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livefastdrivefaster · 5 months

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My Other Half | CL16

Pairing: Charles x Reader

Summary: When Charles accidentally scares you, leading to him anxiously taking care of you. Complete fluff.

Word count: 900 words

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

An old Porsche was sitting in your garage. You managed to get it at a great deal, mainly because the car was close to falling apart. Almost every part needed replacing or some kind of work, and you were beginning to question if you should’ve just built a car from scratch at this point. But you weren’t opposed to the idea of a project, and you had been dreaming of owning this very car since you were young, so Charles stepped in to give you the best birthday present ever.

Because of how old the car was, the suspension was completely worn out. You decided to buy the necessary replacement parts and change it out yourself. You had worked on many cars before, so you weren’t afraid of the challenge, you just really needed to get this one right because the parts were astoundingly expensive. You were underneath the car, connecting the suspension parts to the undercarriage when Charles came home to your shared apartment.

Not finding you in the main apartment, he knew you were likely downstairs working on the Porsche. Your boyfriend always told you there were too many things about you that he loved to count, but he especially adored your passion for your arguably unique hobbies, but how amazing you were at it all too. You always blasted music through your headphones while working, so you didn’t hear Charles come down into the garage to see you. Seeing your legs peeking out from under the car, Charles smiled to himself, lowering himself to the floor to surprise you.

At the same time, you realised you had mistakenly grabbed the wrong size wrench for the bolt you were trying to loosen, and turned your head to look for the right tool lying somewhere near you.

You weren’t expecting to find a face an arm's length away from you. You screamed and instinctively shot up, hitting your head hard on the metal framework above you. Recognising the face as Charles, your body relaxed and you lowered yourself back to the ground, placing your hand over the part of your head that made contact with the car.

“Ah! Y/N, are you okay?” Charles called out, reaching his arm out to you.

You could only groan in pain as the initial shock of the hit wore off. Charles slides his body underneath the car to lie next to you, petting your head sympathetically.

“Can you move? Can I get you ice? How much does it hurt?” Charles blurted out his questions at a rapid-fire pace, and you could tell his voice was close to breaking from worry.

“I’m okay.” You say, giving him a weak smile before rolling out from beneath the car. He follows your movements, moving quickly in his desperation to get back to being next to you.

You sit together for a moment in silence, backs against the evil, pain-inducing Porsche. You hear Charles mumbling about ice before he jumps up from beside you.

“I’ll get ice, my love.” He says, darting off upstairs.

“You don’t have to, Charles, it really isn’t that bad!” You call after him.

It was. But you didn’t want to send Charles over the edge into a nervous breakdown. You hear some commotion from the kitchen, and the almost certain thud of Charles falling down a few stairs before your boyfriend appears next to you. He crouches down next to you, steadying himself with an arm placed beside your head, and gently places the cool ice on your forehead. You flinch from the harshness of the temperature, and Charles immediately withdraws from you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It’ll only sting for a moment, I promise.” He says quietly, slowly placing the ice back on your pain. You wince a little still, but forget about it all when he leans into you. The remnants of the cologne he applied this morning, mixed with the sweet smell of his post-gym skin filled your senses. You wish you could bottle his scent, and keep it in a locket around your neck forever. It was addicting, just as yours was to him.

“Mon preux chevalier (my valiant knight).” You sighed. He smiled at you shyly, before dropping his arm beside your head to cusp your face.

“I am no knight, I did this to you.” He says, concerned eyes darting between yours, rubbing circles into your cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah, sneaking up on me was pretty stupid, huh?” You say, half-suppressing a cheeky smile.

“Oh,” he says slowly, catching onto your joke, “not my fault you get all jumpy around me, hm? Almost like you have a crush on me, yeah?”

“Just a little one.” You say, giggling lightly.

His cool complexion breaks at this, unable to stop the soft laugh bursting up his chest, born from the heart you warmed with your mere presence. The moment is brief, but encompassing. Despite the years you had spent with Charles, every day felt like the first night of a young couple’s honeymoon. Giddy and loving.

“Does it hurt still?”

“Not at all.”

He tentatively removed the ice from your head, his green eyes glimmering in the golden light of the dying day. Slowly, ever so slowly, he encompassed your body in his own, leaning down to place the most gentle of kisses on your hairline.

“Ma moitié”

(My other half)

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #ferrari f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles x reader #leclerc #leclerc x reader #cl16 imagine #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc imagine

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snakeautistic · 5 months

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One of the reasons I believed I couldn’t be autistic for so long was due to a fundamental misunderstanding of my social struggles. This being that I am not by any means incapable of memorizing social rules. Through observation and direction I can construct a broad framework of ‘socially acceptable or not.’ For example, I’m well aware that making physical contact with someone without consent isn’t acceptable. Or that stating blunt facts in a way that implicates someone negatively isn’t allowed. I know to avoid interrupting others if they’re already talking, to not walk away when I’m in the middle of a conversation. Crying, being unusually quiet and frowning indicates sadness. Someone smiling at laughing at what you’re saying means they probably are enjoying their time with you. An increase in speaking volume indicates excitement- either positive or negative. Sarcasm is often indicated by someone saying something absurd that you know they would never say, or you know to be factually wrong.

The fact that I had learned these broad rules made me think autism wasn’t a possibility for me. But being autistic doesn’t stop you from obtaining and applying information. (I mean that’s why so many interventions that ‘treat’ autism do result in the autistic person being able to pass as neurotypical.)

The difference comes from lacking the subconscious nuances and exceptions that come with those broader rules. For example- when is it okay to actually be honest? Some people will not be bothered by physical intimacy- but how would I know this? How can you tell if a group wants you to join in with their conversation? How to tell if this person is smiling and laughing politely or genuinely? How to tell if someone who you know very little about is being sarcastic?

There are not direct, easy to apply ‘rules’ for this, and yet clearly there are ‘right’ options. When the appropriate reaction must be determined by subtle body language or small shifts in tone of voice, ones that are near impossible to teach- I become completely lost.

That’s something I always find lacking with the general social skills advice given. It’s helpful to a point, but the truth is everyone is an individual. People express themselves differently, and react to your same actions differently due to past circumstances or temperaments. There is no one set of rules you can use for everyone, unfortunately. The majority of neurotypicals, while of course having miscommunications and the like, can rely on their subconscious to parse out any subtle changes they might need to make to their demeanor for a particular situation. My brain is much less adept at focusing down broader experience/rules into unique circumstances. (This is actually something that extends past social cues for me and I might make another post talking about it because I think it’s interesting)

Anyway rant over but yeah this was a huge mental barrier to seeking out a diagnosis for a while because at some level I ( ironically enough) took struggling to understand social cues too literally…

#actually autistic #autism #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #autistic #autistic things #autistic traits #autistic thoughts #low support needs #LSN autistic #social cues #socializing #social skills #asd #neurodivergence #autistic experiences #autism spectrum

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escherbug · 1 year

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YEAR OF THE GRUB: JANUARY

Project: Needle Felting with Wire Armature

CRAFT STORE RUNS: 2

(The sleepy but patient Lt. for scale)

This year I started a Master's Degree program in Entomology. I wanted to make sure I was still making fun things while I'm so busy (mostly reading papers and books), so I arranged a set of media-based projects centered around my favorite insect (scarab grubs), trying to complete the project by the end of the month.

I didn't quite make it this time because I ran out of supplies a couple times and made the project a good deal harder for myself than I thought, but I think that's okay. This is just for me, after all.

STEP BY STEP:

First, I used sculpting wire and a pair of pliers to twist the skeleton of the grub. I wanted to be able to move all the legs and the main line of the body. I thought I'd be able to get an easier anchor in on the felt if I covered the hard wires with pipe cleaners, but I was pretty much wrong about that.

Next, I felted a bunch of spare roving into the general shape I wanted, and felted the head and the back end of the grub on in brown. I also hand-sewed six little socks to cover the wires on the legs and secured them as well as I could to the rest of the body so they won't fall off at random. This came out messier than I'd have liked, but I think also that I should cut myself some slack for having designed and patterned most of this on the fly.

Next came felting on the bulk of the fatty, cream colored body of the grub. Part of the reason I didn't end up making my deadline was that I ran out of white/off-white wool roving, and was unable to find it in stock at any stores, so I had to order it online and wait for it to arrive in the mail (it absolutely did and honestly, the new stuff from Shepswool.com is way softer than the wool I was using and a softer color, so it was well worth the wait).

From here, mainly all that was left was detail work. I didn't get a ton of photos of this because all these steps ended up being my Sunday (day of posting), but I used a finer wire, the same pliers, and super sculpey to make gently posable antennae, mandibles, a clypeus and labrum (as well as a pair of maxillae that absolutely did not show up in the end, just much too small), baked the clay on the wires and then affixed them to the existing framework I'd set up on the head for most of the face. The mandibles are attached to the antennae, so they move together, and the clypeus/labrum and maxillae are held on by the wires supporting the mandibles. I also glued on some cute little eyes that came standard with my felting gear.

All that was left at this point was final detail work-- I didn't feel like embroidering on a ton of hairs in the end, but I embroidered on some spiracles and felted those little sclerotized buts near the head.

And voila! A needle-felted beetle grub about the size of a small ferret. Wouldn't it be nice if we had more grubs around this size?

Further notes:

1) it's nice to be making something big enough for once while felting that I didn't stab my fingers constantly! I only stabbed myself like twice.

2) I bought a multi-needle felting tool for this, but I didn't really find it helped much beyond having a safety cover. It was also super noisy to work with, so I ended up going back to using a single felting needle halfway through.

Catch you at the end of this month, hopefully having completed my February project: WATERCOLOR ILLUSTRATION!

#i get excited about bugs #year of the grub #YEAR OF THE GRUB 2023 #escherbug art #needle felting #felting #soft sculpture #beetle #coleoptera #scarabaeidae

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uncanny-tranny · 3 months

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The interesting thing about medically transitioning is how you might just be treated with the wrong framework.

When I get my hormone levels checked, for instance, they check it against the wrong type of person, so everything is flagged. Did you know that testosterone encourages hemoglobin production? Well, my hemoglobin is perfectly in line with male levels, but my levels are checked for the wrong endocrine system. Before I realized this, I was really confused as to why my hemoglobin was two grams over the range given, and was confused as to why that happened, and worried about if I should be worried about that. But it was a normal consequence of my testosterone levels, which are also flagged though they are well-within the range that is typical for my age and health categories.

The way we treat and measure for trans people and trans patients will affect the treatment and education they receive. There are ways in which hormones especially can influence how one's body operates, and with that in mind, you also have to change the way you interact with a trans person. With my testosterone levels, if you were to measure them against the incorrect endocrine system, you would fail to treat me in reality - that being the way my body has changed and maintained homeostasis since being on T.

#trans #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq #ftm #mtf #nonbinary #trans medicine #i still need to get my levels checked but i've been busy #but since going on T they have been very satisfactory #like even going 'they should go on assigned sex' wouldn't work for somebody like me.#like. i am still on testosterone. and it's changed me and my body. therefore the way i am treated and measured ought to reflect that #hemoglobin is a fun word to say though. try it. say it. out loud. say it (are you afraid.)#i use myself again as an example because i think that experience perfectly encapsulates my frustrations

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venusgirltarot · 1 year

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What Would An Album About You Sound Like?

Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

Close your eyes, take a deep breath, envision the person you are thinking of and then choose the pile(s) you feel most drawn to.

Pile One

Ahhh okay this is so cute. Im going to try to explain this as best as I can, Pile 1. So this seems like a concept album. The idea of the album (not the sound but idea ya know) reminds me of “Melodrama” by Lorde. I’ll leave a quote here for a better description but it’s like a concept album about a single night

“Melodrama is described as a loose concept album that explores the theme of solitude, in the framework of a single house party with the events and moods that entail it”

The album about you is similar in the sense that it’s a “loose concept album” but it’s about the writer seeing you. It’s like you’re at this party that the songwriter is also at and they’re obsessed from the moment they lay eyes on you. You’re like this beautiful unobtainable being to them and they want to get to know you so bad but they just can’t seem to talk to you. This could also progress to a one night stand that never progresses to more because of a lack of communication to this album is going through the writer meeting you and watching you throughout the night and then goes into their regrets and what they wish they would have said to you the next day, if that makes sense.

They see you at a party and think you’re so beautiful but can’t seem to find the words to tell you that. I keep hearing “I like the way my bedsheets look on your body” from “hello!” By role model. (I believe that’s the right song but lmk if it’s wrong so I can fix it!) and I keep being reminded of this musician on TikTok “Chappell Roan” and their song “Red Wine Supernova” I think that’s similar to what this album would sound like and it also fits the aesthetic. I highly recommend you listen to this song because it fits your album so perfectly. I tried to find a lyric that resonates the best to include but they all work so well that I couldn’t choose.

Despite this entire album being about only you and just one night leading into the next morning, it’s still so diverse (I hope that makes sense) like you’d think there’s only so many songs you could write about a 12ish hour time frame and one person but this writer has endless things to say about you and the night you met them. I could see one song having a feature and it’s later in the album somewhere between tracks 7-12 or so. The aesthetic of the album is very neon lights, the dance floor on prom night after everything has died down and people are starting to go home, slow, melodramatic and just really pretty. Again, I highly recommend you check out “Red Wine Supernova” because it fits so well.

Track list:

1. Pretty

2. Blooming

3. missing you

4. Shinning Eyes

5. Dying Slow

6. Party Streamers

7. Old Fashioned (Feat. Another Artist)

8. Starlight

9. Nova’s Surprise

10. Sunset

11. morning after

12. You

Pile Two

Pile two, your album sounds like one written by Hozier, Noah Kahan or The Lumineers. It reminds me a lot of “Angela” by The Lumineers. Specifically the lyric “Angela, spent your whole life running away” and “vacancy, hotel room, lost in me, lost in you” it also reminds me of Ethel Cain in the sense that it’s a concept album about running away and starting a new life (but not as dark as ethel’s and with a much better outcome than she got. I heard “success story” it’s about leaving behind a difficult past and moving forward. There’s hope for the future in these songs, remembrance of the past and healing trauma. It’s a beautiful album with a good balance of different emotions. I could see this album coming with a short film or a series of music videos that piece together to tell a store. Similar to “III” by the Lumineers.

I keep hearing a few snippets from the deluxe version of “Stick Season” (that will be out June 9th 👀) like “Medicate meditate swear your soul to Jesus / Throw a punch fall in love give yourself a reason” or “we ain’t angry at you love, you’re the greatest thing we’ve lost” it’s such a beautiful album with so much soul and emotion.

I could see this album getting an acoustic live version that artists do sometimes like “Album, live from Wherever” you know? This album has very unique and catchy lyrics that stick with people, the type of lyrics people take and sell on things in their Etsy shop or use as a quote in their yearbook or put in their instagram bio. It almost feels like poetry. I also heard “escapism” this is the type of music that paints a picture and takes you somewhere else. This album will kind of chronologically tell a story about you moving forward and healing from trauma and finding a peaceful ending. Ending with a song like “Angelia”

Track list

1. movement

2. Adelaide’s Interlude

3. mother

4. farmhouse

5. leave me behind

6. baby blue

7. mustang

8. you’re gonna go far

9. more than this

10. peace

11. at your own pace

12. growing pains

13. at last

Pile Three

I feel like this album has a soft rock sort of sound? Like hozier with a rockier edge if that makes sense? It reminds me of the way hozier sings about love. He sings about a very deep and impactful love and his writing his like poetry and I think that’s what an album about you would sound like. I think this album could be about the writer/musician fighting feelings for you because they’re focused on career or are just concerned about the outcome of the relationship. They might have a fear of falling or something.

However, the last card I pulled was the 10 of cups so the outcome is very good. I feel like this album is coming from a reflective place like this is after yourself and your spouse have settled down and had kids or pets or whatever you would like and your partner is looking back at your relationship from the very beginning up until now and writing about it.

I keep hearing “I’m in love with an emo girl” I don’t think this is what the album will sound like but maybe that’s your aesthetic/vibe? This might just be conformation for you. I also keep hearing that Shania Twain song “you’re still the one” this is the kind of album that fans would dissect like narrow down the time you met your person and talk about every lyric and how that lyric relates to you and your relationship etc. this album talks about how devoted and in love with you your person is but also talks about the (I heard “trials and tribulations”) it took for you two to get there so it may include religious reference. Like religion by Lana Del Rey or Don’t Blame Me by Taylor Swift where there’s this slight aspect of religion/devotion to your partner.

You hear a lot about how you have to actively choose your partner everyday to make a long term relationship work and this album would definitely delve into that a little. It could also be produced by you and your partner’s mutual friends or people who have been there since the beginning or very early in in your relationship. I think this would be a longer album and there’s definitely 18+ songs on there 👀

Track list

1. October

2. Cosmic

3. Full Moon

4. Bourbon Street

5. She’s All Over Me

6. Starla

7. The Empress

8. Diamond Eyes

9. Find More of Me

10. Dreamscape

11. Escapades

12. Midnight

13. You’re All I Need

14. Mirror

15. Apartment 32

16. Deep End

17. Eternity

#free tarot readings #free readings #tarot cards #tarotblr #tarot reader #spirituality #tarotcommunity #tarot related #paid readings #tarot #love tarot reading

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caspercryptid · 1 month

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Dungeon Meshi as Monster Culture

-jeffrey jerome cohen as a framework for dungeon meshi

i. The Monsters Body is a cultural body

Vampires, burial, death: inter the corpse where the road forks...it will haunt that place that leads to many other places, that point of indecision...The monster is born only at this metaphoric crossroads, as an embodiment of a certain cultural moment—of a time, a feeling, and a place

ii. The Monster Always Escapes

We see the damage that the monster wreaks, the material remains...but the monster itself turns immaterial and vanishes, to reappear someplace else.

No monster tastes of death but once... Each time the grave opens and the unquiet slumberer strides forth("come from the dead, / Come back to tell you all"), the message proclaimed is transformed by the air that gives its speaker new life...monstrous interpretation is as much process as epiphany, a work that must content itself with fragments (footprints, bones, talismans, teeth, shadows, obscured glimpses—signifiers of monstrous passing that stand in for the monstrous body itself).

iii. The Monster Is the Harbinger of Category Crisis

The monster always escapes because it refuses easy categorization...they are disturbing hybrids whose externally incoherent bodies resist attempts to include them in any systematic structuration. And so the monster is dangerous, a form suspended between forms that threatens to smash distinctions.

The too-precise laws of nature as set forth by science are gleefully violated in the freakish compilation of the monster's body.

Full of rebuke to traditional methods of organizing knowledge and human experience, the geography of the monster is an imperiling expanse, and therefore always a contested cultural space

iv. The Monster dwells at the gate of difference

The monster is difference made flesh, come to dwell among us... the monster is an incorporation of the Outside, the Beyond—of all those loci that are rhetorically placed as distant and distinct but originate Within.

Representing an anterior culture as monstrous justifies its displacement or extermination by rendering the act heroic..A political figure suddenly out of favor is transformed like an unwilling participant in a science experiment by the appointed historians of the replacement regime: "monstrous history" is rife with sudden, Ovidian metamorphose

History itself becomes a monster: defeaturing, self-deconstructive, always in danger of exposing the sutures that bind its disparate elements into a single, unnatural body.

V: The Monster polices the borders of the possible

From its position at the limits of knowing, the monster stands as a warning against exploration of its uncertain demesnes...curiosity is more often punished than rewarded, that one is better off safely contained within one's own domestic sphere than abroad, away from the watchful eyes of the state

To step outside this official geography is to risk attack by some monstrous border patrol or (worse) to become monstrous oneself.

The horribly fascinating loss of Lycaon's humanity merely reifies his previous moral state; the king's body is rendered all transparence, instantly and insistently readable. The power of the narrative prohibition peaks in the lingering description of the monstrously composite Lycaon, at that median where he is both man and beast, dual natures in a helpless tumult of assertion. The fable concludes when Lycaon can no longer speak, only signify.

Whereas monsters born of political expedience and self-justifying nationalism function as living invitations to action, usually military (invasions, usurpations, colonizations), the monster of prohibition polices the borders of the possible, interdicting through its grotesque body some behaviors and actions, envaluing others.

victims are devoured, engulfed, made to vanish from the public gaze: cannibalism as incorporation into the wrong cultural body.

vi: Fear of the monster is really a kind of desire

The monster is continually linked to forbidden practices, in order to normalize and to enforce. The monster also attracts. The same creatures who terrify and interdict can evoke potent escapist fantasies; the linking of monstrosity with the forbidden makes the monster all the more appealing as a temporary egress from constraint

Escapist delight gives way to horror only when the monster threatens to overstep these boundaries, to destroy or deconstruct the thin walls of category and culture. When contained by geographic, generic, or epistemic marginalization, the monster can function as an alter ego, as an alluring projection of (an Other) self. The monster awakens one to the pleasures of the body, to the simple and fleeting joys of being frightened, or frightening—to the experience of mortality and corporality

The habitations of the monsters ...are more than dark regions of uncertain danger: they are also realms of happy fantasy, horizons of liberation.

the scapegoated monster is perhaps ritually destroyed in the course of some official narrative, purging the community by eliminating its sins. The monster's eradication functions as an exorcism and, when retold and promulgated, as a catechism

vii: The monster stands at the threshold of becoming

Monsters are our children. They can be pushed to the farthest margins of geography and discourse, hidden away at the edges of the world and in the forbidden recesses of our mind, but they always return.

And when they come back, they bring not just a fuller knowledge of our place in history and the history of knowing our place, but they bear self-knowledge, human knowledge—and a discourse all the more sacred as it arises from the Outside. These monsters ask us how we perceive the world, and how we have misrepresented what we have attempted to place.

They ask us to reevaluate our cultural assumptions about race, gender, sexuality, our perception of difference, our tolerance toward its expression.

They ask us why we have created them

#dungeon meshi #Technically there's not spoilers for the manga but I think if you read the manga you'll get more out of this #laois touden #Marcille donato #falin touden #the canaries dungeon meshi #the canaries #senshi of izganda #thistle #thistle dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #delicious #delicious in dungeon

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burrow-ix · 6 months

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Snooze

Summary: A late night drive through downtown Cincinnati after a rough day at work helps your blossoming relationship with Tee become even more serious.

Warnings: just straight up sickening fluff; allusions to a potential spicy part 2 👀 and it’s also just really freaking long so 😅

Also, thank you again @balanceingrace for helping with framework and helping me love this story again. I love you always🤍

You shuffle into your little house after an extremely long and busy shift at the hospital, throwing your purse lord knows where and your shoes in the general vicinity of the little shoe rack by the door.

You loved your job, but a day like today made you want to break down and never go back. It was one thing after the other, difficult patients, difficult family members, there was no time for time management, and not to mention losing a patient halfway through the day. That was your straw, but you had no choice but to swallow back the tears and keep moving.

You peel off your scrubs after slugging off to your bedroom, and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Your mind was numb, your body was numb.

After a few minutes, you finally slide off the bed and go into the bathroom to take a shower, the borderline scorching heat of the water soothing your achy, and extremely tense muscles. You let a couple tears slip out but you always tried to make sure you didn’t bring work home with you, because that would just make your job and home life worse. You refused to combine the two.

You step out of the shower and quickly dry yourself off and half ass-ly drying your hair. You realized once you started that you quite frankly didn’t care. You slip on an oversized shirt and panties before slipping into your bed, the tears wanting to flow but you wouldn’t let them. You just took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling once again.

Your brain started running 100 miles a minute. Replaying the day in your head, if this was what you still want you wanted to do for the rest of your life, what tomorrow what was going to consist of, your relationship with Tee that has become VERY serious recently, the big black hole in the middle of our galaxy. You know, all the things.

At one point, you turn over and the clock read 10:47pm.

“Oh shit” you groan. You had laid here for an hour and a half just thinking. You wanted to go to sleep but you couldn’t shut your brain off.

Your phone dings and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You lazily picked up your phone off of your nightstand, and it was almost like your favorite person read your mind.

Tee 🤍

wanna go on a drive?

You smile at the text, your heart that has been cold most of the day flooding with warmth almost instantly and a couple tears make their way down your cheeks. It’s like he knew, he had that instinct of needing to take care of you, and that’s what he was going to do.

(Y/N)

how did you know I needed that?

Tee🤍

bc I know you

I need to see you and I feel like you need to see me

I was just hoping you were up since it’s way past gma’s bed time 😉

You roll your eyes, that smile not leaving your face. You did normally go to bed at 8:30pm. You loved your sleep, who doesn’t? But he loved to make fun of you for it.

(Y/N)

I do need to see you, really bad.

come get me

Tee🤍

on my way baby

You take another deep breath, not only thanking Joe and Olivia for introducing you two but thanking God for placing Tee into your life. The longer you guys have been together, the more he knows you, how you operate, which faces mean certain feelings, even as much as knowing when something is wrong even when he’s apart from you. It was the little things.

You throw on a pair of biker shorts and a long sleeve. It was fall time and temp was in the 60s. It was beautiful outside lately.

You fix your hair as best you can, still keeping it up but making it look like you weren’t just about to go to bed. 15 minutes later, Tee texts you saying that he had just pulled in and you throw some shoes on before heading out of the house.

You walk down to his car and open the door, leaning down to peek at him. He smiles at you, one arm leaning on the console and the other resting on the steering wheel and you couldn’t help but match his smile.

“Hey you” you say.

“Hey you” he repeats, his smile radiating. His smile killed you. It was so bright, so genuine. He was someone who was genuine. Very kind hearted and caring. You adored him.

You climbed into the passenger seat and made eye contact once again. You two look at each other for a moment before he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and then on your lips.

You pull away a few moments later and bump your nose against his, smiling like a love sick puppy. The way he makes your mood change instantly still blows your mind.

“Missed you” he murmurs.

“I’ve missed you too” your voice cracks, not intentionally, but those tears were making their way back. Little did you know that you just needed him to help you feel better.

“I knew something was up, what’s wrong?” He asks, resting his hand on your thigh, his eyebrows furrowed as he watches the tears form in your eyes.

“It was just my day. I can tell you while you drive” you assure him.

“Driving can wait” he gives your thigh a squeeze.

“No Tee, it’s okay. I’ll be over it by tomorrow. Just go ahead and drive, for me, please?” You quietly beg. He stares at you for a moment before nodding and backing out of your driveway.

You two ride in silence for awhile before you tuck a foot under you, getting comfortable since who knew how long you two were going to be driving around for. At one point, the air was getting colder and you were getting cold but you didn’t want to say anything because you were enjoying the windows down.

Tee easily read your body language so at the next red light, he put the car in park and unbuckled before slipping his hoodie off and handing it to you.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m fine” you smile at him as he buckles himself again.

“No you’re not. Can’t have my girl freezing” he smiles back before hitting the gas as the light turns green. You roll your eyes and throw his hoodie on, sneakily smelling his cologne.

Tee’s hand slides onto your thigh, giving it a nice squeeze. You smile over at him and you rub your hand up and down his tattooed arm. Sexy ass.

“Do you want to talk about your day now?” He asks, glancing over at you. You let out a deep sigh before starting to explain one thing after the other, and he listened attentively, he was a very good listener and you were thankful, especially on the days where you needed to rant.

“….and everything just piled on top of each other and it became almost unbearable. I tried to wind down so I could go to sleep and just forget about today but my brain wouldn’t shut the fuck up” you let out a huff of annoyance and he quietly chuckles at the last part.

“First off, I wanna say how much of a badass you are. I could never do what you do in a day. That’s a hell of a lot of brain power to use and energy that I don’t have”

“You’re a fucking wide receiver, Tee, you have a lot of both of those things” you giggle.

“But it’s different, you know what I’m sayin’? Like you are having to keep people alive, some you can’t help and it was written in the cards from when they were even thought of. But you are so fucking brave and so strong to do what you do everyday. I hope you know how badass you are, because seriously, you are and I admire you for it every single day” he looks over at you as he arrives at another stop light.

Your heart floods with a familiar feeling you’ve experienced honestly since you started dating Tee but you kept pushing it off because you didn’t want to believe it so early but it was happening; hell, it happened already, you fell in love with him, truly, madly, deeply. It was pathetic.

He was the most generous and loving person. He was supportive and encouraging in everything you did. Always looking out for you, checking on you, making sure you feel beautiful always. You were his queen, his number one, other than his Momma, and rightfully so.

You’ve had a few serious relationships over the years but all of those men turned out to be trash and honestly gave you trust issues but this was different in only the best way possible. You saw a future with Tee, even after this short time that felt like a lifetime.

Not to mention he was a hottie. His handsome face, that stunning smile, his tall and muscular frame, his tattoos; the man was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome.

Tee glanced over at you, feeling your eyes on him, he gives you his bright smile that makes you want to squeeze him tightly and never let him go.

You love him.

“You want to tell me what’s on your mind right now? Did I say something wrong?” He asks, turning his eyes back to the road, a small and almost worried smile gracing his face.

And speaking of heart racing, yours was about to beat out of your chest at what was spilling out of your mouth.

“I love you” you breathe out.

Tee’s heart could about explode. He’s been so scared to say it, afraid of how you would react when he would say those exact three words to you. He honestly fell for you a lot sooner than you fell for him but that was another story for another time.

“I am so glad you said that, because I love you too” he says, his smile the brightest it’s ever been.

“I really need a damn stop light because I need to kiss you so bad right now” you say and he laughs.

“Hold on, I gotchu”

He turns onto a different street and the light turned yellow and he slowly comes to a stop, placing the car in park and looking over at you.

“Thank you Jesus” you breathe out and grab his face, smashing your lips against his. You two smiled against each other’s lips, thinking about how you both finally made the long awaited confession.

Then to make it even more perfect, “Snooze” by SZA comes on shuffle. You two finally pull away from each other, not without another sweet kiss from Tee.

“I fucking love you” he says just above a whisper. Your stomach was doing backflips. Just hearing him say those words meant the world to you.

“And I love you” you smile.

He gives you one more firm but tender kiss before he shifts the car back into drive as the light turns green.

That just happened.

When you first started dating Tee, “Snooze” was y’all’s vibe, and still is. You dreamt about him. There was never a moment where you wanted to be somewhere else. He made you feel so important, so wanted, cared for, loved.

Everything in this moment couldn’t have been more perfect. This song playing as you two drove through mildly quiet downtown Cincinnati, windows down, the cooler air slipping into the car, nipping your skin but in a comforting way.

The sky was clear so despite the city lights, you could still see the beautiful stars in the sky. The man you loved to the left of you, his tattooed hand on your thigh, you wearing his hoodie, and both finally saying out loud that you loved each other. Your heart was surely the size of both of your lungs combined at this point. Every bad thing that happened today vanished from your brain like it never even happened. This was what heaven looked like to you.

He must have felt this moment too because his hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Long as you dreamin' 'bout me, ain't no problem

I don't got nobody, just with you right now

Tell the truth, I look better under you

I can't lose when I'm with you

How can I snooze and miss the moment?

You just too important

Nobody do body like you do”

“Damn” Tee murmurs and shakes his head.

“What?” You ask.

“You…the way you make me feel. It’s just wild” he says, full on blushing and you couldn’t help but blush in return.

“Quit Tee” you smile down at your clasped hands.

“You quit” he chuckles.

“Ain't a home when you not here

Hard to grow when you not here, I'm sayin'

I can't lose when I'm with you”

“You should stay over tonight” he glances over at you with hopeful eyes.

“Teeee” you sigh.

“Please? It’ll kill me to take you home tonight” he juts his bottom lip out.

“That’s very dramatic” you giggle and flick his lip.

“It’s not dramatic. I don’t wanna take you home, especially now” he says, squeezing your thigh. You smile sadly and rest your head on his arm, your mind already working to figure something out. You didn’t want him to take you home either.

After another half an hour or so, he pulls back up to your house. He leans his head back onto the head rest and looks at you, his eyes sad.

“Don’t look at me like that, Tee” you whine.

“I don’t want you to leave. It’s been a week and I miss you” he sighs, looking down at your hands intertwined, his thumb rubbing back and forth on your hand.

“You’ll see me at the game this weekend” you tell him but he still didn’t like that. You wanted to play a little hard to get now.

He turns his head back, looking forward. You knew he was pouting.

“Tee”

You sigh when he doesn’t answer you. His hand still rested on your thigh as you watched him. You get an idea.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and climb over the console and into his lap, straddling his hips. He looks up at you, eyes widened slightly. He gave you a quick glance up and down before his eyes meeting yours as you speak up.

“Can I suggest something?” You ask and he hums.

“I would stay at your place, but I have stuff to do here tomorrow, stuff that I could get done while you’re at practice. So what if we stayed at my place tonight? I know it’s not as nice as y-“

“Okay” he smiles, his hands running up your thighs and holds onto your hips.

“Okay?”

“Okay. But I might have to run home to grab stuff for tomorrow, if that’s okay?”

“Well yeah, of course, whatever you need to do. Are you sure it’s okay?” You ask running yours hands up and down his shoulders.

“More than okay. I don’t care where we stay, as long as you’re there” he smiles again and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“And then I could stay with you this weekend?” You suggest.

“Absolutely” he nods.

You wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your face into neck.

“I’ve also missed you” you say, pressing gentle kisses onto his neck, your breath sending chills down his spine. He wraps his arms around you tightly in a hug. He couldn’t get enough of you, ever.

“I’m going to go home and grab my iPad for our meetings and grab more clothes so I can stay a couple days, okay?” He asks, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Okay”

“That okay with you?”

“More than okay with me” you kiss his lips multiple times, him giving you a loving and healthy smack to the ass before you crawl out of his lap and out of the car.

“I’ll be back. I love you” he smiles. God, it felt so good for him to say that, and it felt so good for you to hear it.

“I love you. Be careful” you smile back, giving him another kiss before shutting his door and making your way back into the house.

Holy shit. What a day.

45 minutes later, as you laid on the couch, you get a knock on your door.

“Damn it” you curse under your breath as you hop off the couch and run to the door. You accidentally locked the door out of habit.

You unlock the door and open it to be greeted by Tee who had a bookbag on his shoulder and a duffel bag hanging by his side.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to lock it” you say grimacing.

“Don’t want me to stay, huh?” He smirks pushing his body up against yours, backing you further into your living room, shutting the door behind him.

“Don’t you start being dramatic again. You know I want you to stay. I want you to stay all the time” you cock an eyebrow at him, sliding your hands up his arms and around his neck as he drops his bags.

“Mhm” he hums as he presses his lips to yours, his tongue making its way into your mouth, giving you all the feels.

Tee’s hands slide from your hips to your ass, squeezing it with his large hands. You moan into his mouth and he presses his hands into your ass so your hips press into his.

After a couple minutes of your make out sesh in the middle of your living room, he pulls away slightly, his breath fanning your face. He must have brushed his teeth before coming back over to your house because you tasted and smelled mint.

“You make me feel…insane” he says.

“Is that a good or bad thing?” You ask and he smiles at you.

“So good” he chuckles, reattaching your lips for a few more minutes before you break away again.

“As much as I want to continue this, it’s so late and you’re gonna hate yourself in the morning if you don’t go to sleep” you breathe out.

“You right. Tomorrow, after I get back?” He smirks.

“If you’re lucky” you shrug, giggling at his expression.

“I’m very lucky, damn it” he says nuzzling his face into your neck making you laugh.

“Let’s go to bed, you exhaust me” you sigh, walking past him towards your bedroom.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, baby” he says, giving a harsh smack to your ass as he walks behind you.

“Tee!” You gasp and he smiles innocently.

You two eventually get changed into more comfortable clothes and get comfy in bed, your back pressed against his front, his long arms wrapped around you and his face nuzzled into your neck, mumbling “I love you’s” to each other that still didn’t feel real.

And that’s when he starts to slowly hum a melody that you both listened to earlier in the night, allowing you to relax and finally drift to sleep.

I can't lose when I'm with you.

How can I snooze and miss the moment?

You just too important.

Nobody do body like you do, you do.

#tee higgins #teeeeee #tee is everything #cincinnati bengals #nfl #joe burrow #tee higgins fic #fluffy #fanfic #tee higgins x reader #joe burrow fan fic

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irisbleufic · 13 hours

Text

REVIEW

Gatsby: An American Myth (Welch, Chavkin, Bartlett, Majok, & Tayeh; American Repertory Theater)

Something that most adaptations of Gatsby get wrong, whether film or stage, is the treatment of characters as archetypes rather than individuals. Symbolism drowns out most genuine attempts at capturing emotional connections and conflicts of personality. They forget that this story is not only a failure of the so-called American Dream; first and foremost, it’s a tragedy of failed roles and relationships. Almost every one of the players is attempting to be someone they are not, and even as they reach for what they believe they should want, they reveal with increasing fervor what they actually want. This is the heart of what makes Welch’s new adaptation so devastatingly, disarmingly unique, so true to its source.

The set design is literal wreckage. Crushed and warped automobile chassis scaffold the moving staircases, and concealed trap doors. The backdrop shows no clear incorporation of the infamous Eckleburg billboard; rather, it is made up of a dotted grid resembling headlights. These play out effects ranging from a downpour to camera flashes to, briefly and only once, a pair of eyes that make no effort to hide behind the owlish frames of glasses. The only thing infusing this jagged framework with meaning is the people who move through it.

The lighting design works with the set’s incongruences, deepening or excavating shadows as needed. The brightness, when it flares, is blinding. Jewel tones either enhance or diminish a costuming scheme that is composed of either very pale or very dark shades, no in between. And whether it’s the post-apocalyptic black and gray cabaret garb of the ensemble or the wealthy protagonists’ pale suits or the gunmetal and gray denizens of the wasteland, everyone’s trouser and skirt hems are conspicuously rimed with reddish dust. The visual effects are nearly impossible to describe without sounding like I had some kind of desperate fever dream.

So far, I realize that these descriptions of the set and lighting design sound like this production is about to fall into the trap of overplaying symbolism, but please bear with me. With all of that established, I can focus on what’s truly extraordinary here, what’s meant to and does shine unhindered. The acting, musicianship and vocals are all so precise that it was hard for me to believe this show is still in previews. It feels Broadway ready, West End ready, major international tours ready. If I was the production crew, I’d turn this loose on a massive scale from the get-go without a second thought.

Much like with Hadestown, the musicians are not down in an orchestra pit. They’re characters in their own right, present on the stage from start to finish on tiered risers that run up from the center on each side from one of the catwalks. I’m sure Chavkin’s involvement as director has everything to do with why this show feels so much like, moves so much like Hadestown. The company is on an equally small scale, about 23 - 25 people including the principals.

Costuming among the ensemble is delightfully gender agnostic. I mention a cabaret aesthetic earlier in this review, and I’m not kidding. If you had shown me the ensemble costume designs without showing me the principals’ designs, I would have assumed I was looking at a Cabaret revival. They’re the most talented dancers I’ve seen occupy one stage in more than a decade. The choreography relies on movements in eerie unison for a significant portion of the show, but not without allowance for individual flair within those constraints. The guy sitting next to me, when I spoke to him at the intermission, said he works as a choreographer in regional theater, and he’d never seen anything like this. I couldn’t agree more; the dancing is singular, and as impressive as the musicianship is, the dancing and unusual body movement are maybe the greatest achievements of this show on the living, breathing end of things. I could have watched the dancers for those three hours without any dialogue or vocal intervention and still understood the story. That takes so much fucking doing.

As for the principal cast, they’re constantly among the ensemble; when I say these are all triple threats in the purest sense of that terminology, I really mean it. You always expect a few of the principals to be less dance and movement focused, more polished on the acting and singing side, but this show gives you terrifying proficiency from every angle. Even the guy playing Meyer Wolfsheim is at the center of what I think is the most memorable dance number in the piece. I’ve just never seen such versatile principals all in one production. What’s even more extraordinary is that I had never heard of or previously seen any of them, and that takes some doing given how much live theater I’ve consumed in several decades of life.

Ironically, the musical composition is the one aspect of this production on which I’ll be spending the least time. I need not tell you why Welch and Bartlett were perfect for this job. They understood the assignment, and then some. There’s not a single weak number among the track listings, and I desperately hope they release a recording soon. The standout numbers all have something in common: they showcase Soleia Pfeiffer as Myrtle Wilson. You can tell that’s the role where Welch sank most of the sound that’s considered her signature style. I don’t even need to describe it; you already know what I’m talking about. What’s impressive otherwise is the restraint, the lack of over-reliance on that signature style.

The principals are fucking perfect. I’ve kept this review tautly professional without meaning to thus far, but from here on out is where I start bleeding feels all over the post. If you don’t already know who my blorbos are due to my writing history with a Gatsby-related novel (The Pursued and the Pursuing, 2021), you’re going to know by the time you’re done reading this. You’re going to know exactly who I love and why, who I hate and why, who I ship and why. But you’ll also know that I approach all three of those elements from a place of enjoying every moment of those characters, even the ones I hate. Nobody’s performance put me off or struck the wrong tone when taken in context of the novel and how the tragedy of how their relationships play out.

For a long time, I’ve been saying that there are certain support roles, certain sidekicks, that make or break the higher-profile person to whose side they’re stuck, ride or die, until the bitter end. Horatio is a great example that I’ve ranted about before; if your Hamlet production has a lackluster Horatio, then it doesn’t matter how good the Hamlet is. You have nothing if you don’t have the binary star system at the heart of that harrowing universe. I’ve seen other adaptations of Gatsby consistently fall apart because Nick Carraway is treated like the kind of voyeur who doesn’t matter, the kind of voyeur who serves as the audience’s eyes and ears, and nothing else. Anyway, this is all to say: Ben Levi Ross as Nick might be the most compelling argument I can make for the fact that the creative team behind this show understood the assignment. He’s awkward, warm, sincere, and reactive in all of the ways you need Nick to be. He’s not a passive observer; he’s in the middle of everything, and he knows it. There’s a self-deprecating response he makes when one character, Jordan if I’m not mistaken, quips that maybe he’s the reason for Gatsby’s parties for all he knows. “Maybe I am,” he says, and the tongue-in-cheekness belies a gutting meta-sincerity. We believe Daisy is the point, Gatsby believes Daisy is the point, but what’s borne out every breathtaking moment of this production is that Nick is the point. He always was. He’s also given his due as a gay man in context of the story for the first time ever. I might make some folks mad when I say Nick has always been gay; I’m going to point you to Myrtle’s apartment party and the hookup with Mr. McKee as textual evidence in the novel. The kiss with McKee, the hookup with McKee, is unapologetically here. His lack of belonging everywhere else he’s ever been, because he is gay, is unapologetically here. One of the most memorable numbers in the show hinges on the hope feels at being able to be himself in New York. Queer fans of Gatsby have been waiting a long time for this. Anyone who’s read the text closely and understood him has been waiting a long time for this. I’ve been waiting several decades as a reader, and I would’ve waited forever to have Nick so fully, lovingly realized.

One of the other things that Gatsby adaptations have persistently gotten wrong is the titular character himself. The invention of Jay Gatsby hides the underlying James Gatz, makes it feel as if that old self is truly subsumed, as if it never mattered. But Isaac Powell gives us a Jay who’s exactly as he should be, who can’t hide beneath his own attempt at artifice and reinvention worth a goddamn. He’s young (as young as Nick; they’re 32 and 30 respectively both in the novel and here), painfully earnest, and just barely keeping a handle on the criminal shit he’s had to do in order to get where he is. When he says old sport to Nick, it’s not an affectation; when he says it to Tom, it becomes a biting insult. This is a Jay who knows where and why he’s vulnerable; he latches onto Nick like a not because he sees a man close to Daisy that he can exploit, but because he sees another young man who’s equally vulnerable, equally an outsider, equally haunted by the things they had to do in the war. From the moment they meet, they are almost always touching—a hand on the shoulder, on the back, getting in social harm’s way for each other, eyes seeking each other without cease in the most crowded of settings. When Jay takes Nick to lunch to meet Wolfsheim (who has in this production taken on the function of Dan Cody as well), it’s not to have somebody else vouch for the artifice of who Jay Gatsby is. It’s taking Nick to meet his fucking father-figure, and all of the messy, sincere “if you hurt my boy, I’ll kill you” sentiment that Wolfsheim aims at Nick was the moment I knew just how much the Nick’s loss by the end was going to hurt. Jay’s love for Daisy is a ghost of itself, even if as painfully earnest as everything else about him. Meanwhile, his attachment to Nick is so disarmingly genuine from the start that you understand the true tragedy you’re about to watch untold: these men who need each other, maybe even were made for each other, each prove unable to step outside their parallel distractions from what they truly are to each other. Jay’s interactions with Daisy and Nick’s interactions with several male and/or gender ambiguous members of the ensemble have something in common, which is a shocking level of physicality. This show had an intimacy coordinator; that’s the level of no holds barred we’re talking about. When you look at Tom and Myrtle, you can see why that was merited, too.

Speaking of Tom (Cory Jeacoma), the treatment of him here is every bit as scary as it should be. There’s no attempt to make him palatable, unlike what I’ve seen done with him in other adaptations. He towers over everyone else in the cast, I mean everyone, to a physical degree that’s uncomfortable. The way his wife, lover, and friends all flinch when he gets too close to them speaks volumes to the fact that he’s an abuser in every sense of the term. Even Nick, the prodigal college friend from Yale, is on eggshells around him (which, by the hotel blowup at the end of the show, becomes a sneering, reckless contempt, one of the driving forces that drives Nick to put himself between Jay and Tom whenever real harm is on the table). At the same time, this is a Tom who sincerely loves his wife and was only ever using Myrtle as a fling. You can tell he never meant any of the promises he made Myrtle. When Daisy tells him she didn’t stop the car on purpose, it’s as if his wife’s unapologetic act of manslaughter (“It was her or me!”) is the thing that wins him back. They aren’t careless people; they are people who consciously choose, day in and day out, to use others until they’re bored or done with them. The ruthlessness of Tom and Daisy as a couple is impressive, played up to a level that I feel more adaptations should do without fear of exaggerating the text.

As mentioned above, Daisy (Charlotte MacInnes) is no delicate, nervous creature who can’t help her actions under duress. She knows what she’s doing every bit as much as Tom knows what he’s doing. They use people, hurt people because they get bored and restless and enjoy it. I respect a Daisy who’s in control of her actions every step of the way even if I don’t like her; it’s better than trying to depict her as weak and at the mercy of the men around her. She’s a pragmatist and a survivor. So many of her songs are about choices and being conscious of those choices. She is a person you should fear every bit as much as you fear her husband, and even Jordan knows she’s not safe in Daisy’s orbit.

As Jordan, Eleri Ward is one of the neatest personalities on stage. Like Tom, she’s noticeably taller than most, which gives her a commanding physical presence. She has no romantic interest in anyone; I fucking love that this production show her and Nick bonding on the basis of being queer and tired of everyone else’s shit. This is a more likable, relatable Jordan than I’ve seen in the past. This is a Jordan whose relationship to Gatsby is much more familiar and warm, much more akin to the friendship she forms with Nick. In fact, the queer-and-tired vibes that roll off several of the principals in this production are palpable.

Myrtle and Wilson (Matthew Amira) aren’t always played as effective foils for Daisy and Tom, but here? They unquestionably are. They do actually love each other in spite of the things they’ve done to hurt each other, and it’s a constant dance of daring each other, challenging each other. The most memorable duet in the entire show is between them, during Act II. The confrontation is positively electric. These are two people with deep, complicated history. Of all the couples in the show, they feel the most real, the most alive. It makes the loss of Myrtle so much more wrenching; she’s not just a plot device emblematic of the bad choices they’ve all been making. She’s not shallow or frivolous or anything like that. She’s a shrewd woman with complex motivations, and for the first time ever I find myself loving her and caring what happens to her. She’s thrust even further into the action in that one of her part time gigs is working as a maid at Gatsby’s parties, a conceit that works shockingly well and hastens the devastating consequences of her affair with Tom.

I’ve made mention of Meyer Wolfsheim’s (Adam Grupper) uniquely enhanced role previously, so I’d be remiss if I didn’t comment on him again. This is a man who does, in fact, seem to give a shit about Jay above and beyond using him as a tool in his criminal empire. It’s not necessarily a healthy father-son dynamic, but Wolfsheim is usually played as ruthless, opportunistic, inhumanly calculating. Here, he’s a charming, but unquestionably dangerous man moved by a young soldier’s plight. He seems conflicted between his love for Jay and his need to have Jay continue to hold the party line within their business relationship. Wolfsheim is deeply conflicted about Jay in a way that I haven’t seen any Wolfsheim be played previously. And, as I mentioned earlier, the actor has a showstopper of a song and dance number. That may be the #1 “I wasn’t expecting that, but I’ll take it!” moment for me in this show. And I say “may be” only because the moment that truly stopped my heart, will stay with me until everything else fades from memory, is perhaps only understandable in the context of my engagement with the text of Gatsby as a writer of transformative works.

Daisy’s and Tom’s daughter, Pam Buchanan doesn’t always appear in adaptations because she’s a toddler. Even in the novel, she a throwaway mention plus a single scene near the end where the nanny brings her out to meet Jay and Nick. She’s most often left as a throwaway mention without even grave of the scene where she appears. The scene in the novel, however brief, is memorable—and has been captured in all its fragile beauty for the first time in this adaptation. Jay and Nick both pay bewildered, wondering attention to this kid when she’s brought out. Jay drops to his knees and takes her hand when she greets him while Nick looks on in a moment of singular focus on both of them. The child who plays Pam here has a spark, an expressiveness that made me choke up even though she’s only on stage for a few minutes, if that. The tableau is one in which you can feel the shock of reality, however brief, touch on these men—Daisy’s and Tom’s reckless actions may yet do harm to someone who’s barely even begun to live her life, but who is just conscious enough to be a participant in it. They recognize that they, like this child, are probably in for a word of ruin—and that they have let it go on for so long that there’s now nothing they can do about it. For me, the deepest tragedy was watching Nick and Jay throw off that moment of heartbroken, horrified recognition prompted by Pam and return to the parts they’d decided to play out until the moment one of their hearts stopped.

Speaking of grief, of Nick’s grief since he’s the one who loses so much: there is only one person who loses more, and that’s Mr. Gatz, Jay’s father. They preserve his arrival at the house when Nick is the only person who stays around to carry out Jay’s funeral and burial. And when he arrives, the visceral shock of seeing his dark skin, braids, and beaded elements of Native regalia in juxtaposition with his otherwise period-typical Western garb underscore the tragedy of what young Jay was running away from, of what he never quite succeeded in erasing from himself. The burial scene shows Nick reverently bringing several of Jay’s folded shirts from the house and handing them down into the grave to Mr. Gatz, who places them reverently as possessions to accompany his son into thereafter. The cultural ramifications are all at once understated and devastating. Nick has moments with each of Jay’s father figures that are among the most complex and moving in the show. The program does not make clear the name of the ensemble member who takes on this most memorable of all Mr. Gatz appearances, and this erasure in and of itself is both unfortunate and telling. This is a world that never belonged to the majority of those who inhabit it, and Nick realizes it with heartbroken clarity after having this final interaction. Even though he’s an outsider, he’s part of a world that has erased and betrayed the man he loved so much at every turn.

The closing number, “We Beat On,” felt like it needed something more, but it utilized the final line of the novel to a deeply moving effect. The lights go down suddenly as the last word is sung; it feels like the song is half finished. When the lights came up, Nick and Jay were center stage in each other’s embrace, just withdrawing from each other as the entire company transitioned into final bows. That’s how I’ll remember them, always: touching even when they’ve already lost each other, borne ceaselessly back into each other’s arms. If Nick is Orpheus, then I have no doubt that he, too, will tell this story again and again until someday, somewhere, something gives.

#the great gatsby #gatsby musical #florence welch #gatsby #natsby

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