I posted 3,917 times in 2022
That's 3,847 more posts than 2021!
153 posts created (4%)
3,764 posts reblogged (96%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@patzammit
@wayward-blonde
@kelbabyblue
@syntheticavenger
@k-evans-reads
I tagged 70 of my posts in 2022
#chris evans - 22 posts
#jennmurawski13 writes recs - 9 posts
#signal boost - 7 posts
#chrisevansedit - 6 posts
#evansedit - 6 posts
#chris evans fanfiction - 6 posts
#chris evans fic - 6 posts
#ari levinson - 5 posts
#blue christmas - 5 posts
#chris evans x reader - 5 posts
Longest Tag: 72 characters
#but i was team captain - i love him and chris evans' portrayal of him <3
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
Laid Bare Chapter 2
Pairing: High school history teacher Ari Levinson x single mom OC Peyton Whitmore. Lucy’s Dad (special surprise guest) x Peyton Whitmore (previous) (Written in first person)
Warnings: 18+ because it’s me. Mentions of strip clubs/gentleman’s club and working in one, language, angst (again, it’s me, and I’m a drama slut), fluff, mentions of teen pregnancy, future smut, slow burn. I’m just trying to cover all my bases here, but I’ll add more specific warnings for each chapter going forward.
Warnings for this chapter: language, mentions of drug laced baked goods. That’s it I think for this one. We finally get to meet Lucy’s dad at the end.....
I own nothing but my original characters, Peyton Whitmore and Lucy Whitmore. This is an 18+ story, as stated above. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t repost my stories and pass them off as your own. It’s a shitty thing to do.
Summary: Peyton Whitmore, a single mom of a 16 year old daughter, takes a job moonlighting at the exclusive gentleman’s club, Club Onyx, to help with the expenses that come with raising a teenager. The money is coming in, there’s more breathing room in the budget, and things are good. Then she meets her daughter’s new high school history teacher and all bets are off.
As always, shout out to my rockstar beta, @what-is-your-plan-today. Without you, I’d never get any writing done.
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92 notes - Posted March 28, 2022
#4
Laid Bare Masterlist
Pairing: High school history teacher Ari Levinson x single mom OC Peyton Whitmore. (Written in first person)
Warnings: 18+ because it’s me. Mentions of strip clubs/gentleman’s club and working in one, language, angst (again, it’s me, and I’m a drama slut), fluff, mentions of teen pregnancy, future smut, slow burn. I’m just trying to cover all my bases here, but I’ll add more specific warnings for each chapter going forward.
I own nothing but my original characters, Peyton Whitmore and Lucy Whitmore. This is an 18+ story, as stated above. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t repost my stories and pass them off as your own. It’s a shitty thing to do.
Summary: Peyton Whitmore, a single mom of a 16 year old daughter, takes a job moonlighting at the exclusive gentleman’s club, Club Onyx, to help with the expenses that come with raising a teenager. The money is coming in, there’s more breathing room in the budget, and things are good. Then she meets her daughter’s new high school history teacher and all bets are off.
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
95 notes - Posted February 13, 2022
#3
Laid Bare Chapter One
Pairing: High school history teacher Ari Levinson x single mom OC Peyton Whitmore. (Written in first person)
Warnings: 18+ because it’s me. Mentions of strip clubs/gentleman’s club and working in one, language, angst (again, it’s me, and I’m a drama slut), fluff, mentions of teen pregnancy, future smut, slow burn. I’m just trying to cover all my bases here, but I’ll add more specific warnings for each chapter going forward.
Warnings for this chapter: Language, angry mama bear, bullying, girl on girl violence.
I own nothing but my original characters, Peyton Whitmore and Lucy Whitmore. This is an 18+ story, as stated above. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t repost my stories and pass them off as your own. It’s a shitty thing to do.
Summary: Peyton Whitmore, a single mom of a 16 year old daughter, takes a job moonlighting at the exclusive gentleman’s club, Club Onyx, to help with the expenses that come with raising a teenager. The money is coming in, there’s more breathing room in the budget, and things are good. Then she meets her daughter’s new high school history teacher and all bets are off.
Special thanks to my beta readers @what-is-your-plan-today and @spectre-posts. Love you both!
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100 notes - Posted March 1, 2022
#2
Blue Christmas- Eleven (Healing)
Pairing: Chris Evans/OC Kelly
Summary: After almost three years of marriage, everyone would tell you that Chris and his wife Kelly are the most stable, solid couple they know. But behind closed doors, things are tense as they keep trying for a baby, to no avail. When a secret threatens to shake their solid marriage to it’s core, will they be able to pick up the pieces?
I do not consent to have my content, whether it be this story or anything else of my creation, posted by a third party on any other platform other than right here without my permission. This blog is 18+ and is not intended for minors. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Heed the warnings. This is a work of FICTION. I do not claim to know Chris Evans, his family, friends, or anyone on his team personally.
Warnings for this chapter: Heavy, heavy angst. Language. Mentions of adultery. Mentions of miscarriage. Pregnancy. Allusions to abortion but nothing is stated outright.
This beast is clocking in at just over 6.7k words. Probably the single longest chapter I've ever written. The tag list for this story was getting out of control, and more than half the people on it had no interaction with the story at all, so I discontinued it. I'm tagging my nearest and dearest though. I may, MAY, create a google form for a new tag list. We'll see.
January 8th (Six days post accident)
The pain meds they give people in the hospital following surgery pack a wallop, especially when given through an IV. They make me have crazy dreams, turn my attention span paper thin, and have the added bonus of turning my brain/mouth filter virtually non-existent.
I’m trying to pay attention to the conversation that Chris is trying to have with me. I really am. To be fair, he knew when he got here an hour ago that I had just gotten another dose.
“What about this one?”
Chris turns the iPad towards me so I can see yet another picture and resume’ of a home health nurse. It was an idea that he was originally against, but both Lisa and Andi, my main nurse, had both suggested that maybe having someone come in for a few hours a day a couple times a week would be a good thing. As much as he wants to do everything he possibly can for you, he also knows he’s only one person. After not hearing a response, and thinking maybe I had dozed off into a narcotic induced nap, he looks up to see me using my good hand to fiddle with the end of the braid that the nurse had put my hair into earlier after the shower that I’d finally been allowed to have after days of bed baths.
Showers used to be glorious things. Water turned up to near scalding levels, music playing loud with me singing loudly (and badly) along, and nice shampoo and shower gel that smells amazing. This was not that. This was an entire process that took nearly an hour, starting with my casted leg and equally casted arm being wrapped in waterproof plastic and ending with me in tears because washing long hair takes two functional hands, and I only had one. There’s zero dignity in having another person give you a shower when you’re a grown woman who’s been showering and bathing by herself for many years now without issue. The nurse had been amazingly sweet and sympathetic and helped me with whatever I couldn’t do on my own (which was a lot), but the whole experience just left me feeling useless and depressed.
A soft touch to my hand brings me back to the present.
“Where’d you go?” he asks softly.
”My hair smells weird.”
He leans forward a bit so he can get a whiff of my hair. “It smells okay to me.”
“It’s not the same. It’s weird, clinical hospital shampoo. It doesn’t smell good like mine.” I lament. “I couldn’t even wash my own hair today. It’s too long, and I couldn’t do it with one hand. I can’t even-”
My voice starts to waver and I look down at my arm that’s laying useless in a sling across my chest. Even my fingers are so swollen and bruised that I couldn’t even put my rings on if I tried. My ring finger, which hasn’t been naked since Chris slipped my engagement ring on it some four and a half years ago, feels very bare and just wrong. Everything about the accident and my injuries keeps hitting me in different ways.
I look over at Chris and then down at the iPad that he’s still holding. “Hire whoever you want. I honestly don’t care, and it’s not like I have any choice in the matter.”
He sighs softly, knowing that this conversation was never going to go over well. He knows that I know that I’m going to need as much help as I can get when I finally get released to go home, but he also knows that being as stubborn and self sufficient as I am, my worst nightmare is having someone have to help me do something as simple as get out of fucking bed.
“This is the one thing that’s happened lately that you do get to choose. I want to get someone that you’re going to like and be comfortable with. I can’t imagine what this is like for you right now, and I’m just trying to make life as easy as it can get when you’re home.”
“I don’t know if I’m going to like someone from a goddamn resume’. As long as they can do the job without fucking me up more than I already am, great.” My back is starting to ache because of the position that I’m laying in, and when I go to slide further up the bed, I’m rewarded with a searing pain in my stomach from the movement pulling at my still healing splenectomy incisions.
“Fuck, honey-”
I fall back on the pillows, irritated as hell and over this damn conversation, and the words fly out of my mouth before I can even think about stopping them.
“Just pick someone! Maybe you’ll get lucky and you’ll get another girl who’s going to fall for the irresistible Chris Evans charm, who has no moral compass and no compunction about sleeping with married men. Then you can throw a shot into her too.”
I watch as his face falls, his hand pulling back from where it’s been resting on my arm and a lump the size of a golf ball forms in my throat. I didn’t mean to say that. I might as well just be wearing a name tag that says Hi, I’m: Here To Make Things Worse. I cover my mouth with my hand and glance up towards the ceiling, trying to blink the tears away before they can fully form.
“I’m…..I’m sorry. I didn’t mean….” I start, but the words don’t want to come out.
“It’s okay.” he tries to assure me.
“No, it’s not.” I look down at the fluffy blue blanket that Chris brought me from home and I play with the slightly frayed edge, ashamed and unable to look at the broken look on his face. “This is a bad idea.”
He pops a shoulder. “Could always hire a male nurse.” he says, raising his eyebrow.
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164 notes - Posted June 2, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
It shouldn’t be about whether you personally think it’s right or wrong….it’s the fact that the CHOICE has been taken away from us. That’s what should piss you off.
239 notes - Posted June 24, 2022
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