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arabellaflynn · 2 years

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About a week ago, I went to an open class/open call where they were offering the dancers a free health screening. Sure, why not. The PTs there were super nice and actually knew their stuff -- that group also works with the local circus performers, so they're pretty used to people doing weird shit with their bodies. They had me do a cardio test, a bunch of range of motion stuff, some muscle strength, etc. It told me nothing I didn't already know. I'm extensively hypermobile, mechanically wonky because of it, intolerant of heat and sudden exertion, and all the systems that are supposed to be regulating my heart rate and blood pressure are asleep on the job.

Believe it or not, nobody has ever bothered to run most of those tests on me. By the time I figured out my panoply of issues had a single cause, I was an adult, living in Massachusetts, and my medical care all went through MassHealth. State health care doesn't run expensive tests for funsies, and I got a solid clinical diagnosis of Ehlers-Danlos just from walking in with a folder full of family history and research papers and bending my fingers backwards for some curious doctors, so it wasn't necessary. There's no real utility to putting numbers on just how fucked I am, either. EDS is a genetic disorder. There isn't any way to fix the fundamental cause of all the cascading problems, so standard of care is basically playing whack-a-mole with the symptoms. You're not treating the patient back to an objective standard, you're trying a bunch of things until you either run out of things to try, or the patient says, "Eh, good enough." The symptoms I self-report are not unreasonable for my diagnosis, and I'm not unreasonable about what counts as fixing it, so there's no point in trapping someone in an office with me for twenty very boring minutes while I run on a treadmill.

I left feeling very, very angry.

Not at the PTs; as mentioned, they were great. And I'm not pissed at my body for glitching out either. I've been like this for forty-one consecutive years at this point, and it is what it is. I'd like to think I've gotten the hang of dealing with it by now.

I left angry because I remember being a child, and telling people about all of the things that were wrong with me, and not one single adult in my life bothered to take me seriously. The nice ones gave me a lot of pep talks about having confidence and venturing outside my comfort zone. The shitty ones told me to stop whining and do as they said. None of them went, 'hey, so, this kid keeps complaining about this one thing, it seems kind of weird and worrying, maybe go to the doctor and have it checked out?'

My mother does not like doctors. She doesn't like authority figures generally, but doctors for some reason strike her as especially useless. I don't remember very many medical appointments as a kid. Most of the ones I recall were for ear infections, and I strongly suspect we would not have gone in for those if she'd been able to figure out how to get her hands on amoxicillin on her own. My mother has a half-finished nursing degree (that she didn't want and quit right smack in the middle of) and thinks she knows better. We did go to the ER when I was five and very definitely broke my arm, and I'm told we went when I had salmonella as an infant, but aside from stonkingly obvious emergencies like those, doctor visits just didn't happen.

[Except one. The only doctor visit I didn't have to fight tooth and nail to get was when I was fourteen and mentioned I disliked my acne. Within two weeks, I had seen a PCP, gotten a referral, and was sitting the lobby of a local dermatologist who decorated his waiting room with Looney Tunes animation cels. I liked him; he addressed his questions directly to me, and at one point very politely threw my mother out of the room so I could answer them. That actually turned into a bit of an ordeal -- he tried oral antibiotics first, but it turns out that things that end in -cycline make me barf, so there was a bunch of back and forth before we settled on topical tretinoin, which was itself a PITA to get at the time. Not word one out of my mother about any of it.

Call from college begging for a therapist? Suck it up! Face unattractively bumpy? Clearly important.]

I don't remember if there was an inciting incident, or just an accumulation of smaller insults, but somewhere around the age of ten, I came to the conclusion that help did not exist. Or if it did, no one was going to give any to me. So I just stopped bothering to tell people when things went wrong. If I got sick and had to throw up while my parents were busy or asleep, I just staggered to the bathroom and did it, went back to bed, and informed the adults the next time they cruised by. I had constant nosebleeds as a kid (common symptom of EDS, plus we lived in the desert) and I stuck a wad of Kleenex up my nose and went on with my day.

Since "have my needs respected" apparently wasn't an option, I only had two ways to deal with stuff that did damage: Suck it up and ignore it, or sit the fuck down and refuse to move. I picked the latter more often than you'd think.

It worked best when the person demanding I do something stupid was an authority figure other than a parent -- e.g., a teacher or camp counselor -- because then I could sic my mother on them. My mother loves feeling like she's Sticking It To The Man™. (Note that my mother is a suburban housewife with a backyard pool, hybrid SUV, and a husband who works in aerospace and has to tear apart the house looking for his Selective Service card every few years to re-up his DoD clearance. My mother is The Man. Congruence is not her strong suit.) To her credit, she did always tell me that if the cops ever brought me home in the middle of the night, she would know whatever I did was 100% my idea -- I was an extremely stubborn kid and petrified of getting into any kind of trouble, so if I was openly disobeying a teacher, there was probably a good reason for it.

The supervising adult would threaten, "I'll call your parents," and I would just be like, "Okay, go for it," and then they would magically come up with some other way to resolve the problem, because they had all tangled with my mother at some point, and none of them were eager to do it again. It's possible that they called my father at work once or twice, but he would have just redirected them to my mother, and I'm convinced that the school office drew straws whenever her name came up on the caller ID to see who had to talk to her this time.

On the other hand, anything that so much as mildly inconvenienced my mother was cause for rage. The worst one I can recall was when I was in high school. at a dental appointment. I don't like dentists, partly for the normal reasons and partly because as above-mentioned my mother resents the existence of medical professionals and was incapable of not taking her mood out on her surroundings. For some reason, she though she could just not deal with that part by not telling me about the appointment until we joined it in media res. I don't remember what happened at school that day -- undoubtedly some random teenage bullshit, but when you're a teenager, that bullshit is very important -- but between that, and getting paged out of class unexpectedly as if there were some sort of emergency, and just general DENTIST, I had an absolute meltdown as soon as my butt hit the exam chair.

In retrospect, this was clearly some combination of panic attack and dysautonomia. I was sobbing hysterically and hyperventilating so badly I couldn't have given an answer to the people asking me what was wrong even if had one. I was physically unable to calm down. The dentist was beside herself. She tried everything she could think of, but in the end, I couldn't stop crying long enough to let the poor woman clean my teeth, so they just told us to re-book and come back later.

My mother was a ball of seething, silent, white-hot fury the entire drive home. The dentist and hygienist had sat with me for about a million years, asking me what happened and how they could help. My mother did neither, but did let me know that I had disrupted her entire day, and she was very unhappy that she had to drag me back and do this all over again.

Many years later, I learned that dentists were well aware that they made people anxious, and as long as you had someone handy to drive you home, a lot of them would happily give you some Valium to make the experience less dreadful. There's an excellent chance they asked my mother if they could give her minor daughter some sedatives, and she said no.

I can't decide whether she was better or worse about physical problems. She was objectively very bad. My mother's tolerance for pain and discomfort is unreal. My sister and I have agreed on exactly one thing, ever, in our entire lives, and that thing is: 'If Mom claims something doesn't hurt, do not believe her.' She never bothered to tell dentists when the numbing wore off while they were still drilling. She thought childbirth was easy. She broke hands and feet multiple times as a child, and by her own account she just wrapped a bandage around the offending extremity and ignored it. She did finally admit, in her 50s, that almost a year of chronic kidney stones, complete with stents and multiple lithotripsies, kind of sucked. (She did it to herself. Rather than hit up a doctor when the symptoms of menopause annoyed her, she decided to treat it with a preposterous excess of green veggies and soy products. Which are full of stone-forming oxalates. Oops.) It's not anything like CIPA -- we actually have the infamous redhead gene that eats Novocaine for breakfast and makes sore throat sprays worthless.

I am unsure if her childhood included frank physical abuse. I am inclined to think not, because her social calibration is way the fuck off, and if it had she inevitably would have told us some sort of anecdote about it, thinking it was funny. But it is abundantly clear that her parents were not equipped with an excess of empathy, and that it was drilled into her at a very young age that her pain did not matter. My mother is more 'self-centered teenager' than 'literal sociopath', but that still means she assumes her experience is universal despite all evidence to the contrary -- so if her pain doesn't matter, yours doesn't matter either. To this day, I'm not sure whether she disbelieved me when I told her something hurt, or just didn't think it was all that important.

How much influence other adults would have had on my overall medical care, I don't know; my mother did have my insurance card hostage, after all. But I am still very, very angry at all the people who told me that my pain and discomfort weren't real, and I was just making them up to be difficult. I have permanent ligament damage in both arches because of a PE teacher who insisted that I run (well, "run") a mile even as I was gasping for breath and literally dragging my toes with every step, unable to lift my feet properly. Another PE teacher rolled her eyes and called me lazy when I spent most of seventh grade on crutches after re-injuring what the first one did. (To clarify, we did not go to a doctor to get the crutches -- my mother cadged them from a friend who had broken a foot sometime earlier, and forged my PE excuse note. Also to clarify, we had excellent health insurance that would absolutely have covered 'kid can't walk right, get foot x-rays at urgent care and issue mobility aids'.)

I avoided anything even remotely resembling exercise for decades, because I knew it would go just like my academics did. Agreeing to anything would start an endless round of the adults badgering me to do more and try harder. No achievement would ever be enough. As soon as they got one 'yes' I wouldn't be allowed to say 'no' anymore, and the only way to make it stop would be to go completely on strike, let them be mad, and wait until they got distracted and went to go yell at someone else.

Unbelievably enough, I do feel a bit sorry for my mother. In hindsight, she has pretty much the same core set of symptoms as me, as do her sisters, and as did her mother. I have limited knowledge of the rest of the family, but every blood relative on that side has shown at least some signs that I know of. A lot of the dysfunction around medical stuff stems from her just never having experienced anything different, and not knowing that none of this is normal. The unforgivable part is her reaction when I came to her with the problem. Instead of helping me find ways to cope, or even just sympathizing with me and agreeing that it sucked, she screamed at me to shut up. She genuinely thinks that everyone in the world is walking around in this amount of distress, all the time, and that trying to not be in this amount of distress is childish and entitled, like demanding that the world bring you a constant stream of food so that you never have to feel the slightest bit hungry.

I'm sorry that she's that miserable, and feels compelled to suffer alone. But she could have chosen to behave better, and did not. Her isolation, at least as an adult, is her own damn fault.

Why the other grown-ups thought I was malingering, I have no idea. I seemed too young to have the problems I claimed? They were used to me being compliant and had no plan for my insubordination? General assumption that children are lazy and manipulative liars? Not a clue. But they all dismissed me without running any of the tests that would have proven I was telling the truth. I sincerely want to take the packet the PT gave me at the screening, roll it tightly into a cylinder, go back in time, and smack each and every one of them with it, repeatedly, until they understand what they did wrong.

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madelineariah · 1 year

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2023/April 6th - Common Questions

Before I really get into some of what I want to talk about, I think it would be best to help you all get to know me a little better. I want to use this post to answer some of the most common questions I get asked whenever I meet new people. If there are other questions you want to ask me, feel free to leave a reply and I promise I will answer as honestly as I can. So, without further ado, let’s begin.

Q: What is it like being transgender? How did you know, and when did you transition?

A: I first realized I was transgender around the time I was 12 years old. It came about because of an old superstition that if you could lick your elbow, your gender would change. I became fixated on wanting to experience it, and then I stopped and asked myself, “Why do I want to be a girl so much?” The rest is history.

I began living female full-time when I turned 18. I started on estrogen around my 24th birthday, and I got my name legally changed just before my 26th birthday. (Note: Madeline is my real first name; Ariah is not my real last name. Good luck googling me.)

I would say most of the time, I fly under the radar. I pass as a woman nowadays, and people who feel otherwise thankfully tend to leave me be. That said, I have faced a lot of discrimination in regards to employment, healthcare, and the occasional threats of violence. It ain’t easy, but it’s the life I live.

Q: What is with your avatar? Are you really that flexible?

A: When I was younger, I was insanely flexible. However, when I was 14, I had spinal surgery which cut my flexibility in half. I still stretched a lot even after the surgery and could put my ankles behind my head for years. Due to poor health, I am severely out of practice right now. That said, the picture is based on an older photograph of me – from around the time I was 25, if memory serves.

Q: Are you a gamer?

A: I own an Xbox One X (and an Xbox One S). My most played games include “No Man’s Sky,” “Rune Factory 4 Special,” “Cities: Skylines,” “The Crew,” the “Hitman: World of Assassination” trilogy, and most of the “Need for Speed” games (except “Unbound” because I refuse to buy a Series console just for one game). Racing and life simulation games are my infatuation – even when that life may be a bit unorthodox (such as traveling the universe as a space pirate in NMS).

Q: Are you… lewd?

A: No lie, I get asked this a lot due to my penchant for flexibility and skintight outfits. I will be completely honest here: sexuality was a major aspect of the choices I have made throughout my life. You will see that in some of the journal/diary posts that I make. However, the older I get, the more I find myself detaching from that life. There’s just too much pain in the memories of what was and what is now gone. I hope that makes sense.

Q: You mentioned research projects. What are they?

A: I am fascinated by science, technology, and the environment. One of my goals is to do research on new tools that are being created to address things like climate change and resource scarcity. I want to come up with proposals that implement those tools in ways that can help communities which are currently struggling. I will talk in more detail about those projects as time goes by.

Q: Why did you go to college three times?

A: I went to university in September 2011 – shortly after graduating high school. I did a year before my financial aid ran out and I had to return home. I then went to community college from 2013 on so I could get an Associate degree in Social Sciences. It was used to be hired for one job then quickly forgotten about.

Then, in 2021, I decided to go to a different community college to learn CAD/3D Design. Because of the pandemic, I had to do a year online, and then in spring of 2022, I was able to attend classes in person to finish the certificate program I was in. I wanted to design tinyhomes. I actually have a full design document for a hexagonal tinyhome layout, but I haven’t really been able to do anything with it yet. I am hoping in the future, that will change.

Q: What do you really want?

A: Honestly… I don’t know. I don’t care much for a fancy house or a fancy car. I don’t care much for traveling the world or attending big social gatherings. I question whether romance is the right thing for me. Things that most people spend their whole lives striving for, I am just… lukewarm to. So, maybe y’all can help me figure that out.

I suppose that’s it for now. Like I said, if you wanna ask me anything, my comments are open. Thank you. I appreciate you.

– Madeline Ariah

#journal #diary entry #transgirl #get to know me #personal

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allyouneedisbuck · 3 years

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Fine Line

Summary: There’s a fine line between love and hate and you’re not too sure which side you’re on with Harry anymore. Part Two to What Kind of Man

Words: 5.0k

Warnings: I said this in the first part & will repeat it. This is purely fictional. This in no way reflects how I feel Harry would handle this situation in reality. I’m really using Harry as a character. DO NOT READ THIS if you feel the situation of cheating and staying together will impact you strongly or offend you. That is not what I want when reading my story.

Notes: I urge those uncomfortable with cheating to avoid this. I also urge those who dislike this kind of writing to avoid. I came up with this story at a point in my life where my parents were divorcing, I was going through a break up and was lost. I’ve decided to finish this story because I put so much effort into it for it to end unfinished feels wrong. I can’t speak for anybody and how they would handle this situation.

Thank you for 1000 followers. That is crazy!

You’ve got my devotion.

But man, I can hate you sometimes.

...

You sunshine, you temptress.

My hands at risk I fold.

April.

The first two sessions had gone by in relative silence. You weren’t sure what to say to answer the therapists questions. You weren’t sure you even wanted to talk at all.

“Y/N.” You look up startled out of your thoughts. “Do you feel like talking today?” Her eyes are kind and understanding. Her degrees hang behind her head and you zone in on them. Dr. Walsh had been the only therapist who could take you on in April. Any others that you called had informed you their next opening for new patients wasn’t until the end of May.

You supposed it could have been worse. So far, Dr. Walsh had come across as kind and understanding of your hesitance. She had never forced you to talk and had only tried to get you involved on your own accord.

“What would we talk about?” You ask instead of ignoring in silence like you had the past two sessions. You can see Harry turn his head to look at you out of the corner of your eye, but you remained focused on the two degrees hanging behind Dr. Walsh’s head.

UCLA. “What year did you graduate?” You ask before she can answer your original question. “From UCLA.”

“We can talk about whatever you want. How you two met. Your kids.” You raise an eyebrow and she smiles. “1996.”

“I thought we were supposed to talk about our issues. Why would we talk about our kids or how we met?” You answer her question. You can tell Harry’s eyes are moving back and forth between the two of you, like he’s unsure if he should get involved in the conversation.

Dr. Walsh shakes her head. “Sometimes the best place to start is with what makes you two happy. You’re here to work on your relationship, right?”

The two of you nod. “Then I’m not worried about starting with the most painful part of your relationship. I want to learn about it. If I can learn about your relationship then I have more knowledge on how to help you repair it, if that’s what you want.”

“Okay.” You agree. You feel some of your tenseness fade away. You were here for a reason. “We went to UCLA too.”

She nods. “You did? Were you studying the same thing? Is that how you two met?”

You look down at your fidgeting hands and let out a laugh. “Not quite. I was a creative writing major and Harry was political science. We met in a World History course our sophomore. It was a general requirement class.”

“Yeah.” Harry nods as if the memory is coming back to him. “Professor Ward.”

“Mind if I sit here?” You look up and your breath hitches. He was handsome. That was your first thought. Bright eyes and a sweet smile that could take anyone’s breath away.

You nod hastily. “Yeah. It’s all yours.” You move your notebook over so he has a bit more room on his half of the table.

“Thanks.” He drops his books on the table and flops down into the chair. “Harry.” He reaches a hand towards you and you meet him halfway.

You offer your name up easily and his smile brightens. “What brings you into a World history course?” He asks quietly as the last bit of students rush into the few seats left up front.

You smile. “Creative writing majors have to take one broad history course before focusing on any history of writing courses. Ward’s class was the only one with openings that didn’t start at eight.”

“Creative writing. That’s cool.” Harry’s spinning the pen in between his fingers. “You want to be a writer?”

You smile nervously and nod. “That’s the goal. What brings you to Ward’s World History?”

Harry laughs softly. “I’m a political science major, this is just a required gen ed.”

“Political science. What’s your plan with that? Am I sitting next to a future senator?” You give him a teasing smile.

“Lawyer.”

You shrug, “Senators have to start somewhere.” The professor comes in and that halts the conversation from going anywhere else. As Professor Ward goes over the syllabus you see a piece of paper slide across the table towards you. You look over at Harry, but he’s looking ahead with a smirk on his face.

You unfold the paper and there is a number written in messy handwriting taking up the small page.

“Bold.” You whisper to him and he shrugs. “I can tell we’re gonna be good friends.” He whispers back.

“So you both liked each other right away?” You look up as you're dragged out of the memory of meeting Harry.

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “I think so.”

“Definitely.” Harry agrees. “I’m lucky I was running late that day. The seat next to her was the only good seat left. Plus, she helped edit all my essays. I was a shit writer before her.”

You smile softly at the memory. “Y/N?” You look up and Dr. Walsh is watching you closely.

“That class sucked.” You can’t help but let out a laugh. “We had so many essays. He’s right, he was a shit writer before me.”

You finally spare a look over at Harry and he’s watching you with soft eyes. “That was our first semester of sophomore year. We were attached at the hip after that.” You look back down at your hands.

“Did you guys start dating right away?” She asks.

“Pretty much. We started dating right before winter break.” Harry answers for the both of you.

She nods as she eyes the clock on the wall. “Does that memory still make you happy?”

You nod. Your memories hadn’t been ruined. But that didn’t really mean anything when you could barely be in the same room as Harry now. “Of course. But… Things are different. We’re not twenty-somethings with no responsibility. We’re parents. Partners. We’re supposed to have each other’s back. And now it feels like we don’t.”

Harry looks over at Dr. Walsh as she studies you. She was obviously taking in your words and processing a response to them. “I think the biggest question you need to find the answer to is, do you want to fix this marriage?” She finally says looking pointedly at the distance between you two.

You pause and mull over her question. “Can we fix it?” You ask quietly.

She shrugs. “I can’t answer that for you. It’s my job to help you find the answer, not give it to you. What I can tell you is; Sometimes people walk out of this with a new appreciation and love. Sometimes people realize it can’t be fixed. Nothing is wrong with either, it’s just up to you two to figure out which one it is.”

You look over at Harry and find him watching you with hopeful eyes. You knew he wanted to and felt like you both could fix this.

But you weren’t sure. “I don’t know.”

The drive home is silent for the most part. Music playing softly from the radio as you stare out the passenger side window.

“I don’t know what to say.” Harry says as he pulls the car into the driveway. He puts it into park but doesn’t turn it off so the music is still playing as he turns to look at you.

Gemma’s car was parked behind your own. You see the curtain move slightly which is a telltale sign that a child was peeking out the window. It quickly falls back into place when your eye catches Serena’s.

You shake your head and look back down at your lap. “What is there to say?”

Harry shuts his eyes and you see his grip on the steering wheel tighten. “I want to fix this. I’m trying. Do you want to fix this?”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Don’t try and guilt me, Harry. I didn’t cheat, you did. This… This mess isn’t my fault and it shouldn’t be my job to fix it.”

“I’m not trying to guilt-“ He cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. “That was a shitty thing to say. I know. I just want to know if we’re gonna make it through this. If you think we have a chance.”

You look over at him with watery eyes. “I don’t know. All I can think about is you fucking another woman while I was home with our kids. Telling them that you were just busy. That we would have dinner tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.”

Harry flinches like you’ve hit him. You turn away but don’t stop talking. “I know a month may not seem like a long time in the grand scheme of things. We’ve been together for seventeen years, so what’s a month?” You laugh humorlessly. “But how long have we been distant? How long have you been staying late and missing dinners?”

“I don’t know.” Harry whispers and you see him clench his eyes in an attempt to stop tears from falling.

“It’s been months, Harry.” You look around the yard. Your and Persephone’s plants needed maintenance. “We had Jack and then everything changed. We stopped date nights. Family game nights faded from existence. We stopped having sex. I… I don’t know what happened.”

Harry doesn’t say anything so you sigh. “I’m trying, Harry. It may not seem like it to you, but I’m trying.” You unbuckle yourself and move to get out of the car.

Harry reaches out and wraps his hand gently around your wrist. “I know.” He stresses the word. “I know you are.”

You nod and the two of you just watch each other for a moment. You break away from him first. “I’m sure the kids are peeking out the window. We’ve been out here long enough.”

The both of you climb out of the car silently. The door flies open by the time you reach the second step of your front porch.

“Mama!” Oliver comes flying out towards you. “Mama. Never leave us again. Baby Jack is crazy.” He grips you tight and you laugh, the tension immediately leaving your body as you hug him back.

Gemma comes to stand in the entrance with Jack on her hip. She gives you a weak smile and you smile back. “Come on, I’m sure Aunt Gem is dying to go home after watching you crazy lot for two hours.”

Gemma leaves quickly handing Jack off to Harry and giving you and Harry both kisses on the cheek. “Let me know about spring break, Y/N!” She calls as she rushes out your front door.

“Spring break?” Harry asks as he bounces Jack in his arms.

“We’ll talk about it later.” You say sparing a glance down to Oliver, who’s still attached to your leg. Harry nods before moving towards the living room. Oliver follows behind him and you’re left in the front hall alone.

You take a deep breath before following them.

Harry sleeps in the guest room. You can’t bring yourself to allow him back into the room you two shared.

His clothes remain in his half of the closet though and his toiletries had remained in place on the bathroom counter, so you saw him every night before going to sleep.

Dr. Walsh had suggested the two of you used this time to try and reconnect. “You don’t have to sleep in the same bed yet. It’s completely normal for you to need time apart, Y/N. But I do want you two to talk before bed every night, I know you have four kids and it may be your only true alone time to reconnect emotionally before you ever do anything physically, even just sleep.” She had offered at the end of your session after you had admitted you weren’t sure how you felt about Harry and your relationship now. “This is a good way to figure out if you can still see yourself together.”

You loved him. You didn’t need her to help you answer that question. He was the father of your children. You had over a decade of amazing times together. But you couldn’t look at him without your chest aching.

“What was Gemma talking about spring break?” Harry sits on the lounge chair you two had placed in the corner of your room. Jack’s bassinet used to be next to it, but he had recently moved into his own room.

You sit on the end of your bed with your arms crossed over your chest. “Olly has been asking if we could go to Disney World. I was talking to her about maybe surprising him and Serena for their birthday since it falls during the kids break this year.”

“That sounds really nice.” Harry smiles and you nod. “I’m sure the four of them would love it. I can put in for the week tomorrow. I have a bunch of paid time off I need to use up.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “You want to go? We haven’t been on vacation since the beach trip before Jack was born.”

Harry’s face turns stoic. “Of course I want to go. I told you I was going to spend more time with guys.” He walks towards the dresser you have pushed against the wall. “Here, pull your laptop out, let's book this now so we can get a good room.”

You gape at him. It had only been an idea you were considering for the twins birthday. Although, it was coming up and you were running out of time to make a decision.

“Are you sure you can get the time off?” You ask instead of listening to his direction.

Harry nods resolutely. “Can I?” He points next to you and you nod. You lean over to your nightstand, where you had left the computer the night before while writing.

You push it open. “I’m gonna go get Persephone.” You stand up and hand the laptop to Harry. “She can help plan some stuff with us, so we know what these young kids want.” You give Harry a weak smile and he nods.

You shake your hands out as you make your way down the hall towards your eldest daughter’s room. You knock softly on the door, “Seph?”

“Come in.” She calls and you push the door open. She’s got her show paused and is curled into her comforter. “What’s up, mom?”

“Can you help your dad and I with something?” You ask hesitantly. “I know it’s late, it’ll be quick.”

Persephone gives you the same dimpled smile Harry has, “Of course. I was gonna be up binge watching this show anyways.” She unwraps herself from the blanket and grabs her phone before following you back to your bedroom.

“Hey, lovebug.” Harry gives her your favorite smile. One he’s somehow reserved solely for you children. Soft and bright while his eyes shine proudly.

“Hi, daddy.” She plops herself down next to him and rests her head on his shoulder. He presses a kiss to her forehead and the smile that spreads across Persephone’s face is contagious.

You take a seat next to her, so she is squished in between the two of you. “You know how Olly has been asking about Disney?” You ask quietly. You and Harry had put the twins down an hour ago, but Oliver was known to sneak away from his room for a cuddle with you.

She nods instead of verbally answering and Harry pulls up the booking website. “Your mom had the great idea to surprise the twins for their birthday.”

“Really?” Seph asks excitedly. Your family trips usually consisted of beaches or visiting grandparents. The last time you had been to Disney was when it was just the three of you. You weren’t sure she could even remember most of the trip.

You bump her shoulder softly with an excited grin. “Really. Jack is old enough that he can get probably through a day there without screaming his head off. Aunt Gem said that she could come to help watch him so you three can have fun.”

“That sounds awesome!” She lifts her head from Harry’s shoulder and looks at you happily. “What did you need my help with?”

“Picking out where to stay. You guys are the focus of the trip so we want you to stay where you want to, not us.” You gently take the laptop from Harry and place it in her hands. “So tell us your top three and then dad and I will pick from there so you still get to enjoy some of the surprise aspect.”

She scrolls through the website for a few minutes while the three of you sit there quietly. You glance over at Harry hesitantly. He’s looking down at your daughter with bright eyes.

You quickly look away when his eyes move up to meet yours. “Okay. I added the three I liked the most to your favorites! Did you guys need anything else?”

You both shake your head. “Just keep this a secret. It’s going to be a surprise.” You smile excitedly at your eldest. She had grown so much, but seeing the childlike shine of excitement in her eyes brought you a bounty of joy. She was still your baby.

Persephone nods before handing the laptop back over to Harry. She presses a kiss to both your and his cheeks before hopping up and making her way towards your door.

You give her a confused smile when she pauses and turns back around to face you again. She takes in a nervous breath before speaking.

“It’s really good to be all together again.” The words are quiet and fearful. “Um. I love you guys. Goodnight.” She turns on her heel and bolts out the room and back down the hall.

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek and look down at your lap. “I’m sorry.” Harry whispers. His tone is similar to her’s. Quiet and full of fear. “I love you all. I know I hurt you, but you are all my world. Those kids are what I’m most proudest of.”

“I know.” You look over at his lap. His hands curled tightly around the laptop still open in his lap. “I never doubted how much they meant to you Harry. I know how much you love those kids.”

You want to reach out and pull his hand into yours. Something you usually did when Harry was scared or nervous. But you kept your hand firmly planted in your lap, unable to give him that forgiveness.

“I was never afraid of you not loving them. I was-“ You stop unsure of what to say. What were you afraid of? “I was afraid that I had given so much and you still wouldn’t have chosen me.”

Harry looks over at you with sad eyes and you let out a humorless laugh. “Harry, I’ve never regretted having Persephone so young. I’ve never regretted being home. But, I just want you to show that… that you appreciate me.”

“I do appreciate you.” Harry says quietly. “I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel like I don’t.” He places the laptop in the empty space in between you. You watch as he works through what to say, his tension clear in his eyes.

“But…” He trails off like he’s still unsure of what to say. “I’m here. I want to be here. I want to show you that I appreciate you.” Harry takes a deep breath and places a hesitant hand on your back. “As long as you’ll have me.”

You take a deep breath. “Let’s focus on this... I want the twins to have a great birthday and for Seph to have a great spring break. Things have been tough for them too. We can figure the other stuff out later.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, just nods and pulls the laptop back towards him. You can tell he wants to though. That he wants to talk this out and get in deep.

You just can’t bring yourself to do it.

“A family vacation can be very cathartic for couples struggling.” Dr. Walsh gives the two of you a kind smile after you reveal what you had planned for your kids. “But, it can also bring about stress at being in such a small space for such a long time. Especially when you’re still struggling to communicate.”

“I’m really trying.” You say quietly, on edge at the idea of you and Harry bringing about any stress on a trip meant to be for your kids. “We both are. I think.”

“I know.” She gives you an understanding look. “You guys do your homework. You said it yourself, your nightly conversations aren’t painful anymore. But talking about small things is only the beginning of strengthening your communication.”

“So you want us to talk about the affair?” You ask. “The big thing.”

She shakes her head. “Eventually. Sweeping it under the rug or ignoring it can only cause more tension. But there are other things I’m sure you want to talk about as well.”

“Like what?” Harry asks. He glances over at you before looking back at Dr. Walsh.

“Anything either of you felt was an issue.” She explains. “Big or small. Anything you think contributed to your distance. Try to remember, you’re not placing blame.”

“Not even for the affair?” Harry sighs and you shut your eyes. “How can I not place blame? That’s not my fault.”

“No.” She agrees. “I’ve never agreed with placing blame for something like that on the victim. Do you want to start with talking about it?”

“No.” You shake your head. “I just wanted to make sure we’re not finding all these so-called small issues so we can then excuse the cheating. I won’t do that.” You say disdainfully.

“We don’t expect you to.” She glances over at Harry. He looks pained but he nods in agreement. “Of course not.” He says quietly.

You take a deep breath in before nodding. “Okay, then where do we start?”

“A lot of times, affairs feel like they come out of nowhere. They do.” She gives you an assuaging look. “But it’s also important to remember that there were issues before it and they’re still there to be worked through. We want to work through the big problem, but oftentimes couples work through that but not other things and end up separating.”

You nod and take a deep breath trying to think through issues. Things had felt perfect during your pregnancy with Jack.

You were excited, a fourth child and it was a boy, you and Harry had been hoping for another boy. Harry had even planned the small family vacation to the beach so you could enjoy time together as a family of five before it became six.

“We argued.” You say quietly. The family vacation slips from your mind as your exhausted tears come to your memory. “Um. I had Jack and I was exhausted and we argued. It was barely even an argument.”

“He still won’t eat?” Harry asks, coming into the bedroom. He was still in his suit from court and you feel angry heat flush through you at how put together he looked. How well rested and up he looked.

You shake your head silently. Harry seems to not notice your tense jaw as he pushes his way into the closet to find clothes for the night. You turn to look down at Jack laying restlessly in your arms. Tears rush to your eyes as you stand and place Jack in his bassinet and finally get a look at yourself in the mirror hanging next to the closet door.

You hadn’t showered since Persephone had left earlier the previous day and after running around to get the twins settled with Gemma and taking care of the baby all day you felt tense and gross.

Harry comes out and smiles kindly as he watches you step towards the ensuite. “Can you watch him for a moment? I need a shower. I feel gross and it’ll help me relax. My nurse said getting tense makes it harder to breastfeed.”

Harry looks down at his watch. “Something more important?” You ask before he can get a word out. “No. Just- I was supposed to hop on a conference call with Jeff, I’ll reschedule.” Harry tries to change the tone of the conversation, but you’ve already seen red. “Y/N, go shower.”

“I’m sorry.” You say instead of moving. “I didn’t mean to inconvenience you with your child for half an hour.” You know you don’t mean the harsh words and that you’ll probably regret them all after you’ve taken a break but- “I’m home all day with him, but fuck if I ask you to watch him so I can shower.”

Harry’s eyes widen at the cold tone. He crosses his arms defensively across his chest as he takes a step back from you, even though he was already several feet away. “I never said I was inconvenienced. You asked a question and I answered honestly. I don’t have a problem spending time with my own child, Y/N.”

Your turn on your heel and stock into the ensuite and slam the door shut behind you. You hear Jack begin to fuss more and Harry’s whispers as he presumably picks the baby up. There wasn’t a time in the fifteen years you’ve had children that you’ve ever thought Harry didn’t want to spend time with his kids. You still didn’t. But the exhaustion and stress that you felt with Jack was unlike anything you’d felt before and Harry hadn’t seemed to notice.

“It felt like you weren’t paying attention.” You say quietly. “It felt like you had no idea what was going on.” Dr. Walsh trains her eyes on you as Harry’s eyes flick around trying to figure out what argument you were talking about.

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly. Jack is curled in your arms as he eats and a weight has been lifted off your shoulder. You feel shameful at the words that had slipped out in an attempt to make Harry notice how upset you were. “I know you’re not inconvenienced by our kids.”

Harry turns his head to look at you. He had been silently typing out emails as you fed Jack, upset but refusing to leave your side. “What’s wrong?” He asks as he slams the laptop shut.

You want to tell him. How stressed and anxious you felt. How much tougher being with Jack was than any of your other children. How insecure it made you feel. You should tell him.

But.

“How could I tell you all that and not sound like I’m angry at our child? Not sound like an awful mother?” You choke on the words.

Harry stares at you with what looks like pity and you turn away. You didn’t want pity. You wanted help. You wanted him to understand. “You don’t sound like a horrible mother. You sound tired.”

“What stopped you from telling him this?” Dr. Walsh prompts gently as you and Harry fall into silence. Her eyes flicker to Harry as he watches you with the same sad eyes.

You shrug. “I just wanted him to notice. I wanted to feel like he still noticed me.” You let out a breath. “We love Jack, but Jack wasn’t exactly planned. We weren’t sure if we wanted a fourth and had only just begun talking about it. When I found out I was pregnant and figured out how excited I felt, I knew I wanted to keep him.” You explain to the therapist carefully. “We decided that we wanted him, but he would be our last one.”

You think of the doctors appointments and heavy warnings that a fourth pregnancy could wreck havoc on your body.

“But I’m not twenty-three anymore and the pregnancy was really tough on me. And Harry knew. So he took care of the kids when I couldn’t and he planned vacations for me before I gave birth and it-” You breath catches. “It felt like you didn’t care anymore once I had him because I wasn’t in danger anymore. But Jack is stubborn and I was struggling.”

Harry takes in a shaky breath and reaches out to steady your trembling hands.

It’s a start. You guess.

“I didn’t realize how tough Jack was on you.” Harry says quietly that night. You had been dreading sitting in the awkward silence.

You shrug. “Babies are tough. Persephone was tough because we were so young. Serena and Oliver were tough because they were twins.” Your baby monitor makes a sound and you glance over to see Jack stretching his arms.

You sigh and stand up. “Jack was… Jack was tough in a way I wasn’t expecting. Maybe it was because I had four kids all of the sudden or because you started working more. I was exhausted all the time.”

You leave before he can say anything in response, but you know he’ll follow you to Jack’s room. You push the door open quietly and hear Jack’s soft giggles.

“Hello, handsome.” You whisper as he looks up at you. “What’s got you awake?”

You pick him up gently and bring him over to the rocking chair placed in the corner of the room. Harry leans against the door jam.

You rock back and forth with Jack in your arms and Harry watched with gentle eyes. You look up as Harry begins to speak quietly. “I wish I could take everything back. Just… Redo this past year.”

You look down at Jack and run a gentle finger over his cheek. “You can’t. You don’t get redos in real life.”

The room is silent as you rock your baby back to sleep and Harry watches.

We’ll be a fine line.

Notes: Title song Fine Line. This is really a filler for the next piece, I needed April to get to May :/

A few things; I have them staying together written. While this has been my plan since I begun writing this part & the next, if it’s something people wanted, I could do two different endings.

Like I said, I wrote this at a low place for me and had always imagined it as some type of closure that I never got from my parents situation or from my ex. Cheaters suck. But, some people do work through it. Some people can’t. That’s the beauty of our autonomy, we decide. I got a lot (and I mean a lot) of messages urging me to be mindful of impressionable people who may read this piece & with that I want to say; Your situation is not this one. Some cheaters will always be cheaters. This is not in anyway trying to convince you that a toxic relationship is okay. Or that cheating is okay. Please remember this is fiction and not meant to do anything other than entertain you! This is a piece I wrote & a piece whose ending I choose. Thank you for reading. I love every single person who read What Kind of Man and thought, I want more of this person’s writing.

(please do not be mean to me, I write for fun & am very emotional thank u)

#harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles writing #my writing #tee answers

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adhd-disaster-willie · 3 years

Text

you’re the one that brings the sun; chapter 3/6

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Warnings: None

Notes: I was actually going to post this yesterday but apparently a post limit is a thing, oops. I think that constitutes as me winning the liveblogging. /j

Also, yes I changed Willie’s pronouns because I’ve developed an attachment to he/they Willie :)))

Anyway! Here’s chapter 3, I hope you like it :)))

---

Alex doesn’t quite know when it happened, but the coffee… not-dates, have become a thing. Willie seems to have a sort of sixth sense that just knows when Alex needs coffee and a breath of fresh air. It’s odd, the way they’ve sunk into a routine in just a month and a half. Alex has Willie’s schedule memorized, he knows that Willie likes skating to his classes and that he only has caffeine on Saturdays and that he has a favorite tree he likes to study under. He refuses to admit to himself that Willie seems to know him just as well, from buying him more bandaids when he knows the ones in his fannypack are running low, to calling him and making sure he doesn’t stay up too late studying that one night when Willie was at Caleb’s for the weekend.

Alex has a tendency to stay up late studying, because he has this ridiculous, innate desire to get everything perfect. He supposes it comes from the fact that at one point, he was sure he wouldn’t even be in college, so now that he is, he feels like he has to succeed or his entire everything will come crashing down. So despite the fact that he’s gone over his notes a million times and the only noise is the clock ticking past 2am, he remains glued to the couch, eyes straining to read the page in his history textbook.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve been staring at that page for 30 minutes.” Willie’s standing in the entrance to the living room, smiling, their hair pulled into a loose braid that makes them look soft around the edges. He’s holding a cup of tea in one hand and Alex’s favorite blanket in the other.

Alex looks up, rubbing his eyes blearily. “Hm? Thought you were asleep,” he says, stifling a yawn. He feels a pang of guilt at the thought that he woke Willie up. Willie has a hard enough time falling asleep as it is.

Willie shrugs and moves to sit beside him on the couch, offering him the steaming mug. “I woke up to go to the bathroom and saw the light was still on. Drink the tea, it’s peppermint.”

“Peppermint makes me tired.”

“That’s the whole point.”

Alex eyes the tea suspiciously, but he’s weak for peppermint tea, and Willie knows it. He gives in, sipping it and sighing contentedly. His eyes threaten to flutter shut, and the prospect seems so tempting. “You should go to sleep,” he murmurs.

Willie shakes their head. “Not until you do.” They reach over and shut Alex’s textbook, ignoring his protesting. “You have a 9am class, you need to sleep, hotdog.” Willie’s voice is gentle in the way that makes Alex’s stomach do flips. He tosses the blanket over Alex’s lap, making sure it covers his feet, which are always cold, because anxiety sucks like that.

“I will,” Alex replies indignantly. “I just- I just gotta finish this one thing-” He cuts himself off with a loud yawn and Willie shakes his head knowingly.

“It’s 2am dude, you’re incapable of getting anything done past 1 and we both know it.”

“Not true.”

Willie raises an eyebrow. “Really? C’mon man, all that studying is gonna go to waste if you’re too tired to even take the test. Sleep, now.”

Alex hums in response, too tired to get out another coherent sentence. He supposes it wouldn’t hurt to close his eyes for a few minutes. “Five minutes,” he mumbles. “Then you wake me up.”

“Of course, hotdog,” Willie whispers. His hand hovers just over Alex’s, hesitant. He pulls back before Alex can overthink it, but there’s something hanging heavy in the air.

Alex pulls the blanket up to his chin and half asleep, offers Willie one corner. Willie swallows thickly before carefully taking the blanket and wrapping it around himself, drawing them closer together. If he’d been fully awake, Alex never would’ve done what he did next, letting his head drop unceremoniously onto Willie’s shoulder before drifting off to sleep, lulled by the sound of Willie’s heartbeat. It’s reminiscent of his drums and the way they soothe his anxiety, a steady, warm beat that feels like home. He’s sure that he’s dreaming when he feels Willie’s hand card through his hair, but oh what a lovely dream it is.

Alex wakes up to muffled cursing and the sun shining in his eyes. He blinks the sleep away, noting that the light is coming from the wrong angle and his neck is incredibly sore. The events of the night before come flooding back and he considers holing up in his room and never looking Willie in the eyes again. And yet, despite the mortification of falling asleep on Willie’s shoulder and the cramp in his neck, he feels more rested than he has in weeks.

A sudden crash from the kitchen snaps Alex out of his daydreaming It takes him a good couple minutes to register that Willie is practically hopping around the kitchen, narrowly avoiding dropping more things on the floor, and he almost smiles at the sight before remembering that Willie has admitted to being a terrible cook and Alex should probably intervene before something gets set on fire.

Alex trudges up to the counter, eyes still heavy with sleep. “What’re you doing?”

Willie looks up and Alex breaks down, laughing so hard his stomach hurts. There’s flour smeared all across Willie’s cheeks and what looks to be milk dripping from their hair and their eyes are wild with panic and laughter. Willie reaches over and pokes Alex’s chest. “Stop it,” they whine, biting their lip to keep from laughing. “I’m trying to make waffles but…” he looks around at the mess in the kitchen and sighs in resignation. “This was a bad idea. The dining hall waffles taste like cardboard, and I would just make pancakes since those are easier, but I know you like waffles better since they have little compartments for the syrup. So I thought y’know, it can’t be that hard, I just need a recipe and a waffle maker. But did you know there are a lot of rules to cooking that are not stated like anywhere? And waffle makers? Not very easy to use. A pain to clean too.”

“Where did you even get a waffle maker?” Alex questions, glancing over at the contraption cautiously.

“That girl from my art history class owed me a favor.”

“The one you gave skateboarding lessons so she could impress her crush? She just has a waffle maker lying around?”

Willie nods. “Yup.”

“And you went all the way over to the girls dorms at-” Alex glances at the clock and subtracts an hour from the current time. “- 7am. So you could borrow her waffle maker?”

“Well when you put it like that…” Willie runs his hands over his face, laughing. “It’s stupid. But uh… I got you coffee?”

“It’s not stupid,” Alex says. “I uh, I think it’s sweet. Really. Just, please don’t try it again, I don’t want the dorm burnt down.” He chuckles lightly and begins toying with his hoodie strings, cheeks slightly pink. “Coffee?”

Willie reaches into the fridge and pulls out a coldbrew. “I didn’t want it to get warm and I didn’t know when you’d wake up, but uh, here.”

Alex takes the coffee and something in his heart bursts just a little bit. “You remembered my coffee order.”

“I mean yea it’s… it’s what you get every time.” Willie scratches the back of their neck, rocking back and forth on his heels anxiously.

“Your memory sucks, dude.” Alex continues to stare at the cup like it’s something from an alien planet. “I- thank you.”

“Yea, yea of course.” Willie smiles softly, sitting next to Alex and nudging his shoulder. “It’s what friends are for.”

“I’m not helping you clean the kitchen.”

“Rude, I hate you.”

---

Alex is fairly sure he didn’t fail his history test, and his professor for his last class of the day had to cancel, so he’s let off early. All in all, satisfactory for a Monday.

It’s a fairly warm day, but chilly enough for him to be wearing a denim jacket. LA doesn’t really see actual fall until well into November, but having lived there his whole life, Alex needs a jacket as soon as it hits 65 degrees. There’s a bounce in his step as he walks across campus, a grin tugging at the ends of his lips. He’d agreed to meet Willie at the skatepark, and it sounds stupid that he’s so excited to see them, considering they live together, but this feels different. It isn’t a date, he reminds himself that he couldn’t be that lucky, but it’s nice. It’s nice to be able to spend time together as friends instead of just roommates.

Alex swings his rollerblades over his shoulder, bringing his other hand up to his face in order to block the sun, hoping to make it easier to find Willie. It isn’t hard to spot him, Willie stands out, and Alex wonders if that’s because of Willie himself or… something else. They’re like a light, the center of Alex’s messy, muddled universe. Willie’s perched on the back of a wooden bench, feet planted on the actual seat and looking off at the sky, they drum theiir feet to the beat of whatever song is playing in their headphones and mouths the lyrics quietly. Alex has always has a habit of noticing things. It stems from his anxiety, but it isn’t so bad when the things he notices is the golden haze around Willie’s head from the way the sun is positioned, or the way the light breeze snakes through his hair. Willie is very pretty, it’s a simple fact, one that Alex had never failed to take notice of; but watching him so… at peace, lost in his thoughts, it hits Alex like a truck.

Alex sidles up to the bench, standing over Willie’s shoulder. “Whatchya listening to?”

Willie yelps and leaps slightly in the air, clutching at his chest. “Christ Alex, you’re like a ghost! How’re you so quiet?”

“Hmm, I think you’re just oblivious.”

“Am not.”

“Are too,” Alex hops over the back of the bench to sit beside Willie. “What’re you thinking about? You had your daydream face on.”

“I don’t have a daydream face.”

“You totally do!” Alex snickers. “It’s like…” He gives a poor rendition of Willie’s so called daydream face, sending the other boy into a fit of giggles.

“I sure hope that isn’t my face,” Willie breathes, clutching onto Alex’s shoulder for balance. Alex begs his heart to please beat a bit slower. When Willie finally calms down, his hand lingers on Alex for a few moments, like he doesn’t quite know how to move it. When they do, Alex’s shoulder feels cold, and he thinks that Willie holding onto him was helping to balance them both, in a way. He shakes that thought from his mind, forcing himself to focus on the present, not the possibilities. Willie is swinging their feet, occasionally brushing Alex’s knees or his calves. His hair is let down and slightly tangled from his helmet, which is resting on the bench beside his skateboard. Alex lets out a gentle breath. Focus on the present. God, he sounds like a therapist.

“Are we gonna skate?” Alex asks, gesturing at his rollerblades and Willie’s skateboard.

Willie seems to think about it for a moment before shaking their head. “Two more songs,” they decide. “I’ll feel incomplete if I don’t finish the playlist.”

Alex peeks over his shoulder at his phone, where Spotify is open. “What’re you listening to?”

Willie scoots closer and Alex is painfully aware of how close they are, their knees knocking together. He offers Alex his other earbud and his voice is soft when he asks if Alex wants to listen with him. It’s like he’s holding a piece of himself in his hands, Alex recalls a time where Luke said that showing someone your music is like showing them your soul. Alex thought he was being dramatic, but now he thinks that he wouldn’t mind having a part of Willie’s soul to keep. He takes the earbud, and they have to move their heads closer to avoid any accidents with the wire. Their foreheads are inches apart, Alex can see the reflection in Willies eyes, soft and earthy, like the bark on his favorite tree that he used to climb until he felt like he could fly.

“Hmm, Green Day’s good,” Alex says, softly lip-syncing the ending of American Idiot. Willie nods in agreement, the movement causing a few loose strands of hair to brush across Alex’s face. Alex has to close his eyes for a few seconds, breath catching in the back of his throat.

A beat of silence passes between songs; Alex can hear Willie’s even breathing and he’s sure Willie can hear his sporadic heartbeat. It’s like they’re trapped in their own little bubble, where the sun never sets and they’re always wrapped in gold. And then it’s over and another song begins.

“Avril Lavigne?” Alex means it to come out as teasing, but his voice is far more tender than he intended.

“Don’t make fun of me!” Willie giggles, bumping Alex’s shoulder. “Shhh, let me listen to the song.”

Alex is so focused on his proximity to Willie that he isn’t paying too much attention to the lyrics that everyone’s heard a million times. “I like ballet,” he mutters absentmindedly in response to the song, not really clocking the way Willie’s face flushes crimson. He quirks a curious eyebrow when Willie shoots up, shoving their phone and earbuds into their pocket. “We didn’t finish the-”

“Lets skate!” Willie cuts in, plastering on a false smile. “I just REALLY wanna skate, so lets do that! Yup! Okay!” They hop on their skateboard, bouncing in anticipation and Alex can’t even admire the way that their hair dances in the wind because he’s just so confused. He’s sure he didn’t do anything wrong. He just said that he likes ballet and-oh. Alex buries his face in his hands at the realization, internally cursing himself. Well that’s one way to accidentally admit to your blossoming crush. Lovely.

Alex opens his mouth to get out an apology, but it’s stuck in the back of his throat. He fumbles with his blades, straps too small and agile beneath his shaking hands. Whatever. It’s fine. If he doesn’t mention it, it didn’t happen right? Willie doesn’t seem to be making any moves to talk about it, so he doesn’t either. Willie still has one foot on his board, looking ready to flee any moment, his eyes glued to the pavement.

“So, you dance?” Willie asks casually, but Alex can hear the tension behind the question.

“Uh yea, since I was little. Another way I disappointed my parents, they always told me dancing was girly and it’d turn me gay.” He laughs ruefully. “We all know how that worked out.” Willie nods distantly. “I danced in high school, mostly jazz, I was never great at ballet.”

“Jazz?!” Alex gasps in mock offense.

“Stupid egotistical ballerina,” Willie teases. The tension seeps from Alex’s shoulders when Willie finally makes eye contact and there isn’t anything hidden behind his gaze. Alex lets a tentative smile creep onto his face, but there’s still something unspoken dangling precariously in the air above them.

---

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

Notes: ok so this chapter was originally like 1,000 words longer but I cut out the last scene FOR GOOD REASON I PROMISE!

I hope you liked it :)))

Taglist: @thatsanewflavor @spookiest-sapphic @dovesgrangers @julie-n-phantoms @frostknyte @thegaylink @nervousmiracletrash @crummycassidy @fairygclds @reallyintrospectivepeople @madsmax-37 @swamp-acad @kat-maybe-not @sunsetcurve123 @lookingthroughmirrors @queer-fandom-enby @over-under-through1 @willex-n-waffles @caliibee @herequeerandcantdrinkbeer @nickalicious @andwhenwepart @maizsnex @fanofthepod

#willex #jatp #willex fic #jatp fic #willie jatp #willie nolastname #alex mercer #alex jatp #willex fanfic #willex fanfiction #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfic #jatp fanfiction #wille x alex #alex x willie #ytotbts #willow writes

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swan-of-sunrise · 3 years

Text

The Winter Soldier (Chapter Three)

Summary: Steve drops by the VA and listens in on one of Sam’s meetings and later that evening, (Y/N) reflects on her unusual day with the super-soldier.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Brief discussion of PTSD

A/N: Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Three (Previous Chapter)

After placing sugar packets and stirring sticks next to the coffee maker, (Y/N) took a seat beside the refreshment table and watched as Sam took his place at the front of the crowded room and began the meeting. One by one, each person would share their struggles with PTSD and how it had affected their lives as civilians; with each person’s story, (Y/N)’s heart clenched in sympathy. These vets have put their lives on the line to protect us, they don’t deserve to suffer, she thought with an inward sigh. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d woken Sam up from a nightmare or had seen him suddenly grow silent and have to distract him from his memories of war. But it was wonderful that people like Sam, people who face the same exact struggles, run programs to help each other out.

Seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) turned to see Steve Rogers leaning against the doorframe of the room, his arms crossed over his chest as he listened to the meeting. Smiling and tugging her sweater tighter around her, (Y/N) turned her attention back to the woman speaking. “The thing is I think it’s getting worse. A cop pulled me over last week, he thought I was drunk. I swerved to miss a plastic bag. I thought it was an IED.”

Sam nodded. “Some stuff you leave there, other stuff you bring back. It’s our job to figure out how to carry it. Is it gonna be in a big suitcase or in a little man-purse? It’s up to you.” Everyone clapped and began standing, so (Y/N) jumped to her feet to man the table. She greeted each person with a smile as they grabbed cookies and filled their cups with coffee, delighted to see so many new faces among the usual crowd. After about twenty minutes of mingling and making small talk, the crowd started to leave so she decided to begin packing up the refreshments as Sam bid them goodbye out in the hallway.

“Don’t take those away those cookies just yet, darlin’, I wanna bring one home to my gran’daughter.”

(Y/N) looked up to see Gary, an older man with an incredibly bushy grey beard and a Vietnam War veteran’s baseball cap, and she smiled brightly before offering him the half-full container. “Take the whole thing if you’d like, Gary, and be sure to say hello to Katie for me!”

That made Gary grin toothily as he took the container. “You know, darlin’, you’re sweeter than this whole damn box of cookies. I’ll be seein’ you next week!” (Y/N) gave him a small wave and resumed cleaning as he limped away.

“You’re pretty popular around here.”

She turned away from the coffee pot and smiled when she saw Steve standing before her, his blue eyes glimmering and his hands shoved in his pockets. “If I am, it’s only ‘cause I give away free cookies; the vets that visit all have a massive sweet-tooth, you know.”

“Are you a vet, too?”

“Nah, I just work here.” She tossed several used paper coffee cups into the trash and chuckled. “A year ago, when I finally graduated with my master’s degree, I started writing my novel and since I was writing about soldiers and government agents I needed to interview some about their personal experiences. So, I decided to come down to the VA. I met with Sam, who had just started working here, and asked if I could interview some people for my writing. He agreed, and I spent the whole day just talking to the vets. All sorts of vets, too; men, women, old, young, you name it. And at the end of the day, after hearing about their struggles with PTSD and how hard their lives became once they returned to civilian life, I went back to Sam and asked if he needed any part-time employees. He said yes, and we’ve been best friends ever since.” Steve smiled, and the impressed look he was giving her caused her to blush so she hurriedly changed the subject. “So, did everything work out earlier? It’s just that it seemed a little serious, so I hope that everything’s okay.”

Steve’s smile fell a little but he nodded. “Yeah, everything’s fine…I was just visiting a friend who hasn’t been doing too well lately.”

(Y/N) impulsively placed a comforting hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, that sounds difficult. I hope they get better soon.” The ghost of a sympathetic smile pulled at the corner of her mouth and Steve’s eyes softened after a moment; realizing that her hand was still resting on his arm, she hastily withdrew it and began folding the tablecloth to keep her hands busy. “Um, Sam and I were planning on going out to dinner after we finish packing up, you’re welcome to join us if you want.”

She glanced up at him and saw a glint of something in his eyes, but it disappeared before she could get a closer look. “Thanks for the offer but I’ll have to pass; I’ve already got some plans later…”

“That’s okay, maybe next time!” (Y/N) smiled, but inside she couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.

Just then, Sam walked into the room with a stack of pamphlets in his hands. “Pretty good turnout today, huh? Five new faces and Captain America!”

Steve chuckled. “Well, I’m glad that I stopped by.” He glanced at the clock on the wall before continuing, “I should probably get going, but it was good to see you two again.”

(Y/N) shook his hand. “I’m not gonna lie, it was a little weird seeing you in your own exhibit earlier but it was great hanging out with you!”

“You too, and good luck with For Queen and Country, I’ll keep my eye out for it in the bookshops.” His bright smile caused her heartbeat to once-again quicken as their hands dropped.

“It was good seeing you too, Cap, you made me look really awesome in front of Maria, so thanks for that.” Sam grinned and shook his outstretched hand.

“Glad I could help, Sam; see you two around!” Steve gave them a small wave before turning and walking out of the room.

Tearing her eyes away from the doorway, (Y/N) resumed her cleaning and glanced at Sam. “What do you feel like tonight, Thai or burgers?”

Sam grinned and began unplugging the coffee maker. “Burgers. So, did you have a nice day chilling with your new boyfriend, Booksmart?”

“Sam…”

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

Later that evening, (Y/N) sat down at her desk and put her music on shuffle before flicking through her notebook to the pages of notes she’d taken that day at the Smithsonian. She bit back a smile when she recognized the difference between the carefully printed notes she’d taken by herself versus the illegible scribbles taken from the elderly security guard’s long-winded explanations. He was kind of a fast talker, wasn’t he, she thought to herself; as a way of honoring the enthusiastic old man, she ultimately decided to name one of her minor characters after him.

“Stan.” She sounded out the name and gave a satisfied nod. “Yeah, that’s got a nice ring to it…”

(Y/N), now finally having all the information she needed to best describe Soviet Cold War missiles, wrote for nearly three hours straight, only taking breaks to skip songs or to glance down at her notes. She would’ve probably continued writing well into the next morning except that her eyesight was beginning to blur around the edges, an unfortunate symptom of exhaustion.

Well, you have had a pretty busy day today, (Y/N) silently reasoned as she saved her evening’s progress and booted down her laptop. Since Sam was already fast asleep in the room across the hall, she went about her bedtime routine as quietly as she could, washing her face and brushing her teeth before tiptoeing back into her room. She slipped on her mismatched pajama set and was about to crawl into bed when the record player on her bedside table caught her eye. Making her way over to what Sam affectionately called ‘The DJ Bookcase,’ she scanned the shelf devoted solely to her record collection until the right one stood out to her, and then she carefully placed the record on the turntable and lowered the needle. After a moment, the soft tones of Glenn Miller’s ‘Stardust’ filled her room and with a smile, she finally got into bed and turned to watch the record spinning on the turntable.

Thoughts of the super-soldier who’d inspired her choice in bedtime music began to fill her mind, making her smile softly to herself. (Y/N) had enjoyed seeing Steve again, even if it had been in a highly unconventional place like the Smithsonian, and she quietly marveled at how effortless it had been to talk to the larger-than-life man. He really was different from how the history books portrayed him: not only was he kind and polite, but he was also intelligent, sarcastic and extremely understanding. Also a little lost, I expect, (Y/N) thought, remembering his guarded expressions and withdrawn replies whenever she’d ask him a personal question; it couldn’t be easy adjusting to a brand-new reality, especially without a fixed support system to rely on.

“Hopefully he ends up getting the help he needs.” (Y/N) murmured to herself, her sleepy eyes continuing to watch the rotating record as more thoughts of Steve Rogers filled her mind.

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

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all liked my little Stan Lee cameo in this chapter and the last :) I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BenknAqQQnOWY8NmSa23V

Tagging: @mrs-obrien @lahoete @awkward117 @cminr @momc95 @awkwardnesshabitat @marinettepotterandplagg @khuang3 @supersouthy @benakenalove @brooke0297 @hufflepeople @becausewelie @outoftheregular @supreme-tantrum

Chapter Four

“The Winter Soldier” Masterlist

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers #sam wilson #captain america fic #captain america the winter soldier

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sindrafalcone · 3 years

Text

Adventures in Babysitting pt. 4

Fandom: BIGBANG/ Choi Seung Hyun x reader

Synopsis: A babysitting job turns into something unexpected…

Warnings: Still fluff, with a bit of steam at the end.

Author’s Note: Surprise! I wrote this part right after finishing the last one. I was on a roll. lol But, fair warning, part 5 will probably take me a little while. Still I hope you all enjoy this one. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This story contains fictional representations of real people. None of the events are true. This is from an American standpoint, so some of the situations may not happen the same way they might in Korea. I make no money from the writing of this fictional work.

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

“There is no way I'm prepared to have this conversation without alcohol.” Seunghyun said as the two of you hung up your coats and slid out of your shoes.

You simply murmured your agreement as he headed off to the kitchen, presumably for more wine.

The taxi ride back to the hotel had been awkward, to say the least. You'd kind of run out of things to talk about & neither of you wanted to discuss the proverbial 'elephant in the room' until you got back to the hotel. So most of the ride was spent in awkward silence in between bits of random small talk.

In just a few moments you were both seated on the sofa facing each other, just as you had earlier that same evening, glasses of liquid courage in hand.

“I guess the best way is to just tell you...” he said, taking a deep gulp of his wine.

You nodded in encouragement. “Like a band-aid, all at once.”

“I'm a rapper.” Seunghyun blurted. The look of disbelief on your face only made him talk even faster.

“Well, I'm a rapper, an actor and a sometimes model. I'm part of an incredibly popular group, Bigbang. They call us the “Kings” of Kpop. So, that's why Mrs. Tran recognized me.”

“And that explains why you wanted to eat in the private room.” you smiled at him. “I thought maybe you had a phobia of crowds.”

He laughed a little at that. “Well, I don't really like crowds. But only because if I get recognized, it can cause a mob scene.” “You're really that popular?”

“It's worse in Asia.” he admitted. “But it can happen anywhere. We have to be really careful.”

You took a sip of your own wine, gears turning in your head; and it was then that sudden comprehension dawned on you. It took all that you had to not spit it out in surprise & Seunghyun watched in concern as you choked a little.

“Wait a minute...” you managed to gasp. “Is your name Choi Seunghyun?” you tried to keep your voice level.

He nodded sheepishly.

“I'm such an idiot...” you lightly smacked your hand up against your forehead before taking another drink. “I've been spending the entire evening with THE Choi Seunghyun and I didn't even realize it.”

“So, you've heard of the group then?” Seunghuyn asked, his voice a little bitter, thinking that perhaps you'd been leading him on all night.

You shook your head. “No, that's not it... Um, maybe it will help if I spill my secret now. Do you happen to still have that pamphlet from the museum?”

“Yeah. It's in my coat pocket.”

“Would you mind going to get it, please? It'll make this a lot easier.” you murmured.

Seunghyun gave you a curious glance before setting his glass down on the table. Unfolding himself from the couch, he strode over to the entryway of the room & dug around in the inside pockets of his coat for a bit before he found the piece of folded paper. He handed it to you before sitting back down & to your surprise, he plunked the fortune cookies from the restaurant on the table as well. You felt yourself swallow thickly as you set your own glass down.

“Okay, so the Surrealist exhibit... you liked it, right?” you asked, bending the paper and folding it so that the back was prominently displayed.

He bobbed his head eagerly. “I loved it. It was both innovative and immersive. Not to mention that it featured work by some of my favorite artists.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.” you told him, feeling the heat rise to your face at his genuine words.

Seunghyun looked confused, so you handed him the pamphlet, shyly pointing at the bottom of the paper.

His eyes scanned over a list of names that he didn't know; donors, directors, and managers of the museum... until he came to a line that stopped him cold. Surrealist Exhibit Curator: __________ ______________.

He pointed where your finger had just left. “That's.... that's your name. You're the curator of the exhibit I've been dying to see for months?”

You tried your best not to be offended by the disbelief you thought you heard in his voice. “Yeah, that's me. Surprise... I guess? Small world.”

Seunghyun sat there in stunned silence for a moment as he thought things out, giving you the perfect opportunity to finish off the wine in your glass. He drank the rest of his as well, then poured fresh for you both.

“I thought...” he began, his voice soft. “I thought you worked there as a tour guide.” “Technically, I do.” you sighed. “I have a masters degree in art history, as well as a minor in public relations. It helps with the marketing and fundraising aspects.” you explained before sighing heavily. “But the job market to be a curator is stupidly competitive, not to mention, heavily dominated by men. So... I took what I could.” you had another sip of wine, slower this time because you could feel it starting to go to your head. “I figured I could start at the bottom and work my way up.”

“And you finally convinced them to let you curate an exhibit.” he said, taking his own drink. “How?”

You shrugged. “The Museum chief envisioned Surrealism and no one else wanted to do it. So, I more-or-less pulled double time for a few months while I put it together.”

“Did they pay you more?” Seunghyun asked, anger evident in his voice.

You just shook your head. “Not in the budget.”

He snorted. “Bullshit. I'll bet the chief gave himself a nice, fat bonus with the money that should have gone to you for all that extra work. And all you got was your name on the back of the tour pamphlet... in tiny print... at the very bottom.” Seunghyun grimaced and took a drink.

“No need to rub it in.” you grumbled, looking down at your feet, face flaming in embarrassment.

“No! That's not what I meant...Ugh, I'm making a mess of this.” he gently took the wine glass from your hand & set both his and yours down, then he turned back to you. Seunghyun slowly reached out his hand and settled the tips of his long fingers under your chin, gently moving your head up until you were looking into his eyes. “I'm not trying to make fun of you. If anything, I am enraged on your behalf. What they did to you was wrong and you shouldn't have to tolerate it.”

“I can't afford to quit.”you sniffed. “Besides, I get to lead people through the exhibit every day and see their reactions to it... good or bad. Most don't really appreciate it, at least... not the way you did. But it gets people thinking.”

“Wait...” Seunghyun said, reaching out and taking your hands in his. “Just a minute ago, you were shocked that you had spent the evening with “THE” Choi Seunghyun & hadn't realized it. What did you mean by that? If you don't know me by my music or acting, then...” he let the sentence hang there, unsaid.

You took a deep breath and blew it out awkwardly. “Mark has been trying to get me to agree to meet with you for months. I've kept putting him off, mostly because I can't afford to fly out there right now. But... I've heard your name come up in the art circles occasionally & I'll admit, I felt intimidated....”

“Mark?” he interrupted. “Mark Grotjhan?”

“The one and only.” you laughed. “We met a while back when our museum was doing a showcase of his work. And he helped me get in touch with some artists and donors when I was curating for the Surrealist exhibit.”

“Wow...” Seunghyun breathed. “It really is a small world.”

“I know, right? What are the odds that I ended up being your babysitter for tonight? I mean, you got to see the exhibit, which otherwise would have been closed. And I got to meet you... even if I didn't realize it was you at the time.”

“Why did he want you to meet with me?”

“Connections, I think. You know how the art world works as much as I do. It's all about who you know and what influence you have.”

Seunghyun nodded. “That makes sense.” Then he surprised you by pulling out his phone and patting his thigh.

You just shot him a questioning look. “What?”

“We may as well let him know we found each other.” he laughed. “Come here, _________.”

The way that smile lit up his face, especially his eyes, had you crawling across the couch and into his lap before he could change his mind. The two of you put your heads close to each other and smiled for one picture. Then Seunghyun made a funny face, so you did too & he snapped another. He took a few more with various poses before he seemed satisfied.

You sat there while he typed out a quick message and sent it, not knowing what else to do. But you did notice that he still had the smile plastered on his handsome face. Once he was finished he looked over to you, seeming to realize for the first time that you were still in his lap.

It could have been your imagination or the wine, but it seemed like his expression completely changed. One second, he had a boyish grin and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. The next, it had shifted to a look of pure hunger, with maybe just a touch of lust.

You cleared your throat. “Um... we, uh... still haven't eaten our fortune cookies.” you tried lamely, pointing to where he had left them on the table.

“Is that so?” his voice practically purred.

You felt one of his arms snake its way around your waist as he leaned forward to grab one off the table. Seunghyun settled back into the sofa, arms still around you as he unwrapped the cookie and broke it. He offered up half to you, which you took, surprising him by just grabbing it from his fingers with your mouth. He popped the other half into his before unfolding and reading the piece of paper it had contained:

You are very talented in many ways.

As you read the fortune, you started laughing. It began as a small chuckle and just progressed further and further, until it was an outright, full on belly laugh. You could feel the tears just beginning to prick the sides of your eyes when he finally spoke.

“I don't see what's so funny.” Seunghyun deadpanned around a mouthful of cookie. “I am very talented in many ways.”

His statement only made you laugh harder. It took you a few minutes, but when you realized that he wasn't laughing, you began to recover enough so that you could finally explain. “Don't tell me you don't know how to play the game!” you finally managed to wheeze.

“Game?” he asked, genuinely intrigued. “What game?”

“The fortune cookie game!” you sat up straighter. “One of my friends in college taught it to me because we would get Chinese takeout at least once a week.”

“So what exactly is this game and why is it so funny to you?”

You suddenly felt a little embarrassed. “Well you, um... you take your fortune and add 'in bed' to the end of it.” you felt your voice trail off at the end.

“You are very talented in many ways...” he paused. “... in bed?”

You nodded and giggled again slightly. “Sometimes it works out and it's really funny like that one. Other times it doesn't really make sense, but it's still fun to try.”

“I don't see how this one is funny...” his voice rumbled darkly.

You were about to get up, afraid that you had possibly offended him, when Seunghyun took gentle hold of your shoulders firmly keeping you in place. And that's when you felt it.... his lips pressing softly onto the side of your neck.

“I am very talented in many ways...” he asserted again, his breath ghosting across your heated skin.

#Choi Seunghyun #T.O.P #kpop fanfic #choi seunghyun fanfic #T.O.P fanfic #t.o.p bigbang #BIGBANG TOP #bigbang fanfic

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outerbankspreferences · 3 years

Text

Mistakes - Topper Thornton

Word Count: 2599

Warnings: death, swearing.

A/N: So I had to look up Topper’s mother’s name, and found out that apparently he is a professional surfer??? Did I miss this the countless times I’ve watched the show???

It was three day’s before Topper was getting married. It was going to be the biggest wedding on the island. Finally, the Thornton and Cameron family coming together. This wasn’t for business, or blending families, this was simply the will of love between two people. Topper and Sarah had been together, broke up and then got back together when they came home from college. Topper went to university out west, studying pre-law while Sarah stayed home and got her nursing degree. It was about five years they weren’t together. Topper moved back home to finish his degree and started to work for law firm on the island. To say that Cynthia and Ward were ecstatic was an understatement, they had already started making business plans around their kids’ marriage. Cynthia invested in Rose’s real-estate, and Rose helped her find a new office for her clinics. Cynthia also helped Sarah get a job at the hospital.

Nothing was being left behind. When Topper and Sarah announced their engagement to everyone the planning went crazy. The engagement party was held at the country club and no expense was spared. It was obvious Rafe wasn’t getting married any time soon, and Wheezie was still too young. Sarah loved planning all the events and getting the photo’s done. She was happy to being doing all of this with Topper by her side. At one point in time, Topper was over baring for Sarah, almost too invested in pleasing her. When they were in high school the relationship didn’t work because they were on two different pages, they had two different needs. When Sarah left for college, she had a couple boyfriends but nothing really lasting, when she moved back to island, she ran into Topper at the Heyward’s grocery store and he asked her out for coffee to catch up. The rest being history.

Topper on the other hand had a serious relationship that he left out west. Y/N was everything to Topper at one point in his life. He had grown from his relationship in high school. Learning from his mistake he always tried to not be clingy towards her. She was a history major, planning on becoming a teacher. Y/N loved kids, she always dreamt of having plenty of her own. Topper and Y/N were together for almost four and half years. Y/N thought she was going to marry Topper, never imagining her life with anyone else. They had made plans together. Moving back to the Carolina’s when they both finished school. Topper working at law firm for a while before starting his own practice, Y/N working at the high school he went too, or maybe the elementary school. They both wanted kids, Y/N wanted more then him, but they could compromise. They wanted to buy a nice house by the water, teach the kids how to surf, have a garden, maybe a dog. Everything was planned, until it wasn’t.

Y/N’s mom got sick her last year of university. Her mom had been sick a lot when she was a child, always spending time at other family’s houses growing up. She was an only child and her dad left when she was a little girl. When Y/N got the news that her mother was sick and needed her help, she didn’t question transferring to a university closer to home. In all honesty she thought about dropping out, being with her mom full time. The doctor told Y/N that this was her last fight. They thought she might’ve had 5 good years left, if they were lucky. When she told Topper this, he held her while she cried. He didn’t know a lot about her childhood, just assumed she like to keep that private, but that night she told him everything. Maybe she should have waited to bring up leaving, but she had to get everything off her chest that night. “Top, she only has a couple years left. I need to spend those with her. I need to be there for her.” Y/N tells him through tears and sniffles. “Wait, what do you mean? You’re not leaving, are you? Y/N/N, we have plans.” Topper was upset that she could so easily replace him. Not thinking twice about it. “You can come with me; we can do this together. I’m not sure if I can do this without you. Please Top, come with me. I need you.” She looked into his eyes and got the answer she wasn’t looking for. She saw anger and hurt. This wasn’t the Topper she fell in love. The one that was so kind and thoughtful.

That was where things ended. He wasn’t changing his life, not the life they wanted for her. It was selfish of him, but they had plans. So they went their separate ways. Topper always kept an eye on the obituaries from her hometown. A couple years after being with Sarah he finally saw it. Y/N’s mom had died and left everything to her. He sent a card and donation, wondering if she ever got. He even paid all the funeral expenses. In some way he was trying to make up for the hurt he caused her. That next day he proposed to Sarah. When they were sending invitations to everyone, Sarah asked if his list was ready. They had the same friends so they only people extra he wanted to invite were some colleagues and old university buddies. He kept one invitation for himself though. Not telling Sarah why he wanted and extra one. He wanted to send one to Y/N, but he wanted to send more then just an invitation, he wrote her letter, wanting to get things off his chest before claiming his love to another women in front of a church. He knew it was wrong to send it, but he didn’t care. He figured you’d moved anyways after your mom died. You always said you hated your hometown. He sat down at his desk grabbing a pen and just started to write.

Dear Y/N,

I don’t know why I’m doing this. I can’t being to imagine what you must be thinking right now. I could take a swing at it though. Maybe your think what the hell is he writing me letter for. He broke my heart; he tore it into a million piece when I needed him the most. I don’t know why I did that to you. I think maybe because I got so scared you were going to leave and move on without me. I had pictured our life a certain way for so long that I didn’t want it to go any other way. I fucked up Y/N. I fucked you over when you left. I read about your mother online. I should have been there with you to get through everything. I should have been there with you, to hold you when you cried for her, to help make the big decisions. I donated to the charity you picked out. The school meal program, the was sweet. You can see that I’m getting married, to Sarah of all people. She’s a nurse now, working at the hospital with my mom. Things have gotten better with my mom. Things aren’t so bad between us. She loves planning this wedding, her and Sarah are like kids in candy store with the details. I finished law school; I’m working at firm here on the island. It’s nice to be home, I’ve enjoyed surfing on the east coast again. Sometimes I look around and I wonder if things would have been different if you stayed and we did this together. I wonder if you would have liked it here or maybe you wouldn’t because you hate storms, and we get a lot of hurricanes. I want to apologize Y/N. I want to say I’m sorry for hurting you the way I did. I’ll never forgot the look on your face that night. It keeps me awake at night. What I did to you Y/N, it was wrong, and I wouldn’t blame you for ripping this letter up and not giving me second thought. But if you don’t if you read this know that I’m inviting you to the wedding. I want you there, and not in some vengeful way, but as someone who I still want to have there. I understand if you don’t want to come but I hope you find it somewhere in your heart to change your mind.

Yours truly, Topper

It was sunny that day. Y/N had run to the post office on her break at work. She had finished her degree a year late, opting to take a year off when her mother first got sick. She got three good years with mom. They did everything on her bucket list. They went to Italy, then went rock climbing. Her mom took a cooking class, but most importantly she watched her daughter get married. When Y/N moved back home, she had no time for men. She wasn’t over Topper and wanted to put her full focus on her mom. After a while things got better and her heart started to hurt less. She wasn’t looking for a relationship, but when a new teacher started at her school her boss asked her to help him out. Evan was great. He was funny, kind and smart. He listened to everything she had to say. He heard from other teachers what was going with her mom and he became her support person. He proposed after only eight months of being together, but the two of them were so happy. It was different happy then Topper. He didn’t make her feel the same way but she had to come to terms with the fact the no one was going to make her feel that way. It wasn’t fair to Evan to expect him to be someone he’s not. When he proposed it was the best day of her life. You guys did rush the wedding, but only because Y/N wanted her mom to be there. That was the last thing on her bucket list. To see her little girl, get married. Evan and Y/N didn’t take a honeymoon because a few weeks after the wedding her mom had finally passed. Y/N was devasted, she was hoping by some miraculous discovery they would cure her. It was a poor girl dream that didn’t come true. Y/N had planned the funeral with the help of Evan. When Evan went to pay for the funeral, the pastor told him it was already paid for by an angel donor. When he talked to her about, she assumed it was someone in the town that knew her mother.

When Y/N saw the letter she recognized Topper’s hand writing. It was like a child’s, scribbled and almost unreadable. She could only read it from years of helping him study for tests. Her heart stopped for the second time in her life. Sitting in her car reading the words he wrote to her brought back a lot of painful memories she sooner forget. She was so angry with him for bringing the past up but was happy to know that he had moved on from her. She never doubted that he would, after being so cruel to her, she began to wonder if all those years were just lies. Some sick joke to him. Though no matter what he did, Topper Thornton always held a special spot in her heart. She looked at the wedding invitation that went sent along with the letter and wondered if she should go. She could be spiteful and bring Evan with her making Topper fell some sort of pain. She didn’t think he could ever feel the same pain as she did. If it weren’t for Evan she would be alone right now.

Weeks turned into months and Y/N never told Evan about the letter she received. At first, she thought she wouldn’t go. Not giving Topper the validation that he still had some hold on her, but then she thought it might bring her closure to see him getting married. Maybe it would be like officially closing that chapter of her life. That’s what brought her to place she is now. Sitting in a plane on her way to North Carolina to watch the man she once so dearly loved get married. She brought a simple dress not wanting to stand out, as she clearly wasn’t going to know anyone. She had only been this nervous a few times before. Waving the flight attendant over for a drink, liquid courage is what she needed. She wasn’t going to make a scene. Just sneak in the back, watch them say their vows, and sneak back out. She didn’t even book a hotel room opting to leave right after. She told Evan that she was meeting a friend out there from college which wasn’t a complete lie.

After the longest flight of her life, she caught the last fairy boat to Topper’s hometown. She drove through town in a rental car. It was small but cute. She found herself picturing the life she could’ve had. All the things Topper told her about his childhood. She even drove by the school reminiscing on the time she spent with Topper. With 10 minutes until the wedding she parked the car outside the venue. Just breathe Y/N, they’re so many people here he wont even notice you. Twisting the ring on her finger she pulled herself out of the car and towards the church. Sitting in the back Y/N listened to people talk. All of them speaking about Topper and Sarah when they were younger, how he couldn’t have found anyone better. She noticed that he’s not up at the alter. She remembered that he always wanted his mom to walk him down the aisle, saying it just made sense.

Y/N was pulled from her train of thought when the music started to play, watching as the door opened. Her heart stopped; there he was. He had aged. He let his beard grow out a bit, and his hair was lighter. He looked so handsome in his tux. His mother looked the same as always, stern but happy. Then the wedding party came out three bridesmaids and three groomsmen. You recognized one of them being Rafe Cameron. You met him a couple times with Topper, they were best friends, but he was heavy into the drugs. He didn’t look strung out though. When ‘here comes the bride’ started everyone stood and turned towards the door. When they opened again a beautiful woman stepped out with her father. She looked stunning, the dress was simple and delicate and looked like it matched her personality. Y/N felt jealous of her, she wanted to be the one wearing the dress. Looking up at Topper, he looked like he was going to cry. That’s when it happened, he looked around the room to take the moment in, he saw her standing in the back looking at Sarah. He didn’t think she would come but he was glad she did. She looked older, but happy. She changed her hair colour, finally got the bangs she always talked about getting. Looking at her and then back at Sarah, Topper knew he was making the biggest mistake of his life. He wanted to run but knew he couldn’t hurt Sarah like he did Y/N. He couldn’t break two girls hearts’. So, with that he kept his eye on Sarah and forced himself to make the biggest mistake ever.

#topper thorton imagine #topper thorton x reader #topper obx #topper outer banks #austin north #outer banks #sarah x topper #sarah cameron #topper thorton x y/n #topper thorton #topper thornton x y/n

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glitterytidalwavedragon · 3 years

Text

Expanding into my other Fandoms (I’m gonna have to take a stance) Read the whole thing please.

One of my oldest and most beloved anime is Inuyasha. As of late I have been binged watching the hell out of it as I am getting my BFF into different anime shows. We are really close to entering the Yashahime part of the series, and she asked if I planned to write fanfiction involving the one character which made me even watch the show as a 10-year-old.

Sesshomaru

The first episode I ever watched involved this aloof, entitled dog fighting his brother over the sword in their father’s grave. Specifically, it was part 3 of that whole episode series were Kagome pulled out the sword. I at the time had 3 dogs of German Sheppard/wolf hybrid, they were MASSIVE dogs, fell in love with the big white fluff that was Sesshomaru’s demon form. I use to sneak staying up and watch the show faithfully to see the goodest boy as it was only on at 11pm EST on adult swim. Which meant it was bad and I was breaking the rules, I felt like a rebel.

Now I hesitated answering that question. She has no idea of what is in Yashahime, she is being careful not to spoil it so I told her I didn’t know. Recently, to find out what the feel is for Sesshomaru content, I looked into the tag on tumblr…

OH MY GOD.

Sesshomaru’s tag is FLOODED with hate. Like every four post, there is hate, distain, and attacking happening. As someone who watches Yashahime, I quickly knew why.

Sessrin.

Even now I sigh. And I sigh HARD. I am not for, nor am I against the Sessrin train. Same for the Sesskagu train. I think both sides need to look at things on a logical prospective. I plan to do just that. I know I will get hate from the either side and maybe some support as well. But if I am going to do anything in this fandom (as I like doing ships and reader inserts) it will come up.

So, like my Kaiba post, and my Sebastian Heel post, I will use my research skills as well as my COLLEGE DEGREE WHICH HAS BOTH ART AND MEDIEVAL HISTORY labelled on it to explain why this progression in the story is normal to anti-Sessrin fans and why this isn’t a crime by story standards nor should we look at it as a crime.

AS WELL

Explain to Sessrin fans why it is so weird for non-shippers to see it play out and why so much hate formed.

As I let out another sigh, we shall begin. Let’s start at an historical prospective. (Links at the bottom).

PLEASE READ THE WHOLE THING! I’LL BE ABLE TO TELL!

I will start with the information I can access right away.

While finding charts on the life-span of common folk in 1590’s Feudal Japan is rather difficult, Ancient.edu states that the average lifespan was about 50. To put this in perspective, the average lifespan of Europeans at the time was somewhere between 40-45 with the latter being rare. Since most of us reading are not from Japanese descent, I will through Europe in this first.

If we look at the same time frame of 1590, we are looking at most of Western Europe had now entered the age of Renaissance. According to sources from Learning Resources in association with the National Gallery of Art, marriage was not what TV drama’s from HBO or Hulu depicted. By today standards they would be a crime, as the average age for marriage of an adult female was age 14…

The reasoning behind the young marriage age had multiple factors. First being, females were considered an adult once they were menstruating. Birthing also proved to be fatal, and since the lifespan was at best 40 and 45 if they were lucky, there was really no room to wait. Also Europe at the time had became hugely focused on making sure blood lines were legitimate, meaning to ensure the girl was a virgin, the moment she was able to reproduced she was married off. Those they married were not young teenagers either. Most marriages, a man would be in their thirties, and had probably multiple wives as women died more than men when not counting the battle field.

To make matters worse for the Renaissance Lady, these marriages would leave many young males unable to marry and if their husband died in battle, well, unfortunately they were not seen as desirable. This was due to the idea of a ‘free woman’. Should the girl not have a father, brother or uncle to return to as they too died, a widow had her freedom. But that freedom came at a cost. She would be assumed to have slept around, and in many writings, such as the Canterbury Tales, where Geoffrey Chaucer writes about a Window on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land survived her five husbands and the men in her family. In short, she was made to be a slut and to be looked down upon as no man controlled her.

The point of talking about Europe is because that is something most of us Non-Asian or Japanese people consume and like to paint in large romantic brush strokes of knights and magic. Honestly, reading G.R.R.Martin Song of Ice and Fire, he uses this model as we see the Queen of Dragons, Danny start off at age thirteen shortly after she had her first menstruation.

Now let’s look at Feudal Japan.

As stated before, the lifespan was around 50 years. In some populations, this was even shorter. Nagaoka, Hirata, Yokota and Matsu’ura’s on demographic data at the Yuigahama-minami area in Kamakura, Japan and found both male and female remains that suggested life expectancy to have ended around age 24-25. This was largely due to living conditions and public health. In areas like these, it would make the most sense to marry and repopulate quickly as the expectancy of life was half the national average at the time.

To my frustration, I could not find a clear marriage age for Japanese women at the time of the edo period. HOWEVER, where there is a will there is a way. I took a look at famous Lords or Daimyo’s of the time. The average age of marriage of their wives was between 12-14. Much younger than I expected, but it made sense considering this is a time where war ran the show and marriage was strictly about political gain. One of these Daimyo’s was Masamune Date, who was also 13, but then as he got older took concubines who became considerably younger than him as he became older. The goal was to have as many children as possible for hires and for political marriages to gain power.

Now lets look at Inuyasha the MANGA

Lets get the manga timeline proper here. The whole adventure took place in 11 months, a month shy of Kagome’s 16th birthday. Doing a few estimations, Rin would have travelled with Sesshomaru about 8-9 of those months. But before we get into the relationship, lets look at something the ANIME made a huge mistake with in the beginning and tried to fix as the story went on.

For some reason I could only fine gifs for the Early appearances of Sesshomaru so bear with me.

Early appearances in the manga

^ He was so fickle and a trickster then...

Now early apperances in the anime.

Later appearance in the manga

Laster appearance in the anime

Notice the issue here?

Sesshomaru was CONSIDERABLY younger looking in the start of the manga. In the anime, he started off looking like an fully adult male. But as the anime went on, they tried to make Sesshomaru look younger with subtle changes to his jaw line, eye size, and his height. Yeah, his height had changed. They made him shorter.

While in the manga, we see this young-teen looking demon, slowly mature over 11 months to look like he is in his later teens and by series end, closer to being in his late teens or twenty. Yes, art changes over time, but the anime went a reverse route. I can only guess they spoke to the author of Inuyasha about her ships, as they did Drama CDs, and realized the mistake that was made in making him more mature than he was.

You can’t tell me he doesn’t look closer to his manga self in the final act, because he does.

Since we are on the topic of the anime, lets be clear. The anime timeline and manga timeline are very different. The story in the anime (in the English) suggests that OVER a year has past since Kagome started her journey. They try to fix this in the final act, but it was still so muddled as previous seasons are to be taken as cannon. This could have been due to an translation error in the early production when the anime no longer had anymore manga material to reference. But whatever the case, for English viewers the time the group spent together felt much longer.

So now we come to the heart of the issue.

Because of the mistakes of the anime, a lot of anti-sessrin see the relationship as father daughter. I’ll be honest, watching the anime and solely the anime as a teenager and as an adult (as the manga was on hold for a very long time due to author’s health. I was in college when it finished.), I too thought it was just a father-daughter relationship and Jaken the nanny who got punched all the time. In fact, the English took hard liberties with Kagura, as the English dubs often do with characters, and made it very clear her feelings for the demon lord and Sesshomaru very much recognized them (though he never responded). Even in her death scene, it felt as if he was saying good bye to a friend more than love interest. But who really knows, as there are things that point otherwise. When another demon mock’s Kagura’s death, Sesshomaru gets super pissy.

The manga did also play with this fact when it came out in English, idk if the wording or message is different in the Japanese. Translation errors happen a lot even in todays releases, look at Kuroshitsuji. So of course most anti-sessrin’s did not see this coming in Yashahime when Rin was named mother. In fact it felt like a betrayal as we were sure Sesshomaru had no romantic feelings.

Then there was the Kohaku/Rin mashup that was hinted left and right. The English anime, with its overly dramatic and blunt emotions made it appear one way. That in the end the two kids would probably be married. Then the anime as a whole made Sesshomaru older than intended. I can see why and understand how this became a problem.

On the other side of that coin.

If you followed the dub, seen ‘Swords of an Honorable Ruler’ and read the manga… Sesshomaru was not fatherly to Rin at all. In fact, Jaken picked up all of that leg work. Rin worried for Kohaku, but clearly loved Lord Sesshomaru. Sesshomaru cared about Kagura but he almost CRIED when he lost Rin.

We have to remember that Sesshomaru and Rin’s relationship must have been very hard for the demon. While we never see his mental process expect for a few rare times, we have to remember he hated humans. In the movie, he blamed a human for the early death of his father, Sesshomaru killed without mercy. It made sense that he wouldn’t be fatherly to Rin as her just being there should have caused countless inner conflicts. Hell, he even says his father’s weakness was humans, and look who picked up that trait.

Sesshomaru was designed to, someday, walk in his father’s footsteps. So sess/rin, not a surprise. Also when you see it in a historical perspective, Rin having kids around age 15-16, makes sense. In fact you could argue he waited too long for the time period.

We also need to look more at the manga when concerned with Yashahime. 8-9 months is all Rin travelled with him and he was like hold up, and left her at the village because he KNEW she needed to come to her own conclusion. That no matter what she picked he would live with and protect her. Unconditional love on his end. She cannon wise spent YEARS living with humans and MONTHS with Sesshomaru. Again, by manga standards of cannon.

Now I can already hear the screaming about age and what not. Some sources say Sesshomaru is over 900, by the rule of thumb, if we look at anime and movie releases, we have Sesshomaru being over 500 with no define age and Inuyasha around 270 years old being more pinpointed due to the movie. Just by going by ANIME CANNON. Kagome and Inuyasha, you have a 15 year old with a 270 year old man. If you say being pinned to the tree doesn’t count, then you have 220.

Also, here is something very interesting. In the episode where Inuyasha meets the unmother, he tells her, thinking it was his mom, she died when he was very small and we have flash backs later in the series of him being small running from demons. Demons clearly age much slower than humans, even half-demons. Inuyasha can be 270 but mentally and physically be 15, the same logic works for Sesshomaru, who in the manga is not much older than Inuyasha.

In the manga, there wasn’t any grooming, in the anime, there was a ton of mess-ups but no grooming.

Would this fly in todays world? HELL NO! NO, its gross, she’s a kid. Stop.

I know any fanfic I write will lean heavily on the side of father/daughter because that is what I grew up seeing on the screen. I can’t think of Rin as an adult because years of seeing her as a cheerful little girl. It’s like seeing G.O.T Arya about to have sex for the first time in season 8… I remember when she was a kid on the show. It was way to weird and I had to look away until it ended. But that’s my 2021 mentality.

But Inuyasha is not taking place in 2021. Feudal Japan is a whole other era with its own beliefs, morals and way of life. Those who understand this have nothing wrong with them. They just understand history.

Also, just to bang some nails in…

Anyone remember Bleach? Remember the MOST accepted couple was Ichigo and Rukia…. Rukia who was hundreds of years old and Ichigo who was 15… or Ichigo’s mom who was a teenager and his dad also hundreds of years old.

Most of this also boils down to Sesshomaru being a dude. As in reverse roles in animes its accepted and they don’t have the same historical context. Inuyasha is based off of historical context of Feudal Japan.

We need to stop spreading hate. We can’t accept some forms of literature because its European fantasy but bash other fantasy based literature for doing the same thing.

Sure, its weird for those who were use to seeing the father/daughter dynamic. Yes, there are extreme sessrin fans who post really questionable illegal content when they decide to leave Rin as an 8-year-old…

But this wasn’t ever meant to be perverted. The story was meant to make sense on a logical and historical base.

I hope everyone takes the time to read this. I love Inuyasha, I love Sesshomaru. I am just sick of seeing so many people fighting over what should be the revival of a beloved series. While yes, there is still room for sess/rin not being a thing, until it is stated otherwise, why hate each other? This fandom will only lose people by doing this. Calling people names or accusing them of illegal endorsement can hurt someone these days over social media.

Tumblr allows you to block tags. You don’t have to read anything or watch anything you don’t like. We gain nothing from attacking each other but can lose so much by doing so. Fanart, really good fan fiction, friends, ideas, sharing fond memories. Both sides have the right to feel as they feel, but no right in hurting each other.

A fandom is meant to bring people together. Not start a war…

Thank you.

https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1002/ajpa.20402

http://www.italianrenaissanceresources.com/units/unit-2/essays/husbands-and-wives/#:~:text=Marriage%20not%20only%20reflected%20order,to%20ensure%20the%20bride's%20virginity.

https://www.ancient.eu/Canterbury_Tales/

https://www.ancient.eu/article/1424/daily-life-in-medieval-japan/#:~:text=Just%20as%20Japanese%20people%20today,in%20Western%20Europe%2C%20for%20example.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Date_Masamune

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Megohime

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thescullyphile · 3 years

Text

Dana Scully, Handyman

Drip... Drip... Drip...

Mulder’s sink is broken, and he doesn’t know what to do. Maintenance was not a skill taught in the Vineyard. He places a bucket under his leaking pipes and goes to work with the optimistic hope that the bucket won’t overflow.

356, 357, 358...He mentally counts the drips throughout the day, something to distract him other than throwing pencils at the ceiling. Unlike chasing a religious sect of possible aliens, office work is boring. It’s even worse when Scully leaves, like she has now, to get her lunch. He is so engrossed that he misses Scully’s return, and her calling his name, until she waves her hand in front of him. “Sorry, sorry, what were you saying?”

Scully places a bottle of sweet tea in front of him. “The vending machine gave me two.” She explains. “What’re you thinking about? You were pretty far off there.”

Mulder cracks open the tea, nodding appreciatively in her direction. “Just wondering how many drops of water a two gallon bucket can hold.”

The quizzical look that he garners from Scully prompts him to give a better explanation.

“My kitchen sink’s leaking and I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

“Oh.” Scully pauses to unwrap her salad. “Do you want me to look at it?”

Mulder finds himself nodding before he knows what is happening. His brain is functioning in a different realm than his mouth as they settle the details. Scully will come over to his apartment after work. She will go home first to change and pick up her tool box. (Mulder only has some duct tape and a hammer.) Those are the facts, but Mulder doesn’t fully finish processing them until he is checking out the ingredients for spaghetti from the grocer’s near his apartment. It occurs to him, as he swipes his card, that they never actually talked about dinner. But it’s too late now. He’s twenty dollars poorer, and finds he doesn’t mind it, if making Scully dinner is the reason. Why he’s happy about making dinner for his partner is a good question, but Mulder doesn’t have the time to put his psychology degree to use.

Laden with groceries, Mulder takes one step inside of his apartment and grimaces. This will not do. Though definitely not a bachelor pad, 42 Hegal Place has seen its better days, and was, Mulder realized, not fit for company. After about thirty minutes of opening windows and picking up socks, Mulder was satisfied that Scully, upon walking in, would not think she had been transported to a prehistoric cave dwelling.

A knock sounds from his front door as Mulder is chopping onions. His eyes are watering as he trips over himself to open the door, irrationally afraid that if he’s not fast enough she’ll just walk away and he’ll be left with a table for one and spaghetti for two. And a leaky sink.

“Hi, come on in.” His voice is a little breathless but Scully smiles anyways. She’s wearing worn blue jeans, cuffed so she won’t step on the hem, and a t-shirt. Work clothes. Real work clothes. It occurs to Mulder that this is the first time that he’s seen her bare arms since that night in Oregon a few months ago. She looks good.

Scully follows him into the kitchen, eyeing his preparations for dinner but saying nothing, which makes Mulder nervous. He opens the cabinet under the sink, motions to the leaking pipes halfheartedly. “I can only tell you that it’s leaking, I really don’t know much about plumbing.” The bucket, which had occupied his mind so stubbornly earlier that day, had been forgotten, and now stands half an inch from overflowing under his sink. It sloshes as he yanks it out by the handle. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna go empty this out. In the...bathroom.”

Mulder makes his escape, facepalms a little, because why is he being so weird? It’s just Scully.

Bucket empty, he returns to the kitchen to find Scully on her back, looking like she knows what she’s doing. So that makes one of them. Her knee jerks a little, surprised, he thinks, from the unexpected sensation of a drop of water falling onto her face. Mulder offers her a towel, and her voice sounds tinny from under the sink as she thanks him.

Left with nothing to do, Mulder stands there for a moment, but watching Scully fix the sink feels somewhat creepy, so he turns back to the stove and tries to remind himself how to cook pasta. Fifteen minutes later, she finishes working and gives him the all clear just in time to drain the spaghetti. He almost forgets a colander, and is ten seconds away from pouring pasta down the drain before common sense kicks in.

Scully explains what was wrong with the pipes like he knows enough to understand her, but Mulder doesn’t really know what she’s talking about. He can’t think about anything, too anxious that he’s going to miss his window to invite her to join him for dinner. Her sentence is barely ended before he’s blurting out “Will you stay to eat?

“I don’t want to impose, Mulder.”

“Please? It’s the least I can do, really.”

Scully smiles a bit. “Well, if you insist.”

Scully sets the table while Mulder serves, thinking fleetingly that he wished he had some parsley for a garnish before deciding it would be stupid. What kind of person just has parsley on hand?

They eat in silence for a moment, briefly awkward before Mulder clears his throat. “So, any fun story about how you became a one woman maintenance company?”

“Sort of.” Scully gives a fond, private little smile. “I was eight, and my dad had just come back home, and the house needed some work. I wanted to help so badly, but my dad only asked for Bill and Charlie. So I spent the week at the library, reading every manual and guide I could get my hands on- God only knows what the librarian thought- until I was certain that I knew more than the boys.” She chuckles at the memory, eyes twinkling as she looks at Mulder like they now have a shared secret.

“That weekend my dad needed help again and I just hung around until he finally gave me something to do. The boys weren’t much help after that...And the rest is history.” Mulder can imagine it, young Dana Katherine with steady hands, more patient than her brothers, as good a partner as she is now. “When my dad died,” Her voice wavers, the wound still fresh, “he left me the tool box. Bill was kind of bitter about that.”

It’s then that Mulder notices the ‘Scully’ neatly penciled in a hand he doesn’t recognize on the side of the box. He smiles, tries not to think about how Captain Scully raised a better son in his daughter than Mulder’s father raised in him.

The conversation flows more smoothly after they’ve broken the ice as friends, and Mulder has a better time than he’d dared to hope for. His apartment gets dark as night sets in, and Scully checks her utilitarian little watch hopefully, only to cock her head to the side in apology. “I should go home, it’s getting late.”

Unable to argue with the passing of time, Mulder sees her to the door, uncharacteristically bashful as she thanks him for dinner. “It’s nothing, I mean, you gave me a sweet tea today, so,” He trails off with a shrug, pleased that he’s earned a smile from her. She steps into the hallway. “Well, thank you anyways.”

They part hesitantly, like children. The door clicks shut.

#the x files #x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #this is S1 btw #and I’m sorry for the awful long bit before the break but that’s the only way I’m able to post it #bc tumblr mobile sucks #and I had to cut almost 100 words :(#but here it is!

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

Text

April Contest Submission #3: Prism of White

Words: ca. 5,200 Setting: Modern AU Lemon: No CW: none

Light filtered through the window casting the room in a golden glow. Papers lay crumpled and torn on the coffee table and the floor beneath. Anna tossed her sketchbook on the table and threw her pencil next to it. Weeks passed and she still didn’t have another good idea for her next art piece. Her hands grasped a pillow on the couch beside her. Her freckled face buried in the soft cushion, a muffled groan joining the white-noise of the television in the background.

Art had been a passion of hers ever since her stubby toddler fingers first grasped that pack of cheap crayons. Her parents laid scrap paper out in front of her at the kitchen table. The adults left the room shortly after thinking little Anna would be occupied for a little more than five minutes. Overjoyed with all the colors in the box, now strewn over the table some rolling to the floor, little Anna picked up the green and began to scribble in swirls and loops like any child does. Her mother came back ten minutes later to check on her and grab a cup of afternoon coffee. A gasp tore from her throat and her blue eyes widened at the site. The walls had been little Anna’s first canvas.

She laughed at the memory, the sound muffled by the pillow still pressed against her face. The scolding she received after that event lost to the feeling of joy at the colors swirling around her. Back then art had been carefree and fun. Now the blank pages in her sketchbook mocked her with that textured whiteness.

Twenty-one years of sketching, painting, throwing color on canvas’ of varying degrees, making a life out of it. A dream come true. One that would have been impossible if not from the support of her friends and family. One person in particular. Elsa.

Little Elsa could light up Anna’s world by merely stepping into the room. She used to be so very timid and quiet, often opting to hide in the corner with a book than engage with the other kids her age. Anna managed to pull her into their little games anyway.

As the two grew older their interests diverged slightly. They both found joy in the arts, joining in theater at school for fun, playing and listening to music (although their tastes differed vastly at times), and studying the history behind all forms of art. A bond formed and kept them close even when one started painting and sketching while the other used words to color with.

A writer’s search history and an artist’s eye left plenty for friends to laugh and grow concerned about.

Anna lifted her head from the pillow feeling someone fiddle with her twin braids. She smiled already knowing who it was behind her.

“What are you so distressed about?” Elsa hummed out sweetly. Her eyes swept over the paper littered around and the discarded sketchbook. “Can’t think of a good idea?”

Anna groaned again and buried her head back in the pillow. Her reply came muffled and she knew Elsa wouldn’t be able to understand a word of it. This problem she had wasn’t that much of a big deal. Anna knew that. Every artist had periods where they couldn’t draw. An artblock as she so affectionately called it. But this felt different. She had ideas. The vision of what she wanted to draw sat crystal clear in her mind’s eye, but when she picked up the pencil each stroke on the page felt weighted. She knew what she wanted to put on the paper. She hated each stroke she made and the finished result. Weeks of this and the stress of not creating made her head spin. The ride she had been on had stopped with her sitting upside down unable to do anything.

The couch dipped beside her as Elsa sat down. Pale hands pulled the pillow Anna was secretly hoping would suffocate her until freckled cheeks and a pouty lip were visible. Anna whined and reached out for the cushion. Elsa held it out of reach ignoring the dark spot where Anna drooled on it.

“Ah-Ah,” Elsa wagged her finger. Anna’s shoulder slumped forward in despair. “You can get the pillow back and resume your little, um , whatever you were doing after you tell me what’s wrong.”

Sea-green eyes lowered to the open sketchbook, a frown settled on her lips. “I - I hate everything I make and it’s driving me crazy.”

Elsa set the pillow aside and shuffled closer to Anna. She gave her knee a reassuring squeeze and gently asked, “Is it one of your artblocks?”

Anna shook her head, braids swaying. “No, this is different. I know what I want to draw, I have the motivation to draw, but I can’t seem to like what I make. I hate the finished result, even if it looks how I wanted.” Her eyes glistened with frustrated tears, “It’s been like this for weeks and I’m going insane trying to fix it.”

Elsa cupped her cheek, running her thumb soothingly over the skin. Anna nuzzled into her palm, eyes fluttering shut at the coolness of her skin. “Anna,” she opened her eyes to see an amused smirk dancing on pink lips, a glint of humor dancing in blue eyes, “is this your first burnout?”

Her whole body stilled at the question. Burnout had been something she knew her artist friends over the internet talked about. How it could hit someone suddenly or slowly creep on through the years. The former could usually be seen coming and dealt with by short breaks, but the latter often crippled careers as it snuck in through the cracks undetected and infected everything slowly like a poison. Anna gasped lightly at the realization.

The ride she had been on for the majority of her adult life (granted it had only been 3 years since she graduated high school) was fast paced and constantly moving. She did not stop or get off, only urging it to move faster and faster. The need to create and improve outweighed any thought or concern the stress her body and mind were put under. She ignored all the signs, the warnings people told her to look for and now the stress had crushed her.

“What am I gonna do?” Her voice came out broken and unsure. Burnout was a completely foreign field for her. There was no map for her, no field guide to help her navigate through this problem. People mention taking breaks and stepping away from art for awhile to recharge, but that seemed impossible. How could Anna stop creating, when all she wanted to do was create?

“Is this new project for a client?” Elsa noticed the distress on Anna’s face and dropped her hand down from her cheek to grasp shaking ones.

“No, it’s one I plan to sell, or have prints made for my shop.”

Elsa nodded, “Okay. And do you have any client work lined up for the month?”

Anna answered in the negative. She had started a new system for her works where certain months she decided not to take on any client work. It was an attempt not to be too overwhelmed working on custom pieces that allowed her the freedom to work on her own as well. The system worked fairly well until this burnout happened. At least it happened now instead of when she had to work on pieces for clients.

“Okay, okay we can definitely work with this,” she breathed out a plan already forming in her mind. She knew Anna wouldn’t take a break willingly, that wasn’t her style. She would draw and paint until her hands fell off and even then she’d learn to use her feet instead. Nothing would stop her, not even the end of the world. The complete opposite of Elsa who procrastinated her own projects till motivation was high or the deadline approached. She often wondered how they never drove each other crazy doing things so differently. Instead of finding a reason she just blamed it on love. It was better not to question it anyway.

“Anna,” she turned and faced the younger woman determinedly, prepared for protestation, “do you trust me?”

Anna cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “Of course I do, silly. It’s part of why I married you.”

Elsa smiled and held her tongue to keep from commenting. That experience would be one she would never forget. She at her wife, eyes bright and said,

“Then you’ll understand what I’m about to do.”

Anna’s gut twisted in apprehension. She trusted Elsa with her life, but the twinkle in pale blue eyes told her not all of this would be a pleasant experience.

—-

“Anna, what color is the sky?”

From her position in the passenger seat of the car Anna scowled, her eyes screwed shut in a desperate attempt to fall back asleep. Elsa refused to let her in on the plan the day before, only telling her to pack a days worth of clothes and food and then promptly took all her art supplies and locked them inside a large chest. She never quite figured out why they had a large empty chest lying around and when she asked Elsa the older girl shrugged saying something about secrets.

“What.” Anna grumbled confused at the question and irritated at being woken up at three in the morning and rushed out of the house.

Elsa glanced at her from the driver’s seat. “What color is the sky?” She turned her attention back to the road, very much awake and relaxed. The half empty cup of coffee sitting in the cup holder helped.

“What kind of question is that? The sky is blue!” Anna twisted over and leaned her head on the window, arms folded across her chest. Elsa still had yet to tell her where they were going and only mentioned a three hour car ride. That left plenty of time for her to catch up on sleep if her wife would let her.

“No, not - “ Elsa laughed at herself, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I meant what color is the sky right now?”

Anna cracked one eye open and grimaced at the passing street light that blinded her. “Black,” she stated matter-of-factly. Elsa hummed a smile on her face. She let Anna sleep the rest of the way, picking up and sipping her coffee. The low songs of the radio filling the silence in a quiet peace. She didn’t care for the station, but it was one of Anna’s favorites. The little things would make the difference on this trip.

Barely any time had passed, that’s what it felt like to Anna anyway, before a hand on her shoulder gently shook her awake. “What is it now,” she sighed tiredly and shuffled further into the car door. When she agreed to whatever Elsa had planned, losing sleep hadn’t even crossed her mind. She knew she was being unfair to her wife. Elsa only wanted to help. The stress of her burnout had taken its toll without consent and Anna wanted nothing more than to curl up in a corner and sulk. Sleep was the closest she could get right now, but the woman driving had other plans.

“What color is the sky now,” she asked eagerly. Her pale hand fell away and gripped the steering wheel again.

Anna squinted at the light outside. The night had faded to be greeted by the light of the sun just peeking over the horizon. Reds and oranges bled into pale blue as the orb of yellow and white ascended slowly. Any other day the she might have appreciated seeing the sunrise, she might have stared at the way the light shone and glistened along Elsa’s skin, bathing her in rays of gold. But it only annoyed her at having the same question asked in place of sleep. Still she answered,

“Red.”

Her eyes closed again with the plan to catch more sleep. Elsa didn’t bother her after that. She sipped her fresh cup of coffee, having stopped for gas before the sunrise. Anna grumbled under her breath adjusting to get comfortable in her seat again. Pink lips turned up at the corner in amusement. Anna may be grumpy beyond belief this morning and she knew it was her doing. The outcome of this trip will be worth it. Elsa knew it, could feel it in her bones. She could only hope Anna didn’t throw her in the lake as payback when they got there.

Elsa smirked watching, pulling out a pair of sunglasses and slipping them on. The day was only beginning. The coffee singed her tongue as she took another sip.

If Anna did throw her in the lake, she made sure to have plenty of jokes ready.

Gravel crunched under the tires as the car pulled off the main road. The road itself wasn’t too bad in terms of a drive. Anna woke up quietly glancing around at the trees and greenery around them. She said nothing to tell Elsa she was awake and continued to stare out the window. The sight felt familiar, she knew this place but couldn’t quite care enough to place it. Sleep still clouded mind and even if it was Wednesday she liked to sleep in late and stay up late instead. This whole early to bed and early to rise business wasn’t for her.

A light chuckle from her left told Anna all she needed to know. “There’s hot chocolate for you since you’re not the biggest fan of coffee.” Elsa never took her eyes off the road and merely motioned to the cup holder between them.

“Thanks.” Anna took the cup nearly dropping it. No protective sleeve saved her from burning fingers, not even the paper cup itself. “Geez, why’s it so hot!” She glared at her sister.

“Didn’t know how long you were going to stay asleep so I asked them to make it extra hot.”

“Extra hot,” Anna guffawed, “This cup feels like it came straight out of Orodruin itself! You could have got me a protective sleeve for it or something!”

“I didn’t know how long you were going to sleep!” Anna folded her arms at Elsa’s response, “Besides, you always get annoyed at the sleeves opting to burn your fingers anyway.”

“Yes, but the cups are never that hot!”

Elsa only smiled.

The car slowed and stopped with a slight jolt. Anna hadn’t touched her drink again still waiting for it to cool down from Mount Doom level temperatures. She figured out why this place had seemed so familiar. Her parents used to take her camping out here toward the end of summer, always running around the lake and sometimes taking a ferry over to the small island.

“I grabbed us a backcountry permit if you wanted to stay away from the normal campsites.” Elsa held up the piece of paper before tucking it into her jacket pocket. Anna hummed her agreement and stretched in her seat.

“I’m gonna find the bathroom then we can hike to wherever.” She ducked out of the car, breathing in the fresh air. A warm feeling of nostalgia washed over her at the familiar sight. She hadn’t come back to this park in years. Anna walked across the parking lot toward the public restroom. Coming back to the lake hadn’t even crossed her mind. It’s almost sad really. To forget about a place she once loved so deeply, have it take up a corner of her mind as a memory she kept but never thought about.

She turned the faucet off and shook stray water drops from her hands, wiping the remaining wetness on her jeans. Anna never trusted the automatic air dryers.

When she arrived back to the car, Anna bit back a bark of laughter. Elsa had strapped each and every pack and bag to herself and looked overloaded, but all too eager like a puppy. She smiled broadly at Anna and handed her the much cooler cup, “Come on, let’s go! I know of the perfect spot!”

Anna took the cup, her shoulders shaking as she held in her laughter.

“Wait, Elsa. Let me carry some things.” Elsa paused mid-step and tilted her head. All the coffee had gone to her brain in the most adorable way. “How did you even manage to hold all the bags, even mine?” Anna pointedly looked at the deep green duffle bag with a bright orange patch on the side.

“I played a lot of tetris as a kid.” She shrugged but gave Anna two of the bags anyway.

Anna adjusted the strap of a bag on her shoulder. “Alright, now show me this perfect spot.”

The blonde grinned and grabbed Anna’s hand practically dragging her along toward the trail and into the bush. Anna could only keep up and pray her hot chocolate didn’t spill.

—-

Anna had to admit the spot Elsa had picked was perfect. A little spot hidden behind dense shrubbery. Well off the path and if someone did make it this far the thorn bushes were certainly a discouragement. She knew she’d be picking the sharp thorns out of her clothes for a while and if it weren’t for the view and the feeling of peace she’d make Elsa do it without a second thought. Anna’s had her second thought and is still intent on making Elsa do the work.

“Nice view, right?” Elsa wiped the dirt off her hands stepping over to Anna. She had finished setting up the tent and decided to see what was keeping her wife. The view itself looked over the entirety of the lake and the mountains surrounding it. The trees swayed in the breeze.

“It’s beautiful.” Anna tucked a piece of hair back into place. Elsa stepped up beside her. They stared at the scene in silence. A sense of peace forming around them. Anna closed her eyes listening to the birds singing in the trees and the wind rustling the branches. The smell of the air and the sun on her skin eased the tension in her shoulders she didn’t realize had been there. Anna felt free like she could step off the overlook and just fly. Elsa smiled at the content look on her face.

“Anna,” the red-head hummed and turned to face her, “what color is the sky?”

The question had her sighing exasperatedly. How many times would she ask that damned question. It didn’t make sense. She had answered it twice already. Inhaling deeply, Anna decided not to let this ruin the moment. She looked up at the sky, fluffy clouds dotting the expansive space.

“Blue. It’s blue.”

Elsa made no comment. Anna would have yelled at her but the pure love in pale blue eyes killed the thought before it formed. She found herself smiling back and shaking her head lightly. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

Elsa chuckled, “I know. Now come on, let’s go exploring a bit.”

Anna followed eagerly. Exploring she could do.

—-

Night life in the forest seemed impossibly loud compared to the day. Anna didn’t mind much. She found the noise comforting in a way. All the little life coming out with the safety of darkness. Comfortable now that the sun has gone and they can hide in the shadows of the night. She could understand it. The night offered a sort of peace the day could not. She loved the sun, loved the hustle and bustle of day life, but the night hit differently. She closed her eyes, a soft smile on her lips. The day’s activities replayed in her mind’s eye.

After running around, revisiting old trails and memories and making some new ones, the two women sat around a little fire. Anna made Elsa pick out all the thorns and burrs while she roasted marshmallows. While Elsa didn’t agree with s’mores before dinner she let it slide this once.

They relaxed after that, Anna rigged a stick with fishing gear and went fishing. She didn’t catch anything. She came back soaking wet and Elsa only raised a brow. She changed into some dry clothes and sat by the fire to get warm. Elsa turned from her book then, a cheeky grin on her face and said,

“You know I love it when you -” Anna smacked her before she should finish.

Now they lay peacefully staring up at the stars.

“Anna,” Elsa started in the quiet. Anna hummed in acknowledgment before her mind jump started back to nearly every quiet moment previously,

“You better not ask me what color the sky is or I swear to god you will find yourself at the bottom of the lake!”

The crickets chirped.

“What hue doth the heavens above appears to thine viewing orbs?”

Anna laughed. She laughed loud and hard. She knew Elsa would find a way to rephrase the question the second she threatened her, but she never expected her to phrase it like that. She rolled onto her side and clutched her stomach from the force of her laughter. “I-I can’t -” she wheezed, tears pricking the corners of her eyes, “I can’t breath.”

“You should have let me ask the question normal then.” The cheekiness in her voice had Anna swatting blindly behind her. Her hand connected with nothing but air.

“Fine, this is the last time I’m answering that stupid question,” Anna finally said after she stopped laughing and caught her breath. She rolled back to look at the sky and exhaled deeply a smile on her face, “Black, the sky is black.”

“Wrong.”

Anna propped herself up on her elbow. Wrong. The first response back to her answers and it was to tell her, Anna, that she answered wrong.

“What, how can I be wrong? Are you seeing the same sky I’m seeing?” Anna grit her teeth ready to fully argue her point.

“No, no calm down, feisty pants. Right now you could argue it’s black, or a very deep blue.”

“Then how am I wrong?!”

Elsa kept her gaze on the sky. “I asked you three four times today what color the sky was. Only two of the answers were the same. Can you explain that?” “The sky changes colors, you numpty.”

“So what color is the sky then if it changes?”

Anna didn’t have an answer to that. Elsa turned to face her, the moonlight making her blue eyes glow in the night.

“What color do you say the sky is then,” Anna asked, moving closer to Elsa. The night breeze had a bit of a chill, but she didn’t feel like getting a jacket. Her arm brushed against her wife’s.

“If you asked me what color the sky is, anytime of day or night, I’d tell you it’s white. I know it’s crazy, but think about it. In general people say the sky is blue, but it’s not always blue. You said it yourself, the sky changes colors, so why is it blue then?” She raised a hand and traced along various constellations as she spoke. “Is it because that’s the color we see it as mostly. Blue during the day? The history behind it is actually fascinating, but I won’t go into that. But the sky can be any color depending on when you look. Black, dark blue, orange and red, yellow and pink, purple and light blue, even green. The sky isn’t just one color or one shade. It’s all of them all the time, we just only see what the light shows us. That’s why I say it’s white. White reflects all colors, the sky cycles through the colors based on a bunch of scientific stuff that I’m a bit too tired to get into. I didn’t really prepare to get into that bit anyway.” she laughed at herself.

Anna lay in silence. She never really thought about it like that.

“But why white, why not black?”

Elsa sucked in a small breath before answering, “Black is the absence of colors. If the sky was black that’s all we’d see. A black hole sucking the colors away and leaving nothing behind but darkness. That’s why it’s white and not black.”

“Geez, that took a depressing turn.”

Elsa hummed and entwined her fingers with Anna’s. “Think of it as a prism. The sun shines through and casts the colors fresh and new through the day.”

“A blank canvas.” Anna found herself mumbling aloud. A blank canvas to be painted each day in the same ways that vastly differed if you looked hard enough. The subtle hues shifting day to day, the contrast of reds and oranges against purples and blues. All of it spinning endlessly in a cycle, a prism of color splattered across a canvas of white that never is seen as white.

The two remained watching the stars for a bit longer. The little dots of color splattered across the dark sky. Almost a reverse of my freckles. Anna mused to herself. The crisp air raised goosebumps on her arms.

Anna went to sleep that night, snuggled in her wife’s arms, feeling so refreshed and full of love she thought it might overflow. And it did. Her emotions flowed over in little drops that ran down her cheeks and she whispered over and over how much she loved Elsa. In turn with each ‘I love you’ a kiss was placed on her head, her cheek, her lips, and her body squeezed a bit tighter.

The white sky, painted with the color of night, left them to rest peacefully. The moon watching over them.

The trunk slammed shut and all the bags and trash were loaded in. Not nearly as neatly as before but as long as it wasn’t falling out Anna didn’t care. She awoke buzzing with renewed energy ready and eager to get back to work. Her burnout long forgotten. The three hour car ride didn’t seem so long even though Anna sat wide awake the entire trip. Elsa would probably need a day to recover from the amount of talking Anna did in that small time. Maybe a new book and quiet day in a coffee shop or a day spent curled up in her bed with nothing but mindless games to entertain herself with. Anna made a note to thank Elsa for forcing her out for a day, whatever she wanted.

Anna went to work the moment she stepped through the doorway. Pencil marks flew across the page in hurried fashion almost as if the vision would fade before she could get it down. Supplies were strewn out over the kitchen table and counter tops as Anna fell into what Elsa called ‘The detonation zone’. It was a mess, but also the time and place where Anna seemed to get the most work done.

Guess I’m not cooking. Elsa thought and picked up the phone. She was kinda in the mood for pizza anyway.

Pale blue eyes watched from where she leaned against the wall as the blur of auburn worked in a frenzy. Her movements were both hurried and agonizingly slow to preserve the details in a way only Anna managed to do. A mesmerizing sight she could watch for hours if not for the delivery man ringing her doorbell.

She made sure Anna knew of the food sitting in the living room.

“Okay, thank you!” Came the reply from the kitchen. Elsa chuckled and shook her head taking her own slice or two of pizza. She disappeared into their shared room for the rest of the evening. The one day trip seemed to have worked in Anna’s favor. Elsa made the mental note to schedule more day trips once in a while.

Time ticked by and Anna didn’t even notice. The pizza had gone cold and the sunlight faded away. The brush in her hand was set in the water cup for the last time.

“There.” Anna sat back finished. She smiled at the creation in front of her leaving it to dry as her stomach made known it’s need for food. The clock read late into the night, or early into the morning, depending on how you look at it. Maybe setting an alarm for food and breaks would be a good idea in the future. She decided it’d be worth a shot if only to save her from a stiff back at the end of the day.

Her paint stained hands grabbed a cold slice of pizza and promptly inhaled it followed by three more. The kitchen sat in a disastrous mess and the urge to put off cleaning up until the morning hit hard. Anna considered cleaning up the worst part about doing art. Elsa would likely clean up for her in the morning since she always woke up first. Anna knew that and decided not to let that happen. As much as Elsa said she didn’t mind and that’s what she signed up for by marrying her, Anna wouldn’t have it. Not after what she’d done for her the past day, or really since they first-started dating.

Anna turned the faucet on, warm water cleaning her stained hands, and she began the cleanup.

It wasn’t until around four in the morning that she finally headed to bed. The bedroom door creaked softly. Elsa snored softly, curled on her side snuggling a pillow. The sight made Anna fall in love with her all over again. Anna would never get tired of seeing her wife in such a peaceful and vulnerable state. Gently, she climbed into bed beside her.

“I love you.” she whispered and kissed Elsa’s cheek. Elsa let go of the pillow at the contact and fully snuggled against her wife. Anna wrapped her arms around her and kissed her softly again.

“I love you so much.”

Elsa woke to gentle rays of sun dancing across her face. Untangling herself from Anna she stepped outside of the room. She paused halfway closing the door and looked on fondly at the sleeping mess of her wife.

The kitchen was spotless, save for the canvas resting on the table. Even the sink was clean, supplies neatly drying on the rack where they were supposed to be. A smile graced her lips.

The coffee pot sputtered to life as it began brewing. It was only nine o’clock and Anna likely wouldn’t be up for another few hours. Being your own bosses had their perks. The brown liquid steamed as she poured it into a plain ceramic mug. The rich scent very much welcome this morning.

Anna would always scold her for drinking too much coffee. The thought brought another smile to her face. She really loved Anna and all that came with her.

Coffee in hand Elsa approached the canvas on the kitchen table. She made sure to stay for enough back that if something drastic happened her coffee would not stain the creation. She rounded the table and the sight made her pause. The colors and detail splattered across it showed just how much that camping trip had meant to her.

“Oh Anna,” her eyes lined with overflowing emotions as she took in the painting. “You’re still full of surprises.”

#elsanna #submission #April 2021 contest #prompt: break

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a-duck-with-a-book · 3 years

Text

REVIEW // The Mask of Mirrors (Rook & Rose #1) by M. A. Carrick

★★★★☆

🌟 HIDDEN GEM 🌟

I have a few conflicting feelings regarding this novel, although I found it to be overwhelmingly well-written, with beautiful prose and next-level world building. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: give me a map and a timeline and I will love your book. I decided to divide my review into what I loved, what rubbed me the wrong way, and what I remained on the fence about. (I’ve noticed I spent quite a bit of space detailed my dislikes, so I want to emphasize that I really enjoyed this book and that I this is one of the most well-written novels I have read this year.)

// image: official cover art //

Loved ♡

Scroll through the reviews and you will see that this book has received plenty of praise, and rightfully so. I’m a sucker for world-building, but I think even those who usually skim the lore and history lessons in novels will appreciate the efforts the authors went to in order to create the world around the protagonists. By the time I finished I found that I had learned more from one book than I had from reading some other full series. They are able to fit so much without relying on info dumps, allowing the book to truly come to life.

Secondly, I appreciated that the world was casually LGBTQ+ friendly. It has always bothered me when authors go to the trouble of creating a fantasy world just to make it… homophobic. There are a variety of LGBTQ+ characters, and while the authors ensure that their sexuality or gender identity is canon, they avoid using these same characteristics as plot points.

Also, look at the cover art.

Some spoilers ahead-be wary of SPOILER warnings!

Disliked :(

I’m not a massive fan of using multiple POV’s, and one of the main reasons I am apprehensive of them is that authors sometimes fail to balance the time the readers spend with each protagonist. This happens to an extreme degree in Mask of Mirrors. We spend 90% of the time seeing the story through Ren’s perspective, 5% through Grey, and 5% through Vargo. And yes, these are obviously just estimates, and YES, we also get a couple passages from other characters, but the point stands! I wish we had spent more time developing Grey’s storyline, as both his and Vargo’s character arcs felt rushed and underdeveloped. [SPOILER] After finishing the book, I see why it was useful to show both their POV’s less often in order to leave the ending a surprise for the reader, but I think it would have been much more emotionally impactful if we had been able to follow their stories and get to know them better through more POV’s. [SPOILER END] I wish the authors had either eliminated their passages altogether or inserted more from their perspective-in their current state, they make the book feel unbalanced.

Finally, I think Ren benefits a bit too much from plot armor. I don’t dislike her per se, but I did get annoyed from time to time when everything conveniently went her way. Especially at the beginning, so many puzzle pieces consistently come together for the sake of her storyline, and this just took me out of the story. It is only about halfway through the book that we see her begin to face actual consequences, although I would argue that she gets away with a LOT near the end of the book as well. This apparent invulnerability and extraordinarily good luck made her a bit hard to relate to and like, at least for me. At one point she also gets so angry with a couple other characters for lying abut who one of them was… but like… isn’t that her entire plot line… that she’s pretending to be someone else? It was just too difficult in that moment to sympathize with her anger when she was able to get off without any repercussions after her own con. When people did discover that she was lying about her identity, they forgave her almost immediately. [SPOILER] Leato and Giuna both seem to be angry and hurt, but almost immediately Leato gets over it and then is in no position to make charges against her (going back to the convenient chain of events for Ren’s con to work) and Giuna never really does anything about it. If anything, she also seems to get over really quickly, and it is never truly a problem for Ren that Giuna found out. If anything, Giuna ends up helping her even more than she did before she learned of her true identity. [SPOILER END] The stakes were set so high for this con but we never really saw any lasting consequences. There was no reason for me to be anxious about Ren’s fate because it never felt like she was in any real danger.

[SPOILER?] My last issue, but the one that made me the most upset: why does the two-faced villain always have to be the bisexual character? One of the authors very kindly answered my question on Goodreads when I brought up this issue, (here is the link to that conversation) and while I can see why they made this decision, in the current climate of the abundance of this "betrayer" arc for bisexual character I simply didn't enjoy it. Again, this is a personal issue and since one of the authors is bi herself I am certainly not trying to call them out or anything like that. :) [SPOILER END]

Unsure?

I would tell anyone thinking of picking this book up to prepare for a steep learning curve. You are thrown into a world with different terms and lore, and since the POV characters are already familiar with them (none of the “remote village boy who is ignorant of the ways of the world” here) it can be very confusing to keep up with the avalanche of names and politics and history. It speaks to the deep world-building which I appreciate, but, at the same time, it was definitely difficult to get through the first half of the book. I don’t see this as a negative because, again, with world-building this intricate, it is necessary for the reader to put some effort into learning the background, and I think the authors did as good a job handling this conundrum as they could.

Lastly, I have a very personal issue that I do not count against the book-I love Giuna, and I really wish we had gotten more time with her to explore her character. She feels very reactive in this novel, only there to serve as plot fodder or build up other character’s arcs and personalities, but I can sense that she could be so much more. I hope to see more of her in future books!

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shellbilee · 4 years

Note

What about Henry and famous gf do an interview together and he accidentally spills something embarrassing from their sex lives? Humor me! 😂😂💓

–

I love this H/C! Thank you for requesting! Hope it’s along the lines of what you wanted. This is my first ever head canon and I realise it’s really long but sue me. Requests for Henry Cavill or Chris Evans head canon’s open!

You and Henry had been dating for several months, having met during the initial casting call for the Witcher last year. You were an up and coming actress who’d thus far only had small roles here and there in TV shows and netflix movies. You’d been over the moon when you’d received the call to play the part of Ana, a powerful mage and Yennifer’s sister in the second season of the Witcher.

You’d arrived at your first table read for the new season and Henry had clocked you as soon as you’d walked in, remembering you from your audition a few months back. He’d been almost completely enamoured by you when he’d watched you audition, in awe of both how gorgeous he thought you were as well as how captivating you’d been with your scene. He’d known instantly that he wanted you to play Ana, feeling an instant chemistry when you’d acted out a scene together for the producers.

You’d beamed when he’d approached you, delighted that he’d even remembered you, unable to help your smile when he’d taken a seat beside you and proceeded to talk, laugh and joke with you through the table read.

A month of script practice, late night dinners on set and shameless flirting, Henry had asked you to dinner for a real date. It had been everything you’d imagined and more, Henry as always the perfect gentleman, ending the night with a goodnight kiss that had made your heart flutter and your insides turn to melted chocolate. The rest they say, is history.

That’s how you’d found yourself sitting beside Henry in a press interview, following the hugely successful release of the Witcher season 2. You grinned stupidly as you waited for the interview to start, glancing over at Henry and smiling affectionately when he’d squeezed your knee reassuringly.

“So Henry, Y/N, it’s great to see you both! How are you feeling about it all? Henry, you’ve obviously now been on two seasons of the show with Geralt, and Y/N you’ve just joined as the ever mysterious Ana!”.

Henry nodded and flashed his effortlessly handsome smile that made your stomach flip, going on to talk about how much he’d enjoyed playing Geralt and working with the rest of the cast and crew. It was more than evident as he spoke just how passionate he was about the show, and just how much he was actually enjoying playing the role. “Yeah the hours can be brutal, and the initial getting into shape even more so, but when you hear the final ‘CUT’ or even see the finished product on screen, it all just becomes so worth it!”.

“And Y/N what about you? This is the first major project that you’ve worked on. How has your experience been with it all?”.

You grinned and nodded. “It’s been incredible honestly. And every one has been so supportive. My first day I was so overwhelmed, there seemed to be a million and one things going on at once and it was very easy to lose your head. Henry especially was great though, he helped me get settled with everything. Talking to a 'seasoned veteran’ like him is certainly helpful”

You flashed him a playful smile and felt your heart swell when you saw him looking at you with that same expression, completely enamoured and in awe just like he had that first day at the audition.

The interviewer nodded, looking down at her list of questions before looking back up at the two of you. She went on to ask Henry a few more questions before turning to you. “So, there are quite a few nude scenes in the show. Henry you are as Y/N said, a 'seasoned veteran’ by now with those, but Y/N how did you feel? Have you ever done anything like this before?”

Henry laughed and you let out a nervous chuckle, glancing over at him with an amused expression. “Yeah…about those” you said as you turned back to the interviewer, “At the time I remember being ridiculously freaked out. I’d never actually done any nude scenes or any love scenes so I felt like a wide-eyed innocent on set compared to everyone else” you explained with a laugh. “I was incredibly nervous and I remembered feeling like all of a sudden it was like every single insecurity I’d ever had about my body was popping up at once”.

“Even though she has absolutely no reason at all to be insecure. I mean look at her” Henry added quickly, causing the interviewer to let out a quick 'aww’ as you’d felt your cheeks flush.

You shook your head dismissively and laughed. “Even so, even though I’d done months of training and clean eating prior to starting shooting - which might I add, was basically torture, even though I feel like I’m currently in the best shape I’ve ever been in, it was yeah, still super daunting for me”.

“You and Henry have several love scenes together in the show. Did you find it got easier to film them as you went on?”

You tilted your head as you considered her question, glancing over at Henry as he too thought about an answer. “Well, I initially and perhaps naively assumed they’d film all of those scenes together to just save time. But it wasn’t like that at all, they spread them out quite a bit actually, giving us time to recover I guess. They give you notice too actually, so you’ve time to prepare. We’d end a day of shooting and they’d be like, just so you know, we’re doing one of those scenes tomorrow.” you answered with a laugh.

“Was there anything you did to make it easier for yourself?”

You laughed out loud this time, shaking your head. “Well look, the first one I felt like I needed to have a few shots of tequila or something just to calm my nerves. And you know, like you’re acting that you’re having sex and it’s as far from the real thing as it can be. You’re supposed to feel completely relaxed, in the throes of passion type thing. In reality, you’ve got thirty people watching you, yelling out 'move this arm here’, 'louder’, 'squeeze his bicep’ that type of thing, so you feel the furthest thing from relaxed”.

The interviewer laughed and turned to Henry. “What about you Henry? Anything you do?”.

Henry chuckled, “Look not really. I can’t say there’s anything specific that I do. Like Y/N said, it’s hard to completely relax when you’ve got thirty pairs of eyes on you and people yelling out telling you what to do and you’re trying to convey this sense of erotic intimacy. I just try and block out everything around me and focus on the person I’m with. Try and make it as natural and comfortable for them as possible - especially when they’ve not done it before” Henry added, gesturing to you with a soft smile.

The interviewer nodded. “You and Y/N are dating though. Did you find this made it easier for you?”

You and Henry both laughed out loud at this one and you felt your face flame with embarrassment. Henry glanced at you and looked back at the interviewer. “Well for me, it was yes and no, but definitely yes more than no. It’s much easier to act something when you’re actually, feeling it, you know? But obviously, you also need to remember that you can’t get too carried away since it’s not just you two in the room. But yes, I’d say that it definitely made things easier. For me anyway”.

You felt your cheeks heat as you listened to Henry, instantly remembering the time that you’d actually had an orgasm on set.It was during your second or third love scene with Henry and you’d only just started having sex with him in your relationship. You’d been so ridiculously turned on from having his skin on yours, his thick muscles holding you as he’d ground his hips against you, it had just happened. The directors had praised you for doing such a good job and when you’d watched the play back you’d been silently mortified. Henry had picked up that it had been real almost instantly, teasing you mercilessly about it ever since.

“What about you Y/N? Is that the same for you?”.

“Uh well yes and no. I was new to the whole thing so having some one I was…for lack of a better word, familiar with, certainly made it easier to a certain degree. But yeah as Henry said, there is also that flip side”.

“We had plenty of….practice runs, both in and out of costume” Henry suddenly interjected, yelping when you elbowed him in the ribs almost instantly.

“Henry!” you squeaked in morbid embarrassment, burying your face in your hands as both he and the interviewer laughed. This was going to be watched by millions of people everywhere. You wanted to die of embarrassment.

“What?” Henry asked innocently, putting his hands up in a surrender gesture as he looked at you and grinned, “It was your idea to bring the wig home from set remember. And the leather pants”.

“Oh my god” you gasped, Henry’s eyes widening as he’d realised what he’d just said, the interviewer chuckling out loud.

“Can I go now? Before the floor swallows me up and I die of shame and embarrassment?” you asked, looking around dramatically and shaking your head at your boyfriend.

Henry only grinned sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders as he listened to you back pedal, trying to explain that it was to try and 'get comfortable with the scenes’.

You paused abruptly half way through a sentence, only shaking your head. “You know what, I’m just going to stop talking. Can we PLEASE change the subject?” you pleaded looking at the interviewer as she laughed and nodded, looking down at her questions.

You glanced at Henry and narrowed your eyes, giving him a look that said 'I’m going to kill you after this". He only grinned back at you with a chesire-cat grin, wiggling his eyes brows and leaning towards you so that his lips were at your ear.

“Oh baby I can’t wait”

—

REQUESTS OPEN FOR H/C’s - Henry Cavill or Chris Evans

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

#Henry Cavill #henry cavill headcan #henry cavill edit #henry cavill x you #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill smut #henry cavill imagine

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number-one-micoverse-fan · 4 years

Text

Everybody Knows That Dom Has Depression Except For Dom

It’s what it says on the tin, fellas.

----------

“And I have a couple of pre-made meals for you too!” Miranda heaves a giant refrigerated bag onto the table, beaming at Dom as she rips open the velcro and starts pulling out stacks of tupperware containers.

“Pre-made…?” Dom ventures, watching with growing wonderment as the stack of containers continues to grow. That bag must be bigger on the inside.

“Yeah, meals that are already cooked up and ready to go,” Miranda explains, finally setting the bag aside and walking around to open the fridge. There’s plenty of room inside for the castle of tupperware, “So you can just pull one out, stick it in the microwave, and you’re all set! It’ll be great for those days when you’re too tired or worked too late to make something.”

Dom blinks, considers, makes a soft noise of agreement. He absently hands containers to Miranda as she fills his refrigerator. He’s trying to figure out why someone would spend this much time on him. The only conclusion he manages to come to is that he definitely needs to find a way to pay Miranda back for her generosity.

He doesn’t deserve this kind of attention.

*******

“I—I’m so sorry about this!” Dom is scurrying around the house in the pre-dawn gloom, lit only by the sodium yellow burn of the streetlights through the window and the dim light over the kitchen sink. He’s flustered and tired, his tie undone around his neck, his shirt half tucked in, and his hair a mess.

“It’s fine,” Jake is hovering in the doorway to Dom’s kitchen, his hands wrapped around a thermos of of coffee. His expression is sympathetic, if a little strained, “Seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

“I know, I know,” Dom says in a stag whisper, struggling to do up his tie and tuck in his shirt at the same time, harried and fretting and continuously glancing towards the stairs to the second floor of the house, “B-but it’s just—it’s so early and—“

“I was already up anyway.”

“—you have Milo—“

“Dan’s still at the house for him.”

“—this meeting was so last minute—“

“Employers can be jerks.”

“—but Cody—“

“Dom.”

“—I didn’t want him to wake up alone—“

“Dom!” Jake snatches at Dominic’s shoulder, stopping the other man in his tracks. Dom’s eyes are wide and worried, heavy with exhaustion and stress. Jake gives his best comforting smile, changing his grip to a gentle pat,

“It’s okay. Honestly. I’m happy to help. You’re a—a friend. And you’d do the same for Milo, yeah?”

Dom swallows, takes a deep breath and smooths the front of his shirt down, “Yeah. Of course. Thanks Jake.”

“Anytime.”

*********

Cody flops onto the couch next to his dad and offers him a bowl of popcorn.

Dom takes it hesitantly, his brow furrowed, “I thought you were going to spend time with Milo…”

“He needs to do homework,” Cody says, settling into his spot. The light from the television reflects off his glasses, “And I wanna hang out with my cool dad!” He beams up at his dad, honest happiness on his face, “What’re we watchin’?”

“O-oh, um…” The hollowed out cavern in Dom’s chest is suddenly flooding with warmth and it makes a wobbly smile spread slowly across his face, “I…I dunno, actually, I just…had the TV on. Was there something you wanted to watch?”

“Mmmm, not really. Maybe we should channel surf until we find something good!”

“Okay…”

Dom flips through some channels rather absently, asking Cody about his day, about homework, about the MiCo channel. Cody happily rambles at him about everything and Dom listens, questions, smiles until his smile can’t get any bigger. He’s not really paying attention to the television, watching Cody talk and gesture animatedly about his latest attempt at catching proof of ghosts. The teen is lit up, literally and figuratively, glowing in the blue-white of the screen, smile flashing in the shadows, hands directing his words, a conductor of his own story.

“—so the audio should be finished by—ooh! Wait go back! Go back!”

The remote almost falls out of Dom’s hands as he fumbles to change the channel again. The sports cast flickers to something softer; a crowd of people milling about or standing in lines in a large indoor area. There are tables and booths set up in the background, but the foreground is dominated by a table at which sit a middle-aged woman and an older man in a tweed jacket. On the table between them is an intricately designed lamp with a garish shade made of bright glass and brass swirls. The man in the tweed jacket is indicating areas of the lamp with a pen and talking about the authenticity of the item in a low rumble of a voice.

“The…Antique Roadshow?” Dom questions, glancing at Cody.

“Yeah! It’s kind of cool to see what historical stuff shows up and to learn the history of it,” Cody says, “Also, sometimes, me and Milo would play this game where we would guess if something is haunted or not and then try and decide what kinda ghost is doing the haunting. He gets bored of it real quick though.”

“Hm…” Dom looks back at the—frankly hideous—lamp on the screen, “Well, uh, I don’t know a lot about ghosts but…if there was a ghost haunting that thing, it would probably be someone really annoying with no taste.”

Cody laughs, “I think I would feel bad for anyone who was stuck haunting that! It’s ugly!”

Dom finds himself chuckling along with him, “A, uh, I think the word is…ostentatious?”

They both laugh.

They’re still laughing an hour or so later, when the popcorn bowls are empty and it’s gone dark outside. Cody has tucked himself against Dom’s side, Dom’s arm around his shoulders, holding him close.

The cold, bitter hole that had been chewing him up on the inside is long gone. It’s nothing but tenderness and warmth and little rays of sunshine. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Dom knows it will come back. But it’s gone, for now. And he’s warm.

He��s happy.

*********

“Ah! Here! Lemme help with that!” A burly arm sweeps out of nowhere and scoops some of grocery bags from Dom’s struggling grip. Most of the grocery bags, really.

“Thanks…” Dom breathes, sending an uneven smile up at Dan, “Sorry about the trouble…”

“Not trouble at all!” Dan’s own smile is wide and bright and honest, his stride confident and comfortable as he follows Dom to the front door, “I was just coming home and you looked like you needed some help. And it never hurts to help.”

Dom only hums in response, holding open the door to let Dan sidle past and set the groceries down in the kitchen. The house is quiet—Cody’s out, probably getting into trouble with Milo—and Dom feels selfish for enjoying the peace of it. He’s exhausted, drained, his entire body feels heavy and his thoughts are muddy. He sinks into a chair at the kitchen table and rubs his eyes. He still has to put away the groceries and make some dinner and he should probably shower and maybe he should fold those clean clothes he hasn’t touched in a week and when’s the last time he vacuumed and—

“Long day?” Dan’s voice cuts through the deluge of thoughts threatening to drown him. Dom sighs into his hands, can only nod in response because even talking feels like it would take too much energy, “Sorry you had a rough day, buddy. But, hey, lookit that! You still went and bought groceries and you’re home now! So you can relax, just a for a bit. Take a breather, Dom, you look like you need it.”

His fingers tangle in his hair as Dom raises his head to explain that while he appreciates Dan’s advice, he really doesn’t have time to sit about and daydream. But he finds himself struck a bit speechless because Dan has put all the groceries away while Dom’s just been sitting on his ass feeling sorry for himself. It doesn’t shock him that Dan knows where everything goes, just that Dan would even take the time to do it. Dom could have done it, he’d just needed a minute.

Dan’s still smiling as he folds up the paper bags and stows them in the pantry, “Oh yeah, almost forgot—would you and Cody like to join us for dinner tonight?” He straightens up, hands on his hips, a life preserver to a man floundering in a sea of responsibilities and fears, “I’m making lasagna and I always make way too much of it. And it’s been a while since we’ve had dinner together.”

The relief that makes the burdens of the day slough off his shoulders makes Dom feel like he could float away. It buzzes in his chest, louder than the nasty little voice that says he’s lazy or that he’s taking advantage of Dan’s good nature.

“Thanks, I…I’d like that…”

********

Miranda hands him a small stack of thick, hardcover books. They’re a little banged up and well loved, the spines soft and their corner dented, but they’re well cared for all the same. Dom cycles through them—there’s four of them and all of them are about woodworking of various degrees. He glances up at her, half from confusion and half from wondering if she’s trying to say something.

She’s twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, something he recognizes as a bit of a nervous habit, a twinge of uncertainty, “A coworker had a bunch of old books they were getting rid of. Brought in a couple of milk crates worth of them. I know you like working with your hands and—and building stuff, that kind of thing. So I thought I’d…snag them for you.” Her face is a delicate shade of pink and she keeps glancing at him from under her lashes.

Dom looks from her to the books. He opens the top book to a random page, skims a description of re-scaling an existing design to make a miniature version of it. He might have gotten caught up in it completely if he hadn’t been hyper away of Miranda standing in front of him.

He lets the book fall closed and smiles at her. That pleasantly warm feeling is curling in his chest again, pooling wonderfully in his stomach until his cheeks flush,

“These are—they’re awesome. Wonderful, Mira. I love them. Thank you.”

Miranda’s smiles explodes and she throws her arms around him. Her lips touch the corner of his mouth and Dom feels soda bubbles burst inside him like fireworks.

*********

Something a little like frustrated panic clutches tightly at Dom’s throat when he hears a knock on the front door.

It still feels like its on the verge of choking him when he opens the door and finds Milo standing there with a folder clutched to his chest.

“Hi, um, I know Cody’s sick but I brought his homework from school so if he feels kinda better sometime he won’t get behind in class.” Milo is unusually subdued, no doubt missing his usual partner in crime and as equally worried about Cody as Dom is.

“Thank you, Milo, that’s very kind of you.” Dom runs a hand through his hair, realizes it’s shaking and quickly takes the offered folder from Milo before the teenager can notice.

Milo rocks back on his heels, glances from Dom to the house behind him and then back to Dom, “Um. Dom—um—Mister Bridges—uh, I know—um. That is, uh…” He fidgets, fumbles, wrinkling his nose as he searches for the right words and Dom is more than prepared to tell him that no, he cannot see Cody, Jake would hang him for it if he did, when Milo blurts out,

“Do you need help with anything?”

“You ca—I…I’m sorry, what?”

Milo’s ears are red, “I, uh, d-do you need any help? With anything?” He’s tugging absently on his hoodie strings, self conscious and still rocking back and forth on his heels, “You’re probably—well I know—um. Shoot. Y-you’re taking care of Cody so I wanted…to ask…if there’s was anything…you needed help with…”

Dom hesitates, wants to tell Milo to just go home because he’s a teenager and he’s been in school all day and he deserves to enjoy his youth. But Milo’s expression is so earnest and he certainly looks like he’s been worrying and fretting all day. Dom wants to think that maybe Jake or Dan put him up to this but Milo’s still got his school bag slung over his shoulder which means he hasn’t even been home himself yet. Dom can’t fight the soft and gentle smile that appears on his face,

“Go ask your dads if they’re okay with it first. Then maybe you can help me tackle these dishes, okay?”

Milo brightens instantly, “Okay!” And he scurries off to burst into the house next door.

To be honest, Dom doesn’t expect him to come back. But he does, full of energy and ready to go. He’s a bit infectious and soon Dom finds himself caught up in the whirlwind that is Milo Junior. Dom spends his time flitting up and down the stairs between Cody’s room and the kitchen and by the time he’s gotten some food in his son and coaxed him to go back to sleep, Milo has washed and put away all the dirty dishes in the sink.

“Shhh! Don’t tell Jake I know how to load a dishwasher!” Milo hisses in a loud whisper as he shoves Dom’s dishwasher closed with a clunk, “I’ve been doing it bad on purpose so he stopped asking me!”

Dom laughs. It feels bright and hot and brilliant inside him, spilling liquid honey up his throat,

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

********

Miranda’s humming something, her fingers carding lazily through Dom’s hair. Her other hand is draped over his chest, their fingers woven together, puzzle pieces that click together perfectly. Dom’s free hand is resting at the base of his throat, his thumb idly rubbing against the edge of the top button on his shirt. He has his head on her lap, his eyes heavy and lidded and unfocused. In this moment, he simply is. He is safe and comfortable and the warm gentleness of the whole thing has him floating on a delicate cloud of candy floss and downy feathers, lethargically sinking into a hot bath of love, attention, and affection.

More out of habit than anything else, Dom glances at the clock on the television stand. It takes his tired brain a moment to process the time, but once it does, he jolts into alertness,

“Dinner! We—we gotta get ready if we’re gonna make it!”

He goes to get up, already dreading the notion of being out in public where people can see him and judge him and make their assumptions, where he has to communicate with those who don’t understand him, where out there will never be as safe as in here. It makes his stomach clench and his appetite sink rapidly into a tar pit of nausea.

“Wait.”

Miranda presses a hand to his shoulder, steers him to lay back down in her lap. Dom holds her wrist, brow furrowed,

“Mira, our dinner…”

“Let’s just…stay in.” She says in a low voice, leaning over him. Her golden hair frames her face in the lamplight, curtaining them both off from the rest of the world, “We can order some pizza or something, I don’t mind. I’d like it to just…be you and me.” She leans closer and the heat rises in Dom’s face, “Just the two of us,” She’s a breath away and Dom can smell peppermint and lilacs and just a hint of that clean, slightly chemical scent that follows a doctor everywhere,

“Together.”

If they kiss, no one would be able to see it past the golden cascades of Miranda’s hair.

Her hand stays in Dom’s and he forgets about how relieved he is that they’re staying home because he’s too busy falling in love with her all over again.

********

Cody sets a glass of water down in front of Dom, smiles when Dom looks up at him with a question on his face.

“I was getting one for myself so I got one for you too,” Cody says with a shrug, “You looked thirsty!”

It’s not until Dom takes a drink that he realizes how parched he is.

It also strikes him that he hasn’t gotten up from the table in several hours. His joints pop and groan in protest when he stands up.

The numbers and words on the bills in front of him were blurring into obscurity anyway. He’s going to check on what Cody’s up to instead.

The bills are long forgotten as he spends the rest of the day watching his son play video games, simply enjoying the enthusiastic company.

********

Dom pushes his safety glasses to the top of his head and gives up starring at the miter saw with a heavy sigh. He’s not going to be getting anything done today.

He wanders to the front of his garage and sinks down onto the pile of lumber by the open door facing the street, peeling his work gloves off his hands and dropping them onto the wood beside him. He feels heavy, like something’s pushing down on him, crushing him slowly into the dirt. All the plans he’d made for the day feel pointless and empty.

He feels pointless and empty.

And stupid.

He’s staring an infinite black hole into the pavement between his peeling sneakers when someone’s approaching footsteps make him raise his head. It feels like lifting a thousand ton weight.

Jake is standing a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his slim jeans, his button up open to show a faded band t-shirt underneath. His expression is carefully blank but he’s chewing on his bottom lip in a manner that suggests there’s a thousand thoughts going through his head.

“Hi,” Says Dom and his voice sounds flat and lifeless and it makes his throat close up.

“Hey,” Jake nods, shifts his weight awkwardly, “Mind if I, uh, take a seat?”

Dom pats the lumber next to him and Jake eases down, glancing at the wood as if checking for splinters. His hands leave his pockets and his fingers get tangled in each other, twisting in and out and over as he fidgets. Dom can see the movement out of the corner of his eye but it’s much easier to keep staring at the sun bleached pavement.

“Thought I would have heard your power tools going by now.” Jake says in a somewhat forced conversational manner. Dom shrugs, makes a noncommittal noise. Jake sighs, takes a deep breath, lets it out again, finally says in a stern voice,

“Dom. You have depression.”

That startles him out of his stupor enough to turn and look at Jake, “What? What, no. I don’t.”

Jake frowns, not in disappointment, in something like solidarity and determination, “Yes, you do.”

“No, I—“

“Dominic, I literally have depression. I know what I’m talking about.” When Dom opens his mouth to protest further, Jake cuts him off,

“You feel tired almost all the time, even when you’ve gotten enough sleep. Sometimes you don’t sleep at all and sometimes that’s all you do. You either eat too much or you don’t eat at all or you eat just enough to keep going, even when you feel nauseous at the idea of food. You get frustrated with yourself because you can’t do what you want, you feel like you never have enough energy, and you blame everything on yourself.” Jake’s talking faster now, words spilling out, a floodgate of awful truths and buried thoughts cascading out in an awful tidal wave that’s black as pitch, “You feel like everything is your fault and nothing will ever be okay ever again and you’re going to be stuck in this hellish tar pit for the rest of your life! Because there isn’t anything better! There’s nothing outside the tar pit and you’d rather let yourself sink to the bottom and drown there than try to struggle anymore because you’re tried and you’re hurt and no one can ever understand how hard it is to live like this! And even though you hate yourself for giving up you just can’t do it anymore!”

The words break off into a ringing silence.

Jake is trembling slightly, shivering in the summer heat, because it feels so damn cold all of a sudden. His eyes are bright and hard but there are tears clinging to the corners and his jaw in clenched and his gaze pins Dom to the spot with accusation and something like desperation. And maybe not a hint of fear. Dom wants to look away, to shake his head, to tell Jake he’s got it wrong. But, god, he can’t.

Not when Jake’s dropped his guard like this.

To his eternal shame, Dom’s eyes get hot and his lower lip trembles. He drops his face into his hands with a muffled curse, trying to push it all back down, trying to bury it all back where it belongs deep inside him where it can’t bother anyone else.

“Dom, please…” Jake’s hand is on his shoulder, squeezing, grounding, reassuring, “I’ve…I didn’t want to say anything, I really didn’t because—I know it’s such a hard thing—personal. And I wouldn’t have said—I would have left this alone if I thought you were…” He trails off, steels himself, takes a shaky breath,

“Cody came to talk to me.”

Dom looks up at him, can’t decide if he’s horrified or in despair or hurt. Jake looks apologetic, his expression crinkling up and his hands shaking, holding himself steady despite the lingering threads of fear tugging at him to run from the situation.

“Cody?” Dom croaks, hates that he sounds so damaged, hates that it’s another thing to prove Jake right, “Is he—“

“Cody’s fine, this was a while ago.” Jake’s gaze darts away, comes back, drops to his knees, looks up at Dom again, “I just…wasn’t sure how to approach you about it.” A weird, slightly manic and cynical chuckle rattles out of his lungs, “I guess now’s a good a time as any.” Seriousness falls back into place, a door clicking shut but the key still in the lock,

“He approached me because…because he knows you’re hurting. Dom, he came up to me and he was trying hard not to cry and he told me “I think my dad’s sick and he won’t get help”.”

Dom thinks his heart shatters into a million pieces when he hears those words. His shaking hands fist into the front of his paint-stained shirt and he makes a choked off noise that desperately wants to be a sob, but Dom refuses to let it be.

Jake expression is desperate, begging, pleading for Dom to understand, “He knows something’s wrong and he wants to know how to help you. I know this probably isn’t something you want to hear, that it’s—it’s such an impossible thing to try and process but, Dom, he’s just a kid and he knows that you’re not doing okay.”

And Dominic Bridges finally breaks.

Right there, on a pile of lumber in his garage, talking to his neighbor, he puts his face in his hands and he cries.

Because he knows Jake is right.

And it kills him.

********

“It’s okay, I’ll be right out here for you,” Miranda says quietly, squeezing Dominic’s hand in her own, “I’m really proud of you for doing this.”

Dom is shaking in his seat, his leg bouncing insistently, cold sweat sticking to the back of his shirt. His mouth is dry and every time he swallows that just seems to make it worse. He feels like his voice is stuck somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes and he wants so badly to trample it as he runs out the building.

But there’s a fee for canceling appointments after 24 hours and Miranda has taken the time to come with him and she’d be so disappointed and—

—and Dom actually wants to try.

So when the therapist steps into the waiting room and calls his name, he takes a deep breath and stands up. His legs are jelly and he thinks he might pass out and some part of him is screaming that this is a waste of his time and money and he shouldn’t be here. But when he glances over his shoulder at Miranda before he walks through the door, she gives him a huge smile and makes a little heart with her hands.

And Dom thinks that maybe, just this one time, he can try and do something for himself for a change.

#-dabs in clinical depression-#whoa sage wrote something that's not angst and horror! surprise!#dominic #fan fiction

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kyndaris · 3 years

Text

A Vikingr Saga for the Ages

Ever since the first game in the franchise, I was enraptured by the idea of stalking my prey on the rooftops of Renaissance Italy and then leaping down - slaying them with a flourish. I didn’t know it yet but the marriage between history and stealthy parkour had me hooked from the very first trailer for Assassin’s Creed. When the series pivoted towards mythology and set further in history than ever before, I eagerly followed. From Ptolemaic Egypt to Ancient Greece. It should come as no surprise that I devoured, then, that I devoured as much of the world that I could in the latest entry: Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla. And after clocking in just under 150 hours, there is much for me to unpack in Ubisoft’s latest entry into the Assassin’s Creed franchise. That, and a fierce desire to finally start watching Vikings.

When I initially booted up Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla (AC:V), I will admit that I was a little disappointed with the control scheme. Once again, Ubisoft had made it a confusing mess with trigger buttons instead of face buttons used to attack. Since I had just come from Spider-Man: Miles Morales, it took a good long while for me to adjust. Several hours later, after fumbling through my first battle with a lost drengr (I actually dumbed down the difficulty a litte), I finally managed to find my footing and was on my way to England to scrape out a place for the Raven Clan.

As for stealth...well, the less said about it the better. I never found it effective. It was much easier to smash my way through, axe in hand (or greatsword) and lay waste to their paltry resistance with a mixture of heavy attacks and parrying. I also, hardly used the bow (one of my favourite weapons to being stealthy in Origins and Odyssey).

The story in AC: V is a little messy. Most of it is done through a separate arcs for each territory Eivor ventures through: from East Anglia to Snotinghamscire, with little to link it all together except the main character. Were it not for the very loose story threat surrounding Sigurd and the conquering of Mercia to establish a firm foothold in this new land of England, many of the storylines could be regarded as standalone adventures in Eivor’s epic saga of conquest.

That doesn’t, of course, mean it’s bad. Merely disjointed. Particularly when I went from Jorvik and its Yule Tide celebrations to Glowecestrescire that was right in the midst of Samhain right after each other. Did I go back in time? Or did almost an entire year fly past Eivor with none the wiser?

Still, even though they were mostly standalone storylines, I still very much liked all the characters I met along the way. My favourites were the earnest Hunwald, noble Ceolbert (his death was almost as bad as all the horse deaths I’ve encountered in video games) and fun-loving Twydwr (particularly when he and Eivor were drunk, and messing with the local chickens) On the Norse side, I very much enjoyed the banter between Eivor and her childhood friend Vili. But the one that I admisted most was Soma. She was the jarlskona of Grantebridgescire - the first place I explored after landing in England. And one, I hoped I could romance to some degree. Alas, my hopes were dashed on that end.

What I did find a little intriguing were how Sigurd and Eivor were sages for the Isus: Odin and Tyr. And in their little Raven Clan, revealed much later, was also Freyr. It seemed strange that so many of the reincarnated Isu were all incredibly close at hand.

In this title, Ubisoft was able to focus again a little more on their complex lore that was seeded throughout the first few games. And while some questions were answered, it still left plenty of mysteries of where the games go from here - particularly from a modern-day standpoint. Though I am reluctant to see the franchise go, it does feel like Ubisoft is finally coming to a close on the grand story that they are trying to tell. What the end result turns out to be is still to be determined, but more emphasis needs to be focused on the central conflict.

For a game that still has Assassin’s Creed in the title, Eivor’s connection with the order and their enemies seemed very tangential. While I killed many Order of the Ancient members, there was no sense of personal investiture, like, say with Ezio’s quest. The only ones that I felt motivated to put an end to were Fulke and Kjotve the Cruel. Unfortunately, all the build-up in the first scenes with Eivor were quickly resolves within the first two to three hours of the game, and Fulke’s arc was all but over in the half-way point.

I suppose the main reason for my discontent with the narrative of AC: V is the fact that there is no Big Bad for Eivor and her Raven Clan. Yes, Aelfred of Wessex is a ‘villain’ that hinders our protagonist, but he never felt like an oppressive threat.

Basim’s reveal, somewhat late in the game, was also a little underwhelming. Yes, he did look an awful lot like Loki, but how did he manage to get to Norway? He hadn’t accompanied Sigurd and Eivor. Did he travel with a third party? How did he know that Sigurd and Eivor would be in the ruins of an Isu temple? So many questions, so little time.

Then there was the whole ‘Heir of Memories’ and the fact that Layla seemed so worn. After finishing Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, my last impression of her was receiving the Staff of Hermes Trismegistus from Kassandra and being hopeful for the future. Fast forward to AC: V and Layla is tired. The world is on the edge of destruction once again and she’s now paired up with married couple: Rebecca Crane and Shaun Hastings (the two last appearing undercover in Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag).

On a side note, why are their adventures all done in the comics or some other media? AND WHY DO I NOT HAVE ACCESS TO ANY OF THIS?

And because I didn’t play the expansions for Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey, I knew too little regarding the modern-day struggles with Layla. In fact, I basically resorted to the Assassin’s Creed wiki to bring me up to date. Honestly, DLC should never be story-related. Or, if it is, should be more tangential rather than major. It’s a terrible practice that quite a few publishers do, and which leaves players such as myself playing catch-up.

The only one that landed with any oomph (at least for me) were the Asgard and Jotunheim arcs. These were connected and told the story of Havi as he struggled to find a way to avert his fate. The final battle also proved challenging and climactic. A far cry from the ‘endings’ that the main story provided. In all honesty, I probably should have left that to last while completing everything else first. But the temptation was too great and I was vastly overlevelled.

I also enjoyed the play on the Norse myths. The only downside with the Builder was that there was no horse to help him. And so, there was no sexy mare Loki to tempt away the Builder’s horse - giving birth to Sleipnir. The other stuff, though, was clever. And I liked the references made to other myths, such as fighting against ‘old age’ and Thrym’s disastrous marriage to ‘Thor dressed as Freyr.’

What was also a little odd, at least for me, was that there was no definitive part where the credits rolled. Much like in Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey and Assassin’s Creedy: Origins. Personally, I hate it. Credits give closure and tell gamers that the narrative that they were pursuing has come to an end. It lets me reflect on everything that I experienced and is an indication that I can finally set the controller down.

Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla also came with its fair share of bugs and glitches. Many, after reading up on them, made me frightened to continue. One, in particular, took me a while to figure out an alternative to: entering Lunden. I didn’t help that the more I read, the more I worried about encountering a game-breaking bug. Thankfully, most were simply treasure hoards not loading, late texture pop-ins that were a little frightening, and the drunk Eivor every time I loaded up the game.

Despite its many faults, I still very much enjoyed my time roaming around England, Vinland and Norway as I worked to build up Eivor’s reputation and to ensure her name would be sung for ages to come. Like a true Vikingr, I played copious amounts of orlog, drank mead and tore up the battlefield to create a home for my people.

Even better, at Gunnar’s wedding, I managed to finally woo Randvi (who I abstained from bedding down with earlier on in the game)! That, perhaps, elevated the game for me and I can be happy knowing that all my hard work paid off.

(As an additional aside, I also love how many of the side quests or ‘mysteries’ in AC: Valhalla made references to popular culture. From Winnie the Pooh to Alice in Wonderland. AND ROBIN HOOD! THE NPC CALLED LITTLE JOHN HAD ME GUFFAWING!)

#Assassin's Creed: Valhalla #AC:V #Assassin's Creed #video games #Eivor x Randvi

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daleisgreat · 3 years

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Shawn Michaels: The Showstopper Unreleased

WWE has release a few Shawn Michaels DVDs over the years, but continuing on the theme of my last few wrestling-centered entries, WWE Home Video stuck with their “unreleased” brand of DVDs in 2018 with the three-disc release of Shawn Michaels: The Showstopper Unreleased (intro - I could not locate a trailer for this anywhere!). In that clip Shawn quips that the producers deserve an award for finding previously unreleased matches. I believe the criteria for this release is still similar to previous “Unreleased” collections where they may have aired on television (and thus likely in the WWE Network archives) or long discontinued VHS tapes, but this DVD will mark the first time the matches are available on disc. Also included is a new interview with Michaels that they broke up in several parts and sporadically inserted throughout the collection. The first disc is something special as it essentially is a “Best of Rockers” DVD. The first two matches are from Shawn’s rookie year in 1985 for Mid-South in quick enhancement matches for Hector & Chavo Guerrero and Jake “The Snake” Roberts. Matches serve their purpose, but it is nonetheless fascinating to see how Shawn had that already apparent potential in him way back in 1985. The remaining 11 matches on the first disc are all Rockers matches, with the first three tag matches being from their Midnight Rockers AWA days with two bouts against Doug Summers & Buddy Rose and one more with Brian Knobbs & Dennis “I’m not booked” Stamp. The two Summers & Rose matches are show-stealers that had exhilarating beginning/middle/end structures, and was fun to watch the 1980s crowd go nuts for.

The first disc is almost all AWA & WWF Rockers matches!! For the eight WWF Rockers matches, they consist of almost an all-star lineup of a golden age for WWF tag teams where they square off against the likes of Demolition, Brain Busters, Hart Foundation, Natural Disasters and Legion of Doom. The sad thing about The Rockers back then is that as charismatic and agile as they were back then, they mostly made other teams look good in their WWF run and that is the case here as they lose six of those eight WWF matches. Even worse is the two matches they win is a DQ win against the Rougeaus after Jimmy Hart’s megaphone is used, and a countout win against the Orient Express. That said, a lot of the other matches are pretty damn good, with high honors going to the Brain Busters bout, two Demolition matches and surprisingly working in a lot of good stuff against Legion of Doom. Worth pointing out is another good match against the Hart Foundation where it seems noticeable the teams missed their cue to go home because the match starts to feel there is no end in sight when out of nowhere during an abdominal stretch a bunch of wrestlers run in and an awkward impromptu brawl ensues and the match is declared a draw.

Disc two has 12 matches from Shawn’s first singles WWF run from 1992-1998. Some highlights from this are an unsurprising technical showcase with Mr. Perfect, oddly having a positive dynamic with Bret Hart to team up against the Blu Brothers in 1995 and predictable-yet-high quality formula matches during his first WWF Title run against 1-2-3 Kid and Steve Austin. Disc two has a disappointing triple tag elimination match with Shawn, Diesel and Undertaker against Psycho Sid, Tatanka and Kama filled with lots of stalling and headscratching booking for the eliminations. There is also a questionable match against Vader a month after their controversial-yet-excellent Summerslam match, where in this match Shawn takes 95% of the offense and quickly squashes Vader in three minutes. There is also a fascinating bout against Yokozuna from the summer of 1996 in Kuwait, when Yoko is nearing the end of his WWF run due to him putting on excess weight, and the match kind of expectedly plods along, until something must have clicked for Shawn to motivate Yoko into a pretty watchable match in the back half, and the two show respect afterwards which was awesome to see….until Yoko suddenly darts off to the back like he really has to go to the bathroom. The third disc consists of 10 matches from Shawn’s return run to WWE from 2002-2010. All the matches here are from RAW, so that means they follow the formula that still holds true for WWE TV main events today where it is either a cobbled together tag match, or a really good one-on-one match with interference or a hokey finish. There are a couple exceptions with worthwhile clean matches against Ric Flair during a Japan 2005 tour and against Christian in 2004 when he was building momentum with Tyson Tomko by his side. HBK’s matches against Rob Van Dam, Kurt Angle and Chris Jericho are the highlights on disc three, but all three contests have varying degrees of interference to effect the finishes, and in some cases it actually benefits the match as is the case with Angle with the story they were telling. I was delighted to see a post-RAW dark match included with Shawn teaming with Batista against Triple H and Edge. WWE is notorious for usually doing a fun untelevised promo or bonus match for the fans after the cameras go off the air with some quirky moments that would never fly in a televised match. That is the case here with Triple H doing lots of exaggerated selling and fun jawing with the crowd that absolutely ate it all up for a fun time.

Shawn didn't disappoint in his 21st century run, with matches included here that don't disappoint against Ric Flair and Kurt Angle. A couple of promos are uncovered like Shawn doing an open Q&A with the fans when Sensational Sherri was managing Michaels early in his singles run. Another amusing bonus promo is Shawn and Diesel doing a Times Square workout session to hype up their upcoming WrestleMania 11 match with the one-and-only Todd Pentigill hosting. The several interview clips inserted throughout the DVDs has Shawn hitting on certain parts on where he was at that stage in his career and reflecting on the infamous Barber Shop break-up with Marty, his 2002 return, rebooting a less edgy, more goofball version of DX in 2006 and retiring in 2010 (this was filmed before his ill-fated Saudi Arabia return match). From these series of introspections, it was fascinating to hear Shawn think back on why he was not all-in for teaming with Jose Lathario in his WWE Title run, and hearing him settling on being a family man in retirement and turning down multiple

WrestleMania return matches. There are also a few sets of interviews with NXT talent commenting on how lucky they are to have Shawn as a teacher at the WWE Performance Center. Shawn comments a few times here too on being proud of passing on his knowledge, and it is obvious he is genuine on his passion for his new role building talent in NXT. WWE has once again amassed another recommended collection of un-vaulted matches. I am digging this format following the Piper and Macho Man sets where they break up the action every few matches with a set of interviews. Wort mentioning is about a quarter of the 35 matches here have no commentary because they were either dark matches, or from arena shows WWE use to film at regionally in the 80s and 90s and never recorded commentary for and/or lost the rights for the commentary. While there are some skippable matches, the good-to-bad ratio is largely in the positive here, and the not-so-good bouts usually at least have an entertaining backstory or era they emanate from. This all adds up for Shawn Michaels: The Showstopper Unreleased being another must-have installment of the Unreleased branding. Past Wrestling Blogs Best of WCW Clash of Champions Best of WCW Monday Nitro Volume 2 Best of WCW Monday Nitro Volume 3 Biggest Knuckleheads Bobby The Brain Heenan Daniel Bryan: Just Say Yes Yes Yes DDP: Positively Living Dusty Rhodes WWE Network Specials ECW Unreleased: Vol 1 ECW Unreleased: Vol 2 ECW Unreleased: Vol 3 Eric Bishoff: Wrestlings Most Controversial Figure Fight Owens Fight: The Kevin Owens Story For All Mankind Getting Rowdy: The Unreleased Matches of Roddy Piper Goldberg: The Ultimate Collection Hulk Hogans Unreleased Collectors Series Impact Wresting Presents: Best of Hulk Hogan Its Good to Be the King: The Jerry Lawler Story The Kliq Rules Ladies and Gentlemen My Name is Paul Heyman Legends of Mid South Wrestling Macho Man: The Randy Savage Story Memphis Heat NXT: From Secret to Sensation NXT Greatest Matches Vol 1 OMG Vol 2: Top 50 Incidents in WCW History OMG Vol 3: Top 50 Incidents in ECW History Owen: Hart of Gold Randy Savage Unreleased: The Unseen Matches of the Macho Man RoH Supercard of Honor 2010-Present ScoobyDoo Wrestlemania Mystery Scott Hall: Living on a Razors Edge Shawn Michaels: My Journey Sting: Into the Light Straight Outta Dudley-ville: Legacy of the Dudley Boyz Straight to the Top: Money in the Bank Anthology Superstar Collection: Zach Ryder Then Now Forever – The Evolution of WWEs Womens Division TLC 2017 TNA Lockdown 2005-2016 Top 50 Superstars of All Time Tough Enough: Million Dollar Season True Giants Ultimate Fan Pack: Roman Reigns Ultimate Warrior: Always Believe War Games: WCWs Most Notorious Matches Warrior Week on WWE Network Wrestlemania III: Championship Edition Wrestlemania 28-Present The Wrestler (2008) Wrestling Road Diaries Too Wrestling Road Diaries Three: Funny Equals Money Wrestlings Greatest Factions WWE Network Original Specials First Half 2015 WWE Network Original Specials Second Half 2015 WWE Network Original Specials First Half 2016 WWE Network Original Specials Second Half 2016 WWE Network Original Specials First Half 2017

#Wrestling #Shawn Michaels #the rockers #wwf #WWE #awa #marty jannetty #ric flair #kurt angle #Christian #Bret Hart #diesel #psycho sid #dennis stamp #jake roberts #mr. perfect

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