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deakyjoe · 1 month

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I Got Chills, They’re Multiplying

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader (fem, she/her)

Category: sick fic, fluff

Summary: Despite being stubbornly independent, Bob won’t let you push him away in your time of need.

Warnings: sickness, sexual references and innuendos, implication of Bob having a “lieutenant” kink, just fluff mostly, reader is used to pushing people away, they’re like hella in love but won’t say it

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: Wrote this exhausted because I haven’t been able to sleep these past few days due to being sick. Enjoy!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

You stared at the last text message Bob had sent you.

Okay, get well soon!

It was unclear whether the constant pounding in your head was what was making you feel sick or if it was how quickly the text conversation had ended with your boyfriend. Well, kind-of boyfriend. You'd been on a lot of dates over the last few months but hadn't actually made it official yet.

It's not like you expected anything from him, you were used to men being pretty dismissive, and his message was actually very friendly, especially with the exclamation point at the end, but you couldn't help but feel a pang of something at him just ending the conversation like that.

To be fair to him, you had told him that you were fine, just had a cold or a minor case of the flu. It was a little worse than that but you weren't used to telling people your problems, used to keeping them bottled up inside. So you guess you couldn't really blame him for taking your word for granted and assuming that, as you'd said, you were fine. And maybe he was busy.

You sighed and tossed your phone aside, burying your face in one of the many blankets you'd dragged to your couch in an attempt to feel slightly warmer. You were being ridiculous, this is exactly what you wanted. And what you expected. At least you had peace and quiet for the day whilst you recovered.

Drifting off into a dreamless sleep came naturally with the state your body was in and you were thankful for it, hoping that the headache that had been plaguing you since you first woke up that morning would be gone by the time you woke up again.

It wasn't.

In fact, it only got worse when the rhythmic throbbing in your skull matched the timing of the person knocking on your front door. You groaned quietly to yourself and dragged yourself up off the couch, wrapping a blanket tight around your shoulders and padding to the door with only one sock on. You figured the other one must have fallen off during your nap.

You didn't even bother looking through the peephole to see who was bothering you, hoping to just snap at them to go away once you'd managed to unlock the door.

That plan was foiled when you were greeted by your favourite pair of baby blue eyes behind wire framed glasses. You immediately softened at the sight of your kind-of boyfriend.

"Oh, hi." You croaked, immediately feeling sheepish that you were about to shout at him without even thinking about the consequences.

Bob frowned at you, giving you a quick once over. "You're sick."

"Yes, I told you that." You chuckled, coughing into your elbow as soon as the words had left your mouth.

"Sicker than you let on." He clarified.

You shrugged, not knowing what to say. He was right. But that's just who you were. Keep everything to yourself, was your motto.

So you just asked him a question instead. "Why are you here? I said I was fine."

Bob smiled at that. "I think your exact words were 'yeah, I'm good' which I knew was a lie."

"Oh." That surprised you.

He went further. "You only say you're good when something's wrong."

God, were you that easy to read?

"So, I thought I'd come check on you." He stiffened suddenly. "I hope that's okay."

You didn't think it possible but somehow you softened more under his worried gaze. "Yes, that's very okay. Do you want to come in?"

You opened the door wider for him, stepping aside and grinning when he hurried in and kicked off his shoes. It was then that you noticed what he was wearing. Blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He looked good. Very good. If you didn't feel like you were dying then you'd definitely be jumping his bones right about now. You still kind of wanted to. You pushed the thought aside.

"Didn't realise how hot it is outside. I'm freezing." You mumbled, shuffling back towards your couch. "Do you want a drink?"

"No, thanks. But if I did then I'd make it myself. I'm here to look after you." He placed a hand on the small of your back to guide you in the direction of the blanket pile you'd previously made, smirking at the sight of it.

You shifted away from him. "You don't have to touch me. I'm sick and disgusting right now."

He huffed. "You're beautiful and lovely like always."

"Liar." You grumbled, pushing back into his hand nevertheless.

"No, just smitten and honest." He confessed, sitting you down on the couch and wrapping you in the millions of blankets. "Have you eaten today?"

You shook your head no. You didn't feel up to cooking.

"Want me to make you something?" He stood in front of you with his hands on his hips.

"No." You sighed. "It's okay."

"Yeah, I'm making you something."

You huffed. "You really don't have to-"

"I want to." He cut you off. “I don’t want you to think you can’t ask me for things. You know I care about you, right?”

You nodded slowly. “I know, I’m just used to doing stuff for myself.”

Bob smiled gently. “I know that. But now you don’t have to. I’m here for you. To help. Or whatever you need.”

You were about to respond with a fond thank you when you were interrupted by his cellphone chiming in his pocket.

“Sorry.” He grunted, pulling the device from the front of his jeans.

“It’s okay.” You coughed, curious as to why he was suddenly frowning. “Who is it?”

"Had plans with the team tonight. Was supposed to meet them for drinks." He mumbled, typing away on his phone.

"Oh, god." You rubbed your hand across your face. "Please go. You don't have to stay here. Don't let them down."

Bob suddenly looked up from his screen and gave you an amused smile. "I'm sure they'll understand that I'm looking after my sick girlfriend."

He said it so casually, as if he’d been doing it regularly. Your heart rate picked up at that. Girlfriend. His girlfriend. Bob Floyd's girlfriend. You could've squealed with glee. You stayed silent and settled for a pleased grin.

He sighed to himself once he’d replied to his team and placed his cell down on your coffee table. “Where were we? Oh! Right. Me cooking for you.”

“Like I said, you don’t need to do that.” You pulled your feet up onto the couch after a particularly violent shiver ran through you. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Bob reached out and pressed the back of his hand onto your forehead. “You have a fever. And you’re still shaking like we’re in Antarctica.”

“It’s just my immune system fighting back.” You hummed, leaning into his touch as he moved his hand down to cup your cheek.

“Exactly. And I’m sure some warm soup will just help your immune system out.” He crouched down in front of you, taking the other side of your face in his other hand. “Please let me take care of you.”

The words were so softly spoken, so tender, that you almost started crying. No one had ever sounded so sincere before, especially when it came to your well-being. If you weren’t so scared of infecting him, you would’ve leaned forward to kiss him.

So you could only reply quietly, with the smallest of nods. “Okay.”

His face burst into a dazzling smile, the kind that made you never want to stop looking at him. “Okay. You rest some more and I’ll go make that for you.”

You smiled weakly back at him, suddenly remembering something. “I don’t think I have any soup.”

Bob didn’t falter. “That’s alright. I’ll figure something out.”

You thought that maybe you were a little bit in love with him.

“Help yourself to anything.” It didn’t need to be said, he knew your kitchen pretty well at this point and you always made it clear that he was free to eat or use anything in it when he was over at your place.

He nodded, pressed a kiss to your forehead and stood up. “Try to sleep a little. This might take a while.”

You snorted, regretting it immediately as it made your throat feel all scratchy. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

Bob paused for a second, halfway to taking a step towards the kitchen, and looked back at you. “Lieutenant?”

You nodded, mouth twitching at the corners.

He seemed to think on it for a second. “Hm, we’ll come back to that.”

You giggled quietly into your blanket and settled back onto the couch, closing your eyes and thinking of Bob Floyd. Your boyfriend. Your extremely caring boyfriend. Who was in your kitchen making you soup! When did you suddenly get so lucky? The musings drifted away with you as you slipped into unconsciousness.

Some time passed before you were awoken again by Bob stroking the side of your face and softly uttering your name.

You rubbed your eyes as you sat up, slightly confused as your head cleared. “What’s going on?”

“Soup.” He replied simply, picking up your legs and sitting down before placing them across his lap. He leaned forward to grab the bowl and spoon on your coffee table and then turned to face you.

“You gonna feed me?” You teased.

Bob smiled. “I would if you wanted me to but I’m sure you’d rather I throw this soup in your face than do that.”

He was right.

“Hm, when did you get to know me so well?” You asked, half joking as you took the bowl and spoon from him. The soup was a rich green colour. What he’d found to put in it, you had no idea. “Always thought I was closed off.”

“You are.” He shrugged. “But I pay attention.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his again. He was just looking at you with a slight smile, hands smoothing up and down the lengths of your clothed legs.

You were definitely a little bit in love with him.

You defaulted to a joke. "Remind me when I'm feeling better that you're gonna get it sooo good."

Bob snorted. "I think the fever is making you delirious."

"I'm just frustrated because you, somehow, look hotter than usual and I'm too sick to do anything about it." You gestured vaguely to his outfit, using the spoon to point.

“I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt.”

“Hot.” You insisted.

"Okay, I'll remind you." He rolled his eyes. “Now eat your soup.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” You mumbled, dipping the spoon into the thick liquid.

He huffed out a laugh.

You weren’t surprised in the least that the soup was delicious. You were starting to believe that Bob might actually be the perfect man, some sort of miracle sent to Earth to apologise for all the wrongdoing in the world. How he’d managed to concoct a good soup out of the limited ingredients in your kitchen was beyond you. And yet, he’d done it.

“What the hell did you put in this?” You asked, frowning at him mock suspiciously. If you didn’t know him better you’d think he’d ordered it to your place while you were asleep. But Bob Floyd wasn’t that kind of guy.

“Some stuff I found laying around.” He shrugged modestly. “Didn’t follow a recipe or anything.”

You scoffed. “You’re something else.”

He just shrugged again, a pleased smile playing on the corners of his lips, and watched you practically inhale the rest of the dish. He was very glad you’d eaten it.

“How you feeling now?”

“Better.” You admitted. “But I don’t know if it’s because of the soup or because you’re here.”

Bob’s heart thudded against his rib cage at that confession. “Just happy to help.”

You hummed and stared at him fondly.

He had trouble getting his next question out, distracted by the way you were looking at him. “Do- do you- do you want to go back to sleep?”

You hesitated before answering him, mulling an idea over in your mind. “There is something I want.”

“Oh, yeah? What is it?” He was willing to do anything for you.

“Don’t want you to get sick.” You sighed.

He smiled. “I think we left that concern behind when I first got here.”

Your eyes widened. “No! Don’t make me feel guilty.”

“I’m not trying to.” Bob assured you. “But I doubt whatever you want is going to have a higher risk of getting me sick than me just sitting here next to you.”

You grumbled something underneath your breath to yourself.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind getting sick off of you.”

Maybe you were a lot in love with him.

So you let it burst out of you. “Wanna cuddle.”

Bob didn’t even respond to you, just scooped you up into his arms and maneuvered the two of you into the position he knew you liked - him on his back with you half on top of him and half next to him, one leg and one arm slung around him, your face buried his chest and head tucked under his chin, one of his hands moving to stroke up and down your arm, trace patterns across your back and comb through your hair.

He knew you so well.

You nuzzled your face against his t-shirt. “Thank you.”

He inhaled deeply. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“I want to. You didn’t have to do all of this.”

“Making you soup is nothing. It’s not like I’m giving you a kidney.” He paused. “Although I’d probably do that too.”

You chuckled against his chest. “What I mean is, most guys would’ve accepted my ‘I’m good’ text and carried on with their day. You didn’t.”

“Because I knew you were lying.” He reminded you.

“That’s my point. No one has ever known I was lying before.” You tilted your head up to look at him. “I’m glad you knew.”

“Me too.”

Bob wanted to kiss you but knew you’d kill him if he tried. So he settled for the smile he gave you that always made you look away nervously. Which you did, as predicted, and then swiftly fell asleep against him. He wondered how’d he’d gotten so lucky. Sure, he was caring for a sick person but it was the happiest he’d been in a long time. Which should sound ridiculous but to him it made more sense than anything.

He was knocked out of his thoughts when you whined lowly in your sleep and held onto him tighter. He smiled down at you and held you closer to his chest.

Bob knew then that he was a lot in love with you.

A/N: And we’re back!

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pumpk1n-writes · 1 year

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Tell Me All About The Dark Places You Hide

➥ in which the reader figures out that their best friends are the infamous Woodsboro Killers and decides to help them rather than turn them in. {ft. stalking, in-depth descriptions of how the reader would murder someone, Billy uses “princess”, reader is a bit insane}

Part Two | Word Count ~ 720 (sorry, this one’s pretty short. The next few parts will be longer — this is more of an intro than an actual part and I was rushing to finish it)

The media you consume is your own responsibility and I will not be held accountable for your choices. I’m not going to block minors from this account, but proceed with caution anyway.

Taglist ~ @wasawattpadkid

It was a normal Friday night for you, some old black and white horror movie on, parents gone, and homework lying forgotten about on the kitchen counter.

The phone behind you rang and you groaned, leaving it for a few moments before getting up to answer. “Who’s this?”

Somebody on the other end — clearly using a voice changer — began speaking. “Do you like scary movies?”

“Eh. I enjoy them but the suspension of disbelief needed for most of them is too much.”

“Oh? What do you mean by that?”

“Well, for one, the way that the killers in a lot of them actually do it is disappointing. They hardly toy with their victims and just straight up kill them. There’s hardly any fear, it’s just a single moment of blood and gore before it’s over.”

Billy grinned underneath his Ghostface mask. “You’re an interesting girl, what’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know that right now. What’s your favorite color?”

Without thinking Billy answered. “Red.”

“Like blood?”

“Sure, princess. Like blood.”

“Princess?”

Billy smirked again. “Well if you’re not going to tell me your name I have to find something to call you. You got a boyfriend?”

“Oh god no. They’re all toxic little shits that don’t know how to act. Besides, it’s too messy to clean up their blood.”

A beat of silence then; “For legal reasons, that was a joke.”

And all of a sudden, you were a much more fascinating person than Billy had ever imagined you would be to him. He wanted to know everything about you, all your strange little habits and personality traits that made you the way you are, your daily schedule, what your blood looked like spilled over his blade and hands.

“Hello?”

“Don’t worry, princess, I’m still here. And I have more questions for you.”

“Well I’m getting kind of sleepy so hurry it up.”

Billy smiled to himself, using his binoculars to glance around your room. You sat up on your bed, playing with something he couldn’t see. You also — he noticed, blood pooling southward — were only wearing an oversized t-shirt.

“What would you do differently as the killer in those movies?” That wasn’t the question you’d expected. Maybe your favorite band or your least favorite food. Maybe your name again. But not how you would commit murder.

You thought for a moment, humming under your breath. “For one thing, I wouldn’t make it so obvious it was me. In a lot of those movies the audience is guessing who it is in the first five minutes. That wouldn’t be me. I’m pretty outgoing and bubbly around my friends anyway, so I wouldn’t really be a suspect. Plus, my friends say I’m wicked smart but no one can tell when they first meet me.”

Billy nodded to himself. That much was true. He would never have expected you, one of his classmates who sits next to him in English, to go so in depth on how not to get caught murdering people.

You kept going. “So I would play that up. Cry at any mention of my dead classmates, but not too much or it’ll get suspicious. I’d keep up the facade of ‘perfect student’ and act disgusted when anyone brings up how I killed them. That alone would help.”

Billy laughed. “You sound like you’ve thought about this a lot.” But secretly he was taking notes.

“Sorry, I get really bored sometimes, and this is just what my mind strays to.”

Really? This is what your sick, twisted mind thought up in your free time? He wondered how many times he’d glanced over at you in English and you were plotting his death, spaced out with a happy smile on your face.

“Keep going, princess.”

“Well that’s just how I wouldn’t get caught. The actual murders themselves I would make as grisly and gory as I could think of so people would think a sweet, innocent, ‘perfect’ girl could never commit them. I would maybe draw satanic symbols on the wall in their blood or something to throw off police. I would only kill crackheads or past criminals so that the police wouldn’t really care very much to solve it. And I would only kill weeks apart so that they don’t feel immediately threatened.”

“Jesus Christ,” Billy was mostly thinking to himself, but still. He was impressed.

He also thought he might be falling in love with you a little bit.

#poly!ghostface #poly!ghostface smut #angst #billy loomis #fluff #scream #scream 1996 #smut #series #fic #scream 1996 smut #billy loomis scream #stu matcher x reader #stu macher

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lvckyyz · 4 months

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hebe’s cabin headcanon

cabin’s song: live while we’re young - one direction

hebe is the goddess of youth

her children usually look younger than they actually are

if you’re from cabin 18, you’re probably used to people saying you are too innocent

hebe’s children + hermes’ children = chaos

you’re playful and like to make the others laugh

your childhood was great and that makes you afraid of growing up

hebe doesn’t age at all, so she has to do most of the chores in the olympus. but you 🫵 hate people telling you what to do, and act a little childish when you don’t want to do something

you have a really good vibe

i think cabin 18 would feel really nostalgic. like, when you get claimed by hebe your siblings would bring things that reminds you about your childhood to the cabin

cabin 3, 7 and 11 love you guys

hebe’s children are so lucky, because i believe she’d make sure they know she’s looking out for them

some of you had a crush on jeremy sumpter’s peter pan

you rarely ever get sick

sometimes you think you have to prove to people what your capable to do, because they’d underestimate you a lot

family is the most important thing in your life

you’re fast learners

you usually need other people to defend you during arguments because you’re never expecting someone to be mad at you

they’re not the best ones in combat but this is not a disadvantage for them, because one of their powers is to make you “lose” the mastery in your abilities for some time, making them stronger than their enemies for a while

you’re funny without trying

most of hebe’s children are not the biggest fans of vegetables and fruits

you’re terrible at giving advice

kids absolutely love you

you hate being alone or feeling ignored

you give up really easily when things don’t work the way they should

you’re that one friend that keeps asking question no one knows the answer for, and gets mad when people tell you to google it

a/n: this one was so hard to think of😭 i just know one person from cabin 18, so this was all inspired on him. if anyone from cabin 18 thinks this is not how you are, pls tell me!

next: cabin 9 ⚙️

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #heros of olympus #pjo hoo toa #jason grace #pjo imagine #pjo tv show #rick riordan #riordanverse #headcanon #cabin 18 #hebe #clarisse la rue #luke castellan #leo valdez

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findafight · 9 months

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Oh yeah, in my head Robin’s coming out swiftly derails into an argument between her and her Mom because “you would disown me, don’t even try to pretend-“

I love the idea of Steve discovering she’s a Summer of love baby and uttering the phrase (or mimicking Melissa calling her a “love child”) when he wants to to shut up.

I also like to imagine, that as exams are coming up, Steve starts coming over and doing Robin’s chores for her in an effort to maximise the time they can spend together. Robin’s parents are convinced that she has bullied him into this somehow and, while initially impressed with her, are getting sick of coming into the kitchen to see Steve trying to pretend he wasn’t washing dishes two seconds ago.

Also, I know you’re a fan of Hop adopting Steve, but hear me out; Robin’s parents occasionally stand in for Steve’s (hospital etc) and Richard amuses himself by telling people they’re Irish twins (he makes himself laugh and that’s what matters). A couple of times he refers to them as “the twins” to Melissa, but it’s when he refers to them as “my twins” in conversation with someone that knows he only has one kid he realises - they kinda have two kid now.

Alternatively, they’re eating dinner, there’s an argument and when Steve buts in at the wrong moment Melissa or Robert automatically (bc they were expecting it to be Robin who was going to argue back) snap “go to your room!”

And Steve, looking out upon, gathers his plate and his glass and without hesitating takes his dinner to eat in Robin’s room (or the guest room, is their house is big enough).

Robin’s only reaction to yell “You’re 19 you Dingus, they can’t boss you around like that anymore!”

Robin arguing with her mom that she would hav totally disowned her and Melissa going "I'd only disown you if you joined the military and committed more war crimes that normal!! and even then it's iffy!! We just wanted you to feel safe!!" while Steve (moral support for Robin) and Mr. Buckley stand off to the side.

Mr. Buckley walking in of Steve looking like he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar but he's actually vacuuming the drapes(have never been vacuumed before bc that's a rich people thing to do) is so funny. when asked why he's doing them for her if she didn't blackmail him or something he says "because if I do them when she's at school then she doesn't have to do them and we have more time to hang out 🥺" a la patrick "wait fo you to get back" star.

Listen okay. I am actually a fan of a cold war happening in Hawkins between a select group of adult who are all vying for being seen as parental figures to steve. Hop, Claudia Henderson and the Sinclairs (they're a team), and the Buckleys are all glaring at each other and inviting Steve for dinner and asking if he needs anything. they all think they have the Most Claim over the role lol. Steve is unaware of why everytime he says he's having dinner with Hop Mrs. Henderson invites him over a few days later, or that he says Mrs. Buckley showed hi how to troubleshoot a clogged or leaky sink Hop suggests they go fishing the next weekend, or why Richard Buckley offered to teach him his Nonna's tiramisu recipe when told Sue Sinclair baked date squares with him....

I don't really think steve and robin having a very sibling-like relationship but a few people half-jokingly calling them the twins is funny. like it's their Team Name. they aren't siblings but they're twins do you see this. Will and El are THEE Wonder Twins but Steve and robin are the ""wonder twins"" am i making sense.

#findaanswers #anonasaurus #steve harrington #robin buckley #robin buckley's parents #stranger things #stobin #claudia and the sinclairs are a united front on all issues #Hop is trying really hard not to say he had him first to the buckleys because that's childish #and Claudia will turn it back around on him bc she actually had him first lol.#honestly this is a minor point in RaSEPSM too. battle of wills between claudia and the buckleys for steve's affection

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688199 · 1 year

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i will, don’t test me thomas doodooballs. my hatred for you triumphs everything 🔥🔥🔥 once i familiarise myself with mlb (🤮) i will maybe write a test script for an episode.

thomas and his writing team is proof that just because you have a job in something doesn’t mean you’re good at it.

huge rant and ramble:

as an avid enjoyer of story telling, i strongly despise everyone behind the writing of mlb.

firstly, marinette is supposed to have bad luck through her ditziness. i watched a few episodes, and her “bad luck” seems to just be with anything regarding adrien? it’s actually just more of her being obsessive and leading to stupid mistakes. on the other hand, bridgette obviously has bad luck. getting drenched, burning her tongue, yet she smiles through it. THIS IS POTENTIAL FOR BRIDGETTE’S CHARACTER. marinette’s character has never been properly explained. why is she this way? why is she different as ladybug? (honestly is she even different? kinda, but it’s not obvious) we sure do know why adrien is more carefree as chat noir. but not marinette. on the other hand, the set up for bridgette’s character can lead to so many plot possibilities. why is she so optimistic? is it because it’s what is expected of her? is she purposefully dense? when she gets drenched by the car, she pauses for a short while looking solemn, then smiles. but that smile looks pained almost. like she’s sick of acting that way. (yes i know i’m looking too much into a pv but that’s the point. i’m saying why the pv has potential.) therefore, as ladybug, she can be herself. someone who does whatever she wants, going ahead without thought, being the person she cannot be. anyways, why the hell is marinette even in love with adrien anyways. he just gave her a god damn umbrella or smth idk. i believe my baby bridgette loves felix because she truly sees his soft side. it may be cliche but it sure is a better reason than an umbrella.

secondly, felix. thomas and his team said he was too much like a cliche male anime protagonist, and adrien would let them tell more interesting stories. i mean sure, but it’s most ironic how they even FAILED AT THAT. i rather a cliche male anime protagonist than bitch boy adrien who is as bland as cardboard. felix being cold to those around him is very reasonable because as a model, he’s used to people only liking him for looks and his money. he thinks that bridgette only likes him for those reasons, so he pushes her away. but as chat noir, felix, like bridgette, is able to be someone he truly feels. unrestrained by societal pressures. EVEN THOUGH THEY ARE BOTH POLAR OPPOSITES, ONE BEING COLD WHILE THE OTHER IS TOO WARM, THEY SUFFER FROM THE SAME ISSUES DEEP DOWN. AS HEROES THEY ARE THEMSELVES. ISNT THIS COOL????? ISNT THIS A GOOD STORYTELLING POINT?????????? then even though he needs to kiss ladybug to break the curse, he soon falls in love with her because he admires her boldness, which is something he lacks when he’s himself. he doesn’t have the courage to stand up against his father. i think mlb chat noir likes ladybug for similar reasons but i don’t remember it being connected like that. (never watched the entire 100+ episodes, only bits and pieces, and read up other stuff so might be wrong.)

i believe his team is just straight lazy. they watered down the relationships and characters to the point that dynamic contrast is just not as powerful as before. in early preproduction art, the concept shown is supposed to revolve heavily around the idea of opposites. marinette is now just an obsessive stalker and adrien takes it. chat noir flirts with ladybug and she takes it. where’s the rejection from the opposite party??? where’s the oomph?? where’s the spice???

i do enjoy the concept of them letting go of their crushes. but i didn’t like how it was done in the series. it’s as if the writers don’t fucking know the hell they’re going. felix struggles with understanding whether he truly loves bridgette or is it because of the effects of the ring’s curse. does he really want the curse to be gone? while it gives him bad luck, he gets to be himself. what does he truly want? for bridgette, she realises that she is bothering felix too much. wanting the best for him and for her to focus on being ladybug, she learns to leave him in the past for both their good. she also suffers with the weight of being the main heroine. even though she uses her identity as ladybug to be free of expectations and responsibilities, yet it’s coming back to haunt her so she starts to feel stress. while chat noir and bridgette backs away, felix and ladybug realise that they miss the other’s company since the other was always there for them when they needed it the most. the way this was written in mlb was awfully horrible.

look at what i can do thomas astruc, look at the potential. “their chemistry sucks it’ll never work” SUCK MY BALLS WHAT BULLSHIT IS THAT.

anyways, other than the obvious reason as to why the animation is a lot more visually striking and can express more things the cgi can’t (dynamic movement, special effects, etc) (funny enough, the people behind mlb said the cgi made the show more dynamic???), this is why the pv has much more potential and i will never stop believing that.

(also why didn’t the cgi ever put in effort to make ladybug and chat noir look different than their normal selves. it’s the biggest fucking plot hole that never attempts to change. even the pv tries to make bridgette’s hair change.) (sorry for low quality but see, her hair is more messy too.)

thomas astruc and zag you’re just lazy money grabbing bastards 🗣️ i stand by that. if you’re truly passionate about what you want to do (which i believe you guys were until you weren’t), you wouldn’t have sacrificed quality for money.

“the concept of the original show dealt with political themes geared towards teens and young adults but it failed to gain traction with networks so it retooled for a younger audience.” other than the team failing to realise that “cliche” doesn’t automatically mean bad, the other huge fault is that they think children are stupid and can’t handle heavier themes. look at bluey, look at all the series out there with a relatively large children audience which also deal with such stuff. it’s not impossible, it just needs exceptional writing skills. but what can i expect from a team like that.

sorry not sorry, i’m pretty mad. i have a lot of other complaints but i already spent 2h writing this. down with thomas astruc!!!!! all hail ladybug pv!!!!!!

#ladybug pv #thomas astruc #fuck you thomas astruc #bridgette cheng #i love bridgette so much #felix agreste #felix too #hey toei it’s time to make ladybug pv into an independent show and make sure not to hire anyone from the current mlb team hire me #i’m gonna cry myself to sleep

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melrosing · 5 months

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MATE I have a feeling I am so late to this but what happened to your job!

lmao! so much! but I don’t have it anymore! ok you didn’t ask for the full story lmao but im always in the mood for venting lately so the full tale under the cut on What Happened With My Job

so without getting into detail they have been absolute asses all year!! like with each other the women in my team are like Bosom Pals but apart from a handful of pleasant people they just have no time for me lol it’s very cliquey??

anyway. we had some really difficult clients in the Spring who were ready to throw in the towel at every stage of our work process bc it was unfamiliar territory for them. I was leading the project but really struggling to meet their insane expectations like it was HUNDREDS of emails a day from like 8AM to 8PM and their ‘head of’ sometimes swearing at me on calls with a dozen other people and thinking I can work magic and get [MAJOR CELEBRITY] involved in a thing for them when objectively I can’t and just scream. anyway my directors get really uneasy because this is a big client and they don’t want them getting scared off so when the client starts reaching a crescendo of frustration they fully just scapegoat me right at the end of the campaign (at which point our results are great! lmao) and say it will be Dealt With

around the same time I start to realise that the business is failing and my ‘specialist position’ is typically the first kind to go and that COINCIDENTALLY they are on my ass day after day trying to insist im not meeting their ‘standards’ and genuinely making up the most insane reasons why not (like I know I’d be biased saying this but SERIOUSLY) so im like ohhh right. I see where this is going

THEN my dad gets goddamn incurable brain cancer and my whole life falls apart. and they suddenly have to be like ‘oh no. I am sorry this has happened. oh dear.’ I’m off two weeks having a complete mental breakdown until im kindly reminded that cough I’ve almost used up my statutory days of compassionate leave! but per company guidelines they do have to manage my workload whilst i er. struggle indefinitely w the emotional burden?? so my capacity is thus reduced and man you can tell they’re not thrilled about it

so they basically check in every Friday for a month saying ‘hope everything is ok can you take on more work yet’ CONSPICUOUSLY never asking how anything is going with dad (like when I first logged back in I had a catch up with my line manager and kind of tremulously started talking about what had happened and she literally said ‘it’s ok you don’t need to tell me the details’)

THEN I get GASTROENTERITIS 💃🏻 god knows how. but it’s a bad one and I physically can’t eat for a week man I eat like a banana a day and even that makes me sick lol. but whatever the first day I phone in and tell my director im not well. she’s like ‘WELL I ACTUALLY HAVE SO MUCH TO MANAGE RIGHT NOW SO THIS REALLY ISN’T HELPFUL LIKE I GET YOU CAN’T HELP BEING SICK BUT I REALLY NEED TO BE ABLE TO RELY ON MY TEAM TO SUPPORT COS WE HAVE A LOT COMING UP’ (I’m not even kidding)

so on the third day I log back in bc I feel like I need to just push through it but oh no im still vomiting my guts out so I message the same director ‘look I think maybe. I am still sick’ and she says NOTHING in response till I suddenly get a text from my LINE MANAGER saying ‘Hi. X says you say you still don’t feel well. We understand it’s food poisoning. That usually only lasts 24 hours’. LIKE??? apparently with all the compassionate leave I’d had to take, the sick leave was just too much for them to bear lmao so i got myself a goddamn doctor’s note and have to announce every day for the rest of that week ‘I’m still not well sorry’ (they never ever reply)

Then finally I recover and I log back in and my director doesn’t ask me how I am or anything literally just says ‘WELL let’s get straight to business’ and explains the status of everything at me for 20 mins going on about how stressful it all is.

And then an hour later I get a surprise call from my head of department telling me unforch they’re making me redundant. can’t be helped. understand this is a bad time for you personally. (said head of department has never addressed what bad thing is happening personally rn). and im in shock. till i figure that what with my dad this is probably an appalling time to make up some performance based reason to fire me so this was their only option

and then finally I see the paperwork and realise severance pay is a third of my annual salary. so i promptly get over it, log out halfway through the month whilst still being paid for my time till the end of it, and NOT ONE of those fuckers has even reached out to say goodbye in all that time but god knows I never want to hear from them again so?? fuck it! i told HR everything anyway I was like look I don’t want to take formal action but?? I think you should know.

and now im just gonna chill for Christmas w my dad and my fam and my pals and my cats and do my weird asoiaf shit on tumblr I guess lol. so there we go that’s what happened!!!!

tl;dr got made redundant lol

#ask #sorry I think this really does have to be the last time I whine about my job on my goddamn Jaime blog #I mean I don’t even have the job anymore so #but yeah. fuck corporate jobs man. I’ll probably get another one soon enough but that company I am done with forever

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narcissisticpdcultureis · 9 months

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NPD (& comorbidities) culture is feeling entitled to favors and special treatment from others but.. when you finally get it you feel empty and unsatisfied. Or sometimes it feels like you’re being patronized and humiliated. I don’t understand, I should be happy when people are giving me special treatment. But I feel oddly patronized, it feels like they’re treating me like some child or pet. Especially if I ask for the special treatment, etc; it feels like they’re doing it out of obligation or pity and not because they think I actually deserve it.

For example, I know a lot of fellow narcissists enjoy being the center of attention, etc, on their birthday. I hate it for some reason. This may be due to the fact that I have had a lot of traumatic experiences on birthdays and holidays and ‘vacations’, so I’ve come to associate negativity with them. I want to be alone on my birthday. I feel defensive and belittled when people try to give me gifts and attention, especially on my birthday. It feels like they’re attempting to use me or like they’re secretly insulting me. It’s weird, because I am a narcissist, I qualify for NPD, but (probably because of comorbidities) I don’t relate to most narcissists. There are some I have found that I relate to, but I still feel very alienated and alone.

I know I’m able to get supply because I’ve gotten it before, but most supply that works for other narcissists doesn’t work for me. I hate it, it feels like I’m cursed to never be happy. Supply has to be hyper specific for me, but because it’s hyper specific—I can’t always get it. It has to be worded a certain a way, at a certain time, from certain people—and it makes me seem like I’m entitled. I suppose it would make me entitled, but I don’t enjoy not being able to get quick and/or easy supply. It’s weird that egotypicals assume that I choose to, let alone enjoy, being entitled like this. It would be nice to be happy about small things and achievements, but it’s as if my brain is holding me back. And when I do finally achieve something I still feel so empty because nothing is ever enough. The high I get from it is so fleeting and short lived that sometimes I can’t even process what I’m feeling until it’s already gone, and then I’m back to feeling miserable all over again. I don’t want to have high expectations, I’m sick of egotypicals assuming that I choose to have these outrageously high standards. Because, they’re not just for other people—but very much for myself. None of this is a choice for me in the end, but egotypicals just love to parade around saying that narcissists choose to have self esteem issues (sarcasm).

I don’t why I can’t believe people when they praise me or compliment me. I want to, don’t get me wrong, but there’s something in the back of my mind telling me that I don’t deserve it. That clearly they must be lying out of pity, because that’s how unloveable I truly am. There’s this feeling, or thought, that insists people are lying or that I am underserving all the time. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want praise, I still very much need it. But I just can’t for the life of me believe them. It feels like they’re all lying. Like they’re all talking down to me. They’re all lying to me like how someone might lie to a child about how great their artwork is. It feels like they’re giving me a participation award out of pity for not being good enough. It feels like they’re trying to manipulate me just to absolutely crush me once I finally accept/believe their praise. If I believe it, they’ll take it away from me without a second thought. And that’s because they never thought I deserved it to begin with, they’re just following their silly social rules. They resent me and disgust me and hate me, but they’ll pretend like they care. And then they wonder why I never believe them.

#npd culture is #npd #actually narcissistic #actually npd #narcissistic personality disorder #cluster b

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neptunes-sol-angel · 1 year

Text

𓈒 ⭒ ݁ .#onecardthreeways 𓈒 ⭒ ݁ .

This is my submission for the challenge that I've been postponing for the longest. If you'd like to participate, then here are the instructions.

@gryphis-eyes did an amazing post for this challenge by using only one card, so that inspired me to do the same. This was great exercise for my intuition, and I'd love it if more people took a shot at this.

The card that I pulled, is the Three of Pentacles.

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Pile One

I'm seeing "Dragonballs" and coins being flipped into a fountain, both of these things relate to a wish being granted. Some of you are wishing for you and another person to make amends, I'm strongly getting that this is about a classmate or co-worker, because professionalism involved. Someone is being stubborn, which the other person doesn't really care about, because their focus is making sure that a goal in an assignment or project is being met but pettiness is holding back the cooperation that both of you guys need in order to make progress.

If this is really important to you, then I'm getting that a peaceful resolution will happen for you, but not with the person that you expected to finish this matter with. You could be assigned to someone else or you will have an opportunity to find a replacement. I feel like this is a lesson for you guys to realize that you don't have to sacrifice your comfort or safety to get the things that matter to you. You could have the habit of constantly putting others above you, but there's only so much that you can tolerate, furthermore, you betray yourself by being the only person to make adjustments in a partnership, the 'co' in compromise is supposed to mean for the both of you to take action in. Even if this particular scenario isn't your situation. I feel like your message in general is that if one way doesn't work, then it doesn't mean that you've failed or that you're the problem, that one way just gets you closer to the other possible ways that will work.

Pile Two

"Skeletons in closet" Quality > Quantity. It isn't wise to tell everyone your business, but it's also best to be wise about that one person that you choose to tell your business to, because the one wrong person could be the type to tell everyone about yourself so that you won't even have to. I feel like someone's going to expose themselves, but it isn't you. There's something that you told someone, that they misinterpreted but got extremely excited to tell others about because they think that it's "tea". But the real tea is that you have nothing to hide, you'd just rather not share, but now you know who's your friend and who's not really your friend. I know the card is the three of pentacles, but I keep getting threes. Three as in the three of swords which could explain the betrayal, but also threes as in multiple people being involved in something that they shouldn't. Even if you are the type that knows how to share stuff without telling anything about you, that's significant, pay attention to your circle, because I keep seeing this person stacking up "receipts" to use against you, or to make you appear scandalous even though they have not a clue what they're talking about. There are sick people in the world and you cannot control what others say about you, but for your safety and peace, cut them out of your life.

Pile Three

I'm getting multiple messages and they all somewhat deal with recovery. I see someone looking through some kind of storage, whether it's an actual unit, or a small fireproof box filled with items that remind them of you. You could get an apology soon. I'm getting that this could be from a family member, but it could be someone from an old romantic connection.

For one of the other interpretations, I feel that maybe this is a message for some of you to be careful with your belongings, to keep track of something small but of big importance to you, or to try not to take on so many things at once because you could either forget an appointment or miss out on an event related to someone that you care about. This could also mean that you actually are already taking on too many things at once and to stop because you're heavily overwhelming yourself to the point where it could affect your health, or too much of time for yourself is being taken away to external situations.

The last interpretation, is that if you lost something awhile ago, then don't worry, you will get it back or finally will find out where you lost it.

Pile Four

You could be worried about a task because it appears to be difficult, but I think it's hard for you to try something without getting the proper directions on how to do it. I'm getting that you should seek instructions from outside resources, like online forums, or video tutorials, and other places for different methods. Once you get a different perspective on it that makes sense to you, you will find the task to actually be easier than you thought.

The general message is to not discourage yourself while learning something or downplay your intelligence because of what looks to be intimidating or because you haven't grasped it immediately. The very thing that you're worried about is going to make you very happy because of how you overcome your doubt over your own abilities, and the reward that comes from finding individuals who you can learn from and a deeper connection with your own distinct way of gaining knowledge and experience in different subjects, and could also be your favorite thing to practice and teach to others who share the same fears that you had.

This could also look like beating procrastination or finding a way to be more organized so that you can be consistent with breaking or gaining a healthy habit.

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thefactsofthematter · 1 year

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u asked and i will deliver. if u want to write this feel free to change literally anything but

model davey! he graduated college with honors, has a degree in poli sci, and was literally about to go to law school before being signed to a modeling agency- thus starting a turbulent relationship with his family. he starts doing runways and soon moves into print works and even in his short time of modeling he’s become a frequent in some of the most well-known fashion magazines. this is great, this is amazing- but it has an impact on his mental health that he wasn’t ready for.

enter jack kelly, the makeup artist that somehow always seems to work with davey; jack is known for his bold editorial looks and impeccable work, yet he has quite the image in the industry. he’s stubborn, he’s unorthodox, he’s got quite the temper, but his work speaks for itself. jack is the guy who never wears makeup to shoots, he never dresses up unless it’s something important, he’s got piercings and tattoos and a list of bad habits following him wherever he goes.

anyway blah blah they fall in love they indulge in bad habits and reckless things they get better and boom they’re everyone’s favorite powerhouse couple!!!

ohohohoho JAC!!! i’m obsessed!!! god a model au just tickles my brain the perfect way and this is everything @we-are-inevitable

here’s a fun (or possibly fucked up? idk those are synonyms to me sometimes) little one shot! tw for some mentions of disordered eating - as one might expect from a model au

David Jacobs is a nice person.

For all twenty-three years of his life so far, he’s told himself that. It’s been mostly true— he’s never had much of a temper, he treats people with empathy and kindness, and he’s never been demanding or high-strung. He’s normally a pretty chill person who’s easy to please, and who genuinely likes to help people and make them happy.

Nothing about the past year has been normal, though, and he’s starting to realize it might be messing with him a little. Just a few weeks ago, parents were bitching about how much he’s changed, and he thought it was bullshit… until he suddenly catches himself storming away from his personal assistant (which he has now, by the way,) after shouting:

“Just stop talking and figure it out yourself! Can you fuck off and leave me alone for two fucking seconds? Oh my god.”

And then he’s off, out the back door of the set, to sit on the fire escape and try to cool down. He knows he’s being an asshole, but he’s at the end of his rope— he hasn’t eaten an actual meal in three days, there’s makeup caked all over his face and too much product in his hair, he’s sick of people touching him and telling him what to do, and fucking Romeo won’t stop reminding him how busy he is by asking stupid questions about his jam-packed schedule for the next few days. He has a runway show tonight that’ll go to at least midnight, and a 5 AM call time for a shoot tomorrow, and then an afternoon flight to Paris— he doesn’t care which of the two hotels Romeo booked he actually stays at, because they’re both five stars anyways, so it shouldn’t be this much of a hassle to pick one and cancel the other, and it’s something that should be able to get taken care of without needing to bother him about it.

He instinctively goes to rub at his eyes once he’s outside, but he freezes when he hears:

“If you fuck up your makeup, I’m not fixing it for you. I hope you’re done shooting in there.”

His head snaps to the side, and he sees none other than Jack Kelly.

He’s leaning against the wall, with half of a foil-wrapped bodega breakfast sandwich in one hand and a coffee in the other, obviously on a break. He’s still wearing his makeup-stained apron over his clothes— comfy-looking joggers and a t-shirt that shows off his tattoo-covered arms— and he’s got a Givenchy beanie perched almost precariously high on his head. He doesn’t seem pissed, mostly amused, but Davey has heard rumours about his allegedly quick temper; fucking up his work would be a good way to get on his bad side.

“Sorry,” Davey sighs. He folds his arms over his chest to keep his hands away from his face. “I think I’m done— they might want more shots once they look at what we’ve got, though. I don’t know. I have to get out of here soon for a fitting uptown either way.”

It was Jack who applied the fancy, editorial eye makeup that Davey nearly ruined— his apprentice does the base layers of foundation and whatnot, but it’s Jack’s artistic vision and skill that people pay for when they book him for stuff like this, so he does the important parts himself. He takes his sweet time, snapping at people when they try to rush him, which is why Davey spent over an hour in the makeup chair this morning.

It’s probably the tenth or-so time Jack has done his makeup, but they’ve barely ever conversed, both of them too busy being pulled in a million different directions by everyone else on set.

“Busy day, huh?” Jack chuckles. His nose crinkles a little when he laughs, and it makes his septum piercing wiggle. He takes a bite of his sandwich and then talks as he chews. “What were you yelling about in there?”

Davey very nearly rolls his eyes.

“Nothing,” he mutters. “It’d just be nice if my assistant would fucking assist me sometimes, instead of asking me a million questions about every stupid little thing. He drives me insane, I swear.”

Jack quirks an eyebrow.

“Fire him, then.” He shrugs. “You’d have to start calling your own Ubers and picking up your own coffees, though… might be tough.”

Davey is pretty sure he’s joking, but he does have a point— Romeo takes care of a lot of the day-to-day shit that Davey himself doesn’t have time for anymore, everything from posting on his social media to ordering his groceries. He does a lot more than anyone gives him credit for.

“I’m not gonna fire him. He’s a good kid,” Davey sighs. “I’m just… pissed off right now. I needed to get outside and breathe for a minute.”

Jack finishes his sandwich, crumpling up the foil and shoving it into a pocket of his apron. He then reaches into a different pocket and procures a joint and a lighter.

“Here.” He holds them out to Davey. “Chill out a little.”

Davey blinks, staring more at Jack’s tattooed fingers than what’s held between them, and then quickly shakes his head.

“Sorry, no. I don’t smoke.”

Jack laughs.

“You’re a model, and you don’t smoke?” he teases. “That’s funny, tell another one.”

Maybe it was a good thing he hasn’t talked much to Jack before— he’s really fucking annoying.

“Fine, only cigarettes,” Davey ultimately concedes. “I’m not into weed.”

Jack shrugs and lights the joint, taking it to his own lips for a puff.

“Suit yourself.”

It’s quiet for a second as Jack exhales the smoke. He’s a real picture of effortless beauty— he’s obviously not thinking about his appearance right now, but there’s something almost untouchable about how casually gorgeous he is.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Davey ends up adding, “but I get so hungry when I’m high. I’m on a diet right now, so I can’t do that to myself.”

Jack shakes his head.

“Models… maybe that’s why you guys are brats. You’re hangry all the time.”

“Hangry?”

“You know, hungry and angry. You get all irritable because your agent convinced you a human can survive on, like, three almonds a day, when any sane person knows that’s bullshit.”

Davey’s stomach grumbles annoyingly, as if on cue. He’s not even that hungry. He already had a coffee this morning anyways, which should’ve been enough to get him through to dinner time.

“You’re kind of a dick,” Davey remarks. He wouldn’t typically be so blunt, but his bad mood is making him lose his filter. “What’s your deal?”

Jack shrugs.

“I’m tired. People think I’m an asshole for trying to take my time and do my job right, but when I rush it and cut corners to keep people happy, they get pissed that it doesn’t look good. There’s no winning, and it’s fucking exhausting.” He takes another puff of the joint. “Pays the bills, though.”

Davey rolls his eyes.

“That hat you’re wearing retails for, like, five hundred dollars. I think it pays more than your bills.”

Jack laughs, and it’s not that cynical chuckle from before. He actually smiles, caught off guard by the remark.

“Fair point. In my defence, I got the hat for free from a photoshoot. Another perk, I guess.”

Davey finds himself smiling too.

“How long have you been doing makeup?”

“I’ve been playing with it forever,” Jack replies, “but professionally, about five years. How long have you been in the game?”

“Almost a year.” Davey pauses. “I was in school— I actually finished undergrad and got into law— but it wasn’t right. I got scouted in August, and thought fuck it, I might as well try. It worked out pretty well, I’d say.”

Jack eyes him sort of curiously.

“You gave up law school for this?”

“Got out of going to law school, more like. I didn’t want to do it.” Davey shrugs. “It was more my parents’ thing. I wasn’t that interested.”

Jack blows a ring of smoke, almost absentmindedly.

“How do they feel about your career change?”

Davey shakes his head.

“I haven’t talked to them in, like, a month, if that tells you anything.”

“Damn.” Jack offers the joint to Davey again. “You sure you don’t want some?”

A pause.

“Fuck, I guess a couple hits couldn’t hurt.”

Jack grins and passes it over.

“I knew it.”

Davey silently takes a breath of smoke. It’s been forever since he’s indulged this way, and it feels good. He coughs a little on the first hit, but his head almost immediately feels clearer, so he goes for another.

“Feel better?” Jack asks, after a long moment.

“Yeah,” Davey breathes. “Thank you.”

He passes the joint back to Jack, who stubs it out on the railing— there’s just enough left that he could relight it for a few more puffs later, once this little buzz wears off.

“We should hang out sometime,” Jack offers. “I’d like to get to know you, Jacobs.” He pauses. “Any relation to Marc?”

“Nope. I walked for him in the spring, though.” Davey laughs softly. “You’re right, we should hang out. I’m going to Paris tomorrow, but I’ll be back in two weeks— let’s plan for then.”

Jack picks his coffee up from where he set it on the windowsill.

“I’ll bring the weed, if you bring home some cool European snacks for us to try.”

Smoking and snacking are both habits that Davey should be trying to avoid— but god, would it ever feel good to unwind when he gets home from this work trip. Maybe he deserves a night to relax with a new friend.

“Sounds good to me,” he replies, against his better judgement. “I should go, but I’ll DM you, okay?”

“Perfect,” Jack says. He waves as Davey turns to head inside. “Have a great trip. Take it easy on your poor assistant, okay?”

Davey laughs.

“Will do. I swear I don’t normally yell at people like that. Just… running low on patience today, y’know?”

That’s a stretch— he runs low on patience pretty often these days, and Romeo tends to take the brunt of it, but Davey pays him to deal with it, so he doesn’t feel that bad about it. When you’re a star, there’s certain things you can get away with: Davey’s occasional bitch fits are no worse than Jack’s famous temper tantrums. When you’re at the top, who’s going to give you shit about it?

“Oh, I know.” Jack winks. “I think we’ve got a lot in common, Dave.”

Davey smiles coyly over his shoulder as he heads back inside. He knows he looks good— he revels a little in the way Jack’s gaze stays glued to him. Maybe he’s admiring his own work, but maybe he’s admiring the canvas underneath it.

“I think you might be right. See you around, Kelly.”

And then he’s immediately being hurried back into a makeup chair so someone can clean his face, in order for him to be whisked off to the fitting that he’s already late for— at this point, people know better than to expect him to be on time.

Again, he’s a star, he does what he wants.

If he wants to waste time smoking outside with Jack Kelly, nobody’s going to stop him. Maybe he’ll make a habit out of it.

#in which davey is a bitch and jack is an asshole and they just work.#they are deeply unpleasant bc of their respective mental health issues that they refuse to deal with and now they enable each other teehee #poor romeo lol #idk why i picked him when i could’ve picked any newsie it just felt right #jack kelly #davey jacobs #javid #model au #my writing #i hope this is the vibe you were going for!!! ily jac!!

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winderlylandchime · 6 months

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1/2 And we are on 4x13 and it starts with Britin “sleeping” and immediately he scoffs at it and goes ‘yeah right. You expect me to believe that either of them sleep like that? Not to project on Blondie but he would be all over Bri Bri. OH BRIAN IS SNEAKING OUT?! What is going on? OH JUSTIN IS AWAKE?! This would be sooooo much funnier if they’d be all over each other and Bri would spend like a full minute trying to untangle. Why is he sneaking out? Brian, you know this is your house right? WHAT IS HAPPENING? Oh shit he’s following him. HE’S SNEAKING OUT TO WORK OUT? That’s..insane..and impressive.. i hid in the bathroom at the hospital last week because i tried to avoid PT. CAUGHT! HES BEEN SNEAKING AROUND FOR THREE WEEKS?! THEYRE GONNA GO TOGETHER?! AM I FINALLY GETTING A BRIAN AND JUSTIN TRIP? Even if it is to Canada? Is there a place In Pittsburgh that they haven’t fucked at? SEE THIS IS THE JUSTIN I LOVE! THIS KINKY SNEAKY LIL SHIT!’ *pauses episode on Mel* ‘IS THAT A PICTURE OF BRIAN BEHIND HER? When gus was born!!! It is! THAT IS ADORABLE!’ He is now watching the Mel/Linds passive aggressiveness ‘okay, im gonna need this shit to end. I dont care how, just end it’ ‘I forgot about this LA dude. NOOOO JUSTIN NEEDS TO GO TO LA?! BUT THE LIBERTY RIDE! FUCK YOU MIKE! NO JUSTIN! COME ON THIS IS BULLSHIT! Why does he have to go to LA! *pauses tv* this sucks. THEY WERE GONNA FUCK IN A TENT OR WHATEVER! *looks at me* yeah yeah and raise money for charity but priorities! Fuck LA’ ‘CARL WANTS TO MARRY DEBBIE?! OH MY FUCKING GOD! HOLY SHIT’ and we are at Brian/Linds scene ‘why am i not surprised that she ran to him for help? Since when is Lindsay such a bitch? *pauses tv and looks at me all sad* do you think Brian is messed up because his parents stayed together? I mean its one horrible home versus two horrible homes. I know that’s probably why he hasn’t told Blondie he loves him and why he pushes people away but like do you think it would change shit? *looks at me annoyed bc all i did was shrug in my defense im still a little sick* oh come on dont you have a psychology degree or something (this is where i looked at him funny and tell him that i absolutely do not have that) oh…do we know anyone that has it because i have questions’ *starts ep again* ‘why is Ted not going on the ride? Whats going on? So Justin AND Ted aren’t going? WHAT is happening?’ Mikey told Ben about Carl and then he says “after all thats what two people do when they love each other, right? Get married” ‘well…not always. I mean i get marriage is like a big deal cause hospitals or like taxes or whatever but other than that? Its just too much work.’ ‘I love Blondie so much but let’s be fucking real, try to imagine Brian sleeping in a tent outside. FUCKING MICHAEL WHY CANT HE KEEP HIS MOUTH SHUT! Let Justin ditch LA for a trip! Wait Brian is not going either?! Hold the fuck up? So he’s out? HOLD UP. Go on a ride without Brian and sacrifice his future? WHAT? So wait is Brian lying about not going or what? Is he lying to get Justin to go for his career? WHAT IS HAPPENING’ (all this was said very fast but also with many pauses and stuttering) ‘damn it, Mikey is actually cute! So wait the only people doing the ride are ben, hunter and Mike? the fuck?’ ‘I’m so happy that Emmett and Ted are back to being friends. EMMETT IS GOING ON THE RIDE! Aw they’re gonna ride together! At least I’ll have them two if Brian and Justin aren’t going’ and the trip to canada has started ‘so Brian is really not going? Aw he came to see them off.’ (He paused the ep to rewind back to the handjob motion hunter does and then he pointed to Brians reaction and went ‘that was either cute uncle/nephew shit OR actor dude smiled for real’) ‘i hate that he’s not going. And that Justin isn’t going. Fuck LA. Im glad Bri is being safe but it still fucking sucks.’ ‘Aw carl (carl is about to propose) sucks that he cant go. HOLY SHIT! THATS HOW HES PROPOSING?! it kinda fits for debbie not gonna lie.‘

Oh my god! the back and forth about Brian and Justin and who’s going on the liberty ride and who’s going to LA is so frustrating. I swear the writers had nothing else to do.

oh come on dont you have a psychology degree or something (this is where i looked at him funny and tell him that i absolutely do not have that) oh…do we know anyone that has it because i have questions

Shyly raises hand… you can let your brother know I have a psychology degree (three of them!) when this is all revealed. I’ll answer any questions he has.

I’m rushing through my reactions to these a bit because I have work but just know that I’ve read and reread them and died laughing.

#ask winderlylandchime #dear sweet anon #queer as folk #a straight man watches qaf us 2000 in the year of our lord 2023

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mikerickson · 2 years

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9/8 - 9/19: 700-mile road trip through Portugal

This was my first non-family related vacation since 2019 and it was sorely needed. I’m mostly documenting everything under the read more line for myself, but if you wanna peek, knock yourself out.

I studied Portuguese for two years before this trip mostly on a whim because I’m always tackling one language or another, but when we were trying to decide where we wanted to go on vacation this year, this fact kinda weighted my decision towards Portugal. Definitely came in handy because I did encounter a dozen or so people with zero English, but for the most part people in the touristy areas would switch once they detected me struggling, which was a little disheartening. In retrospect, I think I was initiating interactions with very informal speech, which probably signaled I was more competent than I actually was.

First contact with a native speaker was with the customs officer I spoke to in the Lisbon airport. I stumbled pretty poorly through that interaction, but I don’t know if it was because it was my first time conversing with someone in the language in an actual scenario, because I was sleep deprived and jet-lagged because I didn’t sleep on the plane, or because he was one of the single most handsome men I’d ever seen in my life.

The food was consistently fantastic and surprisingly cheap. Very carb heavy with breads, pastries and fried seafood though, and I found myself craving salads and fruit by the end. Also forgot that Americans drink water like fish compared to other countries; I was constantly dehydrated because I’m used to drinking like a gallon of water a day.

Churches, chapels, cathedrals, and castles out the wazoo in this country, but there was just so much detail in every single nook and cranny you can look at.

The entire country from north to south was way more hilly than I was expecting. It honestly felt like I was climbing the equivalent of a skyscraper’s-worth of stairs every day in every single city we were in. Because I have an eye for designing handicap ramps because of my work, Lisbon struck me as an exceptionally wheelchair-unfriendly city; they definitely don’t have any equivalent to ADA-compliance.

Lisbon and Porto - despite being two cities in a relatively small country - had totally different vibes. Lisbon was much warmer, Mediterranean, and slower-paced, whereas Porto had cooler colors, had almost French-looking architecture, and seemed way more active. I wasn’t expecting such a blatant difference in character between these two.

Apparently I speak Portuguese with a Spaniard accent. One woman in an ice cream shop told me that outright, but in another instance I asked a waiter for a table for four and he clocked me as a foreigner, but he brought out Spanish-language menus for us before we corrected him and asked for the English ones.

This was my first vacation in three years, but it was also my first time getting sick in three years. We landed on a Friday and by that night I came down with a sore throat. I knew some Nyquil would set me straight right away, but they’re legally not allowed to sell it there without a doctor’s prescription. It’s kind of a paternalistic system where you go to the pharmacy, tell them your symptoms, and then they tell you what they’re going to give you based on their opinion; you can’t just buy anything you want, which was frustrating.

It was a beautiful country to drive through, and my favorite part was through cork country (apparently a third of all the cork wood produced in the work comes from Portugal, which I had no idea before I saw all of it for myself). Didn’t take any pictures because I was driving for that stretch, but it kinda looked like this.

Getting to the airport today reminded me that there is a certain kind of fearlessness that local taxi drivers possess that I don’t necessarily aspire to, but I do respect and fear in equal measures.

#life #vacation #Portugal

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dandywonderous · 2 years

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I’m sick and I’m having a hard time getting myself motivated to do much so while I’m not really being all that productive I wanted to write about an idea for an Azul wump fic (with a side of AzuJami because I’m me) that I don’t think I will actually write out because it feels like it’s... too much? even for me? lol idk how to explain it. But it’s been in my head for like a month and I want to get it out so here it is.

CW for bullying, panic attacks, vomiting

Basically the idea centers around all those photos Azul was trying to get rid of.

They say Azul managed to get rid of all the pictures of himself other than the one hanging in the museum but that seems pretty impossible, given that he lives when the internet and smartphones are a thing (I am assuming the have them underwater somehow, it’s a place where magic is real they’d figure it out). Not only that but I think some of the pictures were probably not destroyed but there was a contract holding whoever had them back from publishing them in any way, and now all Azul’s contracts are gone.

SO.

I imagine that while Azul recognizes and appreciates the power of social media he also isn’t the kind of person who obsessively checks it; he goes through all his morning classes without really looking at his phone beyond his calendar and a few texts. He has no idea the storm that is coming for him.

Plenty of people see the photo first but it’s Cater who finally approaches him about it at lunch, because Cater and Azul do kind of know each other since he hangs out in the lounge (especially going off his anthology chapters with the octatrio) and I think Cater would want to say something if he saw it. And so Cater comes up to Azul while he’s eating, or maybe working on something, sitting by himself because the twins haven’t made it to the cafeteria for whatever reason.

He asks Azul if he’s looked at magicam this morning at all. Azul says he checked the activity on the Mostro Lounge account early but not since then. Cater is like GREAT GUESS I’M BEARING THE BAD NEWS...

So he shows Azul his phone, and the photo that is going around on Magicam of him... a picture of Azul’s back from when he was in his last year of elementary school, big and broad, with UGLY written across his shoulder blades in ink.

Azul hears ringing in his ears. He’s breathing too hard. He thought he got rid of that picture. He thought he got rid of it.

Azul tries to get up and ends up falling back onto the ground. Cater is like OH SHIT... he really didn’t expect for this to happen but now Azul is having a full blown panic attack in front of him and he doesn’t know how to handle that.

So he flags down Trey and Riddle, who are nearby. Trey’s in full big brother mode instantly, trying to calm Azul’s breathing and also making plans to get him out of the cafeteria because people are starting to stare and that’s not going to help. Once Azul isn’t hyperventilating anymore and is just dazed and confused he gets Cater to help him support Azul and get him out into the hallway; Riddle is meanwhile directing traffic and getting everyone to go about their business, nothing to see here.

Once they’re in the hallway and Azul is slumped in the floor against the wall Riddle is like CATER WHAT HAPPENED and Cater is like I JUST SHOWED HIM THIS... Trey is like YOU SHOWED HIM THAT WITHOUT WARNING? WELL HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW HE WOULD DO THAT and so on.

Meanwhile Azul is gaining some coherency again, a little confused why he’s in the hallway now and why the Heartslabyul guys are here and also feeling like he really needs to just get somewhere hidden and quiet because his octopus instincts are kicking in. He tries to get up and Trey is back in big bro mode again telling him to stay down because he’s shaking like a leaf.

Azul does not want to be here so he’s like I’m fine, I’m totally fine, I can get back to my dorm on my own. Riddle advises him strongly against that and tells Trey they should take him to the infirmary. Azul insists he’s fine again and gets to his feet, then promptly vomits and blacks out for a second, then Trey is supporting him and saying no you’re definitely going to the infirmary.

Cater is going “I’m so sorry Azul I didn’t know you’d have a panic attack!” Azul insists he didn’t because he doesn’t have panic attacks but they’re dragging him to the infirmary anyway. They get him there and explain what happened and once the nurses have him Trey texts Jade what’s going on.

Jade is off with Floyd, who knows what they were doing but he takes out his phone when he gets a text. Trey sent along an explanation of what happened to Azul as well as a screenshot of the magicam post, and Jade is pissed, because listen he always thought Azul’s attempts to get rid of every old picture of himself were kind of stupid but not when it came to pictures like this, and damn it didn’t he and Floyd threaten the guy who had this one themselves anyway?

He shows it to Floyd. Floyd is like hmm, guess we have someone to murder now. But that will have to wait because they need to figure out what to do about Azul.

So after a moment’s deliberation Jade decides to text Jamil about the situation too. I imagine at this point Azul and Jamil have been dating for awhile but not being very public about it, because Jamil is private and I think Azul would not want too many people to know he has a big hot weakness now. But of course the twins (and Kalim) know; they watched Azul pine after the guy since their freshmen year and it was obvious when the pining became mutual.

So Jade texts Jamil, knowing Azul will probably be mad at him for it later, but if anyone can calm Azul down it’s Jamil.

Jamil is at lunch with Kalim, they’re eating somewhere more quiet so he can spend part of lunch helping him do some final cramming for a test later. Jamil almost doesn’t bother looking at the text when he sees it’s from Jade, until he sees the picture Jade sent him.

Jamil by this point has only learned bits and pieces about why Azul overblotted. He knew about the contracts, of course, and that Leona destroying them is what kicked it off. He also knows that Azul used the contracts to “fix things about himself he wasn’t happy with,” though Azul never elaborated much beyond that. Azul didn’t really Jamil to know about the bullying or that he used to be overweight so he kept that under wraps.

So when Jamil sees the picture he’s a bit stunned, because he pieced together that Azul wasn’t treated very kindly as a kid but he hadn’t been expecting something like this.

He tells Kalim he has to go, tells him Azul is sick as a cover. He’s not sure what he plans to do exactly, maybe kill the guy who posted this if that’s what Azul wants, but he knows he needs to do something to fix it because he didn’t want to but he cares about Azul now and seeing something like this pisses him off on his behalf. And hearing that Azul is having panic attacks over it has him worried.

MEANWHILE Azul is in the infirmary and really really really does not want to be here. He doesn’t want anyone looking at him or talking about him, he just wants to get somewhere quiet and dark so he can hide until he figures out how he’s going to handle this situation. He would say it’s because it’s affecting his concentration but really his anxiety is just through the roof at this point.

So he comes up with some excuse, saying he really has to go to the restroom or something like that, so he can slip away when the nurse isn’t looking. Then he gets the hell out of there.

Soon after, Jade and Floyd arrive, only to learn that Azul has slipped away and no one knows where he went. He isn’t answering his phone or texts so that’s worthless. Jade calls Jamil to keep him abreast of the situation, and Jamil, who isn’t quite there yet, changes course because he thinks he knows where Azul went.

He books it to Octavinelle, not to Azul’s room or to his office, but to this giant decorative pot that is part of the decorations around Mostro Lounge. He remembers mentioning to Azul once that he used to hide in pots like that to escape his parents and Azul telling him that he used to do the same when he was having a bad day.

Jamil thinks he knows now what Azul really meant by that.

So he comes to the pot and he looks inside and there’s Azul, curled up with his arms over his knees. He’s crying. And when he realizes he’s being watched he flies into a rage, screaming at Jamil to leave him alone and go away.

But Jamil does not do that; instead he climbs up and over the edge and falls into the pot with Azul (the pot is really not big enough for two teenagers but he’s going to make it work damn it!)

So he squishes into the pot with Azul who is still pissed and still crying and he’s yelling about how Jamil must think he’s so ugly and stupid now and Jamil knows words aren’t going to get through to Azul right now but he needs to calm him down. So he catches one of Azul’s flailing hands and just holds onto it.

And it takes a few seconds but that gets Azul’s attention and he stops yelling and stares at their hands for a minute before asking, “Why are you here?”

And Jamil says, “You’re hurting, and I want to help you. Why else would I be here?”

And Azul just. collapses against Jamil and cries his little octobaby heart out, and tells him about what happened in the picture. About how he could feel them writing that word on him in class but if he alerted the teacher it would just get worse. About scrubbing it off afterward before he went home, so his mom wouldn’t see and get upset about it. About how he thought he’d gotten rid of the only copy so seeing it again and knowing others could see it had broken his confidence and sent him right back to that day again.

And in the end when he doesn’t have any more tears and he’s feeling pretty embarrassed about the whole thing Jamil says, “Soooo... want me to find the guy that posted it and kill him?”

And that gets him to laugh, and feel a little better, and he says he can surely find some other way of ruining his life that won’t end in Jamil going to jail, but that can be their plan b. And Jamil is happy that he got Azul to look less miserable, even if he knows he isn’t going to be back to normal Azul for a little while longer.

He also says they need to get out of the pot because his legs are going to sleep, and Azul says, “Yes, this is considerably less comfortable as a human than as an octopus.” and so they get out of the pot and go back to Azul’s room so they can get more comfy on the bed and Azul can just rest because he’s still exhausted from his panic attack earlier as well as all the crying. Jamil holds him and keeps up some light, meaningless conversation until he goes to sleep, so Azul knows he’s still there and he hasn’t chased him away. (Azul saw him at his worst and wasn’t chased away, after all.) And when Azul isn’t quite asleep but is still drowsy enough that Jamil will have plausible deniability, he tells Azul he’s beautiful, no matter what anyone says.

And Jamil knows that he’s still going to be competing against those voices for awhile, the ones that told Azul he was ugly and stupid and broke down his confidence. But he’ll take that as a challenge, and keep being with Azul, until he becomes the number one voice in his head, and the only one Azul needs.

#azujami #jamiazu #this got away from me #idk if this is even good #enjoy?? i guess???

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fragileizywriting · 2 years

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okay so this makes no sense but come on just stick with me right

okay so you haven’t seen your loved one in a long time. long long time. you eat and sleep and wake up alone in your bed, the bed you and your loved one made and took great care in building and every time your loved one thought you weren’t paying attention, they looked at you with hearts in their eyes, wondering how in fate’s name they managed this.

(they’re self concious, terrified of themselves and do their hardest not to look down at all of their scales or how tall (long?) they are in comparison to everyone else, and keep remembering how just miserable they were when they were younger, getting bullied from kids at school because of their differences. life was a lot easier above water when everyone just thought they were weird because of their dad homeschooling them until the equivalent american of highschool. no one actually knew.)

they think they’re really lucky to have you. and every stitch and every tuck they weaved into making the netted mattress that would hold you two up like a hammock, they made sure to count their blessings. this mattress is going to last for decades, in this little cave you both have decided to make a home into. fresh, close to family and the few friends you’ve accumulated while growing up…

but you’re sleeping alone right now. you have been for a while, because your partner promised their dad that they would get a “human education” degree before returning. just to have something to fall back on if anything were to fail. if you both needed to escape life and book it somewhere new. so you sleep, miserably, cuddled up and all alone. the bed is huge. the mattress barely shifts with just you in it, expecting a lot more weight. you become sick from loneliness, even though you’re always socializing with people… you start to get paler.

flash forward. you see your partner again, you sleep in the same bed. it’s instinctual for you to wrap them tight until they wheeze, but it’s hard for you to do that when you’ve got legs.

“i have an idea,” you tell them.

“you’re up to something.”

“why don’t we sleep without our sea legs?”

“without them? why? we wouldn’t fit on the bed—”

“you can fit on the bed. and i’ll sleep on you.” when they don’t respond to you, you smile, crawling closer and walking your fingers up their thigh. “don’t you miss being braided together?”

“of course i do.”

“i miss it so much. for months that’s all i could think about. you know i’ve always loved sleeping ontop if you. it always feels right.”

your love blushes. “but we’re not in the water. how are we going to do anything?”

“we’re adults. and newly married. we don’t have places to be, and it doesn’t take long for them to disappear again when we’re dry. let’s just do what we want for a bit. and i need to be scale to scale with you before i pass out from under stimulation.”

so you do. you both do. legs give way to long, perfect tails, nearly crushing the little wheels under the mattress the moment you both lay down. it’s a mess of fins, but it’s perfect, because you’ve missed them tracing circles into your back with their claws.

#speakizys #this didn’t go anywhere #just thinking about cuddles and bedtime #the usual on this blog #this is c’est la sea btw if you didn’t catch on

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joyandthephantoms · 2 years

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I wanna be the type you wanna lean on

1k, G, Carrie & Julie

Summary: Julie is sick. Carrie is trying her best.

on ao3

Carrie spends a lot of time thinking about herself.

Nearly all of her time, really, because even when she’s thinking about other people it’s still about her, still about determining how they’re perceiving her and how much of her energy they’re worth, figuring out how she wants them to see her and treat her and what steps she should take to accomplish that.

It might be the very worst thing about her.

She’s been thinking a lot lately about all of the worst things about herself, all her actual important flaws—not the things that make people look at her weird or that give off the impression that she doesn’t have her life perfectly together, but the things that made her ruin all her relationships and hurt everyone who matters, made her mean and petty and lonely because she spent years looking for attention when she should have been looking for connection.

And she’s trying to change; she’s making a real, honest effort at improving those things instead of trying to distract from them, which means she’s been trying to pay real attention to the people in her life, which means she’s noticed Julie is definitely sick, and she feels a little bit responsible for checking on her. She’s not sure how true either of those things would have been a few months ago.

Either way, though, Carrie can tell at lunch that something is off, and Flynn is out all day and Nick still gets nervous about any interaction with Julie that she doesn't initiate herself, so it's Carrie's job to make sure she's not about to keel over. But she doesn’t get a chance to say anything at lunch, and she and Julie don’t have any afternoon classes together, so she doesn’t see her again until they’re in the parking lot after school.

Carrie is about to wave her down when Julie sneezes hard and drops everything in her hands. Carrie catches up fast enough to grab Julie's travel mug and hand it back to her before it rolls too far away.

"Thanks," Julie says.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"I mean," Carrie says, "You've been in spaceland all day, and you look like you're dying, and Nick said you slept through half of Calc, so . . ."

"Oh my gosh, we had a quiz and I finished early," Julie says, "I didn't, like, sleep through a lecture or anything. And I'm going home now anyway, so you don't have to worry about anything."

"Sure, nothing besides you crashing your car."

"I'm not that sick," Julie protests.

"Honey, it's 85 degrees out and you're shivering. You look like you'd collapse if I flicked you. I'm driving."

"You didn't even–"

"I got a ride from Nick this morning, I'll just let him know he can drive home without me." Julie tries to protest again, and Carrie cuts her off. "You're not leaving me and Flynn to fend off a million reporters trying to get a scoop on your tragic death, okay?"

Carrie holds her hand out for the keys. Julie rolls her eyes, but she hands them over. "You're impossible."

"I'm a life-saver, thank you very much."

They make it to Julie's house easily, and Julie doesn't stop Carrie from following her inside, just kicks off her shoes and drops her backpack on the couch and mumbles that she'll be up in her room. Carrie nods and waves and then spends the next twelve minutes looking around for a thermometer and medicine, because she's still herself and she'd rather snoop through all the Molinas' cabinets than ask for help. She finds what she needs, though, and brings it all up to Julie's room with a glass of water.

She half expects Julie to have already fallen asleep, but she's sitting up in bed with her knees pulled close to her chest. "You didn't have to do this," she says, and Carrie doesn't even have time to tell her not to be stupid before Julie is crying.

And Carrie is so, so far out of her depth here—even when they were younger, even before Carrie became the worst version of herself, she’s never been good at comforting people. She doesn’t know if she has that kind of gentleness in her.

Still, though, Julie’s sobbing right in front of her, and she’s sick, and they’re alone, and Carrie isn’t going to pretend none of that is her problem. She wraps her arms around Julie and lets her cry, and she doesn’t try to fill the space with anything else.

“Everything hurts,” Julie says after she’s caught her breath a little. “And I’m glad you’re my friend.” That sets off another round of hiccup-y sobs, but they settle down faster this time.

Carrie runs her hand up and down her back, and says, “I’m glad, too.” And then, once Julie’s stopped crying for real, adds, “You’ll feel better if you sleep, right?”

“Yeah,” Julie says. “Thanks.”

“Do you want me to let your ghosts smother you, or should I go distract them so you can have some space?”

Julie thinks about it for a minute, then says, “No, band cuddles would be good,” so Carrie goes out to the studio to find them, and it’s honestly impressive how completely tangled together they manage to get in the space of time between when they poof into Julie’s room and when Carrie gets back there herself.

She shouldn’t be surprised. This is the way they are, impossible to pull apart from each other, so wrapped together with love that even death doesn’t stand a chance.

And there’s no point in Carrie trying to insert herself into that. She doesn’t stand a chance, either.

She goes back downstairs. She washes the dishes in the sink, just to have something to do, and she leaves a note for Mr. Molina so he’ll be caught up on how Julie’s doing when he gets home, and she’s halfway out the front door when Reggie catches her. “Oh, no, are you leaving?” they ask, and she looks so disappointed that it makes Carrie’s chest ache.

“I don’t think Julie needs four babysitters,” Carrie says. “And I have things to do, anyway.”

“Mhm.” Reggie’s not buying her shit for a second. “Well, I don’t wanna keep you from that, but I actually came down here because Julie was wondering where you’d gone, so, you know, maybe factor that in.”

Carrie’s chest still hurts. “Nick’s already on his way to get me.”

Reggie shrugs. “He can stay, too.”

And maybe it’s Julie rubbing off on her, but that’s what pushes Carrie over the edge, and she can’t do anything to stop tears from spilling down her cheeks.

“Aw, man,” Reggie says. “Hey, come here.” He pulls her into a hug, and Carrie buries her face in his chest.

After a minute, she pulls away and says, “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you.”

Reggie grins. “Yeah, a couple people tried that. It doesn’t seem to stick.” And then, “You’re coming back upstairs, right?”

And Carrie can’t think of a single good reason to say no anymore, so she doesn’t. She follows Reggie back up to Julie’s room full of love and warmth and family like she’s earned it, or like it doesn’t matter whether or not she earned it, as long as she takes care to cherish it.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #my writing

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