss-enterprise

Word Count: 1336

Summary: Pavel confesses his love. Spirk Mention. Pavel is a Lieutenant. Reader is a Lieutenant in the Science department.

Follow-up to these two posts

http://raging-trashfire.tumblr.com/post/164139907844/being-roommates-with-chekov-at-starfleet-academy

http://raging-trashfire.tumblr.com/post/164152373679/being-roommates-with-pavel-chekov-part-2

“Pavel!!!” you yell. “Pav, your socks are on my PADD…AGAIN!!!”

You sigh as you pluck them off and toss them onto his bed. You hear the shower turn off and he scampers out of the bathroom in his boxers, toweling his hair off.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry! I got off my shift late last night and I just tossed zem into ze dark!”

He rubs the back of his hair and rolls on the balls of his feet.

“Pasha you are my best friend but sometimes I wonder why...”

“I sink it is because I’m a-dor-a-ble and also because I am ze only creature on zis ship zat can keep up wis your hurricane of ideas!”

He beams and you felt that familiar bubble in your chest.

“No. Nope. Stop. Never going to happen. He’s your best friend! You can’t ruin this.” The little voice in your head whispered.

You gave your head a little shake, snapping back to reality. Pavel was tugging his gold uniform shirt over those incredible fluffy curls. His head popped out and you saw that he was still grinning, green eyes crinkling up at the corners.

Your heart stuttered again. Even though he was an entire head taller than you, you felt a fierce desire to protect this boy from everything. He just seemed so innocent and pure. Not to mention he was the most beautiful creature you had ever seen. You shook your head and realized he was looking at you expectantly.

“Y/N? Are you ready to go?” he asked, offering you his arm. “I’ll drop you off at ze science labs on ze way to ze bridge!” he was still smiling softly, but you saw something else in his eyes. Sadness? No… It couldn’t be…

You twined your arm with his. As you were walking down the hallway, he glanced down at your linked arms.

“Blue and gold. Zhey look good togezher. Just like us.”

You looked up at him in shock. He was watching you out of the corner of his eye, a tiny smile pulling at his lips. You smiled up at him, hugging his arm closer to your side.

“Yeah… Just like us!”

The two of you parted ways at the science department and you watched him walk away. You turned around and almost ran into Spock.

“C-Commander! So sorry! Didn’t see you there.” You said, still startled.

Spock raised one slanted eyebrow.

“Why do you and Mr. Chekov continue to dance around each other like this? It is highly illogical.”

“Commander! I…He…We… He doesn’t like me like that! We’re best friends! Nothing more. How do you even know that I have feelings for him!?!?

“Lieutenant Y/L/N, as a Vulcan, I am incredibly observant, and I have observed that you and Mr. Chekov are displaying the exact behaviors that Jim and I displayed before we “got together” as you humans would say.”

“I… I’m not so sure Mr. Spock… We’ve shared a room since we went to the Academy and nothing has happened yet…” you slumped, suddenly feeling miserable. Just how obvious was your crush on Pavel?

Suddenly there is a hand on your shoulder, a gentle squeeze, so quick you thought for a second you had imagined it. You looked up to see a nanosecond flash of concern in Spock’s eyes. He gave you an almost imperceptible smile and said,

“I thought a relationship with Jim was impossible. I thought he felt nothing for me. It took much courage to confess my feelings to him. Strangely enough, he tried to confess HIS feelings for ME at the exact same time! I would call it serendipitous if Vulcans believed in such an illogical concept.”

You stared at Spock for a minute, lost in thought.

“Thank you Mr. Spock. I’ll definitely take your advice into account!”

Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement before striding out of the science lab.

The day seemed to drag by. You kept playing scenarios of how you would tell him your feelings over and over again. Nothing seemed to come out right. Everything sounded stupid. You were frustrated. Suddenly, your PADD beeped at you from across the table. Opening it you saw a little message notification from none other than Pavel Chekov. You accessed the message. Your heart dropped all the way down to your toes when you read it.

“I’m outside your science lab whenever you’re done. Hurry please. I want to talk to you. Is very important.” Of course you read the message in his voice. Replacing the “v” sounds with “w”.

You closed down the PADD and tucked it under your arm. Stepping outside of the lab doors, you saw him sitting against the wall, long legs splayed out in front of him.

“Pasha, hey, I’m here.”

He scrambled up and your heart flipped again. He was all long limbs and skinny muscles, honey-coloured ringlets and doe eyes. So beautiful you could’ve cried. He didn’t look at you and instead started walking off towards your shared room. You trotted along behind him.

You reached the doors of you quarters and both of you walked through.

He pulled up his desk chair and placed it across from the couch.

“Y/N, please sit down. We hawe to talk. Zhis has gone on long enough.”

He sounded tired. Your stomach dropped again as you sat on the couch.

“I had a wery, wery long talk with Hikaru today and it is high time we get somesing straight. I cannot go on liwing wis you as my friend.”

You had seen this coming, but it hurt you nonetheless. You felt the tears start to overflow your eyes. You kept your head down and nodded, hoping your hair would hide your face.

“Wait. Wait! Are you crying!?!?”

You couldn’t help the sob that escaped your mouth. You heard shifting and all of a sudden Pavel was kneeling on the floor in front of you, tilting your head up and pushing your hair out of your face.

“No, no, no, it’s not like zhat Lapochka! I can’t liwe wis you as a friend because I am so, so insanely in lowe with you!”

You looked up at him in shock. The minute your face tilted up you felt the softest brush of lips just under your eye. He was kissing every inch of your face he could, murmuring his love for you between kisses. Once he had deemed that you were done crying he leaned back a little bit and bumped his forehead against yours.

“Please tell me I was right. Please tell me you are in lowe wis me too! Y/N, tell me I did not read the signs wrong!”

He sounded desperate. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Pasha! Pasha! Of course I love you! Of-course-of-course-of-course!”

He pulled back and you followed him down to the floor, where you fell into each other and for a minute, and didn’t move or speak. He pulled back and looked you straight in the eyes.

“I lowe you wis all my heart. I lowe it when you call me Pasha. I lowe you for dealing with the mess I make of our room. I lowe your mind, your soul, your heart. Ewerysing! I want to be wis you always.”

He was beaming again. Your entire soul did a flip. You reached out and smoothed a hand through his curls.

“Me too Pasha.”

You could feel yourself smiling like an idiot but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

The next thing you know you were being scooped up and carried over to his bed. He flopped both of you down and you immediately snuggled yourself into him, his arms wrapping around you tightly

“I hawe got you. Always, always, always. I lowe you, Y/N”

You buried your face in the curve of his neck and shoulder, every part of your being screaming “YES!YES!YES!YES! THIS IS SO RIGHT!”

“I love you too Pasha, even if you leave your clothes all over our room…”

#pavel chekov x reader #pavel chekov headcannons #pavel chekov #pavel chekov imagine #pavel chekov fan fiction #star trek aos reader insert #star trek #star trek aos #spirk #star trek reader insert #aos chekov

220 notes · View notes

literaryinspiredwebserieslove · 7 years

Text

All the Reasons to Watch Middlemarch: The Series

This series is one of the best LIWs I’ve ever seen. It has everything we all love about literary-inspired webseries, and then some. It also doesn’t have nearly enough subscribers yet, so I’m going to list some of these things in the hope that more people will go and watch this wonderful series.

1) High production values (for a webseries). Funding from Yale makes that sort of thing possible, and this show is very pleasing to look at.

2) Everyone has problems. All the characters are struggling with things, none of them are willing to admit their issues, and their struggles are all realistic and relatable. These are normal people with normal problems, and yet it somehow all feels so important.

3) A baking video gone wrong. Need I say more?

4) An angsty m/m ship whose obstacles to getting together have nothing whatsoever to do with either of them being closeted (huzzah!)

5) An adorable couple in which one person is female and the other is nonbinary. Did I mention they’re adorable?

6) Internship drama.

7) Conversations about art and the meaning of life and whether we should bother finding the meaning of life.

8) The most beautiful f/f ship I have ever laid my eyes on. Seriously, this ship is beautiful in every sense of the word.

9) They have actual merch for their fictional college and pizza place. How cool is that?

10) Interesting format (everything is being uploaded several months after it was filmed, with commentary from the characters looking back on things).

11) The catchphrase “Ladies, gentlemen, and otherwise,” which I freely admit to having stolen as the opening to my valedictorian address. Thanks for that :)

12) There’s just a lot of gay going on, and everyone is out, which is a nice change, though I still do think it’s important to show fictional characters coming out when that’s part of the story – it just doesn’t need to be part of every queer character’s arc.

13) Reuben Hudson’s singing in that one episode.

14) All the other music, which I will not list because I will forget people, but it’s all really good and really well-chosen. Sadly none of the characters sing, but the soundtrack makes up for it.

15) A relatable and highly flawed protagonist who we still root for even though she does all the wrong things. That is not easy to find.

There are more, but the bottom line is that MMTS is very well written, very well made, very well acted, and very, very gay. Go watch it if you enjoy any of these things (and I know all of you do).

#mmts #middlemarch #liw #liw recommendation #lgbtq+ webseries

112 notes · View notes

literaryinspiredwebserieslove · 7 years

Text

LIW Review: The New Adventures of Peter and Wendy

This series is a little different from others that I’ve reviewed because it has three seasons, and I’m reviewing them all together because the whole story is short enough for that to be possible.

The New Adventures of Peter and Wendy is loosely based on Peter Pan, but the characters are now adults living in Neverland, Ohio. Tinkerbell is still an actual fairy, but Peter is now a comic book author and the Darlings own the local newspaper, the Kensington Chronicle. Tiger Lily is now Lily Bhaga, a businesswoman with more money than you can shake a stick at. Hook becomes the owner of a media company (JH Media), and Smee becomes his multitalented assistant.

Format:

This series is very mixed-format. In Season One, everything is either a “Dear Darling” video filmed by Wendy or shot from the point of view of Tinkerbell, which allows the camera to move and allows her to exist as a fairy without having to show her. In Seasons Two and Three, a lot of episodes are shot by the cameras that Jas Hook has installed in all of his offices. The characters were all active on Twitter, and the Kensington Chronicle (later the K-Chron) existed as a real newsletter.

Realism:

Well, there’s an actual fairy involved, so obviously we’re stretching belief a little bit from the start. The real issue with realism is the filming. All the footage exists in-universe, as I said, but there’s no justification for how it’s being edited or for any of its existence on the internet. Since there’s no in-universe YouTube channel, it works, but creating the justification for filming and then not creating a fictional framework for what happens with the footage is a strange combination that doesn’t entirely work for me.

Representation/diversity:

Season One starts out with only five characters. Four of them are white. Lily is Indian and very, very rich. She and Wendy also have a very negative relationship, and Lily is generally not portrayed in a very positive way. I’m not convinced that Season One passes the Bechdel Test, though I would have to rewatch to be sure. If it does, it does not do so with flying colors.

Season Two is different, and just generally better. We get Billie, a female pirate (fine, JH Media employee) who has an actual friendship with Wendy. Ethnic diversity goes up in Season Two. The characters get more complex (Peter does bad things, Hook does good things), and there’s non-stigmatized LGBTQ+ representation (well, okay, just G, but for such a big-budget webseries that’s huge).

Season Three is the wrap-up season, and it pays equal attention to the gay relationship as to the two straight ones (technically it’s the second most important/spotlit relationship of the three). There’s good parental advice, which is always nice to see. There are discussions of money, which is something the was sorely lacking in the first two seasons (these people are hopelessly upper class, especially for LIW characters).

I should also mention that John Darling has OCD, and it is discussed frequently, usually in a very healthy way. Other characters (notably Peter) probably have various mental health issues, but these are never discussed or named.

My three favorite things about The New Adventures of Peter and Wendy:

1) Episodes 12 and 13 of Season Three. I can’t say why without serious spoilers, but those two episodes made me feel many things.

2) John Darling. I don’t identify with him, but at the same time I do, very strongly. I sympathize with and understand him more than anything else, and I love him.

3) The aesthetic. The production values are super high, the sets and costumes are a pleasure to look at – visually, everything is wonderful.

Difficult things about New Peter + Wendy:

Well, the money and realism points I mentioned earlier are definite issues, but I think this series suffered from two other big problems. First, an aversion to really digging deep. There were moments of raw emotion and honesty, but not as many as there could have been. The script often just didn’t quite go where it maybe should have gone. The second issue is how dependent they were on funding. Season Two somehow got massive amounts of money, so they cast recognized actors, filmed more episodes, and frequently used multiple camera angles. Then, for Season Three, they had considerably less funding, and so there were fewer episodes and simpler filming setups. While I understand that funding is important, especially if you have to pay your actors, it seems silly to see a series with many thousands of viewers asking for many more thousands of dollars when series with similar formats make just as high-quality content with no money whatsoever or with very little (Nothing Much To Do and Lovely Little Losers spring to mind, though there are obviously others as well).

The Verdict:

I enjoyed this series immensely, and of course the production itself was nearly flawless, but the lack of depth, the small number of episodes, and the disconnect with the rest of the LIW community cause problems for me that no other series has. It’s in a weird place between television and a regular LIW, and it maybe could have taken some queues from other LIWs in how it operated. That being said, when you need a cute little diversion with high production values, fairly strong representation, a fairy-cam, and actors who people have actually heard of, you really can’t go wrong here. 4/5 stars overall.

Cast:

Wendy Darling – Paula Rhodes

Peter Pan – Kyle Walters (who also played Ed Denham in Welcome to Sanditon)

Michael Darling – Brennan Murray

John Darling – Graham Kurtz

Lily Bhaga – Lovlee Carroll

Jas Hook – Percy Daggs III (you may remember him from Veronica Mars)

John Smee – Satya Bhabha (Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, among other things)

George Darling – Jim Beaver (yes, that Jim Beaver)

Billie Jukes – Meghan Camerena

Created by Kyle Walters and Shawn DeLoache/EpicRobotTV @newpeterwendy

Three seasons, seventy-six episodes.

Watch the entire adventure here:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLkF--ahv3nwpPqCfzKh1OyfR9NwVRAXwD

#new peter and wendy #liw #LIW Review #literary inspired webseries review #neverland ohio

7 notes · View notes