#of realizing something outside myself that independently confirmed and backed up my relationship with my orientation

[honeypiehotchner]

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter thirty-five

Welcome to the shitshow! Remember that I love y’all <3

Warnings: arguing, fighting, tension, angst

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Chapter Thirty-Five: I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you

The tearful phone call with your mom lasts for nearly four hours.

“I just don’t know what to do,” you admit. “I don’t want to leave the BAU.”

“I know, honey.”

“And I’m not going to,” you say firmly, wiping your cheeks on the back of your hand. “I didn’t let Trevor stop me from accepting that job with the BCI, I’m not letting this stop me from staying in the BAU. I’m better than that.”

“I know, baby.”

“And I want Aaron, I do, but if it’s at this cost, then I…” You don’t even want to say it out loud.

“Have you talked to him?” Your mom asks gently.

You shake your head. “Haley surprised him at the office earlier with Jack, so I’m sure he’s hanging out with Jack for the rest of the day. He might spend the night, too.”

“Hm,” your mom sighs. “Is he trying to get back together with her?”

“Not that I know of.” You pause. “I don’t think he is. I know him, he’d…he’d tell me if they were, right? Or if she had asked about it?”

“I want to say that he would, honey, but I don’t know. I’ve seen the way he looks at you and I know he loves you, but…”

“But what?”

“Marriage…” Your mom sighs. “When you marry someone, especially as young as the two of them were, the bond is different. Add a child into the mix and it’s…it’s hard to let go of.” She pauses. “I never told you this, but letting go of your father was the hardest decision I ever had to make.”

“You told me it was the easiest.”

“Because I had to tell myself that. If I told myself anything else, I wouldn’t have had the courage to leave. I had to convince myself I could do it, and that meant letting you know that I could. I didn’t want you to think our independence should be held hostage from us.”

“So you’re saying…”

“I’m saying, I know you love him, and I know he loves you. But you’re still young. And whatever your future looks like, as long as it has the best version of you, then it’s enough. Everything else will sort itself out. But you have to be there and be the best you before everything else can fall into place around you.”

+++

When you head into the BAU the next day, you go straight to Hotch’s office. You don’t stop at your desk, or Morgan’s when he calls out to you (though you do wave at him, and Emily too).

“Come in,” Hotch announces after hearing a knock, unaware that it’s you.

“Hey,” you say to get his attention. “Can we talk?”

Immediately, he stands, rounding his desk to gather you in his arms. “Hey, of course. I’m so sorry I couldn’t call you last night.”

“It’s okay,” you pause to accept his kiss. “I was on the phone with my mom for a while anyway.”

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“Yes and no,” you exhale nervously, stepping out of his arms, needing to ground yourself. “That’s why I came straight here.”

“Okay…” He steps over and shuts the door, gesturing for you to continue.

“When I was called into Strauss’s office yesterday, it wasn’t about being back. It wasn’t routine. It was because she knows about us.”

“I know.”

You freeze, mouth open and ready to speak, but you shut it slowly, processing his words. “What do you mean you know?”

“I talked with her yesterday before I left.”

“And you didn’t think to text me about it yesterday?”

Aaron watches you carefully. “If I recall correctly, you didn’t tell me the real reason Strauss talked to you either.”

“Because Haley was here with Jack!” You argue. “I wasn’t going to bring that up in front of them.”

“Okay, I understand.”

“What did Strauss talk to you about?” You ask, not wanting to stay near the topic of Haley for too long. “Was it just about her knowing about us?”

Aaron looks like he doesn’t want to answer, but you stare him down until he does. “Yes. And she asked if you had been…inappropriately pushing yourself onto me.”

“What?”

“I told her you had done nothing like that whatsoever,” he says quickly and firmly, wanting you to hear him. “But she did ask that your behavior be monitored for the time being.”

“For the— Hotch, are you kidding me? Don’t tell me you agreed to that?”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You could’ve told her that our relationship is mutually consensual and none of her business.”

He gives you a look because you both know he couldn’t tell Strauss it’s “none of her business,” but you still wish he had. You could certainly never say something like that to her, but he could almost definitely get away with it. You’d be surprised if he hasn’t said something similar to Strauss before this.

“I didn’t want to confirm anything about us and risk your termination as an agent in the bureau.”

“Well, thank you for your concern, but Strauss very politely told me yesterday that I need to pick a transfer before she forces me out of here.”

“What?”

“She talked to me about transferring the entire time,” you cry. “She told me I’m young, I don’t need to go to extreme lengths to prove myself and better my skillset.”

“It’s true, you don’t.”

“She thinks I’m sleeping with you to do exactly that.”

Aaron sighs heavily. “I told her that you’re not.”

“She’s not going to believe it. She obviously didn’t believe you since my behavior is now going to be monitored like I’m a fucking child.”

“I know it’s not ideal,” Hotch says. “And I wish I didn’t have to agree with her. But if these are some small prices we have to pay, then…we have to pay them.”

It sounds good. In theory. It sounds right.

But it’s wrong.

“No,” you shake your head. “Because they’re not prices that we’re paying. It’s all coming down on me. And I can’t do that. I can’t.”

“Y/N…” He hates that you feel this way, and part of him knows you’re right.

“I know we said we would wait before telling Strauss, but that was before she found out. She already knows now, so why don’t we go to her ourselves and tell her how serious we are?”

You thought he’d be all for this idea. But he shakes his head.

“It isn’t that simple.” He pauses. “She also mentioned others overhearing our…less than appropriate comments to one another.”

“You mean yours.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hotch, I told you before we even started any of this that we needed to stay professional. Your good girl comments here and there surely weren’t peak professionalism.”

“If it’s been making you uncomfortable, why haven’t you stopped me?”

“Because I wasn’t uncomfortable,” you cry. “I never was, and I never am around you. I knew we were pushing it, but I didn’t think about stopping.”

“Okay,” he nods. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known better.”

“It’s fine—”

“No, Y/N, as unit chief, I should’ve known better.”

“Okay…” You raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to keep going. “Okay?”

“I think it would be best if you and I take a step back from our relationship until this all settles down.”

You blink. “What?”

“I knew since the beginning that something like this could happen,” he pauses. “And I’ve worried for a while now that our relationship is too…inappropriate.” Pause. “That it’s putting a strain on the team and our jobs.”

“How long is a while?” You ask. And when he doesn’t reply, you demand an answer. “Hotch. How long have you been thinking like this?”

“Since the night you were shot,” he admits quietly, “and we almost lost you.”

“Since…” You cut yourself off out of sheer disbelief. “You’re telling me you’ve been thinking like this for…for the past six months?”

“Y/N—”

“All this time we’ve been together, and you’ve just been waiting to break up with me.”

“I want to be with you, but our jobs…”

“And if I transfer somewhere else? What then?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t want you to sacrifice your job here for our relationship.”

“And if I do?”

He says nothing.

You figure that’s enough of an answer.

“Do you need me for anything today?” You ask. “For work.”

“No,” he murmurs.

“I’ll be going home, then,” you say. “Have a good rest of your day.”

+++

Down in the bullpen, Morgan, Emily, and Garcia have been watching your conversation with Hotch unfold through the cracks in the blinds of his office. He didn’t close them all the way, so Spencer has been able to lip read.

But as soon as Spencer realized the conversation wasn’t going anywhere good, he stopped.

When you open the door to Hotch’s office, you’re not surprised at all to find the team staring up at you. You ignore eye contact with every single one of them as you skip down the steps, heading straight for the glass doors.

Hotch stands in the doorway of his office, watching you go, watching Garcia and Emily run after you.

Standing outside the elevator, shaking with frustration, and holding back your tears as hard as you can, refusing to cry here.

“Okay, what just happened?” Pen asks, and you almost don’t hear her because you can barely see straight anyway.

“Nothing,” you mutter. “Or—I don’t know. I don’t actually know what just happened to me. God, can this thing hurry up?” You press the call button a few more times.

“It didn’t look like nothing,” Emily replies.

“It looked like—Wait.” Pen stops, her eyes wide. “Did you—”

Finally, the elevator doors open.

“Did you break up?” Emily finishes, sadness all over her face.

“I don’t know,” you reply, stepping inside the elevator. “Ask him, I guess.”

You reach over and almost press the ground floor, but at the last second, you hit Strauss’s floor number.

You wave sadly at Pen and Emily, and as the doors close, you catch a glimpse of Hotch standing at the glass doors.

I can always return to the BAU someday, you tell yourself. Maybe this is a sign that I’m needed somewhere else.

After Aaron sees the elevator doors close, he knows right then that he’s lost you.

Next chapter

#intelligence & issues #aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #angst #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner series

[carelessannie]

maybe it goes like this: tony courts peter (part 2)

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten

Read on A03

Read the Stuckony backstory WIP

Starker focus (Tony x Peter), Winteriron (Tony x Bucky), with reference to Stucky, Stony and Stuckony

This is the “meet... awkward” for my AU, and takes place roughly 8 months before the first chapter. Enjoy!

Major warnings: D/S Au, A/B/O Au, OmegaSub!Peter, BetaDom!Tony, OmegaSwitch!Bucky, AlphaDom!Steve, Heavy Awkward Flirting, Cute Nicknames, Kinda Sexy Winteriron

Maybe it goes like this:  

8 Months Earlier

Peter is looking forward to seeing his Pack after class, definitely needing to cuddle up with Annie in their nest tonight. And maybe Clint will bring home pizza. It’s been a long-ass day.

Okay, definitely pizza.

From the front of the class, Peter can hear his professor introducing the guest lecturer, and he drags his backpack around to his seat to unlock his laptop and notebook. Just as he logs in and dates his notebook page, Peter looks up to see the most attractive man in New York walk through the door, smile to the class, and introduce himself.

Tony.

Tony Stark?

No Way. The Tony stark?

Peter's ears ring, and he swears he sinks three feet into the floor.

Mr. “just call me Tony” Stark is saying something about BioMolecular Engineering, about class credit, about new processes in the industry, about independent research opportunities, about the— wait.

Peter jerks in his seat, mouth ajar, as The Tony Stark lists benefits of working in his research lab for Stark Industries, a dream Peter has nursed since high school. He barely hears the rest of the presentation, focusing on closing his mouth and blinking, keeping hot Arousal out of his scent, adjusting himself in his pants—

“—and I’ll take questions up front if you have them, thanks."

There’s a round of lazy applause, as students start to pack up and file out, and Peter shakes himself, You have to talk to him. He scribbles a few questions on his notebook and throws everything into his backpack, floating across the classroom and to the back of the line.

When he finally steps up, both of them freeze. Peter restrains himself from scenting the older man right there in the classroom because hot damn .

Peter lets out a short gasp of “hellomynameisPeterParker,” thrusting his hand forward, and is pulled in for a firm handshake, Tony Stark looking into his eyes with a vaguely amused expression.

Peter lets go, reluctantly, and stutters out, “M-mr. Stark? I think I’d be interested in the semester research opportunity.”

“Of course, Peter Parker,” Tony turns and grabs a StarkPad, scrolling briefly before handing it over to Peter, “if you want to fill it out today, feel free. It’s an equal opportunity research grant, and provides a weekly stipend for the duration of the program.”

Mr. Stark continued with details, as Peter quickly puts his information in the application and presses “submit.” He peers up at the older man, Beta? Probably? Most of what he can scent is spice and fire– maybe cinnamon, or chai like Clint? It’s hard to tell without throwing his face into the man’s neck, and inhaling deep–

“Mr. Parker? Pete?”

Peter’s head shoots up, and he realizes he’s been still for too long without responding, and immediately goes to apologize, “Oh, I-i’m so sorry, Mr. Stark, I just… I finished the application? Shouldn’t I submit– or, sorry– send in a resume? Sorry.”

Mr. Stark keeps his expression schooled, but Peter can tell that he’s holding back a smile. Dammit Parker, way to nail the first impression. He shifts on his feet, biting his lip as Mr. Stark shakes his head slowly.

“No, it’s okay Peter. Our admin team will review the first round of applications by department, and send out an email link for further information, alright?” he gives into his smile, reaching out as if to... what, comfort Peter? But aborts the motion and crosses his arms, flexing slightly under his navy suit.

“Do you have any other questions, Peter?”

“No, n-no not right now, sorry, thank you Mr. Stark, sir. Um. Okay? I’ll see you later?” and Peter beats a hasty retreat out of the classroom, feeling his scent shift Embarrassed and hot tears prick his eyes.

Why does he always give a terrible first impression?

—

Tony stands, shocked in the empty classroom, schooling his scent and his breathing.

Thank you Mr. Stark, sir.

He collects his things in a haze, heading back to his pack and thinking about the gorgeous omega who just called his name.

Damn. His Alpha and Omega are gonna want to hear about this.

2 Weeks Later

Tony is straightening up the last few items in the R&D lab, hearing Pepper’s complaints of You need to care about your work space, Tony and You need to prepare a safe space for interns to work, Tony. And Pepper is right, of course, so Tony keeps cleaning.

He hears the doors swish open, and sighs, schooling his expression to neutral. He whirls around, raising his hands to defend himself against what he assumes is a new portion of nagging from Pepper, and instead–

The pretty omega from NYU.

What? “What are you–” Tony starts, watching as– Parker? Pete, Peter?– clutches a bag close to his chest, large doe eyes widening in shock and fear and… yup, there it is, FearShockEmbarassed Omega scent floods the lab as Peter takes a step backwards, lips opening and closing in shock.

“Hey, are you–”

“I’m so sorry, I–”

Tony shakes his head, stepping a little closer, “No, it’s okay, Peter? Right? From NYU?” with a nod in confirmation, Tony barrels ahead, “I thought you were– no, it doesn’t matter. Are you, are you here for the internship?”

“Y-yes, I’m sorry, they said to come at noon, but I thought I’d get here early and, god I can’t believe it, I’m so sorry, I’ll just wait– uh, wait outside?” Peter stutters through the explanation, lowering his eyes and backing towards the door to retreat into the hallway.

“No, like I said Peter, it’s okay, honestly,” Tony looks around quickly, trying to find a seat for the started young man, and yanks out the stool to his workbench, “here, sit down, please?”

There’s a moment of stillness as Peter looks between the stool and Tony, muttering something under his breath and setting his jaw in determination. Damn this boy is adorable, and Tony forces himself to keep a neutral expression as the om– the intern – walks across the room and sets down his backpack. Tony turns to the other side of the desk to give Peter some space, and clears the last of the notebooks into a nearby drawer.

He wants to start a conversation with Peter, fingers twitching in the unbearable silence, but is saved by the lab doors opening again, revealing Pepper leading five lost looking interns into the room. She leads so gracefully, he thinks, and feels his scent turn Fond and Proud for the Beta. Pepper sits each intern down, greeting Peter as well, and before he knows it, orientation and introduction are underway. The interns have their own work benches, and Pepper lets another supervisor take over the first day paperwork.

While the interns work in silence, Tony refuses to fixate on Peter, even though he takes to the research environment so beautifully. He's smart, he makes the funniest sarcastic quips when he thinks no one is listening, and he's kind of quiet, but always speaks up when he has a strong opinion.

Tony keeps his interactions unbiased among the other interns, mostly betas and one alpha, and is so relieved when the day ends and the students finally shuffle out of the lab. Peter ends up last to leave, staring at Tony and nervously licking his lips as he shoulders his bag. He seems to hesitate.

“Yeah, what’s up Pete?”

“Oh… no, right, see you tomorrow?” Peter shifts back and forth on his feet.

Tony smiles, “Of course, early bird,” and honestly can’t help his eye twitching, helplessly, in a wink.

Peter stutters out some type of goodbye, and flutters back through the door.

Tony blows out a breath, “JARVIS, call Bucky.”

—

“So what you’re tellin’ me is, you’ve somehow managed to find a smokin’ hot–”

“Beautiful,” Tony interrupts, “and compatible–”

“Right, smokin’ hot, compatible omega, and you… hire him?”

“I mean, technically I didn’t hire him personally–”

“Tony–”

“No, you know what, I get it. It’s my fault I can’t have him. But Bucky, I swear he’s so damn smart, and I can’t even let myself hope about his orientation,”

Bucky groans audibly over the line, but Tony protests again, “–because I swear he would submit so beautifully, Bucky, I can just see it. And remember how I said he called me sir?”

“How could I forg–”

“It’s all I can think about. I don’t wanna be overbearing, but I’m completely helpless around him and have no idea what to do. Bucky, I winked at him. Winked. And he ran away so fast.”

He can hear Bucky laughing at him over the line, that idiot, and Tony drops his head in his hands.

“Want my advice, sweetheart?” Bucky doesn’t wait for an answer before continuing, “I think you should take it slow and court ‘im. Sounds like it could be awhile before you can make anything official, and what is he, like eighteen?”

“... Twenty.”

“Okay, twenty. He probably isn’t looking for a permanent pack anyways, alright? Get to know ‘im at work, and as soon as you can, you should also put a stop to him seeing you as his boss,”

“Wait, but–”

“No, Tony. As much as it feels great for this little omega to call you ‘Mr. Stark’ and ‘Sir,’ if you want anything more with this guy, you have to work to even out the relationship a bit.”

Tony slumps down into a seat, sighing dramatically. Bucky goes silent as Tony processes what he’s saying. A thought occurs to him,

“Wait, is that how Steve got you?”

Bucky snorts, “Yeah, you know our Alpha’s ‘bout as subtle as a dump truck. His advice is gonna be, ‘sit the omega down, state your intentions to court him, communicate clearly,’ all that shit,” another laugh, this time fonder, “I’m just sayin’ to save that for later, okay? Take it slow.”

Heading towards the door, Tony signals for JARVIS to move the conversation to his phone as he heads home. He pops in an earpiece for the call, and makes sure Bucky is still on the line.

“Yeah, I’ll take your advice Bucky-bear. Hey, are you home?” Tony taps his foot as the elevator descends to the parking garage, feeling a familiar itch starting under his skin.

“Yeah I am, Steve’s out until later... why, what’s up?”

He gets out of the elevator, heading for his car, “I think all this talk of the perfect omega has me missing you. Wanna do something soft and dirty when I get home?”

Bucky hums, the sound sweet and tempting, even over the phone line, “Whaddya have in mind, my Beta?”

“Oh you know I love when you call me that,” Tony peels out onto the main road, heading towards their coastal property, their home, “I want you to contact Steve and ask him to pick up dinner, your choice. I’ll tell him what my plan is for you tonight, so he won’t be surprised. I’ll be there in thirty-five minutes and want you in the red room, ready to play, understood?”

Tony can hear Bucky breathing quicker over the phone as he responds, “Yes, Beta.”

“My good omega. And for now, let’s not tell our Alpha about Peter. Not unless it gets serious, okay?”

“Mmm okay, Tony. Hurry home,” and Bucky ends the call.

Tony steps on it.

#starker #winteriron #stuckony #stony #stucky #tony x peter #bucky x tony #d/s fic #light d/s #meet awkward #getting together #fluff #MiGLT #omegaverse

[dreamingofscully]

6x18. “Milagro” - X-Files Rewatch

Lots of analysis below. So much to unpack with this episode. An EXTREMELY significant episode for Scully related to her feelings about and relationship with Mulder. This analysis goes into more depth in general, rather than a stream-of-consciousness observational post like my others tend to be.

Also, fanfic! I have a post-ep that I’d love y’all to check out that I wrote a while back in attempt to explain what happened with Scully in-between Milagro and The Unnatural.

Bated Breath (AO3), rated G, 2198 words M/S UST, Post-episode (Milagro) Mulder drives Scully home from the hospital.

Onwards for analysis and speculation.

The soundtrack for this episode is amazing. Love the beating heart that Mark Snow incorporated.

At the beginning, the symbolism of Padgett removing his own heart. It reflects the emptiness of his heart, his incapability of having love, but the burning passion he believes he is capable of, with which he pursues Scully.

At Padgett’s stare, Scully is creeped out, but she is also curious. That someone would look at her so boldly and with such obvious lust, when she’s tried to think of herself as separate from such things for so long. 

Padgett wills things to happen, using his writing as a tool, a FOCUS, to channel his powers. He manifests things - the psychic surgeon (representing Padgett’s dark side), the lightbulbs not working, etcetera. He uses his creepy stalker insight to profile how people will act, then writes about it, but he can’t alter emotions, only manifest what is already there. (If he could make people think and do whatever he wanted, he wouldn’t have given up so easily when he recognized Scully’s love for Mulder.)

Mulder and Scully sitting close on his couch.

Padgett suggests that Scully sticks to science and facts because otherwise she’d be viewed as weak and soft. Perhaps this is partly true for other people, but NOT for Mulder. Padgett doesn’t know her history, what she’s afraid of, the real reason she’s kept herself from believing for so long. However, Scully IS influenced by Padgett here - she stands up for herself (makes herself tough instead of soft) when Mulder makes her schedule for her and goes off to do her own investigation.

The burning heart tale that Padgett tells Scully: “Christ came to Margaret Mary his heart so inflamed with love that it was no longer able to contain its burning flames of charity. Margaret Mary... so filled with divine love herself, asked the Lord to take her heart... and so he did placing it alongside his until it burned with the flames of his passion. Then he restored it to Margaret Mary sealing her wound with the touch of his blessed hand.”

He wants to reenact this story with her, not realizing that her heart already belongs to another.

As Padgett tells Scully intimate details of her life it makes her incredibly uncomfortable. She’s an intensely private person, only lets in a few people. But here is some stranger who seems to KNOW her. How did she not know she was being watched? What other things does he know? It would bother her from a professional point of view as well as a personal one.

That someone thinks of her this way - a purely physical attraction rather than something cerebral and mutually respectful like she has with Mulder - it unsettles her. But his influence makes her more aware of her desires, the feelings she’s walled away for so long and hasn’t let herself acknowledge.

The conversation between Mulder and Scully in the autopsy bay is very interesting. Scully is VERY OPEN about what just happened between her and Padgett, something that is pretty unusual for her. She admits to being frightened, she tells him that this creepy guy knows “too much information and intimate detail”, and then openly challenges Mulder to do something about it. Scully KNOWS what Mulder will do.

Mulder’s uncomfortable almost-smile when she tells him. How fucking real is that. I don’t know about you guys but I find myself smiling at the most inappropriate circumstances, so this hits home for me. (Thank you DD.)

Mulder and Padgett try to intimidate each other in the elevator. Don’t fucking mess with Scully! Mulder’s brooding walk down the hallway. 🔥 🔥 🔥

The love scene. Padgett writes what he wants to be true. He can influence the thoughts of others but cannot control them like Modell - only an encouragement in a particular direction, a manifestation of emotions already present. Scully’s disgust and fear is tempered by her curiosity of the strange and mysterious neighbour, which is why she ends up at his apartment. Padgett misinterprets her intellectual interest as romantic in nature.

“Loneliness is a choice.”

The implication: she can choose, at any time, to NOT be lonely. That she knows she’s lonely. What’s holding her back? This season was SHIT for Mulder and Scully’s relationship, but an undercurrent for her throughout the years she’s been his partner - fear. She’s scared to take that last step, to have him know all of her. For fear of death, of losing him. Being alone is safe.

Padgett talking to her like she’s an object, something to serve his writing rather than someone with a CHOICE. Another thing that reveals the emptiness of his heart.

The fantasy that Padgett has about Scully is meant to happen after she enters his apartment. The mugs in the fantasy are the same ones they drink coffee from, and in the fantasy they are still steaming hot. The lamp doesn’t light because it is off in the dream (another example of his ability to affect the physical but not the emotional).

I love the symbolism of Scully looking out the window in Padgett’s bedroom. She’d see something similar out of Mulder’s apartment, just slightly different. But enough to make a difference. She feels desire, she has love in her heart, but only for Mulder. Padgett can never be a replacement, no matter how many words he writes.

Padgett believes they are headed to the bed, to the love scene he described in his writing. I don’t think it would happen even if Mulder hadn’t interrupted them. Regardless, Mulder is a wild card - he didn’t account for him to burst through the door, didn’t write about him, so Mulder can act independently, outside of the story.

Mulder’s jealousy at seeing Scully there with Padgett. He’s tense, tearing through his pages, heedless of the destruction he’s causing, handles Padgett roughly. Mulder manifests his frustration as aggression, and this time it’s extremely personal. From now on the interactions that Mulder has with Padgett are filled with tension. You can see that Mulder just wants to fucking MESS with this guy. Part jealousy, part protectiveness.

Padgett’s assertion that the characters choose the writers. Does he believe that Scully chose him? That the psychic surgeon isn’t merely a manifestation of the evil and emptiness in his own heart?

In the jail cell, Mulder moves forward to intimidate Padgett but Scully’s touch instantly pulls him back. This is Padgett’s first glimpse at the connection between Scully and Mulder. Up until now he’s only been observing Scully by herself, and listening to them talk in Mulder’s apartment. Now, though, he realizes in their FIRST INTERACTION in front of him, that she is in love with him. All the things that he’s seen regarding Scully’s interest in him have been misinterpretations.

Mulder confronts Scully in the hallway about her part in the book. Just a note that Padgett watches their interaction here as well, confirming his initial thoughts about Scully’s love for Mulder. I think he’d also realize Mulder loves her back, but in Padgett’s mind, who wouldn’t?

“You know you're in here, don't you?” - Mulder “I read a chapter. What does he say?” - Scully “Well, let's just say it ends with you doing the naked pretzel with "the stranger" on a bed in an unfurnished fourth floor apartment. (pause) I'm assuming that's a priori, too?” - Mulder “I think you know me better than that, Mulder.” - Scully

Mulder’s look while biting his bottom lip. Scully’s licking her lips here, too. Hnnng.  🔥 🔥 🔥

After realizing Scully can’t love him, Padgett writes this: “Grief squeezed at her eggshell heart like it might break into a thousand pieces its contents running like broken promises into the hollow places his love used to fill.”

A parallel to how Padgett is feeling himself. Or “thinks” its how he should feel, if he had a heart.

Mulder and Scully standing close at the graveyard. Scully touches his back when getting him to back off from the suspect.

Their argument - taking opposite sides.

Scully is compelled to feel less negative about Padgett, and doesn’t feel he is capable of murder, he’s just strange and mysterious. Also, she wants to believe that it’s just an innocent attraction. (Please PLEASE let someone normal be attracted to her for once!)

AGENT SCULLY IS ALREADY IN LOVE. ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Padgett is looking DIRECTLY at Mulder when he says this. Afterwards, Mulder takes a quick look at Scully, who has a very vulnerable expression on her face and does NOT look at him.

Padgett’s statement makes Scully’s feelings REAL - they are something that EXISTS in the world. She can no longer deny it, push it away. Also, the fact that Mulder is RIGHT THERE, that he KNOWS, too.

Things can’t go back to normal, especially after the ending of the episode. I don’t think Scully wants them to. I think she chooses not to be lonely.

Padgett starts writing and talking to Naciamento/his dark self. His subconscious knows what story needs to be told. He needs to steal Scully’s heart to place it next to his, to have her in death if he can’t have her in life. This is the ending that only makes sense for this story - he wrote it to have her fall in love with him, for them to be together, but now it’s impossible.

Padgett’s comment that Scully has been “trying to get his attention”. Through her interest in Padgett? This is possibly a misinterpretation, but it also might be something she’d do, though subconsciously. In my headcanon, Scully’s been trying to get Mulder’s attention for fucking YEARS, so perhaps he is correct. She wants Mulder to see her as someone with needs and desires, not just his partner.

They sit closely on Mulder’s couch for the surveillance. 

The difference between Scully on Padgett’s bed, and Scully on Mulder’s couch (bed). At Padgett’s, she’s sitting up straight, very uncomfortable, like she could leap up and aim her gun at his head if he tried anything strange. At Mulder’s side, she falls asleep because she’s so trusting and comfortable with him.

Padgett wants to prove he can love, so he uses whatever power he possesses to sacrifice himself and heal Scully. From the burning heart story: “he restored it to Margaret Mary sealing her wound with the touch of his blessed hand.”

Destroying the book and thus destroying his dark self isn’t enough. Scully is already hurt, bleeding everywhere. He also needs to heal Scully, and does this through his sacrifice. This is the reason I believe that Padgett’s powers come through himself, he doesn’t really need his typewriter or even a physical copy of his stories to manifest them, he just uses them as a crutch. Perhaps it was how he developed his powers - his insight into human nature through his writing.

When Mulder hears the gunshots, he rushes back to Scully. It’s interesting to think that Mulder nearly cost Scully her life. Her bullets may not have killed Naciamento, but they summoned Mulder, enabling Padgett to burn the book, sacrifice himself and thus save Scully. In essence, she saved herself despite Mulder’s innocent interference.

“A chance to give what he could not receive.”

Instead of killing her, Padgett decides to give her the gift of life and love. He knows she loves another, that her heart is full of love unlike his own empty heart. 

Scully’s breakdown.

She was about to die. It was the closest she’s come and in the most horrifying manner. Death is her greatest fear.

Being faced with something obviously supernatural (shooting Naciamento to no effect, being wounded then miraculously healed) would also make her confused and vulnerable - not being able to explain what happened and put it in a box.

The emotions she’s been trying desperately to repress have been brought to the surface this entire episode. 

More speculation/final thoughts:

This season has dealt with Scully’s fears quite a bit, but mostly with her inability to accept paranormal/unexplainable phenomena. She also holds another fear - death. And it’s consequence? She’s afraid to let people in, let them close. After her remission, she tried to take the chance - to let Mulder closer, to give her heart to Emily. When she’s burned by taking these chances, she buries her feelings again. She’s too scared to take another chance, and the tension between them lately has not been conducive to any sort of positive change in their relationship. The emotions brought to the surface in this episode come bursting forth at the end. Scully doesn’t try to hide them. She lets Mulder see her whole heart, her whole self - fears and all.

Through sharing her entire self with him, Scully���s changed. She can’t go back to pretending and hiding. Her fear about dying, about getting too close, doesn’t matter. I think that Scully’s lightness in the preceding episode (“The Unnatural”) shows how far she’s come.

She reveals her vulnerabilities to Mulder, her softness; his embrace of her as she lets her walls down is cathartic and freeing. Scully knows what she wants, and now her love is “out there”, a tangible thing that they are BOTH aware of. No more second-guessing, misinterpretations.

Later in season 7 (“all things”), when Scully has her breakthrough about her beliefs, she has a similar cathartic experience (her vision in the Buddhist temple). In this episode, her breakthrough is emotional and related to her feelings about Mulder instead of intellectual/spiritual and deeply personal.

I think this episode is where I diverge from much of the fandom in terms of its significance to the MSR and Scully. I don’t think they can go back from this (along with things that happen with Mulder in the next episode). I’ll talk about a few more things in my “The Unnatural” post. If you disagree, that’s fine, but… I just love the idea of them having more time together, and I like the way my theory works! <3

If you want to know more about what I think happened after this episode, I’d love it if you’d read my fic “Bated Breath”. I feel that it expresses my thoughts pretty well about what I thought Scully went through, and where Mulder was as well.

#xfiles #x-files #x-files rewatch #x files rewatch #msr #msrheadcanon #mulder and scully #fox mulder #dana scully #top 10 episodes #season 6 #MEGA ANALYSIS

[carriecutforth]

The Shit

Tumblr is telling me to go ahead, put anything...so here it goes

I haven't been public about this for reasons that will be apparent but gonna start this with all the trigger warnings. I'm writing it here cause I can't talk to the majority of people about it cause most people can't even grasp, and then questions start, putting me in the situation of feeling like my GIANT SWEATER of trauma is being unraveled answering questions that lead to more questions and gah PLEASE DO NOT RETUMBL-- I just need to scream in the void This is the shit: On the day my sister-in-law's mother died she had to call form-1 my baby brother because his psychosis (undiagnosed mental illness which I will get to) was terrorizing their family (three small kids). My mother WHO IS SCHIZOPHRENIC had him released into her and my ANTI-VAXXER ANTI-MASKER narcissist father's care, but NOT before they found out, incidentally due to the FORM 1, he is ALSO really sick with leukemia. I only found out because I decided to dip into the special folder for emails called MOM that I try to avoid reading as long as they can FOR REASONS. But I felt for some reason an urge to, and then I had to try to parse out what had happened from her ramblings that are A LOT. Then I had to confirm with my poor sil who is at her wits end and was in no position to tell me herself. My dad stopped talking to me back in November when I called him for his anti-vax rhetoric as being EUGENICS when he told me it is just the flu and only killing old people and the disabled. I reminded him I've been immuno-compromised my whole life (he KNOWS this) and got chronic fatigue after a flu in late 2016 (he knows this), and did he not care if I DIED? (apparently not) But I was like lol, fine, don't talk to me anymore. Die mad about it for all I care. A lot of people are like: 'oh, that's tough, losing a relationship with your father' and I'm like YOLO (it really isn't if you knew him). SO THEN I have to reach out to my dad: "Why isn't my brother in the hospital being treated by medical professionals for YOU KNOW, HIS LEUKEMIA." My dad responded that the doctors were JUST GOING TO PUMP HIM FULL OF DRUGS! And that HE is treating my brother's leukemia with I dunno baking soda (he told me before it is a cure for cancer). THEN HE GOES RADIO SILENT. I have no idea where my brother is cause they got him an apartment somewhere in Toronto. *though I do have a Machiavellian plan to try to find out. The reason my brother has untreated psychosis is that even though I've begged my parents since he was a TEEN to get him diagnosed, they refused. It's like they have the opposite of Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy in that their ABLEISM is soooo bad they refuse to see he has been very sick, and even if he was really sick, 'doctors are stupid' <--quoting my dad. This is the backstory. My dad was always on the road for his job. My mom had my baby brother AGAINST all wishes of her doctor to ever get pregnant again. I'm not talking aborting, she got PREGNANT on purpose again to SERVE GOD'S GREATER PURPOSE even though it might kill her and said future fetus. So he was born with a lot of issues because of the very bad pregnancy's complications on TOP of the very hereditary bipolar/schizophrenia, AND everything else we got going on besides. After he was born, my mom went into a very deep depression for years and then would vacillate between that and mania. Which meant me: THE ELEVEN year old was forced to raise a baby that wasn't hers and had no ultimate authority over. I was called by everyone his *BROTHER'S NAME* SECOND MOM. *More on this later Our relationship is very strained because of this, particularly when at 17 I had enough momming a child while being constantly undermined by my parents absolute shenanigans. So there was resentment when I quit being his 'second mom' and that he equally resented for things like, trying to put him into bed, when my mom would come in and say let him stay up all night or getting him to eat something other than candy for breakfast (you can guess the dynamic with my parents here). Even if my disabled ass could sue my parents for his

care, he doesn't WANT me to be in charge of his care.

And yet still, I tried to advocate for him for years fighting my parents TOOTH and NAIL to get him on disability and out from underneath their thumb so he could have a measure of independence and autonomy. They had every excuse in the book not to get him diagnosed including expense. It was so goddamned awful fighting with them on this cause in their mind: he was going to live with either them or me forever (they decided this for me and my ex-husband and kids with no consultation), so WHY bother set up his future for him??? So when he was 20?, I hatched a Machiavellian PLAN: I got him, against my parent's wishes, into college for the sole reason of getting the resources for him to get diagnosed so that he could get on disability. AND IT WORKED! (kinda) Except my parents twisted him so much into only talking about his autism spectrum symptoms and NONE of the psychosis because their ableism is sooooo entrenched. (but I did manage to get him on ODSP). And subsequent times I forced my dad to take him to a psychiatrist, he's like: 'oh, I forgot to talk about the psychosis we just talked about the aspergers. Besides people with psychosis are untreatable, you can't convince them otherwise' (see again, my mom). Over the years, I have begged my dad to take my brother to get properly diagnosed and treated (I'm not meaning forced, my brother is also agoraphobic, and won't leave his place UNLESS he is driven by my dad and was living in a city far away from me). I said, I was very concerned for his kids but my dad always gaslights me (and tells everyone I'm crazy -- the IRONY). So now my mom is writing me emails about how this is all my sil's fault because 'she is on drugs' (she is not), 'she is sleeping around' (she is not), 'her kids are scared of her not my brother' (it's the exact opposite). WHICH IS A HUGE TRIGGER FOR ME because She did the exact same thing to ME with my other brother (a diagnosed PSYCHOPATH) who used to beat me and the rest of us mercilessly when my parents weren't around (and they never believed me, and told everyone not to believe me because I was crazy), who pulled a KNIFE on me and threw a drawer at me when I was NINE MONTHS PREGNANT, and how absolutely awful I was AS HIS SISTER to kick him out of my house with no place to live or go (cause he was living with me and my ex-husband at the time because THEY KICKED HIM OUT OF THEIR PLACE and didn't want him back.) Are you beginning to get a sense of the dynamic of my family? Soooooooo the last few weeks my brain has just been in total trauma mode going processing, processing, processing, processing as the final total realization of how absolutely awful my family is finally laid bare (I mean I knew but at least I can stop feeling guilty about cutting them out of my life). So back to the 'second mom' shit, as relevant to my trauma brain processing the last few weeks. This whole shit above is just the tip of the iceberg. I was raised as a Joho in which a lot of my trauma comes from a pedophile left loose on three generations of girls in my family over a thirty year period, and if anyone came forward they were threatened with disfellowshipment and there is SO MUCH there it would take me several Tolkien novels to get how absolutely awful, extensive it was, and how the coverup went straight to the top. ANYHOO. So who was calling me my brother's 'second mom???' Well since, I wasn't allowed to have any association with non-witnesses, it was my congregation. No one questioned that I was being parentified and it was a deeply abusive situation. NO WHAT HAPPENED instead was, this sister in the congregation told everyone (when I was fifteen and 80 pounds soaking wet at the height of 5'10 1/2) that my brother WAS REALLY MY CHILD cause it was so obvious the way that I was the one who took care of him. And the elders of our congregation MARKED me as bad association for loose morals for having a supposed child out of wedlock when I was ELEVEN YEARS OLD. AND NO ONE in my congregation would talk to me, and I had NO IDEA why, cause they never told me that I HAD BEEN

MARKED. But the caveat was I was not allowed to talk to people outside of the faith. And we only found out about this a year an a half later when she said the same shit back in my hometown where he was born to a sister who was at the hospital where my brother was born. AND NO ONE thought, hey: maybe if we think she had a baby when she was eleven we should um CALL CHILD SERVICES or some shit? So i was like 16 1/2, not allowed to have any friends OUTSIDE OF MY PARENTS, find out THIS SHIT, and then people wonder why I had my first manic episode at 17??? Yeah, so this is where my brain has been stuck the last month, complicated that I knew I would be at risk for hypomania with things opening back up, and I'm supposed to be shooting a pilot for a potential series I'm the creator/co-shorunner of, so now I've had to go BACK on seroquel and it's the worst while i try to acclimatize myself to the drugs and stave off hypomania at the same time. WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!

[darling-i-read-it]

Swimming Questions

James Bond x reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: insinuation to smut, naked reader and James for a bit but no actual smut

Author’s Note: Me, realizing I had never written for James Bond before: what...you mean I haven’t accurately shown my love for Daniel Craig until now? IMPOSSIBLE! (but seriously i super super super super super liked writing this and just the way James Bond is never fails to make me SOAR)

Summary: Just some swimming and kissing and chating and James Bond

Genre: flufffffff

(not my gif)

James stared at you from the bed. You were standing on the balcony and you could feel his eyes boring into the back of your skull but you didn’t turn around. The city below you knew nothing about than what you had seen in your most recent adventure with James.

The two of you were both agents of high accord and had been together in some form of way for years now. You had started before he had ever met Vesper and you had been there long after her. He had never imagined the two of you would become so dependent on one another but it had been months since you had seen each other when this trip came round and your emotions melded into some kind of independent but codependent relationship.

You were wearing his white button up because it wasn’t that cold outside where ever you were. You had been on so many missions together, gone rouge together, it was hard to keep track of the cities names. All you remembered of the last few days is James’ hands and your lips on his.

Little of the action stuck with you. Allowed you to let go of the bad things quicker.

You heard the phone ring and that was what made you turn around. His eyes darted away from you and picked up the phone off the floor by the bed. It was yours but he answered it anyway.

“Bond.” Your bare feet padded back into the room and you carefully laid down beside him. He put his arm around you and held the phone to his ear. You kissed his jaw and trailed down to his neck. He wasn’t fazed. “It’s for you,” he said handing it to you. You let out a small sigh and took it from him.

“Y/L/N.”

“So you’re making it your life's mission to make it hard to reach you don’t you?” One of your agent friends that worked closely with you was on the other line. She didn’t work as closely as you and James did but she wasn’t too far away either.

“Yes well it is my day off,” you told her annoyingly. James’ hands reached up and down your side, eventually finding their way under his shirt you were wearing and onto your bare skin. You shivered but didn’t dare look at him in fear you would give yourself away entirely.

“And you’re spending it with Bond?”

“Just living the dream darling. Is there something you need? I’m on a press for time here.” James chuckled against your back where he was now kissing the back of your neck gingerly. Your friend cleared her throat.

“I was going to ask you if you had gotten the containment information processed because it isn’t showing up on our end but it just went through. Sorry to waste precious sex time and give Bond my best.” You rolled your eyes.

“I will. Please inform M he is right where he needs to be darling.”

“Oh between your legs is where he got ordered to b-”

You hung up the phone and tossed it to the floor once more, turning back to James. His hands had wandered again and you grabbed them firmly as they roamed, stopping his kissing enough to look up at you.

“Did you transfer the right information?” you asked him quietly. You were supposed to do that yourself but you had given it to James to do because you were finishing up a part of his work he had left a loose end of. He gave you a look that confirmed your question. He had not given the right information over.

“It will take them the day to realize its wrong and then a day for it to process again and then another day to encrypt that one. That is three whole days to spend in this bed with my best girl,” he told you, blue eyes looking deeply into your own from above you. Your lips upturned in a smile and you watched him a moment longer like you were trying to figure out what you already knew.

“Old dog you have some new tricks in your sleeve left don’t you?” you teased. He moved down and kissed you gently and you reciprocated, knowing now you had three whole days to spare, three days the two of you very rarely got.

“Would you like to join me in the pool?” he questioned, pulling away every slightly. You nodded and brought a hand to his face, running a finger over his jaw, consciously aware that his leg was over yours and how close you were.

“I would very much enjoy that Mr.Bond yes,” you confirmed. He slowly got off of you and walked to the bathroom naked. You wondered if he was really going to put something back on and was slightly disappointed when he returned in swimming shorts. Still shirtless though which gained him some points.

You stood up, keeping the sheet firmly across your body to annoy him and changed into your swimsuit, throwing on one of his t shirts as well. The two of you walked down the hotel stairs to avoid being caught in the elevator alone and landed in the small pool area. It was enclosed on the floor just below your room which was still fairly high up. You had a view through the wall windows and it was empty, the afternoon sun just setting in. You slipped off your shirt and dove into the deep end, coming up and putting your hair back. While you were under James had come in as well. You tread water as he swam over to you, taking you firmly in his grasp and kissing you gently.

“We could have just done this in the room you know,” you said with a bit of laughter. He rolled his eyes and dragged you to the point where he could touch the ground, holding you to his chest.

“Where is any of your spy danger in that?” he questioned. You put your palms to his cheeks and pressed your lips against his in a chaste kiss.

“You know I’ve always wondered what made you stick around with me. Not to get philosophical but just because you’re James Bond and I’m curious to know why I am the woman you continue coming back to.” You felt your heart cut open as you said that, the wonder you had always given to him. You had thought perhaps it was just because he was sure you would always come crawling back, perhaps it was because he knew what you could and couldn’t do. He thought about it for a moment, his eyes on the view behind you, the tips of tall buildings.

“Because I love you.”

Your eyes went wide. Hadn’t been expecting that.

“Don’t know why or when it happened but I know that when you’re in danger I can feel it in my gut. A panic I don’t feel for myself or anyone else. A weakness I suppose.”

If you weren’t already just unable to touch you would have felt like you were flying but you tried not to show it.

“Yes, a weakness. Terrible terrible weakness Bond.”

“You never call me Bond,” he whispered, his eyes scanning your face.

“Because it isn’t your name but just then I was mocking the system.” He couldn’t help but laugh and then he fell serious again but still there was a faint joking air to it.

“But why?”

“Because I love you. James.”

He moved forward and kissed you again and this time you made no protest to where you were when he did it because you wanted it and you knew he did too.

#james bond x reader #james bond imagines

[jj-lives]

Inktober - Frail (bmblb)

Been busy the last 2 days and this one was harder to write than I thought it would be. STILL BEHIND. also FYI if y’all haven’t rear my other Inktober stuff this is all one story, just chapters are out of order due to the prompt days.

----------- If the change had been gradual Yang might not have questioned it as strongly. Had it happened over time she might think it a natural development in their relationship.  If Blake hadn’t gone from affectionate to distant in a matter of days Yang probably wouldn’t have found herself nervously standing outside Blake’s apartment.  She’d been pacing the hallway for more than ten minutes trying to decide if she should knock and confront Blake on her change of attitude, or if she should just ignore it, go home, and hope Blake was back to normal in a few more days. 

In a few days; that wouldn’t work.

In a few days time Blake would not be here.  She would be miles away, in Menagerie, visiting her parents for spring break. If she didn’t confront Blake now, it would have to wait over a week. By then, who knows where they would stand. If Blake was second guessing their relationship Yang wanted to at least have a chance to comfort her concerns before she was too far away for her to reach.

Gathering her courage she finally knocked on the door. It wasn’t long before it swung open and a petite red-head came into view.

“Yeah?” Her voice was shrill and grated on Yang’s eardrums.

“Is Blake home?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Me,” she answered, getting fed up. “Now is she here or not?”

“Jenna, who is it?” Blake’s familiar voice carried from the other side of the door.

“Some girl asking for you.” Jenna looked her up and down. “She won’t give her name. It’s kinda creepy. Should I shut the door on her?” 

Blake came into view over Jenna’s shoulder.

"Yang? What are you doing here?" She stepped in front of her roommate. With one more glance at Yang, Jenna returned to the interior of the apartment.

"Can't a girl come see her girlfriend before she leaves for a week?" Yang teased, smile returning in Blake's comforting presence. 

"Of course she can," she returned the smile. "I just thought we said our goodbyes already."

"That was two days ago. You didn't think I wouldn't come by for a proper goodbye, did you?" Trepidation returned as Yang's fears were confirmed. Blake would have left without saying goodbye if Yang hadn't shown up at her door. "Can we talk?"

"Oh!" She sounded surprised. "If you'd like." She glanced over her shoulder debating if the apartment was safe with Jenna home. 

"We can go for a walk." Yang suggested. "I know you're probably busy packing so I won't take up much of your time."

Blake nodded, grabbed her keys and led Yang out of the building. She automatically turned right, continuing on down the street as if in habit, heading towards the park.  They walked quietly side by side. The silence lasted until they found an empty bench in the park overlooking the pond. The ducks and geese that recently returned from the south swam circles around each other.  

Yang wished she could read Blake's mind. What she wouldn't give to know what was going on in there. The longer the silence prevailed the more distraught Yang became. Knowing this couldn't continue Yang decided to be the one to break the uneasy quiet between them.

"Is everything okay?"

"Of course. Why do you ask?" Surprise evident in her voice.

"You've been quiet, is all."

"I was waiting for you to speak." Blake's words turned prickly. "You asked to talk. I assumed you had something on your mind and I was just letting you gather your thoughts."

"No, not today. Well… yeah today. But also yesterday and the day before. It's been longer than a week." Yang failed to explain.

"I don't understand."

"I just…" she started second guessing herself. It was becoming apparent Blake didn't see any change in their relationship. Maybe Yang was just panicking because this was the longest and farthest Blake would be away from her since they started dating. "No, I couldn't have imagined-"

"Yang, you aren't making any sense."

She took a moment to catch her thoughts; something she should have done on their way to the park like Blake had assumed. 

"We used to talk all day, everyday. We used to make sure if we couldn't see each other one day we would at least find the time to call." Her eyes implored Blake to understand. She didn't know how much longer her words would last. She'd never been good at portraying her emotions through words, but no actions could properly portray what was going on in her head. "Then… it just seemed to abruptly change.  A week ago you just started taking longer to answer my texts, you didn't seem to mind us not seeing each other every day. Nor did you mind when we hardly spoke at all yesterday or that the two days before you'll be gone for a week we never spent anytime just being together. Yesterday we didn't even have a phone conversation."

"Yan-"

"And it's been completely obvious that distance doesn't bother you. Maybe you haven't seen it like I have. Maybe it doesn't matter to you like it matters to me, but finding out you weren't even going to say goodbye to me before leaving…" Yang tore her eyes away as she choked on the words. She despised weakness. She hated feeling inadequate, but that's what this situation made her feel.  "It hurt to realize you could walk away so easily from me."

"That's completely untrue."

"Is it?" Her voice rose, more angry with the tears gathering behind her eyes than with Blake. 

"You're mad."

"I'm upset. I want to know what changed. I want to know what's going on in your head." Yang looked away, defeated. "Maybe that's just never going to happen."

The quiet pervaded and Yang tried to focus on the leaves stirring in the spring breeze or the far off screams and laughter of small children.  Anything to distract her from the agonizing stiffness developing between them.

"I'm sorry."

After two days of not laying eyes on her, now Yang couldn't bring herself to look at Blake. What was she sorry for? For distancing herself? For how it made her feel? Or was she sorry because she didn't feel the same way? Maybe Blake just didn't miss her the way she missed Blake.  Was that such a horrible thing? It wasn't the first time Yang developed stronger feelings for someone. It was just the first time she thought she wouldn't have to worry about that.

"For what?" Yang finally spat, not able to stand the unknown anymore.

"For not being what you need. I understand I can be a lot and if it's getting to be too much…" It was Blake's turn to avert her eyes, becoming overly fixated on a single daffodil swaying in the grass at her feet. "I'd understand if you don't want to see me anymore."

"Why would you say that?" Yang started to panic. This was the last thing she wanted to come from their talk. "I never said I wanted to break up."

"You don't?"

"No! But now I'm starting to think you do." Yang stood and stepped away from the bench, giving her the distance she was in need of.  

"I don't-"

"Then why suggest it?" Yang accused further. "Why say it if it's not what you want?"

The splashes from the pond drew her eye. The waterfowl quacked and spread their wings at one another before dipping below the water's surface. Their tail feathers turned skyward. 

She felt Blake's presence as she joined her.

"Yang, look at me please."  Blake's voice was soft. Yang wasn't surprised when she obeyed. There was no way she would deny Blake anything, even if it hurt to do it. "I'm so sorry if I made you feel like you weren't important to me.  That is the last thing I would want." She gripped Yang's hand tightly with both of hers, as if she though Yang might pull away. It scared her to a point she wasn't sure she wanted to hear Blake's next words. "I have noticed. I've pulled away the past week. You're right." 

Blake's mouth hung and her bottom lip started trembling. She tried two or three times to continue but couldnt seem to form the correct words.  Yang tightened her own hold, wrapping her fingers more securely around Blake's smaller ones. The act seemed to strengthen Blake's resolve. 

"I pulled back, not to cause you pain, but to make myself stronger."

"What do you mean?" Yang asked. "Do I make you feel weak or-"

"No!" She exclaimed. "The opposite really."

"Then…"  Yang tried to make sense of Blake's words but failed. "I really don't understand."

"I… I've been relying on you lately. So I thought if I maybe put some space, just a l-" Frustrated she tried to pull away but Yang held her tight.  Something told her Blake needed this connection as much as she did. "I am stronger with you, Yang. I'm more confident and more at ease whenever you're around. I sit in my room and I wait for your texts or calls and each time my phone rings or buzzes my heart skips a beat. Each time I lay eyes on you I get these…" she laughed and it was such an unexpected change in her behaviour that it jolted Yang. "It's so cliche to talk about butterflies in your stomach. It could ruin a perfectly good book for me and maybe that's because I'd never felt it before. Maybe I thought it wasn't real. But that's the easiest way to describe the feeling I get whenever you're around." 

"Isn't that a good thing. Aren't those good feelings?"

"They are. But by relying on you to make me happy, or to make me feel strong or…Because I'm not as happy without you it just felt, logically to me, like I was becoming weak. I've always been independent, Yang. I've always been on my own and relied on no one but myself."

"I know." Yang smiled softly, well aware of the loneliness of Blake's past. "But you don't have to do any of this on your own anymore. If you just let me in."

"It's hard. Yang, I want to be able to fix this -to fix me- but it's easier for me to withdraw into myself. It's a habit, or self preservation or something. I don't know. It hurt to distance myself from you and I was prepared for that. But I never thought of how it would affect you and for that I'm so sorry. I can't promise I won't fall back to it again but I can promise I'll try to do better moving forward."

"That's all I can ask. I just didn't know if I'd done something wrong or if you were having second thoughts about us."

"You have been amazing and the last thing I want to do is to lose you."

"You won't." Yang leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to Blake's waiting lips. "I'm going to miss you this week."

"I'll miss you too." Blake responded, connecting their lips for longer. When they pulled back both were wide grins. 

"Let's head back." Interlocking their fingers Yang guided them out of the park. "You still need to pack and to get a good rest. You have to be up early tomorrow."

"Always looking out for me."

"Always." Yang responded resolutely. 

When they arrived at her apartment Blake reached to unlock the door but Yang invaded her space, pressing her up against the door. She leaned in but hesitated just before their lips met. Blake growled at her teasing and tilted her head to make up the distance. What started off as sweet pecks in between shared smiles soon turned more intense. Remembering this would be the last time she'd see Blake for a week had her pressing forward to reduce the space between them. Blake moaned into her mouth as their bodies pressed closer. 

The noise sobered Yang. She realized this was not the time nor the place to get into that. She left one last lingering kiss on Blake's lips before she stepped back. The sight of Blake with her eyes half closed and mouth parted, as if expecting Yang's lips to return any moment did something to Yang. Internally she struggled, relying on her confidence to strengthen her resolve.  

"Give Rosco a hug for me okay? I miss the little guy."

"You'll miss me too, right?"

“More than a little. But not as much as Rosco.”

“I see where I stand in this relationship.” 

Blake was still laughing as the door closed behind her. Yang glanced once more at the closed door before turning to retreat. 

The only thing going through her mind was just how much she would miss Blake. And the thought of how easily she was falling for her wouldn’t leave her alone. It wouldn’t be long before she found herself head-over-heels in love with the girl., but unlike with previous relationships she found herself running towards the feeling rather than from it.

#bumbleby #my writing #inktober #day 8 #Frail #I'm only 7 days behind... oof.

[redandfranticfeelings]

an autistic analysis, lyric by lyric, of ‘i love play rehearsal’

ive been hyperfixating over bmc for the last month and i keep thinking about how autistic the main characters are and christine is so very very very autistic coded to me. so i decided im just going to straight up deconstruct the lyrics of her signature song in the context of her being autistic (and also having adhd, but my experience is mostly in autism)

this is very very rambley and based more on personal experience than research, so i doubt itll be interesting to anybody but me, but i just want to talk about christine, the autistic queen

I love play rehearsal Because its the best! Because it is fun. I love play rehearsal and I get depressed as soon as its done.

it goes without saying that chrstine’s special interest is theater right? the way she treats it as the “highlight of [her] life” and then switches into this song after acting completely awkward and disinterested in jeremy outside of the context of him being engaged in her special interest.

But not depressed as in like kill yourself depressed No, im not into self-harm Dude, I swear, here check my arm!

overexplaining in a way that reads very much like speaking before she thinks, even though bringing up self harm in casual conversation with someone you barely talk to is not exactly proper etiquette. i think this is also an adhd trait? going faster than your own brain. that’s basically this whole song.

See, I just use the word to emphasise a point, Show the passion I have got I am passionate a lot. I have mad, gigantic feelings, Red and frantic feelings, About most everything Like gun control, like spring,

a lot of people assume autistic people are typically emotionless but it’s also very easy for us to get caught up in emotional issues especially when it comes to stuff we love, and it catches us off guard. christine being hyperempathetic is implied later in the show when she has that awful survivors’ guilt over making fun of rich and jake, and it also plays into her being so socially conscious as well.

Like if I’m living up to all I’m meant to be.

being an high school junior is really rough bc of all the decisions that have to be made regarding college and your future as an independent adult, and being autistic just makes it worse bc it can easily lead to burnout to deal with so much at once, if you even can comprehend these things much at all (i had no idea what to do, lol). i doubted my ability to grow up and succeed constantly because i had no idea who to talk to and what questions to ask and how to present myself. that’s something that a lot of people worry about, but having social delays makes it way more of a pressing issue than it is for neurotypicals, i feel.

I also have a touch of ADD. Where was I? Oh, right!

self explanatory and very canon. adhd and autism can be diagnosed simultaneously nowadays and the symptoms overlap a lot, btw.

I love play rehearsal, Cause’ you are equiped with direction and text, Life is easy in rehearsal, You follow a script so you know what comes next. Anywho the point that I’m getting to is sometimes life can’t work out in the way It works out in the play

this part screams autistic culture to me. unpredictability is scary because social situations don’t always go smoothly like in fiction! this is why social scripting is a popular therapy tactic for autistic children- you have to manually study social situations like a script. theater is something meant to be memorized and recited until you’re able to process it and manufacture emotion, but honestly for autistic kids, life feels a lot like that sometimes. remember how miserable she got when one of her favorite plays had the script changed without her permission to make a whole new story she doesn’t know? of course that’s just upsetting on its own, but in the context of her knowing theater so well and being fully prepared for one story only to be forced to learn a new one? ouch.

christine is never shown as comfortable outside her element- she hides in a book during “more than survive” and shrinks into nothing at the party. it’s a recurring theme that she has no idea exactly who she is, struggles with her identity outside of theater, and despite not really caring about how people see her, she does care about her own ability. socializing makes her feel awkward, especially when something totally unexpected happens like jake or jeremy asking her out. if she doesn’t have a plan or routine or, well, a script, then she can’t trust herself to go forward.

Like the only time I get to be the center of attention, Is when I’m Juliet or Blanche DuBois

as an autistic theater kid, i just really do relate to being clueless and dumb in real life but being able to totally thrive on the stage, because you can channel the energy that is usually misplaced in real life social interactions, and transfer it through dialogue and song and dance that someone else laid out nicely for you.

and can I mention? That was really one of my best roles, Did you see that?

an epic combination of letting your mind wander easily without caring about making sense to the person you’re speaking to, and taking every opportunity to infodump. in a lot of productions she even mimics her blanche voice just for fun. jeremy tries to respond here but she doesn’t care because she’s in her own brain where everything only really seems to make sense to her.

And no matter how hard I try, It’s impossible to narrow down the many reasons why, I love play rehearsal. I happiness cry whenever it starts!

if she isn’t being hyperbolic then this plays into my ‘so much emotion it’s hard to control’ thing detailed a bit above. either way, big special interest mood.

It’s just so universal Getting to try playing so many parts. Most humans do one thing for all of their lives, The thought of that gives me hives! I’ve got so many interests I wanna pursue,

it’s a lot easier to lose yourself and connect to your special interest than focus on your very complex, very overwhelming real life issues. escaping into fiction and being able to play in a variety of social situations as a totally different person, yay theater!

in general i just like the idea of christine struggling to visualize who she is and thinking about a lot of hypothetical but being unable to choose which one is most desirable or plausible. idk if that’s autistic or just a fun character trait lol. i know jumping from interest to interest is an adhd thing though.

this little passage is good for at least showing that christine distinguishes herself from ‘most humans’ in a way that isn’t so much ‘not like other girls’ but like ‘life is so much more confusing to me than it seems to be to others’ (which the show proposes isn’t exactly true and is the same closed-mindedness that jeremy has, though christine realizes it sooner; however; the sentiment rings true in that christine, as a neurodiverse young woman, has a lot more hoops to jump through than a neurotypical classmate.)

And why am I telling this to you? Guess there’s a part of me that wants to.

jeremy is also very autistic coded in my eyes, but that’s a separate post. i just like them being drawn to each other through that sort of kinship. also if you interpret her as having an unrealized requited crush on him…well, i think for a lot of us, romantic love is easy to confuse with friend love, if even that, because the specifics of emotions are a mess to unravel. (which also explains her confusion on her relationship with jake)

oh and right after this, she starts squawking just because she had the impulse to do so. vocal stimming, much?

Back to play rehearsal, My brain is like ‘bzzz’ My heart is like 'wow’

my brain is always like bzzz honestly lol. this is generally a pretty good way to describe being hyperfocused.

Because we’re here at play rehearsal, and it’s starting, We’re starting, It’s starting, Sooo-ooon.

it’s been confirmed as a deliberate decision that christine’s songs never end on a rhyme, except when she’s squipped and it isn’t ‘really’ her, because she subverts everyone’s expectations, including jeremy’s. i feel that could make for a nice simplified metaphor for autism, right?

#christine canigula #autistic headcanons #allistics can reblog! #be more chill #bmc #gif #long post #queue are so busted #i might do something like this for loser geek whatever and/or more than survive #or even just bmc songs in general if i cant get enough material from them individually #be more neurodivergent #kin tag

[alitheamateur]

The Grind-Chapter 19

The newby fighters thankfully handled media horrendously, answering questions in choppy six or seven word responses. Sure, it limited the material and made the story vulnerable to the writers embellishing devices, but the speedy conclusion of the often clock-stopping, boring event was never one complained about amongst the journalistic world.

When I stepped outside in pursuit of the strangely near empty bar, I pulled the sleeves of my blazer off and draped it over my forearm, sliding my clutch between my bicep and ribcage. The crisp, white silk of the tank top swayed with the calm, cool breeze of the nighttime air, mixing with my nervously sweating skin, creating an array of chill bumps over my flesh. An exiting patron held the door open as I swept inside the dimly lit sports bar. There weren’t many tables, only 3 tv’s, and no blasting music. Hence the lack of customers, I’m sure. Colton was easy to spot, hunching at a high-top near the glass front of the building. He hadn’t ordered a drink yet, once again, trying desperately to execute that military like, gentlemanly manner his father Michael, had instilled in him, presumably. I dropped the weight of my tired body in the un-cushioned wooden seat, and huffed aloud in the relief. “That didn’t take too long,” he stated first.

“Those two were complete media virgins. They didn’t have much to say.” I confirmed as I massaged in the sanitizer I applied to my palms, and scanned over the sparse clients.  

“Want me to grab you a drink or somethin’? I didn’t know if you were still a martini girl, so I held off.” Had his accent become thicker with his hair?

“Actually, I’ll just take a seltzer. Lime on the side too, please.” Tia would probably be able to sniff out the scent of alcohol in my sweat like a hungry hound dog, and have my tail for drinking while training.

She had graciously granted me a pass on my birthday, so I didn’t see it wise to push my luck any further. Come to think of it though, when in the actual hell had I become the girl to drink seltzer water and lime?

My ex now turned waiter for the moment returned with a small square tumbler filled with fizzy, clear liquid, and a long neck in his other hand. His black shirt painted over the ripples of his back, the muscles there moved like thickened water down the spread of him. I’d love to be a fly on the wall when he shops for himself. I can only imagine his decision-making unraveling something like, “yeah, black t-shirt. I can always use another black t-shirt.”

“Thank you,” I said between lengthy sips. “And thanks too for, um… the flowers. They were stunning. You really didn’t have to, but it was a sweet gesture, Colton.”

“So I did okay, huh? They’re your favorite?” He hoped with questioning eyes, taking a quick pull of his sweating beer.

“Yes, Colt. They’re my favorite. You did well. Extremely well.”

“I owe you another 50 dozen more, Liv��.”

Here is comes. The conversation was about to take a dicey dive into the abyss.

“It’s not flowers I need, Colton. I think you know a million dollars’ worth of pretty bouquets won’t fix, this.” I drew an invisible line through the space from me, to him, “It’s not gonna fix us. Or, whatever us there was, I guess.”

He sat his half empty beverage on the scuffed table tap, and I noticed the glass chatter against the surface. He was shaking. This wasn’t the angry, poked bear shaking though. This was the abused, cowering, wounded bird shaking.

“Yeah, Liv. I get that, okay? I just didn’t know where to fuckin’ start, ya’ know? I didn’t wanna get too pushy..” he began, while drawing nervous figure-eights with his callused finger tips along the cracks in the table top.  “But, I gotta know. I ain’t tryna put you on the spot or nothin’, but is there any fixing it, babe? I have no right to asking you this shit, I realize that. But, just give me somethin’ here, Liv. Should I just write us off?”

The million dollar question. How was I supposed to give him the answer his desperate eyes so anxiously desired, when I didn’t have it myself? I loved Colton Ritter, no matter how blindly I wanted the fact to be untrue, there was no refuting it. But, I couldn’t shake the reluctancy I felt towards him either. That apprehensive, yet yearning brew filling up my gut. The next words I spoke to him would be the defining moment of what my future held, so I hesitated. Taking as long as I needed to sort through the perfect retort.

“You act like that’s such a simple question to answer, Colt. You have no idea what you did to me for Christ sakes,” my fist gently, but effectively smacked the table, clinking the glass beverages there. I refrained from chewing his hide in nagging anger, but I wasn’t about to hold back on what I truly needed to say. “I was a literal basket case. As damn foolish and weak as that may sound, it’s a fact. I missed work, I made myself sick from the unrelenting crying. Like, seriously, there was actual vomit, Colton. I wore your fuckin clothes around the apartment like a lost mutt!” I could see him tense entirely, almost wincing aloud in shame and heartache. And I half wondered if maybe he’d done some of his own shameful grieving during our time apart. “Every day for nearly a year felt like one big, constant punch to my gut, making it almost hard to even catch a decent breath. I’ve been better for a while now, but every single day, your stupid, smug face finds its way into my head….” I allowed myself a pause to try and extinguish the burning tears I knew were about to come loose, but there was no use. Once the first fell, I just opened the watery dam. “If I’m being honest, part of my really just hates you. A big chunk of me, as a matter of fact. But I know the love is still there, as much as the hate. Probably more,” snubbing through my tearful fit. “I don’t think I’m ready right this minute, Colton. For us, I mean. I think I might be at some point, but who’s to say… I can’t name the day and time. So, if that isn’t enough for you, and you feel like I’m a waste of your time, then yes, you should just move on.”  

Th brawniest, hard as stone man I’d ever known, raised a hand to wipe dry his weepy eyes. It wasn’t a hysterical, sobbing outburst, and an actual tear may not have fallen free, but they were there. The glazy sheen over his blue toned eyes tonight gave him away. He blew out the breath he’d apparently been holding in before his mustered the composure to speak back.

“I’m on your time, Livvy, alright? I’ll just stay outta your way, and if ya’ want me, you know I’m here. I fucked up. Royally, to say the least. There is so much I wanna say, and I hope you gimme the chance to piece it all together for you someday in the near future. I’m sorry seems to be the most important thing right now. And I’m gonna say it every day I have the chance. I’ll hang back as best I can, okay? And if someone else so happens to come along, for either of us, then I guess that’s that, huh?” He reached forth his hand to graze as gently as a summer breeze over my resting fingers, a current of G-force energy rattled through my every internal organ. I didn’t jerk away from his touch this time, instead allowing myself the loving awakening I had longed for the past days without him. He’d be the death of me, whether it be in happiness or misery, I wasn’t sure.

“I think that sounds like the best way to handle it, Ritter. I can work with that,” I sheepishly smiled, curling an auburn strand behind my ear. “Now, I better get home and get some sleep.” Picking my clutch up first, then swallowing the last mouthful of my drink, I stretched my petite legs searching for the ground below me. Before I could drop on my heels, he had swiftly came to my side, offering his hand out to steady my drop from the heighted stool. The man was so full of these sickeningly, syrupy sweet courtly gestures, and I might as well have been licking the plate.

“Let me walk you to the car this time. Please?” he almost begged holding my jacket open for me to slide my arms in.

“How about I walk you to your bike, and we’ll call it a night.” It wasn’t a question. I wanted to seem as independent as I could to him, while also establishing again that I’d be okay without him if things didn’t pan out with our relationship.

I went out on a wobbly whim and locked my arm through the empty crease in his elbow, while his hand was snuggled deep into his jean pockets, and out of a side eyed glance, and detected a half smile on his lips. “My bike is right here on the corner. Is you car close?”

“Close enough. Don’t you worry about me, kid,” I winked before breaking my clutch on his arm as we reached his black bike parked by a ticking meter.

“Hey listen, Liv. I’m thinking about sticking with Temple Fitness. Y’know like, staring up a membership to train there and stuff. But if you’re not good with it, then I’m out.” He remarked strapping his helmet around his bearded, calico chin.

“I think I can handle it, Colton. Just stay outta my way, big guy..” it was clear by the playfulness of my high pitched, girl giggly that I was testing the waters with some flirty banter. The saluted “yes, boss” he tossed back told me he was aware of my joking tone. When I took a couple slow paces in exit, bidding him a goodnight, he met my steps, and leaned in for a hopeful kiss to my pert cheek. \

“Not yet, Colt. Not yet, okay?” The dangerously close presence of his lips to me could’ve shot me a million feet in the air above us. But, I had to keep the line drawn, for now anyways. He wasn’t out to the woods yet.

When I gave him my back in search of my own car down the sidewalk, he yelled my name, muffled through the visor of his helmet.

“Hey 2-1!” I turned slightly, never ceasing my footsteps, careful not to lose my balance while walking backwards in my strappy shoes. “You look better than ever, babe. And I’ll happily take my punishment for sayin’ it.” He took his bottom lip between his teeth, and I curled my lips up with brows raised in disbelief, yet satisfying pleasure, winking with no words, and went on my merry way. I heard his bike fire up with an almost lion like roar, and he sped off in the opposite direction. Revving his accelerator, no doubt in teenage like, hormonal ego.

 The next morning, all too bright, and much too early I entered the office hanging my sleepy head, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events the previous evening. Through groggy rasps, I served my morning hellos to passing co-workers, determined to reach the noiseless four walls of my office and downing the contents of my Styrofoam cup. If I timed it just right, I thought maybe I could even sneak a 30-minute powernap sometime around the 10 o’clock hour. When I crossed the concierge desk, Layla, the awkward, mousy receptionist waved a hand to halt me.

“This package came to you this morning, Ms. Elliott.” The box rectangular box, wrapped in wrinkled brown paper had apparently been delivered early morning to the office.

I thanked Layla the messenger, and stepped over the threshold of the empty elevator. The package was unmarked, only adding to the quizzical allure, but I held my eager hands from slashing through the wrapping until I got into my private office. I blindly flipped on the single light switch, my purse thudding onto the neatly organized desktop calendar. I ripped the first corner of the box opened before I was even sat into the swivel seat, when a small folded sheet of paper fell into the floor.

Livvy,

Thought you may need this. The other one seemed little ratty. I think I cut it just how you like them. There’s plenty more where this came from.

Love,

Colt

I dropped the lid of the package, peeling back a translucent layer of tissue paper to find a white, slightly dingy colored Pittsburgh Pirates t-shirt. One I very much recognized as belonging to the gift giver himself. A weak smile had instantaneously crept across my face as I ran a thumb over the fading of the smooth polyester blend. I pondered, and settled on a decision in that second, that I was going to unapologetically relish the games he’d be willingly to play to win back my affection. I wasn’t wholeheartedly dreadful though, and I knew sending him thanks for the thoughtful efforts was the right thing to do, so I sent him a text to extend some reserved gratitude. Giving him the impression I was appreciative, but wasn’t eating out of his veiny hands just yet.

Tia was distant as of recent. Cold as a sparkling Pittsburgh frost before dawn. The conversation we had about my exchanges with Colt weren’t half as pleasant, and supportive as my phone call with Sara. Tia hated the man, not saying I blamed her. No matter what he said, or didn’t say, the gifts he gave, or the groveling that arose, she wasn’t forgetting the past. Colton Ritter was blacklisted indefinitely in her book. So much so, I even had to gulp down concerns that fizzled for my own friendship with her.

Climbing the steel steps of the cage with her was never too terribly intimidating before that night. I always knew no matter how repetitive she’d  be with her promising that she wouldn’t take it easy on me, I could always sense the restraint of her moves. Yet again, before that night… The trifling stomps of her bare feet across the mat would’ve signaled danger, if the haughty shove passed my shoulder hadn’t already. “Chew that rubber, Elliott,” she yelled unkindly, instructing me to hurry with my mouth piece so we could get the session underway.

She was bouncing upward, shoving her knees into her chest, stretching to shatter my thighs with one of her categorical back kicks. Willow was crouched in the floor beside the metal confines, arms crossed about her chest in curious observation, Tia’s harshness not unnoticed by her and the onlookers in the workout room. We danced the usual mirrored waltz across the octagon from each other, each waiting for someone to stretch forth searching for the first connecting jab. Before my mind had a single minute to strategize an assault, Tia lunged lowly to bearhug my legs right from beneath my own body, and my elbows nearly ricocheted off the canvas floor. The sweat of my attacker was already profusely flowing, more so from the rumbling anger, and probable resentment she was feeling for the likes of me. We wormed around on the patched ground, she grabbing a lock around my legs, me tugging on her extended forearm. Amongst our grunts, and gasps of pain, a very confused and scratchy voice sung out above all else.  

“The fuck? Liv?”

My eyes beckoned toward Colton’s wide stance next to Willow, but Tia didn’t let up. The more I fidgeted for release, the tighter she wound her meager form around me. When the match between us didn’t halt, I heard his intrusions slice the room again.

“LIV!” But this time, it wasn’t a questioning tone. He was demanding acknowledgment, and more importantly an explanation.

My “friendly” opponent loosened her vice, and I lunged a swift, fumbly kick to shake her off. If my face wasn’t already reddened from the efforts of the spar, it sure would’ve been painted with  a bright shade when I stood to see the concerned contortions of his always tempting mouth. With his hands raised in dumbfounding confusion awaiting his answer, I rushed towards the cage door to meet him in the corner he was heading to.

“THIS is what you’ve been doing here, Livvy? What the hell?” He was lazily scratching a hand through the brown of his beard.

“Not that it’s a single ounce of your business, Colt, but yes. Started a few months back, Tia suggested it.” My feet firm and solid under his disapproving stares.

“Oh, c’mon Liv. I don’t mean to sound like a bossy prick about it, ok? It’s your life, you can do what ya’ want with it. It just… I dunno.. scares me, I guess…” I turned to notice his restless hands, squirming in fists at his side, and his teeth visibly grinding behind closed chops. “I hate myself for hurting you. How did ya’ think I was gonna take to seeing someone smash a fist to those pretty cheeks, babe?”

My gloved fingers didn’t hesitate to seek out his own, stilling his concerns. I intertwined our digits, and I swear I felt the life creep back into me.  His eyes closed under feathery lashes, and there was no denying the husky exhalation that purred from him at our connecting flesh.

“I’m not some.. some weak kitten, Colt. I know you think I’m just a lowly damsel who needs a constant eye watching over her, but, that’s not the case.”

Although maybe very “me: Tarzan, you: Jane” to the outsiders perspective, Colton was very… well, male. He considered his place as my partner to be one of the valiant knight, shielding me from any oncoming harm. My humble opinion? It was all part of his blue collar, endearing charm. But, he’d have to reel it in on the aspect of my fight training.

“It’s not that I think ya’ need it 24-hour surveillance, kid. As a matter of fact, I think it’s just a shot to my ego that you don’t need it, ya’ know. I just wanna protect ya’, alright? Damn it, you’re always makin’ me… makin’ me talk so much, 2-1.” He enfolded my small hand tighter under his grip.

“I appreciate that. My very own lethal prrotector, huh?” I winked and wet my bottom lip catching his eye. “Ask Tia though, I hold my own with these gloves, big shot. Be careful, or you may have to find out first hand.”

Cool it, hormones. You might as well just jump his bones right here.

The flirtation went crawling like a cold shutter obviously over his roasting skin, and his eyes were swirling through shades of blue. “I would happily take that beating, sweetheart!”

Walk away. Now. Go liv, you’re drooling.

“I gotta get back to her though, or I’m gonna pay the price. See ya’ around?” I was securing the gloves assuredly, ready to bid riddance to him before his animal senses detected my feminine excitement, and he held me back.

“I’ll be around, yeah. Oh, hey girl! Nice shirt, by the way..” I went for a drink of my room temperature sports drink and nearly gagged on it. No way he couldn’t notice I was sporting the package he’d delivered a few short hours ago.

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935 @mollybegger-blog @littleluna98

#Tom Hardy #tomhardy #tomhardyfanfic #tomhardyfanfiction #tom hardy fanfiction #tommy conlon #elizabeth olsen #thegrind

[grandthorkiday]

Mob AU! “Playthings” Part 18

[Link to mob!au anon’s “Playthings" fic tag]

[Start at Part 1]*

(*Note: Link is editable for other parts, just change the number. For mobile users, tag is “playthings part1”)

“I’m here once again in the penthouse suites of the Gladiator Hotel with En Dwi Gast, as well as Thor and Loki Valhalla. I suppose I’ll begin with you Loki. How do you feel?”

“Better than I was a week ago, thank you. A little silly. It all seems very…stupid now that I look back on it. Just all very stupid.”

“Can you take us through what led to you being nearly forced to testify against your boyfriend?”

“It’s all right, sweetheart. Don’t be shy.”

“I uhm…I am a recovering addict and my road to recovery has been rocky to say the least. Especially with my depression. And I had a few friends who never supported my transition to being sober. So a few months ago they came to visit and wanted to get high. I said no. I’m clean now, and I have the best two boyfriends anyone could ask for who want me clean. They didn’t like that because I was the one who would buy so they beat me. I ended up in the hospital. They panted some drugs on me, I guess for revenge and well, the police arrested me.”

“The police and DA claim you weren’t arrested.”

“That’s not what they told me. They arrested me and then claimed I was danger to myself and locked me in mental facility.”

“They say you consented to go.”

“I consented under pressure. I stayed because I thought they were helping. I do have depression and they promised to keep me clean. They promised….it wasn’t until my Father and the State got involved that I realized it was a lie-”

Val turned off the television. She couldn’t watch Gast having Loki lean into him, his arm drapped around the younger man as he spoke. She couldn’t watch as he rubbed his knee tenderly and kissed his forehead occasionally. It made her physically ill and she had to get ready for her ‘workout’.

[read more cut]

Thor hadn’t appeared on Saturday to the gym and Monday he had came and went without speaking to them. Well, barely speaking to them. He had given them a heads up about this interview and a few interdepartmental moles. A few uniform officers in Major Crimes were already placed subtly under surveillance and put on ‘light’ duty to keep them from learning about what was happening thanks to that information.

But the Sakaar mob was not the only thing they had to worry about.

“Again, I really think you two should leave before you fuck us over again,” Bruce said crossing his arms and leaning back in one of the chairs in the private room.

“My client has a right to be here. This is his son,” the lawyer said calmly, not even blinking at the eyes that rolled at the comment.

“So was Loki,” Natasha pointed out.

Odin glared from his position in one of the recliners. “And you saw how he acted in that interview.”

“I don’t know how many times we have to explain that is a lie,” Bruce growled.

“You can stay, but hinder this at all or don’t abide by the rules, you’re out of here and being charged with obstruction,” Tony warned.

The lawyer looked as though he was going to object when the door opened and once again Thor slid into the room. He had a large salad and a to go cup filled with some type of smoothie. Again he had showered before he had come to see them, and the room was filled with the smell of shower gel and deodorant.

“Sorry about Monday. Had promised I’d do something for…well it doesn’t matter. Catch the interview? They’re still playing it and we got another one lined up. Almost wasn’t allowed out!” He laughed as he sat down, throwing down his backpack he had slung over his shoulder down. “Calorie counting, again.” He explained as he waved a hand toward the smoothie.

Val caught sight of Odin. He looked at the young man in shock, his hand wanting to reach out for his son. He was tearing up. In spite of the anger she felt towards him, she couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him in this moment.

“Now, before we begin, I must warn you that we can’t really use much of what Loki already provided us in any trial that goes forward after this,” Tony began, pulling out a large notepad and several pens. While they were indeed still taping the interview, they felt that not telling Thor would be beneficial, allowing for a more honest testimony.

“Double jeopardy,” Thor nodded as he grazed. “Yeah. He crowed about that for a bit once Max got in touch with him.”

“Max?”

“Security guard dude. Guy who slipped Loki the new phone that got him in touch with Grandmaster.” He pointed at the pad of paper, “Should write that down.”

As Tony did, Natasha asked, “We’ll come back to that but I think we should confirm somethings. So we’re all on the same page.”

He shrugged, still eating his salad contentedly, looking vaguely past the female ADA at point on the wall.

“Okay, again just so we’re clear, you and your brother were kidnapped by Gast in 2009 from a bar near NYU?”

“The Independent, or something like that, but yeah.”

“And you were kept a few months in the basement of one of his penthouses?”

Thor nodded nonchalantly. “Don’t remember which one. One of the crappier ones, but that doesn’t much help, does it?”

“No it doesn’t but that doesn’t mean you are not helping. You are being extremely helpful.”

“I wish to ask a question,” the new lawyer said, leaning forward. Thor seemed only mildly surprised at this new person, but Val had a feeling he simply didn’t remember how many people had been there originally. “What part did Loki play in your kidnapping?”

“Loki?” The blonde frowned. “He was kidnapped with me. His part was victim number two. What the hell kind of question was that?!” He was getting agitated, throwing down his fork in frustration.

Before Tony could intercede, the lawyer foolishly said, “Many sources say that Loki helped assist in your capture and-”

The table was banged as Thor brought both fists down on it. He looked the lawyer directly in the eye as he spoke, causing the man to shrink in on himself. It was the first time outside of looking at Gast or Loki that he had looked at anything or anyone directly. “Did those fuckwit PIs my Dad send around tell you that? Those assholes were paid off ten minutes after they were hired. I was in the room when it happened. Loki was in the room! We had to…” He looked away again, and began to shrink once more. He looked so lost and small. His eyes again became unfocused and vacant. “Those PIs were useless.”

There was a tension in the room as the young man breathed heavily for a moment before picking up his fork and viciously stabbing a piece of lettuce.

“Okay, that was very helpful,” Val soothed, sending the lawyer a smug smile.

The lawyer was not done however. “And the relationship between you and Loki? When and how did that begin?”

“2010. Grandmaster gave us an option. Fuck or go back to the basement. The basement was awful. Loki got this had cough when we were down there. In the winter he still gets pretty sick. I think he has an infection or something. He got this fever once where he couldn’t see. I thought he was permanently blind.”

“May I ask why it started?” Bruce asked gently.

“He had access to our internet history. Had a few IT guys on the payroll, learned that later. Saw….,” his hand was shaking as tried to eat. It was obvious he wasn’t tasting anything in his mouth. “Saw the fact that I…had a…I guess you could call it a crush but it was more than that it was-”

“Stop!” Odin stood up and was walking over to Thor, tears on his cheek. “You don’t have to lie for him!! It’s alright, son! It’s alright!”

Whatever one expected of a son and father reuniting after ten years, this was not that. Thor looked shocked at Odin. Fearful even. He was out of his chair and backing up, looking like he was going to flee. His movements were uncoordinated, and his eyes whirled around in terror. Bruce and Val stood and tried to step between them, but Odin shoved them aside trying to embrace Thor who again kept moving away.

“Son! It’s alright! You’re free! You can come home! My boy! My baby boy!” The father’s voice shook as he motioned to the younger man to join him in his embrace.

“What are you doing here? Is this a trick? I said I’m not going to any safehouse-”

“He came on his own accord.” Tony said quickly. “He’s not with us!”

“You can come home with me! Your room is just how you left it.” Odin had finally closed the gap between them, hugging Thor closer than he had ever hugged Loki. Thor was stiff in his arms, eyes lookng vacantly through Bruce and Val.

“I am going back to Loki.” His voice was quiet but firm.

“You don’t have to go back! Not to that monster or his whore ever again.”

The word whore seemed to make Thor come alive. He grabbed Odin and practically threw him into a wall, his fist raised to strike. If took both detectives holding is other arm not to get him to swing.

“You did it didn’t you?! You really did call him a whore!?! I thought it was something he made up to please Grandmaster, but no, you really did it! You called him…FUCK YOU! He used to dream about coming home to you and mom! He used to talk about it all the time! And when he got back this time, how he just cried. You called him a whore?! Why?! Why?!”

“Thor!”

“S-son! My bo-”

“I’m not YOUR boy! Not anymore.” He dropped Odin, still pinning him with proximity and a glare to the wall. “Do you how many opportunities we had to give him information about your business dealings? Do you know how much we could have gained?”

“You would nev-”

“In a heartbeat I would. In a fucking heartbeat. Hey ADA, you wanna know something? About Max? The security guard my…Father hired?”

“S-sure,” Tony said nervously.

“He tried to get Loki to leave. Just walk out the door and leave. Loki said no. Even when he got the phone and could text Grandmaster, he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay. But he kept saying he missed him. He missed being held. He missed being told he was good. That’s why he did it, y'know? Tried to kill himself. Because the Grandmaster stopped texting back. I wasn’t allowed on the phone but I would hear it go off. I begged to be able talk to him. But he was bad.”

Thor ran his fingers through his hair and turned away from the wall and his Father and began to pace. His words were quick and crazed as he spoke. “He was bad. He should have just come home. I should have been there. I shouldn’t have been bad in the first place. That’s how this all started! I was bad. I was bad. I was-”

“Thor!” Val grabbed his hand and pulled it way from his head. Calmly, she asked, “What do you mean, this is how it all started?”

“I’m the reason we were separated. And why he was in the hospital. The first time. I saw Heimdall, my old roommate, at a bookshop and got invited for coffee. I used to have a massive crush on him, and I guess it wasn’t one-sided. I begged Grandmaster to let me go on the coffee date. He agreed, but I had to be back by 10. And no touching.” He giggled, a strange weird giggle. “I was just so happy to see him! And he is a PhD candidate now! I stayed until 10:45 and I may have let him kiss me. It was just a friendly one. But Grandmaster gets so jealous. He asked how I felt about hurting him and Loki. Especially Loki. And when I didn’t say anything, he slapped Loki so hard he fell off the couch!”

“He put Loki in the hospital….because he was jealous?”

“Yeah. But it’s okay. It was my fault. I just forgot. I forgot how jealous he gets. He once had my shoulder dislocated because Loki kept talking to this one guy. Don’t even think he liked him, just took to long getting back to our table. He cried when he was told he had to put it back in place. Loki isn’t as strong as me, so it took several tries. And we had to be quiet because there was a meeting.”

Thor slumped forward, swaying slightly. He looked like he was wrung out wash cloth of emotions. They were going to get nothing else from today.

“Y-you wanna pick this up on Saturday?” Bruce asked, patting his shoulder.

“Yeah. I should get going. He wants to watch some old sci-fi movie. I dunno. Maybe we can convince him to watch a comedy.”

It was strange to think of a monster in such human terms. But it was stranger to watch Thor gather his things up and willingly leave to go back to the monster, even turning around and smiling at them as he did so. “See ya, Saturday!”

#thorki #loki #frostmaster #thor #GrandthorkiB #sfw #fic #cw noncon implied #cw suicidal ideation #cw mental illness #cw drugs #cw rl drugs #playthings #submission

[havekiddoswilltravel]

Mother’s Day Reflections – A Guide to Finding Joy on Mother’s Day

Dearest imperfect mom: I see you and you Matter!

If sadness creeps into your heart on Mother’s Day, you’re not alone. I often say that my life has not turned out how I imagined. As a young child, I recall sitting at church at a very young age and offering to hold other people’s children. I’m the youngest of three and a natural nurturer. I would daydream about what my adult life would look like and it always included a house full of children. Then I got older and excelled in academics and all of a sudden, my identity was linked more and more to accomplishments and success. I graduated from high school at the age of 16 and started my career by the age of 20. By the time I met my now husband my family goals had been put on the back burner to my career aspirations. The week that we met, I had spent time looking at job openings abroad and was ready to give in to my travel bug tendencies by exploring a position out of the country. God had other plans. Plans that in retrospect, I’ve stubbornly fought. I can be hard headed.

As I reflect on these events of almost 19 years ago, I can clearly see how I’ve come full circle to my natural tendencies as a nurturer. My career dreams have shifted in order to do right by my marriage and family. Even though I’m on social media daily for the purpose of my blog, I have a love - hate relationship with everything it represents. Social media’s polished snap shots of life can cause one to feel inadequate and lonely, all while being surrounded the thousands of “friends.” It can at times amplify our feelings of inadequacy in parenting and marriage and make us feel not good enough or a failure due to the mistakes that we’ve made.  The positives of social media are that is has allowed me to meet, establish and maintain relationships with amazing women, that have kept me connected and grounded throughout this parenting journey. These women (some are mothers and others are not) have encouraged me to be transparent and vulnerable in order to continue to mentor and inspire others. Is life perfect? Heck no and that’s the truth that I want to focus on this Mother’s Day.

Parenting is hard work and I hope that this atypical Mother’s Day blog post will help you realize that no mother – child relationship is perfect. We all make mistakes. We all fall short. There are no perfect mothers, so if you have a difficult relationship with your mother or feel like you’re messing up your own kids; be encouraged. You’re not alone!

 As Mother’s Day approaches, I’ve asked my readers to share their hearts and answer the question: “Do you dread or look forward to Mother’s Day?” The answers  have confirmed that I’m not alone in my reflections on this day. That it’s possible to love and mourn something simultaneously. Mother’s Day is a day of celebration for many, but also a day of pain, loss, regret, sadness and hurt for some. I’m incredibly grateful for the vulnerability shown by my readers and their willingness to share their stories. I loved the ones of mothers who plan their own Mother’s Day down to every detail (me included) and enjoy every minute of being charge. 

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. It’s no secret that I’m married to a psychiatrist and other than travel blogging and homeschooling my kids, I also manage his private practice. Our lives are incredibly hectic, causing us to be intentional in our boundaries, expectations, self-care and communication. I’m a big proponent of therapy and mental health priorities. My husband and I actually went to marital therapy prior to getting married and it was one of the best things that we’ve done for our relationship. He often tells me that I’m an extremely complicated woman; that there are so many layers to me, sort of like an onion. I’m not sure that any woman wishes to be compared to an onion, but I’m inclined to agree with him. I’m driven, dedicated, hardworking, tough and independent on the outside, but extremely sensitive and a bleeding heart on the inside. I struggle with saying no and tend to over extend myself. As a result, I often find myself drained. I’m trying to do better. It’s why I take a break at noon twice per week and take a taekwondo class,  why I play music and dance around the house often in order to reduce stress and why I’m expressive of my need for help or a moment of silent.  

 If you’re a mother or an adult son or daughter struggling this Mother’s Day, I urge you to get help. You cannot be all things to all people, nor can you give from an empty vessel. Don’t believe the lie that counseling and therapy are not for you, or that being weak or hurt is not an option. Don’t continue to hide behind the façade and smile through the pain. Toxic relationships, the hurt that they cause and years of pent up pain, will leak into other areas of your life. I hate to be a joy kill this Mother’s Day, but I’m honestly tired of the pretenses and falsehood that surrounds us, not only on social media, but also in church pews, sports fields and gatherings with friends. Keep Mother’s Day simple this year. Take the first step on the road of breaking the cycle that keeps you stuck. Break the chains of pain, hurt, trauma, denial, failure, lies and shame and set yourself on the path to be the best daughter and mother that you were created to be. Shame and isolation will keep you thinking that you’re the only one struggling this Mother’s Day. That’s not true. My reader’s feedback and my husband’s clinical experience proves otherwise. You are not alone. Now, what are you going to do about it?

 Your stories and feedback confirm that mothering is complicated.

That being a mother, can be lonely.

That toxic mother – child relationships exist and cause a deep void for many on a holiday meant to celebrate something good.

That motherhood can leave us feeling like we can never measure up.

I’ve carefully read your words and reflected on your private joy, triumphs, failures, hurt and pain, and I see you; you matter, your story has a purpose. I pray that all children and mothers who read these words, are inspired to love someone well. Even if it’s not your own mother, wife, daughter or friend, please pause and consider how you can bring a smile to someone’s day on Mother’s Day.

 If you’re overjoyed on Mother’s Day – I celebrate with the readers who shared that they look forward to Mother’s Day each year. Several shared pictures of their children taken throughout the years on Mother’s Day, as they reflect on the passing of time and the beautiful memories made. I’m there with you. Mother’s Day is probably the one day when I’m actually in the pictures with my family. My husband makes a point to have me get in the pictures on this day, rather than always being behind the camera. I’m a paparazzi mami, I love documenting the chaos of raising four young children without a village. I’ve lived the last 14 years in a perpetual state of exhaustion, yet I treasure each picture from Mother’s Days gone by. If you’re a tired, overworked, bags under your eyes mother who’s holding back tears at how quickly time flies when you’re in the midst of hands-on parenting, I see you and you matter. You are good enough.

If you dread Mother’s Day – Several readers responded that they dreaded Mother’s Day or at least have at certain stages in their life. The reasons behind this dread varied and I will expand further on them later, but a common thread was family hurt, dreams lost and a history of trauma. I urge you to read this blog post by Negra Bohemian on the importance of giving yourself permission to be weak. There is such power in weakness and vulnerability. 

We live in a society that places value in perceived perfection and strength, to the point where people are faking just about everything. I’m so grateful for your willingness to be transparent and vulnerable. You’re not alone. I urge you to keep reading and be encouraged.

If you’re mourning on Mother’s Day – Mourning shows up in many different ways on Mother’s Day. It causes us to pause, take a deep breath and acknowledge that pain in our gut, as the memories surface. It shows up in the form of the husband unable to celebrate motherhood fully with his wife, due to the void left by the loss of his own mother. It’s in the pain felt by the mother unable to fully smile, as she clenches her teeth while reading her Mother’s Day cards and feeling the pain of missing her own mother or also the pain of remembering a lost child. If you’re mourning on Mother’s Day, give yourself permission to weep and cry. Mother’s Day doesn’t have to equal a “Stepford Wives” fake joy. It’s okay to not be okay. Mourning shows up in the form of the woman struggling with infertility who tries to avoid public spaces on Mother’s Day. I see you and you matter. It shows up in the one who’s dealing with the loss of a child on Mother’s Day. I see you and you matter. It’s in the young widow helping her own children attempt to make her breakfast while being reminded of all the lost dreams. I see you and you matter.

If you’re struggling and wish that you could skip Mother’s Day – When my husband was a resident, I dreaded going to church on Mother’s Day. I consider myself an independent woman, yet I experienced a sense of dread when I entered a public space alone on Mother’s Day. I’ve had to do it on many occasions due to my husband’s work schedule and living in a town without family. I’ve celebrated Mother’s Day alone while pregnant, with a baby and with several kids and it doesn’t get easier. What does that say about our culture, that women would rather stay home in their yoga pants alone on Mother’s Day rather then enter a place of worship?

Last Fall, I wrote a blog post: Life Lessons on my 40th Birthday. One of the lessons that I wrote about was: Don’t left fear be the emotion that takes precedence in your life. As I reflected on my emotional response to other’s perceived judgement of me, I recognized that it came from a place of fear. I no longer care what other people think and that’s the biggest gift that I can give myself on Mother’s Day and beyond.

If you’re struggling with fear and anxiety this Mother’s Day – I see you and you matter.

If you’re a single mother who’s tired on Mother’s Day – I see you and you matter.

If you’re a mother who hasn’t slept through the night in years – I see you and you matter.

If you’re an adult child struggling with how to honor your mother while balancing appropriate boundaries – I see you and you matter.

If you’re a mother who feels likes you’re not good enough or that you’re failing your kids – I see you and you matter.  

If you’re the mother of an ill child who’s not meeting milestones with their peers – you’re the real-life superheroes and I see you. You Matter. In fact, I celebrate each milestone with you, regardless of when they come.

If you’re the mother of a wayward teen, who’s a joy kill and sucking the life out of you – I see you and you matter.

If you’re the mother of adult children who don’t call nor visit – I see you and you matter. I urge you to use that love to bless one of the aforementioned mothers who are also struggling this Mother’s Day.

 Guess what? Mother’s Day is just another day. There I said it. It’s time for us to learn to manage expectations and stop seeking affirmation and validation exclusively from external sources. Don’t allow the tendency of turning your kids into an idol, rob you of joy this Mother’s Day. Your worth is not determined by how well dressed, well behaved or perfect your kids are. I urge you to choose to see the good and seek out the moments that bring you joy. For me, it’s going back to my dreams deferred and getting away from the grind of daily life. We started off doing day trips on Mother’s Day because my husband was a resident and often on call and thus attached to a pager. I hated that thing! I was tired of Mother’s Days spent at the hospital cafeteria and going to church alone with young children. My own mother lives in another state and holidays in general were always kind of lonely for me, in those early days of our marriage. I decided one Mother’s Day when my husband wasn’t on call, that all I wanted was a day with no cell phones, pagers nor distractions and the only way to get that was to travel somewhere with limited cell phone service. We ended up on a picnic on a beach in Newport, RI and that has become our family tradition. I have no expectations of gifts, perfectly cooked meals, nor the ability to sit through a brunch and actually eat my food while it’s still hot. It’s so freeing to choose to simplify this day and rather than focusing on failures, focus on my blessings. I call this intentional living. Every day I make a choice to choose joy. It’s not easy, but I urge you to look in the mirror and hold yourself accountable for your own actions. Extend yourself grace and get up every day with the intent to live your best life, today.

Click here to read an additional blog post on Intentional Parenting that I wrote last Mother’s Day!

Excerpt: 

Finding joy in this process of raising little humans, while simultaneously balancing marriage, work, travel and homeschooling can feel daunting at times. As a work from home and homeschooling mother of four active children, I constantly hear “you’ve got your hands full” while attempting to go about our daily existence. Recognizing that our life choices are outside the norm of adult life in the United States, I tend to smile, nod and keep it moving. Making a conscious decision to live intentionally requires not engaging in frivolous conversations, nor validating our family’s choices with complete strangers.

No, I’m not more patient than you, I’m not super woman and I actually wear makeup to hide the bags under my eyes from the 13 years of sleep deprivation. I’m simply a woman getting up daily “grateful for a new day with no mistakes in it, yet.” This Mother’s Day, let me challenge you to live an intentional, grace filled life and provide you some suggestions on how to go about doing so. Click here for more...

About Ruth: I’m a wife and mami of 4 active and globe-trotting kiddos. I’ve always loved a good adventure and truly believe that it’s possible to travel with kids. Join me, as I share our adventures and inspire you to get out of the house with your kiddos. Whether you’re planning a family vacation, a road trip or a trip of a lifetime to an exotic destination, I’ll share insights, trip reports and information that will inspire you. Check back often to stay up to date on things to do with kids at your next travel destination.

#mothersday #intentionalliving #intentionalparenting #findingjoy #familylife #family #adventure #dreams #mothersdayhurt #mentalhealth #therapy #breakthecycl #dealingwithhurt #loss #pain #hope #love #bloggervibes #parenting

[joaquinwhorres]

Just for Christmas Eve (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Summary: After being put in a tight corner by your family, you find yourself lying about your current relationship status, assuring them that your boyfriend will be making an appearance at the annual Christmas Eve party. After a panicked search for a last minute fake-boyfriend, you have to rely on your younger brother's cute new friend to help you out of your tight spot.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Word Count: 4,716

Author’s Note: Wow. I started out just wanting to write something fun and silly and holiday-y, but then I found myself just writing and writing and writing. I hope you love this somewhat cliche but definitely cute story.

Warnings: None!

"So, Y/N," your aunt started. You held your breath, and you already knew where this was going. It was the same every year. The Friday before Christmas, your grandmother and your mom's sisters and their daughters would roll in for the Annual Christmas Cookie Baking Day. When you were younger, you had loved every part of it. Eight women, all bustling around the kitchen, doing different jobs for different cookies. As the second youngest (and you being who you were) you had always been in charge of the thumbprint cookies because it was something you couldn't mess up and therefore couldn’t freak out over. Plus, it kept you out of the older girls’ hair. Now that you were older, you had graduated to being the official cookie finisher, charged with decorating any and all cooled cookies. And while each year you were allowed to help more and more, every year, your family pestered you more and more about what you were doing in life. More specifically, your love life. "Any new boys we should know about?" your Aunt Veronica raised her eyebrows, her hands busy mixing the chocolate chip cookie dough.

Of course there weren't. You had been busy busting your ass day in and day out, working to get a full ride to college. But sure, ask about the least successful aspect of your life.

You opened your mouth to say as much, when your cousin snorted. She, like you, was decorating gingerbread men. "You know she doesn't. Y/N doesn't have time for relationships," she teased.

"No, no," your Aunt Patricia's daughter, Sarah jumped in. "That was two years ago, Rebecca. Y/N doesn't have a boyfriend because she's just focusing on herself. Being independent." The two girls laughed, and you rolled your eyes dramatically.

Aunt Patricia wrapped a sympathetic arm around your shoulder. "You just haven't met the right person yet," she soothed. "You will." She kissed the side of your head and moved across the kitchen to start the next batch of sugar cookies.

To some extent, you understood your family's preoccupation with your relationship status. Your mother had cracked slightly after your father died, and it was the main reason that the Annual Christmas Cookie Baking Day had been founded. It was also the reason why the rest of your extended family trooped over to your little house to have a Christmas Eve party every year. Your aunts just didn't want you to end up lonely like her. They didn't have a lot of faith in Dustin keeping you company for the rest of your life.

So, every year, your family checked in to see if you were still single.

And every year, when you confirmed that you were, they gave you a hard time about it and inevitably ended up giving you a list of eligible men from their various parts of Indiana. Once, your aunt had even dragged along a neighbor boy to the Christmas Eve party and forced you two to spend time together.

It had been uncomfortable as hell.

"You know," Aunt Veronica began. "Jerry's single now. He's smart like you, and very cute."

"My ex-boyfriend, Jerry?" your cousin, Rachel asked her mother with wide eyes. Of course they would try to set you up with your younger cousin's ex-boyfriend. Of course.

"Oh come on, Rach, you weren't that into him," her sister rolled her eyes. "But he's not Y/N's type. David Malkins, though, I should give him your number," she pointed at you. "Or Kyle. His brother. What do you like? Dark or light brown hair?"

"What about Eric Robins, you know the boy who–"

"I have a boyfriend!" you burst out, suddenly. They all turned to face you, looking almost surprised that you were there.

"Really?" Rebecca asked, stopping in the middle of icing a smile on the gingerbread man’s face.

"Yeah. He's coming to the Christmas party. It was supposed to be a surprise," you flushed. They all looked at each other as if they were silently deciding who would call you out on your bullshit. Finally, Sarah turned to look at you.

"I can't wait to meet him."

"I can't believe you told them you had a boyfriend," your brother shook his head at you.

After all of the women had left your house, he'd heard you slam your door and had come to your room to check on you. He was sweet that way when no one was around. It had only taken him a few minutes of pestering you about why you were trying to smother yourself with your pillow before you broke down and told him exactly what had gone down. And Dustin was being very Dustin about the whole situation.

"I panicked!"

He chuckled. "Yeah, you did."

You picked up a throw pillow and threw it at his head. He dodged it easily, still giggling.

You threw yourself back down onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. You had two and a half days to find a boyfriend. No big deal. It wasn't as if you hadn't been able to find one at all in the past 18 years of your life or anything. Nah, this would be easy. You totally weren't freaking out about it.

You were in such deep shit.

"What am I going to do? I can't tell them he's suddenly sick or staying with his family. Mom was there too. It's a miracle she didn't say anything."

"She probably just doesn't want any more of Aunt Patricia's weird neighbors in her house," your brother shrugged.

You just groaned in response, wishing your house would swallow you up and spit you out in some alternate dimension where you wouldn't have to deal with this.

"I'll help you. It'll be like a shared quest," Dustin offered. You turned your head against the pillow, checking to see if he was messing with you.

"Are you serious?"

"Of course!" he exclaimed. "I also don't want any more weird neighbor boys in our house," he grinned cheekily. You picked up another pillow and threw it at him.

Heavy knocks came from the door which meant it could only be one person. "DUSTIN! HE'S HERE!" you yelled from the living room, moving to answer the front door.

"OK!" Dustin called back down. You pulled the front door open to find Steve Harrington on your doorstep, waiting patiently for someone–usually you–to let him in. You had told him on several occasions that he didn't have to knock anymore and could just come in; he didn't have to wait outside. Besides, he was here often enough that he might as well have a key at this point. You weren't entirely sure what had happened that led to him and Dustin becoming so close, but after you and your mom had returned from your search for Mews, the two boys were constantly hanging out together. It was cute, and after you'd gotten over the strangeness of Steve Harrington being your brother's male role model, you decided it was probably the best thing to ever happen to Dustin.

"Hey, Y/N," Steve greeted as you stepped aside, letting him in the house.

"Hi, Steve. Dustin's on his way down." You closed the door behind him, following Steve further into your house. He sank down on your couch, used to having to wait for Dustin. If your brother wasn't pal-ing around with Steve or playing games in Mike Wheeler's basement, he was talking with his friends on his walkie-talkie and it took him around five minutes to get out of any hushed conversation he was having. During these five minutes, you and Steve would catch up, chat, and wait in non-awkward silence.

"So, what are you two doing today?" you asked, returning back to your seat and pulling your homework towards you. Yes, you were that student.

"He wants me to help him 'train' on Dragon's Lair," Steve shrugged, and you laughed.

"He still hasn't beat Lucas?"

"He did. And then Lucas beat him. And now he's going back to reclaim the title or whatever."

"It's going to be a long day then," you smiled, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear as you looked back up at Steve.

"You want to come?" Steve asked, and you froze. He was staring down at you as if it was a normal thing for him to invite you out on one of his and Dustin's father/son dates. It wasn't. Sure, you would join in on their movie nights at home or the occasional board game, but you never left the house to hang out with them. Even though Steve was your age, he was Dustin's friend, and you respected that boundary.

You realized that you had paused for just a little too long. "I would, but I should really finish up my essay for Lynch, and I still have to wrap the last of my presents. Our family is having our annual Christmas Eve party on Monday and I–"

"Steve!" Dustin called out as he entered the room, and the way he said the name made you whip your head to look at him. Your suspicions were confirmed by the way his eyes were lit up. This was going to be trouble.

"Dustin," Steve repeated back slowly, cautiously. He must have learned Dustin's "trouble signals" as well.

"You can be Y/N's boyfriend!" Dustin exclaimed. Your face grew hot, and you just knew you were bright red. Steve seemed rendered effectively speechless, leaving you alone to get him out of this.

"Dustin, no," you shook your head vigorously.

"Why? It's perfect! He's over here all the time, so mom knows who he is, and you guys are in the same grade, plus, it's Steve!" Dustin explained. You floundered, opening and closing your mouth to try to come up with a good argument as to why this was not the perfect solution.

"Um, what?" Steve asked, calling both of your attentions to him. He looked a bit of a mess–flustered, embarrassed, and absolutely confused.

"Nothing," you assured, turning to Dustin. "Nothing." You repeated. As much as your brother might have had a point, you couldn't get Steve to be your fake boyfriend. He was Steve Harrington. And you were Y/N Henderson. He was popular. And good looking. And athletic. And kind. And an excellent friend to your brother. You were the student who actually did their homework over Christmas break without being forced to by your mom.

"Y/N told our cousins that she had a boyfriend and he was coming to the Christmas Eve party because they were being super shitty–"

"Language!" you interrupted, but he kept going.

"about her not having a boyfriend. But she doesn't actually have anyone who will come, and she needs your help," Dustin explained. He was practically stumbling over his words in his excitement to explain.

"Way to make me sound super desperate, Dustin," you mumbled. You wished you could just run to your room and avoid the inevitable rejection and awkwardness that was to follow.

"So, you need a date?" Your heart stopped. He wasn't seriously considering this was he?

"Uh, yeah," you admitted with a sigh, finally getting the courage to look over at him. He was looking right at you, one eyebrow raised and his lips were turned up in what was almost a smile.

"What time's the party?"

"8:00," Dustin chirped, despite the fact that you and Steve had not broken eye contact and the question was clearly directed at you.

"7:00," you corrected. "It's always 7:00."

"I'll be there," Steve nodded. "If that's cool with you."

"Yeah…yeah. You can be my fake boyfriend. For Christmas Eve," you clarified.

The three of you sat in silence for a minute. Dustin standing between you and Steve, smiling from ear to ear. You still looking at Steve, slightly red. And Steve looking right back at you, still with that almost smile.

"You ready, man?" Steve finally asked, turning to Dustin.

"Yeah, I think I've finally figured out how to kick Lucas' ass!" Dustin cheered.

"Language," you corrected again, and the boys just chuckled and left you alone to freak out over your homework. You had a fake date with Steve Harrington. This couldn't possibly go wrong.

"So, where's your boyfriend?" Rebecca asked, cocking her head slightly as the two of you stood by the egg nog, pouring yourselves glasses.

"He's…coming," you answered, less than convincingly. Your stomach had been in knots all day, but it had gotten even worse when the party started. Steve still hadn't shown up. Which meant you didn't get to review the details of your fake relationship, and you'd spent the last hour getting looks from almost every woman in your extended family. It was surprising that they made it a full hour without questioning your "boyfriend's" noticeable absence.

"Hmmm," your cousin hummed, letting you dig yourself further into your own grave. You gave a tight smile before turning away and drinking your eggnog as fast as possible.

Where was he?

As if on cue, heavy knocks came from the door, and you practically flew across the house to open it.

"Hey." Steve caught your frenzied, panicked look and tilted his head to the side. "Are you ok?"

"Who is it?" Your aunt called, her sing-songy voice hinting that she had a guess.

"Steve!" Dustin called out walking over to the door, as you stood aside to let Steve enter. You'd freak out later.

"Hi, Dustin," Steve said, before freezing and looking around the room as your entire family stopped what they were doing to stare at him. "And everyone."

You closed the door, hoping your heart would calm down. If anything your anxiety skyrocketed when you saw him on your front porch giving you that same half smile he always gave you. You were sure your hands were shaking. You couldn't handle this. "Uh, this is Steve," you introduced, your voice completely betraying you and giving way to all of your nervousness. You hoped that your family wrote it off as you being afraid to show off your new boyfriend to your family for the first time. You doubted it, but you could hope.

"Hi, Steve," Aunt Veronica welcomed, stepping forward and bringing him into a hug. "It's so nice to finally meet you," she smiled.

"It's nice to meet you too," Steve said.

"Do you want to put your coat in the coat room?" you asked, your words almost running together. Steve looked at you, concern crossing his face again.

"Yeah, sure," Steve nodded, following you to your mother's room. He took off his coat and laid it on top of the pile already overtaking the bed. You stood there, tapping your fingers against your leg, looking at him. He was dressed in a dark red sweater and dark jeans, and he looked good. Your were going to have a heart attack. You were going to have a heart attack and die young. "Are you ok?" Steve repeated his question from earlier.

"You're late!" You exclaimed in a hushed voice.

"By like, 5 minutes," Steve said, defensively.

"5 mintues?" you hissed. "You're an hour late, Steve."

"8:00. Dustin said 8:00." Even as he said this, Steve's face began to fall.

"Dustin's an idiot. I told you it was at 7:00." Your nerves were still high strung, but at least Steve hadn’t forgotten about you or worse–was blowing you off.

"I'm sorry," Steve said, calmly. "But, I'm here now. It's ok."

"It's not ok! This was a terrible idea."

Steve stared at you for a second, watching as your fingers continued to fidget by your side. His eyes roved up to yours, which were wide and looking desperately at him.

"Is this–is this the first time you've ever brought a boy home?" Steve guessed.

You let out an exasperated sound and sunk to the bed, covering your face with your hands.

"Hey, hey, hey," Steve soothed, sitting down next to you, so close his leg was touching yours. "It's ok. It makes things easier. Explains why you're freaking out so much." He bumped your shoulder with his.

"They're going to know," you moaned into your hands.

"No way. I'm a pro at lying to parents." You dropped your hands to stare at him. He smiled sheepishly. "Come on, it's fun! It's like a game."

You looked down at the floor and nodded. "Ok. Ok. I can do this."

"You can do this because I'm in it with you," Steve said, standing up from the bed and holding his hand out to you. "So let's go back out there, and be the best fake couple ever."

You looked up at Steve. He seemed so confident. Like nothing could go wrong. You wanted to believe that.

You took his hand and allowed him to pull you up off of the bed. You half expected him to let go once you were up, but instead he adjusted his hand, lacing his fingers with yours. Steve shot you a smile before pulling you out of the room and back to your family.

Your family played it cool as the two of you entered, only Sarah and Rebecca staring at the two of you. And Dustin, who shot you a smile and gave a thumbs up. You rolled your eyes and looked up at Steve who was grinning at everyone around the room. You could do this. As long as Steve was here, you could do this.

Somehow, the two of you had managed to make it around the room and survived introductions with everyone. Steve had bonded with Roy, Andrew, and John over basketball, discussed his post-high school plans with your other uncles, and charmed the heck out of your aunts, which left only the cousins who were conveniently standing around with your mom. The hardest test.

"So, how'd you two meet?" Rebecca asked, tilting her head innocently. You knew better.

"Through Dustin, actually," you answered, and Steve squeezed your hand, reassuringly.

"Dustin?" Rachel repeated, her eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, I babysat him while Y/N and Mrs. Henderson were looking for Mews," Steve explained. Your mother's face faltered, and Steve noticed. "Sorry about, Mews, by the way."

She waved him off. "Everything happens for a reason. We got you out of it. And Tews-y."

"The two of us just clicked, so I started coming over, and then after I met Y/N, I started coming over more. We would always have these short conversations whenever I walked in. They were never really about anything, but she was just so easy to talk to and so kind, and, you know, beautiful. So, one day, I invited her to come to the arcade with me and Dustin, and after she destroyed me at Donkey Kong, I asked her out on a real date. And the rest is history."

You looked up at Steve, slightly dazed. The arcade invite. He hadn't—He couldn't—Your brain worked double time trying to make sense of Steve's story. He smiled down at you and squeezed your hand again. And your thoughts flashed back to the coat room. I'm a pro at lying to parents. Your heart sunk slightly, which didn't make any sense. Because this was just fake. Just a fake relationship to get your family off your back.

"Cute," Rebecca smiled, and she was genuine this time.

"You know, I always wondered why you came over so much," your mother wagged her finger at Steve. "I should have known it was Y/N."

"Mom," you groaned, leaning your forehead onto Steve's arm to hide your face. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head.

Your heart stopped, and it took everything in you to not snap your head up and look at him. You were sure your face would be too flushed. It would be too obvious that he had never done anything like that before.

"Hey Steve!" Dustin called, and Steve turned to face your brother. "Come check out this thing Brian showed me."

"Yeah, sure," Steve said, giving your hand one last squeeze before releasing it and following your brother off.

"Ok, he's adorable," Rachel pronounced, and you looked up at her, your face slightly cooled.

"Yeah, he's pretty great," you smiled.

"I guess your pickiness paid off," Rebecca said. 

You decided to ignore the backhanded compliment and instead look over at Steve who was huddled together with Dustin and Brian.  "Yeah, I guess it did."

The rest of the evening was easy after that. You let Steve handle most of the questions since was so good at it. How long had you been dating? A little under a month. When did he realize he was into you? When he saw you tackle Dustin into the ground and hit him over the head with a slap bracelet that he had unexpectedly slapped you with. (True story). Did he know about your fear of clowns? Yes. Have you gotten into a fight yet? Yes, because you were freaking out over nothing and Steve made the mistake of telling you that. Your family had all gotten a laugh out of that one, and you had smacked Steve a little harder than maybe you should have.

During the traditional exchanging of your special "Christmas Eve presents", you had been surprised when Steve bought you the Footloose album, recounting the time that he had once walked into you singing and dancing around the kitchen to "Let's Hear it for the Boy." After being forced into a reenactment by your cousins that had the rest of your family roaring with laughter, you had managed to pull him back down into the couch next to you. Whispering a gentle thank you which caused Steve to smile down at you, his eyes briefly falling from yours to stare at your lips before meeting your eyes again. You flushed and turned back to presents. 

When it came time for you to give Steve your gift, you bit the inside of your cheeks to keep from smiling too hard. You had hounded Dustin about it, and eventually he'd broken down and given you an idea you couldn't refuse.

Steve ripped open the package and his face fell in shock as he looked into the box.

"What is it?" Sarah asked, attempting to crane her neck to see inside. Steve closed the box lid.

"Nothing."

This understandably raised eyebrows from all of the adults, as their gaze shifted from Steve to you. Catching their meaning, you reached over, to the present. "Come on, show them," you prodded, attempting to grab it. Steve held it away from you.

"No," he protested. Dustin, who was sitting next to Steve, snatched it from the older boy’s grasp taking the packaging off quickly, as you held onto Steve's hands to keep him from taking it back.

Your brother immediately burst out laughing as he held up the Farrah Fawcett Hairspray. The rest of your family attempted to hide their snickers before finally Brian lost it as well, and everyone else, deciding it was ok, followed. Steve snatched it back from Dustin and put it in the box.

"I know you feel uncomfortable buying it, and you were running low," you teased, reaching up a hand to gently play with Steve's hair.

"Thanks," he said flatly, and you smiled.

"You don't like it?" you asked, innocently, feeling for the first time that you were able to relax. This was the relationship you were used to with Steve. Gentle teasing and easy laughter.

"I love it," he said, relenting a little bit. "Especially in front of your family whom I'm meeting for the first time.” Your family immediately jumped in to ease his worries, and you just kept smiling as he side-eyed Dustin. Your brother was going to pay for that one.

After presents, it was time for hot cocoa and the Christmas movie.

You got up to help with the passing out of the cocoa and cookies, but were waved off by your aunts and cousins, told to stay on the couch, huddled together with Steve and Dustin as they managed the rest. The rest of your family was too busy arguing over the Christmas movie to pay attention to your conversation.

"I think we're in the clear," you whispered to Steve and Dustin. "All we have to do is make it through the movie."

"You've been great," Steve nudged you with his shoulder.

"Yeah, you totally weren't freaking out as much as I thought you would," Dustin added, and you glared at him. He smiled, and you mimicked laughter.

"Look what we found," Sarah sing-songed, and you turned to look at her and what was dangling from her outstretched hand. Mistletoe. And that's why they'd been so cool. Because they knew you'd snap the minute you saw it.

"Oh, no," you protested, seeing her walk straight for you and Steve.

"Eww, gross," Dustin chorused. "Don't make them kiss in front of me." You weren't sure if you loved your brother in this moment or if you were slightly annoyed by him.

"Grow up, Dustin," your cousin scoffed, leaning over and hanging the mistletoe over you and Steve. This was a set up, plain and simple. They were calling you out. Were you really going to have your first kiss with a fake boyfriend in front of your family or would you break and tell them it was all a hoax? The eyes of all the women were on you, expectantly.

You looked up at Steve, searching for a cue, and he raised an eyebrow. He lifted his hand, brushing your hair behind your ear before gently cupping your neck, his thumb resting lightly on your cheek. Your felt like you were going to throw up. Steve was going to kiss you. And if he kissed you, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself. The crush that you'd kept so carefully under wraps for the past two months would come out, and you'd kiss him back. Steve leaned in, slowly, giving you plenty of time to call this off, but you couldn't. You were in too deep. You closed your eyes and tried to calm your heart to keep it from beating out of your chest. His lips gently brushed against yours, and wow. 

On the one hand, you still felt odd–you were kissing your brother's friend, your friend. But on the other hand, wow. His kiss was as gentle as his touch, and sweet like the Christmas cookies. You pressed your lips more firmly into his.

"Ugh!" Dustin let out a disgusted noise and moved from the couch. You pulled back, looking a Steve who stroked your hair back behind your ear (even though it was already there) and smiled. You smiled back before turning to your cousin.

"Good enough?" You asked, and you could have laughed at how shocked she looked.

"That's enough," your Uncle Roy decided. "No more kissing."

"Yes, sir," Steve nodded, and your family laughed, resuming their activities. You and Steve accepted your mugs of cocoa from your mom, and picked a few cookies off of the tray your aunt held out. Well, you picked up a few. Steve picked up like seven thumbprint cookies. "They're my favorite," he explained, catching your questioning glance.

"Of course they are, Y/N makes them," your aunt smiled before turning the tray to someone else. Steve inclined his head towards you before taking a bite.

"Delicious," he said.

"Thank you."

The two of you placed your mugs on the coffee table, turning to the movie as the rest of your family quieted down to watch the opening scenes.

Steve leaned over to you, whispering in your ear. "Was that ok?"

The butterflies in your stomach took flight again as you turned to look up at him again. "The kiss?"

He nodded.

"Yeah," you nodded back. "Yeah, I think it really sold them. You were right, you're a great fake boyfriend." Something about the words leaving your mouth hurt. You couldn't say exactly what it was, but Steve seemed to pick up on it as his brow slightly creased and he nodded.

"You know," he started, taking a breath in. "I'm an even better real one."

You stopped breathing.

"What?"

"Shhh," your cousin shushed. "The movie!" he gestured to the screen. You flushed and then turned back to Steve. He was looking nervously down at you, his question still on his face.

"Let me take you out on a real date," Steve whispered even lower.

You smiled up at him, suddenly feeling incredibly shy. "Can I destroy you at Donkey Kong?"

"Anytime you want," Steve shook his head, and he was smiling too as he leaned his head down towards yours again.

"No more kissing!" Dustin hissed from his seat on the floor. Steve looked over at your brother and shot him a grin.

"You brought this on yourself, kid."

But he didn't kiss you. Instead he pulled back and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him and keeping you there for the remainder of the night.

Tags: @oomylifeiseternalsufferingoo @katethemandrake @coolyoungbouquetdestinylove @stay-wokke @morgandakotaq @panda0192 @dontneedbiologytoadopt 

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things 2 #steve harrington fanfic

[steve-harringtonnn]

Mad World - Part Two

Part two of a Steve Harrington mini-series written with @actuallynancy and myself.

Read part one right here.

Summary: All you want is to fix your relationship with your brother, Dustin. Your parents’ divorce has kept you two apart for nearly five years. An impromptu trip to Hawkins guarantees more than you bargained for.

Paring: steve harrington X henderson!reader { female }

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: none

You and your mother talk for what seemed like years, just catching up and telling her all about the life you had back home. You watched as she got a little teary eyed when she realized that she missed quite a lot, but you shrugged off the simple thought. You told her that she was still apart of your life because she had plenty more years to see through. You’d stayed up until midnight, then your mother ordered you to go to bed. You laughed at her orders but took them in. She walked you to the spare bedroom, the room that would be yours for however long you chose to stay. The room was small and the walls were a pale yellow, it was simple and you liked it.

After changing into your pajamas, you sat on the edge of the bed and stared at your door. You just wanted to talk to Dustin but knew it wasn’t a good time. Not only was it past midnight but you also wanted to give him at least a day to process that you were actually here. Sighing, you crawled under your covers and closed your eyes, attempting to fall asleep.

You were asleep pretty quickly and you figured it was from the long drive. You were even able to sleep through the night without tossing and turning. Checking your phone for the time, you saw that it was a little after seven thirty. A moment later your mom knocked on the door before coming inside. “Hi sweetie. I’m heading off to work but I wanted to let you know I was leaving. I’ll be home a little early for the Trick or Treaters. You have to come see Dusty’s costume before he leaves for school!” She exclaimed.

Your mom was way too awake for it being this early but you smiled and told her you’d be right out. She closed the door and you took a moment to rub your eyes before swinging your legs over the bed and walking into the living room. You saw Dustin in a Ghostbusters outfit and you had to admit, you were pretty impressed with how it turned out. Your mom had a camera in her hand and she was snapping pictures of Dustin left and right.

“Hey Dustin, how about I give you a ride to school?” You asked your brother. He frowned for a moment. “I ride my bike to school with my friends.” You had hoped he would have cooled off some overnight but it was obvious that wasn’t the case. You felt a soft sigh leave your lips as you watched your brother completely turn away from you. You wanted to tell him, and tell him now, but you knew you needed to wait. You wanted to be able to sit him down and explain.

Your mom took a few more pictures before Dustin got his backpack and went outside to head to school. Everyone rushed around and the next thing you knew, you were alone in the house. You considered showering, getting dressed and doing something productive with your day, but you decided against it. What were you going to do while everyone was gone?

Then you spotted something on the counter and sighed. Dustin forgot his lunch and you were positive your mother hadn’t given him money. Forgoing the shower for the time being, you went into your room and quickly got dressed. With your luck, Dustin would probably be embarrassed that you showed up at his school to bring him his lunch but he’d get over it.

So you found your keys that you had strewn across the dresser in the spare room and walked out to your car. You hopped in the driver’s seat, putting Dustin’s lunch in the passenger seat and pulled out of the driveway. The drive to the middle school wasn’t a long one, but you had a little trouble remembering which direction. You let a huff pass through your lips before you headed off down the street. The street signs looked familiar to you, and the houses you drove past were triggering your memories of driving down this same road every morning.

When the middle school came into view you breathed out. You turned into the carpark and parked close to the front before hopping out the car, taking the brown paper bag in your hand. You didn’t take many steps before you heard a voice calling out to you. You were confused. You didn’t think anyone would be out here, not at this time. Turning your head slightly you see a smug looking guy leaning against a dark Camaro. He had a jean jacket across his chest and a dark maroon shirt poking through. He held a lit cigarette between his lips, his brow raised in your direction. He had a mullet of curls that cascaded down to his shoulder, they were a dirty blonde colour. You tried your hardest to think back, to see if you remembered who this guy was, but you came up empty handed. He was a stranger to you.

“That your car?” He asked, his voice was deep and coated in a thick accent that you couldn’t pinpoint. He raised a hand to point at your car. You nodded your head before gesturing to his own car, it was a dark blue Camaro, just like your own. “Nice car,” you said blankly. You didn’t have much interest in talking to this guy. You just wanted to bring Dustin his lunch and go back home. Maybe you’d go back to sleep.

You faced forward once more and began walking towards the school. You could hear the sound of heavy footsteps behind you, the sound of combat boots slapping against the concrete harshly. You didn’t have to turn around to know who was following you. Soon his heavy thuds became slower, his long legs working rather easily to fall in step with you. You assumed it was the guy who had asked about your car and a quick glance confirmed your suspicion. “You new? I definitely would have noticed you since I got here.” You could hear the arrogance in his voice.

“Uhm. No. I don’t go here,” you replied in a bored tone. Ignoring him would have been your first thought but you had a feeling that this one wouldn’t just give up. “Well I’m sure we could have quite a good time together.” When those words seemed to leave his lips you couldn’t help the scoff that escaped your own. You stopped walking entirely and turned your head to look at him. He had a smug looking smirk on his lips, thinking he had won you over. You raised a single brow at him before opening your mouth “Okay, Fabio. I have no interest in going out with you nor will I ever. You’re not my type.” You retorted, giving him the very same smug smirk. You started walking again but he was quick to catch up, grabbing your wrist. “I’m everybody’s type.” His confident demeanor was still there but you saw a hint of danger in his eyes.

You were quick to grab your wrist back and you sent a glare his way. “I’m not sure what you’re used to. Probably having all of the girls fawning over you and your car, but let me assure you that I have no interest. So leave me alone and go waste your time on some other girl.” You stormed off at a much quicker pace, determined not to let him catch up to you this time. You could practically feel steam pouring out of your ears as you stomped away. What kind of jerk talks to a woman like that?

You tried to smother your ever growing anger for the stranger as you pushed the front doors of the school wide open. Lips pulled into a thin line as you walked with hurried steps to find the front office. It didn’t take long for you to find it, the memories of the school quickly coming back to you. You still couldn’t believe it had been five years since you had last stepped foot inside of the school. You were quick to give front office Dustin’s lunch and return to your car. You were thankful that you didn’t run into that guy again, not knowing what you would have done if you were faced with him.

The rest of your day went by without incident. You didn’t do much beside clean up around the house a little bit. You wanted to help your mom while you were there and you figured it was the least you could do since you weren’t at school or working. Sure, you had schoolwork to catch up on but you had no desire to do that today. This whole trip was only possible because you were taking all online classes or independent studies.

The sound of the door opening caught your attention and you looked up from the book you were reading on the couch. You were surprised to see Dustin walk through the door. You thought he was going to his friends house after school until trick or treating started. “Hey Dustin. Did you forget something?” You asked, closing your book and putting your bookmark in.

“Yeah, I can’t talk right now. I have to grab something and then I’m leaving again.” He was quick to dismiss you, disappearing into his room.

You sighed and followed him down the hall and into his room. “Dustin, we really need to talk.” You folded your arms across your chest and leaned against his doorframe. “Yeah, great. I don’t have time for that now!” He exclaimed, throwing things around his room to find whatever he was looking for.

“No. I need you to make the time. I need to talk to you about why I left with dad. You need to know.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #mad world collab

[cabinboy100]

BABY DRIVER: Take a Ride w/Edgar Wright's Rockin' Wheelman

Thanks to the Brattle Theatre and the Independent Film Festival of Boston, I got to watch BABY DRIVER at an advance screening last week!

It is a gorgeous musical roller coaster ride of a film. Writer and director Edgar Wright supercharges another beloved cinematic icon-slash-genre—the Wheelman or Driver—with his remarkable style, vision, wit, and rhythm. While not *a* musical, per se, BABY DRIVER is very musical, delivering snappy dialogue, sharp looks, slick moves, death-defying driving, and brutal gunplay, all choreographed to a soundtrack beautifully interwoven with the film…

There's not a lot more to say, really, beyond additional superlatives upon superlatives, and I don't want to go into scenes or characters too deeply and give up any of the fun. I think I'll just let one of the trailers do the talking…

Bottom line—GO SEE THIS MOVIE! And see it IN THE THEATER!

[rant] And for Space Pope's sake, do NOT take your phone out for any reason while the movie is running. You just paid $10 to $20 for this amazing experience! We live in an age of wonder that allows you to ignore a movie for free at home. Save the spacebooking, twitting, and txting for later. Or if you're gonna do that, or even look at a message on your annoyingly-bright-in-a-darkened-theater phone, get out of your seat, walk to an exit, behind a barrier, or *maybe* the back wall, out of anyone's view, and then have a look, respond if you must, and get back to the show. If you're waiting on your wife to finish delivering, or the funeral parlor's supposed to call about Pop's arrangements, or you're expecting a call from the doctor with those test results—WTF are you doing at the movies? If your phone lights up and you can see it, believe me, everyone next to and behind you can see it. Keep it in your pocket. If you see someone next to or near you futzing w/a screen, do everyone a favor, be your own (and my) hero, and ask them to put it away or take it outside. [/rant]

Beware, beyond this point, I'm gonna start lobbing spoilers into my rambling. So, exit pursued by a bear now if you haven't seen BABY DRIVER already!

CRITS (oh-so-minor, probably more like backhanded compliments).

I don't feel the heart in this that I do in the Cornetto films. Those films—SHAUN OF THE DEAD, HOT FUZZ, THE WORLD'S END—had relationships at their centers. But I have to say that my not feeling that with BABY DRIVER is very fair and true to the driver genre. You don't get the warm fuzzies thinking about BULLITT, THE BLUES BROTHERS, or THE FRENCH CONNECTION, right? Well, okay, maybe THE BLUES BROTHERS. =)

The characters tend to be flat and archetypal, taking a back seat *sorry-not-sorry* to the action and style. Wright does get me rooting for some of the baddies along the way, because of their professionalism, circumstance, charisma, and, well, moral relativism. And while they may be flat, they own their two dimensions and are memorable, essential, love- and hate-able in their own ways.

Of course, we know who we're rooting for—our Baby on board.

Maybe this isn't fair to BABY DRIVER, but I'd *just* seen Walter Hill's THE DRIVER, right before it, and was so frickin' impressed with its style and tension and story-slash-chase-telling cinematography. I found myself wanting more from the final car-v-car showdown in BABY. I feel like both Wright's BABY DRIVER and Refn's DRIVE put their tightest and tautest chase set piece at the start of their films. They are a-ma-zing intros to each film experience, but greedy me, I want even higher peaks in the middle and the end.

Oh, don't get me wrong—there ARE more peaks, gorgeously choreographed, executed, shot, and edited peaks, throughout. It's been a week now and I still feel my thoughts are vibrating from the experience.

I'm gonna see it again, so maybe I'll revisit this notion of the "starting with dessert" problem, if that's what it is. Maybe it was having THE DRIVER on my palate affecting my perspective…

LOVES.

I love the reason that Baby is always listening to his music. I don't know which movie or story first used music as a way to time and count off the steps to a heist—at the moment I can only think of HUDSON HAWK =) —but I was almost surprised that that seemed to be what was happening with Baby's character in the film's opening chase scene (w/Buddy, Darling, and Griff). It almost seemed too, well, easy…y'know, for Edgar Wright. But it *is* Edgar Wright, so we know he's gonna do something brilliant with it.

Yeah, I know. Sometimes I wish I could watch a movie with my 9-yo brain, and not think so much.

Then we see Baby on his apparently regular walk to Octane coffee, and in a beautiful "Harlem Shuffle" music video starring Baby against the graffiti of Atlanta streets, we learn that music permeates every moment of Baby's life. Man, when Debora walks by outside the shop in front of the rainbow heart—so simply perfect. =)

And I'm pretty sure that when he retraces his steps, "Shake Shake" has been added to a column or wall that had "Right" on the way in.

Later we learn that there's more method to Baby's madness for music. Doc explains that he suffers from tinnitus, and music helps keep the ringing in his ears at bay. Later still, we learn that he has a habit of recording much of what he hears, using the audio as samples in musical creations of his own. I really wish we'd been able to see him create some more of those, and/or hear more from his extensive library.

WRIGHTS.

Some little bits of fun that I feel are somehow Wright-ian, whether intended by the director or not. =)

J.D., of Bats's crew, is given a simple assignment—pick up three HALLOWEEN Michael Myers masks for use in the robbery. What does he show up with? Three Mike Myers (as Austin Powers) Halloween masks. When questioned about his cluelessness, one of the gang tries to clarify—The Bad Guy from HALLOWEEN, the movie! To which he replies—Oh! You mean Jason! And hey—What's Buddy's real name? Jason! As in Jason from FRIDAY THE 13th? As in the guy who keeps getting killed by never dies?

(This exchange inspired me to goof a BABY DRIVER: Halloween the 13th meta-mashup poster = )

And what's Baby's real name? M I L E S of course!

Hrm…Good thing Wright didn't make this movie on the continent somewhere or in Canada or his name would've been Kilometers! *groan*

Bananas! Doc reveals that's the phone call confirmation code word he receives from his contacts after a successful interaction. Darling reacts to the playing of one of Baby's tapes—"Is he slow?"—with B-A-N-A-N-A-S. When the Butcher's Atlanta PD colleagues show up for revenge on Doc, they give him the code word—"Bananas!"—along with some hot lead.

The invisible camera returns! In WORLD'S END, Wright shoots a scene between Simon Pegg and Rosamund Pike in the restroom of a pub with the camera pointed squarely at the mirror on the wall. Sure, it could be digital magic, but I can't help but wonder if Wright has pulled off some practical magic. Just the right lighting combined with a glass plate at the correct complementary angle or something? Well, whatever he did then, he does again in…I want to say at least two shots—maybe three, with reflections in a car exterior?—in BABY DRIVER. My lame brain is now only recalling one, tho, in a pan across the washing machines of a laundromat, a sweet bit of Courtship, American Style.

Yeah, probably some "simple" digital trickery…But maybe only for the last 10% that some Houdini-like stage magic couldn't quite cover? I want to know but don't want to. =)

And speaking of courtship—I kind of adore how Baby sharing his earbuds with Debora physically connects them while they're moving around the laundromat and talking. It turns their conversation into a sweet dance number. A bit of Wright magic.

Becky & Ella? In the elevator down to P1, P2, and P3 after the first job, Buddy promises to take Darling to Bacchanalia, for the best wining and dining around, or something to that effect. When Debora presses Baby for an idea on where they'll go out, he tells her what sounds like "Becky and Ella" for the best wining and dining around. NB: Found out Bacchanalia *is* an actual ATL restaurant, but I don't believe we ever see its name or signage on screen.

I WONDER…

About the "Spirit of 85" or whatever it was called. Doc mentions it to help establish Baby's cred. Apparently Baby tied the Atlanta PD in knots on what sounded like a crazy prolonged chase involving a cloverleaf interchange of highways. I think the word "spaghetti" was used? No doubt native Atlantans will appreciate the description of the feat. Baby's Kessel Run? =)

Oh, man! Who is responsible for Baby's wardrobe? For half if not most of the film, he is strategically yet uncannily decked out in duds that scream "Han Solo" to me. I'm talking A NEW HOPE—black vest over white shirt with dark pants.

(Baby’s taste in clothes—as well as his backstory and talents—inspired this BABY DRIVER: Nerf Herder mashup… =)

After the film, I was told that our Baby, Ansel Elgort, had been on the short list for the young Han Solo film. I honestly had no idea as I did and do my best to block that sort of "news" as much as possible when it comes to films I'm looking forward to.

Was this Wright, Elgort, or another member or members of the crew expressing their support for HANsel? I have no idea how the timelines of young Solo casting and BABY DRIVER shooting line up. But if the decision was made before shooting, maybe Ansel’s turn as Baby becomes a kind of what-could-have-been/what-you-missed strutting? =)

When I heard about the LEGO MOVIE directors being dismissed from the project, I thought that maybe they'd seen BABY DRIVER and realized that Edgar Wright had already made the movie—what's the point now? =)

And in the Hollywood minute before Ron Howard was announced, I wondered if maybe BABY DRIVER might possibly be the perfect proof of capabilities for Wright as the new director. Alas—*sigh*—not to be.

I wonder just what the heck happened with Disney/Marvel/ANT-MAN and Wright.

CINEMA SERENDIPITY…

I love it when my experience of films and shows connect in little unexpected ways…

Last week, I got to see Edgar Wright's amazing action jukebox, BABY DRIVER. The next night, I caught Kumail Nanjani and Emily Gordon's hilarious, heart-warming and -punching rom-coma-com, THE BIG SICK. And tonight, a week later, experienced Bong Joon Ho's OKJA on the big screen before it streams on Netflix.

Yeah, none of that connects on paper, but in my head it's a different story… =)

In THE BIG SICK, Kumail and Emily's non-dating dates reveal his obsession with cricket and appreciation of zombies, which of course would logically add up to a SHAUN OF THE DEAD poster on his bedroom wall. That's some solid math, and reminded me that I've followed some twitter exchanges between them about movies (about ROGUE ONE, Riz Ahmed, representation, and a buddy heist film).

The content of OKJA does not directly connect to anything Wrightian (as far as I could tell on a first viewing), but Bong Joon Ho's previous film, the must-see sci-fi fable SNOWPIERCER, features Jamie Bell as a character named Edgar, apparently named for Wright. That note, plus the fact that Edgar was best buddy of Chris Evans's Curtis, inspired a couple of mashup posters, one of them a meta-mashup starring SCOTT PILGRIM's Lucas Lee.

Yeah, like I said…it's all in my head.

Why do I have a feeling like this will be read back to me in court at a later date?

BABY DRIVER AT AN ADVANCE SCREENING…?

Oh—how did I get to see all these films in the theater? And before their wide release dates? The Brattle Theatre and the Independent Film Festival of Boston are my enablers-slash-suppliers. If you're Boston-local and love moviegoing, I *highly* recommend you check their schedules and membership privileges, join/donate/support either or both, and see some amazing movies!

Allright, enough a-ramblin'. If you made it this far, I'm sorry and thanks much. Now, get thee to the theater and BABY DRIVER up!

Keep on keepin’ on~

#BABY DRIVER #Edgar Wright #movie #ramble #review #THE BIG SICK #OKJA #Brattle Theatre #Independent Film Festival of Boston #Ansel Elgort #Han Solo #Mike Myers #Michael Myers #HALLOWEEN #FRIDAY THE 13TH #Edgar eggs #easter eggs

[eleviadenobelia]

The Over-view: Beginnings are Delicate

I met G in 2010 when he moved back to Sedona from Flagstaff. The first time I met G was when a mutual friend asked me to help him help G move. During the moving in to the house, of a couple in their late sixties, I removed myself to the patio because the woman was engaging in inappropriate sexual flirtation towards G and the mutual friend. G and the friend responded inappropriately and their reaction was part of my reason for removing myself.

Then I saw him around town and two of those occasions were significant. They were both at a mutual friend’s house. They were significant to me, because at the time, the circumstances prompted me to direct G as to what to do and where to go. This was not part of G’s perception at the time as far as I could see. He seemed to be completely immersed inside himself.

[This, in retrospect and unbeknownst to me at the time, was a Blueprint of the nature of the relationship to come.]

At the time of the initial encounters I was not impressed or attracted to him. I thought he was a bit of a blockhead, a dude in other words. But that was simply a superficial impression, not something I gave specific thought to.

Then we were independently invited to an event. It was the Tara Puja (Liberation from Sorrow) blessing, by travelling Tibetan monks. This was significant because to me it was a magical event. The air and mood and energy was different and important. It felt auspicious. And as confirmation I received the blessing Twice. This magic and perception of it is independent of the the specifics of the event. It is something I have encountered and experienced regularly in my life and I pay attention when it happens, or at least try to.

[The nature of the event was again a blueprint in retrospect.]

During the event we just happened to be in each other’s presence, or so I thought then, but in remembering the event for the purpose of writing it down, I realized that G had hitched himself to me, albeit I suspect, unconsciously. [This is because I suspect, I had directed him previously in some of those encounters and he gravitates to older women that direct him. I have seen this throughout our relationship]

During the event he asked me to come with him to go and sit with this couple he knew and their toddler. The couple were not interested in either him or me joining them. This struck me as odd and unusual on their part. We left the couple and G was stressed and a bit discombobulated. He said it was from the sun and he was going to take care of it by finding shade. I in turn said I was going to go and re-connect with my friend who had invited me and who had arranged the event.

Later G joined in the drumming and I danced. It was fun and magical. After the drumming and dancing, G was one of the last to leave and because of this I offered to help him pack up his things into his car. Then, another mutual friend of ours, who had invited G to play drums came to say goodbye. I said to this friend, P, that he looked so much like my very first lover. I perceived G as reacting very strongly to this, and it made me uncomfortable, because there was nothing for him to be uncomfortable about, according to me.

There was a momentary awkwardness between the three of us because of G reaction. P took off and G suggested we go for a hike the following day and we exchanged phone numbers and he asked me to call him. [This was a bit odd at the time, and part of a subsequent pattern of wanting initiation and invitation to come from the other.] My perception at the time was that G was part of a Sedona sub-culture of guys not wanting to open themselves up to rejection and this mechanism of exchanging numbers and asking to be called was part of that.

What was significant to me at the time of this interaction with G and P was that G changed his perspective towards me because of his perceiving that P had a positive perception and attitude and evaluation of me. If I was well-regarded by P, then this now made me so to G as well. He took his cue or perspective largely from P it seemed to me. [I later found out from G that after G had left a relationship with T, she and P hooked up. G said he was upset by this even though he had no cause to be since they had broken up. Later G also expressed that he was jealous of P and that his jealousy of P and others upsets him.]

The next day, a Sunday, I called G and we arranged to go hiking at 1:00pm. G did not show up at 1 as arranged and I called him again after 1 and he finally showed up at 3. G had some excuse that he had stuff to take care of but I thought then that is was odd that he didn’t call me. However I did not call him on this. [This again is a blueprint, this time on me. I should have simply left after the no-show. In retrospect this is even more significant as G is hyper-sensitive and concerned with being punctual for important events and meetings or when it concerns people he deems to be important even if the event is not. The fact that I waited for G, and that I did not leave and do something else is significant as it is out of character somewhat especially since I was not attracted to G at this point. I did not even have a mild interest. I was simply going with the flow as it pertained to the invitation. I feel now that this all was the Flow of Circumstance via the Universe. I lived this way then, so even though it was not specifically conscious in this instance, it was part of my Being and was there nonetheless. So even though I behaved somewhat out of character in the specifics, it was not out of character in the Overall.]

The minute we get on the hike he took my hand and it felt really good and familiar. There was a ease and I was relaxed and enjoyed the hike. I had this flash in the moment he took my hand; of this old man on this mountain ledge taking my hand. I didn’t know what to make of it at the time, and still don’t. But I felt I was safe with the old man in my vision and wasn’t scared of the ledge/precipice we were on. In this vision I was also clutching something with my arm, something ragdoll-like which was a bit odd to me.

The ragdoll-thing was an impediment. It was kind of floppy, maybe like a rabbit. I didn’t want to let it go, I guess it was precious to me, but it wasn’t precious in and of itself. There was a part of me that thought it odd I was holding on to it. It would have been easier to let it go over the edge. But it would not have been right to do so. I had an unreasonable regard for it as if it had life. I could have set it on the ledge, but even that didn’t seem right. Even though it was an impediment to my own progress, it seemed right to hold on to it somehow that I didn’t understand. The old man was just checking on me to see that I was fine and moving along and checking on my progress. Making sure I was not getting distracted. I was just feeling my way along the mountain ledge and I was very very appreciative that I had the old man as my companion. The doll was really superfluous. it didn’t really give me any comfort, but I just didn’t know how to deal with it appropriately. Getting rid of the doll in that unusual situation, which was precarious, would have just been to let it go, but that too had potential complications for my safety. It just had to be dealt with later. [Blueprint again.] Some time after the hike I told G about the vision.

We get to the top of the mountain trail and G kissed me. It was phlegmy, I guess because he was a smoker. I nonetheless enjoyed the unexpectedness of it. We got back to my place, hang out for a little while and G was very forward in his advances. I was kind of standing outside of myself at the time. I enjoyed it but I was also taking into cognizance his forwardness and that it did not jibe with his general Timidity. It conveyed that he was Very at ease with me, particularly unusual since he was obviously not a person who is at ease in his own skin and in his own mind. I was aware of the difference, that my enjoyment does not relate to his behavior. I look at things like that separately. Nothing more than kissing and fondling ensued and then he left. [In retrospect, it was also Sunday, and at the time he had a standing arrangement to have dinner with his mother every Sunday night, or at least this is how I understood/understand it.]

The following week there were emails of appreciation of the hike and time spent. Some of my emails were detailed, poetic and expressive, and I received the impression from G, and via some things he said, that G felt he could not respond in the same eloquent manner. There was an awkwardness and odd undertone from G about this. [I came see this as a function of his Comparative Mindset.]

The next Saturday we went to a 70s party along with a girlfriend of mine and a new male friend of his. At this party G and I danced and we gelled like glue and danced every dance. This was highly usual for me, since I don’t couples dance, I am not a social dancer. Dancing for me is a spiritual practice. We went home together, he stayed over and we had sex. The next day we lounged around on my swing-seat, mainly sleeping and recuperating from the late night. We luxuriated in the sensuality of the warmth of the sun - at least, I did. He then invited me to have dinner at his Mother’s place, since it was Sunday.

At the time I was excited by the invitation and at the same time I noticed that he seemed to want to spend more time with me but that he wasn’t able to extricate himself from his arrangement. I had the feeling that even though he wanted something he was unable to deal with his feelings and the conflict it implied. This was a fleeting impression at the time. [Later confirmed.]

Thus commenced our relationship.

At the dinner, on meeting his mother and seeing their interaction, it was clear there were serious boundary issues. When they hugged there was a clear sexual energy and their hugs were of an inappropriate duration. [This inappropriateness, was later commented on by many others including his siblings.] Dinner was supposed to be at 7:00pm but we only ended up eating at 11pm. This was a pattern I came to see. Things were chaotic and there was a manic energy to their interactions. Their interactions seemed to be via an underlying energetic communication. G displayed anxiety and stress around his mother. G himself was manic. His face would get pinched and flushed. His eyes would get beady and he looked like a cornered animal. his interactions, words, gestures etc, were all very exaggerated. He and his mother seemed to bond via this feverish smoking. [Yet G hated the fact that he smoked and he had unpleasant memories of his grandmother’s smelly smoke breath and yellow teeth.]

His mother paid scant attention to me. I may as well not have been present, which I found odd since I was new to her. I would have thought at least some curiosity was warranted.

What was most interesting was that the mother was usually invited along wherever we went. And she actually would come along and be a third wheel. I got the clear sense that G was scared to *not* invite his mother. Some of these events were where G was performing in a music group and even though there was a seeming appropriateness to the mother being there, that was not it seemed to me the real reason for the invitations. There was a bit of an effort made to cover their oddities of their relationship.

At some point I even said to G that I was going to video tape his interaction with his mother. When I tried to do this this he made explicit efforts to avoid the camera, contrary to his usual love of it.

My friends were quite vocal in their astonished amazement at G’s and his mother’s interactions and basically didn’t want to be around them as the interactions made them very uncomfortable and they advised me to stay clear of them. G’s friends and siblings were similarly uncomfortable.

His mother, despite her lack of interest and treating me like a non-entity, invited me to dinner one day. Shortly after I arrived, she insisted that I invite Her Gabey-Baby. It was patently obvious that inviting me was simply a ploy to get G to come. I flat out refused to call G because he was engaged in something else at the time. The mother had bought three salmon steaks and when it was obvious that Gabe wasn’t coming his mother said I could have his steak. Which I promptly ate, and so our visit ended.

In the meantime,G was hanging out with one of his ex-girlfriends and taking her out to drinks while we were now together. He would hang out at her place until 2-3 in the morning.

There was an incident where he had to fetch the ex from the airport and he only got back at 5 in the morning. G was doing a gig down in Phoenix, which ends at 11pm and typically would result in getting home at around 1am. On this night, before he left for the gig he mentioned that he was going to pick up his ex from the airport so he would be home later. I had gone out with a girlfriend, and we had bumped into a a mutual guy friend. After my girl friend went home I went to hang out with my guy friend because I had not heard from G at that time. Gabriel called sometime after 2am.

My friend was busy making us something to eat when I took the call and G said he would be home a lot later because there were detours. (“Detours”) He was surprised that I was not at home and it took the wind out of his sails. He was all cheery as if nothing untoward was happening, that it was all natural and normal what was happening. he was coming with the attitude that it was all par for the course however on hearing that I was not at home his attitude changed.

He called again around 4am to let me know he was close by and was dropping his new male friend who had done the gig with him who was also an ex-lover of his ex girlfriend and that he would be dropping off the ex-girlfriend. I then told him to come and pick me up at my male friend’s house. He then arrived at 5am. He tried to cop an attitude standing waiting for me with his arms folded across his chest. When I came out of the house in my little black dress with my heels in my hand and just got into the car. My attitude was that what was good for the goose was good for the gander, even though nothing at all transpired or ever was a consideration between me and my male friend. And that was the last time that G tried to pull a stunt like that again or set in motion a way of being that was not conducive to a healthy relationship. Prior to that I had spoken to him about the inappropriateness of his relations with his ex-es to no avail. My actions in this last incident made a substantial difference.

Also, another thing I noticed while now living together was that the inappropriateness of G’s relationship with his mother extended beyond the inappropriate sexual energy to behaviours such as: unrelenting texting, copious cutesy pictures sent via phone, in addition to several emails and phone calls every day. G was extremely stressed by all this pressure from his mother to pay attention to her. She had perpetual calamities that he was being asked to attend to. He displayed extreme anxiety connected to their interactions.

One day he was particularly beside himself on a call to her. I absented myself by taking a walk. After a while I called his mother. I told her that if she loved her son to back off from making him her little husband and lover. Her immediate response was that they had a “Bond of Suffering.” I said that there are women and children in the world that are getting mutilated as we are speaking. There are starving children in India and Africa. That is suffering. The heartache that she and I and other men and women like ourselves experience is something that we all deal with. I implied that what she was referring to is not unusual. I said to her that when I got back to the house and told G about our conversation, that this telling might end G and I’s relationship. I told her I was fine with that as my conscience was cleared by telling her to back off. I told her I could not just stand by and see someone being treated the way she was treating G .

When I told him, he fell on his knees and wrapped his arms around my legs and thanked me profusely and emotionally in a begging way. He said he wished his first wife would have done what I did. I told him that the onus was not for us to stand up for him but for him to stand up for himself in the appropriate quarter where it was very necessary for his psychological developmental progression. Here was a two-year Psychology - how could I walk away? I could not.

She was bullying him. And sadly G tries to do the same thing to others, myself included. For instance, his constant unrelenting emotional pressure to get others to like, approve accept, give special treatment, favors, get extra, like freebies and so on. He does this all in a soft spoken “charming” and inappropriately seductive way. He uses mood and tone to disguise the essential unpleasantness of what he is doing, which is attempting to manipulate interactions and situations in his favor. Some people are affected by this and occasionally he does get “benefit” from this. The benefit is more in what he perceives is a “superiority” or ability to get what he wants using these means.

Sadly this behaviour is reinforced by those who do *not* comply with this pressure, but who respond with friendliness and somewhat false positivity in order to avoid calling him out on his behaviour and the resultant awkwardness. G’s motivations in these matters are not on the up and up. By this I mean that he would not want others to know what his motivations actually are. he believes that others do not perceive what he is about. but he is grossly mistaken in this as it is so patently obvious. Most of the people we have worked with on a regular basis simply indulge G and just disregard this aspect of him as a folly. He is punctual and reliable and that goes a long way as a mitigating factor.

I have over the course of our relationship made numerous and constant attempts to communicate the ethics involved in these interactions and motivations as well as constantly stressing the critical importance of Integrity. His squirrely motivations and lack of ethical integrity have been a source of conflict between us and I would say most of our arguments or “fights’ have this at the heart of it but they are initiated and instigated by negative emotional discharge from G which he directs at me. I then respond similarly in order to “balance” things. The negativity has a severe effect on me.

At one point, from trying to absorb it without responding I became physically ill where I literally could not move any part of my body. I was paralyzed for a while. I slowly recovered by moving one small part of my body and extending this to the rest of my body. He was not at All surprised…this had happened before…He showed no concern, feigned or otherwise. He had perpetrated this before. I then had to change the way I responded to G's dumping of his negative reactions to events, usually when he screwed up in some way, on me. He would become exceedingly agitated when he “f*cked up” in some way. Usually this involved some perceived compromise to his ego and how he thought he would be perceived by others. Not everybody, only those he deemed important in some way. I could not just “take it” any longer. I had to get rid of it and the only way I could was to return to sender by elucidating what was happening as it happened. I could not very well go and take it out on someone else. That would not be right. Yet that was what he did. His way of finding relief from his dis-Ease.

[5hfanfiction]

Now You Know (Camren) Chapter 2: Garden Trails

Camila and I step out of the apartment and make our way down the stairs of the building. It’s a beautiful day out in Los Angeles; There’s a gentle breeze flowing in the air providing some relief from the sun that the clouds fail to cover today. We carry a simple conversation as we’re walking down the sidewalk that is a part of my daily commute to classes. After we walk for a bit, we’re finally at the line for Diddy Riese. It’s one of the hot spots that Keana mentioned during the ride from the airport. Surprisingly, it’s not as busy as I expected on a Saturday afternoon. We wait for in the short until someone is available to take our order. The kind, Hispanic gentleman behind the counter helps us and scoops chocolate ice cream in between chocolate chip cookies for Camila and coffee and chocolate chip with walnut cookies for me.

“Okay ladies, that will be four dollars,” I open my wallet and scout for a five dollar bill, but when it’s finally in hand, I see that Camila is already handing him money. He opens the register, giving Camila a dollar in change that she then places in the tip jar.

“Muchas gracias, señor!” she manages to mutter in gratitude while the ice cream sandwich is in her mouth. She is fucking adorable. He tilts his head up in reply with a smile on his face before tending to the other customers.

“You didn’t have to do that Camila, but thank you,” I tell her as we sit ourselves down on a table just outside the ice cream shop.

“Boohoo Jauregui, I can spare four dollars. These ice cream sandwiches are heavenly, by the way,” she says, taking another bite.

“So how is it back home?” I ask her.

“Honestly, it feels the same. My parents insisted that I dorm at MiamiU, which I thought was kind of pointless because it’s just a little over a twenty-minute drive from home. But now I know that they wanted to give me some sense of independence, which I respect. It kind of defeats the purpose that I come home almost every weekend for a home-cooked meal,” she laughs, “I also share some classes with some of your private school friends.” 

"Do you happen to share a class with Alexa? I know you’re both majoring in Psychology.”

I see Camila stiffen at the name, but she nods regardless.

“We weren’t as close as we were at Carrolton,” I share, “But I do talk to her every once in a while. I’m surprised she hasn’t mentioned that you guys share classes.”

“Oh- yeah,” she sucks in a breath nervously, which I give her a strange look for. “Are you guys on, uh, good terms? She’s not a bitch to you, is she? I know Alexa can be like that sometimes but I swear-”

“No, no. It’s not like that. Alexa is fine.” Something about her tone is off, but I decide to not press it further.

After we finish our desserts, disposing of them in a trashcan nearby. we’re on the sidewalk again heading to another destination I have in mind. “Lauren?” I turn to her and she speaks up again, “I know I’ve only been here for a total of two hours, but I’m pretty sure that your apartment is in the opposite direction,” she says jokingly.

“Camila, don’t worry. I wanted to show you something.” We head towards a pocket on campus that has become sort of sanctuary since moving out to LA.

“Should’ve known where you’d be taking me, Jauregui,” when she sees the sign that reads Mildred E. Mathias Botanical Garden. “You were always one for nature.”

We walk along the trail and I watch as she takes in the diversity of plant species that call this garden their home. 

As we head further into the trail, there’s a woman who has settled herself on a stool overlooking the pond, sketchpad on her lap and pencils in hand. Camila leaves my side and attempts to sneak a peek at the sketcher’s progress, making a big show of tiptoeing towards her. I have to cover my mouth with my hands to stop myself from laughing too hard. I watch from afar when she dramatically strains her neck as she’s behind the artist. To both of our surprises, the artist turns around and greets Camila in a friendly manner. I can tell from here that Camila is super embarrassed to have been caught due to her body language. The two beside the pond converse but from my place, I cannot hear a damn word they’re saying.

My mind goes back in forth in deciding to be stagnant and observe them awkwardly from here or to walk up and jump into their conversation. Fortunately enough, Camila makes that decision for me when she waves and gestures me to come towards her. I oblige of course and when I get closer to them and the artist stands up from her seat. I get a full visual of her and realize that I’ve seen this woman before.

“Hey, I know you.” Her index finger goes back and forth from her chin to me as she tries to figure out who I am while I’m doing the same thing, surveying her brown eyes and slightly wavy locks.

“You’re the barista at the coffee shop next to the art department,” I say confidently.

“Yes,” she validates, “And you come around noon-ish like every other day if I’m correct?” I nod in response, “Yeah, I usually come after my ten o'clock art history class.”

“I don’t think we’ve properly introduced ourselves, but I’m Lucy. But I’m sure that my name tag could have told you that.” She transfers the pencil in her right hand to her left to give me a proper handshake.

“Lauren,” I introduce myself simply.

“So, Camila caught me right when I finished with my sketch,” she laughs and takes the sketchpad laying on her stool to show me her work.

“It’s beautiful,” I express truthfully. Lucy managed to capture everything from the plants on the outskirts of the pond to the ripples and the lily pads within it. “Exactly what I said, but she doesn’t believe me,” Camila adds.

“You can have it,” Lucy proposes.

Camila and I look at each other, puzzled. “We can’t do that,” Camila argues, “You obviously put so much work into it.”

“It’s really no big deal, I have hundreds of these back in my room. Just take it, I insist.” She rips the paper out of the pad’s seams and holds it out to Camila. Camila accepts it and smiles at her graciously, “Thank you.”

Lucy matches her smile and packs up her things, “Well, I’ll see you around Lauren. And Camila, enjoy your time here. Also- it’s never too late. Best of luck to you.” The barista winks at Camila and I catch her eyeing me knowingly before she’s on the trail again heading towards the exit. I wonder what the hell that was about, but I don’t bother questioning Camila about it.

“That was nice of her,” I express as I lead us deeper into the garden. The sketch is rolled in her hand carefully to avoid any creases. “Yeah, it was,” she sighs contently.

“What were you guys talking about before I got there?“

"I don’t know, really. I was just kinda blabbering because I was so embarrassed,” she laughs, reminded of what just happening. I sit down on a bench along the paved trail and motion for Camila to join me.

“I almost forgot how good you are with people,” I praise as she settles beside me.

She deflects my compliment with a pursing of her lips, blowing air out of them and rolling her eyes.

“But I’m serious. You always say the right things. Look- you even caught yourself in a nearly awkward situation and got a fucking work of art out of it,”

“I can say the same to you,” she dishes back, blushing, “And thanks, Lauren.”

I hum in response as I make myself more comfortable on the bench. I stretch my legs out in front of me and allow my wingspan to rest on the bench’s length. The bench I’ve chosen is under the sun and the warmth causes me to close my eyes and lean my head back to bask in the sunlight. Camila has also managed to make herself comfortable. The sketch is laid down beside her and her head is propped up on her left elbow, upper body is slightly facing me. There is silence between the brunette and me, but it is far from uncomfortable. It’s a few minutes until a word is said from either of us.

I open my eyes for a second and I notice that she is hovering her hand over her eyes in an attempt to cover them from the sun. Although she looks adorable squinting, I reach for the sunglasses that I barely remember that were on my head and hand them to her.

“Here,” I tell her, sunglasses still in my hand, “They’ll look better on you anyway.”

She smiles and gently takes them from me. When the round shaped sunglasses finally settle on the bridge of her nose, she turns back Ito me.

“How do they look?” I giggle when I look at my lopsided sunglasses on her smirking face.

I sigh, “Just as goofy as I remember, Camz.”

“I did a little growing these past three years, I’ll have you know,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Oh, really? Now I’m curious.”

“Well for starters, I have mastered the art of using chopsticks. I’d show you, but I left my lucky chopsticks back home,” she jokes that emits a laugh at my end.

“I have to see this for myself. And I know the perfect place.” I think about the sushi restaurant that I’ve become a regular of (during happy hour of course, I’m still a broke college kid). I pull my phone out of my jacket pocket and look at the time. “But we’ll have to do that another day. We still gotta get ready for the party,” I say disappointed, probably rooted from my desire to unwind a little more. But I cannot pass up on an opportunity for Camila to meet my friends. I know she’ll love them as much as they’ll love her. Like… who doesn’t love her? All the years I’ve known her really showed me how great of a friend she is, especially when we met in our teens. Anyone would be lucky to have her. And with that, my conscience begins to travel to Camila’s whereabouts in the years our friendship was on a bit of a hiatus. Before I can stop myself, I suddenly blurt out her name.

“What’s up?”

“Have you dated in college?” I wondered aloud.

“I was in a relationship with one person,” she says and pauses. “I knew I had to tell you eventually,” she sighs, “that I dated Alexa.”

Her reply leaves me shocked, but I still manage to respond. “Like, my friend, Alexa?”

“Yeah,” she confirms, “We belonged to the same study group the last quarter of our sophomore year. I recognized her from one of your old posts on Facebook or something, and we just got to talking, then seeing each other out of the study group. For like, a year.” Oh wow, I unintentionally set them up together.

“I had no idea, honestly. When did you guys… stop dating?”

“Yeah, Alexa and I weren’t the types to flaunt our relationship. We broke up a few months after New Year’s. Probably around the time I started talking to you again after god knows how long. Like, don’t get me wrong. Alexa was good to me. It kills me knowing that I hurt her. I just…” she huffs, trying to find the right words, “I couldn’t find myself to fall in love with her,” I emphasized, “Which was so stupid of me.”

“That’s not stupid,” I reassure her.

“It’s stupid because I’ve been stuck since high school,” she admits.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s always going to be that one person you’re never not going to be in love with,” she says ambiguously. I try to recall our conversations in the past to conjure up who she’s talking about, but my memory fails me.

“And who is that for you?”

“It really doesn’t matter anymore,” she whispers, “But I’ll figure it out.”

We leave the conversation at that. It takes only a few more minutes until we’re back at my place. I suggest to Camila that she should get ready first while I order some food before the party, my reasoning being that drinking alcohol on an empty stomach is a terrible idea. She complies and heads into my room, shutting the door behind her. I grab one of the Chinese takeout menus that Normani and I have saved on the kitchen countertop and take a seat on the couch in the living room.

I skim through the brochure but my mind is elsewhere. And by elsewhere, I mean on Camila and Alexa dating. I could not fathom my mutual friends in a relationship. I always used to think of Camila as my little secret, being friends from different schools and all. She was a nice escape from the group of friends that I have known for basically my entire life. It was kind of disheartening knowing that not the case in college. I can’t say I didn’t expect it because it’s fucking Camila Cabello. I thoughts drift back to the conversation we had moments ago.

That person had no idea who they were missing out on- Damn fool.

A/N: Oblivious Lauren is the best Lauren (not really). Thoughts? Concerns? Suggestions? I’d like to hear them all! Flashbacks are coming thru soon. And I may be in need of a beta reader. Message me if you’re interested. :)

Wattpad: MISSMOVeyonce

#UPDATE #AU #slash #camren #submission #Now You Know