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ocean-anchored · 1 year

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Dear future self... December 26, 22

I figured I should give probably my last dear future self of 2022. So here’s a recap of my life as of today to remember and reflect on. As much as I know and remember this year very clearly and all the changes, I’m still excited to read back on the year and see what I’ve written. Let’s start with my work because lets be honest, it’s been chaotic. I’m still working for YCH, surprise surprise. My replacement quit a couple weeks back so I stepped in again to pick up the weight and continue with all that I was doing before. I’ve been working roughly 3 days a week while still working “full time” with Ed. Which has also been pretty amazing so far. I’ve been learning a lot and it’s been a vast variety of jobs. I sat down with him Friday to review everything and see where things are going in 2023 and I’m excited. As much as I do love the variety and doing so many different things, I’m actually happy that we’re cutting back on the several different companies and scaling it back to only a couple. He’s burnt out and I really see it. I can’t imagine his workload and it’s refreshing that he reminds me that I do take a lot off his plate but I still feel like I’m constantly harassing him with these little things that I’m not sure how to answer. Regardless, we’re cutting back Havii, Qortex and eventually startups and that will be interesting. It’ll be exciting to work for GSU, honestly, the whole Organizational Development is mind-blowing and so intelligent that I really just hope to be learning this stuff along the way so I can apply it in my own life and areas. I really appreciate Chrystal though, even though I haven’t been hitting my “24″ hours a week she’s still been keeping me on benefits and man is that such a huge relief to not think about. Obviously the extra money is a big bonus as I’m really trying to set my life up financially and for my future. I recall one of my personal goals this year was to pay off my line of credit that Trav helped wrack up and have $5k in savings. I remember at the start of the year I thought that was pathetic. To have a $5k goal, thinking everyone should really have that as a back up at minimum but gave myself grace in understanding the ridiculous world we live in and the debt that everyone carries so I reassured myself that was a pretty reasonable goal for myself considering the $12k line of credit that still hung over my head at the time. I’m proud of myself that I’ve hit that goal. With being paid out from Travis (regardless that I got the absolute SHIT end of the stick here and fucked myself over but at least I’m done with that chapter), my LOC is paid off (again within reason as lawyer fees are damn expensive and I could simply pay the last $2k I put on it a few months ago but am hoping the payments will reflect in bettering my credit that Travis also fucked over royally). But with that being said, with working two jobs just about the entire year so far, I have saved up at least $5k in savings above paying off my LOC. As much as it’s exhausting working two jobs, I don’t know if I’d prefer it differently. Being able to put more money away to provide for myself and my future is my goal and if that means hustling now so that I can set myself up for later than really why wouldn’t I? I just still need to find the balance and take care of myself. - Working on that. Relationship wise - that’s been a damn interesting one this year. I really deep down know I did make the right call with ending things with Richardt. As hard as it still is. Even the last day or two I’ve been catching myself wondering when he’s online, checking my messages in case he texted. I have to stop. I’m mad at myself because before when I had made my decision and leading upto when I was telling him that my decision was still in place a week later I had felt good. I felt like I was actually emotionally getting over it and had stopped waiting and wondering if he was going to text. Now that we’re “Friends” I’ve found myself going back into always checking on him and fuck do I need to stop. I cut soul ties this morning (should have done a while ago) and really just need to be praying to God that he helps redirect my mind everytime I catch myself thinking I need to check. It’s frustrating. That he tells me that he wants to talk everyday and “why can’t we? Id really love to” and now it’s like I wait for his messages or his replies and when he doesn’t my head spins into distrusting him. Man am I still so damn broken. Not trusting anyone. I went from actually trusting him probably more than I’ve trusted most or ever in a relationship for that matter, to now as much as he wants my entire trust now and to “get to know me” it’s almost like I trust him less. It’s probably anxiety and just creating stories in my head of what might be going on etc but it’s exhausting and I need to stop. I need to care less. I need to focus on God and sorting those distrust and broken spirit as a priority over any man. It sucks as I do feel lonely and I know I’ve somewhat done that to myself but I really hope that this next year will bring some new friendships, healthy ones, to build into. Which this leads into friendships. I know I’ve sucked royally at being a friend this year, again trying to balance everything while understanding about being a Highly Sensitive Person has been a struggle to balance. It’s been too much for me and I know I’ve always been the one to have few friendships because I rather them go deep than go “wide” in multiple but I really crave that connection. I made one pretty good one with Amber the last few months. She’s really sweet and so much fun. We literally just talk for hours and it’s been refreshing that she’s put in effort into making plans. As nerve-wracking as it is, I am going to reach out to the Young Adults group with church so that I can really connect with Christians. I really need that in my life. Family - that’s been an interesting one this year. I felt real alone this year with our family dynamic dwindling. It honestly probably was the hardest year in having to deal with that. Almost reminds me back to when I left home and Steve reinforced that no one from the family talk to me. BUT I had prayed so much the last few months if I should reach out to Steven and finally when my mom said she reached out and he had responded, I felt that it was time. Thank Jesus for that. I’m honestly so excited to see them tomorrow night. I really pray that we can reconcile and start rebuilding our relationship because I’ve missed them the most this year for sure. My relationship with Meliss has had it’s moments. I still am concerned about her. She’s definitely struggled the last couple years and this last year has been really hard to watch with her. I should be praying for her more. Overall I’m happy and blessed that our relationship has really just gotten so much stronger this year. So many different things have brought us so much closer together. It’s like I keep wondering how we could get any closure and then we do and I’m just amazed and blessed. Overall, I’m not exactly where I thought I would be at this time. Although, I also didn’t really look forward and think I’d be anywhere specifically and really had no idea what this year had in store for me anyways, but I guess I thought life would look a little different than what it is. It’s still okay. Doesn’t mean I’m not happy. I am happy. I know a couple weeks back I said I wasn’t but the last couple weeks I’ve feeling blessed and happy that at least I feel that I’m moving back into the right direction again. As much as I can be upset with myself that I’m not farther along in several different aspects, I’m still proud of where I’m at today and how far I have come, especially through all the troubles and messes of this year. I really want to focus on my relationship with God this next year. I want to get back into focusing on the things that bless my spirit. I did a lot of them earlier this year and I feel like because winter is here and I’m not outside enjoying nature as much that’s why I feel like I haven’t been doing anything I enjoy but I also want to focus back into drawing, reading and building those deep connections. I’m excited for this next year. I hate making goals because I feel like it’s stupid to be making them at the end of the year and that you don’t need to wait for the year to be over to make goals etc. But I do want to take the time to reflect this week and see what kind of goals that I want to achieve and work todays this next year.

#personal #reflection #year reflection #dear future self

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mousepsychologist · 3 years

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With Aaron

Summary: Reader avoids Hotch after getting cleared for sex following a kidnapping incident because she is self-conscious about the scars left behind.

Pairing: soft!hotch X Female Reader

Content/warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI): Language, brief mentions of torture (similar to an episode of CM), brief mentions of knives and blood (as a means or result of aforementioned torture), mentions and descriptions of scars, insecurities, sexual content, oral sex: female receiving, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, praise, use of pet names and some fluff.

If I am missing anything please let me know!

Word count: 3,956

A/N: Submission for the @hotchafterhours Smutty One Shot Challenge. Also, this is the first fanfic I have ever written, so if it is super rough to read...my sincerest of apologies, and feel free to pretend this does not exist😅😂

Sex…

Sex with Aaron…

That is all you ever think about. You are absolutely consumed with the idea of being with Aaron.

You love sex with Aaron. You’ve been having sex with Aaron almost everyday for two years now and holy shit...it is the best sex you’ve ever had. It is so good that even when you shouldn’t be thinking about it...you definitely are.

When you innocently watch him twirl a pen between his thumb, pointer and middle fingers while thinking, all you can think about is how those long, thick fingers feel inside of you. Or, when you watch him sip his coffee, all you can think about is how those soft lips feel sucking and nipping at your bare skin.

However, anything he does, innocent or not, it always gets you going. So, you can’t fully blame him. But, you know Aaron, and some days you are sure he intentionally tries to get you squirming...even at work.

Everyone knows he is Mr. Professional and you think just the same but you also know that you are his achilles heel. So, if and when he wants to play games, well...you can be his checkmate.

You will rock a deep v-neck blouse that gives him the perfect view of your cleavage or a tight pencil dress that accentuates your ass because you know it will cause his face to falter or his breathing patterns to become erratic.

The two of you are the King and Queen of the sexual chess board. He knows how to move in ways that make you scream out in pleasure while you know how to sacrifice your pawns so he can seize control of the bedroom.

And as much as you love thinking about sex with Aaron or actually having sex with Aaron, you are able to sometimes keep your sexual thoughts at bay.

However, when you aren’t thinking about sex with Aaron, you are thinking about cuddling with Aaron, watching TV with Aaron, going on dates with Aaron, cooking with Aaron, laughing until you’re crying with Aaron and everything else in-between. Anything and everything that the two of you could possibly do together is always what you’re thinking about.

Your relationship with Aaron has never been just about sex. However, sex with Aaron has always been a sacred thing between the two of you. He treats your body like a temple. Not just any temple though...rather a temple he seems to have built himself.

He knows your body better than you do and how to make you feel like putty.

He knows how to interpret your moans as well as assess your temperament and determine whether you want to have playful or rough sex or, just softer, lazier sex.

And up until now, sex with Aaron has never been something you were nervous or self-conscious about.

---

Everything changed following your kidnapping two months ago where an unsub managed to hold you hostage for a week.

It was the worst week of your life. It was a long week that consisted of beatings, cigarette burns and knives being dragged up and down your body.

***Two Months Ago***

When the team came bursting into the basement you were being held in, you looked like a bruised, bloodied, mangled mess. You are hunched over and tied to a chair with your clothes barely hanging on by a thread. Your body is littered with both long and short knife marks, small and large bruises, and multiple cigarette burns.

As your team stormed the area, you were so disoriented that you didn’t even comprehend what was happening around you.

A large, calloused hand gently touches your shoulder. You flinch and the hand immediately retracts itself.

“Y/N...” he pauses. “Y/N… it’s me. It's Aaron.” His voice is so quiet, calm, and soothing.

You immediately relax. You have never been more relieved in your life. You blink a few times and your vision unblurs to see an unfamiliar Aaron.

He is so panicked and scared. You are sure you’ve never seen him this scared. He is also tired. So so tired. You are positive he hasn’t slept since you’ve gone missing.

He slowly places his hand back on your shoulder once he realizes that you know it's him. You're slightly shaking and exceptionally weak.

“Sweetheart, I need to carry you to the ambulance. Is that okay?”

You nod and go to straighten up but immediately wince and whimper in pain.

“Y/N, no, don’t move. I’ve got you”.

To pick you up he gently places an arm under your knees and another behind your back. It hurts but you find solace in his touch and the faint smell of his cologne. You bury your face deep into his chest and feel your tears surface as you start to sniffle.

Aaron immediately notices and places a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“Y/N, it's okay. I’ve got you.”

You press yourself further into him and grasp firmly at his shirt. Your tears start to come faster. “Please don’t leave me Aar. Please don’t go anywhere. I’m scared and I don’t want to be alone again.”

“Oh Love...it’s okay. You’re not alone. I am not going anywhere. I am right here. You have me. Always. I want you to forget everything and everyone else but me.”

You feel his grip on you tighten as you go unconscious.

That's the last thing you remember until you wake up in the hospital two days later.

---

***Present Day***

It has been 53 days since you have had sex with Aaron. But today is the day you are supposed to receive medical clearance from your doctor.

Up until this morning, all you wanted was to have sex with Aaron. Because of your doctor’s orders, Aaron wouldn’t give in to sex until you were cleared. You were totally okay with following the doctor’s orders but Aaron and you had decided that it was just best to not do anything remotely sexual until you were cleared.

So...for the last 53 days, the most the two of you have done is kissed and cuddled. No question about it, the two of you love to kiss and cuddle but...you also love to do SO...MUCH...MORE.

You understood where Aaron is coming from. He just wants you safe and healthy.

You, on the other hand, want so badly to be fucked by your boyfriend.

So, it’s safe to say that you are so excited to get cleared. You know Aaron is excited too... though he won’t admit it.

You have tried multiple times to get him off but it's never worked. You want to do it for him, but you selfishly need to have his large, veiny, cock deep in your throat. You want to taste him, to make him feel how he always makes you feel. You also miss the way his hips buck towards you causing you to choke on his pulsating dick.

But he never budged. And since he never did, this also meant that the two of you haven't seen each other naked in the last 53 days.

You miss his cock just as much as you miss his mouth sucking on your clit or having his hands pinch your nipples, but by waiting, you know that the first time back to having sex with Aaron will be worth the wait. As Aaron said it quite clearly one day, “Pretty girl, I’m going to make you cum so much that you won’t even be able to think straight. I may have to make you cum for every day you haven’t been able to.” He said this with a smirk and a wink, but you’re pretty sure he is not kidding.

...And damn it, you are so ready for it.

---

You wake up the morning of your appointment, and head to the bathroom to shower and get ready. This is what you’ve been waiting for. You are so excited to finally have sex with Aaron tonight. You take a little longer in the shower to prepare yourself. Using extra exfoliator, moisturizer and your more expensive shampoo and conditioner.

It isn’t until you step out of the shower and catch a glimpse of your naked body that your anxiety flares with a vengeance. Sure, a lot of the cuts and burns have healed and the bruises are long gone but there are still some scars that are still blatantly noticeable. They look so ugly, red and puffy.

The panic sets in at the thought of Aaron seeing you tonight. You feel the pressure of how tonight is supposed to go. You know Aaron loves you no matter what but that doesn’t silence the voices telling you otherwise.

A knock at the door pulls you from your self-deprecating thoughts. “Honey, are you almost ready?”

“Umm, ya. Just a sec.”

You quickly put your clothes on but your eyes never leave the mirror that is reflecting your damaged body. You exit your bathroom and head to the kitchen where Aaron is pouring two cups of coffee.

“Morning gorgeous.” You cringe at the name which you are sure he notices but he doesn’t acknowledge it and continues on. “You sure you don’t want me to come with you to your appointment?”

“No, it's okay. It shouldn’t take too long anyways.”

“Alright, my love. I will see you at work then.”

He walks up to you and kisses you gently. His hands lay on your hips and slowly take the ends of your sweater in them. You begin to feel his hands touch the skin just above your waistline and immediately grab both of them and pull away. He gives you a questioning look but before he can say anything you beat him to it.

“Babe, I really have to go. I don’t want to be late.” You place your hand on his cheek and give him a quick kiss on the lips. “I love you and I’ll see you later.”

You turn and walk out missing the clearly puzzled look on Aaron’s face.

---

You arrive at work a few hours later cleared to have sex again. And though you want to be excited, you aren't. You are so in your head that you don’t know what to do.

You know you can’t avoid Aaron so you walk into his office to tell him the “good” news.

Aaron hears you walk in and close the door. He quickly walks to you and kisses you before asking about the appointment. You inform him that you’re cleared and you panic more as you see the excitement spread across his face.

He cups one hand on your cheek while the other lays on your hip. He slowly starts to kiss you again. You love the taste of him. You can taste the coffee from this morning as his tongue makes its way into my mouth. Your hands go to his neck and begin tugging at his hair.

Aaron loves when you tug at his hair so you are not surprised when it elicits a few moans from him. And anytime a moan leaves those beautiful lips of his, it always runs straight to your core. You can feel your panties dampen as he sucks on your bottom lip and squeezes your hips.

You are so lost in this kiss and it’s the first time all day that you aren’t drowning in your thoughts.

You are in the moment and it's amazing.

The hand cupping your cheek moves to mimic his other hand squeezing your hip. You don’t even feel his thumbs rubbing the skin above your waistline and dipping under the top portion of your thong. You are so focused on rubbing your hands along his ribcage and chest. You love feeling his chest and tummy.

Aaron starts kissing down your jawline causing you to tilt your head back in pleasure. You can feel his soft lips dance their way down your neck. It's the stark contrast of his rough, calloused fingertips sliding up both sides of your ribcage that snaps you back to reality.

You quickly step away and readjust your blouse.

“Woah Y/N.” He gently grabs your wrists. “What is going on? What's wrong?” He asks with pleading puppy dog eyes.

“Nothing is wrong Aar. It’s just that we're at work with people around.”

“Okay, but that hasn’t stopped us in the past.” A slight smirk appears on his face.

“I know, but I would rather wait until we are home. Why don’t you come over to my place after work?” Hopefully being in the comfort of your own apartment will calm your nerves.

“I’d love to. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.” He moves both hands to your cheeks and places a delicate kiss on your forehead.

“Sounds good. I just have a few more reports to finish before I head out.” You say as you head towards his office door.

“Alright, sweetheart. I’m looking forward to it!”

You can see the excitement on his face and hear the sweetness in his voice as you exit his office. The nerves fluttering in your stomach almost make you nauseous but you have to ignore your thoughts so you can focus on the remainder of the work day.

---

You are home for 30 minutes when Aaron finally enters your apartment. You're sitting on the bed, leaning up against the headboard with your knees tucked to your chest when you see Aaron’s broad shoulders lean against your door frame. You know you can’t keep up the facade any longer.

“Alright, Y/N. What's wrong? Something is clearly off with you. You’ve been distant all day today. If I did something wrong, please just tell me so I can fix it.”

The sincerity in his voice is almost too hard to handle. You can feel your eyes start to fill with tears but you don’t cry. You tilt your head down and stare at your fidgeting hands.

“It’s so bad, Aar.” As soon as those words left your mouth you knew that was the worst possible way to phrase the sentence.

Aaron immediately walks to the bed and sits cross-legged in front of you. The panic is evident in his eyes.

He grabs your wrists to move your arms up and begins touching along your stomach. His eyes are moving all over your body like a ball in a pinball machine.

He’s searching for an injury.

“What hurts Y/N? Let me see, please! I want to help fix it.” He’s so scared. You immediately feel guilty about how fast your words send him into panic mode but it's this caring nature that reassures you that Aaron loves you no matter what.

It's what finally gives you the strength to tell him how you feel.

“Nothing hurts, babe. I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to phrase it that way.” His face slowly begins to soften.

“Then what is it? I know something is wrong.”

“My scars, Aar. They are so bad. They are way redder and puffier than I thought they’d be at this point.” Your eyes are focused on your bedspread. Quite obviously avoiding the gorgeous ones you can feel piercing into you. “My entire torso is hideous...I just don’t want you to see it.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” His hands come up to cup both of your cheeks.

You cut him off before he can continue. You need to tell him the whole truth.

“I know it’s dumb but I have this fucking voice in my head telling me that you are going to be bothered by them and less attracted to me. Which I wouldn’t blame you because I am already thinking the same thing about myself.”

“Please, Y/N. Please don’t ever think that I would ever find you unattractive for any reason. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I love everything there is about you and nothing could ever change that.” He says this reassuringly while placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You can feel your anxiety slowly dissipate. “I know you do. I have just been so nervous thinking about you seeing them for the first time tonight. Plus, we’ve been talking about having sex so much once I got cleared and I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Y/N.” He says with such conviction that you force yourself to look into his eyes. “I need you to know that we do not need to have sex tonight, tomorrow night or anytime soon.” His hands are now gently rubbing up and down your arms from your shoulders to elbows. “We will go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with. And that will always be the case.” He pauses and lightly squeezes your arms. “Whether following an injury or not, okay.”

“I know, Aar. And you don’t know how appreciative I am of that and how happy I am to have someone as caring and supportive as you in my life.” You gently grab his face and place a tender kiss on his lips.

The love you feel for Aaron is all consuming. He has managed in a matter of minutes to dilute your anxiety to almost nothing. Now, all you feel is this intense rush of passion for the love of your life.

The kiss starts to develop into something much more needy. You both are fighting for dominance but you quickly relent and let his tongue invade your mouth. His large hands make their way to your hair where they lightly tug and pull.

Your hands are now on his shoulders pulling him on top of you while simultaneously working to unbutton his dress shirt.

You feel him hesitate and look down at you. “Y/N, are you sure?”. His eyes have never looked so intently at you.

“Yes, I am sure.”

That’s enough for him to abruptly continue kissing you. Your eyes are now closed as you lose yourself once again in an unforgettable kiss with Aaron Hotchner.

You are obsessed with how he tastes and you continue to feel yourself relax as you breathe in his pine scented cologne. The smell has and always will make you feel at home.

Aaron slowly removes your top and stops all of his movements which leads you to opening your own eyes.

You see him staring at your stomach which brings all of your insecurities to the forefront.

You feel yourself moving to cover your stomach when Aaron catches them and pushes each to the side.

“You are so beautiful Y/N. I can’t believe I get to have someone as beautiful, kind, intelligent, and courageous as you in my life. So please don’t ever try to hide yourself from me.”

The genuineness exuding from him is enough to melt all your anxieties. You know that you want him no matter what.

“Thank you, Aar. I love you so much and I don’t know what I did to deserve a man like you.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

His soft lips return to you. He slowly makes his way nipping and sucking at the skin from your neck to your breast. He begins to suck on your nipple while massaging the other with his large hand. His teeth graze over your nipple causing a ripple effect down your spine.

You love feeling his warm breath and wet tongue move across your already hard bud. Aaron tends to your other breast with his mouth before moving down your torso.

He begins to gently kiss each of your scars. You feel your stomach nervously tighten.

Aaron, as always, senses how your body briefly tenses.

“It’s okay, Love. I am right here with you. I want you to forget everything and everyone else but me.”

You feel your body relax. “I am okay, I promise. Please Aaron.” You beg with a quiet whimper. “I need you.”

His lips continue moving down to where you need him most as he removes your pants and thong. No matter your insecurities, you always seem to be needy for all things Aaron. So it's no surprise that you are already wet from only being kissed by him.

Aaron’s tongue moves further down so he can tease your clit. The action causes you to squirm beneath him. As much as you love his mouth on you and feeling him lick and suck on your clit, you need more.

“Aar, please…” you moan and arch your back off the bed.

“What do you want Y/N? Tell me and I will make it happen.” He responds while inserting two fingers into you.

He is curling his finger inside of you while continuing to suck on your clit. Your breathing has increased significantly along with your moans.

“Aaron…please. Please I need you inside of me.”

In an instant he grabs your legs and pulls you towards him. Once your legs are wrapped tightly around his waist, he pulls his already hard cock out of his boxers and begins to line it up with your core. He teases your entrance with his tip before he finally thrusts into you.

He fills you so well as he thrusts in and out. You can feel yourself climb towards your release with every thrust.

“Fuck, Y/N. You feel so good.” His pace quickens and becomes a little harder but he holds you like you are the most precious thing to walk the earth.

“I’m so close, Aar.”

“I know, baby. Let go, I’ve got you.”

That’s all you need to fall apart. Your body tenses before spasming uncontrollably. Your back is arched as Aaron continues to thrust into you to help ride out your high. It doesn’t take much longer for him to find his release as well.

You both try to ride out your highs as long as possible. The two of you are breathing heavily and a slight layer of sweat is now covering your bodies.

You gently begin dragging your nails up and down Aaron’s back as he is still laying on top of you. While still trying to come back to earth, he pulls out of you and rolls over to your side.

You miss the feeling of having him inside of you when he rolls over but the emptiness is quickly replaced as his arm is draped across your waist and is used to pull you to him. You are now laying more on him than the bed with your head nestled on his chest.

Aaron presses gentle kisses to the top of your head. “You okay, Y/N?”

“I’m perfect.” You are so at peace laying on his chest listening to his steady heartbeat.

Aaron is rolling the ends of your hair between his fingers as you continue to cuddle into him. “Okay, good. Are you sure that wasn’t too much this time?”

“It was perfect. I promise I would tell you if I wasn’t okay.”

“Alright, I just want you to be happy and comfortable no matter what.”

“I know, Love and I love you so much for that. You always make me feel amazing, especially when it comes to sex.” You giggle as you sit up to place a gentle kiss on his nose.

“Well, I am glad you enjoy it because I owe you 52 more when you're ready.” A devilish smirk is now plastered on his face.

“52 what?” Your puzzled look causes him to laugh.

“Orgasms, pretty girl.”

“52 orgasms!” Your eyes damn near pop out of your skull.

“Oh yes, 52...and not one less.”

And in this moment, well...all you can think about is 52 perfect orgasms with Aaron.

#hotchafterhourschallenge #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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honkhonkrichard · 3 years

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Theory: Stanley Uris was Murdered.

Tagging @vvanini I hope you can follow this okay it’s very word vomity lol

Okay So TW because this post will touch on Stan's death ad the methods behind it

I propose that Stan Uris was murdered. by IT. In his home on that fateful night. I think that Stan posed the biggest threat to IT and therefore IT felt the need to take him out before the battle even started.

Allow me to explain.

Okay, so, I need to lay out some basic "rules" or "facts" before I make my case. They are as follows.

- IT planted it's roots in Derry, and finds it difficult to leave, but still can at it’s own wil. If you read the book (I honestly don't blame you if you haven't) You'd know that once the Losers kill IT for the final time, Derry (the Physical town) is obliterated. Buildings explode, sinkholes appear, things are flooded. The town is in ruins by the time that the Losers leave the sewers. The movies don't adapt this so If this is news to you thats fine. the bottom line is that destroying IT destroys Derry, like ripping a tree out of the ground with all it's roots. Because of this, we can make the claim that while it can Leave Derry (as it does every 27 years) it probably takes tremandous amount of power to do so, which is why IT only goes when the cycle is over. Why does this matter? Well, what if IT left Derry to get to Stan? The murders had stopped for about a week when they're all in the Jade of the Orient. Plenty of time for IT to cross from Maine to Georgia. Side Note: We KNOW IT leaevs Maine to elsewhere in the world because of King's extended universe all interconnecting. it's not far off at all to make the claim that IT is the same evil that haunts, say The Shining's Overlook Hotel, which is in Colarado.

- IT is omnipresent This is also a given, IT lives everywhere, and can fuck with time and space in godlike (or maybe eldritch like) ways. in IT: Chapter Two, when Mike claims "IT Doesn't know I know what I know" he's unfortunately wrong, because we know that IT can be in A) Multiple places at once, B) can manipulate anything on the drop of a hat (See: Stan being teleported away from everyone else in Chapter One, Everything about Neibolt, etc) and C) Knows everyone's deep fears. This is further proven by IT Saying things like "Beep Beep Richie" (although this is Horribly Horribly executed in the films, ugh.) and so on and so forth. On top of all of this, We can make the claim that IT can exist outside of Time as well, given that IT is immortal. SO, what's stopping IT from Knowing Mike was going to call them all back (Espically considering that IT TOLD Mike to do this?). Even if we keep IT's omnipresence to the location that IT inhabits (in this case Derry) IT would still have knowledge of where the losers are through Mike. And if you take the Lucky Seven/Chosen Seven route (oh my god I got theories on that too) you could argue IT knows where they are inherently due to their cosmic status.

- Stan is the "most Powerful" loser So, obviously all the Loser's are powerful, espically considering they're the ones who Defeat IT (Again going on to the Lucky/Chosen Seven theory). This next claim is going to be less focused on what the 2019/2017 Movies do because they are Bad Movies and that's a whole other rant. However, in the book, Stan is (to my knowledge feel free to correct me on any of this) the only loser to Actively ward off and 'defeat' IT on his own without running away. He uses his belief in this what is Real (birds) to ward off what is "not real" (IT). The other losers do manage to take down IT in their own Right, but Stan is ultimately the one to Really get IT. This is because Stan's character revolves around Belief and Willpower. These are, in some form or another, the ways to Defeat IT. the ritual of Chud is a battle of Wills. in the book, Bill takes IT down and Eddie does the final blow. In the Remake (ugh) the losers can defeat it Technically using the belief that IT isn't as powerful as it claims because IT's "just a clown" (Ihatethatfuckingendingsomuchugh). Stan being much more skeptical than the rest of the group in his ability to understand Reality vs IT's illusions is a powermove, and IT knows that ability doesn't go away as Stan grows up, but rather he gets more powerful. Stan is the Only loser out of the 6 who left that has any sort of knowledge about IT, where the other losers have nothing. Bev has nightmares, yes, but she still forgets them. We're told in his chapter (Chapter 3, Six Phone Calls (1985), Part One: Stanley Uris Takes a Bath) that he has some hazy knowledge of his place in the Lucky Seven, and even goes so far as to MENTION it sometimes, even if he doesn't quite remember or understand any of it, his knowledge of IT and Derry is worlds more prominent than that of the rest of the losers.

(page 52 of IT: "Stanley, nothing's wrong with your life!" "I don't mean from inside." he said. "From inside is fine. I'm talking about outside. Something that should be over and isn't. I wake up frmo these dreams and think, 'My whole pleasent life has been nothing but the eye of some storm I don't understand.' I'm afraid. But then it just... fades. The way dreams do." OR page 45: He had been smiling a little. Now the smile faltered, and for a moment he seemed puzzled. His eyes had darkened, as if he looked inward, consulting some interior device which ticked and whirred correctly but which, ultimately he understood no more than the average man understands the workings of the watch on his wrist. "The turtle couldn't help us," he said suddenly. he said that quite clearly.)

So, Stan has some cosmic knowledge of IT and Maturin and his role in the battle against It. What does any of this have to do with his death? Well, let me point out some other things about Stan's death that always stuck out to me. - His death chapter is narrated by his wife, Patty, rather than himself. The other chapters - almost all the other chapters - are narrated by their respective Loser (the caviot for this is Ben, but Ben is also wasted out of his damn mind so its understandable.) - Stan's personality is few and far between in the book, but we know he has a weird little sense of humour and that he's incredibly logical. I think that this logical part of him would be able to understand that Suicide is Never Ever the answer, and that it would cause FAR more problems than it would solve. (the 2019 movie tries to reexplain his death and it's crap and i hate the letters i hate the letters so much im gonna explode) The other losers try to rationalize his death by saying "He would rather Die Clean than Live Dirty (Page 506, Chapter 10, The Reunion, part 3, 'Ben Hanscom Gets Skinny') but he had already BEEN Dirty when he defeated IT the first time, and I think he would've recognized that. - upon finding him, Patty (in her narration) notes that Stan's head is bent back over the edge of the bathtub, so from his sight she would have been upside down. If Stan DID kill himself, why would he be positioned like that? It's unnatural, like someone Posed him. - the cuts on his arms are two length wise cuts. I'm no expert but.. that's suspicious. That's weird. - IT is written in blood on the wall. Why? Why would Stan right THAT of all things? You know who DOES like to paint with blood? IT.

Alright, returning to my thesis statement, Stanley Uris was murdered. Do I think Stan genuinely was going to take a bath at 7pm (which we're told is weird for him)? Yes. I think that's absolutely a thing he could have done or planned to do. Do I think he slit his wrists and commited suicide so he wouldn't go back to Derry? No. Not even remotely.

Let me paint a New Picture.

It's May 28th, 2016, or 1985. Stanley Uris gets a call from Mike Hanlon. Stan is incredibly hesitant to go to, and says he needs time to think about it. Or tht he'll try. He can feel the starts of a Panic attack, and as he's remembering the circles of Hell he went through as a child, he tries to hold himself together. He doesn't want his darling wife to see his break, so he says "I think I'll take a bath" and nothing else before going upstairs. he hides in the bathroom. He closes and locks the door, because, well, he's panicking. Locking doors is one of The Small things he does. Is it usually the bathroom door? no, but still (OCD is a bitch, and even with medication, but this is a special case). He looks in the mirror and tries to breathe. This is fine. He can do this. They killed IT once before and they can do it again. He thinks about his younger self, the promises made, and how he could explain all of this Patty in time to catch a flight to Maine. It's terrifying, but if his friends are going to bite the dust, he wants to be there with them, wedding vows be Damned. Then he looks at his reflection again. A younger, rotted version of himself stares back at him. IT crawls through the mirror. Stan freaks out, obviously. This isn't real. This Can't be real. But IT utilizes this notion against him. It digs it's claws into his arms, and forces him to bleed out in the bathtub. IT then sets the scene nicely. Razorblades on the counter, a bloody signature on the wall, a horrible posture of Stan's neck. So on and So forth. and then IT returns to Derry. IT's a little weak, yeah, but Stan is dead. That's what matters. the Lucky Seven has now Officially broken, and the balance shifts in favour of the clown.

So that's the theory. feel free to correct me on anything or engage I have plenty of theories on this story and I like discussing this stuff :).

#anyways #Stan #stanley uris #Stan uris #mine #Murder Theory #honktheory #thats a tag now I gues ??#pw #analysis #meta

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twdmusicboxmystery · 2 years

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Leah and Duality Pairings - Part 1

***Okay, Everyone. I’ve been super busy this week and haven’t had time to write anything up that I didn’t prepare beforehand. I’m seeing that people are super worried about the fact that Leah was shot in the same place as Beth. They fear that means Beth is dead as well. As I said, I haven’t had a chance to address this. This short answer is, no, that’s not what that means. I’ll talk about why in a couple of days. For now, while this doesn’t address the physical, this discussion will probably help you understand, symbolically and thematically, what they were trying to accomplish with Leah. If you’re worried, I think this will probably make you feel better.

I apologize as well. I didn’t realize that edit would freak everyone out so much. I’ll post part 2 tomorrow (more insights from my fellow theorists on this same subject) and then I’ll talk about the head wound more after that.***

I said before that I’d talk more about why they might have done things the way they did with Leah and what it might mean. This is just a discussion between me and my peeps where we make some observations and bat some ideas around.

@galadrieljones:

This makes me feel like we just saw some sort of anti-Coda. It makes me wonder why. Like with a lot of things related to Leah, I don’t understand why they’re replaying Beth and Daryl and Coda from this inverted mirror image POV. Like, is it merely meant to call Coda to mind or is it something more complicated, sort of like the yin and yang thing, balancing the scales of good and evil? They could do this in any way they like. Why they choose to focus it around Beth and Daryl is still unclear.

I was just thinking about the cabin and the sort of "mysterious cabin in the woods" trope in fiction, and how these cabins are often associated with portals and metaphysical phenomenon. In "Here's Negan," Negan goes to the cabin and sees his old self, a literal mirror image that talks back to him and forces him to reckon with his past.

Here, we have Daryl reckoning with a mirror image of Beth, and therefore his past, but in his case the mirror image is actually not just a hallucination like we originally thought, or like Negan saw. She's real. That's the part that still confuses me, but I'll leave it at that for now.

The cabin clearly seems to be a vessel to the past, or a mirror held up to the past, in some ways, but the reflection is twisted. Maggie also seems to be looking into a mirror in the end of 11.16, in the cabin, as there's a clear thematic symmetry meant to be established between her and Leah--like there are two ways that character could go: Leah lost her son and has become a feral psychopath. Maggie's son is alive, and while she's been dealing with some things, essentially, she's still on the side of good.

This is an ongoing theme in TWD, ie Dwight/Daryl, Glenn/Nicholas, Rick/Negan. There's also AU Michonne in "What We Become." It's just now being manifested in this cabin. But like I said, this would all make more consistent sense if Leah had been just a hallucination. But she's real?

So, it's like the "alternate universe" theory, which previously has only existed in hallucinations and thematic character pairings has come to life. I don't get it. Because the logic of the show can't really sustain a true Beth doppelganger without an explanation. This is where it must be true that Leah's appearance is a product of Daryl's perception.

Here's how I'm looking at it, and it's going to be confusing because I'm still working this out in my head:

Leah is clearly a device made to engineer an inverted 4b to "Coda." There's a lot of evidence for that here. Looking back a bit, in season 11, we see Daryl come out of his shell and retake his identity, not unlike he does in 4b, and he starts to feel and show emotions again, after a decade-long battle with depression that seemed to culminate in a literal psychotic break after Rick's death.

It's a dramatic, protracted retelling of "Still," in which Daryl is shut down and maddeningly silent, and Beth must bring him out of his shell by provoking his anger. Only then can he break down and admit his guilt, cry, and move forward. In both iterations, Daryl's "awakening" coincides with his relationship with a woman. In both iterations, she has a blond ponytail and certain similar features and traits. Bu in the new version, the replay, she's not an angel come to save his soul. She’s a demon. She's like a succubus, sucking his soul out and trying to bring him down with her.

Leah becomes a composite of all the sad things that have happened since Beth's death and also the evil and violence he himself has committed. They are all being conflated with Beth as causes of his misery.

These things all mix up and imprint on Leah, which is ofc conveniently the name of a Biblical figure, literally an imposter, a stand in for Jacob's beloved in Genesis. When Daryl kills her, he's finally "putting it away," to quote Beth, so that he can move on with his life.

In this sense, the only real way to grapple with Leah’s changing appearance is to pin it on Daryl’s perception. This has basically already been said, but it's possible that we don't know and never really saw the real Leah. We've only seen the way Daryl's psyche imprints on her at various stages of his development in season 10c and 11. Or maybe the Find Me Leah is the real Leah after all, ie: red hair. There is no evidence that could refute this so far, ie: nobody ever comments on Leah’s hair in-show. So either it’s something only WE see or something that only Daryl sees (and therefore us by extension of him being the main protagonist and the character upon with Leah’s existence hinges).

I hope this makes any sense at all. From the TD perspective, which has a lot of interest in the Hero’s Journey, one could argue that Daryl needed to get rid of this parasite living inside of him in order to transcend, achieve apotheosis, and become a man worthy of his Ultimate Boon, which we know is love. In terms of character development, Daryl is now fully formed and heroic and even breaking free from the surface-level comforts of the Commonwealth. This would pave the way toward Beth’s return, if only because Daryl has finally earned his reward.

You could even argue that by killing "Beth" in the inverted-"Coda," Daryl is replaying his internalized guilt over her death. He couldn't find her in time to save her, and he has blamed himself this entire time for her death, a very deep guilt that was clearly probed by Rick's death as well. As far as he's concerned, he might as well have killed her himself. However, in killing Leah, Daryl doesn't have to feel guilt. Because Leah was trying to kill Maggie, Beth's sister, and the only vestige of Beth's legacy that remains. So, in some sense, he is saving Beth by killing Leah, inverting his trauma over not having been able to save Beth ten years ago.

@wdway:

@Galadriel I really love all of what you wrote above. What you are saying also helps emphasize that in FM we are seeing Daryl taking bit and pieces of several women in his past. Lori, Andrea, Michonne and Carol. I feel there is a lot of dark Carol in Leah but then by far Daryl and Carol has had the longest relationship and I do feel he has connected a lot of his abandonment issues with Carol.

It was after Carol came to tell him she would not be visiting him as must because she needed to spend more time with Ezekiel and Henry, it was after that conversation that Daryl went back to the cabin and left the note. The conflict that Daryl and Carol were having in the present time over her need of revenge played a big part on how he viewed his and Leah's past. I'm thinking of how his last memory of Leah had been of her leaving him while wearing the color green. Two of the most important women in his life leaving him Beth Greene and Carol leaving to live her own life. I believe that e16 will be as many other episodes are in revealing new things each time we watch it.

@galadrieljones:

Yes, you're very good at reading how Daryl's present tense interactions with Carol color his past tense interactions with Leah, and then extrapolating on how that applies to the other women from Daryl's life, like Beth, Lori, and Michonne.

I really hope we're close by now in terms of our interpretation of Leah as being like partial hallucination or more just like a muddled perception of a woman. She's real, but she's also this person on which Daryl is projecting years of abandonment issues, hurt, and guilt.

Another hint that Daryl is talking to some sort of projection or idea he has in his head, and not Leah specifically. Possibly Leah felt this ambivalence, too, and that's part of why she left him. In the montage of flashbacks that seem to encompass their relationship, we do see a shot of Daryl leaving Leah, presumably to go continue his search for Rick. Ofc we know he's searching for more than just Rick.

@twdmusicboxmystery has that interesting post, too, drawing parallels between Leah and Daryl in their feral states.

@wdway:

Something else I cannot believe we have not talked about is the use of Dutch angles in the cabin scene.

@galadrieljones:

The Dutch angles, yes. So interesting, as they truly do echo Coda. I think they’re traditionally meant to communicate disorientation and psychological confusion. We are in Maggie’s POV in this scene, as we wake up with her. We were in Rick’s POV in Coda. Coda was admittedly much stranger in its cinematography. It screwed with POV and angled shots in much bigger ways that left it feeling very confusing and disorienting to the point where we can’t even believe what we’re seeing to be a true depiction of reality.

This scene with Leah feels perhaps dreamier than normal, but nowhere near as unclear and bizarre as Coda. It seems like what happens in that cabin is irrefutable. The Dutch angles just ramp up the psychological tension with the face-off and remind us that this cabin is anomalous. We are in some sort of liminal space here. Maybe the Dutch angles are a part of communicating that discomfort, as well as the deranged situation at hand.

@wdway:

My question is do you guys think tptb wanted to mislead the viewers?

@galadrieljones:

I'm trying to think what the reasoning would be for trying to mislead the audience. Unless, sort of like you said, they want the truth to be reserved for only those who are looking very close. I will admit I thought she had been shot in the back of the head at first. I should go back and rewatch the scene. I'm not sure why I thought so. Perhaps it's something to do with the camera angles, and also the fact that Leah falls forward onto Maggie. That sort of fools you into thinking she was shot in the back of the head and the impact shoved her forward. But that's not really how gunshots work, at least not based on the extremely high amount of people and walkers we've seen shot in the head in this show.

Thinking back to Beth, one really weird thing I always thought about was how certain they are to show us the exit wound. You'd think that would be a bad thing; however, gunshot wounds are much more survivable when they exit. A bullet stuck in a person's skull is going to make the odds of survival go way down.

Also, I know I read something about like, how brain matter and bone and all that, it really puts a damper on the bullet. So I wondered if perhaps the fact that it exited the back of her head meant it did not go through her brain at all? Or just grazed her brain. It's a very morbid discussion, but it just seems like it could be important. Idk.

@twdmusicboxmystery:

Hey ladies!

I didn't realize Daryl was in front of Leah when he shot her, either. Once you said that, I could tell from the pictures that you are right. And I went back yesterday and re-watched the episode so I could see it for myself in action.

I don't have a whole lot more to say than what's already been said here. Very clearly, this is a replay of Grady and it's very significant that she was shot in the same place Beth was, that she fell in the same position Beth did. Not that any of you need it, but I think we could make yet another argument for Beth’s survival in the fact that we actually see Leah’s face and entire body after she dies. If Leah is the anti-Beth, and they showed us that, and she's clearly dead, the fact that they didn't show us that with Beth shows that she survived.

I do think it's significant that Daryl is the one that shot her, and also that he shot Hornsby and left a scar like Beth’s on his cheek. I think in many ways, both Hornsby and Leah represent the anti-Beth. With Hornsby, it's more elusive, but I think we’ll end up finding anti-parallels to him and Beth. Which would be terribly shocking, given that he's a villain.

But I wanted to especially address what you are saying, Galadriel, about why they're doing this duality thing with Beth and Leah and how it's confusing because Leah is real, rather than hallucination.

What I'm going to say doesn't at all disagree with what you've already said. And I'm not sure it will be very groundbreaking. Reading your words just put me in mind of other times that they've done this.

Over the last year or so, I've been harping a lot on the duality theory. I suppose I never really thought about how they use it; how it actually shows up in the show. Because of course we see hallucinations that are mirror images of them. As you mentioned, we saw Negan seeing himself in his old villainous ways. We saw the AU Michonne. Another one is Carol seeing Alpha. We liked to compare Alpha to Beth, but in the show, she was much more of a mirror image to Carol. And Carol saw the hallucination of her after she was already dead.

But the thing is, we've actually seen a lot of these duality pairings that are alive and real in the show. You mentioned a few such as Rick/Negan and Glenn/Nicholas. But there are even more that you may not be aware of because they're very subtle. Even I didn't pick up on them until I rewatched like 16 times (exaggeration). But thinking about these other instances helped bring it together for me. What they actually do with the duality pairings, I mean.

So, the showrunners and even Chris Hardwick like to talk about how there are a lot of instances where if the good people in the show had been in different situations, things would've been very different. They definitely showed this in a very literal way with the AU Michonne. If she'd run into the saviors rather than Rick's group, her life might've been very different. I think them showing this is very much a part of the duality theory.

They like to explore the dark side, the dark or shadow side of the character. It's kind of a, "but for the grace of God go I" kind of theme. And I'm not a huge fan of that angle. I'd rather them say they might have chosen differently because the characters always have a choice and they do emphasize that in the show as well. But I think what they do with these duality pairings is they try to show that if their choices had been different, the character might have ended up like these evil or weaker characters.

So, for example, if Glenn had been more cowardly or hadn't made as many good decisions, or met strong people like Rick and Daryl, he might have turned into Nicholas. And I think what they always do in the show is put these pairings together and show us the contrast between the characters and then eventually, the weak or evil character is killed off. Often at the hands of our heroic character. Now, Glenn didn't actually kill Nicholas, but we did see him die in a scene with Glenn, and his death nearly got Glenn killed.

I agree that Rick and Negan were duality pair, and by sparring Negan at the end of AOW, Rick proved once and for all that he was not Negan. He was the light side rather than the dark. If it hadn't been for them wanting to do a redemption arc for Negan, I'm sure he would have died.

But let me tell you about the examples that I was talking about earlier. A couple of years ago when I went back and watched rewatched S4, I picked up on some duality pairings. They’re very subtle I’d never noticed before that.

Another duality pairing that they did with Rick was clearly the Governor. Both were strong leaders who wanted to be in charge. Both lead large groups of people. Both could be somewhat dictatorial at times. And both wanted the prison. It took a long time, but in the end, the Gov was killed, and Rick survived. In that case, Rick didn't kill him either. He came close, and definitely wounded him, but someone else finished him off.

But watching 4x06-4x08, I realized we saw another major duality pairing with Daryl. It was Mitch. I don't know if you remember him, but he was the guy who operated the tank and became the Governor's right-hand man. He had a brother whose name was pete. These two, if you watch closely, are mirror opposites of Daryl and Merle. Even to the point where the one who represents Daryl (Mitch) is more antagonistic brother, and the one who represents Merle (Pete) is the sweeter brother.

One of the major ways you can tell Mitch is a mirror for Daryl is the fact that he didn’t have sleeves. And back in S4, Daryl never had sleeves. I always have to chuckle at that. The writers are having all kinds of fun. But the real way you can tell is that Daryl is the one that kills him. The two of them come face-to-face after Daryl blows up the tank and Daryl shoots him in the heart.

This is what I mean about what they always do with the duality pairings. It's like Daryl is killing the weaker or more evil version of himself so that he can grow and move on and become a more transcendent character.

I would submit that anytime one half of a duality pairing dies, it’s a major crossroads or pivot point for the character. And lookee here: as soon as he killed Mitch, he left with Beth and Bethyl started to happen. Like, literally as he’s killing his evil half, Beth is running up behind him. Super cool.

But as you said, they don't always have to be hallucinations. Some of the characters they do with this with are real. And this is all thematic, rather than literal in the show.

Overall, this is what I think they are doing with Leah. I hoped that she and Beth would meet, and clearly that's not going to be the case. But the thing is, even though she definitely is an antiparallel to Beth, I don't think that her role in the story is for Beth, if that makes sense. It's really more about Daryl and Maggie.

So, think what you said above is all true. In many ways because of Daryl's guilt of what happened at Grady, he had to kill the anti-Beth and finally laid to past rest. This is the only way he could move on. (You have to let it go, or it kills you; it’s like he’s finally doing what Beth told him to do, and I think he had to reach this point before he was ready, emotionally, for her to return.)

Leah, in many ways, was also a mirror to Daryl. You mentioned above the post I did where I was comparing Daryl and Leah being feral and out in the woods. We've all talked about this, and you touched on it above as well. We all know that one of Daryl's weaknesses is that he turns inward too much when things become emotionally difficult. He has a propensity towards self-destruction and self-isolation.

Leah was a literal representation of him staying alone in the woods. When he was with her, he was away from his family. So, him walking away from that relationship was also walking away from solitude and walking back toward his family. This is why it was so important that he always choose to search for Rick above staying with her. Because she represented a feral, non-civilized, nonsocial sort of life. Even though on the surface is not terribly healthy for him to be looking for a dead body for years and years, it represented that he had not given up on his family. That he hadn't given up on himself as being part of the world and part of a community.

When she gave him the ultimatum, she was symbolically demanding that he give into his animalistic or feral side, rather than going back to civilization and his family. He refused. And that is the only reason that he was able to move forward. If he’d stayed with her, he would have become more feral, more evil, or just died alone in the woods.

We can also see this in what AK and Norman have both said about him seeing Leah again in 11x04. It's one of those things where, when he was with her, he was so in the thick of his own depression, in his own cloudy mindset, that he wasn't really seeing the forest for the trees. Kind of like someone who’s in an abusive relationship and really can’t see how unhealthy it is, because they’re too close to it.

But when he saw Leah again, years had passed, and he was part of the community and TF again, so his mind had cleared. He immediately saw things with massive clarity and knew that she was not who she had portrayed herself to be. On a more symbolic level, at that point he was able to see, in hindsight, what an unhealthy place he had been in before and that her feral, nomadic lifestyle was definitely not what he wanted for himself.

I'm sure I could ramble for hours about this. It would be interesting to analyze every single duality pairing based on it. (For the record, Michele who sat across from Maggie in 6x13 in a parallel scene to her and Leah, was a duality pairing for her. Michele talked about how she’d gotten pregnant by a man she didn’t really love or even particularly like, but lost the baby. By contrast, Glenn and Maggie had a very loving and healthy relationship, and she obviously didn’t lose her baby. Paula was also a duality pairing for Carol. Both died by the end of the episode.)

But the point is, Leah did represent Daryl needing to put certain things from the past, having to do with Beth, behind him. It also represented him once and for all, not wanting to be the feral loner anymore, and killing that side of him. He’s chosen his family and will fight for them and that's exactly what he needs to be in order to finally get Beth back and sustain a really healthy relationship with her.

And even from a romantic standpoint, he had to symbolically kill the non-healthy relationship so that he could then go on to the healthy one.

Meanwhile, after the episode right before Leah dies, Emily appears on TTD. 👀

I wholeheartedly believe that all the clues we got in this episode—the clock, the music, the child's invention, flipping the coin and someone calling tales (coda)—shows that were heading into the coda where Beth will be revealed.

Daryl said there's a rumor that Charleston might be willing to trade for weapons. If that's true, and TF is trying to get their communities back, I'm thinking they might go to Charleston to try and find allies and weapons. And maybe that is how Beth will finally be revealed. Here's hoping!

For your question yesterday, @wdway, about if they’re trying to trick the audience, I’d say yes. It’s just too weird, and obvious that they didn’t make it super obvious, to say no. I don’t have any great insights on why, other than to mirror it with Grady. I asked myself why they’d done that at Grady, because it’s probably the same or exactly opposite. At Grady, it was to show, as Galadriel said, psychological turmoil and that something bad would happen. And also to trick the audience about Beth’s death. While psychological turmoil could apply here, at least prior to Leah’s death, they really don’t try to trick us. They show us very obviously that she’s dead and Daryl killed her. So, all I can think of is just to parallel it even further with Coda, or else perhaps so it’s not too obvious a Beth parallel and people aren’t putting it together.

But honestly, the only ones it would be obvious to anyway are TD. So… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

@wdway:

Talking about Lance having some overtones of Beth. In reading above I realized that Lance may represents Dawn. My mind is spinning with so many ways that it could be true. When you mentioned the wound that Daryl gave him it made me think of Dawn giving Beth the wound above her right eye. I could spent a lot of time comparing Hornsby and Dawn. Wait, wasn't Dawn's last name something very similar to Lance? I want to say Lassiter but I don't think that's quite right but something along that line.

@twdmusicboxmystery:

It’s Dawn Lerner, btw, which does sound somewhat similar to Lance. I think @wdway might be onto something here. We’ll have to examine this tie more closely.

I’ll stop there. I think you get the gist of the discussion. Even though it’s a ways away, I can’t wait to see what 11c brings us!

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

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jonsa101 · 3 years

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Helen Sharpe: A Deep Dive Into Her Wants and Needs What it Means For Sharpwin in Season 3

I feel like in more ways than one this week’s episode revealed so much about where Helen is at mentally after the worse of the pandemic but also solidifies where Sharpwin is heading this season. We finally got a first look at Helen and Cassian’s relationship and also learned a little bit more about her family. I’m so glad they incorporated Freema’s Iranian heritage in the show and I can’t wait until we get an introduction to her Ghanian side as well. Helen having a Ghanian mom is literally chef’s kiss and as a fellow Nigerian, I know west african mama’s don’t play so I hope we get to see her on screen. As for Cassian and Helen I loved the fact that he was able to truly support her in her time of need but the chemistry is severely lacking for me. I usually don’t mind seeing HeIen with someone else because it’s usually fun and entertaining and I obviously know who her endgame is. Panthaki and Helen where hot and fun to watch. I just feel like the showrunners hyped Cassian up to be this edgy, “bad boy,” arrogant type who’s supposed to give Max a run for his money but I’m not seeing that at all! The chemistry is just flat y’all. It’s just not giving what they said it was supposed to give...

Anyway, despite the lack of chemistry, Cassian is playing a role that we honestly haven’t seen from Max yet. He’s truly being there for her and doing his part to support her in her time of need. In Max and Helen’s relationship it has always been the other way around with Helen supporting him. He has never truly stepped up to meet or even think about her needs. Not really anyway. Furthermore, in the midst of her vulnerability, Helen revealed that she feels like “she keeps running out of time.” These two aspects of this episode are so important because it tells me two things.

1. Helen is clearly at a breaking point and desperately wants to make her relationship work with Cassian because she feels like she’s “running out of time” in every area of her life.

2. Max has too and unequivocally will meet Helen’s needs in more ways than one this season.

From everything we know so far about Helen this is how I would summarize her. Helen is a beautiful and incredibly talented doctor who cares deeply about her patients and wants to be respected for more than just being a “celebrity doctor.” She was previously engaged and lost her finance suddenly to a brain aneurysm. She desperately wants a child and is considered “geriatric” because she’s over the age of 35 and in the midst of her fertility journey she realizes that she doesn’t want to raise a child on her own. Ultimately she actually wants love and a family. Being vulnerable has never come easy to her in any of her relationships, romantic or otherwise and there are so many things about her life that we still don’t know yet.

So based off what we know, when Helen says she feels like “she keeps running out of time” there’s depth to that statement and we have to assume that when she said that she was referring to EVERY aspect of her life. In a sense she ran out of time with her fiancé Mohammad when he passed unexpectedly and though she isn’t “old” Helen no doubt also feels like she’s running out of time to have a baby and a family of her own. These are two things that Helen wants more than anything else in the world and the fact that it hasn’t happened yet is clearly getting to her. Professionally, I feel like Helen is at a place in her life where she’s content and is learning how to balance putting her patients first while also upholding her press commitments. In her personal life it’s a whole different story and I definitely think Helen is spiraling. The ripple of effects of the pandemic are definitely still affecting her and in a sense Cassian is more like a means to an end to help her feel like her personal life is “on track.” Even Helen herself said that “I don’t want to make excuses anymore about you” to Cassian which clearly indicates that she has her doubts about him and the relationship but she’s going to jump in anyway because she doesn’t want to waste/run out of time!

I know a lot of people think that Sharpwin probably won’t come into fruition until season 4 or season 5 but I could not disagree more. To me, Helen’s fear of things running out of time in her life and or feeling like she’s had missed windows of opportunities is the BIGGEST INDICATOR that Sharpwin is about to come to fruition RAPIDLY! The writing is on the wall! She is not trying to wait for anything or anybody. She’s seen the worst of the pandemic, she knows first hand how life is so fleeting and how quickly things can change and she’s had ample amount of time to reflect on what she wants and needs in her life. She hasn’t truly dealt with her trauma but she is jumping all in for her sanity.

For Max and Helen, this is a make it or break it season for them where they decide if they want to be together or not. The will they won’t they stage has long passed because it no longer make sense in the storyline for either of them to still be confused about what they want especially after the worst of the pandemic. They clearly have feelings for each other and are in love. It was indicated in season 1 and damn near established in season 2. After a year in a pandemic where they saw thousands of people die a day and so many people have had time to reflect on their lives, for them to come out of that still dragging their feet and being indecisive about who they love and what they want is not a realistic storyline. It could have worked if the pandemic never happened but it did and the pandemic changed everything for everyone.

So with that said this brings me to Max. Cassian is here for one purpose and that is to ignite Max into action. Helen last season has practically already put her feelings on the line with her declaration of “Everything I’ve done I’ve done for you” and a year later Max hasn’t done shit about it. For the past two seasons she has been his support system and this season he needs to step up and be hers. This is the season where Max needs to go above and beyond for her like she has done for him countless times in the past. Time is clearly of the essence, especially for Helen and he needs to get his shit together quickly. I personally feel like he’s going to supersede her expectations and then some and his actions to me just scream that he’s preparing for a new chapter. He’s already told her he’s trying to build something better for her and Luna, he’s moved out Georgia’s things and at Helen’s encouragement, brought Luna home. The only thing left that he needs is a partner and clearly Helen is his partner!

Also there’s a level of emotional support that we haven’t seen Max give to Helen and I think we saw this play out as well with Georgia. Max has a tendency to be caught up in his own world a lot of the time and sometimes he’s not really present with the people he cares about. I think this season Max is going to become more self aware of that and actually be there for Helen when she needs him the most.

Anyway, these are just my thoughts what I see for Sharpwin this season! Here’s to hoping these things actually come to past. Let me know what you think is in store for Sharpwin in season 3!

#new amsterdam #helen sharpe #sharpwin #max goodwin #max x helen

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dragonheart-swtor · 3 years

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Friends and Fears

Summary: Eris is the Alliance Commander, Cipher Nine; Reykal is the most recent champion of the Great Hunt. Each of them finds someone utterly unintimidated by them in the other - something both of them need, especially when discussing old fears usually best left buried. Or, Just a quick one-shot of a bar chat between friends that should've taken me a week and instead somehow took me the better part of a year because I kept getting stuck. (Title subject to change, I've been sitting here for twenty minutes and can't think of anything better so it's either this or the doc name which is just "Spooky", if anyone comes up with anything better feel free to give me a heads-up)

Tags: Female Bounty Hunter & Female Imperial Agent, alcohol consumption (not excessive)

Find me on AO3 at Dragonheart37!

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The tiny, grimy cantinas that dotted the streets of every space station like this one were always bustling with activity, rowdy with fights and gambling and music, and this one was no different. It wasn't the kind of place where you couldn't take your hand off your credit purse, but it definitely was the kind of place you wanted to keep a vibroknife on you at all times, just in case. Any self-respecting citizen – Imperial, Republic, or Alliance, and probably Zakuulian too – would steer clear of a place like this. Which was, of course, exactly why it was the best kind of place for an Alliance Commander and a Great Hunt champion to disappear; Reykal always fit right in without even trying, and all it took was a change of makeup and a less formal outfit for Eris to go unnoticed in a place where no one was looking for her.

Reykal had promised this particular spot had the best food and drinks this side of the station, and she wasn't wrong – the fare here was greasy, but good, and came in truly enormous proportions. Better yet, it was busy and loud, and after a quick scan and sweep for bugs – purely out of habit, of course – Eris could actually believe that she didn't need to be on high guard for people listening in. It was nice to just settle in and amiably listen to Reykal spin dramatic stories of her most impressive hunts – even if she'd heard one or two of them before – and of her most recent ones as well, side jobs taken while the Alliance didn't have anything of import for her.

She was just wrapping up one such story when Eris spotted the Sith.

Eris, through sheer power of habitual control, did not stiffen at the sight of him – masked and robed in full Sith garb, clearly just passing through the cantina on his way out from a back room somewhere. She tracked him for a moment – but he didn't turn to look at them, just swept past as if the room were empty instead of crowded with people. She carefully didn't turn to watch him go, despite the urge to do so and despite seeing Reykal turn out of the corner of her eye. Instead, as soon as she was satisfied he wasn't approaching them, she locked her eyes on the reflections in her glass to the exclusion of all else, using the visual focus to shutter everything else away. If there's nothing else in your mind, there's nothing they can read. Just glass, light and color reflected over the curved surface, playing shapes over the pale green liquid inside, tiny bubbles floating to the surface – no thought, no emotion, just glass. Nothing they can read.

“Kinda spooky, aren't they?”

She glanced up at Reykal's interruption. The Togruta sipped her brandy. “Sith. Jedi. Force people.” She wiggled her fingers as if that needed further explanation. “The way they move, the way people move for 'em without even realizing. How they answer questions you haven't even asked sometimes.” She snorted into her glass. “Fuckin' spooky.”

Eris chuckled despite herself, tension easing at the sheer casualness of Reykal's blasphemy. The Sith was gone, the door swinging shut behind him as Reykal spoke – out of the usual range of mental contact. Reykal's eyes sparkled with humor too; she stretched her arms out in front of her across the bar like a cat, all relaxed grace despite her bulk. “It's not the way I would have put it,” Eris admitted, “but I can't say you're wrong.”

“They make everybody nervous. It's not just you. Though I'm surprised you haven't gotten more used to 'em, considering.” She smiled when Eris blinked, a little surprised. “You hide it well. But you quit moving for a split second every time one of 'em comes into the room. You spend more time watching them than me, or Dad, or Hylo. Which probably isn't good for your wallet, knowing Dad and Hylo.” She grinned to take the edge off the joke, points of her fangs still hidden.

“Apparently I don't hide it well enough,” Eris remarked, sipping her own drink – some bubbly lime-and-mint mix she'd already forgotten the name of that the bartender promised tasted almost exactly like its alcoholic version – as she scanned the crowd once. “I've had some... bad experiences. Let's just put it that way.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. You worked with 'em back in the Empire, right?” Reykal rested her chin on one hand, fingers tapping her temple absently. “I did a job for some Intelligence guy, back in the day. Forget his name. Seemed pretty skeeved by the whole thing. Ended up having to kill him after he did try to murder me. 'Loose ends,' or whatever.”

Eris blinked. “Oh, that was you? I think I heard about that.”

Reykal raised her eyebrows. “Really? I thought it was supposed to be under the table, nobody was supposed to know about it.”

Eris laughed aloud at that, shaking her head. “Intelligence always knows.” She paused. “Which probably wasn't the most comforting thing to say, was it?”

“Probably not.” Reykal grinned at her again. “I figure if Intelligence was going to come after me, they'd have done it by now.”

“You were a low-priority target,” Eris assured her, smiling back wryly. “We had bigger fish to fry, at the time. That would have been right before the Dominator blew up and everything went to hell.”

“Bigger fish to fry, eh?” Reykal chuckled. “I'm insulted.”

“Intelligence deals with pretty big fish. Be glad you weren't one of them.”

“Speaking from experience?” Reykal asked, arching an eyebrow.

Eris shrugged, sipping her drink again to hide her smile. “That's classified.”

Reykal scoffed, mocking exasperation at the old half-joke. “'That's classified.' Someday I'm going to have to get some actual drinks in you to get all those classified stories out of you.” She winked. “Personally, I think you just can't hold your alcohol and that's why you're never caught dead with it.”

“That's also classified.” She didn't bother to hide the grin this time.

“Kriff's sake,” Reykal exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “You're impossible. I don't know why I bother.”

Eris laughed. “I'm sure you're very put-upon to deal with me.”

Reykal downed the rest of her glass and turned to flag down the bar droid; Eris took the opportunity to sip her drink and sift through her thoughts again, deliberating. “You're right,” she murmured after a moment of quiet. Reykal turned back to her, raising an eyebrow, and she clarified, “The Sith do... make me nervous. They all do, but... Sith especially.” She huffed a half-hearted laugh. “It's not exactly a secret, at least not to them. They can feel fear a mile away.”

Reykal took her refilled drink absently, attention focused on Eris much more seriously than she had been before. “Working with 'em doesn't help?” she asked. “You and Beniko seem... close.”

Eris tapped the rim of her drink, staring down into it as she thought through her next words. “Minister Beniko and I have worked together closely for long enough that I'm no longer concerned about her...” She trailed off.

“Acting like a murder-hobo Sith?” Reykal filled in. Eris gave her a look that made her snort and raise an appeasing hand. “Sorry. But you were thinking it too.”

“I would have phrased it more tactfully,” Eris sighed, “but... yes. Sith... they tend to use their power to its utmost to control those around them. It's just how things are in the Empire. And they have a great deal of power.” She pursed her lips. “Do you know some cultures worship Force-users as demigods?” Reykal shook her head. “It's true. And who can really blame them?”

Reykal nodded. “A lot of people are scared of them. Not just in the Empire, either. Anyone in their right mind would be wary.”

“It's... bizarre, to be equal to a Force-user,” Eris admitted. “In the Empire, even the lowest Sith acolyte ranks above the Force-blind. To have Minister Beniko and Darth Nox at my war table – my war table – and not be answering to them as superiors... I'm still not used to it, even after all this time. And Master Garen'ishta, and the Barsen'thor – even Senya. I'm used to having to be afraid of them. At this point, I'm not sure I'm capable of not being nervous around them. Not...” Not after Jadus. And Zhorrid. But that she couldn't say out loud, not here, not even to Reykal. “Not after working directly under them for so long.”

Reykal hummed sympathetically, running a finger around the rim of her glass. “I don't blame you. I talk a big game, but really, Force-users have been some of my most dangerous targets. There's a reason most hunters don't take contracts on them at all.” She took a sip of brandy, jaw working as she thought. Quietly, barely audible over the noise of the bar, she added, “D'you actually think any of 'em might turn on you?”

Eris pursed her lips, but shook her head. “Not at this point. The Jedi will fight alongside us for as long as they're convinced our cause serves the greater good – no matter how much the Barsen'thor pretends to be aloof. If Nox were going to turn on us, she would've done it by now; she's had ample opportunity, and in any case, she hates Zakuul and Arcann for stealing her place in the Empire from her too much to ally with them. Senya... Senya will stay loyal for now, at least. And Minister Beniko has long since proved her loyalty, as I said.”

“Well, that's good, at least.” Reykal cracked a grin. “Better'n if you were actually logically worried about 'em.”

Eris smiled. “Are you insinuating that I'm being illogical?”

“Hey, you said it, not me.”

“You are insufferable,” she said mildly, taking another sip of her drink.

Reykal laughed aloud, fangs flashing in the light. “Eh, that's why you like me. None of that faffin' about trying to be dainty and diplomatic about it.”

Eris shook her head, still smiling, but didn't deny it. It was true, really – Reykal was perhaps the only person she talked to on a regular basis who wasn't constantly embroiled in politics and diplomacy, who was brashly open about her thoughts and feelings. It was refreshing, if she was honest – a chance to relax for once, to not constantly have to be watching her every word and gesture. To pretend they were just two friends at a bar and nothing more, for a little while.

Reykal spun around on her stool and leaned back against the bar, flipping her back lek over the edge so it wouldn't get crushed. “We should go shooting after this,” she offered, grinning lazily at Eris. “See if your pistol aim's gotten any better.”

Eris arched an eyebrow, eyeing her skeptically. It was hard to tell in the cantina's soft mood lighting, but she was fairly sure Reykal's lekku were flushed a deeper red than usual. She half-smiled. “I think you've had one too many drinks for that, Master Candessan.”

“Pah, too many drinks. I've shot in worse situations'n this, more drunk'n this.” She grinned again to take the edge off the comment. “Suit yourself, though. What do you do for fun, anyway, when you're not gettin' swamped by hell-knows-what kinda work from the Alliance?”

“You might have heard of this thing called 'reading,'” Eris said, allowing herself an impish grin.

Reykal scoffed playfully through her teeth. “Oh, sure, now the high-and-mighty Imperial act comes out.”

“Don't tell me you're a literary connoisseur.”

“Doesn't mean I don't read.” She stuck out her tongue at Eris in a gesture so childish it startled a genuine laugh out of her. “Miss Hoity-Toity Imperial-Logo-Boxers over here, makin' fun of us peasant folk. What's the Alliance come to?”

Eris swatted her shoulder, trying and failing to stifle her laughter. “Why do I tell you anything?”

“'Cause you like me,” Reykal reminded her cheerfully. She slid off the stool to stand next to the bar. “C'mon, finish your drink already and let's get outta here. We can go window-shopping on the boardwalk and see if there's anything to spend the night on.”

“I do have work to do tomorrow,” Eris told her, but she swallowed the last of her drink and stood as well, sliding a credit chit across the counter to the bar droid as it clanked over.

Reykal wagged a scolding finger at her. “Ay, none of that. You said we'd get a night on the town, you're getting a night on the town. You work yourself too hard.”

“Very well,” Eris agreed, shaking her head with a fond smile. “But I draw the line at drunk bounty hunting or robbing anyone in an alley.”

“You're no fun.” Reykal offered her arm with a dramatic flourish and Eris took it with another laugh, letting the bounty hunter lead her out the door.

#swtor #swtor ocs #swtor fanfiction #imperial agent #bounty hunter #erisine #reykal #eris has ✨trauma✨#reykal's really good for her honestly though #'casual blasphemy' is exactly what she needs sometimes #the contrast in voice between these two cracks me up honestly #fanfiction

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inmyarmswrappedin · 3 years

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So, because Fatou’s season ends today and, as far as we know, Druck hasn’t been renewed yet, I want to go over the things I feel the team did well in this season and the things I hope they take with them when they sit down to write the next season (which I’m manifesting will be Ava’s).

I think that s5 and, perhaps to a bigger extent, s6, were the team’s attempt to address fan feedback for and criticisms of s3 and s4. So I have hopes that, after possibly the most scrutinized season of any Skams, they are still willing to read even more feedback and sit down once again to craft a couple more seasons (possibly even 3 or 4 more seasons!).

So, without further ado, things that were done well! (Do I have to add “in my opinion”? Do I??)

I liked that for both s5 and s6, the thorough-line for the season wasn’t made obvious or shared in a press release, but rather it was up to fans to connect the story threads for themselves.

I loved that the team sought to address one of the biggest criticisms of s3, that is, that Matteo was given so many symptoms of a mental illness, but it ultimately went unaddressed in the narrative. They did this by giving Nora a dissociative disorder, and Fatou dyscalculia. (Matteo has been headcanoned as being mentally ill and having a disability.) It allowed the teams to develop both fan theories into full-blown seasons and give each of them the importance they deserved.

I have said this already, but I really appreciate that the team chose misunderstood, misrepresented and underrepresented mental illnesses and disabilities. I feel like s5 and s6 will be referents for many years, because they really took the time to portray a dissociative disorder and dyscalculia in a down-to-earth, unhurried way that isn’t meant to shock and awe, but simply allow us to understand why and when Nora and Fatou will struggle. Druck got the viewers to anticipate when Nora and Fatou would struggle, and that’s the first step in being able to anticipate and accommodate the needs of the Noras and Fatous of the world. I really can’t overstate how important this is and what a difference it makes in a real, tangible way. These seasons aren’t meant to be enjoyed for voyeuristic reasons, but they will legitimately help people.

One of the biggest criticisms of s4 was that Amira and Sam didn’t connect as women of color. In fact, it seemed like in s4 Sam was treated as another white friend, when in s2 both she and Amira were the victims of Kiki’s racism. The team addressed this by giving us Ava and Fatou’s friendship, which I want to say might be the first friendship between main characters of color where their race is a substantial reason for their bond. (There are the Sanas with their Jamillas, but the Jamillas aren’t main characters, and then there are friendships like Jo and Megan and Zoya, or Imaan and Liv, or Luca and Yasmina, but iirc in every case their bond as women of color isn’t made explicit.)

Another criticism of s4 was the way Kiki turned into the world’s most understanding white friend offscreen. The team addressed this with the Ava and Mailin storyline, which I think was wonderfully and subtly set up in s5, then built on with the biology test leaked answers.

On the topic of race, I think a major criticism of s3 was that David’s ethnicity wasn’t acknowledged (to the point where a white actress was cast to play his sister gvhvhv). The team has made up for this with Josh (more in the s6 sm than in s5, but I still count it) and with Kieu My. Fatou and Kieu My bonded over being first/second gen children of immigrants, and in doing so, they acknowledged that these characters aren’t white and have different experiences than white Germans.

The first 6 episodes of this season were some of the finest writing in the Skams. The storylines all connected and built on each other. The motifs were just so good and beautiful and fitting. The themes were all clearly defined and easy to follow.

The tortoise plot was one of the most fun and imaginative storylines in any Skams, it connected Fatou and Ismail in a believable way. And not to rave about a fucking tortoise, but animals can be really uncooperative and that tortoise delivered every fucking clip. Druck has a reputation for being one of the most depressive versions of Skam, but the Maike/Burger plot was just plain fun.

I feel like some of the old gen’s instas were a bit self-indulgent. I’m thinking specifically of Matteo’s memes and how they they weren’t necessarily the kind of memes a gay dude born in 2001 would pick, but someone a decade older. I think this is much better done with new gen. Fatou’s memes reflect her age and her sexuality, and not just that, but Ava, Mailin, Kieu My, Josh, etc. all pick memes and even focus on different aspects of recent news, based on their gender, race, personalities, interests, etc.

I appreciate that the team found a way to fit a sex scene between Fatou and Kieu My to add to the small catalogue of wlw sex scenes on Skams (I’m including the scene in lovleg or we’d only have two lol). While I understood the reasons eskam opted not to include one, I thought there were ways to feature a sex scene that didn’t sexualize the actresses and didn’t require nudity. Cases in point: the lovleg scene, and this scene in Druck.

And it also needs to be said. This is the first original season with a main of color, and the third season overall (after Liv and Imane) where 10 episodes are given to a character of color and no one else. Of the three, it’s certainly the season that loved and respected its main the most. The bar is so low it’s in hell, but Druck did clear that bar!

With all that said, let’s talk about the things I would really want the team to address in following seasons:

The thing I most want them to fix might be small or unimportant for a lot of people, but I think it’s at the core of why the season has been unenjoyable or certain plot points haven’t come across the way the team wanted, for many people. I am talking about the overly expositional nature of the writing. It appears as if the team approached the writing of the clips with the intention of hitting each beat as noted in their agreed upon outline, and absolutely nothing else was to be added. This is an issue both in s5 and s6. It’s just less noticeable in s5, because s5 is setting up stuff for Fatou’s season, and possibly even seasons that haven’t been written yet. The fact that absolutely every second counts makes for a stressful watching experience for me, because the narrative tension is always heightened. Whereas with Skam, the narrative tension would build throughout the clip. Take the Pride scene in Skam, for instance. The clip allows for Isak and Eskild to get increasingly more agitated as they butt heads. I feel like if this Druck team had done the Pride scene in s5 or s6, the clip would’ve started with both Isak and Eskild already on edge, and cut much of the dialogue that got them there.

On the topic of naturalistic dialogue, this season doesn’t have it. Here is an example from ep 10 clip 2, Wieder vereint/Reunited 11:37.

Fatou: I’ll get a certificate too and bring it over to you. And I checked it, I only have to change one course and my schedule will work.

Teacher: Miss Jallow, you are not the first one to come to me with an epiphany. We could fill entire school weeks with the lessons you missed. In addition, Doctor Steinberg told me about your, well… activities. You don’t have a lot of arguments on your side.

Fatou: But I’ve spoken to all of the teachers and they said they are okay with it.

Teacher: You seem to have friends among the teaching staff. Mrs Pavlovic put in a word for you. Okay then, do it and go before I change my mind. [translated by @kieu-tou! Thank you!]

Like. This is the bare bones version of a dialogue. This should be the first draft, not the final version. The coordinator goes from absolute no to yes, with just one line from Fatou. The coordinator gives reasons that would necessitate more than one sentence of counterargument, like Fatou’s absences and the Biology test leaked answers. The coordinator even says Fatou doesn’t have a lot of arguments on her side, and yet it takes Fatou one line to change her mind!

And of course we viewers don’t want or need a lot of time with the coordinator. And particularly at this point in the season, no one would enjoy a naturalistic dialogue with the coordinator of all people. But my point is that this is an issue with the dialogue all this season (and last season as well, but this season has been more scrutinized), the reason I picked this example is because of how easy it is to see here.

Which brings us to the pacing of the clips, and specifically the Friday clips. Because the script goes straight to the information the team wants to convey to the viewers, skipping the build up to it, many Friday clips have fallen flat, felt abrupt, and have been, tbh, unsatisfying. Again, I had this issue in s5, but as that season went on, I felt like the team had a better grip on Friday clips. But then they did it again in the first Friday clip this season, and so I think this is something the writers really should work on. The first Friday clip in Isak’s season closes on Isak being sandwiched by Emma and Even on a bench, visually setting up the love triangle, or more accurately, the personifications of who Isak should want to hook up with and who he really wants. But in order to get there, we’re shown a good amount of info, from the way Vilde, Eva and Sana are handling Noora’s absence, to Chris and Kasper, Even hovering around Isak, Emma trying to impress Isak, Isak escaping and, like, draping himself on the walls because he’s so over it all. Isak playing a game on the bathroom to stall for time. The paper towel maneuver to immediately give us a sense of what a weirdo Even is. A conversation between Isak and Even that gives us some clues about Even’s shame, as well as establish interests in common (like weed), and this is all before Emma even joins them! Just think of all the stuff we learn about who Isak, Even, Emma, Eva, Vilde or Sana are as people, before we get to the point of the clip! Fatou’s season simply didn’t have that. Compare it with the first Friday clip of Fatou’s season where the cashqueens quickly talk about the leaked answers, one of the major storylines this season that only gets a couple lines, before Fatou says she doesn’t want to talk about school (Fatou’s struggles with school, another major storyline), and then we’re onto the point of the clip, which is that Kieu My likes girls too. AND FADE TO BLACK. When people say they want longer clips, what they mean isn’t artificially inflate the clip length or add more plot stuff. Just let us watch the characters interact with each other so that we get a feel for how they relate to each other. I know I wish we’d have gotten more of Ava and Fatou interacting with each other before things turned to shit, and Ava with the other girls, so that I know why they all like and value Ava so much. I wish we’d have gotten more of Kieu My talking to the cashqueens about, like, why she didn’t make use of the biology test answers, instead of getting it on a chat. Or food combos they don’t like. So it makes more sense that later on Kieu My actually thinks she and Fatou are friends. And every line doesn’t have to count. In Skam España, the characters are constantly talking and not everything they ever talked about ended up being relevant. When one of the characters lied about her house undergoing renovations to hide the fact that she was poor, the characters joked about Italian marble and put on bad Italian accents and made that Italian hand gesture. None of this was important to the plot because those renovations weren’t real to begin with, but they made viewers feel like these were real friends joking around, instead of characters needing to hit every storyline beat in a clip.

I have this joke with my friends about Druck always going 🤪🤪 in the last third of every season, in which a season that was very tightly written and cohesive suddenly pulls something inexplicable and pretty much impossible to resolve in 1-3 episodes. Hanna’s season suddenly switching to Mia, Björn creeping on Mia in episode 9! of a total 10, David getting outed in episode 8 and then disappearing for a whole week, Amira’s season pivoting to Mia and Hanna. It has happened in every season except Nora’s, so I thought the team had learned its lesson, but then the forgotten date with Ava happened. To be clear. It really makes no sense that Nora would have hung out with Ava several times since Tuesday, and the topic of the cashqueens being officially introduced to Kieu My wouldn’t have come up. it’s just not realistic.gif I feel like at that point the writing for the rest of the reason became super contrived to keep Fatou miserable and apart from Kieu My and Ava to artificially delay the reunions until episode 9 and 10. Why add a cheating insinuation and the main checking her partner’s messages in episode 8 if you know you won’t be able to properly resolve it? Why make Kieu My mock Fatou’s “uhm” if it’s not going to be addressed in their reunion clip? Kieu My had taken the initiative for a lot of the relationship, so it’s okay for Fatou to take the initiative when it comes to making up. You don’t have to add things that can only be resolved through an expositional info dump. (Please no more exposition than it’s necessary! I think we’ve established that at this point lol.) In the case of Fatou’s season, this is even sadder because I feel like Kieu My’s intimacy issues could’ve been the reason to drive them apart for two weeks, rather than the Maya/uhm stuff. This could’ve also been resolved through Fatou and Kieu My explicitly negotiating their boundaries and how they want to be comforted and how they want to comfort each other, which I thought was the issue with Fatou rejecting Kieu My’s attempts to help while wanting physical touch, while Kieu My didn’t want to be touched but rather seen.

There are going to be many thinkpieces on why a myriad of stuff didn’t work for people, so I’m going to keep this simple and address one last thing. I think that choosing to focus on Nora’s mental illness and Fatou’s disability is a great choice that doesn’t complicate the themes too much, but Druck (and all the Skams, but I’m invested only in Druck succeeding at this point) still struggles with being intersectional. This is the major reason why the Ava/Mailin storyline ended not with a bang, but a whimper. There just wasn’t enough work done to connect Fatou’s struggles not just to her disability, but also to her race (and even her sexuality). I think that if people really want (and lbr, it’ll be mostly poc who will put in that effort and work), they can see how Fatou’s race affected the way other people and especially adults reacted to her, but this wasn’t made explicit. If Ava and Mailin are going to argue about racism all season, why not connect that with Karin firing Fatou from Aquarius? As it stands, Karin fired Fatou because of a disability neither of them knew Fatou has, and that was the resolution to that storyline. Why not make it explicit that the Physics teacher had preconceived ideas about Fatou because Fatou is black? Why wasn’t Fatou’s disability addressed in the meeting with the coordinator? Why didn’t Fatou express to Mailin that Fatou, too, had issues with how Mailin was acting wrt racism? It felt like, with the way the season was putting so much emphasis on racism, all these threads were going to be connected. In the end though, it almost felt as if only Ava is affected by racism (aside from Mailin mentioning Fatou in the last episode). It’s not like talking about how racism affects Fatou is going to make the topic redundant for Ava’s or Ismail’s season. As a light-skinned black lesbian with a disability, Fatou’s life is going to be impacted by racism in a different way than Ava’s will, as a dark-skinned black fat straight cis girl, or Ismail’s, as a Turkish-German possibly Muslim possibly non binary person. All these experiences are specific enough, and different enough, that they can be touched upon in different seasons without becoming redundant. The fact that Fatou’s season almost seemed to forget at times that she is a black lesbian, doesn’t bode well for Ava’s and Ismail’s season to acknowledge all their struggles.

The bottom line is that this season really was great and did a lot of good, and I feel like the writing just needs to be tweaked a bit for further seasons to be even better and more enjoyable overall. I am very pleasantly surprised by how the team took s1-s4 fan feedback to heart and worked to implement suggestions, and so I really trust them and hope they keep working on the show. It’d be a shame if Druck wasn’t renewed, with this team at the helm.

#druck #this post is 3K+ words in word I'm so sorry #but I really hope it makes its way to the writers and is helpful

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puckinghell · 4 years

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Almost | Nathan MacKinnon

Summary: Every time Nate doesn’t tell you he loves you, he almost does. Until the clock suddenly starts ticking, and almost might not be enough. Words: 5.3k Note: I wrote this all at once and I couldn’t be bothered to read it after to make sure it made sense so excuse me if it doesn’t. We’re in the midst of a global crisis, I couldn’t buy potatoes in the supermarket cause it’s empty, and I don’t have my emotional support dumbass hockey boys, so you can imagine the emotional distress I’m under.

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Nate isn’t very good at flirting.

He knows that, and he’s known that for a long time. Not only because he’s got pretty good self-insight, but also because his teammates have been telling him for years.

In fact, the first time he went out with Tyson, back when he just came onto the Avs and going out was a big deal to him, Tys shook his head and said: “If you don’t learn how to flirt you’re gonna end up dying alone. With a Cup and enough gold to drown in, but alone.”

Nate loves Tys to death, but he still thinks about that night sometimes and wants to kick Tys in the shin.

Because as much as he’s bad at flirting, he never really thought it was a problem. Surely one day a girl would come into his life and she’d like him so much she would do the heavy lifting, and he could just kinda cruise along. Or maybe one day, when the right girl would come into his life, it would all be easy, suddenly.

Except.

He’s pretty sure that you are the right girl. He has been sure about that for the past two years, ever since you became friends. And yet, you’re still friends. Just friends.

Nate thinks he kinda accidentally put himself in the friend zone. At first he thought it was fine if you were just friends, because it would grow into something more naturally.

But one day Gabe turned to him solemnly and said: “Once she’s put you in the ‘Don’t go there’ part of her brain, you’re not coming out of there, bro.”

He’d waved Gabe off, but now he’s starting to think Gabe was right.

Because in the beginning, sometimes, you’d look at him a certain way, or you’d say something, and Nate was certain you meant it in a flirty way. Was sure he saw his own feelings reflected in your eyes. But those times became less and less frequent and now, he can’t remember the last time you looked at him like that. He only knows that you talk to him about dates you go on, like it doesn’t break his heart to think about you with someone else. And you wrap your arms around him so easy and comfortably, like the butterflies in his stomach when you touch him have no right o be there. And you ask to sleep in his bed with him after late movie nights like the thought of it ever being anything more than sleeping has never entered your mind. Nate thinks maybe he’s missed his window, but he also can’t imagine not ending up with you. So he starts his quest of getting you to notice him in a different way.

It’s shortly after he made that decision that he’s finding himself in Gabe’s backyard, a bottle of beer in his hand as he stands next to EJ who is grilling steaks on the barbecue. Gabe’s summer barbecue is somewhat of a staple, for the Avs, and if he thought that having a baby would mean Gabe’s parties would come to an end, Nate was wrong. Gabe flutters through the backyard with Linnea on his arm like he’s never done anything else. He switches his own beer bottle with Linnea’s bottle of milk – or whatever she’s drinking – between people he chats to, and before too long he shows up next to Nate and EJ. “Looking good,” Gabe whistles, looking at the grill. “Nate, are you staring at Y/N again?” Nate swirls around to face his captain; he hadn’t even noticed he was staring at you, but perhaps he was, because he knows you’ve been talking to Josty for the past 15 minutes and he’s not entirely happy about the way Josty leaned into you while he laughed at something you said. “It’s too late, bud,” EJ says, his signature toothless grin appearing. “You’ve waited too long and now she’s going to think you mean everything in a friendly way.” “That’s not true!” Nate starts protesting, even though he knows EJ is just trying to rile him up; but he can’t really make his point because you choose that moment to come over to them. “Are you still not done?” you tease EJ, playfully bumping against his shoulder. “I’m hungry, EJ, can you not grill a little faster?” “Grilling is like art,” EJ grumbles, “you can’t rush it.” “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said,” you answer, your voice filled with fondness. “Ah, there’s Linnea! Can I hold her?” You make grabby hands at the baby and Gabe easily passes her to you, which, honestly, rude. “You never let me hold her!” Nate sputters, and Gabe shrugs. “That’s because Y/N is responsible and you killed the only succulent you had in your house.” “A succulent is not the same as a baby. I could take care of her.” Nate feels extremely offended, even more so when you giggle. “No offense, but if I had to pick someone to take care of Linnea, it would be Y/N, then Colin, then literally anyone else, before it would be you,” says Gabe. “Even Josty?” Nate whines, and at that moment, Mel steps in next to Gabe, putting her hand on his back. “Are we letting Tyson take care of Linnea?” she asks. “Absolutely no way,” Gabe is quick to answer, and you suppose it’s a good thing Josty isn’t here to hear that. “I was just saying I would let Y/N take care of our little girl.” “Oh, would you?” Mel excitedly grasps your shoulder. “Gabe and I haven’t had a date night in like, months! “Sure, I’d love to,” you answer truthfully. You slide your finger into Linnea’s hand, the baby making excited gurgling noises as she clasps down on it. She’s stronger than she looks. “Can I come?” Nate says suddenly. His cheeks are a little tinted, even though it’s not that warm outside anymore. “It could be like, a babysitting date.” “Oh, of course!” you answer. “That’s a perfect idea, Nate! Mel, we should set up a play date for Linnea with my sister’s baby!” You ignore EJ’s cackling laugh and what sounds like a low groan coming from Nate, instead follow Mel to the porch with Linnea in your hands to plan the play date. EJ slings his arm around Nate, grinning a little wickedly as he says: “So close, Nathan. Almost got her.”

Nate elbows him in the stomach loud enough to earn a disapproving tut from Gabe.

Nate tells Sid about his plan during their monthly FaceTime session. “Good luck with that, dude,” Sid says, and it doesn’t even sound that condescending, coming from him. “What do you think I should do?” Nate knows asking Sid for advice on flirting is like asking a blind man for advice on how to see, but he’s getting desperate and he really, really doesn’t want to have to ask Tys. He’d never live that one down. “Uh,” Sid answers, and that’s about as much as Nate was expecting from him, anyway. “Maybe ask her out to dinner, or something?” Actually, that’s more than Nate was expecting from Sid, because that’s actually not the worst idea. Sure, you’ve gone out to dinner together many times, but it was always very clearly not a date setting; either the other guys were there, or it was at a MacDonalds – Nate doesn’t like to go to junkfood places, but he supposes if Tys was gonna leave any imprint on him, it would be his love for McFlurry’s – or it was just dinner at his apartment, wearing sweatpants and ordering Chinese while watching some dumb Netflix show. His chance to ask you comes quicker than he thought, because he’s still talking to Sid – about hockey, this time, something Sid does actually have great advice on – when you come barreling into his apartment. Your hair is wet from the rain and you shrug off your rain coat with a wave in his direction. “It’s pouring,” you tell him, “and I walked to work, so.” To anyone else, it would be a bad explanation, but it’s not the first time you’ve showed up at Nate’s apartment like this. You like to walk to work when it’s not too cold but sometimes the weather surprises you and you don’t want to walk back in the rain or the wind. Nate’s apartment is a lot closer to your work than your apartment, so it’s become a habit of yours to go to Nate’s on days like that and just hang out in his apartment until you either fall asleep there or Nate offers to drive you home. “Is that Y/N?” Sid asks. “Hey, Y/N!” “Hi Sid!” you call back. “Nate, I’m gonna shower.” “Ask her,” Sid says, which is very pushy for Sid, who usually never tells Nate to do anything, instead just says “If I were you, I would consider” and let Nate figure out the underlying message. “Ask me what?” you ask Nate curiously, eyeing him up and down. He’s glaring at Sid as if Sid said something wrong, and when he looks at you, he doesn’t quite catch your eye. “I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner with me?” Nate asks. It’s a bit of a formal question for something you do at least once a week, but you shrug it off; Nate is a bit weird, sometimes, and you’re used to that. “Sure,” you say. “Let’s order Thai. Get my usual while I’m showering? I’m hungry.” Then you yell: “Bye Sid!” before making your way to the bathroom. Nate lets out a frustrated sigh and Sid sounds sympathetic when he says: “Almost there, dude. Just, next time, if I were you, I’d consider…” Nate is already not listening anymore.

Today is the day, Nate has decided. He bought roses, which EJ told him is lame and Gabe told him is great idea, and he cooked pasta, for which he used Sammy’s recipe. He’s not a good cook, but Sammy promised it’s impossible to mess up, and he thinks he did alright. He texted you this morning to ask you to come to his place for dinner. You replied with a sure :) and Nate takes that to be a good sign. He has a plan. When you walk in, he’ll take your coat, instantly changing the routine between you, because he normally stays on the couch when you open the door with your key. He won’t be wearing sweatpants, either, not even if he expects you might be; he’s wearing black jeans and a nice button up, and he’s even done his hair. Well, made an attempt to; it didn’t really work out and now it looks kinda the same as always, but hey, he’s really trying, here. Next, he’ll lead you to the table, which he’ll actually have set up, and at that point, surely you understand something different is happening, because a set up table is so different from his normal paper plates and Netflix. Then he’ll give you the roses and confess his feelings. He’s not really thought that part through too much, because every time he thinks about it he almost throws up. So. He’ll have to wing that. The problem, Nate finds out, with planning everything to perfection, is that when one thing goes wrong, the entire plan has to go out the window. Because half an hour after you were supposed to arrive, he gets a text saying sorry I’m late! Be there in 10 and he knows he’s gonna have to reheat the pasta, which Sammy said was not the point of pasta. But he’s not gonna kick off and cause a scene when you arrive, because he reasons it doesn’t really matter, in the grand scale of things. So he sits on the couch and waits. Finally, the door swings open and Nate jumps to his feet, ready to take your coat from you. Except, you’re not wearing a coat; you’re wearing his old hoodie and for some reason his breath hitches in his throat and suddenly he feels like his feet are nailed to the floor, unable to move. “Hey, sorry I’m late,” you call, basically running further into the apartment. “I came from the gym and let me tell you, I have got great news!” “News?” Nate echoes. You stop right in front of him, your eyes shining and a bright smile on your face. Suddenly, you lift an eyebrow, eyes catching on something. “Nathan MacKinnon, did you do something to your hair?” Before Nate can answer, you shrug and continue. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. Guess what happened at the gym!” “What?” Nate seems to only be able to repeat what you say, so he decides to stick with that. “I got asked on a date!” Nate thinks if he had one wish, he would wish for the floor to open up beneath his feet and for him to sink through the building, all 7 floors below his apartment, and then down into the ground, until he could bury himself in the dirt. “A date?” You’re so hyped you don’t even notice your best friend is simply repeating your words, barely reacting in any other way. “He’s so hot, this guy, Nate! He comes to the gym every Thursday, just like I do, and we never talk but sometimes I catch him looking, and like, I look back, you know? And today he came over and he asked if I wanted to get a drink, but obviously I had plans with you and I would never blow you off, so I said we could do it tomorrow. I have a date tomorrow, Nate!” In your excitement, you reach forward and wrap your arms around Nate, pressing your face into his chest. His heart is beating fast, and you notice that he kinda just remains frozen into place, so you look up at him with a frown. “Nate? You okay?” That seems to shake Nate from his trance, as he literally shakes himself out of it and slowly puts his arms around you. With a happy sigh, you allow yourself to sink into the embrace. “What are we eating, anyway? I’m hungry.” Nate praises any and every God there could possibly be that he decided to leave the door to the dining room closed. “Whatever you want, we can order,” he answers. “I’m just gonna, uh, get changed.” “I thought you looked fancy,” you grin, letting go of him and dropping onto the couch. “What about Italian?” Hours later, Nate throws away the empty pizza boxes and puts the roses in the bin with them, and then he goes to his bedroom to scream into a pillow. He wants to call you, wants to ask you to not go on a date with that guy. But then he thinks about how excited you looked and he doesn’t call. He doesn’t call, but he almost does, and he thinks that’s a pretty good way to describe how his life is going.

Nate has truly hit rock bottom, which is why he’s scrolling through his phone until he finds the familiar name. “Dogggg!” Tys yells into the phone, because he can never answer the phone like a normal person. “I’m baking chocolate chip cookies!” And Nate is suddenly a little overwhelmed with how much he misses his best friend. “Baking?” he teases. “What kinda mental breakdown are you going through this time?” “Hey, fuck you,” Tys says, but he sounds mellow and not bothered at all. “What’s up?” And Nate has been planning to ease into this conversation, have a little small talk, maybe talk about Toronto and how the coaching change has been working out for Tys, but Tys is his best friend – apart from you – and suddenly he can’t keep it to himself anymore. “I’m in love with Y/N,” he blurts out, and he hears a clank on the other side of the line that sounds suspiciously like Tyson dropping a spoon. “Well, yeah,” Tys comes back, a little too calmly for Nate’s liking. “But I meant like, what’s up with you that’s new, Dogg.” “I need to do something about it,” Nate says, and that seems to get Tyson’s attention, cause he suddenly sounds a lot more interested when he says: “Oh?” “Cause like,” Nate starts, and he knows he’s about to start rambling. “Cause I’m so into her, you know, and I have been for so long, but I don’t think she sees me that way? And maybe if I would’ve done something sooner, she would’ve thought of me as an option, and she wouldn’t be going out with that guy right now..” “Wow hold up,” Tyson interrupts. “Wait, she’s got a boyfriend?” “No!” The force with which that word erupts from Nate’s mouth is maybe a little too telling, cause Tyson immediately goes into ‘calm down Nate’ mode. “Hey, hey, it’s just a date or two, right?” he soothes. “It’s totally not serious yet. And you and her, you’ve got history, dude. She loves you! There’s still time!” “What if she doesn’t love me in that way, though?” Nate asks, and he hates how tiny his voice sounds. “Then she’s got no taste, Nate,” Tyson says, awfully genuine. “You’d be an awesome boyfriend. Hell, you’ve basically been her boyfriend, you two act like a couple all the time.” Nate hadn’t thought of it like that. “Cause like, you’re always hanging out together, right?” Tys continues. “And you bring her to all your events as your plus one. She cooks you dinner at least once a week. You pick her up and drop her off when it’s raining and she doesn’t wanna walk. You always get her a Christmas present. She even bakes your favorite cookies when you’ve had a tough game.” He sounds slightly jealous when he says: “Cookies, bro! That’s true love.” And, well, Nate had always thought that was just a friend thing, but when he thinks about it, he doesn’t really treat any of his other friends that way. Has never picked up his phone at 4 am because Sid was calling, never ran a bath for Tys after a long day. Maybe, in a way, he has been acting like your boyfriend. Except. “We don’t kiss and stuff, though.” Tyson laughs. “And stuff. I bet you want the stuff, huh, bro?” “Shut up,” Nate grumbles, but he’s too thankful for Tyson’s input to put much heat behind it. “Brutes, what do I do?” “You need to complete the package, Dogg,” Tys says, sounding confident. “You’re almost her boyfriend. Now go get that kiss and be it for real.”

Nate is not usually a big drinker, but this, he needs to be super, super drunk for. “Careful,” Burky says, as he watches Nate slam back another shot. “That’s a lot of alcohol, Nate.” “You gonna call Gabe on me?” Nate says, defiant, and Burky shrugs. “No, but if you need to be carried home, I’ll get Z to do it.” That’s enough for Nate to not order another shot right away. “He’s upset because Y/N is here with a guy.” It’s Comphy who speaks, in a dull tone like he’s talking about the weather. Josty, who is with them too, sits up a little straighter. “She came with a guy?” “Shut up,” Nate all but growls. “I didn’t know when I invited her the invitation would be extended.” He really hadn’t; he’d asked you to come out with the boys after the game because he found out you were bringing the guy – Nate purposely forgets his name every time – and he figured he was running out of time. At least if he kept you out all night you couldn’t go home with the guy, and he might find the courage to tell you how he feels. Except then you’d shown up with the guy in tow, and now he’s wondering if it’s possible to drown himself in tequila. He must’ve looked properly miserable for the guys to crowd around him like they are; Gabe went home because he’s a dad now, but Comph and Josty and Burky are all sitting with him, refusing to have fun now that their assistant captain looks ready to commit a crime, and Z and EJ both keep shooting worried glances his way. Nate really doesn’t care. What he cares about is that you’re with with a guy that’s not him, and you’ve barely paid attention to him. He’s just about drunk enough that that annoyance is starting to become unbearable, and just drunk enough that it seems like a good idea to do something about it. “Nate, no…” Burky starts, when Nate stands up, and Comphy reaches for him, but even drunk Nate is quicker than them and he starts pushing his way through the crowd, to where you’re standing with the guy and laughing at something he’s saying. You feel two strong arms wrap around your waist, the grip almost too tight as you’re pushed flat against a muscular chest. For a second, you freeze, ready to fight, but then you smell familiar cologne and you recognize the arms that are wrapped around you in iron grip. “Nate?” you say. “Everything okay?” Nate hums in your ear but it’s not really words; just a low hum that makes something tingle in the pit of your stomach. If only Tom knew the effect Nate has on you, he probably wouldn’t be here. As it is, Tom’s eyes are wide as he stares at Nate. You did tell him you knew people on the team and that’s why you could get tickets to the Avs game so last minute, but you’d forgone the mention that your “contact” is Nathan MacKinnon; for some reason, you didn’t really want those worlds to mix just yet. Maybe that’s why you’d been keeping your distance from Nate, tonight. Normally, Nate isn’t the kinda guy to come chasing you down, but you can smell the alcohol on his breathe and his words slur a little when he says: “Where have you been?” Your heart starts beating a little faster. “Here,” you say, trying to ignore the dark tone to Nate’s voice. To say you’re confused in an understatement: Nate sounds almost angry, but he’s clinging to you like he’s not ever letting you go, so surely he can’t be angry at you. You wish Tom wasn’t here. If you’d been alone, you would’ve dragged Nate outside and talked to your best friend, figured out what’s bothering him, because it’s clear there’s something and you don’t like knowing that he’s carrying it alone. Nate has a tendency to carry the entire world on his shoulders, on his own, even when there’s so many people who would share the burden with him. “Dude,” Tom says, “you’re Nathan MacKinnon!” You feel Nate tense behind you. You know he doesn’t like to be recognized in public spaces but honestly, Tom didn’t speak loudly, and he’s not making a scene, so you wiggle out of Nate’s hold and put your hand on his arm.

Usually, that calms him down. “Yeah, Tom, this is my friend Nate. Nate, this is Tom.” Nate’s face is schooled into perfect indifference as he shakes the hand Tom holds out to him; the only thing betraying that he’s annoyed is the fact that his other, free, hand is balled into a fist and his knuckles are white. “Good to meet you, man,” Tom says. “That was such a nice goal there in the 2nd, holy shit dude! I’m like, such a big fan of you!” You cringe a little as Nate narrows his eyes. “Thanks,” he says, and he could not sound more bored if he tried. Even Tom shifts on his feet and nervously looks towards the floor. Then Nate’s hand finds its way to your lower back, his thumb dipping under your shirt. You feel like all the blood is rushing through your cheeks, and when Tom frowns, you feel like you could pass out. “Nice to meet you,” Nate says, in a tone that makes it clear he’d rather undergo a colonoscopy than ever speak to Tom again. “But can I borrow my girl for a second?” My girl? “Nate, what the…” you sputter, but you’re already being pushed through the crowd towards the exit, and before you know it you’re standing in a dark alley with your back to the brick wall of the club. Nate is standing close, so close you can feel his breath against your cheek when he exhales. His eyes are big and a bit wild, and you wonder if he can hear your heartbeat as clearly as you can. “Nate…” You mean to ask him what’s going on, but for some reason his name comes out of your mouth in a quiet rush of air, and it seems to do something to Nate, who inhales sharply and drops his head a little, his forehead nearly touching yours. “I hate it,” he mutters, the words soft enough that you can only make them out because it’s just the two of you in the silent outside air. “Hate what?” “Seeing you with him.” Those words hit you like a freight train, and all you manage to bring out is a soft “uhm”. “I can’t watch you with him,” Nate whispers. His hands are against the wall but his chest is pressed up against yours, and slowly but surely, he’s leaning in. And that’s when you realize, oh. Nate is going to kiss you. To your own surprise, that doesn’t shock you. It’s not some big thing that throws the world of its axis, that shakes the ground beneath your feet. It’s just a realization and then a soft, warm feeling of comfort spreading through your body. You want him to kiss you so badly, but it’s not like something is exploding, knowing that he wants it too. Instead, it’s like something finally falls into place.

“Y/N?” a voice goes, and you almost whine out loud. Nate jumps back like he’s been stung. He stares at you with wide eyes, the color drained from his face, and then he turns around and all but runs away. Tom watches him leave, then faces you, and in that moment you know four things absolutely certain. Nate was jealous. You’re never going to go on another date with Tom. Nate almost kissed you. And almost wasn’t enough.

Nate wakes up with a banging headache, the taste of dirt in his mouth and 20 missed text messages. Most of the messages are from Tyson, and there’s one from EJ, who is apparently the one that told Tyson about last night in the first place, because his text simply reads: Had to tell Brutes. You need help. Which is probably fair enough. There’s a text from Josty offering support, one from Burky asking if he got home safe, one from Gabe that Nate doesn’t read because he doesn’t want to see Gabe’s disappointed face every time he closes his eyes for the next few days, and then there’s a text from you. We have to talk. Well, fuck. Nate doesn’t have a lot of experience with relationships, but he knows that’s never a good sign. Nate knows that you know him well enough to have figured out that he was drunk last night, so you probably don’t expect him to be up yet. He takes advantage of that time by taking a shower and brushing his teeth at least four times until he can no longer taste the tequila in the back of his throat, making a cup of coffee and having a freak out at his kitchen counter because surely you’re going to tell him to never talk to you again. Not only did he not have the balls to tell you how he feels about you, he also acted like an asshole to a guy you apparently like – although Nate has no clue why, because he seemed boring as hell – and then he nearly kissed you but instead ran away. Not a great track record. It’s nearly noon when he finally gathers up the courage to call you. After all, you’ve given him two years of friendship, so that’s the least he can do. “Hey,” he says softly into the phone when the connection clicks through. “It’s Nate.” “I know,” you answer, and he’s surprised by how light your tone is. “I have caller ID, Nate. Have had it for years.” It throws him off, how normal you sound. There’s nothing in your voice to betray that you’re mad at him, or that you hate him. He almost forgets what he was going to say. Almost, but not quite. “I’m really sorry about last night,” he blurts out. “Do you mind if I come over so we can talk about it?” “Uhm,” you hesitate, and Nate’s heart sinks into the pit of his stomach. “Actually, I’m almost at your apartment.” “Oh.” Nate had not expected that. “Uhm, okay. I’ll be here, then.” You laugh. “Yeah, I hoped you would be. See you in a bit, Nate.” It takes you another 6 minutes to arrive; Nate knows it’s exactly 6 because he stares at the hands of the clock while he waits, while simultaneously thinking of all the possible scenarios in which you could break his heart. When you walk into the kitchen, he feels like he’s about to throw up. “You don’t look great,” is the first thing you say to him. “Have you had breakfast? You know hangovers get worse when you don’t eat.” And that’s... Not quite what Nate was expecting. “Yoohoo, Nate?” You wave your hand in front of his pale face, as Nate stares at you and doesn’t speak. “Are you okay?” “You hate me,” Nate blurts out then, and instantly his eyes fix on the floor in shame. “Or, you should.” You frown. “Why? Because you were a jealous dick last night?” Nate’s face turns from white to a bright shade of pink. You smile, walk to Nate who’s sitting on a barstool at the counter, and carefully push open his knees, so you can slide in between his legs. If Nate’s eyes go any wider, you worry they might fall out. “Last night,” you repeat, “you were jealous. Of Tom.” It’s not a question, but Nate still nods, avoiding your eyes as he does. “And then you were going to kiss me.” Not a question either, and this time Nate doesn’t respond. “Nate,” you say softly, and the warmth in your tone must be what finally gets Nate to look up at you, his eyes locking with yours. “Do you still want to kiss me?” “I do,” Nate says. His voice is a little shaky but he needs to get this out, because he needs you to know this. “I always want to kiss you.” “Why haven’t you?” you ask. The answer is not really an answer, but it means everything anyway. “I almost did,” Nate says. “So many times, Y/N. So many times I almost did.” “Almost, almost,” you repeat, rolling your eyes, and then you slide your hands behind Nate’s neck and kiss him. He almost stumbles, his hands gripping your waist as if he’s afraid he’ll fall right onto the floor if he doesn’t have something to hold onto. But he’s kissing you back right away, his mouth soft yet forceful at the same time. Like he’s never going to stop kissing you. You don’t think you ever want him to.

It’s late at night and the streets of Denver are quiet beneath Nate’s apartment. He’s laying on his back and you’re draped across his chest, naked bodies tangled together under the sheets. He’s not sure if you’re asleep; your breathing is shallow and even, but every now and then your fingers tighten around where they’re wrapped around his arm, and he wonders if you’re dreaming, or simply checking if he’s still there. As if he would ever leave. Nate can’t help himself; he lightly presses his lips against your hair, the ghost of a kiss against your skin. You hum softly. “Nate?” “Yeah,” he whispers. “It’s me.” A lazy giggle escapes your lips. “Thank God it’s not someone else.” The silence returns, but this time it’s heavy with something Nate knows you’re not saying. “What are you thinking about?” he mumbles, tracing circles on the naked skin of your back. Your answer shakes something inside of him. “That I almost didn’t get to have this.” He thinks of all the times he almost said something to you but didn’t, and curses himself for all the time lost. “Almost didn’t, but we did, and that’s what matters, right?” he speaks into the darkness.

You smile.

You know you’re not dreaming, but you almost can’t believe you aren’t.

Almost.

#nathan mackinnon #colorado avalanche #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl imagines

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bananaofswifts · 4 years

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Taylor Swift’s ‘Folklore’: Album Review

It’s hard to remember any contemporary pop superstar that has indulged in a more serious, or successful, act of sonic palette cleansing than Swift has with her eighth album, a highly subdued but rich affair written and recorded in quarantine conditions.

While most of us spent the last four months putting on some variation of “the quarantine 15,” Taylor Swift has been secretly working on the “Folklore” 16. Sprung Thursday night with less than a day’s notice, her eighth album is a fully rounded collection of songs that sounds like it was years in the interactive making, not the product of a quarter-year’s worth of file-sharing from splendid isolation. Mind you, the words “pandemic hero” should probably be reserved for actual frontline workers and not topline artistes. But there’s a bit of Rosie the Riveter spirit in how Swift has become the first major pop artist to deliver a first-rank album that went from germination to being completely locked down in the midst of a national lockdown.

The themes and tone of “Folklore,” though, are a little less “We can do it!” and a little more “Can we do it?” Because this new collection is Swift’s most overtly contemplative — as opposed to covertly reflective — album since the fan favorite “Red.” Actually, that’s an understatement. “Red” seems like a Chainsmokers album compared to the wholly banger-free “Folklore,” which lives up to the first half of its title by divesting itself of any lingering traces of Max Martin-ized dance-pop and presenting Swift, afresh, as your favorite new indie-electro-folk/chamber-pop balladeer. For fans that relished these undertones of Swift’s in the past, it will come as a side of her they know and love all too well. For anyone who still has last year’s “You Need to Calm Down” primarily in mind, it will come as a jolting act of manual downshifting into actually calming down. At least this one won’t require an album-length Ryan Adams remake to convince anyone that there’s songwriting there. The best comparison might be to take “Clean,” the unrepresentative denouement of “1989,” and… imagine a whole album of that. Really, it’s hard to remember any pop star in our lifetimes that has indulged in a more serious act of sonic palette cleansing.

The tone of this release won’t come as a midnight shock to anyone who took spoilers from the announcement earlier in the day that a majority of the tracks were co-written with and produced by the National’s Aaron Dessner, or that the man replacing Panic! at the Disco’s Brendon Urie as this album’s lone duet partner is Bon Iver. No matter how much credit you may have given Swift in the past for thinking and working outside of her box, a startled laugh may have been in order for just how unexpected these names felt on the bingo card of musical dignitaries you expected to find the woman who just put out “Me!” working with next. But her creative intuition hasn’t led her into an oil-and-water collaboration yet. Dessner turns out to be an ideal partner, with as much virtuosic, multi-instrumental know-how (particularly useful in a pandemic) as the most favored writer-producer on last year’s “Lover” album, Jack Antonoff.

He, too, is present and accounted for on “Folklore,” to a slightly lesser extent, and together Antonoff and Dessner make for a surprisingly well-matched support-staff tag team. Swift’s collabs with the National’s MVP clearly set the tone for the project, with a lot of fingerpicking, real strings, mellow drum programming and Mellotrons. You can sense Antonoff, in the songs he did with Swift, working to meet the mood and style of what Dessner had done or would be doing with her, and bringing out his own lesser-known acoustic and lightly orchestrated side. As good of a mesh as the album is, though, it’s usually not too hard to figure out who worked on which song — Dessner’s contributions often feel like nearly neo-classical piano or guitar riffs that Swift toplined over, while Antonoff works a little more toward buttressing slightly more familiar sounding pop melodies of Swift’s, dressed up or down to meet the more somber-sounding occasion.

For some fans, it might take a couple of spins around the block with this very different model to become re-accustomed to how there’s still the same power under the hood here. And that’s really all Swift, whose genius for conversational melodies and knack for giving every chorus a telling new twist every time around remain unmistakable trademarks. Thematically, it’s a bit more of a hodgepodge than more clearly autobiographical albums like “Lover” and “Reputation” before it have been. Swift has always described her albums as being like diaries of a certain period of time, and a few songs here obviously fit that bill, as continuations of the newfound contentment she explored in the last album and a half. But there’s also a higher degree of fictionalization than perhaps she’s gone for in the past, including what she’s described as a trilogy of songs revolving around a high school love triangle. The fact that she refers to herself, by name, as “James” in the song “Betty” is a good indicator that not everything here is ripped from today’s headlines or diary entries.

But, hell, some of it sure is. Anyone looking for lyrical Easter eggs to confirm that Swift still draws from her own life will be particularly pleased by the song “Invisible String,” a sort of “bless the broken roads that led me to you” type song that finds fulfillment in a current partner who once wore a teal shirt while working as a young man in a yogurt shop, even as Swift was dreaming of the perfect romance hanging out in Nashville’s Centennial Park. (A quick Google search reveals that, yes, Joe Alwyn was once an essential worker in London’s fro-yo industry.) There’s also a sly bit of self-referencing as Swift follows this golden thread that fatefully linked them: “Bad was the blood of the song in the cab on your first trip to L.A.,” she sings. The “dive bar” that was first established as the scene of a meet-cute two albums ago makes a reappearance in this song, too.

As for actual bad blood? It barely features into “Folklore,” in any substantial, true-life-details way, counter to her reputation for writing lyrics that are better than revenge. But when it does, woe unto he who has crossed the T’s and dotted the I’s on a contract that Swift feels was a double-cross. At least, we can strongly suspect what or who the actual subject is of “Mad Woman,” this album’s one real moment of vituperation. “What did you think I’d say to that?” Swift sings in the opening lines. “Does a scorpion sting when fighting back? / They strike to kill / And you know I will.” Soon, she’s adding gas to the fire: “Now I breathe flames each time I talk / My cannons all firing at your yacht / They say ‘move on’ / But you know I won’t / … women like hunting witches, too.” A coup de gras is delivered: “It’s obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together.” It’s a message song, and the message is: Swift still really wants her masters back, in 2020. And is really still going to want them back in 2021, 2022 and 2023, too. Whether or not the neighbors of the exec or execs she is imagining really mouth the words “f— you” when these nemeses pull up in their respective driveways may be a matter of projection, but if Swift has a good time imagining it, many of her fans will too.

(A second such reference may be found in the bonus track, “The Lakes,” which will only be found on deluxe CD and vinyl editions not set to arrive for several weeks. There, she sings, “What should be over burrowed under my skin / In heart-stopping waves of hurt / I’ve come too far to watch some namedropping sleaze / Tell me what are my words worth.” The rest of “The Lakes” is a fantasy of a halcyon semi-retirement in the mountains — in which “I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet / Because I haven’t moved in years” — “and not without my muse.” She even imagines red roses growing out of a tundra, “with no one around to tweet it”; fantasies of a social media-free utopia are really pandemic-rampant.)

The other most overtly “confessional” song here is also the most third-person one, up to a telling point. In “The Last Great American Dynasty,” Swift explores the rich history of her seaside manse in Rhode Island, once famous for being home to the heir to the Standard Oil fortune and, after he died, his eccentric widow. Swift has a grand old time identifying with the women who decades before her made fellow coast-dwellers go “there goes the neighborhood”: “There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen / She had a marvelous time ruining everything,” she sings of the long-gone widow, Rebekah. “Fifty years is a long time / Holiday House sat quietly on that beach / Free of women with madness, their men and bad habits / Then it was bought by me… the loudest woman this town has ever seen.” (A fine madness among proud women is another recurring theme.)

But, these examples aside, the album is ultimately less obviously self-referential than most of Swift’s. The single “Cardigan,” which has a bit of a Lana Del Rey feel (even though it’s produced by Dessner, not Del Rey’s partner Antonoff) is part of Swift’s fictional high school trilogy, along with “August” and “Betty.” That sweater shows up again in the latter song, in which Swift takes on the role of a 17-year boy publicly apologizing for doing a girl wrong — and which kicks into a triumphant key change at the end that’s right out of “Love Story,” in case anyone imagines Swift has completely moved on from the spirit of early triumphs.

“Exile,” the duet with Bon Iver, recalls another early Swift song, “The Last Time,” which had her trading verses with Gary Lightbody of Snow Patrol. Then, as now, she gives the guy the first word, and verse, if not the last; it has her agreeing with her partner on some aspects of their dissolution (“I couldn’t turn things around”/”You never turned things around”) and not completely on others (“Cause you never gave a warning sign,” he sings; “I gave so many signs,” she protests).

Picking two standouts — one from the contented pile, one from the tormented — leads to two choices: “Illicit Affairs” is the best cheating song since, well, “Reputation’s” hard-to-top “Getaway Car.” There’s less catharsis in this one, but just as much pungent wisdom, as Swift describes the more mundane details of maintaining an affair (“Tell your friends you’re out for a run / You’ll be flushed when you return”) with the soul-destroying ones of how “what started in beautiful rooms ends with meetings in parking lots,” as “a drug that only worked the first few hundred times” wears off in clandestine bitterness.

But does Swift have a corker of a love song to tip the scales of the album back toward sweetness. It’s not “Invisible String,” though that’s a contender. The champion romance song here is “Peace,” the title of which is slightly deceptive, as Swift promises her beau, or life partner, that that quality of tranquility is the only thing she can’t promise him. If you like your love ballads realistic, it’s a bit of candor that renders all the compensatory vows of fidelity and courage all the more credible and deeply lovely. “All these people think love’s for show / But I would die for you in secret.”

That promise of privacy to her intended is a reminder that Swift is actually quite good at keeping things close to the vest, when she’s not spilling all — qualities that she seems to value and uphold in about ironically equal measure. Perhaps it’s in deference to the sanctity of whatever she’s holding dear right now that there are more outside narratives than before in this album — including a song referring to her grandfather storming the beaches in World War II — even as she goes outside for fresh collaborators and sounds, too. But what keeps you locked in, as always, is the notion of Swift as truth-teller, barred or unbarred, in a world of pop spin. She’s celebrating the masked era by taking hers off again.

Taylor Swift “Folklore” Republic Records

#taylor swift #folklore #review

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fortheloveoffanfic · 4 years

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Put Me In a Movie

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- its been a while, I haven’t known how to carry the story forward, but recently had a burst of inspiration and wrote the next three chapters. Judging from the last chapter’s feedback, the events of this one isn’t going to be too satisfying.)

Summary Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Warnings- Angst, angst and more angst

Chapter 14- Cut The Ropes And Let Me Fall

2 Months Later Filming had been through with Jackson’s yelling, “And that’s a wrap!” At the end of the last scene. The camera had stopped rolling, and wouldn’t again unless the need for re shoots arose and by the end of the week, Y/n and Keanu were carded to fly back to Los Angeles. But that wouldn’t be before a photo shoot for promotional pictures and the wrap party the night before their flights.

By then, they’d managed to smoothen things out yet again, though, they hadn’t been left void of tension; every now and then, they’d reach a fork in the road, reminding them that things weren’t what they used to be. He’d say something a little too harsh or Y/n would get a bit too close, and for a few days, until one of them had decided that it was time to forget, they’d toe around each other, desperately avoiding any kind of serious talk.

But, despite the awkwardness, things were surprisingly good too. The highs were higher than they used to be. Keanu had mostly forgone his suite, falling asleep next to Y/n most nights, and they would wake up tangled in each other’s embrace the next morning. It was nice, and was worth the bursts of tension, that served as tormenting punctuation.

“You look cute in this,” Keanu slowly sauntered towards Y/n in the now empty dressing room, immediately taking her in his arms, bending to nuzzle her cheek, "You should keep this blouse," he tugged on the fabric of the lace crop top, which generously boasted her cleavage, the color standing out on her skin.

"Maybe I'll ask if I can," Y/n giggled, looking at their reflections in the lengthy mirror mounted to the wall. Her manicured nails skimmed his forearms, clad in leather, leaning her head back on his shoulder.

Quickly kissing her, Keanu let his touch invade the scalloped hem, inching upwards suggestively, "How long do we have before the shoot?" The mumbled inquisition was muffled as his ministrations traveled lower; behind her ear lobe, lower down her jaw and along the delicate column of her neck.

"Not long enough," with wavering restraint, Y/n tried to untangle herself from Keanu's affectionate embrace. He'd still insisted on keeping their entanglement under wraps, hiding things from the press and their co workers. Of course, there'd been a few close calls; pictures taken displaying compromising positions and mummers on social media, but even then, their respective publicists had been able to spin the stories to suit their narratives. Y/n and Keanu were close, comfortable friends, who'd grown used to intimacy on set; there was nothing more between them. Each time, it had stung and Y/n couldn't help but feel like his dirty little secret during those periods. But alas, if she wanted him, she'd have to compromise. That was how relationships worked, right?

Even if what they shared was never really a relationship.

Wiggling and turning in his embrace, Y/n gently pushed on Keanu’s chest, biting half her lip as her eyes sparkled, clearly wanting things to continue, just as much as he did, “As much as I want to, we have maybe ten minutes-”

“I’m sure we can make that work,” Keanu leaned in, trying to kiss her again, “Besides, who cares if we're a little late huh? We’re the stars babygirl, they aren’t gonna start without us. Now come on,” dismissing her objecting, outstretched arms, Keanu closed the space, finding her lips in a breath-stealing, hungry kiss, already pawing as the button of her jeans.

“Is the door locked?” Breathless, Y/n spoke against her lips, smiling at how his beard scratched her face. Y/n was already in the process of finding the lapels of his jacket, ready to push it off his broad shoulders, when, answering her question instead of Keanu, was the sound of someone opening the door.

“Places in- '' Jackson stopped abruptly upon seeing them, and frazzled they instantly sprang apart. Immediately, Keanu folded his arms, backing away hastily to put some space between them while Y/n slumped against the edge of the counter, where various products had remained scattered. After months of hiding things, they’d gotten caught on their very last day on set. “I knew it!” Smirking defiantly, Jackson propped himself on the door-frame, “You two,” he pointed between them, “Are good actors, but terrible liars. Especially you,” he pointed accusingly to Keanu, who went all red in the cheeks, barely saved by his scruff covering half his face.

“What?” Y/n croaked, her throat suddenly dry and her voice hoarse. She was fine with being discovered, but Keanu, she couldn’t tell what he’d do when they were alone. Maybe he’d decide that she wasn’t worth the risk. Maybe she should get to decide if he was worth another round of tears. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew,” maybe their resident mad genius wasn’t as mad and out of touch as they’d made him out to be. It was always the ones you didn’t suspect anyway. “Those little looks that you two share, the very realistic kisses. At first, I thought I’d struck a chemistry goldmine,” chuckling, Jackson shook his head, pushing up his glasses with his pointer, “But there was something about the way you hold her,” he turned to Keanu, his features softening, “I’d never seen in something,” making an elaborate gesture with his hands, Jackson searched the ceiling for the right word, “Manufactured.”

“I…..” She could tell he was flustered and uncomfortable, even from where she stood, almost two feet away. Keanu would have done everything to keep their so-called relationship in a box, away from the outside, away from something that would make it real.

Saving Keanu the trouble of having to find an excuse to deter his suspicions, Jackson's ability to be sociable left as quickly as it came, and in no time, he was back to his skittish, borderline intolerable self, “Well,” he clapped his hands dramatically, “I hope you two can keep up this momentum, it’ll be fantastic for press. We can tell the media that working together sparked your love and now, you’re inseparable, I’ll run in by the publicists,” already he was walking out of the room, expecting Y/n and Keanu to follow him, something they’d only caught up on when he’d already started down the long hall. Before they joined Jackson, Y/n tried to catch Keanu’s gaze, hoping to gauge his reaction, but he was actively avoiding her face, and that in itself was enough to tell her that he was not okay with what had gone down.

“Your relationship is going to be a great selling point,” he continued, not caring for their objections, his mind already made up, “But anyways,” they’d just broken off onto the main floor, where things were already set up for the photo shoot, “We should get into the shoot, we’ve only got this guy for a couple hours, Gary had an emergency back home,” Jackson explained briskly, “But thankfully, Lucas here is an amazing photographer. Lucas!” Jackson snapped his fingers, beckoning over a tall, blonde figure.

When Y/n saw his face, she gasped, and she could have sworn that it was impossible for her jaw to not hit the floor. As if things couldn’t get worse. “It’s actually just…..” upon seeing her, he seemed just as shocked, though Y/n supposed that he should have had the upper hand, considering he should have known what movie he’d be doing the pictures for. “It’s just Luke,” he finished, shaking his head, looking bewildered, “Y/n.”

“Luke, you’re….” at a loss for words, Y/n couldn’t help but long for a spontaneous split in the earth to swallow her up and dump her straight into hell. At least there she wouldn’t have to deal with awkward situations with her current ‘sort of’ boyfriend and a ‘sort of ex-boyfriend’ that she’d never officially broken up with. “You’re doing the shoot?”

Clearing his throat, he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly as uncomfortable with it as she was, “I am, Y/n-”

“Well, lady and gents,” Jackson interrupted, apparently not noting the tension, “We’ve only got this place for a few more hours, so we should get started.”

“Yeah, okay,” Keanu was the one who’d spoken, and it was the first time since he’d been cut off by Jackson in the dressing in the dressing room that he’d even opened his mouth, two words said in a tone that was perfectly u readable, “Let’s do this,” without another word, he walked off in the direction of the set up, not even offering a backwards glance.

Y/n was about to break off from the group and do the same, when, just as Jackson moved away, Luke grabbed her arm in a loose grip, “Hey,” he offered her a faltering, faint smile, “Can we talk after?”

His eyes were pleading, though, just as Y/n was going to tell him that they could, Jackson circled back, “Oh and Lucas,” he’d already completely forgotten, or perhaps he just wasn’t listening, Luke’s clarification of his name, “Get some some good ones of the happy couple.”

“Couple?” His gaze still penetrated Y/n’s sickened expression, though his brows now falling as hope drained from his face, “Right”

“Luke-”

“You know what?” He mustered up a brave face to hide his hurt, letting go of her arm and taking two steps back, “Never mind, let’s just get this done, okay?” And when she nodded, not really knowing how to remedy anything that had happened in the past thirty minutes, he turned away, “Great.”

Great?

No, it wasn’t great. Not really.

Music throbbed in his chest and the air was ignited by a buzz fueled by freely flowing alcohol and the relaxed, carefree demeanor of the cast and crew alike. Filming was finally over, they’d put in the hard work and they'd reap the rewards in about four or five months. He should have been enjoying the party like everyone else, but Keanu just couldn't.

So, instead, he'd gone out through the back of the club, lighting a cigarette between his lips and holding a half finished beer in his free hand. Since earlier that day, when Jackson had caught him and Y/n almost in the act, his mind had been bombarded with a flurry of thoughts. He was the one that had wanted what they had hidden, while simultaneously, Keanu was also the one making it glaringly obvious. That wasn't what he wanted; Y/n was making a fool of him, and fools got hurt.

Keanu didn't want to get hurt.

Things had only gone even further downhill during the photo shoot and Keanu could tell that it was taking everything in Luke to not take a swing at him. Keanu couldn't blame him, if the roles were reversed he might have done the same. Y/n was……..absolutely astounding. She was breathtakingly gorgeous, incredibly intelligent and had a one in a million personality. She worth punches. She was worth more than he could give. Because as hard as Keanu had tried to convince himself that they could work, he knew that he was just postponing the inevitable. He couldn't be with her forever, he wasn't the forever kind of man and her affections already ran deeper than his by far.

He couldn't do that to her anymore.

The fun was over.

Taking a pull from his smoke, blowing out a white puff seconds later, Keanu barely turned when the heavy iron door behind him in the dark alley way dragged open with a definitive wail. He knew who it was without even looking, he could smell her perfume, clinging to her satin skin and the shimmery black, mini slip dress that she'd slid into before they left her hotel room. He'd had her in that dress, while it was bunched up over her stomach and she was pressed against the wall of the living room, just before they'd left for the party. If only Keanu had known it was the last time he'd lay hands on Y/n again, he might have savored it more.

"You've been out here for a while," he knew that she'd picked up on his pensive mood a while ago, and though he hadn't asked, and not had she told him, Keanu could tell that there was something weighing heavy on Y/n's mind.

"I wanted a cigarette," he huffed, blowing out another cloud, finally glancing her way when she came to stand beside him, staying a few inches away. "Shouldn't you be inside?"

"Yeah," she chortled halfheartedly, rolling her eyes, taking a punctuating sip from her red disposable cup, "Shouldn't you?"

"I told you-"

"I heard you before," when Y/n cut him off, Keanu could sense a new malice in her voice, and growing defensive, he wondered where it came from.

"What's your problem?" He rolled his eyes, taking one last drag from the stub before tossing it to the ground and putting it out with the toe of his worn brown boot.

As it seemed, Keanu wasn't the only one putting up unwarranted defenses that night, as Y/n shot back, "My problem?" Moving around so he'd be forced to look at her, Y/n licked her lips, shaking her head, "You're the one who's been icing his girlfriend out."

And just like that, just as he fired his last, shitty attempt of a defense mechanism, Keanu chuckled dryly, not even thinking as he spoke, "You're not my girlfriend." Though, the minute he caught his foot in his mouth, Keanu tried to clarify, "Fuck, that's not-"

But it was too late, it was already out there and Keanu's words had hit Y/n like a bullet to the chest, "What?" Her anger, chased with insurmountable hurt and swirling confusion flared, driving what came next, "That's not what you meant?" She mocked, trying to suppress a sniffle, "What did you mean, huh? Did you mean that I'm just some girl you're fucking cause its convenient? Or did you mean that you were still seeing were this is going, and so far, it's not going like I'm your girlfriend," she took a breath, gathering her thoughts, "Well newsflash Keanu, maybe that's a good thing, maybe I don't want to be your fucking girlfriend!"

Her words were angry, but he could see past it, the cracks in her exterior shining through to show her pain. The tears in her ears, the break in her throat. Yet still, he didn't sympathize. If they were going to be like that then it was every man for themselves. "Well maybe that's good!" He yelled, not caring if anyone would hear them over the music, "Cause this isn't working for me."

"This isn't working for you?" Y/n repeated incredulously, "It was working for today, when you wanted to fuck me over a makeup table. It was working for you when we fucked while the car was waiting for us downstairs, right before we came here. God you're so…..ugh!" Through with it, ready to just be alone with her hurt, Y/n tossed her cup at him, watching as it bounced off his chest, the alcohol soaking his front, "You know, everyone thinks you're such a nice guy, but really, you're just another asshole. No wonder you're alone."

"I-" But his argument was muted, for in just seconds, Y/n was gone through the door again, slamming it on her way in, leaving Keanu to curse at the cold air as he spun and tossed his bottle to the grimy wall, the smashing filling his ears. That was it, they were over, and on his terms too. He'd been the one to pick the fight, fan the flame. Keanu wanted that, he wanted to be done so he could move on without falling too deep. And for a while, he'd told himself it would be easy because really, he'd barely let Y/n scratch his surface.

A breakup was what he wanted. But as he stood there, face hot and eyes stinging by surprise, Keanu couldn't quite decipher why it hurt so bad. Why his breath had gone so ragged, why tears were falling down his face. Why his heart felt like it was breaking.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @paanchu786 @thesadvampire @fanficsrusz @fickensteinn @ladyreapermc @babygirltaina @septimaseverina @snatchedbylele @omg-imagine @21stcenturyyfoxx @magnificentclodpiebanana @allie1804-fan @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #john wick #john wick x reader #keanu reeves fanfiction #ff #fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #fanfic #put me in a movie #chapter 14 #john wick fanfic #angst

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ariadnekurosaki · 4 years

Text

Beneath the Pale Moonlight

Prompt: IchiRuki Day 5, beneath the pale moonlight - a romantic getaway

Rating: G

Series: Deathberry Family

Read below, or on AO3.

Beneath the Pale Moonlight

Being in a long-distance relationship isn’t easy. Being in a long-distance relationship when the love of your life lives in another world is even harder. But they make it work, through sheer stubbornness and the shocking permissiveness of both Captain-Commander Kyouraku and Rukia’s older brother, Byakuya.

It’s temporary: Ichigo is in his first year of studies at university and the knowledge that he will move to Soul Society afterwards and be at Rukia’s side permanently burns hot in his mind. It drives him to plan for the maximum course load every semester, to study late into the night and type essays until his fingers ache. It drives him to plan out a course of study where he will graduate a full year early – and join Rukia that much sooner. His advisor doesn’t like it, but Ichigo has explained that he has family obligations that cannot be delayed.

But the separation in the meantime hurts, as he and Rukia go weeks at a time without seeing one another. Soul Society needs her: they are still removing rubble from the streets, still rebuilding entire divisions from the ashes. The Thirteenth Division is no different, with the death of Ukitake still raw and the unseated ranks decimated by the Sternritter.

Ukitake’s death is the reason that Ichigo is in Soul Society tonight, having used the official pass provided by Kyouraku. It’s the first anniversary of the man’s death, of his sacrifice. His death, Ichigo knows, passed largely unremarked amid the chaos of war. He also knows that Rukia has been working herself into the ground as acting captain ever since, sans lieutenant.

He barely has to wave in greeting to the guards outside of the division building before they step aside to let him pass; despite the time between their reunions, Ichigo is known here, and in fact one guard leans closer to murmur, “She’s still in her office, Kurosaki-sama.”

Sama. Ichigo is never sure how he feels about being addressed as Kurosaki-sama, though all of Soul Society credits him with killing Yhwach and saving them once more. He picks his way past rubble and the half-rebuilt barracks to the offices, which are intact. Well, mostly intact – there’s still a hole in the ceiling of Rukia’s office, he sees, with a bucket on the floor to catch rain.

The thoughts of the rebuild, of the continued devastation, leave him when Ichigo sees her. Rukia is working by lamplight, face pale and shadows deep beneath her eyes. Her hair is getting long; it’s past her shoulders, and longer than it was the day they first met. She looks up when he steps closer, reiryoku gentle against hers. “Ichigo. I didn’t expect you,” she murmurs, and sets her calligraphy brush down.

Ichigo smiles down at her gently and when she stands, he pulls her close, lips brushing hers chastely. “I know I’m a few weeks early. And I also know that you’re working yourself too hard and need to take a break,” he says quietly.

“Says the man who could carry luggage beneath his eyes,” Rukia jokes, but her voice is tired and she leans into him when he slides his arm around her.

“Yeah. S’why I’m taking us both away for a couple of days,” Ichigo explains.

“Fool. I don’t have time to go away, and neither do you. What about class?”

He just slides his hand up her back and rubs lightly, where he can feel the stress set into her muscles. “It’s the weekend, and I got an excused absence from my Monday class,” he explains. “I told Sentarou that I’m stealing you away until then.”

“You told my subordinate that you’re taking me away?” Rukia repeats and pulls back from him.

But Ichigo just keeps his hand on her back. “After he told me that you’ve been working until dawn all the time, yeah. Just for a couple of days, Rukia. You need the rest, and I know it’s…a difficult few days.” Her eyes are on his again, and he says, “Come on. I promise you’ll feel better afterwards.”

Finally, she sighs and offers him a nod. “Where are we going?” Rukia asks.

“The World of the Living. I found a quiet place that I think you’ll like,” Ichigo explains, and though he steps back from her, he holds out his hand for her to take.

“Right now?”

“Right now.” Then her hand slides into his, and Ichigo’s smile is soft as they flash-step to the Senkaimon and then pass through its gates into the World of the Living.

Ichigo has thought of everything, he’s pretty sure. He has a gigai ready for her courtesy Urahara, one dressed for the early-summer warmth in a fluttery pale blue dress. His car is parked just outside the shoten, and he ushers her into it, then sets off on the drive outside of Karakura and northwest. “It’s just a couple of hours’ drive,” he explains as they leave the city. “You can sleep if you want.”

Rukia hums under her breath and drifts off, leaving Ichigo to navigate the highway and then the rural roads to a small town nestled in the hills. It’s only mid-afternoon in the gensei, and Rukia wakes as he parks the car outside of a pretty, quaint ryokan at the edge of town. “Where are we?” she asks as she stretches.

“We’re not far from Karakura but it’s a lot less built up. There are hiking trails and campgrounds, and the river’s pretty,” Ichigo explains as he gets out of the car and comes around to her side to open the car door. As Rukia brushes the wrinkles from her dress Ichigo grabs a suitcase from the trunk. “I brought some of your things from my apartment,” he explains when Rukia looks meaningfully at the luggage.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and follows Ichigo into the plaster-walled building. They take their shoes off and check in at reception before being led to their room, a pleasantly decorated space in the back corner of the building. When the proprietor has left them with the key and a tray of tea, Rukia turns in a circle around the room. The large bed is modern and made with a crisp-looking sapphire-hued duvet, while the pale wood nightstands hold simple, rectangular lamps. Through an open door she can see a bathing room and water closet, while the other is clearly a closet in which to hang their clothes. The floor beneath their feet is covered in tatami mats. “Where’d you find out about this place?”

“Hm, one of my professors mentioned it. I just wanted to bring you somewhere quiet,” Ichigo murmurs and sets the luggage down. He slides his arms around her and bends down to kiss her forehead. “I know today’s hard for you. I…have a plan for that after dinner if you’re up to it.”

She stiffens in his arms but leans her head against his chest. “You remembered.”

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s something that’s usually done during Bon, but I thought – since Soul Society is still so chaotic and hasn’t…”

She leans up and kisses him lightly. “Thank you, Ichigo,” she whispers.

Dinner in the ryokan’s dining room is quiet. Ichigo is the youngest guest there by over a decade, and Rukia’s gigai puts her in the same category, but no one remarks on it. There are only a few other guests despite the good weather: two elderly couples in traditional yukata and another couple in their thirties wearing more modern clothes. Even with just the eight of them, the meal that the ryokan’s staff serve is delicious. Afterwards, Ichigo retrieves a bag from their room and leads her outside, beneath the just-rising moon. The path to the river is well-lit, but Ichigo hands Rukia a flashlight just in case. They walk down to the water in silence, not touching but close to one another.

“I think this is a good spot,” Ichigo says when they reach a pretty, painted wooden footbridge over a narrow stretch of water. He kneels and opens the bag, revealing two white water lanterns fitted with votive candles. “We should each light one.” He pulls a book of matches from his pocket and offers them to her.

“What are these?” Rukia asks quietly.

“Water lanterns. Here in the World of the Living we release them into the water as a way of honoring and remembering the dead. I thought – we could remember Captain Ukitake together.” It sounds stupid to him as he says it; it’s just the two of them, nothing like the Bon Festival, and Rukia knew her captain so much better than he did.

But Rukia strikes a match and kneels to light the votive in the first lantern, then hands the matchbook to Ichigo. He repeats the process with his lantern, and gently lowers it into the water so that it can float slowly downstream. Rukia takes a deep breath and places her lantern in the water as well. They stand and watch the glowing lanterns float, their light reflecting in the water.

Ichigo wraps an arm around Rukia and they stand on the footbridge, beneath the pale moonlight, until the moon has moved across the sky and the lanterns are out of sight. Once or twice someone passes by them, but mostly they are alone, and after a while Ichigo feels Rukia’s shoulders begin to shake beneath his arm. He doesn’t say anything, though he can see the silvery tear tracks on her cheeks, just tucks her closer and lets her take all the time she needs.

“We should go back inside,” Rukia whispers finally, and self-consciously rubs at the tearstains on her cheeks. “It’s getting late.”

“Yeah,” Ichigo agrees and lets her out from beneath his arm. He rolls the bag up and shoves it into his back pocket. They walk back along the path, fingers twining together, and let themselves back into the ryokan. So late at night the building is quiet, and they take care not to disrupt the silence as they walk to their bedroom. They get ready for bed in silence, although Rukia casts him an appreciative look at the fact that he has packed pajamas for her. He half-expects her to keep her distance – they haven’t done that, yet, although they’ve shared a bed.

But when Ichigo turns off the lights and they climb into the luxurious bed together, Rukia tucks herself close to him. It isn’t sexual: he can still feel the occasional tremble in her body against his. So, he kisses her forehead and keeps his arms around her and his legs twined with hers until her breathing evens out. Then he finally closes his own eyes and lets the sound of the river through the open window lull him to sleep as well.

#ichiruki #irweek2020 #ichigo x rukia #bleach fanfiction #deathberry family

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spine-buster · 5 years

Text

Alone, Together | Chapter 30 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: We are officially in the thirties in terms of chapters...CAN YOU BELIEVE?! I can’t. Let me know what you think of the chapter!

Bee looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing out her spaghetti strap dress striped with pink and green and navy. She’d curled her hair slightly and wore some bright coloured lipstick to reflect the great weather and the happy event: Aryne’s baby shower. She was having it at McLean House within the Estates of Sunnybrook, and Bee couldn’t be more excited. Ashley had just had her own baby shower last weekend, so for a solid week, Bee was occupied with all things baby. She stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom and took a picture of her complete outfit, sending it to Ashley to make sure it was okay (who replied with emphatic and all-caps “HAWT” and “WERK IT” texts) before texting it to Morgan.

Before she was even able to grab her Chanel bag and make sure everything she needed was in there, her phone began to ring and Morgan’s name flashed across the screen.

“You look beautiful,” he said, not bothering with saying hello after she did. “You have Aryne’s baby shower today, right?”

“Yeah. And thank you. The dress looks good?”

“The dress looks amazing,” he stressed. “You know I think you look beautiful in everything.”

Bee couldn’t help but blush. “What are you up to today? How was Andy’s birthday yesterday?”

“It was fun! We played a round of golf in Whistler in the morning and then went to Blue Water Café in Yaletown to have dinner. He got a little drunk off the wine,” Morgan laughed slightly. “Haven’t seen him drunk in years.”

“Did he like my gift?” Bee asked hesitantly, referring to the coffee mug and tie she bought for him. Morgan had taken it to Vancouver with him already wrapped when he left.

“He loved it. They missed you last night.”

“They know I’ll be there at the end of July, right?” she asked, referring to the two week trip to Vancouver she and Morgan had planned for her two weeks vacation. They had decided on it before he left and had booked the tickets already. Bee was excited to go back.

“I’m keeping it a surprise from them,” he said. “He’s coming back from the washroom right now. I’ll talk to you later okay?”

“Okay. Tell him I say hi,” she said. “I love you. And I miss you.”

“I love you and miss you too, Bumblebee. Have fun today. You look beautiful.”

Almost immediately after hanging up, her phone buzzed for a text from Ashley saying she was waiting out front. Bee rushed in packing some last minute things into her purse before strapping on her heels, grabbing her present, and meeting Ashley outside. She slid into the passenger’s seat and kissed her across the console. In the backseat, she saw Sydney Esiason quickly typing away on her phone before setting it down on her lap to smile at her.

“You look adorable!” Ashley exclaimed as she drove away, taking another look at Bee in her dress. “Sydney, you remember Bee McTavish?”

“Of course! The one who works!” Sydney smiled from the backseat. “It’s…TD Bank?”

“Scotiabank,” Bee corrected her politely. “It’s nice to see you again Sydney. How’s the wedding planning going?”

“All done! Just a few weeks to go,” she smiled. “It’s too bad this one can’t fly to the Hamptons to be there,” Sydney nodded her head towards Ashley in the front seat. “Everyone else is going to be there.” Morgan never received a wedding invitation, even though other members of the team had. Bee figured it was because he and Matt never became close during Matt’s time on the Leafs. Not that Bee cared – she had no idea who these people were besides her brief encounter with Sydney months ago during lunch with Aryne.

“I can’t fly!” Ashley defended herself. “My doctor said it’s way too risky.”

“I know, I know,” Sydney rolled her eyes playfully. “How have you been, Bee? How’s work?”

Bee couldn’t help but notice the way Sydney kept saying the word ‘work’, but she tried not to think much of it. Bee wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Work is great, actually,” Bee said. “It keeps me busy, that’s for sure. But I love the team I work with, so it’s all good.”

“I bet you wished you could have quit for the playoffs,” Sydney commented. “How hard was it to travel to Boston with your work schedule?”

Bee tried not to make a face or furrow her brows. “I didn’t go to Boston.”

“Oh, you didn’t?” Sydney asked. She seemed genuinely shocked that Bee couldn’t travel, that she couldn’t follow Morgan regardless of how important the game way. “Hey Ash, where are we picking up Alannah?”

“Just at her hair salon on King. We’ll be there in like two minutes.”

Bee began to feel self-conscious. Morgan had never expressed that any WAGs would ever travel with the team during the playoffs. She assumed that the boys needed to stay focused, without distraction, and that significant others weren’t allowed to travel with them. Why did Sydney make it seem like it was so out of the ordinary that Bee didn’t go? Even if she could go, even if the significant others were allowed to travel with the team…she had work. She had a job. Responsibilities. She couldn’t just follow Morgan wherever he went because of hockey. She had a life too, and a career she was building – one as important as his – and she didn’t take that lightly.

When Alannah got in the car, the girls settled into a comfortable conversation – Ashley, Alannah, and Sydney more so, with Bee contributing every now and then – as Ashley made her way towards the Don Valley Parkway, the highway she’d need to take to get to the northern part of the city. As she turned on to Queen Street, driving through Moss Park on the east side of Toronto, Bee felt a sense of familiarity. Despite her circumstances now, she would never forget where she came from. These were the streets she grew up with – the streets that raised her, to an extent. The schools she attended. The apartment buildings she lived in. The parks she wandered through when –

“I don’t think I remember driving through this part of town! Ghettoooo!” Sydney giggled jovially from the backseat. “We heard so much about it when Matt wanted to go to that trendy restaurant but we never ended up coming ‘cause I convinced him not to.”

A shiver ran up Bee’s spine at Sydney’s comment. Yeah, it was the ghetto. It was one of the most depraved areas of Toronto. Public housing buildings dominated the neighbourhood. May families were low-income or relied on public assistance – like Bee and her mother had been. There were a lot of homeless shelters – many that Bee stayed in at some point in her young life. Bee was torn up at how out of touch Sydney made herself seem with that comment, so completely unaware of the area despite living in Toronto for two years…Bee didn’t know if it was a shock to her, or if she expected it.

And the fact that she had called it the ghetto with the tone of voice that she did. Like it was a joke.

Bee was quiet as they pulled up to a light. She looked towards Ashley in the driver’s seat before pointing to a building across from them that very much looked like public housing. “You see that building over there?” she asked. Ashley nodded her head, and Bee looked in the rear-view mirror to see Sydney and Alannah from the backseat looking as well. “I used to live there.”

Bee could see Sydney’s body stiffed in the backseat. “Ohmygod, you used to live here?”

“Yeah,” Bee nodded her head, trying to handle this with as much grace and maturity as she could even though Sydney had said what she said. “I grew up around here. I’ve lived in a couple of the buildings.”

“Well thank God you got out, huh?”

Bee bit her tongue so she wasn’t snippy. “Yeah. Thank God.”

***

“Oh my God Bee, your dress is sooooo cute!” Aryne exclaimed as she waddled over excitedly towards Bee with her arms stretched out, giving her a giant hug as she always did. “And your lipstick! That colour! I feel like Nigel from the Devil Wears Prada – my job here is done.”

Bee couldn’t help but giggle as she hugged Aryne back. “You’ll always be my fairy godmother, Aryne.”

“Good. Come on. Let me introduce you to my mom and some of my cousins.”

After a flurry of introductions, polite handshakes, small-talk, fruity drinks and some canapés, Bee let Aryne greet the next batch of guests who arrived as she re-joined Ashley, Alannah, and Sydney. Monique and Christina had joined, and Bee made sure to greet them. “That dress looks so cute on you, Bee!” Christina smiled as she went in for the hug.

“Thank you! God, I think I should wear it more often! I’ve been getting so many compliments,” she giggled. “I fell in love with the colours of the stripes.”

“It does look great,” Sydney agreed. “It's good you chose vertical stripes. They're slimming which is why it looks so great on you. Horizontal stripes are a big no no."

Bee’s breath hitched in her throat. Monique said something immediately after that made them switch subjects, but Bee was still stuck on the comment. She wished she wasn’t. She wished she could let it go and not care about it, but she couldn’t. It was like her Instagram DMs had taken a human form and she couldn’t get away. In front of her was a walking, talking embodiment of everything those girls wanted her to be, everything they thought Bee should be, and everything that she so clearly wasn’t. Sydney didn’t need to wear anything that was slimming because she was already slim. She didn’t need to think about what would look good and what clothes would flatter her body because everything would look good – with her blonde hair, perfectly plumped lips, cheekbones to die for, skin as clear as the sky, she looked like a fucking model.

Bee tried not to let it get the best of her as the baby shower went on. Everybody sat at their designated seats and munched on Caesar salad, a choice of either salmon filet or mushroom ravioli, and a peach and blueberry crumble. They played games, guessed the gender, and opened presents to much oohing and awing over how tiny everything was. Aryne seemed to appreciate Bee’s gift of a plush elephant and small collection of books to add to the baby’s library.

As the ladies ate their dessert, from beside Bee, Alannah nudged her gently. “Lucy texted me, told me you got a good deal on yoga pants. Lululemon?” she asked, forking some crumble into her mouth.

“Old Navy, actu--”

“Are you looking for a studio?” Sydney imposed on the conversation. Bee looked at her across the table. “I used to go to Moksha Yoga on King for hot yoga. And Jessica recommended this amazing personal trainer who works out of a gym on Adelaide. If you tell them my name, they’ll definitely help you with everything you need done.”

“Sydney,” Alannah stressed. So it wasn’t just Bee who was picking up on these things. Alannah had been listening for a long time too and, well, hell – Alannah was a lawyer. Reading between the lines on every single little thing said was practically her job. “I’m just asking about a deal on yoga pants.”

‘Do I look like I need to be helped? Do I look like I need everything done?’ Bee wanted to desperately to ask, but decided to hold her tongue.

“Listen, we can all tone up a bit,” Sydney shrugged her shoulders. “Like, I’m taking a boxing class right now to tone up before the wedding. We’ve had to take in the dress a bit more and my seamstress sort of hates me for it, but…it’s my wedding! I need to look my best, right? You understand, Alannah,” she tried to play it off, smiling and giggled and making it into a joke. “We all want to look good on our wedding day! Those are photos we’re going to have forever.”

“I get what you’re saying, Syd. I just wouldn’t advertise gyms or personal trainers to people unless they explicitly ask for it,” Alannah said.

“I don’t think Bee is offended, Alannah,” Sydney said as if it was the most ridiculous notion in the world. Bee was highly offended. “She knows how long and stressful the wedding planning has been.”

“She does?” Alannah asked.

“I do?” Bee asked, speaking for the first time in the entire conversation.

“Of course you do! Remember when we first met at lunch? I mentioned the second dress and the flower wall and the veil,” she said. Bee looked at her wide-eyed, shocked that Sydney would assume Bee would remember any detail about her wedding when she, nor her boyfriend, were even invited in the first place. “It was like, after the All-Star Break. When I was in town for my dress fitting on Valentine’s Day,” Sydney said. “I know you and Morgan were in Vancouver around that time, but you must remember.”

The fact that Sydney remembered, or even knew, that Morgan and Bee were in Vancouver during the All-Star Break was one thing – she must have seen the stolen pictures reposted on NHL WAG Instagram accounts. But at the mention of said All-Star Break, Alannah got physically uncomfortable. “Syd--”

“I’m sorry, I just remember that we met. I don’t remember the details. I must have forgotten about it,” Bee shrugged her shoulders, trying to drop it.

“How could you forget?” Sydney pressured.

“Sydney --”

“Because my mother died during the All-Star Break in January,” Bee revealed as calmly as she could, biting her tongue and looking Sydney dead in the eye, watching her squirm in her seat, the discomfort and the realization finally dawning on her. “Now can we drop it?”

A loud clink of a glass. Everybody settling down and silencing themselves. Aryne standing up from her spot at the head of the table, a giant smile on her face as she started her speech thanking everyone for coming and for all their gifts. Polite rounds of applause as she thanked her mom and her mother-in-law for hosting. Another polite round of applause when she finished her speech. A strained smile on Sydney’s face as she listened and clapped along. Side-eyes from Alannah, watching the space between Bee and Sydney, before focusing back on Aryne.

“I’ll be right back,” Bee said to Alannah as she stood up from her seat, making her way towards the bathrooms. Noticing that it was empty when she entered, Bee took a few seconds to look at herself in the mirror. The dress did look nice, and it did look cute on her, but because there were spaghetti straps, there was some underarm flab that the other girls didn’t have. If she was strategic, her hair could conceal it. Bee wondered if that’s what set Sydney off.

Bee was only human. There was only so much negativity she could take until she began to wonder if the words that constantly followed her around were true. She knew she wasn’t perfect – far from it – but she didn’t need her imperfections and insecurities pointed out to her at literally every given moment of the day. The Instagram DMs were a part of her life at this point – she’d never be able to get rid of them, and she made her peace with that long ago. They didn’t affect her as much, mostly because these girls didn’t know her, or Morgan, or anything to do with her life. But to hear similar comments coming from the mouth of someone in a similar situation, someone who knows this world and who has been in it for a while…it was different. Bee was taking her comments to heart, even though she knew she shouldn’t be. It was a rare moment of weakness for her – a moment of weakness she tried to desperately to overcome when it was anonymous random messages.

But in that moment of weakness, her thoughts and impulses got the best of her. She could only be so strong. She was only normal. She remembered what those girls said to her in the bathrooms at Scotiabank Arena and opened a new tab on her phone. ‘tumblr puckbunny Sydney esiason cassie’ she typed the random array of words quickly into the search bar, the first link giving her exactly what she wanted. An anonymous ask sending in screenshots of a Valentine’s Day post on someone’s profile and a comment thread below. The original comment on Instagram read ‘Fangirls in Toronto didn’t like Syd bc she called them out on their bullshit. The amount of girls trying to hook up with players there is ridiculous. They have no shame. So many succeed bc the guys are young and dumb. They’re all work as waitresses or bottle girls at clubs.’

Innocent enough, Bee thought. She was intrigued to know that Sydney had apparently called girls out. When the whole mess happened with Morgan, Bee distinctly remembered Steve Keogh telling her not to engage. She wouldn’t have put it past Sydney to not listen to him.

But then, Sydney’s response to the comment: ‘Girls in Toronto love to pretend to work only to quit when the playoffs come around’

Bee locked her phone as an automatic reaction because she couldn’t believe the words she’d just read. She unlocked her phone again. She read over the comments and noticed the answer written by the owner of the blog. ‘That’s definitely about Cassie, anon. Don’t know where u get off thinking it’s about Mo’s girl just bc that other anon sent in proof Bee got a job at Scotiabank. Everybody knows Cassie is a wannabe model and only got hired by that modelling agency bc her dad is friends with the owner. Cassie doesn’t work and comes from money but wants to be a ‘model’ and ‘influencer’ bc she’s barely literate.’

Bee felt like flushing her phone down the toilet. She felt like burying it in one of the flowerbeds outside so she could never see it again. She felt like taking the streetcar all the way down to Lake Ontario, attaching concrete blocks to her phone, and tossing it into the lake. ‘Girls in Toronto love to pretend to work’ repeated over and over in her head.

She couldn’t do this. She didn’t want to engage. Not today, at Aryne’s baby shower. Not ever.

She exited the stall, flattening out her dress and putting her phone back into her Chanel bag before the door opened again out of the corner of her eye. “Hey,” Sydney’s voice shocked her momentarily. Bee watched as she entered the washroom clutching her bag, letting the door close behind her. “Are you alright?”

Bee had held her tongue for most of the afternoon. She had tried to remain calm and quiet, stoic, and unbothered. But she couldn’t anymore. Not after Alannah heard it too. And now, with the two of them alone in a bathroom, she was finally going to use her voice. “Is there…I mean, is there a reason why you hate me so much?”

“What?” Sydney asked.

“All you’ve done today is insult me in every way possible.”

“Well I didn’t mean to.”

“But you kept doing it!” Bee stressed. “Every conversation we’ve had today, I felt like you were trying to undermine me somehow or make me feel like complete shit. And like…listen,” Bee took a deep breath. “I don’t need you to like me. Quite frankly, I don’t care if you do. You don’t mean anything to me and I don’t know you. But you need to at least respect me. And you weren’t even doing that.”

“I was trying to help you--”

“How? By insinuating I was fat and needed to lose weight?” Bee demanded. “By making me feel bad for having a career away from hockey?”

“Listen, I think you misunderstood--”

“Don’t take me for a fucking idiot, Sydney,” Bee spat, not even bothering to hold back the venom in her voice, looking her dead in the eye. It shut Sydney up really quick. “I’m sure you already know what comments I get regularly from girls in Toronto. It’s white noise at this point for how many I get. Every. Single. Day. You’ve been in this world for much longer than I have and you should know better. I really don’t need those types of comments from you too.”

There was a moment of silence between the two women as Sydney lowered her eyes and looked at the floor. Bee couldn’t help but cross her arms over her chest, waiting for a reply. “Listen…” Sydney began finally. “I’m sorry if you were offended--”

“I am offended.”

“Well I’m sorry,” she stressed, her voice more firm this time. “It’s just a really stressful time right now and I guess I said some things that were misconstrued. You don’t understand because you aren’t getting married or planning a wedding.”

Bee couldn’t help but roll her eyes. If a half-assed apology and some lame excuse were all she was going to get from her, then so be it. She would have to accept it. She wanted to end the conversation right there because she didn’t want to hear Sydney blame it on anything besides her sour attitude. “I’m sure you’re going to have a beautiful wedding and you’re going to look absolutely stunning, because you are. You just don’t need to insult other people, whether consciously or unconsciously, in order to do that.”

Bee made her way past Sydney, opening the door to the washroom and re-joining the baby shower. By this point, the wait staff was clearing the dessert dishes from the table. She settled into her seat, eating the last of her crumble. Alannah looked at her wide-eyed. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Just don’t say anything to Aryne,” Bee implored, and Alannah nodded her head.

***

“LET’S GO RAPTORS!” Bee shouted along with the rest of the fans, clapping and smiling as she looked between the jumbotron and the action on the court to see what was going on. Basketball was easier to understand than hockey for most things (although fouls still confused her – they could be called for the slightest of things, whereas in hockey it often seemed you needed to guillotine a guy to get a penalty called), so she was able to pick it up quicker. The energy inside of Scotiabank Arena was different than a Leaf game, that was for sure. The buzz that the Raptors could bring a championship to Toronto fed that feeling.

Bee sat with Morgan, munching on the last of their popcorn. So many of the boys – Naz, Patrick, Travis, Zach, Mitch, Connor, and Trevor – and their significant others were there cheering on the Raptors from an executive suite and the accompanying seats. Morgan had the free t-shirt they were given wrapped around his neck, and Bee had hers around her neck as well, not wanting to cover the brand new Raptors jersey Morgan bought for her when they got to the arena.

“Are you liking it so far, Bee?” Naz asked her as Morgan escaped to the washroom in between plays.

“I’m loving it,” she smiled. “No offence but it’s so much easier to understand than hockey.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Naz smiled. “I think it helps that they might fucking do this tonight. The city is going to go apeshit.”

“If they do, we have to be out there with them,” she said. “I think the last time people partied in the streets for a championship was when Team Canada won the gold medal in Vancouver, right?” she mused. “But I was only fifteen then. Couldn’t exactly party.”

“Even then. It was Team Canada, but it wasn’t a Toronto team,” he said. “It’s gonna be nuts. And if we win it at home it makes it that much sweeter.”

As the play resumed, Morgan still hadn’t made it back to his seat. Bee and Naz watched intently as the Raptors began a play that ended up in a pretty awesome shot by Kyle Lowry. Though Bee was focused on watching, she noticed Naz look behind him out of the corner of her eye and yell ‘Hurry up bro!’. After a few more back and forths, Kawhi Leonard shot an incredible three-pointer, giving the Raptors the lead. Everybody went crazy – Bee and Naz stood up from their seats, throwing their hands up in the air. Bee looked to her right to see Morgan doing the same, an excited smile on his face before he went in to give Naz a giant hug. They began jumping together with excitement and Bee couldn’t help but laugh – they looked like little boys, especially Morgan with his backwards cap on. He managed to shuffle past Naz and hug her too, squeezing her tightly and lifting her up off the ground. After he set her down, he kept his arms around her as he kissed her.

“They’re gonna do it! They’re really gonna do it!” he screamed.

But they didn’t. After a last minute surge, the final score was 106-105 for the Golden State Warriors. Another heartbreak. The series was 3-2, and the Raptors would be heading back to California. Despite the loss, everybody seemed in generally good spirits, given the score. Considering it was so close, and considering the Raptors were still up a game, there was a major hunch that the Raptors would end the series next game, in Golden State’s arena.

“So what did you think?” Morgan asked as they got into his car in the Scotiabank Arena parking lot. “Your first basketball game. Sorry they lost.”

Bee snorted. There was no reason for him to apologize. He wasn’t even on the team. “It was a blast, Morgan. I’m going to have to write a thank you note to Kyle and Masai for the tickets.”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said absent-mindedly.

“Of course I do. It’s polite,” she countered. “Tickets for this game were going for thousands of dollars. And we were in a private box with catering. It would be impolite not to.”

“Okay, okay,” he smiled, grabbing her hand across the console as they drove out of the parking garage. “You look cute in that jersey.”

She smirked as she gave him some side-eye. “Oh yeah? How so?”

Morgan shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. You just do.”

“Do you prefer a Raptors jersey on me or a Leafs jersey?” she asked.

Morgan gave her a look, causing her to giggle. “I think you know the answer to that question,” he said, his voice low. “Never saw the number 44 look so good, that’s for sure.”

“You’re lucky blue goes with my eyes better than red does,” she said, giving him a wink. “I think blue is my colour.”

“Oh, blue is definitely your colour.”

***

“Come up baby. Come up,” Bee cooed as she patted on the couch. Bruce looked up at her, meowing as he finally jumped up. “Hi baby! Hi Brucey,” she scratched underneath his chin. “You wanna come cuddle with us?”

Instead of cuddling into Bee like he usually did, Bruce began to climb on top of Morgan, exploring and even falling off of him before jumping back on. Morgan watched with an amused look on his face despite being focused on the hockey analysts on TV just moments ago. He had decided he wanted to watch the Stanley Cup Final game – Boston versus St. Louis – if only because his old friend and teammate Tyler Bozak was playing on St. Louis now and Morgan wanted him – and only him – to win. He made that abundantly clear. He only wanted “Bozie” to win.

Bee knew there were going to be a lot of emotions that night. She knew they would be thinking that it could have been Morgan and the Leafs in this position, so she made sure to prepare accordingly – extra buttery popcorn, chocolate chip cookies, and Sweet Chili Heat Doritos were already in bowls in front of them on their coffee table, just in case. And because she knew he would need it, she designated herself to be the big spoon. As they cuddled on the couch, Morgan laid his head on her chest instead of the other way around, like it usually was. She was already running her fingers through his hair gently as he had watched the pre-show.

“He’s definitely his mother’s son,” he commented as Bruce meowed, participating in a delicate balancing act of walking along Morgan’s legs.

Bee gave him a playful side-eye. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?” she asked.

“You decide,” he winked. Bruce meowed again. “He definitely has Springsteen’s voice, that’s for sure,” Morgan giggled.

“He wants the world to know he has something to say,” Bee said. “Don’t you, Brucey?” Another meow as he walked back up Morgan’s legs, causing them both to laugh. “Come cuddle, Brucey. Give us a concert another time,” she patted the spot on the couch in front of her again.

“Maybe he’s trying to say he wants St. Louis to win,” Morgan mused.

“Maybe he’s telling Nick Kypreos to shut up,” Bee mused as well, garnering a snort from Morgan. “Then he’d really be his mother’s son.”

“You’re something else, Briony McTavish,” he said, leaning his head up to kiss her before snuggling it into her chest again. He let out a content sigh as he continued to watch the analysts speak. “I love this,” he said quietly, almost a whisper.

“You love what?”

“This. Us being like this. Me, you, Bruce,” Morgan said as he scratched Bruce’s ears.

Bee couldn’t help but smile. “Me too.”

The game was decent. Boston lost, which Bee was happy about, and Tyler Bozak won the Stanley Cup, which Morgan was happy about. Bee got to watch Brad Marchand cry – a true highlight – and Morgan texted Tyler’s wife Molly a congratulations message, though he was sure she wouldn’t be checking her phone for hours. As they watched the presentation of the Conn Smythe Trophy to Ryan O’Reilly and the official presentation of the Stanley Cup to the St. Louis Blues, Morgan didn’t take his eyes off the screen. Bee made sure she kept running her fingers through his hair. She made sure that her body was as close to his as possible, that his hand keeping warm between her thighs was held on to.

As they watched each of the players scream in pure elation as they hoisted the Stanley Cup, Bee placed a gentle kiss on Morgan’s forehead. “That’ll be you and the boys one day,” she whispered against his skin.

“I know,” he said softly, not taking his eyes off the screen. “One day. And you’ll be out on the ice with me.”

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jlf23tumble · 5 years

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Agree so much with your post about the teams and fan engagement ! And love the way you articulated all of that. Although now I definitely am interested in knowing what your notes about the specificity of each team/artist cause I feel like they'd be fascinating to read. Hope you'll post them some day, and thank you for sharing your thoughts with us ! 😊

Awwww, that’s very kind! It’s definitely head canon city, I litcherally have ZERO clue what goes on behind the scenes (and I can’t stress this enough, none of us do), so this’ll look hilariously dated when we find out that blah woof was true all along, lmao (me @ myself, thinking of some random Grimshaw interviews from last fall, oh, bless). Let’s dig in!!

For those of you who just stumbled upon this post, it’s related to the one I made last night about how I think the management teams of all these men (mid-20s means = you’re a man, not a boy) are not, in fact, sabotaging them. They negotiate a lot of tricky interconnected arrangements that none of us are privy, to, plus they’re at least trying to achieve the goals their clients are going for. And they’re doing it—the trick is these goals are highly individual and not 100% sensical (at least given our own view from the afternoon, Arctic Monkeys ref, holllllllah!!!).

In addition, these goals constantly shift, as does the music industry itself—I drive my own self loony when I lurk on blogs that are seemingly broadcasting from 2012, confused by why xx’s team is so “terrible” because they aren’t throwing good money after bad to get on a radio playlist, or why they haven’t announced yy “properly,” as if they’re being paid to worry about this level of shit (which fires me up on about five levels, deep breaths in, deep breaths out). I’m much nosier about the signals we’re getting when we hear them talk in their beautifully media-trained way about their musical interests, when we get some of that sweet, sweet fan service with a Gallagher or a Capaldi, when we get that heads up about who’s attending what concert, stuff like that. These signals don’t necessarily indicate future collaborations, but they DO indicate what kind of image these guys want to have, the kind of music they want the public to associate them with.

Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself…their personalities and goals at the moment are all so vastly different, and I truly do love seeing how their teams are workin’ it accordingly. Again, please @ god, don’t @ me…opinions, massively unpopular opinions, dead ahead!

* Zayn. My read on Zayn is that he enjoys the creative process, loves writing and singing, digs collabing with people, but he doesn’t seem to give two shits about the biz side (and why should he? that’s called living the dream at this particular point in his career). His website recently added “tour,” which EYEBALL EYEBALL, but he doesn’t seem to be all that interested in putting himself back out on stage or into radio/print/etc. anytime soon, and again, why should he? His numbers are HUGE without pushing himself through the anxiety-provoking churn he endured for four years, so there’s no real drive for him to do any promo if he doesn’t want to (see: the netflix-like binge dump of Icarus Falls, which could be “sabotage,” or it could just be, “fineeeeeeee, here’s some stuff for you, enjoy”). What other artist gifts his fans with gorgeous covers of such a wide variety of songs that indicate he’s more interested in sharing them than selling them. Accordingly, his fan interactions seem fairly pure and not all that promo-y: he has a keen interest in fanart, he’s done some fan pop-ups/listening parties that are pretty low-key and *seemingly* fan-focused, and recently (with zero anything to really promote), he’s been posing for cute pics and chatting with randos on the streets of NYC. I recently read that his mgmt team is no longer with him, but that sort of folds into my feeling that he’s not pursuing anything biz-wise, hence no need to jump through those particular hoops (I think he’s also struggled with a lot of demons, so yeah, why add one more). Could he be adrift? Maybe, but the next guy is the posterman for lack of focus….

* Liam. Honestly, I worry about Liam most of all. His post-1D career seems very much adrift, and I like to joke that he’s giving me that tell-all about the D one sentence at a time, but goddamn, are people listening? The struggles with alcohol, the lack of focus on every level, the reliance on his dad’s career advice (which more clearly reflects his dad’s financial class, background, and history than it does Liam’s), and the overall confusion about look, sound, and direction also flow back directly into his team. I get the feeling that they aren’t sure what to do because LIAM isn’t sure what to do or what he wants, so they follow in his wake. He’s agreeable to a fault, so seeing him at a meet-and-greet at an HMV in Birmingham last week felt like a step back into 2010 for no real reason, just like hearing that he was more or less coerced into full nude photoshoots for an underwear ad (the decisions to say yes to both of those—who’s steering this ship? If it’s Liam, he needs to tell the team his overall goal, so they can plot a course he and his fans can follow; if it’s the team, ditto). Like Niall, Liam’s actually pretty good at the SM game: lots of selfies, snapchat filters, outfits, gym service, twitter interactions. But generally speaking, his promo is confusing, and that’s probably because there isn’t much *to* promote at this point, other than a mix of collabs, clothing endorsements, spon con, horse farms, and an album that’s always on the horizon. This might be tied to the general post-1D jolt they all went through, like a plane coming off autopilot and into the hands of someone who’s just learning how to fly it. Zayn debuted at number one, so his bump wasn’t as harsh, but the others are slowly, steadily finding their footing after taking some time to find themselves and their sound, releasing songs/albums, performing (or in Louis’s case, going through unspeakable tragedy). Liam’s still adrift…and somewhat admittedly, which is kind of telling in its own way. Just know that my nervousness on his behalf ratchets up every time he feels the urge to assure us all that he’s happy.

* Niall. Truly the one following the original 1D template, right down to working with most of the same people but with more of the overall control in his hands instead of a faceless management squad. Of any of them, he seems the most ambitious, the most scientific about the sound he’s after and how he’s gonna get there. His promo is a mix of new and traditional—radio shows, talk shows, podcasts, special events, twitter interactions with fans, twitter interactions with entertaining celebrities—and it’s all hustle hustle hustle, build build build, as if he were a new ingenue instead of coming up hard on solo album number two. He’s explicit in his goals, which is refreshing, but it means he walks a weird line with fans: on one hand, he’s done with their bullshit, get ready to get rekt if you start commenting on his boring food seasoning or home décor. But on the other hand, he fully recognizes how much he needs them, which is why we get so many peeks into his “normal” life (yet zero percent of his actual personal life). It’s also probably why the blatant tweets of the last two days seem so jarring to me (I might be alone on this one, but I’m not a fan of directives in general, and asking me to call radio stations on behalf of a rich white man to become even richer just rubs me the wrong way, same with asking me to stream stuff to get you to number one…you’ve been there, buddy, how about you calm down and build some character at number 51). And speaking of calming down, it does fascinate me that both Niall and Louis namecheck Taylor Swift as someone who gets the whole fandom push/pull thing right, so watching them try to reverse-engineer her secrets is fun. Louis nails it (that hotspot treasure hunt: chef’s kiss), but Niall’s heavy-handed easter egg dump in NTMY, she would never!! I think Niall’s team needs to watch “Calm Down” about five more times before they try that again.

* Louis. I think Louis honestly has an AMAZING team in place, and they’re all clearly on his side, which makes for a refreshing change. Like Niall, he has publicly praised Taylor Swift for how she engages with her fans, but I think he’s missing a key point: she doesn’t let her fans dictate strategy, and I HOPE that’s the case for Louis, too. His old team *was* shit, so yeah, encouraging people to do fan projects to get the word out was a good idea, but turning that spigot off to let a good (paid) team step in and take over has been, uh, challenging. He’s dealt with more than his fair share of personal tragedy, but every time he gets some momentum going, it feels like something bts pushes him back off track, and he tends to keep it private, which only makes his hardest-core fans scream “sabotage.” Rightly so, he’s focusing on his personal life, and rightly so, his team is giving him the space to do that, even when it costs cash money and throws a lot of shit seriously for a loop. It makes my heart soar to see the potential of what his team can do/is doing, how much space he’s being allowed to process what he needs to process. Weirdly, that’s an unpopular opinion, and a lot of people want to indulge in an angst wank fest where Louis’s the victim of a terrible team that won’t DO anything (nevermind the fact that he’s probably ASKED them not to do anything), so they undertake a tremendous amount of performative unpaid labor that ends up being counterproductive on just about every front. Even worse, most of them can’t seem to process the fact that losing your mum is a blow, losing your SISTER is a blow, juggling other siblings or close friends handling some serious demons of their own in the aftermath of all of *that* is a blow, let alone handling your own personal coping mechanisms, nope, they want Louis to release release release, perform perform perform, c’mon, what’s holding him back, he *said* he wanted to release an album this year, there’s “no reason” for a delay, gotta be his shitty team, free him. It drives me ‘round the bend because it’s the same talk from late last year, you know, when we later found out that at least one family member was losing a fight with drug addiction. Louis’s fan engagement/promo is therefore hella fraught: he has to balance LouisTM on twitter (Mr. Donny, he’s hard, mate), his werk IG posts, and his constant edging because nobody can remember or trust that he’s got this, that multiple things are in play. But he also knows his fanbase, knows that it’s resistant to any kind of change, so I hope he pushes through and stays true to what he wants to do. I was really encouraged with his last promo round because he seems to have narrowed in on a something solid, he’s got a plan, and it’s not, “hey mr dj, put my record on,” it’s getting his fans to trust that he and his team know what the fuck they’re doing, and spoiler alert, it ain’t radio, but go ahead and keep pissing off djs by sending angry tweets their way. (Related: why is it so bad to avoid the radio when all of us admit that radio music is garbage? Is it because it’s more about you than him? Much to think about.)

* Harry. My very favorite head canon is that Harry is Jeff’s nightmare client: what was perfection at first because the Azoffs are old-school promo all the way (no SM, baby, gimme that sweet, sweet paper), and that dovetailed nicely with post-1D Harry, but it quickly veered into mulish teeth pulling. Low profile can quickly spin into no profile, and that really doesn’t work too well when you’re trying to sell sell sell, even if your brand is Harry StylesTM. HS1 and Dunkirk in their own separate ways worked VERY hard to push past the still-persistent way the general public views Harry as boybander Harry Styles, or more accurately, former boybander Harry Styles who dated Taylor Swift (if you venture out and ask someone who’s not a fan), but what I love about Harry is that much like Zayn, he doesn’t seem to be too bothered by all that. Sure, he’s ambitious, he wants to challenge himself and do things, but he’s no Niall Horan. He’s put in his time! If he gets a number one, then cool, but he’s not gonna chase it. And this is where Harry’s team really reflects his goals and energy: sure, they want him to do some promo (that “Do” tweet, the entire bit about the fan in Australia and Harry Lambert’s follow, goddddd, I loved it, petty Harry, resigned Jeff), but they clearly aren’t forcing him. He drops a song that makes a HUGE splash, and the follow-up is…liking some tweets and going to a John Mayer concert (not a John Mayer fan, so that wouldn’t be my first choice, but I respond to the zero fucks given about the whole thing). The music industry has changed a LOT in just two years, so it’s kind of cool to see team Harry pivoting a bit, seeing more SM interaction, the kindness generator, etc., but that said, the team takes their cues from him, and he clearly doesn’t want to do a whole promo circuit beyond persons a, b, and c, and magazine R, F, and A. Does it make sense to have Rob Sheffield write a profile about Stevie Nicks-blessed shroom-eater Harry Styles when his new song sounds like the Zarry combo of my dreams? NOPE, but that’s okay, Harry wanted to talk to Rob, so that’s what happened. The new song is more streaming friendly, and thank CHRIST, a lot less crusty white dude stuck in the ‘70s, so I can only hope that the rest of the album is thus, but we shall see! We’ll also see if Harry’s fan engagement shifts any further into the active zone…so far, it’s been “I’m gonna follow some larries, like these fun generator posts, check out a few dads” and staged photo ops with the same familiar faces, but I think he’s dealing with his own major bts issues as well (album delayed at least twice; that entire stalking situation). I still contend the album’s coming in the next few weeks, so it’ll be interesting to see if/how any additional promo rolls out in this new world order post-gryles landscape, how many interviews he’ll do, but I like that there’s a strategy that seems less stodgy…kudos to the new SM team, at least!!

Oh man, that got really long! Hope you enjoyed, and YES, opinions opinions opinions, and they’ll be stupid in about three weeks’ time, thanks for coming to my already dated buzzfeed article

#so many long-winded opinions #one direction #yeah #and shout out to kim for always checking my work!!!

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nubnubblr · 4 years

Text

If You Do. 27 Detoxing Doobin

THEA

"It's so early," I whined.

"No one said you had to come in this early," Charlie frowned at me as we got in her car.

"The profile photos will be better if you haven't been in class sweating," I mumbled resting my head on the window.

I regularly took photos for 1Millions website and advertising, I had been asked to come and take some new profile photos for each of the choreographers because they had a new one being brought on or something, and they wanted some updated class photos. It had been probably 3 months since I last did it, I guess it was good that they keep everything so updated.

"Why are you even complaining? You get up this early for school,"

"Yeah but I don't have to go to school today,"

"You can get out of the car of you l9ke and go back to bed,"

"No, I'm already awake,"

"Well then stop complaining,"

"Argh, you're so grumpy in the morning," I huffed.

"I have to go and deal with Doobin while trying to not have sex with him,"

"Why don't you just have sex with him?"

"Because he is Shawn's brother and he is 19,"

"He is over the legal age of consent," I shrugged.

"Barely,"

"Well of not sleeping with him didn't work, why don't you just sleep with him a lot until you get bored?"

"That won't work,"

"Why not? That's what you do when you crave something, you have an excessive amount of it and then you get tired of it and don't want it anymore,"

"That... actually makes sense," she frowned.

"Obviously,"

"Except I can't just go sleeping with Doobin while Shawn is there and we can be caught at any moment,"

"Doesn't that kind of make it so much better though, the thought that you could be caught any second?"

"That's beside the point,"

"Oh relax, I'll keep Shawn distracted while you bone his brother," I shrugged her off.

"I'm not going to bone Doobin while Shawn is in the same building,"

"Yes, you are," I rolled my eyes.

"What would you know?" she huffed.

"Can we stop for coffee?" I changed the subject.

"Only if you shut up about Doobin,"

"What even is a Doobin?" I shrugged.

She just shook her head at me.

CHARLIE

She wasn't wrong, I mean I wasn't' sure how I was going to get Doobin out of my system with Shawn and basically everyone else there. Not that I wanted to be caught at all but I especially didn't want Shawn to find out about it. I've tried to just avoid him but apparently, all that does is make me want to sleep with him more like he's some kind of forbidden fruit.

We got to the dance studio after we stopped so Thea could have her morning coffee. Most of the choreographers were in the staff room, of course, Doobin was also there. I reframed from groaning out loud. I had done a pretty good job at ignoring him the past few days, which as just resulted in me having to use every ounce of self restrain that I have to not just jump him in the middle of my class.

Yesterday he had the nerve to wear a sleeveless shirt and take all of the classes I was teaching that day. at one point he had even taken his shirt off and I had ended class early because I was worried that if I stayed in the room too long with a shirtless Doobin I wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself.

"Hey girlies," Austin greeted.

"Girlies?" Thea frowned at him.

"Ladies?"

"Ew

"Homies?" he tried again.

"Much better," she nodded.

"You're weird," he laughed at her.

"And you're first," she smiled lifting her camera bag into the air.

"Why me?" he huffed.

"Because you're my favourite," she shrugged.

"Liar,"

"You're the only one who looks awake enough to have their photos done,"

"I can go first," Junsun offered, he probably just wanted to get them out of the way.

"No, you're last,"

"Why?"

"Because you're my least favourite," she smiled sweetly.

"Where do you want me?" Austin interjected.

"Nowhere I should have you," Thea winked.

"BM is already mad at you, can he really get any madder?"Austin laughed and got up from the couch.

"You wouldn't think so but knowing him, probably," she shrugged like it was nothing but her face flashed something different.

The fact that BM wasn't talking to her and had been so cruel to her was killing her. She hadn't really been the same the past few weeks. Not that BM seemed to care. I don't really know why he's so mad, I mean I kind of get it but really I don't know why he's surprised, we were all a little surprised that they hadn't slept together. Knowing they had actually made more sense.

They had spent an entire summer together and we were all pretty sure that Drew had liked her even before she lost all the weight.

"Come on, we'll go to the terrace, the natural light with be better," Thea shrugged leading the way.

"She's not going to be able to focus on her job," Junsun smirked.

"What do you mean?" I frowned.

"Austin isn't wearing a shirt under that denim jacket, he plans to unbutton it," Jinwoo stated.

"You realise she sees you all shirtless all the time, right?" I raised an eyebrow.

"She also has no self-control," Junsun pointed out.

"She photographs shirtless guys as a majority of her photography work, she isn't going to be thrown off just because Austin decided to show off some abs," I rolled my eyes.

I'd been counting the money carefully the past few weeks, just to figure out whether someone was stealing or just wasn't doing their job properly. After the first week, there was a substantial amount missing so I was pretty sure it wasn't just a mess up on someone's part. So, at the beginning of the week, called to organise someone to install CCTV so that I could catch whoever it is stealing from the bar. They finally installed it yesterday, so now that I actually had a days worth of footage I could look over it and figure out.

So far I had probably skimmed through about half the day and nothing weird or suspicious. Honestly, I wasn't really sure what I was even looking for, I trusted my staff, if I didn't I wouldn't have hired them in the first place, and I'm here most of the day so If someone was actually stealing from me then I clearly wasn't focusing enough on my surroundings. Maybe someone wasn't charging customers properly? It's a substantial amount to be undercharging.

I sighed getting frustrated with the lack of clarity I was getting on the issue. I almost turned the recording off to give myself a break just as I saw what I have been looking for. I'm not sure who I was madder at, myself for not noticing it sooner, or hiring them in the first place. Or at them for stealing from me.

THEA

"What took you so long? Did you get distracted?" Junsun asked.

"By what?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Austins abs,"

"I've seen better," I shrugged.

"Ouch," Austin pouted.

"I told you, photographing half-naked dudes is most of her job," Charlie stated.

"Yeah, have you seen Yuri?" Jacob nodded smirking.

"Yeah," Charlie and I nodded

"Unfortunately," Doobin mumbled.

"Jealous?" Koosung smirked.

"Of that playboy? No," Doobin rolled his eyes leaving the room.

"You're breaking that kids heart," Jinwoo shook his head.

"He's fine," Jacob, Charlie and Shawn stated. I had to try and cover my laugh with a cough, Charlie frowned at me.

"Who's next?" I changed the subject.

CHARLIE

I was trying to remember who I was teaching a class with this morning, the schedule had been all over the place lately and honestly I'd been busy worry about other things than focusing on which choreography I was supposed to be teaching. It didn't help that Doobin was in every one of my classes, I wasn't even exaggerating. He was like some super attractive, dangerously addictive, stalker student. I couldn't seem to get away from him and it was getting to the point that I wasn't sure that having a class full of students was going to be enough to stop me from jumping him anymore.

I was on my way to check the schedule when I was pulled into one of the dance rooms. Seconds later my back was against the wall and Doobin's mouth was on mine, his hands on my hips pushing himself onto me. He pulled away without warning and my body et out an objective moan without my permission. He smirked at me knowing he was winning.

"See you in class," he winked walking out of the room. I stood there staring at my reflection in the mirror walls across the room trying to catch my breath.

"There you are," Thea poked her head in the door, the sudden noise caused me to jump.

"Did I just scare you? Are you okay?" she frowned at me, I wasn't normally startled by anything.

"What? yeah, I'm fine," I tried to force myself back into reality.

"Did you just jump Doobin?"

"Did I jump him?" I frowned.

"I'll take that as a yes," she smirked.

"I have class," I rolled my eyes.

"Do you though?"

"I have students to teach, yes,"

"That makes more sense, you're far from classy," she teased.

"Shut up and go take your photos," I sighed.

"I was actually coming to take photos of your collab class with Shawn, but it seems like you were a little too busy coming with his brother,"

"Wait. My collab class is with Shawn?" I felt like my stomach relocated to my throat.

"Clearly you're so busy coming with his brother that you don't even know you're own schedule. This is going to be fun," she smirked.

"Not funny dude," I sighed.

"Maybe not for you," she mumbled leaving the room.

THEA

I had never seen Charlie so awkward in my life, she couldn't concentrate on the dance steps and forgot the choreography a few time. I didn't really blame her with the way Doobin kept looking at her, I could barely concentrate on taking photos because I was a too focused on the suspense of the two possibly getting caught out or the conversation the Doobin and Jacob were having about Charlie, of course, they didn't use her name so the other girls in the classroom were getting frustrated with hearing a story about Doobin with a girl but not knowing who it was.

"Why don't we take a break?" Shawn suggested giving Charlie a concerned look.

"Yes, let's do that," Charlie agreed, leaving the room. I followed her out, it's not like I was going to get any good shots of students not doing anything.

"You okay?" I asked when I caught up with her, only because she had collapsed into the couch in the staff room.

"No, I want to jump him and the face he keeps making at me is draining all of my willpower," she sighed.

"It's not like you had a whole lot of that, to begin with," I mumbled.

"Not helping,"

"My offer to distract Shawn still stands, it's probably better if you get Doobin out of your system," I commented.

"Don't say his name," she frowned at me.

"Why?"

"What if someone walks in and you're just throwing his name around? Then everyone would know," she rambled.

"Everyone would know what?" Koosung asked walking through the door.

"Nothing," Charlie gave me look to prove her point.

"You really need to get laid," I shook my head.

"I'm not busy," Koosung smirked.

"Your penis is tainted," Charlie retorted.

"The penis and the taint are two different things," Koosung shot back.

"You're all useless," Charlie shook her head getting up from the couch and leaving the room.

"What's up with her today?" Koosung asked.

"No idea," I shrugged putting my camera on the coffee table.

"Oh, can I look?"

"No, don't touch it, I just need to pee," I glared.

"Lame," he huffed.

I just rolled my eyes leaving the room. As I walked past the men's bathroom a hand came out from the door and pulled me inside. A squeak was all I managed to get out, my back was against the wall, the hands that were on my hips were gone almost as quickly as they were there and I was now looking up at a very mortified looking Doobin.

"Oh my god," he shuttered, his face contorted and he made an action that I thought was him dry heaving.

"What the hell?" I frowned.

"I thought you were Charlie," he defended and seemed to dry heave again. I would be offended if I didn't want to do the same thing.

"I'm obviously not Charlie,"

"I can see that, what are you doing here?"

"I was going to the bathroom, you're the one who abducted me," I retorted.

"Because I thought you were Charlie, she just went in there,"

"What are you doing stalking her to the bathroom you creeper? Also, who wants to be made out within a men's bathroom? That's gross," I frowned, retreating out of there and into the women's bathroom where Charlie was washing her hands.

"What's with your face?" she raised an eyebrow.

"You're illegal just tried to make out with me because he thought I was you," my whole body shuddered.

"He's legal," she retorted.

"That doesn't make a difference,"

"Doesn't it? Hmm, a little different when you're on the other side huh?"

"No, it's not actually. I don't want to jump his barely legal penis,"

"Wait, where did he try and make out with you?" she asked.

"In the men's bathroom,"

"Ew," she frowned.

"That's what I said," I nodded.

The bar was supposed to open in 20 minutes, and no surprise, Austin wasn't here. He was supposed to be here 0 minutes ago to get the kitchen ready, but like usual the kitchen hands were getting everything ready for him. He had been on thin ice for a while now and I had already spoken to him about it.

"Hey, sorry I'm late. Car trouble," he stated casually as he strolled through the front doors.

"Can I talk to you for a minute," it didn't sound like a question and I hadn't intended it to.

"Sure, let me just put my bag down," he nodded.

"Bring it with you,"

"Why?" He questioned.

"Because someone has been stealing, I wouldn't trust your belongings unattended," I watched his reaction but he didn't even bat an eyelid.

I lead him through to my office, I gestured for him to take a seat, he dropped his bag next to the chair he dropped himself into.

"Okay, before you say anything I know you've already talked to me about my behaviour and being late, but I am trying to be better and I do really need this job," he stated.

"Why?"

"Sorry?"

"Why do you need this job?"

"Honestly, for the money,"

"The $10, 000 that you've stolen wasn't enough?" I asked casually.

"What?"

"I've noticed that money has been going missing or not adding up. So I went back through the books and since we've opened $10, 000 has disappeared,"

"And you think I did it?" His tone had gotten defensive.

"I know you did it,"

"You have no proof,"

"I do actually, I had CCTV installed," I nodded.

"It's illegal to install CCTV and not have some sort of signage informing people they're being recorded,"

"It's also illegal to steal, but you're right and that would be why there is a sign on the front door and behind the bar," I nodded.

"There is not, I would have noticed them,"

"You have had verbal warnings, about your behaviour and lack of interest in showing up on time. You were already on thin ice, so just in case it wasn't clear, you are fired and I will be reporting this to the police,"

THEA

I was taking photos of Shawn and Austin's collab class. There was a lot of collab classes today, I think that's half the reason they asked me to come out today. I wasn't sure how the class had managed to learn any of the choreography with the way these two mess around.

"Are you sure you don't want to jump in and learn a few steps?" Shawn asked.

"I'm okay behind the camera, besides I can't really dance," I shook my head.

"Yes you can, you do burlesque which is basically the same thing," Austin stated.

"It is not the same thing, my burlesque routines don't really have any dance structure, I just have to be flirty and sexy. It doesn't require any technique, just a shimmy here and there,"

"Don't downplay your ability, I've seen you perform,"

"So has everyone," I retorted.

"Dude," he frowned at me.

"Now you sound like BM," Shawn also frowned.

"Of relax, it's a joke," I rolled my eyes.

"Just learn a few steps, you do have your one free class voucher thing that we got you for your birthday," Austin encouraged.

I was going to tell them to stop asking because it wasn't going to happen when I noticed Doobin and Charlie out the door sneaking into an empty room. I was assuming Charlie was following my advice so instead, I let out a sigh, turned my camera off and said;

"Fine, but I'm warning you, I can't dance,"

The taught me a few steps with the other students, some of the girls who were clearly only taking the class because of the way Shawn and Austin look bickered to one another while giving me unhappy stares. I had to admit I was doing pretty well, until they wanted us to put all the steps together, rather quickly. Honestly, I probably would have been fine if it was something slower rather than a hip hop class. some parts were manageable but some of them were too fast for me to remember the steps and keep pace.

"Oh honey," Austin laughed.

"I told you," I huffed.

"Charlie has to see this," Shawn stated, heading for the door as Austin tried to teach me the steps to the beat.

I panicked, I knew that Charlie and Doobin were still in that room and if Shawn went looking for Charlie, then he was probably going to find his brother in her and that's not something anyone needs. I couldn't think of anything to say to keep Shawn in the room so instead, I faked a fall, except the fake fall felt like it did some real damage.

I let out a shriek as pain shot through my foot, I was sure that I had heard something pop or snap. I let a few curse words slip out of my mouth while internally cursing myself for getting myself into this situation.

"Let me look," Austin knelt down.

"No, don't touch it," I snapped.

"I can't help you if I can't see it," He frowned at me.

"Austin I swear if you touch me I'll hit you," I warned, the pain was setting in properly and tears were beginning to form in my eyes.

I looked pleadingly at Shawn, I did not want to sit in the middle of a group of judgy girls and cry. I didn't like to cry in public as it was, I definitely didn't want to do it where was right now. Shawn seemed to forget what he was doing and came straight over to me.

"Put your arm around my neck," Shawn instructed sliding an arm under my knees and using the other to support my back.

I wanted to object, I wasn't an infant I didn't need to be picked up. But I was pretty sure that if they tried to help me walk out of here that I would just start crying. I sighed and put an arm around his neck, hiding my face in his chest as the tears started to fall.

"I'll just take her to the staff room and take a look," he told Austin.

"I've got this, just make sure our clumsy little friend is okay," Austin tried to joke.

"Asshole," I choked out.

"Come on you," Shawn started walking out of the room.

He walked me through the building into the staff room where he sat me on the couch. He knelt down in front of me and reached for my foot.

"No," I sobbed.

"Thea I have to look at it," he sighed.

"No, it hurts and if you take the shoe off it's just going to hurt more, what if taking off the show actually does damage?" I rambled.

"Thea, seriously?" he frowned at me.

"What? I don't know I'm in pain," I cried. The initial pain just kept intensifying.

"Fine, I'll go and get Charlie," he sighed.

"No," I stood up to stop him and instantly regretted.

"Why did you do that?" he frowned.

"I don't know," I sobbed.

"Are you going to let me look at it?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Fine," I sighed covering my eyes so that I couldn't see when he was doing it, I knew that if I saw him go to take my show off I would pull away and then he would go and find Charlie and probably find more than he thought he would and me hurting myself will have all been for nothing.

"How is she doing?" Austin came walking in.

"She's only just letting me look at it," Shawn stated.

I felt the pressure release as he pulled my shoe off my foot, there was a sharp pain and I squeaked out which I wasn't very proud of.

"This is so weird," Austin stated.

"What?" I panicked looking at my foot, which had instantly bruised.

"You acting like a girl," He said.

"Don't do that, I thought something was wrong with my foot," I threw a cushion at him.

"There she is," he smirked.

"There is something wrong with your foot," Shawn frowned at me at the same time.

"It looks bad," Austin agreed.

"I think it's broken, but we'll have to take you to the hospital to be sure," Shawn stood up looking around the room.

"I'm sure it's fine, if it's still bad in the morning then I'll go to the hospital," I tried to shrug it off.

"Thea, it's bruised, you're still crying so clearly you're in a lot of pain, and as we speak the swelling is increasing. Were going to the hospital now, not in the morning," Shawn went all parent on me.

"But I don't want to go to the hospital," I mumbled.

"Dude, just take your shirt off, she'll stop talking if she's surrounded by abs," Austin stated.

"You take your shirt off, I need to find a pressure bandage," Shawn frowned at him.

"My abs do nothing for her," he sighed.

"Can we just bandage my foot and take me home?" I asked.

"Sure but we're stopping at the hospital first," Shawn agreed sitting through cupboards.

"Why? It's probably just bruised and sprained. Maybe it's a pulled muscle but I think I fall over enough to know if it's broken or not," I really didn't like going to hospitals, especially not for myself.

"Thea, we're going to the hospital," Shawn stated ad my phone buzzed in my pocket.

"I really don't think it's necessary," I sighed checking my messages.

ChaCha: So, I'm going to Doobin's to test your theory. Keep Shawn distracted for me?

"Thea,"

"Okay fine," 8 sighed again.

Thea: Not a problem.

"Let me just go tell Charlie," Shawn seemed released.

"I would rather you didn't,

"Let's just take her to the hospital before she changes her mind," Austin stated,

"I'll text Charlie," I nodded.

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uberrapidash · 4 years

Text

This is a post I made on Facebook, but I’m also putting it here since I can tag it and find it again later.

Hey, guys.

This post is somewhat self-reflection, processing, and validation, and somewhat PSA-ish/FYI-ish since I am posting it online.

Mental health is nuts. It affects everything. I took an Adderall this morning for the first time in over a month and a half, and it changes everything. I know I have shared about how Adderall changes everything for me before, but this time is different in some important ways because of the circumstances.

At some point during the spring semester this year, I began seeing a new PCP and a new psychiatrist, since I'm in a new city and actually have health insurance. I was diagnosed with ADHD at the age of 29, this year. It was like a dream come true, because it was so incredibly validating, but also because I thought I would be able to get all the help I needed because I had this Very Important Answer now.

However, that was not the case. Upon diagnosis, I asked the psychiatrist if there were any support groups or resources that I could access to learn about my newly-confirmed Neuro-Divergent Brain™. She said she didn't know of any. So I have been learning about how my brain works through Youtube videos, Reddit posts, and the experiences that other people share with me.

At the same time that this was happening, I continued searching for answers about my ongoing mysterious health problems. One of the FIRST things that my PCP jumped on was to tell me, in clear terms, repeatedly, that I needed to ask my psychiatrist about putting me on something for "psychological pain." What she means by this is that she thinks that my body pain happens because of something going on in my brain, or that my brain is heightening normal aches and pains for some reason. And so I began taking Cymbalta (prescribed by the psych). This was later in the semester by now.

After being on the Cymbalta for about a month, I could no longer take my Adderall - I found that any time I took Adderall, I became extremely anxious, would physically shake and feel ill, and it was just all around a bad time. (Adderall is not a drug that you need to keep in your system - you can start it and stop it at any time. Cymbalta is one of those drugs that has to build up in your system. It takes like a minimum of two weeks to even start seeing how it affects you.) There was clearly something going on between the two drugs, so the clear choice was to not take the Adderall while I got in touch with the psych.

Now, at this time, I did not have an appointment set up with the psychiatrist, because she wanted to go two whole months before seeing me again (which seems like a really bad idea considering that I was still new on the Cymbalta... it baffled me when she told me that and I was not happy with it). So I made a mental note that I needed to make an appointment ASAP because this wasn't working.

Except... It's now July, and I still have not made an appointment. I have run out of Cymbalta and cannot get a refill because it needs to go through the doc. And I am in this situation because that's just how low-functioning I have been since starting the Cymbalta.

I needed to have been closely monitored. I needed to have frequent appointments. And when I didn't pick up the phone or return the calls to the psych's office, they should have kept calling me.This is the nature of mental illness. It controls everything. Your brain controls everything you do. I need someone to be assigned to my case to make sure that my life isn't falling apart, especially when I've been given new meds. I'm not the only one. And this isn't my first time going through something like this. The entire mental health field needs a lot of work.

Anyway... I haven't had Cymbalta in a few days, and I took Adderall today for the first time in a while. It's like putting glasses on. It's like an enormous heavy fog has been lifted. It's like I have been pulled out of a pool of molasses.

So... I am now capable of making that appointment, which I actually needed months ago. How fucked up is that?

__________

This is what it's like to be on the wrong meds, or to be unmedicated:

Every day for over a month, I have woken up every morning thinking about all of the really important things that needed doing, but as if I were chained to a pole or being held hostage in a cage, I could not do them. I was so sick that I had thoughts of telling Aaron that I needed help doing these things, but I couldn't even communicate it to him. That might sound impossible to someone who has never experienced any sort of mental illness or brain fog or executive dysfunction, but I and millions of other people are crying out about how so very real it is.

Today, after starting to gain some separation from the Cymbalta and after taking an Adderall, here are some things that have been different that I wasn't able to do before:

- I told Aaron basically the above paragraph ^^^ (Contrast: remaining silent on these problems... not communicating my plight at all whatsoever)

- I reached out to two (2) dear friends because I wanted to know how they are doing (Contrast: not reaching out to the people I love, ever)

- I drink water when I notice thirst (Contrast: becoming so thirsty that it's too distracting to ignore, getting a headache, increased body aches)

- I changed clothes once I recognized that what I was wearing was too warm (Contrast: suffering for hours until I felt sick from being too hot and couldn't do anything else, until doing something to alleviate that suffering)

- easily and efficiently gave my body breakfast (Contrast: not eating anything until I feel sick/am extremely physically weak)

- nearly automatically cleaned up after lunch (Contrast: leaving the mess until it's in the way at a later time)

- easily and efficiently picked up some dishes and trash in the apartment (Contrast: seeing dishes/trash, thinking "I want to clean that up/put that away," and not being able to make my body do the thing)

- not running into things when I walk around, being able to carry objects easily, and being able to efficiently pick up and put down multiple items without much effort. AKA - better motor control

- scheduled a time to go grocery shopping today (and I'm going to make a grocery list and meal plan after I'm done typing this) (Contrast: another day without having gone grocery shopping, another day of fast food)

The list goes on and will continue to go on...

__________

Shame on my PCP for pushing on the "psychological pain" thing instead of doing more to actually discover what is wrong with my body. Shame on me for seeing that red flag, but going along with it anyway. I feel like I'm constantly torn between wanting to trust medical professionals, who have had years and years of education and practice, and wanting to fight them. I thought I was in good hands. But add this onto the list of stuff that quickly built up with that doctor... I won't be seeing her again.

#personal #medical #adult adhd #mental health #adhd

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