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back-and-totheleft · 3 years

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"Hollywood rabble rouser"

Late one night in the summer of 2008, I found what turned out to be a stockbroker’s iPhone in the back of a NYC taxi. Turning it on in order to contact the owner, I noticed that amongst the stock watch apps and currency converters was an icon of Gordon Gekko, the corrupt market raider immortalized by Michael Douglas in Wall Street, Oliver Stone’s 1987 tale of insider trading and corporate excess. Intrigued, I hit Gekko’s pixilated face (it felt good) and a website flashed up with an entire transcription of his infamous “Greed is good” speech — one of Hollywood’s most iconic parables to the pursuit of unrestrained greed. Whoever owned the phone found those words as important as checking Facebook or texting his girlfriend. Gekko was his hero, his daily inspiration.

Watching back Wall Street a few weeks later as news of the Lehman Brothers collapse and global recession spread, it struck me that a whole generation of financiers must have grown up, like Charlie Sheen’s character Bud Fox, yearning to be Gekko. He was the business equivalent of a rapper wanting to become Tony Montana, another Stone creation. And some of these brokers, as we’ve all since discovered, were willing to trade money that didn’t exist in pursuit of pin stripe suits, corner offices, penthouses, boats, women, and stacks of cash. Perhaps the perks made the 22-year prison stretch Gekko received at the end of the film seem like a viable risk. Or they deliberately chose to ignore his downfall.

Inspired by financial fiends like Bernie Madoff, Stone decided to spring Gekko out of prison for Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps. Set in 2008, he is a reformed character that tries, and fails, to warn business leaders of the impending credit crunch. Many fans are understandably nervous about Douglas reprising his Oscar winning role, especially since his hair gel and brick phone have long been put into storage. Stone, who only agreed to direct the film because he felt that current financial climate lent itself to a sequel, understandably feels that it’s time for bankers to grow up. As the director of Natural Born Killers, JFK and Platoon he’s used to Marmite reactions. But, after giving Dubya an easy ride in W, will Gordon 2.0 be one step too far? Is the world ready for goody Gekko two shoes? Or will traders across Wall Street be deleting their “Greed is good” iPhone bookmarks forever? As they say on the stock market floor, let the bull charge.

Tim Noakes: When you were 18 your father got you to work on a financial exchange in France. Was that your inspiration for Wall Street?

Oliver Stone: No, it was a great summer job actually, because it was very exotic. My father was always into the stock market, into numbers. He loved that world in New York and I grew up on the fringes of it but I wasn’t particularly attuned to it. So it was a chance to see it first hand but I didn’t do very well as a trader. In those days you’d run from the phone booth in the back to the floor. It was cocoa and sugar. It was violent and busy. They used to elbow each other to get into the inner circle, like matadors. It was a real crush. I elbowed my way through it and got up to be assistant buyer, which was very complicated because you had to make the orders for everything right. You couldn’t screw up. A lot of money’s involved. So then I thought I should be one of the cocoa buyers. I was a little too ambitious for my own good.

Your father died before you made Wall Street. What do you think he would have made of it?

I think he would have appreciated that I had done a business movie. We always talked about it. He loved movies and he took me to them. We discussed them afterwards, which was an invaluable experience, and he would say that there weren’t many business movies. And there weren’t. There was not a specific genre. Hollywood was not into the business movie concept. It’s hard. I can understand why. It’s all financial talk, it’s not interesting to most people and it lacks those human emotions. Money is an interesting subject, however, for America. That’s why I addressed it in 1987. I thought, ‘Americans love money’, and what lengths they will go to get it is what that movie is about. Especially coming off Platoon, which is a different kind of movie. I was trying to prove that I could do something domestic with ‘Wall Street’.

The original was very much of its era.

It was the era of “Greed is good” and Reagan. With Wall Street 2, I’m obviously more mature, I’ve done more films, I have more confidence, I hope. I’m trying something a little bit deeper in the relationship field. There’s no Darryl Hannah in the movie. There’s a real English girl this time (Carey Mulligan). She anchors strongly the emotions of the film, because she is damaged. She’s the daughter of Gordon Gekko, if you can imagine what that can be like.

Michael Douglas once said that your style of directing is like taking people into the trenches. What did he mean by that?

He makes it sound like I dress him up in uniform and have a military hierarchy. Every single actor that I’ve worked with, and there’s obviously dozens now, you’d have to talk to every single one of them to get their perception. I would say some would disagree. Maybe Michael, because he hasn’t been in the military, would regard it as a military experience. I didn’t think of it that way. I think of a movie as an organisation that has to work at a very fluid pace involving a large amount of people who have to move quickly over a landscape. Call that what you will. It could be an adventure party or a military organisation. It’s really a satellite business. You form, you group, you rehearse, you shoot, you separate. It’s very nomadic. In that chemistry you bring together so many conflicting types of people who have different kinds of egos. It’s quite a mix. At the end of the day, if you look back at the — what is it? 19, 20 films — that I’ve directed, it’s just a mix of styles. Sometimes it really works with people. It clicks. I think Michael did great work on both films, so I’m very pleased with his result. My style might not have been good for him, but it works for other people. Some people, like Shia LaBeouf and Josh Brolin, were digging it. They loved the way I worked because it was intense and to the point and relatively fast.

Do you see yourself as a hard taskmaster or a disciplinarian?

No, I’m not a disciplinarian. I’m disciplined with myself and I think I try to lead by example not by imposition of my will. I try to lead by example. That’s just to say that people know that I’m trying to get this thing done. My approach is that we’re all in this together. The idea is king. We all serve that king. It is not a democracy, it is a constitutional monarchy, so to speak, with strong legislative power in the House of Lords. No, but the idea is king. I repeat that. Not the director. The idea. I serve the idea.

How do you balance the logistics with trying to create a piece of art?

Oh boy, if I didn’t tell you I wasn’t humbled so many times, you would not believe it. It’s a very humbling experience to make a movie, because you’re at the mercy of the elements. Of the winds and the weather as well as conditions that can go wrong — disease, sickness, bad tempers. All sorts of stuff can happen. Given that nature, to pull off a movie is extremely difficult. The editing room is another humiliation. All your mistakes are thrown back in your face. No matter how many good choices you make, and making a movie involves thousands of choices, you’re constantly having to question yourself again. I find it a very difficult position. I don’t think I enjoy it. I think I’m more experienced at it but I don’t think I completely enjoy it. I think sometimes it’s so painful you want to scream bloody murder and run somewhere.

What’s the cut-off point? How do you stop?

How do you stop? A famous director once said that every film is abandoned, never finished.

So you just let it go?

Some people won’t but I do let it go. I’m not looking for perfection. I don’t believe in it. I believe that a film is many things to many people and it changes over time. I think you have to feel good about it and about what you did. It hangs together and it’s going to be a story that can move an audience. It’s so difficult to pull off quickly. It takes time.

The world’s moved on since Wall Street. Were you apprehensive about creating a sequel to such a well-loved film?

Apprehensions? No. I’d have had more apprehensions if I’d had to do it in 1990, I think. Twenty-three years is a long time to call it a sequel. I think of it more as a bookend.

Don’t you think that’s laying you open for even more criticism? Look at what George Lucas did with Star Wars..

We’re not going back into that period. The beauty of this thing is that there’s a new period upon us, which is quite different, technically. It’s a different kind of Wall Street. The landscape has changed. It’s no longer 1987. It’s really a computer game now. The money has accelerated at a square root that is beyond belief from millions to billions. Hedge funds invest 30–40 billion dollars. Even to have one billion dollars is an enormous amount of money. When you hear these guys say, “Oh, it’s just a billion dollar hedge fund” it’s unbelievable arrogance. The heights are dizzying, and the losses are dizzying. It’s just unbelievable what happened. By all accounts it was a near-fatal heart-attack.

Were you planning on revisiting Wall Street is the crisis hadn’t happened?

No, that was the catalyst for it. It wasn’t the only reason. It was a wonderful idea for a script, that Gekko would be a different type of person. That he would start from the outside. He didn’t have power or connections anymore. Time had passed. He was dated.

Is Michael Douglas in danger of becoming a pastiche of what made Gordon Gekko good?

I feared that. That’s why we approached it in a wholly different way. Michael is playing it twenty-two years older, he’s coming out of prison. Michael has changed in that interim. He was a charming rogue, certainly, in the Eighties. You saw a lot of that in his subsequent performances. You saw a lot of Gekko in later films, so I think it was smart to move away from that pastiche, as you call it, because it would have been boring after a while. There are flashes of the old Gekko, which I love, but it’s not like the charming reptile, so to speak. It’s a different man now. I’m not saying that he’s a wholly reformed figure looking for a martyrhood, but what’s interesting about him is what he’s going to do, and how he’s going to play the game to get back. He has suffered extensively in prison, his family has fallen apart, his oldest son has committed suicide. It’s very tough on him.

How did you persuade Michael to get back on board?

Frankly, I didn’t convince anybody. I passed on the script in 2006. It wasn’t important for me to make it. I felt, what was the need to make this movie if it was going to glorify the pigs on Wall Street? They were really making money and it was ugly. There was a spate of books too like The Wolf of Wall Street, which was a big hit and they are going to make a movie out of that. There was kind of a surfeit and there was sickliness to it all. I got turned off by it. I passed, and I moved on with my life, and I did W and World Trade Centre and stuff like that. Then there was this crash and the crash changed the equation I think, I hope.

Do you think the original message of Wall Street failed because young traders ended up idolising Gordon Gekko?

That’s a very good question. Frankly, I wondered at times. The original Wall Street came about because of my experiences on Scarface. I was living in New York and I was hanging out with the dealers and the mob. That whole scene in Miami was a very shocking thing in 1982–3. Wall Street, was like Scarface north. I was suddenly seeing people my age, in their twenties, making millions of dollars, so easily, so quickly. Moving inordinate amounts of money. Also, snorting and drinking. The partying scene had really kicked in big time in the 80s. It was all new to me, so that’s how that was born. Then it went to excess. But I was very clear that Gekko was the antagonist in the movie, but as you say a lot of young people caught on to him. I do think, and perhaps I’m retrograde, that although he was not feted at the time the anchor of the movie is Charlie Sheen.

But no-one wanted to be Bud Fox.

Well that’s the movies. They want to be heroes. They want to make money. I did meet a lot of people in their 40s that said, “When I saw your movie I was studying this-or-that at this-or-that school, I was going to do history or medicine or law but then I saw the movie and I moved to Wall Street for that reason.” The the kicker was that some of them were multi-millionaires, one of them was a billionaire, and they had moved to Wall Street because of the movie. I said, “Oh boy, I wish I had a royalty on that.” These guys are really rich.

I find that quite worrying.

I gave birth to some rich people. But some of them did good. Some of them created something. That was the whole point of the original. Not to shit on Wall Street but to basically say, ‘Look, this is an engine of capitalism’. This can work. My father always felt that Wall Street was a good thing. It creates companies, it finances new companies, creates research and development, and it does. It still does, by the way, it’s not forgotten but it’s been buried in the greater picture of making bigger profits and more greed, but it’s still there. Wall Street is a good thing. It was a good thing and it can be a good thing.

Throughout your career critics have said you shouldn’t glamourise the people you put on the big screen. Do you like to provoke that reaction?

No, I like to make bigger-than-life characters but ‘World Trade Centre’ is about two very ordinary men who were real heroes. On Bush I guess you could say I supped with the devil and brought out all the reasons I thought why people voted for the guy. There is this fundamental thing which Americans like in him, and I was trying to root that out and how he became President.

You were criticised for making Bush too likeable.

You can fault that, but he was re-elected. I didn’t like him. I was very clear — I empathised. Empathy means I walked in his shoes, or tried to. As opposed to sympathised. I don’t agree with anything he said. Anything. I think he was a disaster. It was a nightmare eight years.

Do you think you were too soft?

No. I wish I’d done it a year earlier and it would have been more timely. He was out of favour when it came out, because of the economy, but frankly the movie was about the national security state which concerned me more.

Why are you drawn to these anti-heroes?

They don’t do me any good. Nixon, too.

I see a lot of similarities between Tony Montana and Gordon Gekko. In Scarface, Tony says “You need people like me to point the finger at and say, ‘That’s the bad guy’”. Do you think film critics see you in that light?

I think you’re right. I think film critics have me as a punch ball. It’s an easy target, I guess. I’ve been misidentified with the characters, but I think over time you see that there’s a whole assortment of different characters. But I agree, I think that’s true and I think that’s hurt me. It’s hurt my career as well as some of the political statements I’ve made and positions I’ve taken in documentaries I’ve made. They’ve hurt me too and they’ve given me a profile that’s not necessarily me, it’s just a profile. Absolutely.

There’s been huge furor recently that you’re reported to be attempting to humanise Hitler, Stalin and Mao Zedong.

I think it’s out of context. I did use the word ‘scapegoat’ and I think that was an unfortunate word, but frankly it’s a very interesting history that we’re putting together. We’re using the facts that we have, that are known but have been forgotten. There’s no question that Hitler had a big hand up the ladder. He didn’t come out of nowhere. He is a Frankenstein, he is a monster and I have no sympathy for him, but he was created by a Dr Frankenstein. That Dr Frankenstein is a very interesting mixture and you have to study cause and effect to understand history, otherwise you don’t learn anything from it. It’s my fault because I’m interested in the world, and I’m willing to go out there. I’m not trying to provoke, I’m trying to look for the truth. I’m trying to shine a light. For Christ’s sake, I feel like we’ve become so politically correct that you can’t do shit anymore. You’re not supposed to turn around.

Do you feel like you sometimes exploit sensitive subjects too much? More than some people can take?

Well, that’s why I like the English. They’re much more out there and they’re willing to explore subjects that the Americans are not. Having been to war, having seen the devastation America visited onto Vietnam, I cannot just be another typical American and live in isolation. My taxes are going as we speak to blowing up people in Afghanistan. I don’t feel good about that.

Back to Wall Street. Gekko says “Every dream has its price”, what’s the biggest price you’ve paid to get to where you are?

I’d have to talk to my psychotherapist, who I haven’t seen in ages. I suppose the price is that you do have long absences from home and normal quotidian values, at times. Your children grow up and you have to readapt to the fact that you haven’t been the attentive father. That’s a big issue, but I have been as attentive as I can be in taking care of them. Still, there’s gaps there. Divorces have happened. Those things.

I see Wall Street as epitomising the ruthlessness of the Eighties. During that era did you find yourself being a slave to the success that you had earned?

Yeah, I suppose everybody can become a mental slave to the need to produce. Remember, I was on a roll in the sense that I had to get financing for very complicated movies. I felt like I had a mission. To get JFK made in that era was very tough, still. You need heat. To make that movie after The Doors you need to keep rolling. In a sense I worked very fast, and hard, but I knew that I could get things done. Nixon was sort of the end of the line. I was making movies all those years. Platoon was impossible to get made. So was Salvador. Every single fucking one. ‘The Doors’. They were always problems. There were always tremendous issues. You asked what the price is? The price was to keep going fast, before they change their mind. The idea was ‘Wrap it up, get another one done’. These are tough subject matters. With ‘Nixon’ I’d done eleven or ten, I was exhausted. Frankly, I needed to take a break.

What kept you moving on? Obviously the pressures that you’re talking about manifested in different ways. You had your drug problems earlier on, but how did it manifest when the financing started to crumble down? Did you resort to those kind of vices?

I think there’s other factors. There was a lot of living. A lot of pain. Children. Divorces. This and that. But I think I have been very successful. I got movies made that wouldn’t have been done in the normal radar. They were not on the scope.

In Wall Street 2 Shia LeBeouf says, “No matter how much money you make, you’ll never be rich”. With all your success, do you empathise with that sentiment?

Of course I do. I don’t think money is the solution to happiness. Life is complicated, but certainly money can have the opposite effect. It can make you unsatisfied with life, and make life harder for you. There are two effects of it. One is that it leaves you unsatisfied, you always want more, as we see from these billionaires. Two, it leaves you falsely content and over-satisfied.

And you’re not either?

I don’t feel that way, no. I feel like I’m one trade away from disaster.

The new film is called Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps. What gets you off to sleep?

What gets me off to sleep? Sonata. Medication. I’m just joking. The best solution for sleep is having lived a full day and tried hard to live life fully. That makes you feel the reward of sleep.

-Tim Noakes, "The Hollywood rabble rouser sets his sights on a new generation of Wall Street wolves," Medium, Mar 3 2010 [x]

#medium #tim noakes #w.#wall street #wall street: money never sleeps #oliver stone

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eshrii · 3 years

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Sing Ring Release

This is from Emitsun’s book, Ho・Ho・E・Mi Happy Music Vol. 2! She talks about her re-debut and the struggles and thoughts she had throughout the whole process. I’m still not very good with Japanese, so I’m sorry for any errors. This is a little long though, so enjoy!

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This Spring, in a renewed environment, Emitsun releases her Re-Debut Single ‘Sing Ring’ 2 years after her last work.

Suddenly finding herself in an unexpected painful experience, from here on out she tries to move forward one step at a time, filled with an honest desire.

Just for the readers, ‘Ho-Ho-E-Mi Happy Music Vol. 2’ delivers a special full version of the interview seen in ‘LisAni! Volume 40’.

Now, let’s get started!

Nitta San’s eagerly awaited for new work comes from music producer Yohei Kisara san, who is representing his label ‘Stray Cats’. Furthermore, this time it is labelled as a ‘Re-Debut single’.

It’s not really because I took a break from music activities per say, but because the label changed and we’re making music with a new team, it became a ‘re-debut’. Kisara San has been looking after me ever since I became a voice actress, but this is the first time working with Emi Nitta the artist, and there was a lot we didn’t know about each other (laughs).

It’s been approximately 2 years since you last released your album ‘EMUSIC 32-meets you-’ in May 2018 but during that time, what sort of thoughts or emotions did you have about your music work?

I communicated this before to the fan club, but around the summer of 2018 I was actually diagnosed with dysphonia (T/N: a vocal disorder causing difficulty in vocalization). When we were in production for that album, my singing and speaking felt uncomfortable, and during the solo concert at NHK Hall in June 2018, I was singing with a lot of anxiety. In that state I couldn’t express my music the way I wanted to, and once I thought that maybe I should take a break from singing, but that’s also difficult…

What did you mean when you said Dysphonia?

I didn’t have any abnormalities in my vocal cords, but for some reason I couldn’t control my voice. There’s lots of different types of Dysphonia, sometimes stress is the cause, for some it’s physical condition, or an issue with the autonomic nerves, but there’s no real way of figuring out the specific cause. For me, I don’t know what’s wrong, but I just know that it’s definitely something that makes me unable to sing. That’s why for about a year and a half I honestly just had to stop singing. I was really worried about not being able to meet everyone’s expectations, and even with public appearances I thought ‘I can’t do this’ and slowly became depressed. Nevertheless, when I revealed my condition through the fan club, I received a lot of warm messages from a lot of different people. They told me that everyone’s still waiting for my songs, and until I am able to sing, I can still and try to do other things.

You faced a lot of challenges because of that didn’t you?

I’m the type of person that hates to lose. Because of that, I tried a lot of things: singing with a fit monitor, listening with a guide melody (T/N: a melody that helps you stay in tune during karaoke), but ultimately it didn’t really do much (laughs). But last year I was invited to perform at LisAni! LIVE BEIJING, and it was an environment where nobody knew my songs. I didn’t have the pressure of people’s expectations on my back, and it was a lot of fun. That was the time when I turned towards considering the notion of a re-debut. Even though I was filled with anxiety, when I thought ‘Ah, I can still have fun singing’, I gained a lot of self-confidence. Honestly, from this point in my music activities, I always think ‘today is my worst day’. From here onwards, tomorrow will be better than today, and the day after that and so on; one by one I hope I will find my music and my voice.

Nevertheless, there must have been some painful and frustrating thoughts.

Of course. But I think that feelings of frustration and regret can be a source of encouragement. When it comes to frustration and regret, just let it run its course (laughs). When we announced the re-debut, the fans were really happy and grateful, and that gave me a lot of strength. For me, a singer is someone who can give someone strength and a push on their back through song, and I thought, ‘can I be that kind of singer too?’ That’s the kind of courage I received.

This time, the new song ‘Sing Ring’ is filled with exactly those feelings right?

Thank you. This time it’s a re-debut, so for that first song we had a talk about who would be able to write it for us. 2020 is the 10th anniversary of my voice actress debut, so I thought I could ask someone with whom I have a deep connection from back then. From my very first voice acting job, “T.P. Sakura~Time Paladin”, we asked Yozuca* san, who sang the ending theme, if she could compose and write the lyrics. Yozuca* san is my senpai who has been a singer for a very long time, and I have also already had the pleasure of singing one of her songs before (T/N: Yozuca* has also written songs for μ's).

Before Nitta san’s debut, Yozuca* san also sang “Time Capsule”, the insert song for the game “D.C. III P.P.~ Da Capo III Platinum Partner~”.

Ah yes. Yozuca* san also came to see my concert at NHK hall and it was a big thing for me. At that performance, Yozuca* san took my hand and told me “It’s okay, everyone here is your ally”. At that time I felt like I had accidentally let my anxiety show, but the me during the performance back in 2016 at the Pacifico Yokohama Convention Center, when I was pumped and full of energy, and the me afterwards that full of anxiety and nervousness- Yozuca* san saw both sides of me, and because of that she understood my feelings, and would be able to write a song with those feelings: “‘from here on out, I’ll crawl and slowly get stronger and stronger into the me I want everyone to see”.

When it was decided that Yozuca* san would work on the song, did you go and talk to her directly?

Yes. I talked about my thoughts on the re-debut, my regrets on being unable to sing how I wanted, my current feelings. We talked about a lot of things, and she was able to translate them into wonderful words that could hopefully be conveyed to the fans. That’s why even though I didn’t write the lyrics myself, I still felt that it was my song, and the first time I received the song, I couldn’t stop crying. Even if it’s not me, it’s a song that resonates with people who have worked hard at something and have experienced setbacks and failures.

The name ‘Sing Ring’, it’s a very Nitta san thing isn’t it. Even before making this album you had a song that you wrote yourself called ‘In the Ring’.

For me, the word 輪[wa] or Ring, is a special word, even my fan club name is ‘EmiRing◎’, but I didn’t tell that to Yozuca* san. However, when I received the song, that was the name and I felt that it was fate. Until now there have been a lot of things that didn’t go well, but even then there’s something there that feels connected. Speaking of which, this re-debut seems to be the same; my anxiety has turned into this wonderful song, and I think nothing was done in vain.

In the beginning , you start the song with acapella no? When I first listened to it, I could feel Nitta san’s resolve. You’ve been slowly and earnestly coming to terms with your current singing voice, would you call this your will to move forward?

That acapella part was actually an idea that Yozuca* san had during recording. I couldn’t really sing that well, but she was watching over me while I was singing desperately, and suggested “at the beginning why don’t you try singing it acapella almost like you’re humming it”. If you were to ask me if this song is 100% an Emi Nitta song, technically speaking it isn’t, I felt like I could’ve sang 200%, 300%....I’m still not fully satisfied with it (laughs).

At any rate, you’ve done everything in your power right now.

Yes. I think that there are a lot of things that I wouldn’t have realized if I hadn’t broke, and things that I couldn’t see until I fell. That’s why if it was past me singing like I had before, this song would most definitely just be an ordinary song, I wouldn’t have been the right person for this song. I feel like having experienced frustrations and troubles are needed to sing this song (laughs).

The lyrics in the beginning, ‘this voice resounds, and I walk from here’, and the hook ‘you don’t have to be your ideal self’ etc., the substance of the lyrics are quite frank aren’t they?

But by no means does it mean weakness, right? Even if I stumble, what’s inside of me hasn’t changed- it’s the feeling of wanting to cheer on people who are trying their best. Even if I showed my weakness, I definitely do not feel despair. It’s just like yelling ‘I’m frustrated!’ (laughs). Something that I’m really grateful for is that Yozuca* san said ‘I can write a song that has softer sounds, but I can understand the feelings of an Emitsun who wants to look cool in front of everyone’, and that one little feeling made it into the song without any difference. That’s why this song is a ‘I’m pitiful but I want to be cool’ type of song...I’m embarrassing (laughs).

There’s also a section where Yozuca* san seems to be telling Nitta san through the lyrics about the importance of moving forward at your own pace.

This was a song made for the current me, but I will definitely change from here on out. I think that there’s some things that will never change though, which is why when I received this song, I was able to think ‘I want to sing this song for decades to come!’. From there I was able to affirm that feeling that I was moving forward, this song is the first step to a brand new start, and it was an extremely big first step. That’s why during recording, of course there would be some not-so-great takes, but I was happy with every retake, and I was blessed to be able to sing the song so many times.

It’s important to continue to do the best you can without giving up.

It’s not about “if you don’t give up your dreams will come true”, but “don’t give up until your dreams come true”. In my life, I’ve been blessed with the people and the environment around me. That’s why I think ‘if you can’t hang on to your dream, then what else can you do?’ I want to be that kind of person that connects people to their dreams too. Actually, I don’t really like the phrase ‘do your best’ (ganbaru) . I feel like for some people those words might feel pushy. That’s why I’ll do my best, and hopefully if someone else sees it, they’ll be encouraged and want to work hard for themselves too. I’d be happy if that happens.

In that sense, it’s a very human song isn’t it?

I think it has a lot to do with my age as well. In terms of my appearance, my skin will get wrinkly but as I get older my experience will also grow, and I’ll be able to put myself into different things and doing it with my own body which I think is a really nice thought. Therefore I would like to do as much as I can to the best of my ability...this is a bit heavy isn’t it (laughs).

No, no it’s okay that the song’s story is a little heavy (laughs)

It’s definitely not a song that screams “listen to me!”(laughs).

Now, let’s talk about the coupling songs. Aside from the main song, there are two more new songs alongside it.

Since it’s a re-debut, I thought it’d be a great opportunity to bring music to everyone so I wanted to make a lot of new songs. My own self-indulgence was granted and this time the single has three songs. The three songs are all really different so it kind of feels like a mini album!

Firstly, your tv program that is being broadcasted on the tabi channel, ‘Emi Nitta’s Girl Trips’, the opening theme is ‘Everyday a Lucky Day!’. What kind of image was made for this song?

“I want to do ‘the Emi Nitta everyone thinks of’ character song” is the request I made. I wanted to make a song that was catchy and would make the heart cheerful. From all the songs we gathered, I chose the one that was the happiest and most exciting. I especially like the lyrics ‘The lucky song only for me’. I wonder if the extraordinary lucky song is tired of pushing me forward. Actually, I can already imagine what the atmosphere would be like when I sing this song live. Of course it’s one thing to simply listen to the song, but I think it’s much more fun and happy to experience it live. It’s the little things that can make someone happy, and I think that it’s nice for people to be able to enjoy everyday. That’s why for me, I want to be a woman that matches this song, even as I grow older.

The other song, Oratio, done in collaboration with the anime ‘Arad: Ring of Reversal’ as the opening theme, has a very heroic, rock tune.

The name of the song, ‘Oratio’, means ‘prayer’. It’s a collaborative work, so we wanted to get close to the world view of the anime. It has a good meaning, and it became ‘the anime song’. There aren't many opportunities to write '腕'(ude) and read it as 'kaina'(T/N: Don’t really know what she’s referring to here). As a person who immerses themselves in the world, it's a song that you can't help but get pumped up (laughs).

It’s a work that’s very suitable for a re-debut, and you can get to meet various expressions of Nitta san. Lastly, it might be a little too early but are there any new plans or things you want to try after the re-debut?

First we have the release, after that I think there’s a lot of things that we can do but, for the longest time, I have had this dream to sing for ten years and beyond. That's why, I’ll start by making my own path, facing what’s in front of me step by step. Of course, one of the things I want to do is a solo concert. I think it's a special thing to be able to share the same time with everyone, and even now I still go to the lives of my favourite artists, and I received unforgettable songs and moments. Perhaps, some people might not be able to listen to my songs, there are some people who go through the trouble of coming to fan club events from overseas, so not just Japan, but someday I'd like to be able to deliver it overseas too.

Your dreams have expanded haven’t they?

There’s definitely a lot of things I want to do. It’s a bit of a selfish desire, but I really love Winter and Christmas songs, so one of my dreams is to create a Christmas album someday. I’m really excited for the things I love to take shape, and I’m sure the fans will be very pleased as well. Obviously there are some people who express their despair through song, but I can sing because I seek a future beyond that. Therefore my feelings are ‘Hallelujah!’ (laughs).

Translated by eshrii/ashtrees_(twitter)

#えみつん #新田恵海 #Emi Nitta #Nitta Emi #emitsun #Translation #ho ho e mi vol.2

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ghostofviperwrites · 4 years

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Crossing Paths - Part 2

Pairing: Hiromu Takahashi/El Desperado

Category: Smut (slash)

Word Count: 1733

Warnings: Choking, biting hair pulling, anal sex, oral sex, hate fuck

39. “You’re really going to make me beg for it?”

40. “I’m going to show you what a real fucking is.”

45. “Fuck, I love the sounds you make.”

46. “Does this feel good?”

47. “Please… Don’t stop.”

48. “Please. I need you. Now.”

77. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

Hiromu Takahashi whistled cheerfully as he slid his key card into his hotel room door and listened to the whirring sound as it unlocked. It had been a good few days since the encounter with Despreado in the alley way. The next day Desperado wouldn’t even look at him, which tickled Hiromu to death. He liked the dominating man being knocked off kilter. But then yesterday he had almost unnerved Hiromu, watching him like he was stalking prey. That thrilled Hiromu. He liked this game. Liked feeling like he was being chased. He wondered if he was going to like submitting to Desperado.

That was his last thought as he found himself pushed from behind into the hotel room landing on his stomach with Desperado on his back, knee digging into his spine. Desperdo’s hand laced in Hiromu’s hair, arching his neck back painfully with Desperado’s knee gouging him.

“Hello Hiromu, did you miss me?” Desperado hissed into his ear, biting hard on the lobe making Hiromu moan in a mixture of pleasure and pain. “You got to play the other day. Now it’s my turn. “I’m going to show you what a real fucking is.”

“Get off me asshole.” Hiromu huffed squirming under Desperado’s control. He was glad he was on his stomach or his hard on was going to give away how much he was enjoying Desperado’s dominance.

The other man found out soon enough though shifting his body and reaching his hand beneath Hiromu’s and grabbing his cock. Hiromu moaned as Desperado roughly squeezed him, stroking him through his pants.

“Does this feel good?” Desperado asked pushing Hiromu’s face down into the carpet. “Does it?” He growled angrily yanking on Hiromu’s hair when he refused to answer as Desperado jerked him.

“Yes!” Hiromu hissed as Desperado climbed off his body releasing his cock and pulling Hiromu to his feet by his hair. Taking Hiromu’s hand Desperado pressed it to his own hard cock humming in pleasure as Hiromu immediately began stroking him.

“You want my cock?” Despreado asked pulling Hiromu’s face to his and biting his bottom lip. “Have you thought about how I’d feel in your throat?” Desperado began stroking Hiromu’s cock once again through his pants as Hiromu mirrored the motions on Desperado’s dick. “What my cum tastes like? Tell me Hiromu, have you imagined being on your knees for me?”

“I have.” Hiromu admitted. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t wait to taste you.”

Desperado smiled pulling Hiromu’s mouth to his in a bruising kiss before releasing him. “It’s your turn to be on your knees. Take off your clothes and kneel.” He ordered. He hadn’t been able to get Hiromu out of his head for weeks now. He was determined to take what he wanted and be done with it. He was tired of playing games. He would fuck the vexing man right out of his system if that’s what it took. Desperado stripped off his own clothing as he watched Hiromu undress and fall to his knees. His own cock swelled as he thought what a nice picture Hiromu made submitting to him.

Desperado approached Hiromu with a smirk, his hand reaching for that mass of hair he liked pulling on so much and yanked Hiromu’s head forward until his face was pressed to Desperado’s groin. Desperado dragged Hiromu’s face along his dick, rubbing the head over his cheek and lips eyes on Hiromu’s hand as it stroked his own hard cock.

“You want it? You want to put me in your mouth?” Despreado asked teasingly rubbing the tip of his cock over Hiromu’s lips, pulling it back as Hiromu’s tongue darted out.

“I already said yes.” Hiromu told him irritably glaring up at him to let Desperado see his displeasure.

“Beg me.” Desperado said with a grin.

“Go to hell.” Hiromu said sharply trying to tug his head free. But his hand kept stroking his cock and he couldn’t tear his eyes off Desperado’s hard cock, sitting tauntingly just out of his reach.

“You want my dick in your mouth you need to beg me for it.” Desperado said. “You only have yourself to blame for this, leaving me in an alley like a common whore.”

Hiromu stared balefully up at Desperado, even though he knew he was going to do what Desperado wanted. The thought of begging to taste his cock had Hiromu all hot and bothered.

“You’re really going to make me beg for it?” Hiromu asked in a last ditch effort receiving an affirming nod in response.

“Can I please suck you off?” He asked half-heartedly, hiding his smile. He kind of liked this game. He definitely liked playing it with women and it was fun being on the other side for a change.

“You can do better than that. C’mon. I know you want it. I can see it. Tell me how badly you need my cock.” Desperado cajoled.

“Desperado can I please suck you?” Hiromu asked turning on the full force of his seductive bedroom eyes on the unwitting man. “I want to taste your cock and run my tongue around it. I want you to fuck my throat and make me gag. I want to make you moan and weak in the knees before you fill my mouth with your sweet cum.”

“Fuck.” Desperado breathed. “Go ahead.” Hiromu grinned triumphantly as Desperado pulled him back to his cock. Desperado hissed as Hiromu took him into his mouth and sucked hard, his tongue circling Desperado’s length as Hiromu’s lips wrapped around him. Settling into an easy rhythm Hiromu bobbed on Desperado’s cock licking and sucking with every movement, one hand stroking his own cock and the other reaching to fondle Desperado’s balls.

“Please… Don’t stop.” Desperado hated that he was now the one practically begging as Hiromu used that wicked tongue of his to almost bring him to his knees. He hadn’t realized Hiromu was quite so experienced in sucking dick. Feeling his release coming Desperado grabbed two handfuls of Hiromu’s hair and buried his cock deep in Hiromu’s throat getting satisfaction as he heard him gagging around him. With a grunt his cock exploded, his seed slipping down Hiromu’s throat who greedily swallowed it.

“I should walk out on you right now like you did me. But I’m not going to. I think I need to fuck your ass before I go.” He pulled Hiromu to his feet and pushed the smaller man onto the bed on his back crawling between his legs. Desperado’s hands wrapped around Hiromu’s cock, stroking him rapidly as he stared down at Hiromu’s flushed face.

“Did you get all excited sucking me?” Despreado asked with a twist of his wrist that had Hiromu moaning. “I bet you’re a slut for sucking dick aren’t you?”

Hiromu smirked up at him, hips thrusting into Desperado’s hand as it stroked Hiromu’s cock.

“I know you’ve sucked a dick before. Have you ever had a cock up your ass?” Despreado hovered over Hiromu’s lips as he waited for an answer. When he received a slow nod Desperado growled and kissed him, finding himself incredibly turned on by the thought of Hiromu getting pounded into from behind. Breaking from his lips Desperado kissed Hiromu’s jaw and down his neck before sinking his teeth deep into his collar bone making Hiromu whimper.

“Fuck, I love the sounds you make.” Desperado said sucking on Hiromu’s neck and sinking his teeth in various spots as he moved. “I can’t wait to hear how you moan while I’m inside you.”

“Please. I need you. Now.” Hiromu groaned as Desperado pulled hard on his cock. A whimper escaped him as Desperado climbed off the bed. Hiromu watched with hungry eyes as Desperado grabbed a bottle of lube from his pants before returning.

“On all fours. I’m going to fuck you from behind like the bitch you are.” Desperado ordered chuckling as Hiromu hurriedly obeyed looking over his shoulder as Desperado generously lubed up his cock. “You like that huh? Like being a little bitch?” Hiromu flinched as the cold lube was poured over his ass, Desperado’s fingers probing at his entrance. “Maybe next time I’ll bring the leash. Collar you up like a proper bitch.”

Hiromu couldn’t contain his whimper as he imagined himself with that thick black collar around his neck as Desperado dragged him around by the leash. Forcing him to suck his cock.

The tip of Desperado’s cock pressing against him brought Hiromu back to the present and he breathed deeply to relax himself as Desperado pushed inside, taking it slowly as Hiromu got used to his girth. Once he was fully seated Desperado gave Hiromu a moment to adjust before he began moving, his hips slapping against Hiromu’s ass as he fucked him deeply. Grunts and moans filled the room air as their bodies slapped together, sweat dripping down their bodies as Hiromu pushed his hips back to meet every one of Desperado’s thrusts.

Hiromu stroked his cock as Desperado thrust into him, yelping as Desperado grabbed him by the hair and yanked him back flush with his chest, his teeth sinking into Hiromu’s shoulder before his hand wrapped around his throat. As his air was cut off Hiromu came, his hot cum splattering on his hand and the bedspread as Despreado gave a last thrust into his ass and Hiromu felt the warmth of Desperado’s release as he pushed him away.

Hiromu lay sated on his belly as Despreado dressed and left the room without another word.

“Until next time Desperado.” Hiromu mumbled with a smile as the door slammed behind him.

#hiromu takahashi imagine #hiromu takahashi fanfic #el desperado fanfic #el desperado imagine #njpw fanfic #wrestling fanfic #mywriting #ghostofviperwrites

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amygeeunit · 4 years

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The Quarantine Chronicles: These Last Five Years & What I Thought I Wanted

There’s nothing like being alone in your own thoughts at 1:00am in the midst of a global pandemic... Instead of aimlessly scrolling through my Instagram timeline or checking my bank account with all the money I have saved from not going out, I’ve had time to think about what the 28 year old, almost 29 year old Amy needs versus wants...

I think in high school or at some point in our lives we have all fallen victim to “By the time I’m age this, I want to have x, y and z.” At 16, I thought at 25 I would have my life 85% figured out. Pretty funny concept now that you think about it, right? I actually laugh at how naive or how troublesome it is to have these unrealistic goals and tag an age onto them... I pictured myself living in a nice apartment, potentially dating someone, or if not just focusing on my career. Fast forward to 2020, besides this year being a complete clusterf*ck, I’ve had extra time to sit down and think of these last five years in a nutshell.

All I remember from 2015 was going to Vegas, still working in retail, having foot surgery and getting into CSUF. The rest is foggy because it’s been five years. Huh? I thought 2015 was last year...

2016 seemed to be one of my better years. I started at CSUF, went to Iceland, interned at Rastaclat, ended up getting a job at Rastaclat, entered into my first serious relationship, moved back out to Orange County and felt like at 24 - 25 I was killing the game (or so I thought.)

2017 wasn’t too bad. I graduated from CSUF in the spring, went to Oahu, continued on in my relationship and spent a majority of my time focusing on my career.

2018 is when life started to get real interesting. My pup, Ben G, passed away while I was out in Illinois visiting my cousin (long story to save for another post,) I started a new job at Pretty Great LLC, traveled to escape 99% of the time, started taking birth control that made me bloated, emotional and feel weird and moved back to Moreno Valley. During this time, my relationship started to crumble due to lack of communication, the wave of grief I was experiencing and everything in else in between that couples go through. I started going to therapy in July and in August, I had my first panic attack. In September, I decided I needed to get as far away from my life as possible. I booked a flight to Japan to visit Sarah since she was stationed out in Yokosuka. Yokosuka has a naval base and is about an hour from Tokyo. I talked to my boss at work a few weeks prior and asked for a week and a half off. Luckily, he was one of the most understanding and best people I have ever worked for in my career so far. Most bosses would have told you to “Get over it” or “Figure it out.” Rob Myers was a saving grace for me that year for letting me have my time off to not think about life.

While I was in Japan, I remember the time change messing me up quite a bit. I think it took around three days for me to finally be okay without passing out in the middle of the day. In short, this trip changed me. It changed how I traveled, it changed how I process emotions, it changed my outlook on life, it changed many things for me. I came back from this trip and my relationship was virtually over. I didn’t know how to feel, I didn’t know what to do, it just sort of fizzled like a candle using its last part of the wick. October came and I spent my birthday in Big Bear with my parents. I remember crying in the cabin when we got back from Octoberfest. I don’t think it really hit me that I was single, with no friends around and that 27 was already a shit show on day 1. I visited my best guy friend and his sisters in Arizona at the end of October to make up for the previous weekend. I had no idea that November could get any worse for me, but it did. It was two days before Thanksgiving, November 20th, 2018.

I was driving from Moreno Valley to Santa Ana one morning on my way to work. I took my normal route, left at my normal time, a pretty standard commute. About 2 miles from work, I was at a stop light. At this stop light I waited for about 30 seconds while the other cars went. The light turned green. As I was pressing my gas to accelerate, out of nowhere, a semi truck plows its way through the intersection and t-bones my driver’s side. I remember screaming. I remember it being like a scene from a Final Destination movie where the victim doesn’t know that death or uncertainty is upon them. In that moment, I remember thinking “This is it.” My reflexes shifted real quick and that was it. I remember pulling off to the side of the road leading up to the 5 freeway. I felt like my soul left my body for seconds then came back. I was shaking. I called my dad first and let him know what had happened. I called my mom and then the insurance company. I exchanged words and information with the driver. I remember being upset, but I couldn’t yell or get any words out. I just went by the protocol of what to do when you get involved with an accident. Sure, I have been rear ended before, but never t-boned and let alone by a damn semi truck. This accident passed, I was awarded some half ass money and in the midst of it all, I remember being so mentally drained that I cried out for help on Instagram Stories... I remember going through survivors guilt. I remember saying to myself “Why am I still here? There are people that die in accidents or by drunk/distracted drivers all the time... Why do I still have to live this life of pain and suffering?” In my mind and in 2018, I never knew how to take pain and suffering very well. I didn’t know it would shape me for what these next couple years would throw at me.

December came and went. It was like a sigh of relief for me to know that the vicious cycle of the 2018 rollercoaster was coming to an end. At this point, I kind of gave zero f*cks as to what happened in life. A few days before Christmas, I visited my Grandma in Illinois and my grandparents’ grave site. I think my trip to Illinois was some type of closure to my 2018 year. I hadn’t been back to Illinois since my Grandma’s funeral in 2011. It was a cold and frigid trip. It was the first trip I had ever driven by myself. The only cool thing was running into Ja Rule at the Palm Springs Airport (before the Fyre Festival documentary came out, otherwise I would have yelled at him.) He was on my flight to Chicago. Jeffrey Atkins, you sneaky motherfucker, you! How I wish I would have known about you tricking people with that one guy... I ordered a “Survived 2018″ crewneck from this small online business store, went to Disneyland with my mom on Christmas and threw caution to the wind.

2019 was interesting, but not as heavy as 2018. I called 2019 the year where I “rushed to get back to normalcy.” I realized the commute to PG was getting tiring pretty fast, I accepted being single and got back into dance. Dance saved my life, point blank. Whether it was subbing, teaching, training or being on a team, it brought back a sense of joy and also established new friendships along the way. I started a job at a marketing agency in March 2019 that was a short commute and about 6 months in, I realized this was something I wasn’t a fan of. It took me a while to realize that that was okay to feel uneasy about the jobs I once knew.

If I had to rate 2019 on a point scale, I would say it was a 6/10. I felt like the last few months I was suppose to be back to normal and healed from a lot of things I kept to myself. Dating people was weird because 1. I felt behind. What I mean by that was I thought by age 27 - 28, I would have met my “person,” by now. As I seen other friends get proposed to, plan their weddings and start their families, I started to feel like the odd woman out. Was there something wrong with me? Am I that complicated or hard to love? Are my values not aligning with people I like? Am I going to be that person that gets married at 40 or even at all? Will I always be the friend and not the potential girlfriend or wife? Who knows? 2. The reciprocity factor of it all and setting boundaries. 3. I don’t think I ever got over everything that had happened in my first relationship because we never cheated on each other, our trust when out without each other was never questioned and there was a best friend component in it. I was filled with regret, frustration and memories I forced myself to black out even after going to therapy and journaling it. Fact: I dread my birthday each year. I don’t like my birthday in general, but October I have mixed emotions about. The anniversary of my Grandma’s death is on 10/13, my Grandpa’s birthday is 10/14 and my birthday is 10/20. I spent the last couple months of 2019 drinking more than usual, especially after my friend, Beka, passed away suddenly in November. December came and went. I had my first trip to Puerto Vallarta and enjoyed some much needed beach time. I had this “idea” that I would move to the east coast with Sarah because I wanted to start over. That idea went out the window. I ended 2019 with buying a new car after having paid off my Kia Forte back in 2016.

It’s now 2020 and boy... It has been a shit show for the world I feel like. I can’t even begin to describe what a rollercoaster of emotions everyone is feeling right now, but I do have one word for me personally: gratitude. I started off the year so uneasy with finding out my dad was diagnosed with colon cancer again for a second time. I remember going into February with no expectations, yet I had expectations (weird right?) Without going into too much detail I felt like that quote by DJ Khaled saying “Congratulations, you played ya self!” I was constantly frantic about work, friendships, relationships, my future, dance, my parents, basically everything. I was a walking, talking ball of stress. March came around and I downloaded Bumble (yup, I went there) and matched with a really nice guy who actually knew two of my nurse friends. Then, COVID-19 was in full effect in the states and suddenly the idea of dating or wanting any kind of human interaction made me cringe... I had to politely excuse myself and move on. I checked in on friends and they checked in on me.

I’ve spent more time with my parents, more time on myself and then it finally clicked: I am where I need to be in this exact moment. I don’t want to date anyone in quarantine, I don’t want to understand or have expectations for another human like I’ve been searching for these last 6 months. What the fuck, Amy? You are everything you need right now and it is not in another person. I’ve danced in quarantine, I’ve cried in quarantine, I’ve laughed in quarantine, I’ve journaled in quarantine, I’ve found myself again in quarantine. As easy as it sounds for most people, the concept is quite large. Since I was 18 years old, I have ALWAYS wanted to live by myself and try it out. It’s ten years later and in the midst of this uncertain time period, I know that 2020 is the year that I finally accomplish this. So, in short, 2021 I’ll be back on the “dating” field or whatever, but 2020 is my year to literally work. on. myself. This includes: my relationship with myself, my relationship with my friends, family, acquaintances, coworkers, etc., my health regiment, my mental health, my physical health, my emotional health, I think you get the point, right? In a time where some of us feel alone, I feel secure. My days vary and maybe I’ll post something tomorrow where I say “That post was trash, quarantine was terrible,” and while it is on most days, I’m so grateful to connect more deeply with people on a spiritual and conversational level. I was tired of hiding behind my day-to-day busy routine when I finally came to terms with myself.

We are all in this together. We are all processing what we need and want. I use this blog as a way to express and share what so many people keep to themselves. Maybe you can relate, maybe you think I’m too out there. Either way, to each their own.

Until next time.

#quarantine #quarantinechronicles #bloggingfromquarantine

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j-k-notrowling · 5 years

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Untitled

Hi there! Spoilers up front: this is a gratuitously long-winded “thank you,” not an Ask (also I’m 31 and don’t know how to Social Media so apologies if this is the wrong page/tab/link/widget).

--(oh actually it’s a blog post now because of course I can’t send an “Ask” this stupidly long see? wasn’t kidding about that Social Media thing...)--

I started writing my first book in the Fall of 2016. Before that I’d only written songs. One day I got an idea which didn’t fit within the usual rhymes or rhythms. I tried and tried, but kept on hitting a wall. In addition, I was fed up with the whole “business” of music—the fragile egos, the politics of being in a band, all that. One morning I sat down at my HP desktop computer (again...31) and opened up a blank Word document. I stared at it with murderous intent for a long time, but nothing happened. So I grabbed the nearest book off the shelf (Crash by J.G. Ballard), opened it, and began to type out the first paragraph, copying the sentences line by line. I wanted to see what it felt like — my clumsy fingers pecking at the keyboard, observing how the words fell into place with a musical cadence and tempo almost prophetic, as though the ink were destined to dry in this exact form upon the page, the machinery of its tumultuous birth and impeccable design skillfully concealed. I paused and looked out the window. There was a squirrel on the deck, I remember. And then I saw it. Not outside but inside my own head, behind my eyelids. The song, the one I’d been struggling to write, I saw that it could be a story. I saw it had a clear beginning, middle, and end. I saw a world of characters opening doors to other worlds, other stories, other characters. This was life-changing shit. Suddenly I was a little boy at my first baseball game, drinking my first ice-cold Coke, surrounded by old men chain-smoking Marlboro Reds and muttering dirty words I’d never heard before about the [EXPLETIVES DELETED] on the opposing team. I’d discovered a fire fueled by the psychic anarchy of its own discovery, a Moebius-strip of dramatic invention, a repository for all the pop-cultural turds floating around inside the cracked porcelain toilet bowl of my skull. I wrote prose every night after work. I never thought about what I was doing. I never once stopped to check word counts or page counts. I never thought about sticking to an outline, making sure my story adhered to a specific plot structure, none of that. I wrote like a man in love. Delirious, overheated teenage love. Wear-my-ill-fitting-letterman’s-jacket love (is this also A Thing™️ in Canada?). Stupid stupid stupid love, naive and hormonal and precious and retrospectively mortifying. I’d turn off the world, turn on the music, sit back and watch the words sashay straight into my lap. It took 2-3 months before the ruthless scourge known as Self Doubt farted in my private elevator. Am I doing this right? How many words are in a book, anyway? How many pages? How long is this going to take? Is this an effective way to impress women and/or get laid? Am I writing a novel or a novella? The fuck is “flash fiction”? Are you allowed to write actual books in Microsoft Word? Does it matter that my free trial version of Microsoft Word expires in 30 days? They’re bluffing, right? And so on. I compared my own writing with that of authors I admired; subsequently, I couldn’t get out of bed for a week. I watched 40+ hours of “Kitchen Nightmares” reruns (it’s. the. same. fucking. formula. every. single. episode.) and nursed my shame with bowl after bowl of strawberry ice cream. To think — I’d TOLD people about this fool’s errand, and sooner or later I’d have to show them precisely how awful a writer I was... I turned to the Internet for advice. At first, it seemed like a godsend. There was such a litany of knowledge, so many pro-tips and life hacks and proven formulas for success. This was how I stumbled across your channel. I found other channels which offered more straightforward “DO IT LIKE THIS YOU FUCKING IDIOT” instructions, but I still enjoyed yours the most. I lol-ed at your jokes. I remember a few videos where you spoke highly about All The Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr, which remains among the most achingly beautiful books I’ve ever read. Also you’re Canadian, and you guys just generally Human better than we (Americans) Human. ...and here my troubles began. See, the more I tried to adhere to word count goals, the more I tried to properly organize the scenes on my Scrivener™️ virtual cork board, the less I enjoyed the actual process of writing. So I tried other things, based upon other writers’ suggestions: cut the adverbs, write in the morning, write at night, write during your lunch break, write an outline, stick to the outline, write x amount of pages per day, write x number of hours per day, spend x amount of hours drafting and x amount of hours editing, etc. But nothing I tried made me feel confident in my writing. I started actively hating it, to be honest. I dreaded the cursor and the infinite white void. Then I would watch more writing videos and feel guilty about my lack of ambition, my inability to accomplish simple tasks. It’s only a few thousand words, dude — just get in there and do it. Eventually I would. I’d grumble and feel miserable and stay locked in my little writing dungeon all night, ignoring my friends’ texts and phone calls, and the next day I’d hate everything I wrote, trash it, and start over. Then, when I had no more writing left to hate, I started hating myself. The words in my head turned malignant, putrefied into spongy, black tumors. I’d spend all day at work consumed by thoughts and ideas and goals! goals! goals! for my book, then I’d come home and stare at a blinking cursor and wonder why I was such a worthless failure. I couldn’t write the way these other writers did, no matter what I tried. But I still wanted to write. Needed to, in that yearning, terrible way I suspect you understand. I don’t know why The Internet subconsciously invites us to flay ourselves before total strangers, but it does. So I will. Shit got Dark™️, Shaelin. I gained 50 pounds, started living like a hoarder, stopped hanging out with my friends, stopped leaving the house altogether. I kept the curtains closed so my neighbors wouldn’t see the piles of empty take-out boxes stacked up on the kitchen table. I traded the pleasures and contradictions and beguiling enigmas of women for the 24-hour neon distraction of cheap porno. My cat Maggie, basically the only friend I had during this time, got cancer. I watched her suffer and waste away because I couldn’t bear the thought of putting her to sleep and coming home alone to an empty, filthy house. Eventually she died and I hated myself even more for not being able to save her. I wore the same pair of pants for six months. I’d go to work and sit at my desk all day and do absolutely nothing (I was the accounting manager at a small company, technically my own “boss,” so I got away with this for a shocking, frankly heroic amount of time). Then I simply stopped going to work. And I kept torturing myself with those stupid goals and word counts, never happy with the end result, resigned to feel like a failure every day. I remember watching your “Spill the Tea” video back when it was initially posted. Watching it now is eerie, because you describe exactly what I was going through, what I was feeling. Like, to the “T” (see what I did there? #WordPlay #LitPuns101). I’d never experienced anxiety/depression before, so I didn’t really understand what was happening to me. Not that it mattered, because by that point the damage was done. I couldn’t recognize and isolate the real problem. I’d given up. Even though you said a lot of things in that video I desperately, desperately needed to hear, I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to listen to you, because you were one of Them™️. Your eyes were bright and your voice sounded friendly and encouraging, but your name wasn’t McCarthy or Pynchon or DeLillo or Nabokov. You were just a kid. What could you possibly know that I didn’t? In January of this year I called a local psychiatric hospital and told them I was planning to kill myself. I never harbored any true intentions of doing that, but I figured they’d offer me a nice three-week vacation in a padded cell. Considering the circumstances, it honestly seemed like a relief. I ended up quitting my job, selling my house, and moving back in with my parents 300 miles away. I started seeing a therapist once a week (still do, for the record). So far I’ve lost 30 pounds of the 50 pound surplus I acquired. I kept watching your videos, even though I was no longer in the market for writing advice (#JustHereForTheSnark). You kept me lol-ing through some bad days and weeks and months. I’d listen to you talk about problems with the writing community and nod my head like an old woman in church (#ShaelinSermons™️ #SheTeachesANDShePreaches), but I still hadn’t made the connection with my own issues. I swore off writing completely, went back to playing music. Cover songs in coffee shops and family restaurants. It was fun for awhile. I genuinely felt happier. But my story was still an old pebble poking around in my shoe...calling out, issuing playground taunts, drawing hairy cartoon dicks on my forehead while I slept. About a month ago I stared down another blank page, my first since experiencing that fun-sized nervous breakdown earlier this year. I closed my eyes and heard your voice in my head. “You can do whatever you want.” I had no goals, no arbitrary quotas to meet. I wrote a few lines, stopped, fixed a couple things I wasn’t satisfied with, and then went on with my day. I thought about what I’d written, sure, but I didn’t worry or spend the whole day stressing out. The next morning I read over what I’d done, and I didn’t hate it. I thought it was actually pretty good, funny and off-kilter and a little/lotta fucked up. So I sat down and wrote some more. Took some things out, re-worded stuff, dressed up the bones in silver and pearls. Addition and subtraction. Before I knew it, I’d finished a whole page. Then another. And then the hair on the back of my neck stood up, because I remembered: This is how it felt at the beginning. Back when I was young and love-struck and writing only to catch those moments of pure levitation, that devilish tickle, that rush of blood propelled by my own wild heart. It’s been a rough road, but I finally found what I’d lost. I figured out how to write again and enjoy it. And ultimately, the best writing advice I received didn’t come from McCarthy or Pynchon or DeLillo or Nabokov. It came from a young woman in another country with a camera and a nose ring and a big tapestry and bigger dreams which run parallel to my own. So thank you. Thank you for taking time out of your busy life and braving the Steaming Pile™️ that is The Internet to offer words of empathy and encouragement to complete strangers. Thank you for the wisdom you share. Thank you for being who you are. Know that tonight the stars shine brighter as a result. They do for me, at least. (Also I’m sincerely sorry about the absurd length of this “Ask” wherein no actual questions were posed and nothing substantial was communicated beyond a simple yet torturously delayed “thank you” kthxbye #longlivethenewtapestry

—Justin)

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bakudekuficlibrary · 6 years

Note

Do you have any fics where BkDk have the their “first time” together?

Hiya! Here’s a mini-list of fics tagged as “First Time”!

-Ellie

40 Works.

Before Midnight by DriftingGlass ( E | 211,528 | 28/28 )

Izuku Midoriya takes the same train to and from school Monday through Friday, morning and night. His only company during these lonesome hours comes in the form of another boy his age—a teen with scarred hands and blood gem eyes, a stranger with ash-blond hair who walks in a shroud of danger and mystery.

“Would you stop with that fucking muttering, idiot?”

And before Izuku can find his footing, his life becomes a full-blown collision course thanks to walking cannonball Katsuki Bakugou.

(And along the way he may have found the missing fuel to his fire).

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | Underage | Implied/Referenced Child Abuse | Emotional/Psychological Abuse | Attempted Sexual Assault]

drag me to the deeps of your heart by halcyonwhispers ( E | 5,945 | 1/1 )

Everyone presents on their 17th birthday, and while Katsuki has already (alpha, big fuckin’ shocker), he awaits his boyfriend’s presentation to finally get over the nonexistent (slight) curiosity over Izuku’s new rank.

He can’t be an alpha, not crybaby, overthinking Deku. Anyways, both his parents are betas, and all that genetic and biology shit says Deku’s bound for that road.

(he thinks)

SeriesPart 1 of The (Im)Proper Way to an Alpha-Omega Courtship

[Underage]

Honeymoon High by Butterfree ( T | 115,021 | 18/18 )

“OI, FUCKFACE! If you think you’re just going to waltz into this fancy-ass church with your fake as shit smile and your miserable bitch of a wife while my friend is sitting on the street carrying YOUR BABY, then YOU need to step right down here SO I CAN DETONATE YOUR ASS UNTIL NO ONE CAN RECOGNIZE YOUR LYING FACE, YOU DIPSHIT EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING!”

A beat of silence.

And then all hell broke loose.

It started with a ‘SLAP’ resonating from the bride who activated some quirk to maximize the pain that her ex-fiancé felt. A lady near the front fainted, knocking over the table with the wedding cake and a glass swan sculpture. The scattered remains caused the ring bearer to jump up. Her quirk accidentally activated and sent the brides’ maids into the air. A man with half white and half red hair rushed to save the statue, but ended up tripping over a power line which engulfed the room in darkness. It didn’t take long for everyone else in the building to follow.

In the midst of the glory Katsuki felt at the complete chaos, a calloused hand grabbed his sleeve. He was met with wide and curious green eyes. “Excuse me, I’m the groom. Do I know you?”

Fuck. He crashed the wrong wedding.

[Graphic Depictions of Violence]

Don’t Set Your Drink Down by Crandberrycrush ( E | 79,363+ | 20/21 )

With sudden clarity Izuku realized he had broken the first rule of going out. Never leave your drink unattended.

Not-so-useless Deku by reigncloud ( E | 9,778 | 5/5 )

Katsuki just presses even closer, shoving Deku against the wall. “N-no!” Deku flails a bit, uselessly of course, and futilely tries to push Katsuki away. “Kacchan, don’t get so close!”

“Holy fuck, Deku. Is that what you’re trying to hide?” Katsuki has his thigh between Deku’s legs, and he can feel the other boy’s rock hard dick pressing against him. Deku’s hips jerk forward just a bit in response to the pressure of Katsuki’s body. “Shit, you absolute pervert. You fucking like this, don’t you?”

[Underage | Mildly Dubious Consent]

My Youth Is Yours by lalazee ( E | 2,419 | 1/1 )

“I love you.”“Gay.”“Are we really having this conversation while your dick is - oh.”

addendum: immersed by Ramabear (RyMagnatar) ( E | 2,733 | 1/1 )

After the confession on the beach, things do not cool down between Izuku and Katsuki even after they return to Izuku’s home together.

SeriesPart 4 of standing in awe of death

[Underage]

Panic by iknewaman ( E | 22,725 | 1/1 )

Katsuki’s experienced a load of ‘firsts’ in his lifetime, but his most memortable ones include the firsts he shared with Deku.

[Underage]

springtime of youth by claimedbydaryl ( E | 25,592 | 6/6 )

Now, Katsuki was capable of at least acknowledging that Izuku was his friend, but Izuku doesn’t think Katsuki knows that their rekindled relationship would entail things like talking, and almost-dates, and unsaid feelings.

(Or, the five times Izuku knew he would never forget the innocent sweetness of their childhood friendship despite all that had happened, and the one time Katsuki realised he had not forgotten it too).

addendum: connected by Ramabear (RyMagnatar) ( E | 3,699 | 1/1 )

Katsuki fulfills Izuku’s wish to become closer, become connected.

The first time sets the precedence.

SeriesPart 9 of standing in awe of death

[Underage]

Playgrounds and playing fields by Stars1Are1Metaphors ( E | 16,872 | 1/1 )

It starts as a game. Doctor and nurse, they call it. They’re childhood friends and there isn’t anyone they trust more than each other.

But somewhere down the line Bakugou and Midoriya end up in a very… complicated relationship.

[Underage]

[On Hiatus] synthesis by DriftingGlass ( M | 31,325+ | 6/? )

They didn’t know how it happened, or when a concept so fickle and ridiculous blossomed in the garden of doubts, anger, and pain in which they so frequently visited.

Between scarred hands and bloodied knuckles, unspoken thoughts stirred like petals in springtime rain.

Bakugo was not prepared for the undeniable change spurring between them.

Unfortunately, neither was Midoriya.

[Underage]

Storm Stayed by actualdevil ( E | 4,221 | 1/1 )

Inclement weather leads to finding shelter and reluctantly sharing a bed. Also, Kirishima was supposed to be here, damnit.

Took It Like a Champ by InfiniteTeal ( E | 3,238 | 1/1 )

Midoriya takes it like a champ when Bakugou forces him down to give the most miserable and rudest blow job of his life. He’s the one that leaves Bakugou speechless in the end.

[Underage | Dubious Consent]

Mark Me. Make Me Yours. by decadentbynature ( E | 10,062 | 1/1 )

Midoriya is the only Omega at UA and he’s been hiding it well but there’s one issue that threatens to expose him: his attraction to an Alpha, Bakugo. After being told to give some paperwork to Bakugo, Midoriya lets him into his dorm room and is immediately overwhelmed by his scent. Unable to help himself, he gives in to his urges, only to be discovered by Bakugo but instead of becoming enraged, Bakugo decides to give Midoriya exactly what he wants

[Mildly Dubious Consent Becomes Consensual]

May-December by Disney_Princess_Izuku ( M | 8,291+ | 2/3 )

Midoriya Izuku is quirkless, a single father, and a Beta to boot.

If that’s so, of all the people in the world, just why did Bakugou Katsuki (alpha, a Pro Hero in Training with a great quirk, and eighteen) picked Izuku as the poor recipient for his affections? There were a lot of omegas in Katsuki’s age range that he could pick, so all this attention and attempts on seduction the blond was using on Izuku made zero sense.

He really should have cleared up that childhood crush with Katsuki when he had the chance. Flattered as he was, he really couldn’t accept Katsuki’s… proposals.

Problem was: the interested twitch in Izuku’s pants was telling a different story.

[Age Difference]

Birthday Secrets by DMMegsie ( E | 8,815 | 1/1 )

During their first year, with all the hectic events, birthday celebrations fell to the wayside. However, now in their second year, the class is trying to celebrate everyone’s special date…. except for a certain explosive temper student.

Katsuki Bakugou didn’t really celebrate his birthday through middle school and never told anyone when the date was.

It was only when some of the class realizes that Izuku Midoriya knows, that trouble starts brewing. It also brings the question to mind of: Why does Katsuki hate his birthday in the first place?

SeriesPart 1 of Only Comes Once a Year

[Underage]

Young Blood by Lilith von Beilschmidt (LilithK) ( E | 5,981 | 1/1 )

Bakugou hadn’t gone to class and his mother asks his neighbour, Izuku Midoriya to ask for his due homework. Of course, she doesn’t know about the tense relationship between those two… And neither does Midoriya know about what was Kacchan doing when he came into his room. A little one-shot fanfic, basically a pwp because I wanted them to masturbate each other. That’s it.

[Underage]

Top hero by pixiebob ( E | 2,579 | 1/1 )

He had expected Deku to be sweet and innocent.

Alright, Deku is sweet.

He always smiles at him, he loves to cuddle, and he is just so open with his feelings he can say the cutest things and make Katsuki feel like exploding from embarassement.

But fuck innocent.

Midoriya Izuku is all sloppy kisses, plush lips trailing on neck, breathy laughs, hands under shirt.

I Miss You by kayjscage ( E | 5,618 | 1/1 )

Izuku didn’t think it would be so easy to start repairing a broken friendship, but Katsuki found him very persuasive.

To Mend A Hero by BluKrown ( E | 8,665 | 2/2 )

After being attacked by Shigaraki, Midoriya has been recovering.A week has gone by and Bakugo is obviously concerned about it.

[Underage | Past Rape/Non-Con]

[On Hiatus] When It Isn’t Like It Should Be by gobeyond ( M | 2,461+ | 3/? )

Jesus, what is wrong with this world. How the fuck did Deku end up an alpha and I’m the omega?

Katsuki had always been sure he would present as an alpha and Deku would be an omega. But what happens the results are actually the last thing he was expecting?

[Underage]

you have nothing to hide from me by QueerPinoy ( E | 2,582 | 1/1 )

Midoriya Izuku is ashamed of who he is. Who… they are? Who she is? He’s still not sure but he sure as hell doesn’t want to think about it right now. He pushes his femininity away like it’s a shameful thing, something to stay hidden, keep to himself. Sometimes he slips, lets a gesture through. Once he even painted his nails and kept them on for a whole day – black, an acceptable nail color for a boy going through his teenage angst. But this, the Izuku, he saw looking at himself in the dress he had mail-ordered, is his secret. The dress doesn’t quit him quite right – it drapes where it should be tight, falls too low on his torso, but it’s still precious and he still grins a stilted smile when he looks at himself in the mirror. No one would ever know about this dress. No one would ever know how he felt.

Bakugou Katsuki is the opposite. He could probably be stealth if he wasn’t so bombastic about who he is. He doesn’t even whisper it, doesn’t just tell his friends – he yells it out. “How the fuck am I more of a fuckin’ man than you?” “I’ve got more balls than you without even fucking having any!” He never bothers hiding. He has no shame. Izuku yearns to know what that’s like.

SeriesPart 3 of bakubowl

Belatedly by beebuzz ( E | 4,911 | 1/1 )

“It wasn’t a preposterous question. They’d done Things, plenty of things after years of pining and tension abruptly vanished, but never this.”

The boys fumble through their first time together with a lot of uncertainty and a heavy amount of taunting.

SeriesPart 2 of Steadfast

Hero Pants by zubateatscakes ( T | 1,077 | 1/1 )

Rated T for the first part. Katsuki and Izuku are about to do it for the first time, but then Bakugou notices something that completely turns him off.

True Colors by creatiwriter ( E | 4,051 | 1/1 )

Katsuki Bakugo has never been good at showing his true feelings, but that doesn’t stop Izuku Midoriya from trying.

You Talk Too Much by DastardlyDaisy ( E | 3,215 | 1/1 )

Bakugou and Midoriya have a strange relationship

[Underage]

stranger things by failbender ( M | 945 | 1/1 )

They’ve been dating for two months now, but sometimes it’s still strange.

Prompt fill: “You were never just my friend.”

SeriesPart 1 of prompt drabbles!

It Started With An Apple Slice by illu_nii ( E | 8,184 | 1/1 )

Was it for better or for worse? Usually I could tell. But this time, Kacchan wasn’t giving me any hints. Of course his actions toward me lately have been rather concerning for my friends, but to me it was just how Kacchan was. It was normal…

Right?

Birthday Surprises by DMMegsie ( E | 8,946 | 1/1 )

It has been two months.

School and the end of a term has really kept both Izuku and Katsuki apart with the exception for brief moments here and there in private.With their budding relationship a secret, and Izuku’s birthday on the horizon, it is only natural they’d want to take things further.

This is a sequel to the fic Birthday Secrets.

SeriesPart 2 of Only Comes Once a Year

[Underage]

Chapter 1 of Love in a Week by anonymousCat ( E | 450 | 1 out of 4 )

A series of one shots for katsudek week.

Learning to live by Luciel (Bananenfisch) ( M | 2,890+ | 3/? )

No man was created equal. Midoriya Izuku learned this harsh reality at the age of eight. It was not the diagnosis that he was quirkless, which shook his life.

No, it was not this diagnosis that destroyed his life. It was something much more serious.

where All Might is Midoriyas father. All is nice and peachy until Midoriya gets sick and they have to deal with the consequences and then Bakugo fucking Katsuki steps into Izukus life and becomes Izukus own special Hero.

[Major Character Death]

Endeavors of the Mind by Kattfish ( M | 22,027+ | 3/? )

Bakugo and Midoriya both struggle with different aspects of their newfound relationship. Katsuki wants to be more open with his affections for Deku, but is hindered by his intimacy issues. Izuku covets Kacchan’s affection, but is too afraid of being overbearing.BakuDeku-centric with mentions of KiriShido and TodoMomo. Yaoi. M/MLemon flavored chapters.

same ol’ mistakes by dekuberry ( M | 483 | 1/1 )

Izuku felt reborn, under a gaze he has never seen before.

Worth the Embarrassment by Zeekcat101 ( E | 2,771 | 1/1 )

Bakugou wants Midoriya to train NOW! Midoriya doesn’t even get to use the bathroom before he’s being dragged away, which ends up being both a curse and a blessing.

Fuckin’ Cleveland Ohio by QueerPinoy ( E | 2,377+ | 1/? )

Katsuki had a stupid, wonderful idea, and, of course, Deku had to suffer through it too.

consent is sexy by The_Potatoe ( M | 300 | 1/1 )

In which Katsuki and Izuku are very in love, and value communication.

Delicate by maiume( T | 554 | 1/1 )

Izuku waited for it for so long, he couldn’t help being anxious.

All Eyes on You by ibreatheakaashi ( M | 4,254+ | 1/? )

“Bakugou!” Uraraka pulls on him, forcing him to trail behind him. He hangs back, getting a clear look of him. He looked the same, same blonde wild hair, unable to be contained- just like him. His piercing red eyes stared directly at him, they were hardening and unmerciful, just as he remembered.

His sleeveless black and grey plaid jacket, showing of his bare arms.They were still muscled, he suspected it was due to Kirishima well being. Underneath his plain white shirt nearly see through, the jeans he wore couldn’t possibly be anymore tighter, hell they looked good.

—

aspiring ballet dancer Midoriya Izuku dreams of following in his mother’s footsteps, he wants to become the best. when he gets into Julliard, his dreams become true one step at a time. he finds out that his childhood friend Bakugou Katsuki, a talented hip-hop violinst is also attending.he believes he changed. but did he really? or is he the same arrogant boy he met 5 years ago? can they work together and rebuild their friendship, and if so than will he fall to him?

Инструкция by Explodocat ( E | 5,422 | 1/1 )

Каччан не так идеален, и в первый раз у него не получается.

How are we doing? We have a Submitter Feedback Form for anyone who wants to give us a piece of their mind! Thank you in advance if you complete it. If you have never sent an ask, but want to give us feedback, we have a Follower Feedback Form, too!

#BakuDeku #KatsuDeku #BNHA #bkdkfl ask #w:mcd #w:violence #w:underage #w:rape #t:abuse #t:dubcon #t:agegap #rs:1sttime #s:anal #s:bj #curator ellie

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grandraconteur · 6 years

Text

Wish You Were Here, Chapter 2

Finally, we get a bit of Tony, and a very healthy dose of Iron Dad and Spider Son...plus a game plan emerges.

Once again, thank you to @merelypassingtime for betaing and bouncing ideas off with me. She's seriously the best.

Also read on AO3.

Chapter 2: Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun

Witness the man who raves at the wall

Making the shape of his questions to Heaven

Whether the sun will fall in the evening

Will he remember the lesson of giving?

"Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun" ~ Pink Floyd

For several moments, Peter could do nothing but stare at the screen. There was no cliche reaction, like blood pounding in his ears or feeling faint. It was like his body was stuck several minutes in the past, like his brain and his body were stuck in different moments of response to what he was seeing.

That was….that was definitely his dad. Grey hair and fine wrinkles to show for the decade that had passed and a goatee that hadn’t been there before, but...definitely, definitely him.

“Karen,” he questioned haltingly. “Do you...do you see a guy here?”

Using the virtual interface that appeared in front of him through the mask, Peter tapped on the image of his dad, zooming in to clarify.

“Yes, Peter.”

“Can you...describe him for me?”

Karen was surprisingly silent for a moment. Peter wondered if Mr. Stark had programmed her to experience sympathetic concern that would halt her dialogue.

“He appears to be tall, with dark, greying hair and facial hair. I believe he is wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, and a rather oversized red scarf.”

“So you see the same guy I do.”

“Yes.”

With a woosh, Peter let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. Something twinged in his gut as chills began to take hold.

“Peter, I believe you are experiencing shock.”

“Yeah, that’s...that’s not a surprise.”

“Perhaps you should get under the covers. It might help.”

Listlessly, Peter did as Karen suggested, pulling the covers up to his chin.

How was he supposed to react?

Was what his eyes were telling him even possible?

“Karen, if I gave you an old photo of my dad, could you use it to determine if the man in the image is actually my dad and not just...some guy that really, really looks like him?”

“Unfortunately, facial recognition is one of the features that Mr. Stark has yet to reactivate since he returned your suit. He’s also added a failsafe to ensure you and Ned can no longer hack my programming.”

“What!” Peter sat up, youthful indignation momentarily distracting him from the biggest bombshell of his life. “Why?”

“He expressed concern you’d use it to track down more men like Toomes without coming to him first for help.”

“That’s-” That’s absolutely something he would do, who was he kidding? “-fair, I suppose...” he relented, falling back down into the sheets. “But how am I supposed to confirm that really is him, then?”

God, what he would give to show this to Aunt May. The recent Spiderman revelation was bad enough, but this would just give her a double heart attack (“Hey, Aunt May, so not only do I risk my life every day as Spiderman, but it turns out my dad-you know, the guy who abandoned me and that you and Uncle Ben hate with a passion?- is actually alive! Maybe. Think this is him?”).

“You could go to Mr. Stark and request he perform the facial recognition.”

Wincing, Peter shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

“Mr. Stark might be able to help you find your father, Peter. He has resources you won’t be able to access anywhere else.”

Peter chewed at his lip thoughtfully for a moment and scratched at his head through the mask. “Isn’t that a little...personal? Mr. Stark doesn’t seem like he’d really want to get involved in something like this.”

“I think you might be surprised.”

That...could be true. Karen had been made by Mr. Stark, so she probably knew him better than Peter did. Still, he didn’t say as much. He stared up at the bunk above him, trying to soothe his nerves by once again tracing the grain in the wood with his eyes. Deep breaths, in and out.

In. Out.

In.

Out.

The guy in the street might not have been his father. There was always a chance this was just a seriously screwed up coincidence, that the man just happened to appear how he thought his dad might look if he had aged nine years...

It was difficult to think of anything when his insides felt like they had all spontaneously turned to ice.

“I’ll talk to Mr. Stark tomorrow, test the water a bit before I ask him,” Peter finally decided. “Thanks for everything, Karen.”

“Anytime, Peter.”

With that, Peter silently drew off the mask and stuffed it into his backpack. Collapsing back into the bed, he let out a sigh and closed his eyes. There was no way he was going to get any sleep tonight; his brain was firmly fixated on whatever future would emerge for him in the morning.

Still, wouldn’t hurt to try.

“Fri, be a dear and start up the coffee maker,” Tony requested in the lighter tone he reserved for his AI’s and bots.

“Another long night, Boss?” FRIDAY asked, her voice too carefully neutral. Tony had to commend himself for instilling enough character into FRIDAY’s program that she could develop such a uniquely passive-aggressive tone, as she used now. Her soft Irish lilt only served to amplify it.“Need I remind you that you are coming up on 40 hours without sleep?”

“Hey, you know as well as I do, baby girl, that I do my best work when I’m half delirious,” he quipped back. “Mark I, a new element, you. Insomnia isn’t a symptom, it’s a strategy.”

To be fair, it wasn’t like he had to keep working. There was no time limit, no sense of immediacy on the project, no lives hanging in the balance. See, the problem was he couldn’t really...sleep, these days. Hadn’t done in several years. Sure, he’d tried pills, meditation, yoga-hell, even flew out an Austrian hypnotist once. Nada. So he sort of...just gave up on trying to sleep. His body would tell him when it was ready to pass out. Usually by actually passing out.

Until then, Tony would tinker in the workshop.

If he couldn’t be healthy, then he’d damn well be productive.

Though clearly still in disagreement, FRIDAY powered up the coffee maker with a resigned, “Whatever you say, Boss.”

After retrieving a mug of the dark brew (like he was going to sully Black Ivory Coffee with cream and sugar; those beans weren’t processed through the digestive tract of elephants to be insulted like that), Tony leaned back against a large tool chest and eyed the projection on the table in front it critically. Rhodey’s leg braces worked fine and well, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be improvements. He’d noticed a slight hitch in the normally even, calculated gate of the colonel earlier that day-or, the other day, a recent day, they all kind of blurred- and Tony was determined to smooth out the problem.

Not that there would be a problem if…if he hadn’t…

Tony jiggled his shoulders and let out a harsh breath through his nose. Setting aside the mug, he clapped his hands together and approached his workbench with intent. “Alright, round one!”

The thing with insomniac work is that it isn’t really the insomnia that drives you to do shit; it’s the reasons behind the insomnia.

In Tony’s case, guilt.

Guilt over his once well-earned title “Merchant of Death”; guilt over driving people like Killian and even Hammer to violent actions affecting so, so many innocent lives; guilt over Ultron and Sokovia; guilt over Pepper, and how could he be harder to live with than Howard?

Guilt over the Avengers, and Civil War, and “Tony, I’m flying dead stick-”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony thought he could make out the figure of his father watching him, mocking him. He took a sip of his coffee, steadfastly ignoring it. He knew he was alone in the shop, logically, he knew that, and that his father was long, long dead, killed by Rogers’ brainwashed besty, but even so an uncomfortable chill made its way down Tony’s spine.

At least he could use it for motivation. It had worked well in the past.

Setting aside the coffee, he pushed the leg braces away and pulled up a new set of schematics.

“You have been awake for 46 hours now.”

“Great, what’s the world record?” Tony retorted, already deep into analyzing the base structure of the new suit. The key was in allowing maximum flexibility for Underroo’s gymnastics while giving him greater support should he try another “pulling two halves of a ferry together” type stunt. Enhanced or not, that kind of strain couldn’t be good for him.

Tony may have fucked up every other part of his life, but he’d be damned if he let this kid meet the same fate.

“Wake up, Boss.”

Tony jerked awake with a start, whipping around and blinking rapidly as he tried to gain his bearings.

He was in his shop, sitting at his workbench, where he’d stayed up working on Rhodey’s leg braces and Peter’s upgrade. Right.

When had he even fallen asleep?

“FRIDAY, what time is it?”

“It is 9:47 in the morning. You slept for nearly two hours. Congratulations.”

“God, why do I always program my AI’s to sass me?” He grumbled without heat, rubbing his eyes blearily as he stood slowly and winced at the crick in his neck.

He was getting way too old for falling asleep at his desk.

“Why’d you wake me in the first place? Call from Fury? Another life-threatening emergency?”

“Peter Parker is here to see you. He’s been in the lobby for the last 20 minutes.”

Tony squinted, looking towards the door as if he could peer through it and see the kid. “Did I forget about an appointment with him?”

“No, Boss. Mr. Parker showed up unannounced.”

A long way to come without warning. Tony sniffed a bit, tapping his fingers against his thigh as he pondered allowing him in.

“Hold the kid steady for me, I should...clean up, or...something.”

“You might want to hurry up with that,” FRIDAY said, her tone uncharacteristically tentative. “I think the matter might be urgent.”

That stopped Tony in his tracks. “Show me video of the lobby.”

The kid was sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs just outside. Elbows on his knees, he was pressing his fingertips to his temples, shielding his face mostly from view. Tony didn’t need to see Peter’s expression to confirm FRIDAY’s assessment, though; in the few short months he had known the kid, he didn’t think he’d ever seen him so completely still.

Tony felt a wave of concern laced with fear. The accompanying adrenalin cleared the last bits of haze from his brief nap away and had him on his feet and headed toward the bathroom attached to his workshop. As he went, he commanded, “Give me five minutes, then let the kid in.”

“Mr. Stark will see you now, Peter.”

Peter jumped at hearing FRIDAY’s Irish lilt filling the room, his heart beating way harder than was reasonable.

Be calm, be calm, deep breaths…

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Peter nodded his head and stood. “Thanks, FRIDAY.”

Peter had only been to the compound once before, and then he had only seen the hallway leading to the conference room. The elevator leading to Mr. Stark’s shop was new to him, and when the doors opened into the expansive room, Peter had to blink and gather his bearings.

‘Tony’s Playplace,’ as Peter had overheard Mr. Rhodes and Happy refer to it once, was a lot less futuristic garage and more hi-tech surgery. Half the equipment appeared to be custom made for Mr. Stark’s particular use, as Peter didn’t recognize their intended function. Half a dozen work tables were spaced throughout the room, as if put there for use by more engineers than just Mr. Stark at one time. Indeed, each had its own set of tool cabinets beside it, and on three of the tables there appeared to be projects in progress. Peter could make out what looked like a prototype for Mr. Rhodes’ leg braces on one table, and something that might belong to an Iron Man suit on another, and on the third…

Peter dropped his backpack and raced for the table, his excitement momentarily letting his purpose for this trip slip his mind. On the last table, a hologram of the development plans for a new Spiderman suit lit up the area in a soft blue glow. It looked much the same, but the schematics showed plans for reducing the stress on his body through the use of nano-tech. He reached out towards the hologram almost reverently, intending to read up further, when a voice interrupted him.

“Morning, kid.”

Peter jumped back guiltily and spun around. Mr. Stark had just stepped through a door near the back of the lab, steam swirling out behind him. The older man padded towards him as he roughly took a towel to his damp hair before tossing it to the side carelessly. This was without a doubt the most casual Peter had seen his mentor dressed, with bare feet, dark sweatpants, and a black ACDC t-shirt. Somehow, this seemed a lot more natural for him than the Armani suits.

“G-good morning, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, then winced at the way his voice caught. To cover it he indicated the Spiderman template. “Sorry, I just came in and I saw this up, and I-”

“Nah, you’re good, Underoos,” Mr. Stark cut him off. He patted Peter on the shoulder, then reached out and turned off the hologram. Peter watched it fade with no little longing. “Suit’s for you, after all.” Leaning back against the table, Mr. Stark crossed his arms and looked Peter over critically. “So how was the calculus test?”

The question was so far removed from where Peter’s mind was that it took him a moment to process. When it did, though, his face lit up with a touch of pride. “Oh! Oh, yeah, it went really well! Got a 97%.”

“Hey, that’s what we like to hear!” Mr. Stark leaned forward and lightly smacked Peter’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Not to blow my own horn, but I think that Stark Internship is really paying off.”

The easy smile and playful wink his mentor gave him put Peter somewhat at ease. The Stark Internship had become something of an inside joke between the two of them; whenever Peter did particularly well in school, Tony would credit it on his tutelage (to be fair, it was partly due to him, as Tony had taken to helping Peter with his math and mechanics homework). If Peter did poorly, they’d argue over whether it was due to the internship taking too much of Peter’s time away from homework or Peter’s own “extracurricular activities.”

“And how about English Lit?”

This time, Peter winced. “I, uh, don’t think it’s worth mentioning that one...”

Mr. Stark snorted, but gave Peter a look. “Too much time spent on extracurricular activities.”

“No, no, I just...don’t really get Shakespeare.”

“Ah, I should get you in touch with Thor. Spend a few hours with him and he’ll have you wearing drapes and speaking Old English in no time,” Mr. Stark quipped as he turned to approach the coffee stand near his workbench.

“It’s actually Early Modern Engl-wait, you can put me in touch with Thor?”

Mr. Stark chuckled as he dumped old coffee grounds into the trash and started to prepare a new pot. “No, kid. Point Break’s been MIA for a year or so now. Plus, I don’t even know how to get in touch with an extraterrestrial God-like being. Guy doesn’t have a cell as far as I know, and he never returns my emails. You want anything to drink?”

The teenager shrugged a bit, crossing his arms. “I could have some coffee, I guess.”

“Nope, not at your age you’re not. How about some Korean Banana Milk?”

“Seriously, you have Korean Banana Milk? That’s so cool! It’s one of my favorites!”

“What a coinkydink.” Mr. Stark reached into the mini-fridge below and pulled one out, tossing it to Peter behind him. As Peter went to take an eager sip, Tony continued.“So anything exciting happen out in the field for our Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman?”

Nerves shot through Peter like lightning, and he choked on the suddenly flavorless drink. “Um...define...define exciting?”

“Oh, that reaction isn’t suspicious at all. What kind of trouble did you run into?”

Childhood trauma, Peter thought. “Just, you know, a few pickpockets, a mugging, some...unidentifiable attacker. I handled it- him- though.”

“What do you mean by “unidentifiable attacker,” exactly?” Mr. Stark said slowly, turning to look at him.

“Uh...”

“If I may, Boss, I believe Mr. Parker is thinking of the unidentified alien creature that appeared on Bleeker Street yesterday afternoon.”

“The what?” Mr. Stark spun around, a look of horror on his face. “FRIDAY, pull up reports on the incident.”

“Oh, no. I mean, it was nothing. Just a little, um tentacled creature. No one was hurt or anything. You don’t need to see the reports…” Peter started, then paused as it occurred to him that somewhere in those reports might be another image of the man who made be he father and that he might not get a better chance to ask Mr. Stark what he so desperately wanted to know.

Just the thought of the question turned Peter’s stomach to ice once again.

Distantly, Peter listened to Mr. Stark argue with FRIDAY over withholding reports on such an attack on New York, too distracted trying to not throw up the Egg McMuffin he’d snagged on his way for breakfast. God, this feeling sucked. His stomach trembled at the thought of telling Mr. Stark about his dad, afraid of being seen by his mentor as crazy or delusional, or maybe exceeding the parameters of their relationship. At the same time, he was dying to talk about it, get it off his chest, figure out what the hell was going on. What had been going on for the last nine years. A familiar tightness started to take over his chest, and Peter forced himself to let out a breath.

“Mr. Stark,” he started slowly. “Actually, if you wanted to bring up the reports, I had a part of the fight I wanted to talk to you about. Well, I mean, not the fight itself but just after. But, um… it’s kind of personal.”

The mostly one-sided argument with his AI ceased almost immediately as Tony turned to look at Peter. The only indication that he recognized the seriousness of the moment was a split-second tightening of the muscles in his shoulders at the initial statement. He relaxed again almost instantly and replied, “Sure thing, kid. What do you want me to pull up?”

Sucking in another breath, Peter let it out slowly before pressing forward. “I, um. The thing is, after the fight, I...think I saw my dad.”

Something shadowy appeared in Tony’s eyes as he looked Peter up and down. “You mean your birth father?”

Peter swallowed and nodded.

“He...passed away, several years ago, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And what do you mean, you think you saw him, like as a...hallucination?”

“I really don’t know Mr. Stark,” Peter said, anxiety clear in his voice.

Tony must have heard it because he took a breath and it was with a much more even tone that he asked his next question. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long has this been happening? Was it just the one time?”

“No,” Peter said hesitantly. “It’s been happening ever since he left me with May and Ben, when I was about six.”

Surprisingly, the air around Mr. Stark relaxed a bit more at the statement. Grabbing a nearby stool, Mr. Stark rolled it Peter’s way and indicated he should sit down. Leaning back against the coffee bar, he stuck his hands in his pockets. “And have you spoken to anyone about this before?”

Biting his lip, Peter shook his head at first as he sat down, then paused, and nodded quickly. “No, I mean, I’ve gone to therapists in the past about it. I just...haven’t told anyone else about seeing him again, except Karen.”

Mr. Stark’s lip twitched at the mention of Karen, but otherwise his expression remained somber. “So why come to me about this? Why not Aunt Hottie? And don’t get me wrong,” he added as Peter opened his mouth to respond. “I’m...glad, that you did. I just don’t know why this time is any different.”

“Because...I’m not so sure that I’ve been hallucinating him.”

A pause. “How do you mean?” Mr. Stark asked carefully.

“Well...Karen’s camera was able to pick him up, Mr. Stark.”

After a longer pause Tony asked, “So Karen saw him too?”

“Yeah, she did. He was even in the video playback.”

“You mean the baby monitor protocol?” Tony asked with the ghost of a smile.

Peter rolled his eyes at the name but nodded in agreement.

“And what would you like me to do?”

“Can you do some kind of facial recognition? Maybe see if you can track him down, figure out where he’s been, where he lives-”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, kid,” Mr. Stark said, raising a hand up placatingly. “Listen, I get that you're excited at the idea that your old man might still be alive, but-” He cut himself off, and chewed at his lip as he looked at Peter with uncertainty.

Peter plowed ahead before his mentor could finish his thought. “Please, Mr Stark. I have to know. This is...this is my dad we’re talking about.”

Mr. Stark hung his head with a deep sigh. Looking up at Peter through his eyelashes, he spoke gravely. “You do understand that you might not like the answer you get, right? It might not be him, and you’ll have to accept that. If it is him, then...there’s a serious question about why he hasn’t been around, why he let you think he’s dead, all of it. And I can do a detailed facial recognition, look for scars and moles and specifics like that, but even if it says it’s him, and I track him down, it might just be a guy that looks a hell of a lot like him. Chances are it was just a huge coincidence.”

Reaching out, Mr. Stark gripped Peter’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I don’t want to bring you down, okay kid? I’ll do it, I just want you to be aware of what you might be setting yourself up for. No false hope. I don’t deal in that, especially not with you.”

Peter’s nerves settled into something less all-encompassing and more simmering. Despite the fatalistic feeling his mentor’s words might induce in some, his heavy dose of realism was exactly what Peter needed to hear. Almost as soon as Mr. Stark finished talking, he found himself nodding his head.

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

*******

I very nearly ended this on a cliffhanger again, but that would have just been heavy-handed and forced. You'll get that exciting tidbit next chapter. ;)

Also, chapters 3 and 4 might not be up on Mondays, just because I have a fic to finish editing for a Yu-Gi-Oh Big Bang I participated in. That has to be done by the 18th, so after that things SHOULD be on schedule.

The title for the next chapter is "Coming Back to Life." Also by Pink Floyd, as all songs chosen for chapter titles will be.

#ironstrange #Peter Parker #spiderman #iron man #Tony Stark #Stephen Strange #Doctor Strange #Iron Dad #Spider Son #Doctor Dad #ironstrange fanfic

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wiym · 3 years

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MY BIRTH STORY

Trigger warning/s: Birth trauma and postnatal mood disorders

Less than a quarter of healthy, low risk, first time parents will have a normal birth in an Australian hospital. With the recent release of Birth Time: the documentary in Australia and New Zealand, I felt that revisiting my birth story was timely.

It’s a clichéd adage but it’s true: for me, the birth plan went well and truly out the window. In fact, it was never let into the building.

EST. READING TIME: 5 minutes

In my early twenties, I used to avoid making eye contact with the family planning section at the chemist. These days I have an emergency stash of tests in my bedside drawer. I’m not even late - my period tracker says it’s due today - but I have a nagging feeling that won’t go away.

I pee on the stick, and there’s only one line. Oh well. I shrug, insouciant, throw out the test and go about my day.

Until four in the afternoon, when I sit bolt upright on the couch and realise that I, generally a rule follower, hadn’t waited for that result. In fact, the box tells you to wait five minutes. So much for sitting on the couch with an egg timer.

I dig through the bin and in my shaking hands is a positive pregnancy test (note: those trying to conceive affectionately refer to this as a BFP). I test again, and again. I can’t wait, I race in my car to Victoria Park where my boyfriend of two years is working, with three BFPs sitting in the cup holder.

And so begins the uncontrollable for the Type A control freak.

In a pandemic, there are already things I can’t control. I’m redeployed to a different unit at my work and can no longer take potential COVID patients.

I’m anxious, exhausted and most of all - experiencing morning sickness that will turn into hyperemesis. Then, I have to take extended time off work.

As I do with most things, I jump straight into the deep end of pregnancy world and obsessively research. I avoid the foods you’re meant to avoid, and I buy all of the pre-baby accoutrements. Birthing ball, new yoga mat (and maternity yoga pants to boot), and the books. Oh my god, the books.

I do the hypnobirthing classes and listen to birthing stories while hiking with my dogs.

Being pregnant is simultaneously my new persona and hobby. I honestly still wouldn’t change a thing now, in spite of what I know, because even through vomiting for 7, nearly 8, months; I love being pregnant with all my heart.

I neatly type up a birth plan, beautifully formatted and fonted. Natural, natural, natural. No episiotomy. No pain relief. Don’t even offer it to me - I’ll ask. No interventions unless necessary. Delayed cord clamping. Immediate skin to skin. Quiet, low lighting, music. To me, this was a covenant between myself and the computer. Absolute, resolute and set in stone.

By the third trimester my partner and I have the hospital bag meticulously packed, nursery ready, and the big waiting game to do. Eager for our little family to be complete.

At my 38 week appointment, our obstetrician informs us that baby isn’t showing any signs of coming any time soon. I take that as a challenge and research a litany of labour-inducing old wives’ tales.

PSA: none of these actually work. If you are healthy with no complications, your baby will come when ready. Don’t rush. Even when you feel as if you can’t possibly be pregnant for single millisecond more. Your baby isn’t term until 40 weeks.

But here’s the kicker; the impending threat of an induction and/or caesarean looms overhead. I’m told I am a small girl. He appears to be a big baby. His head isn’t engaged at all. And that the clock is ticking.

Now I wonder what might have happened had that idea never been put into my head. If I had been given the space to accept my birth as it would come. Real birth. Normalised.

The pitfalls don’t just lie with mainstream media. You are being sold something. The expensive classes will tell you that having a natural birth without medication is possible, if you buy our book. The private obstetrician will tell you that you need an induction, an epidural, a caesarean; pay us.

At 39 weeks, the Friday before Christmas, my baby is showing signs of coming. What follows is 9 days of latent, or prodromal, or pre, or (my least favourite term) false labour.

On the Monday we go into hospital. With contractions 3 minutes apart, we are told my cervix and uterus aren’t agreeing. Simply put: head isn’t engaging, cervix isn’t dilating. And that I’ll know it when I’m in real labour.

During the week that follows I try exercises from Spinning Babies to get some relief from the round the clock contractions, Jack gives me massages and on one night I even give a glass of red wine and a bubble bath a go.

Websites that want to sell me something tell me that it’s because I’m too stressed for the labour to progress. Try our tea.

Why are we capitalising on something so sacred as birth?

I walk with one foot on the curb and one foot on the path - and I do this for kilometres. Through King’s Park in 30-degree heat. Along the coast. Around the neighbourhood.

On Christmas Eve, I can’t sleep, speak or move through the contractions and we wait as long as possible. We camp on the fold out bed in the living room (those without air conditioning throughout improvise), the birthing playlist quietly crooning and candles burning. I do my breathing and mantras; relax, relax, relaaaaax. And the contractions stop as abruptly as they started, 20 hours later.

I cry. Low keening, animalistic sobbing. I don’t understand what is happening to me. I don’t feel confident in making the choice whether or not to go to the hospital anymore.

They tell you the hospital is the safest place to birth and in the same breath tell you to avoid the hospital unless you’re damn near crowning.

I’m new to this. It’s my first time. I feel scared, unsupported and alone. I’m in so much pain.

I just want to meet my baby.

Barely two days later, I shake Jack awake. I’ve got a Miss Clavel feeling. Something is not right. Instinctively I know that after nine days of exhausting labour that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, I will be too tired to push.

I call the hospital and ask if I can come in.

Have you just had enough? A voice asks on the other end.

So I don’t take the Panadol or the shower or the bath. We roll into the birthing unit and I’m put on the monitor. Like the High Striker at a fairground, I get the sense that the rolling peaks on the screen need to reach acceptable heights before I’m taken seriously.

The midwife is watching for decelerations, which don’t happen, but also doesn’t see any accelerations. My baby is tired, and I don’t blame him.

And then I am asked the question.

What do you want to get out of being in hospital today? Do you want to have your baby?

I nod, because yes. So comes the new plan. Break my waters and start the syntocin drip tomorrow. Temazepam and Panadeine Forte tonight. So quickly everything I imagined for my birth is going out the window, but I’m desperate.

The next morning we waddle into the birthing suites to start my induction bright and early. I feel robbed of the moment my waters break as it is cracked with something that looks like a crochet hook on a glove. With a gush and then a steady trickle, all the amniotic fluid keeping my baby safe and sound floods out. My obstetrician tells me it’s meconium stained, the paediatric RN in me fleetingly panics. But it is all systems go. I race from active labour to transition. I can only focus on the contractions.

I want my mum.

I’m offered the epidural I’d refused the day prior again but I shake my head. Not in the birth plan. Gas and air only, please. I end up screaming into the Entonox mouthpiece every 2 minutes and throw up all over myself before I allow myself the grace of an epidural. Which only works for about fifteen minutes before I’m once again writhing and screaming, one leg ice numb but the rest of me on fire. Intense pressure between my legs, the urge to push. But it’s only been a couple hours.

My mum arrives in the hospital. On the birth plan, she was meant to be waiting outside. She stands near me now, in the birthing suite.

I’m making noises I am not proud of and inform my midwife of my need to push. Oh, it’s too soon? Pardon me. Before the midwife’s assessment I steel myself to be told I am nowhere near, after a week of disappointment and being nowhere near.

Oh. You’re having a baby.

I ask if we need to wait for the doctor when she tells me she’s calling my obstetrician.

No, she laughs. You don’t have to wait.

With my knees to my chest, I’m told to stop pushing and so I stop. Afterwards, my partner tells me that our son was getting distressed despite my best efforts to get him out and the obstetrician was pulling back on the cord that was tight around his neck. And my poor tired baby’s heart rate drops dangerously. I’m given a deadline to push him out, but I can’t and I’m given the episiotomy I had expressly verboten on my birth plan. He is vacuum assisted out. He is safe.

I’m handed a small, beanlike baby covered in blood and vernix. I kiss him and end up with blood on my face. He doesn’t cry.

He’s taken off my chest and it feels like the longest pause before he lets out the best scream I’ve ever heard.

My mum looks at me. He’s beautiful, she mouths. Is he okay? He’s okay.

My partner cuts the cord. No delayed cord clamping, breathing is more important. Oliver is soon enough placed back onto my chest.

And he is beautiful.

What starts days later as the baby blues progresses into postnatal depression and anxiety. It took me a long time to accept what happened was birth trauma. That my birth story is ridiculously common, even amongst my group of friends, and that’s not due to our failure as the birthing parent. I can’t tell you how long I felt I only had myself to blame for having false expectations. And how much value I put into my ability to birth the “right” way as a direct translation of my ability to mother. How I felt that my son’s birth complications were my fault (it wasn’t). Too many Australian birthing parents are made to feel this way.

So I write this birth story once more, and I let go of what happened for my own sake. I didn’t fail. My son is beautiful, and worth every second of the agony it took to get him here.

A previous version of this post was published on my friend’s blog Mummy Neutral as ‘Type A and the Uncontrollable Pre-Labour’ in January 2021.

Please check her blog out as she posts some really raw and beautiful insights into pregnancy, birth and motherhood.

If you’re feeling distressed about anything discussed or about your own birth experience, please click the life ring symbol at the top of my blog for some helpful links. Call Lifeline on 13 11 14 if you need immediate assistance.

Birth Time: the documentary is showing in select cinemas now. You can visit the website to find out more and if you have birthed in Australia in the last 5 years, you can complete a survey about your experience.

#blog #birthing #April 2021

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blogkelleyb · 3 years

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Cancer treatment in the time of Covid

So I have finished my second Chemo treatment 3 days ago? Why not blog after the first? Well cause I was a potato thats why. That is my new term for the overwhelming exhaustion that comes with my friend Chemotherapy. It is interesting but nothing I have experienced before. I lie, 10 years ago I was super ill and left Kingston Hospital 88 lbs. I know weak and it is a scary feeling and yeah I called them. I found out it is completely normal, give in to it. Ok will do don't have a choice because I don’t have the energy to do more than make myself a cup of tea. My daughter is doing the rest and doing it well. I can relax and just be a potato if I feel like one. So I was for about 3 days.

Around the same time my mouth started to get sore. First kind of coated then raw feeling and really chapped lips. My daughter went to pharmacy and got some special spray that is all natural and helped with the dry sore mouth quite well. She also got special mouthwash made for the same issue. It helped and it passed in about 4 days.

But that wasn’t the first side-effect. I had very mild “hand-foot syndrome” Google it because it is fascinating, and can at its worst be horrendous. It is extreme skin sensitivity to cold. First discovered when I got home from first Chemo and reached into the fridge for a pepsi. Zap, every finger touching the can starts to tingle intensely. You know that feeling when a limb or hand goes to sleep and I mean dead asleep no feeling and then it starts to wake and you hit a max on the tingly feeling? Yeah it feels like that. Not painful, disturbing definitely uncomfortable. Then I took a drink of the pepsi...OMFG my mouth and throat are tingling like crazy. The answer? Warmth. A tea, no cold drinks and don’t touch anything with your hands that is colder than body temp. Warm that water up before you wash your hands. Etc. It lasted a day and gradually improved.

The third and least noticeable side-effect is actually not due to the Chemotherapy but the high dose steroids that they give you before and during to help combat them. Steroids give you a false sense of wellness and I get very chatty to say the least. So yes I noticed this and the fact I felt pretty damn good the first 3 days after. But I know having been on steroids many times for my Colitis the fall going off them is kind of harsh so this probably adds to the chemo exhaustion that hits on day 4 and your done your 3 day steroid regime.

So lets look at the positives of this treatment shall we? I didn’t barf, not even once. Nor did I even get nauseated. I was terrified of this side-effect. I mean worse than hair loss by far. Like I said I know what it feels like to be 88 lbs when my good weight is 135. I weighed 137 when diagnosed, my weight at my first chemo was 112. I have lost 25 lbs already and the treatment hadn’t even started yet. What was I going to look like going into surgery, will it affect the outcome, will I be healthy enough to get it at all or will it have to be delayed risking my life? Yeah it was a great big fat hairy deal. And I didn’t get sick. Can I have a “Hell yeah”

The second side effect is just as exciting folks, I found my lost appetite and oh boy is it back with a vengeance. I fell like I did 10 years ago like I have an insatiable tape worm. It started to come back around day 5 post 1st chemo. And each day became stronger and stronger. I was eating bowls of ice cream at midnight and making bacon and eggs at 5AM. I even appealed to my friends who brought “Mac and Cheese” and “Oven pot pies” And I ate them all and at my weigh in before starting chemo I saw the beautful number 118.6 lbs. Omg the joy I felt I can’t tell you. The relief....1000 lbs literally off my shoulder. I am so holding on to the hope that it stays around. I expect during my potato days, it won’t be as good. But I will remain hopeful that the tapeworm stays awake and keeps eating.

But then I got my second treatment 3 days ago. It was different. The nausea? Nope its fine none of that at all. Appetite seems normal not bad but not ravenous. The hand/mouth, wow. It began as I arrived home from my treatment. My hands and feet and lower legs were tingling like crazy and I was touching nothing and fully dressed and had a coat on. The cold air, It was like minus 2 or something out. Wow what if it was in the middle of winter how would this feel? I come inside and its pretty intense. My daughter gets me a cup of hot tea and heats up my hot pack to put my hands in like I did first round. It helps. I put on my legs it helps them too.

I have a chemo bottle attached to my PICC line that goes into the large vein in my upper body into the upper vessel of the heart. Regular arm veins used for IV’s can't take chemo drugs, That chemo bottle is to drain over a period of 24 hours. I carry it around for those 24 hrs in a little bottle bag around my neck and navigate the tubing. Then the next day I get into the car and drive to Para-Med and they remove the chemo bottle, dispose into the toxic waste container and redo my dressing on my PICC line. I go home. Except two hours later I note the bottle of Chemo is not draining. I call, and they tell me I have to go back to hospital so they can fix. I did, it sucked, I tingled the whole way but did get to ask that nurse about it too. Yes it’s normal but yes we watch it some have a problem. Am I going to have a problem? I hope not she says. Yeah me too.

We drive home. I decide in case this gets worse I should take my shower while I am stable on my feet. I do so and it was glorious hot water. No tingling, until I stepped out. OMFG again. Bare feet on the floor, naked and shivering. Ok now its painful. This bloody sucks. Get dressed in flannel onesie right away. Get big winter socks on and get that hot pack. Ok I am good. How bad will this get? Is this something that could interfere with my ability to get regular prompt continued treatment so I can have surgery and be cancer free. Is this threatened? I have two more treatments and will have a long break in-between these treatments my surgery and my recovery and restarting again. It should get out of my system. But the effects are cumulative, how bad will it get? Can they give more steroids to counter act this effect and keep it controllable. You can bet I will be asking all those questions to my Oncologist when I see him before my next treatment. My daughter is going with me and will make sure I miss nothing with my hearing and that I get all my questions answered. Thats a very good thing to do together. And good news, the tingling is improving this morning. Whew!

I don’t know what the exhaustion will be like this time. I was what I called “baked” yesterday. Like you took that extra THC gummy at bedtime (oh chill its legal and I only take them for sleep) except they are always worn off by morning with zero hangover effect. Baked with a really clear logical mind and a mouth that just will not stop talking. Like there was no filter, if something ran though my head it came out my mouth. My daughter from previous experience with me realized it was the steroids! And then we laughed and laughed and laughed until our bellies hurt. The poor girl finally was able to retreat to the privacy of her room and I would still come down the hall to tell her more pearls of wisdom from my mind. I carried on a running commentary with my best friend over messenger from the early morning hours before the sun came up all the way to bedtime and yes she too finally just stopped answering me. I think its hysterical. But I get that it may be a tad annoying to others. So I went into my favourite facebook group for women over 40 that play the video game “Animal Crossing” Oh don’t judge that either, hottest selling game of the year last year, absolute record sales and got many of us through this damned pandemic. Just minding our islands and building homes and fishing etc. So peaceful, so non political and so damn cute. So yeah headed to that group and made two new online friends and yep they probably won't message again but they were kind to me. This side effect will pass today as the steroids wear off and the exhaustion kicks in. I suspect it may be little worse and last a little longer than last time. If you don’t see a new blog post till next treatment, thats why. See ya when I am no longer a potato.

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masslessobtrusion · 3 years

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Jordan Peterson, Joe Rogan, and my brother...

Edit:

Tl;dr: Jordan Peterson’s self-empowerment does not apply to those who are addicted to drugs and are currently living in abusive households. It’s okay to give people a lending hand when they ask. Telling them to go to a doctor and get a job when they explain their struggles, how they are broken and don’t know how to go to a doctor and get a job. For several years. Is not the best course of action.

It’s impossible to know what it’s like to be poor when you will never have to worry about it because your parents planned for your life properly and especially when your parents have hurt and manipulated you for years.

My oldest brother has told me to check out Jordan Peterson. I’ve known about him for a while. I used to be really into Joe Rogan and UFC, but I am no longer a fan and am actually embarrassed I used to like him. 2010-2017 . I listened to him some more today. He preached about how men need to forge their own path because no one is going to do it for them. That’s great advice. It’s empowering. Especially if you’re a small man with no father, which is why I feel this hits home with my oldest brother. He’s short for a guy. 5f5-t6. He says 5ft8. Probably in shoes. Because every 5ft10 guy claims to be 6ft and it makes for awkward situations. I don’t condone insulting someone for their height. It’s something I’ve personally never worried about, because I’ve never had to. He has. It’s a struggle for a lot of shorter people and I understand this. I never really thought of him as short. When, I do, it explains the behavior in a way that I may be onto something. We’ve had mutual friends, but he has always had different rules for us. He’s stricter with us. We don’t talk about our feelings. He’s in charge. He claims he’s always busy. He has worked at a used video game store in a part-time capacity while attending school for 20+. 3 kids, divorced. I had my grasp on millions of dollars. I touched mountain tops and gorgeous women on 100ft yachts. I did this coming from nothing and working an entry-level retail job. I met so many people who don’t have to worry about money it warped my perspective greatly.

My Dad more or less disowned my oldest brother as a bastard child and treated him harsh early-on. Perhaps he sees my suffering as validation of his decision to move out. I’ve tried relating to him on my Father’s abuse and multiple hobbies. Cycling, guitar, video games, music. He’s not interested.

He refuses to show any sort of compassion or empathy towards me. “Man, just look at him. He’s so bitter and resentful of anyone who is more successful or wealthier than him. He’s like a biker now. That’s why you don’t do drugs.”. It’s never too late to start. I have told him that. I can recall 2 times I have hung out with him in the last 10 years. His boundaries make for a shitty relationship. Jordan Peterson was addicted to Xanax. When I hear him speak. I hear the same excuses every junkie makes. Instead of going through withdrawal and a taper. He went to Russia and received a treatment he couldn’t get in other countries. He was put into a coma for over 8 days. When I went through xanax withdrawal, I was also addicted to heroin. Nearly died from seizures. I had a broken jaw the entire time, I spent 7 days in ICU. 3 days in a psych ward AFTER that. I hadn’t made a mention of suicide since the first or second day. I refused to be admitted to the psych ward several times. They told me I had to sign the papers or the police were coming in. This was the only defiant act other than when I first woke up in the ICU after the seizure.

My jaw was shifted several inches and locked open. I couldn’t close my mouth for 10 days. I chewed with my tongue and top teeth. Because the inside of my cheek was pinched between my teeth, cut open, and infected. Every time I talked. I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I received no pain killers. I went to an oral surgeon at a dental college, with no anesthetic he snapped my jaw back in place. It took several minutes and another injection of lidocaine and cold spray. It didn’t help much. I was screaming.

After this. The abuse of my father continued. I also ran out of SSRI’s after 3 months of venlafaxine. SSRI withdrawal was new to me. I experienced it from December 2019-March 2020. I experienced a vertigo like sensation when I turned my head. It almost sounded like Star Wars blasters because there was high frequency ringing in my ears and the pitch would change when I turned my head. My vision felt a little warped too. I believe this sensation is what is commonly referred to as “brain zaps”.

I can already hear Jordan Peterson’s excuses. “But I help save people’s lives!” “I am different.” “I am the exception.”. It’s the same excuses every junkie who doesn’t like admitting mistakes makes. The first comment on the Jordan Peterson video I watched where he talks about the horrors of Xanax. It says “We love you Jordan, get well soon Brother!”. It’s a cult-like group now. Pushing books, health pills, blenders. Whatever they can hock to people in order to keep their lifestyles up. My first thought. Ha, that’s probably my brother. He’s never said anything like that to me before.

Never. It’s not required. But it doesn’t exist between us. Never has. I tried to correct that and told him I liked how the families I met elsewhere acted towards each other and he agreed. Especially as his divorce and my moving back home coincided. I saw this as an opportunity to get to know him better. We did several things together but the kids were always there. It quickly became a chore. I made it clear several times that I had issues I wanted to address and speak about regarding my health and safety. Involving my parents. Involving my lungs, and living situation. I just wanted someone to talk to. I made that clear. Anyone. My middle brother is too shy and dumb to comprehend the big brain level I operate at. He’ll get triggered. “Yeah dude, you should find a wife who will pay for your shit and work part-time for a poverty wage while being a part-time stay at home Dad.”. Knock’er up 3-4 times and complain about being poor when you have no career or college education until your mid 40′s. Yeah dude, you’re doing it all wrong. Just do it right!”.

I felt like some of the girls I dated, would’ve been into marriage. But seriously, I was so awkward around girls until my mid-20′s. No confidence that I was attractive or that a lot of the girls I was friend-zoning myself in wanted to fuck like porn stars. Or your heads on my lap?

I didn’t want to marry Lauren. I thought she was too beautiful and talented to be influenced by my negativity. That’s honestly what I told myself when I stayed up, watched her sleep, to make sure she was still breathing. I haven’t really written about her yet. It’s going to be tough.

He’s not a trashy person or a mean person by any means. He’s always been a smug little prick, with a holier than thou. Despite having the same hobbies. He never invited me or accepted my invitations. I think it’s weird. You’re my brother. Stop being so weird about everything and put your guard down for a second. Take-off the lifts. Everyone knows.

I never put much thought into how being short could have an impact in our relationship. But with all of the Joe Rogan memes about how he over-compensates for his small stature by framing shots with furniture. I realized that my brother does over-compensate for his lack of height. I think most smaller men do. There’s nothing wrong with that, except for the overly macho way Rogan talks about how someone who is insecure about their height needs to conquer their inner-bitch and start a podcast. Channel the “violence” in your DNA as he has. He’s being a hypocrite. The dude is on so many drugs and hormones, his head increased 3x. Good for him, right? Except the dude tells millions of cult-like followers that hormones are fucked up. The fake-it until you make-it attitude is selfish and shallow. The average person interprets that as, “It’s okay to lie, cheat, and steal, as long as you make money.” “Be selfish, it’s the best way, when it benefits you! Socialism is good?”. Sending me mixed signals.

Seems like he only cares because he realizes it makes him hypocritical and I feel Joe Rogan is overly-sensitive about anything that could make him appear as homosexual. So, that’s where the attraction in these leaders of men who don’t feel powerful, didn’t have fathers, and feel abandoned in the world are attracted to people like this. They seek guidance and found it. I simply want to seek guidance from my friends and family. I don’t have friends and I don’t have family. I should’ve shacked up with a wealthy girl in Colorado when I had the chance, right?. I thought that was such a shallow and shitty way to think. My parents would always say that. But, I chose to continue valuing making my own path. My brothers actually tried to hurt me during this time and that’s the only time they have done so. I think they were jealous that I was living on my own. I was struggling and poor. But I was doing it. I am capable. Going down the path of addiction. I’ve been through heroin withdrawal 50-100 times. I chipped and shot up, used daily when I could. Got sick when I couldn’t. Benzos twice. SSRI’s once. It’s similar to how someone who will never run out of money or be in a position such as yourself. Telling you to get a job and go to the doctor. After everything I just wrote(I don’t expect many, if anyone to read this and likely dismiss me as a severely disturbed individual to be avoided.). Keep in mind. A lot of the abuse from my parents, happened leading up to and AFTER my most recent suicide attempt. Calling me fat happened 5 months after I was released. I asked my Dad to stop calling me names “worthless fat piece of shit” or laugh when I’m making food. He knows I have a history of cutting and getting bullied. He’s just ignorant. That’s why it’s weird to see him with such low energy and I feel there is something going on with him health wise. He is incapable of being nice for some reason. So, he is just not going to speak to me now. That is better. I wish he could just understand, admit his mistakes, and move on. That’s a trend in my family. No one admits mistakes. These people snap and go crazy rather than admit any sort of mistake. I used to be like that when I was younger. But I snapped out of it when I was around ~20yrs olds thanks to hallucinogenic drugs. Alright, that’s enough. If I ever lose my vocal chords due to the throat cancer I likely have. At least I’m a decent enough writer. I could condense this greatly, by not rambling and getting my point across in a formatted/concise manner. Typing and writing keep my fingers nimble. I started playing acoustic guitar last week. First time in a year or so. I might upload something.

#raised by narcissists

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hopestretchandreiki · 4 years

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This week it was my pleasure to speak to another human with whom I turn to for pearls of wisdom and insight- my eldest sister- Nikki Hopes.

Nikki has had a tumultuous year to say the least, becoming a first time mother and setting up her own freelance Graphic Design company- HopesCreative, during a global pandemic.

I have wanted to speak to Nikki properly about the year that has just been for a while, and now that it is nearing the first Birthday of her and her Fiancé’s (Darren) son (my Nephew!) it felt like the perfect time.

Nikki has asked if I can keep the name of her son private, and rightly so.

It was quite difficult and emotional writing and reflecting on this conversation, but not nearly as hard as the year has been for Nikki and Darren.

Nikki has been incredibly brave in sharing this journey and allowing me to share a very personal story with others.

We really never know the battles that people are facing internally, so this piece serves first and foremost as a reminder to always be gentle and kind to yourself and to others.

This one is also for anyone who is embarking on a new adventure- be it in business, motherhood or another personal journey. Be brave, the best is yet to come.

I hope you enjoy x

Nikki, you became a Mother in December 2019 when Covid-19 was just beginning, how has that first year been for you as a first time mum?

Our son was born in early December at 25+2 weeks and he was in hospital for 100 days. So we came home mid-March and lockdown then began on the 23rd March.

Because he came home on Oxygen, he was then classed as clinically extremely vulnerable so we had to shield him until the end of July 2020.

So it’s kind of been a tough year!

For the first four months after we came home, I basically didn’t really leave the house, other than to take him for a walk. We started trying to do a few more things come August /September/October time, and then we’ve gone in to another lockdown.

It has been hard, it’s been scary, it’s been very lonely and isolating, it’s just not what you expect first time motherhood to be. But there is no manual for how to deal with the situation, because hardly anyone has really gone through it.

It’s been sad- because a lot of my family and a lot of Darren’s family still haven’t been able to hold him, see him frequently. It definitely feels like there has been a lot that has been missed out on in his first year.

Do you feel, mentally, that this will manifest itself in some way in the future or that it already has?

I think it already has, In that I have had some really low times; I have had panic attacks.

I have quite an obsessive personality – so with all the being in hospital so often, that has manifested itself in worrying about everyone’s health. And I think there is a lot of trauma that I haven’t really worked through from the time in hospital and everything we have experienced.

Usually I am just a ‘get your head down and get on with it’ type of person - ‘keep calm and carry on.’ This has been a whole different level of trauma- I don’t know if there will ever fully be, at the moment, an end point.

I do definitely think I’m still processing it. With his first birthday coming up, that’s going to be a big point.

I think it is still a process, and because his development is still ‘behind’ (technically he kind of is) until we are fully caught up on that as well, he still feels premature. I don’t think I am at the point yet where it feels like ‘okay, that’s something I have dealt with and I’ve moved on from that.’

What do you think have been the main battles for you since you became a mum, particularly during this pandemic?

I think it’s probably the loneliness. In the first lockdown, there were no groups, no mum and baby classes- no coffee mornings, and obviously because of him being so premature, I didn’t get to do any of my Antenatal classes, which I was relying on to meet mums (because I am not from here) (oxford.)

All of that got whipped away, and also not being able to have the support of immediate family... so that had a massive impact and that was one of the biggest battles...you’re thrust into it.

Luckily they did start doing some online classes and through that I did get chatting to a few other mums, but it’s hard to try and establish a relationship with another mum and their baby when you can’t actually see each other in person.

Those classes did eventually became a lifeline.

We did Baby Massage classes, Sing and Sign and Baby College classes, which we are now going to in person.

I had 40 minutes a day where we could do things together and they helped teach us games and songs to do with him that made me feel like he was getting proper stimulation.

There is a group in Oxfordshire called Birth Baby Balance. I booked my Antenatal classes through them, but then I looked them up and they were running different classes. They started doing Friday coffee mornings over zoom, so people could join in on a Friday.

A year on do you feel like you’re much more established? Do you feel like there’s more out there now?

There is more out there- we are now doing baby college in person. We do that once a week and that’s amazing.

I have been so worried about him not having any interaction with other babies, which he does now. Seeing him look at the other babies and crawling over and stealing toys off the other babies, it is really sweet and I think he does need it, it has been massively beneficial.

Those are now classed as a support group. There was a little bit of an uproar as to the lack of support for mums to be and new mums in lockdown. Having a baby is hard at the best of times, taking away the support system for new mums caused a bit of an issue.

It is different for us now. We have also had parental support in our bubble. He gets a different experience and a place to go and new faces!

I don’t think you ever really know what you’re doing as a parent, everyone is winging it all the time, is what I have learned.

I have a WhatsApp group with everyone that was in the Neo-Natal Intensive Care Unit. We talk all the time. It’s different with a premature baby, a lot of stuff is different, they do things at different times, you have different considerations. We are always messaging each other going ‘how many times a day does so and so....’

I have nothing to compare this journey to. I don’t know how I would feel if we had just had a journey that was ‘normal.’

How is Darren feeling at the minute, how was/ is his journey?

Darren was furloughed when we first came home. He had 5/6 weeks at home, which you can look at in two ways really- obviously it’s awful, but for him, he would never have got that time normally with his son, if it hadn’t been for that.

Most paternity is 2 weeks and you’re back at work so he had a lot of time, which he loved. He catastrophizes stuff less. Because he went back to work, he was more comfortable being out. He was doing food shops. I think he found it easier to adjust.

He is a lot more of an extrovert than me, he wants to go to the pub, go to dinner, see his friends, go and watch and play football and he can’t and he has found that really stressful. I miss doing all that stuff but not in the same way.

You are a Graphic Designer. You’ve gone freelance off the back of everything that has happened and set up your own company Hopes Creative- how are you managing it?

It is something I have always toyed with, and I don’t think I would have made the leap if it wasn’t for everything that had happened. The plan was always to go back to work in some capacity.

My work basically said I had to go back full time, so it kind of made me make that leap and make that choice. Setting everything up, I did it when he was asleep or during evenings.

I really enjoyed getting everything ready and it was really nice to feel a real passion for what I do. it felt really good to do something that is ‘me.’

I think it is probably going to take off slower than I’d like. I have had enquiries and I’ve done a job – but everything I do (weddings, invitations etc.) it’s not going on at the moment. I need to wait for life to start up again.

I think it’s going to be a slow process, I am starting to promote it more as well. It’s something I still love doing, so it’s not been as hard as I thought.

I can’t imagine how distracting it is having to switch between all these different roles- it’s a lot of hats to wear.

It’s very easy to lose your sense of self when you do become a mum. You’re not working, which is a massive part of who you are- your social and your day to day.

You can’t exercise in the same way for quite a while.

Your entire life switches to their needs, rightly so. It’s finding that balance between who you are and the fact that you’re ‘mum.’

You’re a better person because of the extra person in your life, but it’s still okay to miss the person you were before. It takes adjusting.

What else helps you keep balanced?

I knew I still wanted to work. I recently started exercising again. It’s weird- I couldn’t get my head around finding time to do it, it’s only recently I’ve got my head back in to it- I need to try and do more stuff. Maybe I am coming out of the other side in some ways.

I went for a run, even though it felt disgusting and I hated it. I have done online HIIT workouts. I am really going to try and keep doing that.

The classes we go to, even though they’re for technically not for me, they help me keep more of a balance, being able to chat to people- it’s a dose of normality.

Some mornings it took all the energy I had it to get myself dressed for the day. There was no space in my head at all, even a 20 minute HIIT class.

It has always (exercise) been a big part of me, so trying to get some of that back is a big thing.

Have there been any aspects of motherhood that you have found easier due to the limitations of Covid

I have nothing to compare to but I’ve had time with him that maybe a lot of new mums may not have had because I didn’t have a lot of visits from friends and family.

On one hand I feel really sad we’ve missed out, but on the other, I wonder if it has benefited our bond, because it has just been the three of us.

Maybe having been in hospital for so long, we only held him for an hour a day for the first few weeks - I wonder if it's beneficial to have him and that time to get to know each other.

Is there anything that you would say to anyone going through a similar process that you have found helpful- from someone who suffers from high anxiety

Trying to take the pressure off yourself. Am I doing the right thing? Is he stimulated enough? It is damaging.

I think that being honest, every mum needs to be more honest with how hard and how lonely and how bloody boring it can be. I love him with my bones, but you give up who you are and you’re at home with this person who can’t really respond to you.

Trying to be more honest about that and not being afraid to ask for help. That’s why my WhatsApp group is so good.

There’s a lot of pressure. To begin with, I was my own worst enemy.

You can’t know everything. Apparently, there’s a stat, as long as you meet a babies needs something like 30 percent of the time, then they’re happy.

What are your favourite things about becoming a new mum?

Watching him achieve things. For us it feels extra special, watching him figure out how to climb the stairs and how to pick things up.

He was so wanted, because he was an IVF baby, so that has been one of the best parts of it, when you bring him in to bed in the morning for a cuddle.

He is funny. He is sassy. From the first minute I saw him, he has just got this inner determination and he’s very ‘within’ himself. He’s got a real strength to him.

What are your top goals going in to 2021

I would like to get my business off the ground and ideally I would like to get married!

I would settle for not having another lockdown.

To try and worry less. To try and not be so obsessive about bad stuff and focus more on the good stuff. There is a lot of good stuff.

He starts nursery in March! To keep him happy...And to try and run quicker.

#wellbeing #motherhood #covid #business

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theantisocialcritic · 4 years

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Archive Project - January 2, 2012 - Gaming in 2011

Since this fall was one of Gamings most exhaustive with over a dozen AAA titles in less than three months, i thought Id share my opinion about some of them and review the ones I played.... Full list: Dead Island, Gears of War 3, RAGE, Batman Arkham City, Battlefield 3, Uncharted 3, Sonic Generations, Modern Warfare 3, Skyrim, Halo Anniversary, Assassins Creed Revelations, Saints Row The Third, Super Mario 3D Land, Legend of Zelda Skyward Sword, Mariokart 7 (3DS), Just Dance 3, Star Wars: The Old Republic. -Dead Island: I've never been a fan of the whole Zombie franchise, not because they are bad games, but because ive had to be selective in my gaming purchases. Everything i've heard about Dead Island however has been very good and is probably the best zombie game of 2011. I wouldn't know though. -Gears of War 3: This long awaited title is debatably the most anticipated game of 2011, and definitily the most anticipated Xbox title. The title finishes off the Gears of War trilogy with a satisfiying (though cheesy) resolution to end the Locust War. -RAGE: Anticipation for RAGE was high as shared development between Id software and Bethesda Softworks, two of gamings most notable companies, brought the title to life. The game was expected as a mix of DOOM and Fallout, an action packed, open world, first person shooter with a detailed plot, amazing gameplay and hundreds of hours of gameplay. This was not the case. The game reported to have a low total length of about 10 hours and a weak storyline. Where RAGE shines however is in its gunplay and technical feats. Overall this game is fair, but doesn't live up to either companies standards. -Batman Arkham City: Seperate from the movies and following the plot to Arkham Asylum, this game provides a deep look into the Batman Universe and is praised for its story and innovative gameplay. -Battlefield 3: Back in October I was DYING to play this game. It was the first major title this fall I was prepped to buy and I was excited to finally get a chance to keep up with the newest gaming buzz. Unfortunatly the release was less than ideal. It came out the week I was preoccupied with the Fall Play and I didn't get a chance to open it. By the time I finally had freetime to play games, Modern Warfare 3 had been released and I was itching to finally finish the storyline for that. Finally in late November I got my chance. I popped the game in my xbox and began the Campaign. Immediatly I enjoyed the game. However as time went on the Campaign seemed to drag on and on. I had a difficult time understanding the plot and the characters were difficult to relate to and feel emotions for (Unlike MW). Then I tried out the Multiplayer. I was not impressed. The maps were too large and the players were all far more experienced than I was, I didn't have much fun. Overall Battlefield 3 has amazing technology, but unless your willing to dedicate more time to it, then it isn't as much fun. -Uncharted 3: I don't own a Playstation, however reception for this game has been very good (Im assuming Nathan Drake is the Indiana Jones of Video Games). When I finally do break and buy one, this game is definitly on my list of games to try. -Sonic Generations: Old Sonic meets New Sonic, brushing aside the obvious cheesiness of this concept, the game seems to provide gamers with the chance to live out their favorite form of Sonic games. But since ive never been a strong fan of the series it means little to me personally. -Modern Warfare 3: I bought this game for the sole purpose of defeating Makarov! (Oh I can hear the COD fans screaming right now). Ive never been a fan of COD multiplayer. Ive gotten into it recently but its vastly different then the games im used to. Ever since Black Ops, Activision has been publishing really crapped COD titles that simply reskin the previous game with new graphics and stories, barely changing the gameplay or multiplayer at all. This game is basically a $60 addon for Modern Warfare 2. Not only that but they expect gamers to pay an additional $50 for multiplayer upgrades. Frickin heck!!!! -Skyrim: OH FRICK YES! When I first heard of Skyrim about 8 months ago it didn't seem that big of a deal to me. It just seemed like a crappy sequel to Oblivion (which I didn't play). So I turned my attention elsewhere, notably to the newly revealed Halo 4. However about two months ago I began hearing alot about this game and how excited people were for it. I still wasn't interested. I had already sunk $180 in games already and Christmas was on the horizon so I continued to ignore it. News of Skyrim only increased after the release as all my gamer friends talked about it exclusively while I sat in the corner playing Halo. Eventually the buzz got too great and I broke and decided to rent a copy (not convinced I would like it). Just today I dedicated a few hours of my day and sat down to play it. Now I can safely say that I am in love with the game as much as any other. In a few hours I had climbed a mountain, discovered an ancient tomb and killed a fire breathing dragon. This game is definitly on the list of games I need to buy in the future. -Halo Anniversary: When I first heard about this in June, I was gitty with excitement. Like many I feared that Halo would die after Reach and that the series would never be as acclaimed as Call of Duty took over. As I watched the live E3 announcement I was filled with hope as a new decade of Halo games came into the light. For months I waited impatiently to play the new Halo title. I loved Halo 1 and I couldn't wait to see it in HD. Finally the day arrived. After a long day of school and an agonizing ride to the local Gamestop, I held the game in my hands. I brought it to my dad's apartment, turned on the Xbox and blasted my way through the Pillar of Autumn and across the surface of installation 04. I would have played all night if school hadn't directly followed. Though quickly the game grew old to me. Something ive noticed about Halo titles is that they have an amazing amount of replayability, but get old if over played. The game itself broke down into two features. One was the rebooted Halo 1 campaign, and the other was a map pack for Halo Reach. The games renewing quality was its reduced price tag of $40. Thus making Anniversary what Halo 3 ODST wanted to be. Overall a worthwhile purchase if all its aspects are to be respected. -Assassins Creed Revelations: I very specifically was not interested in this title. Why? Because the Assassins Creed Franchise is a buzzkill. I could have easily rented this title at the local Redbox for a mere $2 a night, played it and given it back. But no. I didn't. Why? Because the franchise is story driven by the previous title and hits a cliffhanger at the end of every game. Id have to play 1, 2 and brotherhood just to understand the plot prior to the game. I might as well just google the entire plot. Plus the gameplay is repetative. Jump off building, kill guy. Jump off building, kill guy. Jump off building, kill two guys. See my point? -Saints Row The Third: Its a ruder Grand Theft Auto clone. Enough said........ -Super Mario 3D Land: Back in November, I had been given the opportunity to hang out at the local gamestop while my mom was busy. As usual I took note of the various titles avaliable, asked some questions to the clerk and played some demos avalible. Notably the new Mario title. As with every Nintendo console, a Mario title is paired up to boost sales. With nothing better to do, I approached to sample 3DS (you know the one nailed to the wall) and played through the first level. Rarely do I enjoy a game the first time a play it. Usually the controls become a hastile and I dread my first experience. But the controls came naturally to me. The level was simple and fun and I honestly enjoys playing through it. When I finally buy my 3DS, Mario is one of the first titles I will buy. -Legend of Zelda Skyward Sword: There are not bad Zelda games, there are ones that dissapoint slightly or have frustrating features, but all the titles are quality titles worth their cost. I am not personally a zelda fan, but I have tremendous respect for the franchise and its fans. Skyward Sword is definitly a notworthy title. The game cronologically takes place before Ocarina of Time and Majoras Mask. The game however is vastly different in style from previous zelda titles and may alienate some fans. Overall the game is praised for its quality and story. I applaud Nintendo for ending the Wii's Lifespan with such a wonderful title and look forward to seeing what titles they have in store for the Wii U in terms of Zelda. -Mariokart 7 (3DS): Since the Nintendo 64, every Nintendo console has to have a mariokart game. They are fun, simple and bring in the bucks for our friends in Japan. Mariokart brings the same style of racing Nintendo characters to the 3DS and is worth the cost. -Just Dance 3: either you play motion sensitive games or you don't. If you like them and music games, then youll like it. If you don't, then you won't like it. Simple as that. -Star Wars: The Old Republic: A star wars MMO, not an original concept but definitly a profitable one. Following the success of Knights of the Old Republic and the huge following for MMOs like World of Warcraft, Lucasarts and Bioware came together to produce The Old Republic, allowing fans to make their own epic journey in the star wars universe. However the game is plagued with issues. Notably the fact that all players are forced into a waiting room upon signing into a server until enough room opens for them.

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the-master-cylinder · 4 years

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When you were a child did you dream of becoming a model/ actress or was it just something that happened? Bobbie Bresee: Well, to make a long story short… (how far back do you want me to go)… My mom always wanted to be an actress (plays in college was the closest she came). I did a few plays and got the “bug”. Fresh out of college (bachelor of Science) at Auburn University – I headed for Hollywood and landed a Playboy Bunny job for 5 years. A rotten job, but somebody had to do it! TV roles of one word graduated to one line and so on… until all this “horror stuff” came about. I’m a real “horror fan” so it came quite easy. However, I’m the one who likes to do the scaring, not to be scared.

Tell us about your memories of being a Playboy Bunny. Bobbie Bresee: It was the most exciting time of my life. I spent five years there; most kids only spent a year or two. I ended up being a manager type at the gift shop. It was the best time I ever had. The original Bunnies were one of a kind. It was really kind of interesting, they were all in show business. The club I was involved with was on Sunset Strip, so everyone who came in was a celebrity.

Is there an encounter that stands out? Bobbie Bresee: I was the door Bunny, wearing the ears and tail, and during Christmas we had to wear rabbit tops — it was really darling. This one time a huge entourage pulled up, and I had to greet the people coming in. I said, “I’m sorry you can’t get in without a key.” And he said, “Oh yes I can.” And they just started bursting in and I ran over to the manager because I have no idea who these people were. And later I found out it was Hugh Hefner! I thought “Oh my god they’re going to fire me!” He was the kindest person. You wouldn’t think he would be, but he was the kindest, most down to earth, humble man. He loved all the girls and he took care of them. He was a mentor to us.

Do you still keep in touch with the other Bunnies? Bobbie Bresee: It’s been about 40 years since then. We still try to connect, we still call every once and a while. I had a reunion at my house a little while back and all the girls came over. My husband was like, “Where are the Bunnies?!” I was like, “Honey, we don’t look like that any more!” I think I’m one of the oldest; I’m 70. It’s been that long. It’s incredible. It’s more than just a college reunion. It is closer than that; we were like a sorority.

What were you doing prior to MAUSOLEUM? Bobble Bresee: Prior to MAUSOLEUM… I had received a Bachelor’s Degree in Music and taught for two years – went shopping in Hollywood one summer – had lunch at the Playboy Club and never left!! I was a bunny for five years – had a ball… met a lot of people in show-business and was hooked!!

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How did you get involved with MAUSOLEUM and horror films in general and have you always been a fan of the genre? Bobble Bresee: Horror was my favourite genre of films. I loved to be scared to death. Forrest J. Ackerman was the one who said to try out for MAUSOLEUM. They wanted a brunette and in my audition I put red contact lenses in my eyes and dug my nails into the person I was reading with – and growled.

Did you have any objections to wearing gruesome makeup for your first starring role? Bobble Bresee: I approached the make-up as an adventure. Never having experienced the whole process I was naive to all the consequences – Yikes! The funny side was no one would sit next to me at lunch and they covered the mirror so I wouldn’t get depressed! It’s amazing how much character you come up with after looking in a mirror.

I understand your transformation from beauty to beast was quite an ordeal. Bobbie Bresee: John Buechler created the MAUSOLEUM monster. His original concept of my transformation started with a cast-mold months before filming… so he could apply the prosthetics that would fit exactly. It was put on with spirit gum! How does one remove it all.. acetone (and oil). Unfortunately the fumes alone bumed all the capilaries in my eyes and off to hospital I did go Not a pretty sight. It took a month to heal… then we returned to finish the film.

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Did you play all the monster scenes or was there an occasional stand in for the full drag monster parts? Bobbie Bresee: Stunt girls were used toward the end of the film because couldn’t wear the large contact lenses in my eyes anymore! Also, B Vale was the final demon. A rough job to wear that garbin 110 degree hear. The head alone weighed 30 pounds.

The man eating breasts were quite original, how was this effect performed? Bobbie Bresee: He nicknamed her “munching tits and well deserved. They were connected to air-compression tubes worked by three guys standing behind herl Thore word tubes coming out of her head and body both. I wasn’t on the set when the man monster was used. I did phase 1 and 2. It wasn’t saw the finished version did I realize what she did with her breasts.

John Buechler talked somewhat bitterly about his experiences in MAUSOLEUM, stating – “I hate the movie, I hate the people with it with the exception of Bobbie Bresee – she’s wonderful. The people did not know how to make a movie…” Do you have any comments about his statements or some feelings of your own on the matter? Bobbie Bresee: Hell, I have my own theories on all this. It was the producers first film… it wasn’t organized, all the money wasn’t there, they wasted a lot of film (enough to make 2 more MAUSOLEUM’s), changed to a second crew and director mid-stream, even the leading actor, who was to be played by Burt Ward of Bat Man fame.

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Were the make-up effects as strenuous on you this time around? Bobbie Bresee: I didn’t have to wear prosthetic pieces – my “dummy double” did all the tongue work. Can’t say I’m too crazy about those bends of facials. Even the hair on your face is taken off (& MAUSOLEUM).

I know MPM seems to have distributed it in America on a region-by-region basis. Bobbie Bresee: That’s exactly right. As a matter of fact, I was told that the reason movies open up in the southern areas is that they’d like to get a response from somebody, and if it’s good, then they open it up in the big cities – New York and L.A. and what not. And I wasn’t aware that when they did a distribution thing they did it region by region, but that’s the big reason, and if it doesn’t do too well they’ll pull it and then not spend the money on the big opening. (Some more small talk and the conversation shifts back to the make-up effects in MAUSOLEUM). To finish that story, we had the eyes in, we had the teeth in, we had all the prosthetic pieces in – it was like three a.m. and we finally stopped shooting. Everybody went home and I was left there to have my make-up taken off. Well, you never heard such hollering, it hurt so bad. My skin was all peeling off and my eyes were dead red from wearing the lenses too long, and that was like three hours later – six o’clock, and I was an absolute mess.

What was your reaction when you first heard that your performance in MAUSOLEUM had won an award, Best Actress’at the Paris Film Festival Of Sci-Fi and Fantasy? Bobbie Bresee: Shock… fatal shock! I have since found a wonderful coach (John Lehne) who said, after seeing MAUSOLEUM, I hadn’t developed a three-dimensional character. My reply was “Are you kidding – I barely got the words outlet alone develop a character”.

What was it like working on a Troma set and a film like the wonderfully titled SURF NAZIS MUST DIE? Bobbie Bresee: Peter George, producer and director of SURF NAZIS MUST DIE, was a USC film graduate – this was his first film, with his own money. If you know how difficult it is to get something like this accomplished (produce a film) then he gets four stars for this first attempt.

How did your part for GHOULIES come about? Bobbie Bresee: Buechler recommended me – I jokingly said it was because they already had a bust (cast mold) of me – anyone could have done the part. It’s very expensive to cast a bust (dental material!)

Besides playing in movies, you’ve played in television shows like Simon & Simon and the Fall Guy. After being on both sides of the fence, which do you like the best? Bobbie Bresee: Definitely horror. You have more freedom, and besides, the TV people only see me as a “dumb blonde” – I’d rather scare people to death!

You have worked with two generations of the Carradine family, John in METAMORPHOSIS and David in ARMED RESPONSE, how did they compare to each other and what were they like to work with? Bobbie Bresee: John Carradine was sexyl Can you imagine, during an interview I leaned in and he looked down my blouse and smiled. I looked at him quite differently after that. He was chain-smoking the whole time. I’m sure that probably added to his health problems. David on the other hand seems to be very low keyed – doesn’t smile much and loves his beer!

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I have heard that you had bad experiences working for Fred Olen Ray, was this the main reason that you formed your own production company with your husband?

Bobbie Bresee: Interesting that you picked up on that. Actually we were so disappointed in the way Fred Olen Ray put the video (METAMORPHOSIS/Evil Spawn) together – we had to go to court to get control so we could put out a better product. Fred cuts a lot of corners and it shows. The ‘ole saying “you get what you pay for also pertains in movie making. The version in the States is the one Fred put out – I’m still embarrassed about that. England got the revised edition.

I realize you have little free time but do you have any hobbies? Bobbie Bresee: I go to acting classes in my spare time. My drama coach, Rick Galters, is a certified genius and has coached a lot of the big stars today. I owe him a lot.

What’s the story behind your board-game business and how successful is it? Bobbie Bresee: “Pass Out” (an adult drinking game. Ed.) has been a successful board-game in the States for over twenty-five years. Frank (her husband) has fifteen board games on the market. As a matter of fact Games Trade Monthly’ of England reported that “Pass Out” was the #1 most popular board-game in all of the United Kingdom. It is currently sold in most big stores including the ‘adult games department’ of Harrods.

Do you have any goals… where will Bobbie Bresee be ten years from now? Bobbie Bresee: Well, like most actors, we hope to have continuous work (which is rare in this business). And dream of the “big break”. You really have to love acting to stay in it… the drop out rate is 97%. I’d like to make an Academy Award winning Horror film someday. Now, wouldn’t that be a first! Elsa Lancaster (BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN) once told me… “if you always play a monster, you can grow old and nobody will notice!” Sounds good to me!

From watching most of your films, It is plainly obvious that you are not a shy lady. Do you feel that all of your nude scenes are totally necessary for the plot or simply included to attract a young male audience? Bobbie Bresee: There are no two ways about it – nude scenes have nothing to do with the plot – it’s upsetting, exploitive and de-meaning. You have two choices – work or not!ll There are two-hundred girls waiting in the wings who are younger, better looking and willing to take over in a second. Since realising this inevitable dilemma I have found a coach, John Lehne from the Strasberg School in New York, to help me become a good actress. I had the “cart before the horse, I got work before I was ready. Luckily I’m working to repair that damage. I plan to stay a life-time in this business and there’s only one way to do it… study!

Even though you’ve only been in a couple of movies (that have been seen thus far you’ve obtained a army of fans practically overnight… how does that make you feel? Bobbie Bresee: And that’s the reason I don’t want to switch genre’s! I consider myself extremely lucky to have acquired them!

CREDITS/REFERENCES/SOURCES/BIBLIOGRAPHY huffpost Fantasynopsis 4 (1991) Draculina Fearbook 1992

Bobbie Bresee “80’s Boob’s & Beasts” When you were a child did you dream of becoming a model/ actress or was it just something that happened?

#BABES

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chroniclesofawkwardness · 5 years

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Hurricane

For years, I was a night owl. When I started my second stint with the company I work for today, I worked a 1:30 PM to 10 PM shift as one of many people answering the phone if you called the number on the back of your debit card. I didn’t much care for the constant what-happened-this-time beep in my ear that meant another call had come through, but some days were better than others.

I enjoyed helping customers as long as what they asked me to do was within my power, but there were times I didn’t feel like listening to strangers’ life stories or treating their self-inflicted financial wounds. My schedule wasn’t ideal because I had to work one weekend day. Having a day off during the week wasn’t without its advantages, but it also meant trouble might find me at an unexpected time or place.

The first time I saw Kathy, I thought she looked like life had taken a lot out of her from behind the counter of the Circle K, but she was easy to talk to. She was blonde, thin but not sickly, and wore shoes that suggested she was accustomed to being on her feet most of the time. I guessed she was in her mid-forties. She was a nice departure from a lot of the women I saw at work every day. Of course, I couldn’t know exactly what was going on in a given woman’s life just by looking at her any more than she could know what was going on in mine. Still, it was hard to appreciate an individual woman’s beauty when most of them I saw towered over me in their high heels, flaunted legs that kept going until next Tuesday, and looked like they had trained with a Bloodsport-era, badass Jean-Claude van Damme, not the one content with starring in Tostitos commercials breaking chips instead of bones, and taking your place in your circle of friends. Kathy was different.

Maybe we got along because we were both night owls. Maybe it was because we both found ourselves doing things we never imagined doing when our parents asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up. Kathy told me she’d previously been a waitress at the Olive Garden. I told her how I was rebuilding my life and had had a literal pregnant pause between jobs once I’d come back from overseas.

Some nights, we’d talk long after she’d rang up my Combos and/or beef jerky. I’d offer general descriptions of the craziest recent customer interactions I’d experienced:

While working overtime one Saturday (a day I wasn’t even supposed to be there), I heard the beep of an incoming call in my ear, introduced myself, and offered to help, as was standard procedure. The guy on the other end of the line immediately started pulling his cheek back and forth. I could tell he’d moistened the inside of his cheek with spit (probably while listening to the preceding hold music) as an act of premeditation. His vagina song was broadcast directly into my ears and left no doubt he’d been watching too much porn and studying how to replicate the anatomical musical score with himself. Why he decided to share his concert with me, I’ll never know. Some things are best left unsaid.

When I asked Kathy what the strangest thing she’d ever sold someone was, she replied without hesitation: “I once had a guy come in here at three o’clock in the morning who bought condoms and bleach.”

I was left wondering why I’d even asked.

As much as I enjoyed conversations with Kathy, much briefer exchanges were the norm. The place was usually dead when I’d get there around 10:30 PM, but my arrival always seemed to trigger an avalanche of customers who urgently needed gas, cigarettes, or lottery tickets. I usually took the onslaught of humanity as my cue to exit stage right.

That’s how it went for us. That was our routine.

The first time I saw Ashley, she was telling Kathy about how much she missed. Kayla. Kathy introduced us and told me she used to work at the Olive Garden with Ashley. I was instantly glad I hadn’t earlier ridiculed the wardrobe of white shirts and solid, brightly-colored ties that waitstaff of the Olive Garden in required to wear, though I’d wanted to badly. Ashley talked about how she’d recently had an argument with her mother, whom she hated, and how her son’s father, then serving in the U.S. Navy aboard a ship somewhere off the coast of Greece, was an asshole.

I’m not sure if Ashley interpreted the fact that I asked her questions as a sign of genuine interest, or if I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. As luck would have it, this was not one those nights when we were interrupted by strangers seeking swizzle sticks. She went on and on about how she missed Kayla. I just kept nodding, unsure of what else to do. I could have left at any time, but I was overcome with curiosity, as if I’d passed a really bad car accident, one that when you see it, you instantly ask yourself if somebody died. You feel bad for staring, but you can’t look away.

This carnage involved conversation instead of cars.

After an eternity of my unanswered prayers to be interrupted by a customer, Ashley suggested I join her for a drink. It was a Friday night and I didn’t have to work the next day, so against my better judgement, I agreed to go with her. She must have had to use the bathroom before we left; once Ashley was out of earshot, Kathy leaned over the counter and told me to be careful because Ashley may have already been drunk, high, or both. When we finally got into her car and pulled away from Circle K, I caught a glimpse of Kathy through the window, motioning to me with her hands as if putting on a seatbelt, reminding to me to do the same. She was trying to keep me safe with (or from) a woman I’d known for all of three hours.

Our first stop was a sports bar called The Crown, merely feet away from Circle K. Ashley ordered a Blue Mojito. I don’t remember drinking anything, but I do remember her taking my tie off without really asking if she could, and putting it around her neck as she continued to drone on about Kayla, her bitch of a mother, and her son.

Next, we went to a bar called the Keystone Pub and Patio. It had to have been around 2 AM; chairs were already turned upside down on top of tables when we walked in. Ashley must have known the bartender, who poured us shots of something that looked like Fireball. I don’t remember either one of us paying for them.

We were supposed to go to Waffle House after this, but that’s when shit got really weird. Ashley drove us there, but we sat in the parking lot for what felt like forever. We never made it inside. At one point, she just lost it:

Her: ”I miss KAYYYYYYLLLLLLAAAAAAAAA!!!!”

Me: “Um…. I’m sorry for your loss. I can tell she meant a lot to you.

Her: “I wish I could just crawl down into her grave any lie beside HEEEEEERRRR!!!! Oh Gawd!!!”

Me: “Okay.”

Her: “Put your hand on my chest and feel me sing.”

Me: “Ashley, I don’t know if that’s such a good…”

Before I could finish my sentence, she grabbed one of my hands, placed it just above her breasts and held it there. The next song was I Believe You Liar by Australian singer/songwriter Washington. It started with a hauntingly beautiful piano intro, the kind that made me stop (despite the awkward position of my hand) and listen. The first verse is:

All the things you've said And things you've done I remember, in memoriam You said that you did But you did not Oh, you ache for something God knows what

I’d never heard the song before. Even now, I still can’t listen to it without thinking of that moment in Ashley’s car. The piano part still gives me goosebumps, the kind you get when a song truly captures your attention, the kind that form long before you’ve heard a song 500 times thanks to Top-40 radio, TV dramas, and being a resident of planet Earth. I haven’t heard I Believe You Liar anywhere near 500 times. I don’t want to. For some reason, I don’t want to spoil it despite the ridiculousness surrounding when I first heard it.

Once it became clear that we wouldn’t be going inside Waffle House, I was slightly pissed off. I was hungry, dammit. We'd been drinking, so the conditions were perfect; I’d heard most people only go there when they’re drunk anyway. But I wonder now if listening to Washington’s song wasn’t a better fit than intoxicated waffle consumption for what Ashley was going through. It’s easy for me to describe the absurdity of our encounter, but there may have been more to it. However demonstratively, Ashley was grieving, aching. for her friend who died unexpectedly. I just happened to meet her that night.

Ashley had been in my life for about eight hours when we pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex. The sky was starting to change color, signaling the beginning of a new day. I thought of a video game I used to play as a kid, Castlevania II: Simon’s Quest. One of the most annoying aspects of which is that you never knew when night was going to transition to day or vice versa.

If you were in a town when a transition to night happened, all the townspeople vanished, and you were faced with zombies that moved like rejects from Michael Jackson’s Thriller, plus bats you couldn’t even see coming because they blended in almost perfectly with the nighttime screen. When the lights went down in the city, you, Simon Belmont, the next in a long line of heroic vampire slayers, were reduced to jumping around whipping at shit in your 8-bit leotard while a soundtrack played that didn’t exactly inspire fear in, or of the undead.

Whether you were in town or out and about in the blocky wilderness, your only salvation from the darkness was another seemingly randomly timed pop-up box like this, which meant it was about to be daytime again:

I hated not knowing when day or night would come next. Even as a ten-year-old, the unpredictability made me nervous. You might say it was my first encounter with a pop-up ad, long before the modern incarnation those annoying little fuckers (or the option to skip ads) existed. This might be why I hate most ads to this day. Still, that night with Ashley, I actually prayed for the first time in my life that a Castlevania II pop-up would appear in the sky overhead, vanquish the horrible night, and send her back to wherever she’d come from.

Only that’s not what happened

II.

“Do you mind if I stay here tonight,” she asked.

“Not at all (this night couldn’t possibly get any weirder),” I said.

We went upstairs and went straight to bed. I couldn’t sleep, and my occasional attempts to kiss Ashley didn’t escalate into anything more. I just tossed and turned, unable to sleep thanks to the alcohol and the stranger in my bed. Ashley didn't have any such problems.

After hours of restlessness, I gave up trying to sleep and decided to go about my normal Saturday routine, beginning with doing laundry. I tiptoed around to avoid waking Ashley, but this didn’t stop me from checking on her every few minutes to make sure she was still breathing. After she'd spoken so agonizingly about missing Kayla, I seriously believed Ashley could kill herself right there in my bed without a second thought.

She finally woke up in the middle of the afternoon. We sat on the couch and talked about books and what we wanted to do with our lives. I agreed to let her borrow my copy of Notes from the Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky, and she said she let me borrow her copy of The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom. Notes from the Underground was one of those books I was supposed to read in college but never did. I was looking forward to reading it on my own time, when a requirement wasn’t hanging over my head. I’d read one of Mitch Albom’s other books, Tuesdays with Morrie, which heart-wrenching though it was, had been a fast read. I thought I could get through The Five People You Meet in Heaven quickly, and reasonably expect Ashley to finish Notes from the Underground in about the same amount of time. I figured we’d meet up after reading, give each other their book back, and that would be the end of it.

That’s not what happened either.

First, we drove to her mom’s house so she could pick up The Five People You Meet in Heaven. Ashley decided she was hungry, so we stopped at Wendy’s on the way back to my place. Eating fast food was a rare experience for me (but the whole night before had also been). Until 2017, I had no idea Wendy’s had a vanilla Frosty on their menu, an item that had already been around for more than a decade by the time I caught on. I’d had other things on my mind.

We went back to my place to exchange books and phone numbers. Ashley finally left at around 6:30 PM, capping a whirlwind twenty hours. I wasn’t sure what had just happened, or why, but it did happen.

I finished The Five People You Meet in Heaven in about a week, and texted Ashley to let her know I was looking forward to giving her back her book. I got a brief response like, “Hey” and something about her work schedule being crazy. At first I didn’t mind having her book (and not having mine), but as time passed, it started to bother me. Not a lot gets on my nerves, but two things that do are owing people money and having something that doesn’t belong to me. Every time I’d see Ashley’s book on my shelf, I’d think: “Man... I really should get that back to her.” Then a more basic thought would creep into my brain: “I hope she hasn’t made good on her desire to crawl down into the grave with Kayla. Fuck... I hope she’s still alive.”

Over time, my texts and her replies became more and more infrequent. I’d joke with Kathy that I was reaching out to Ashley once every season, just to prove to myself that I was still trying to do the right thing by returning her book. As the months passed, I started to just want my damn book back, and to give her hers so I wouldn’t have to think about it anymore.

That’s how it went for me. That was my routine. Until the day she just showed up in my parking lot.

By September 2013, I’d found a job in fraud prevention. I jumped at the chance to learn something new without subjecting my ears to incoming vagina songs. I was still a night owl, but struggling to work at a pace that met the expectations of my new department. To help me acclimate, management had me do a few days of side-by-side training with a more experienced specialist. This meant I also got to temporarily change my schedule to a more traditional 9 AM to 6 PM.

For some reason, after working my temporary shift one day, I decided to walk through the rear parking lot of the complex instead of the front one. Then I saw her. She was in a car I didn’t recognize, but she was with two guys I did, from Circle K. The driver’s side door was open so she'd gotten a bit of a head start towards me before I realized what was happening. She ran into my arms and hugged me like I was someone she truly missed:

“Hiiiiiiiiiii!!!! I am SO sorry!!!!” She was practically squealing.

You’d have thought it had been only a week instead of nearly a year since I’d wished for the morning sun to vanquish that horrible night. All I could think was, “Finally! Here’s my chance to return her book and be done with this shit once and for all.” I’d aged almost 365 days since the last time I saw her, but Ashley must have thought I was elderly and feeble. She took me by the arm and helped me up the stairs and into my apartment. Once inside, she helped me take off my shoes and put on house slippers though I never asked her to.

“Ashley, what about your friends? Aren’t they still down there with the car running?”

“Oh, they’ll be fine. They’re just down there smoking weed...”

’WHAAAAAAAAAA!?!?!?’

I have absolutely no problem with recreational marijuana use, but I also knew that if the cops showed up (seeing law enforcement officers driving up and down my street was not uncommon) and started asking Cheech and Chong questions about why they were there and who they were with, I wasn’t going down with them. Even in their intentionally altered state of consciousness, I was convinced they could still identify me.

I case you’re wondering, Ashley left before I had a chance to bring up the books. I think I’d pissed her off by talking shit about her to one of my neighbors that night without realizing she was close enough to hear me. I should have whispered like Kathy had the year before when she was sure Ashley was out of earshot.

Still got it.

I never heard from Ashley again. I haven’t reread The Five People You Meet in Heaven, and the piano in I Believe You Liar still makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I’m okay with that. Why? Mitch’s book and Washington’s song make up the eye of Hurricane Ashley, a storm I won’t soon forget.

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

A Head, A Heart, & A Movie {Biadore} Chapter 1 -C*NT

A/N: I want to apologize to all of the mobile readers because this is a 7.5k monstrosity. But on the other hand, I know you guys love the long chapters so I hope you all like this! Sorry it’s been so long since I updated last, I’ve had a battle with writers block and it was winning for quite some time. For those who are just tuning in, this is the sequel story to A Head, A Heart, & A Crown, so it’s set in the same universe. Of course, this AU is about Bianca and Adore begining to film Hurricane Bianca 2, but there is going to be a more established side of Witney for this one(is it really one of my fics if there isnt a side of Witney?) as well. TW for alcohol, a panic attack and weed. And as always, a tad bit of angst. Enjoy!! 💕 PS: If I ever write a short A/N, something is seriously wrong lol.

After an unfortunate flight delay from New York, one lost bag, and an incredibly sleepless night, they had finally made it to Austin, Texas for Hurricane Bianca 2.

It was already a warm day for January, 70 degrees at 9 am. It wasn’t an unusual weather pattern for the south, but it was quite a jump from the 40 degree chill that New York City was currently experiencing. Adore began to feel sticky in the humidity the minute she stepped out of the car as Bianca’s fitted blazer clung to her arms uncomfortably.

Bianca had been smarter: she checked the weather, and had made sure to wear a knee length sundress and lightweight cardigan. Unfortunately, Adore’s role required a more business like approach, so she had no choice but to wear thicker garments. B had given her the thinnest blazer she could find as an effort to help combat the bipolar weather of the south, and hoped Adore wouldn’t drench it in sweat. Especially since they were filming in HD.

They had managed to rent out an adult continuing education school for a couple of days to film some of the classroom scenes, which was way more realistic than doing it in front of a green screen on a Hollywood set. It felt more authentic to Bianca, thus making it easier to get into character

“How are you feeling?” Bianca asked, peering at Adore curiously through her heavily lashed eyelids.

They stepped through the maroon double doors of the school, feeling instant relief as the air conditioner hit their skin. For being an adult school, Bianca was surprised at how well kept it was. It was huge, first of all. There was a large stadium in the back, and the hallways were long and wide. She smirked to herself and thought, that’s what she said. It really was the perfect place for the movie.

Today was their first day on set of Hurricane Bianca 2, and Miss Del Rio would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous about it. She knew Adore had a little bit of acting experience, but never performed in an actual movie setting before other than on drag race. Which she was fabulous on.

Well, in the last acting challenge of the season anyway.

“I’m great!” Adore bubbled nervously, twirling a piece of blonde hair around her finger.

Adore definitely wasn’t great. Her wig was sticking to her forehead from the humidity, her palms were clammy from nerves, and she had only gotten 2 hours of sleep last night. She had spent the better part of yesterday going over lines on the plane, trying her hardest to drill them into her head. This wasn’t drag race, she couldn’t charm her way through the movie if she didn’t know her lines. She was already feeling like a catastrophe and she hadn’t even uttered her first line.

“You’re doing it again.” Bianca warned, eyeing Adore closely. She had been running her hands through her hair all morning long, which B learned a long time ago was a nervous habit of hers. When she was anxious, Adore was more susceptible to crumbling under the slightest bit of pressure, even if she knew what she was doing. She was easy to psych herself out, which B didn’t understand because she was so talented. She just needed the confidence to go behind it. B was worried about her performance later today, to say the very least.

“Ugh, you know my every weakness!” Adore exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration. The last thing she wanted was for Bianca to worry about her today.

Twirling her hair around her fingers was one of many signature nervous habits.

And Adore was incredibly nervous.

This was her first major role on screen since drag race, and it was in Bianca’s movie. She knew she couldn’t possibly afford to fuck it up, and was well aware that she’d be compared to Bianca every second she was on set.

Bianca would work on something until she got the job done, no matter how long that took. Adore on the other hand, could only do so much before she began to fade or lose passion. Whenever she lost passion, she lost interest because she found no point in continuing if she wasn’t giving it her all. She was the type of person that needed to step away from a project and come back to it later.

Their work ethics were quite different, but what worked for Bianca was too intense for Adore, and vice versa. Adore was scheduled on a really intense filming schedule, since she had such a big role - she had been cast as Miss Del Rio’s student teacher who was in almost all of the scenes. She knew it was going to be really challenging for her, but for the time being, Adore didn’t have much of a choice. She would have to do her best to work through the long hours and the many lines of script. All while impressing her peers, and not pissing off Bianca herself.

“You got this, it’ll be okay.” Bianca encouraged warmly, noticing the unusual quiet atmosphere between the two of them. Their heels were clicking together in unison as they walked down the school hallways. Adore found comfort in their walk together, and smiled to herself as she looked down at their coordinated heels: both were wearing modest looking black pumps. The matching shoes had been Adore’s idea, and she didn’t expect B to agree to it - though she was thrilled when she did.

Adore nodded silently as they made their way towards the classroom. It was weird seeing so many cameras inside of a school. Camera men were everywhere, rushing back and forth to get supplies and other equipment ready for the first scene.

They came to a hault in front of the burgundy classroom door, both of them staring nervously at the bright gold star stuck to the center of it that was labeled “Room 5, Miss Del Rio’s Room.” This was it. The begining to their very crazy first day of filming.

Adore reached for the door handle but was stopped abruptly.

“Hey, hang on a second.” Bianca murmured, gently grabbing Adore’s hand.

“What is it?” Adore asked confused. She knew she had been very quiet, but that was mostly because she was running through her lines in her head over and over again. She was just trying to get the right characterization down, which was proving to be more challenging than what she realized.

“Listen, you’re going to be great.” Bianca soothed, stroking Adore’s cheek gently. She swore she melted underneath her warm hands every time. She smiled as Bianca cupped her cheek and pecked it softly. “Please don’t worry. It’s okay to mess up. Nobody is perfect. You should’ve seen me on the set of the first movie, I didn’t know shit!”

Adore smiled at Bianca’s valiant efforts at comforting her in her time of need. She couldn’t imagine Bianca ever truly fucking up at anything, especially since she was such a seasoned performer. In her mind, it was completely unrealistic to even imagine such a thing. But what Bianca was trying to tell her was exactly what she needed to hear, despite it not really breaking down the voice inside her head telling her otherwise.

“Thanks B.” Adore smiled weakly, putting on her best game face.

As soon as they opened the door to the room, they were swarmed by a whirlwind of crew members. People were speaking into walkie talkies, taking notes, and re-arranging cast members. Bianca was immediately surrounded by a swarm of people asking her questions, powdering her face and meticulously checking every single angle of her outfit.

There were already extras waiting on set, sitting down neatly at the schoolroom desks and off to the side of the classroom. The front of the room had a blackboard, podium and teachers desk. It looked just like any real classroom would look.

When the crew was satisfied with Bianca’s appearance, they moved quickly over to Adore. One woman blotted her nose and forehead, while another person removed the lipstick print from her cheek swiftly with a makeup wipe. Bianca had left it no earlier then 2 minutes ago, and just like that it was gone. She was stunned, the crew had combs, wipes, makeup brushes all within reach. Her long blonde waves were combed out a little more by a shy looking intern. When she was satisfied with the way that it looked, she sprayed her vigorously with a can of hairspray. A cloud of product surrounded her, and Adore swore they used at least half of the bottle on her.

“Jeez get the hair, not the actress!” A nearby camera man howled as he saw Adore squint her eyes shut.

“You’re unlockable. It’s not fair.” The intern, who Adore learned was named Mary, muttered. Adore chuckled and thanked her, mentally noting that she already liked the girl.

“Places everyone! Let’s start with Miss Del Rio.” Matt called. The crew shuffled Adore out of the camera’s view and off to the side.

Bianca cleared her throat nervously and looked directly into the camera. She had done this a million times over, but yet felt a little anxious with Adore watching her on the side of the room. She didn’t want to let her down, or make her feel like she had lost her spark.

She smoothed down her white cardigan, and straightened out her paisley print dress. They had gotten a few of the student actors back from the last movie, including her favorite student “Bathmat.” She smirked at her as she spotted her near the back wall of the classroom. The whole bathmat bit from the first movie had been improv on her part, probably her most favorite improvisation she had ever done.

Action!” Matt shouted.

“Guess who’s back? That’s right children, I’m here to actually teach you something this year.” She smiled for the camera and paused dramatically. She slammed her fist down on her podium, startling the students. “You. Yeah, I’m talking to you Bathmat!” Bianca yelled, going deeper into her dialogue as she continued to pick on the girl.

Adore watched in wonder as she breezed through her lines. It was like Bianca had a switch that she would turn on everytime she got in front of a camera. She would go from a normal human being to Bianca Del Rio, one of the only queens that could read you to filth within seconds of meeting you. It was amazing to watch.

“I hate her.”

Adore turned around and noticed Willam had arrived to the set. A day early, Adore realized grimly.

“Why?” Adore asked, making sure she didn’t seem too uninterested in the conversation. She really couldn’t care less about who he hated, but Willam and his antics truly scared her. He was so honest, and always made her feel incredibly stupid whenever they got into debates about current events. She would rather be short with him then spend all of her free time arguing.

“She’s a natural actor, and it’s not fair. I saw her shoot pretty much half of the first movie in just one take. Do you know how fucking rare that is?” Willam hissed into Adore’s ear, trying to talk low so the camera’s wouldn’t pick up the sound.

“You’re telling me.” Adore muttered, now even more nervous than before. Bianca had conveniently failed to mention that part earlier. She had made it seem like she had fucked up a ton when they were talking about the first one on the plane. But seeing that she was clearly over exaggerating to make her feel better, just made her feel even more nervous. She was going to look like a moron if she messed up.

“And cut! Fantastic. Let’s clear the set and prep for Miss Delano’s debut!”

“Fuck me gently!” Adore groaned, but soft enough so only Willam heard. She didn’t wanna seem ungrateful for the opportunity because this whole experience was a huge deal. But at the same time she was terrified.

“Are you nervous?” Willam asked bewildered.

“Of course I am. This is Bianca’s fucking movie.” Adore exclaimed.

“Bitch we were all nervous. We all thought she was gonna kill us every time we fucked up. Every time we’d fuck up, she would give us the worst look ever. I mean, seriously if looks could kill: we all would have died. Then, whenever we were done filming for the day she’d read us all to filth afterwards. But since it’s you, she’ll probably just shove her dick down your throat a few more times than normal and call it a punishment.” Willam shrugged.

Great, like that was going to make her feel better.

Adore heard a loud roar of laughter, and realized that Bianca must have heard the tail end of their conversation. She smirked as she heard B’s signature laugh ring throughout the set, making her chuckle along with her.

“I’m going to shove my foot up your ass if you don’t shut the fuck up.” Bianca exclaimed in between cackles.

“The old man has supersonic hearing.” Willam said annoyed.

“Yeah and you have a thing for imported skinny blonde twinks. Your point?” Bianca cocked her head, grinning at Willam knowingly.

Adore grinned amused at her other half. Bianca winked at her before she turned her attention to one of the crewmembers.

Bianca was talking about Courtney of course. Willam and Courtney had this weird on again, off again fling going on. Sometimes they’d be together, sometimes they wouldn’t. Adore had learned to stop asking about it after awhile, but she knew they made each other happy and they would always made it work when they wanted it to. But when they were on good terms, they also kept their relationship under wraps; probably because they couldn’t stay serious.

However, for the time being they had had some sort of falling out again- usually it was because Willam was a bit of a whore, but Adore was never sure.

Flustered from Bianca’s comment, and now beet red, Willam excused himself to get a glass of water.

“Okay Adore, you’re up.” Matt, the director called.

Adore gulped, feeling the butterflies in her stomach resurface as she was escorted to the front of the classroom. She was suddenly feeling really hot again.

“Okay Adore, do you remember your lines?” Mary asked.

“Yeah totes. I got this!” Adore exclaimed.

“Great! So I’ll count it down then.” Matt said.

Bianca shared a look with her, trying to read her emotions to see if she really ‘had it’. Oddly enough, she couldn’t really tell how she was feeling. Adore looked at peace, despite being a nervous wreck earlier.

“3, 2, 1 and action!”

“Hi, Miss Del Rio?” Adore entered the room, doing her best to look intimidated.

Bianca’s lips twitched up ever so slightly. Adore was starting out strong, already fitting the part as the incredibly hot student teacher. It reminded her of the beginning of a cheesy porno, where the hot girl teases the teacher and acts innocently before they fucked. Before Bianca lost it and ruined the scene for the both of them, she did her best to correct herself, making sure that she was giving Adore the meanest mug of her life.

“Who the fuck are you?” Bianca snapped, making sure to scan Adore’s outfit with disgust. Adore was dressed very much out of character, in a small knee length plaid pencil skirt and black blazer. She was holding a binder and a clipboard as well, and had a small black satchel wrapped around her body.

“I’m your new student teacher!” Adore exclaimed excitedly.

“You must have the wrong classroom sweetie. I don’t do student teachers.” Bianca sneered putting air quotes around student teachers.

“Well…” Adore trailed off.

Fuck. Her line. What was her next line?

There was an awkward pause. Bianca froze as she began to see Adore’s mask come off. She looked petrified. She had forgotton her line.

Ugh, she had told her she needed to go over her lines more.

“Line?” Adore asked meekly.

“Cut!” Matt called. “Can we get Adore her line?”

“ ‘Well, you don’t have to do me Miss Del Rio, but you can give me a task to help the students with.’”Mary read from the script.

“Oh okay!” Adore said, running the lines through her head a couple more times.

Bianca waited patiently as Adore mouthed the lines quickly over and over again.

“It’s okay Adore. You’re doing good so far.” Bianca encouraged.

“I’m ready.” Adore announced.

“Great.” Matt said monotonically. “Action.”

“Well, you don’t have to do me Miss Del Rio, but you can at least give me a task to help the students with.” Adore snapped back bitchily.

Just a minor setback: you got this, Adore thought.

“Miss Delano was it?” Bianca asked sweetly, stepping towards her. Her heels clicked ominously against the tile as she approached the young girl. She stopped, standing only inches away from her. She glared at her through her heavily lined eyes, making sure she had her attention.

“Y-yes.” Adore stammered.

“First of all, your skirt doesn’t match your outfit. Secondly, this is my classroom which means it’s my rules. If you want any chance at doing anything successfully as a teacher, you will listen to me. Understood?” Bianca spat, lips only inches away from hers now. She did her best to glare deeply into the younger queen’s eyes, resisting the urge to kiss her plump, pink lips.

Adore was so shocked by how well Bianca just acted that she erupted into nervous laughter. First it started out as a giggle, then it turned into a long roar. The laugh went on for a few minutes, varying from cackling to pure hysteria.

The room was silent as Adore laughed loudly to herself. If you dropped a pin on the floor, you would probably be able to hear it from the parking lot.

Bianca froze, her heart pounding nervously as she scanned the room. The classroom shared the same look of confusion and being absolutely mortified at the same time. She was afraid to even look at Matt, hoping that he wouldn’t be getting too frustrated with Adore. This was only the second time she had messed up, but she had already been somewhat unprofessional on set.

Bianca didn’t know what had come over her, maybe it was the nerves; but she could not stop laughing for whatever reason. She began fidgeting nervously with her rings, twisting and turning as she pretended to disappear. She sent up a silent prayer, hoping Matt wouldn’t yell at Adore.

Get it together Adore, Adore thought to herself.

Adore was trying her hardest to hold it together and calm down, and finally got herself down to a giggle when she looked around the room.

Matt, the director, didn’t look the slightest bit amused. The crew was silent, they all looked incredibly uncomfortable - some even looked afraid by the sudden outburst.

Then she looked up at Bianca, who looked horrified. Adore felt her heart stop as she saw how grim Bianca looked. Her lips were pursed tightly together as she had her arms crossed in front of her.

Fuck.

She was fucking up her movie.

Everything that Adore had reassured Bianca wouldn’t happen, was happening, She wanted to he professional for her, and make the role work for her. She wished she could just erase what had happened just now, but alas it happened. Now Bianca probably thought she didn’t know what the fuck she was doing, and most likely had zero confidence in her ability to act professional.

She didn’t want to look like a failure to her.

She felt her chest tightening and tears start to sting her eyes as they threatened to come out. Her heart ached, she felt like shit.

She was humiliated.

She felt like she was going to have a panic attack.

Everyone in the room was staring at her, waiting for her to explain herself.

Adore felt her chest tightening as she tried to figure out what to say. She was finding it harder to breathe in the tense atmosphere. She saw two makeup artists share a look and Adore realized something. They were all thinking that the rumors that they had heard about her were true. That she was lazy, unprepared, and unprofessional. It was written all over their faces.

“I, um. I need a minute.” Adore gasped, turning away from Bianca and running out of the room.

Bianca looked after her with wide eyes as the door slammed shut behind her. What the fuck just happened?

“It’s a good thing she’s charismatic.” Willam mumbled, leaning against the far wall of the classroom. He was happy he wasn’t the center of attention for the time being.

“Shut the fuck up Willam.” Bianca snapped irritated. His commentary was underappreciated, and Bianca was one snarky comment away from punching him in the face.

“Can you go and talk to her? We’re on a pretty tight schedule.” Matt asked annoyed, examining his clipboard.

“Certainly. I sincerely apologize.” Bianca said, rushing out of the classroom.

———————–

Adore was standing in the unisex bathroom, trying to get her breathing under control,

She had to go back in there.

Why was she like this?

She looked at herself in the mirror as she wondered.

What made her act like this?

She sighed as she turned on the water faucet, splashing water on her cheeks where the mascara had run. She had been crying from the second she ran out of the room and hadn’t stopped. Her eyes stung from the mascara irritating her tear ducts.

“Why can’t I be more like her?” Adore asked herself, thinking about Bianca and her strong work ethic. Why couldn’t she be mature enough to handle a serious gig? She sighed to herself, feeling a breakdown coming as she dried her hands with a papertowel.

“You can.”

Adore jumped at the unexpected voice. Startled, she turned around and saw Bianca staring at her sadly.

“When did you get here?” Adore frowned, even more embarrassed now than before.

“About a minute ago.” Bianca answered, as she leaned against one of the bathroom stalls. “Nice to know these are just as disgusting as how I remembered them.”

Adore giggled softly, but then stopped when she looked in the mirror at her. Bianca looked visibly upset. It wasnt often B let her guard down enough for you to actually read her real emotions, but she could tell she was disappointed in her.

“Look, B I’m really sorry. I don’t know what came over me. You were just so impressive, and I knew you were amazing but I guess I never realized how incredible of an actor you really are. When we were doing that scene, you just blew me away and I guess I just didn’t know how else to react.” Adore confessed.

“Adore, this is a serious job. This isn’t a gig at a club or a concert.” Bianca started. “I didn’t expect you to memorize all of your lines, but I did expect you to act professional.”

“You’re saying a concert isn’t a serious job?” Adore raised her voice annoyed, bypassing the second half of what Bianca had said to her. What, so now her work wasn’t valid?

Bianca had instantly regretted her words the minute they left her lips. She sighed frustrated.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Bianca groaned.

“Do you realize I perform live in front of an audience of at least a couple thousand people now? I have to train my voice vigorously and follow a strict diet. I have to eat foods that nourish my vocal chords at least once a day, otherwise my performance is altered. I practice singing every single day. Somedays I can hardly even speak, you of all people should know that.” Adore snapped.

“Adore, your work is valid. I know what you do is hard. What I was trying to say, was that being in a movie is a different kind of hard. One that you aren’t necessarily used to. Not even well trained actors are used to this-”

“I’m not stupid. I don’t have to be a well trained actor to do well in your movie Roy.” Adore spat. She was angry now. B clearly thought that she was a complete idiot, and didn’t understand how being part of a film worked at all. Yes it was foreign to her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t acclimate to it.

Bianca felt her throat close as Adore’s blue eyes pierced hers angrily. She really didn’t mean to upset her, she was just trying to explain the difference to her. She thought maybe it would help calm her down enough to go back to the set.

Clearly, that wasn’t happening now.

“Well, you’re obviously in the wrong state of mind to continue filming today. I’ll go tell Matt-”

“No. We’re fucking finishing this today. I’m not a diva that has a meltdown and just walks off when shit hits the fan.” Adore interrupted, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I’ll meet you back on set. We’ve already lost enough time.”

Adore stormed out of the bathroom and left a very confused yet stunned Bianca in her dust.

I’ll show her, Adore thought.

————————–

“Action.” Matt called wearily, noticing the tense atmosphere between the two of them.

Bianca and Adore had resumed their positions in the scene. The tension between them was very thick, the rest of the cast could tell something had happened between the two of them once they had returned. Usually Bianca would tease the other crew members and joke around with everyone, but instead she stood rigidly as they touched up her hair and makeup. The room had been unusually quiet, until they had begun the scene again anyway.

“My skirt may not match my outfit, but at least I know how to apply makeup for daytime. Have you ever heard of a color other than black?” Adore grimaced, gesturing to Bianca’s heavy eyeshadow.

The two had no problem going through the rest of their lines, especially since the scripted exchange was negative. Adore felt like she wasn’t even acting anymore, she was allowing herself to truly be a bitch to Bianca.

So this is what it felt like to get into character, Adore thought.

Bianca was impressed. Adore had whizzed through the rest of her lines in one take, which was the exact opposite of what she had expected from her, especially after her mini meltdown. They had bounced lines off of each other seamlessly, proving that they worked very well together.

“Cut. Your guys’s chemistry is…incredible.” Matt said stunned. “Adore, I am pretty impressed with you. One meltdown isn’t bad at all for your first day.”

Bianca felt relieved to hear Matt say that. She knew from the past that he had a bit of a short fuse, so knowing that Adore’s performance had impressed him was a relief. During the first movie, he had fired 5 actors for forgetting their lines on the third try. He was a hardcore director, but he knew how to get the job done, which Bianca respected.

“Thanks man!” Adore said excitedly. “I’m not a trained actor, but I know how to spit my lines.”

Bianca swore Adore gave her side eye as she spoke to Matt. She groaned internally as she realized Adore was still pissed off at her for their conversation earlier.

She would never hear the end of this. Not until the end of time. Adore truly proved her wrong.

“Wow, looks like your girl is just as good of an actor as you are.” Willam commented.

“Of course she is. Did you really ever doubt her?” Bianca asked.

“No, but you did.” Adore hissed, walking past Bianca swiftly as she exited the classroom. She let the door shut loudly behind her, and Willam visibly winced.

“Out of all of the people that could’ve been in the dog house today, I truly did not expect it to be you Del Rio.” Willam mused.

“Willam, why the fuck are you here?” Bianca changed the subject annoyed.

“I had a gig in Austin last night and decided to come join the party.” Willam smirked, throwing his arm around Bianca’s shoulder as they left the room. “Besides, I need to pick your brain about Court.”

Bianca groaned as they walked out of the school and into the parking lot of the school. The last thing she wanted to do was to even try to begin to understand the fucking relationship between the two of them.

“Can we do that later? I have some damage control to take care of.” Bianca questioned.

“Sure. Meet me at the bar down the street later.” Willam called.

“Not likely.” Bianca grumbled as she power walked to her rental car. The kinds of bars Willam liked were not her cup of tea. She would make him go to a bar she preferred; if she even met up with him at all. She was expecting to see Adore waiting by the car, but was surprised when she realized she was nowhere in sight.

Was she really that extra that she would take a fucking Lyft back to the hotel? Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she looked down just in time.

Adore:I took a Lyft. I’ll meet you at the hotel later.

Bianca sighed heavily. This was the first time she had really fucked up since they had gotten together. She really didn’t mean to upset Adore, but the situation had escalated so fast she didn’t know how to stop it from snowballing further.

Maybe Adore just needed time to cool off, she thought. She exited out of their conversation, and began to type a new message. It had been quite a rough first day, so she decided maybe she would take Willam up on that drink after all.

BDR:Meet me at the bar on 2nd street in an hour.

Willam:What happened to defusing the bomb?

BDR:I’ll tell you when I see you.

She shoved the phone back into her purse, and got into her car.

She didn’t know what haf d came over her, but since Court wasn’t here, she had no other option but to vent to Willam about all of this. Hopefully he would actually give a shit about her problems, and not make it about himself.

—————

After de-dragging and slathering his face in expensive moisturizer, Roy left the empty hotel room and ended up at a very modern looking bar with an already very buzzed Willam. He idly wondered where Adore had gone off to, but he pushed the thought away as he listened to Willam vent.

“So I told her, it’s either me or the dating show. And she chose the dating show! Like, I understand that she wants to stay relevant and meet new people but seriously? I have to see her instagram live go off every few hours, and it’s her with all of these different men. They’re all gorgeous too. It fucking sucks.” Willam complained, taking a sip of his cocktail.

Roy knew that Courtney had an odd obsession with staying in the public eye, but he didn’t think Willam was telling the whole story. Courtney wouldn’t just go on a dating show out of the blue like that. Especially since he knew how Court felt about Willam. She wouldn’t give that up for no reason.

“And you swear you did nothing to push her towards that decision?” Roy queried, scrolling through Courtney’s instagram. Her whole page was full of content from the new reality show. There were videos of her dancing with very attractive men, selfies, and pictures from a wild party that she had thrown in Austrailia.

“I swear!” Willam yelled, a bit too passionately. The bartender jumped, turned around and gave Willam the side eye before she continued mixing a drink for another customer.

“Okay, cool it. I don’t want spit in my next drink.” Roy hushed, lowering his voice hoping Willam would take the hint. Willam rolled his eyes and took another sip of his drink, shugging. Roy didn’t know how he didn’t see what Courtney was trying to do. It was so obvious it was almost adolescent.

“I know for a fact you aren’t telling me the whole story. Because it’s clear as day that Courtney is trying to make you jealous.” Roy explained sternly.

“Well I mean, I might be omitting the truth a little bit…” Willam trailed off playfully.

“Okay, so explain that to me then.” Roy huffed frustrated, finishing his drink and sliding it away. He waved the bartender down, flashing a 20 at her to get her attention. He was going to need more than two drinks to deal with this.

“I may have said that I wanted an open relationship.” Willam shrugged. “I didn’t think her going on dates with other people would bother me so much though!”

“That’s because YOU’RE usually the one messing around with other people, while she’s staying exclusive to you.”

“Well I don’t like her with other people damnit!” Willam snapped.

“Then when she gets back, you need to tell her that.” Roy explained. “If you really care about her, it’s what you have to do. No more games, no more bullshit.”

“You’re a smart old man. I hope I can be smart when I’m as old as you.” Willam smirked.

“And you’re clearly feeling better.” Roy said dryly.

On cue, the bartender set down their next round, and Roy slipped the 20 to her; encouraging her to keep the change for having to put up with Willam’s antics. She warmly thanked him and left to go help the other guests.

They sipped their drinks in silence for a few minutes, enjoying each others company. Willam was always interesting company to hang out with, he always had something fun to talk about, or something to say regardless of the subject matter at hand.

“So.” Willam started, setting his drink down, “You had your first major fuckup today didn’t you?”

Willam was also keen on reading people’s emotions, even Roy’s. Which was impressive, because Roy always made sure to keep his face as neutral as possible especially when he felt upset.

“Clearly. I was only trying to help.” Roy sighed, hanging his head down in frustration.

“What exactly did you even say? I’ve never seen her that pissed off before.”

Roy groaned as he went through the conversation in his head again, trying to remember every last miserable detail. The anger flashing through her eyes, the hurt written all over her face. He truly felt terrible about what he had said, and didn’t know what to do to fix it.

“I was trying to comfort her, and I said that not even well trained actors could do well in movies.” Roy muttered.

“That’s true, but that’s not what set her off.” Willam stated. “It would’ve been something more than that.”

“Well, I tried explaining to her that being in a movie and performing in a concert are two very different things. You can’t just wing it for a movie like you can during a-”

“Stop. Do you realize what you’ve done? Jesus Roy.” Willam interrupted, staring at Roy with wide eyes.

“What did I do?” Roy asked bewildered. “Please enlighten me because I don’t know what the fuck I did wrong.”

“You completely underestimated her. First of all, performing at a concert IS different but the majority of it is still scripted if you think about it. Adore usually follows a general setlist at all of her shows. If something does go wrong, yes, she can improvise and fans will still be okay with it but honestly? It’s not that different from being in a movie. The environment is different and there’s singing and a band but that’s it really. It’s still show business.” Willam explained.

Roy nodded as he realized how he spoke to Adore had been really condescending. No wonder she had looked so upsetz

“I talked to her like a child, which probably made it worse.” Roy admitted with realization written all over his face.

“Probably.” Willam agreed sullenly.

“I didn’t realize how much I cared about her until today.” Roy confessed.

“Gross. Go whisper that in her ear or something.” Willam rolled his eyes.

Roy downed the rest of his drink and stood up.

“I think I will. Thanks for listening.” Roy patted Willam on the back before he walked away.

“Don’t forget to douche!” Willam called after him.

——————-

When Roy got back to their room, Danny was already home, de-dragged, and on the balcony smoking a joint. Roy sighed in relief at the sight of his boyfriend. He just wanted to fix things between them, but for the moment he was fixated on his ass. He was wearing a beanie and his favorite black pajamas, which meant he had been here for awhile now.

Despite what everyone thought, Danny was actually somewhat hygienic.Not when it came to his dirty laundry or makeup, but when it came to showering he was very precise. He wouldn’t just get home and change into something more comfortable. He would go through a ritual, removing his wig, then clothes, and then going directly into the shower. It was pretty cute. Roy felt his heart flutter at how sexy he looked in all black as he scanned his boyfriend up and down.

Danny turned around, feeling eyes on his backside and met Roy’s gaze through the sliding glass door.

Roy bit his lip and looked away, pretending that he hadn’t been staring but it was too late. Danny smirked slightly before he turned back around.

It was now or never, Roy thought.

Roy stepped outside and sat down on their patio. Nestling his back into the cheap paisley print outdoor pillows, he sighed loudly as he attempted to get Danny’s attention.

“You don’t have to speak to me, or even acknowledge me if you don’t want to.” Roy began, taking a deep breath. “But I owe you an apology.”

Danny inhaled deeply, letting himself focus on the smoke hitting his lungs.

It wasn’t like Roy to apologize. He was stubborn, and would’ve stayed firm to what he had said to him unless someone interfered. Which meant he had to actually vent to someone about what had happened.

Danny was impressed that Roy had even let his guard down enough to do that. Despite them both having their relationship public, they kept their sex life and other details very private.

That didn’t mean he didn’t feel hurt about what had happened. Danny took his job as a drag artist very seriously, and to have him take his talent for granted reminded him of his early days where he was consistently being invalidated by other queens. It had hurt to come from Roy of all people, who had defended him against the very kinds of people in the past.

“I was wrong to say those things to you,” Roy continued, silently noting that Danny’s shoulders were starting to relax as he processed what he was saying to him, “Singing is just as valid of a performing art as acting is, and not just anyone can do show business. But you can sing, act, and dance. You really impressed me today, and I promise I’ll never underestimate you ever again.”

Danny smiled, elated that he had impressed Roy with his first day despite the mental breakdown in the middle of it all. He was relieved that Roy had realized he was wrong, and that they were okay again.

“I told you man, I can fucking act.” Danny laughed lightheartedly, pressing the last of his joint into the ashtray next to him.

Roy chuckled, shaking his head.

“Apology accepted. I’m sorry I freaked out. You’re like scary good at acting. It’s fucking goom.” Adore drawled.

“Oh god, enough with the ‘goom.’” Roy rolled his eyes playfully.

“Grumpy man.” Danny muttered.

“So we’re okay then?” Roy asked, cocking an eyebrow upwards as he scooted closer to Danny.

“Of course baby. Nothing can’t break us.” Danny smiled, pulling Roy close to him by his black v neck. Their lips met, and Roy smiled through the kiss.

No matter how many times he kissed Danny, he always got butterflies. He would never get tired of it. He always felt the same as when their lips met for the very first time, butterflies fluttering through his stomach like a little school girl.

Danny pulled away, smiling widely.

“What is it?” Roy asked smiling wide, showing off his signature dimples.

“Nothing, I just really enjoy being with you.” Danny mused.

They hadn’t said the lovely L word to each other yet. Danny knew he loved Roy, especially after Roy shared his crown with him on the night that she lost All Stars 2. But Danny didn’t want to be the one to say it first and scare him away. He had done that too many times in the past, and didn’t want to fuck things up between the two of them. Plus Roy could be very particular when it came to certain emotions, and Danny had known him long enough to know that love wasn’t something Bianca Del Rio usually associated herself with.

Danny didn’t mind enjoying the relationship the way it was. Other then today, they really hadn’t fought since they actually got together. He knew it was because they were still kind of in the honeymoon stage, but he felt like they could’ve fought a lot more over the last few months. He was thankful that they didn’t.

Roy was thankful that the silence between the two of them was comfortable. They were lost in their own thoughts, and Roy was thinking about home. He hadn’t been back to New Orleans to see his parents in a while now, almost a year. He wondered silently how they would feel about Danny, especially since he looked much younger than him. The first question they would ask him would be his age, and after that his ethnicity. Which he was not looking forward to.

On the other hand, Roy knew that Danny and his mom would get along great. Dan had that infectious personality thay could mesh well with pretty much anyone. He could talk to anyone in any age group and have something in common. It was unfair, Roy was 42 and still didn’t have that skill.

Roy hadn’t brought a man home in a really long time. The last time was over 15 years ago, and his parents had ended up hating him. Turns out, they had a good intuition about him because he ended up leaving Roy for a woman.

His mom would know the minute he brought him home that the way he feels about Danny is serious, which scares Roy. Especially because there’s always that small possibility that they won’t like him.

That also meant that for the first time in a really long time Roy was in love. He had made up a silent rule with himself: don’t bring home a man unless you know you love him.

He had known for awhile that he loved Danny. He didn’t know how the fuck to tell him though. Roy hadn’t loved another person in almost 15 years. It was different now. He was older, he didn’t know if he was supposed to say it in a grand way, or if he was supposed to just blurt it out over donuts at 6 am.

Once he figured it out, he’d say it to him. But for now, he planned on keeping it to himself.

“Let’s go inside.” Danny suggested, finally breaking the silence. He had been studying Roy for what felt like forever, but he had been so engrossed in his thoughts Roy hadn’t noticed.

The two of them got up from the patio, and walked back into the hotel room. On cue, a loud knock sounded against the door.

“Who the fuck is here? I swear to god if it’s Willam-” Roy started, unlocking the door.

At the door was an upset looking Shane. He looked like the shell of himself. He was covered in a large white sweatshirt and baggy grey sweatpants. He had a single bag strapped across his shoulder, and his skin looked sallow and dry,

He was an absolute mess.

A mess neither one of them were prepared for.

#ahaham #c*nt #biadore #witney #au #rpdr fanfiction #submission #canon compliant

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