#but. the nerves are still on fire. might have a heart attack in the theater

[nattikay]

does anyone else have a thing where their special interest causes like. a physiological reaction. Like you see new information about it and your heart is pounding and your nerves are on fire?

I don’t mean like in a positive “yay I’m so hyped and excited!!!” way either. More like anxiety if anything. idk how to explain it properly

[slippinmickeys]

Five Seconds (6/8)

If you’d like to read this on AO3, go here. 

October 21, 2018

It had been years since he'd had to employ tradecraft. Mulder pulled to the curb one block over and two blocks up from Darlene's. He triple checked that his Glock was loaded and dashed across the lawn of the house he'd parked in front of, running past the house and through the backyard, vaulting over a low fence and into another backyard. A black and white cocker spaniel came running at him, angrily barking, but lost its nerve when it got within biting range, opting to jog alongside Mulder as he ran through the yard and then down a sidewalk, eventually losing the dog as it reached the end of its invisible fence.

He slowed as he got to Darlene's block, scanning the street for any sign of an idling car, a criminal, an accomplice. He saw nothing but Scully's car -- the one Lily had lately been borrowing -- parked in Darlene's driveway, the hood still warm.

He was quietly approaching the side yard when a shot rang out, and then another.

Heart in his throat, Mulder vaulted over the small railing that bordered Darlene's small patio and skidded to stop in front of her sliding glass door which had been left open, the curtains fluttering outside on the breeze. He moved on tiptoes, waiting until the curtain blew away from the doorway, showing him a clear view into the house. He saw nothing. He entered, gun-first, his breath coming in adrenaline-laced gasps.

He heard a shuffle from further inside the house, then a low female curse.  

When he quiet-stepped his way past the kitchen counter and looked into the dining room, he saw Darlene slumped against the wall, a hand pressed to a blood-soaked shoulder. The arm that had been shot hung limply at her side, her fingers still curled loosely around the handle of a pistol. Her brow was pale, laced with sweat. They made eye contact.

Darlene held up a blood-soaked finger. One. "In the bedroom," she mouthed, and he nodded at her, moving cat-like on rubber-soled shoes, wishing he could feel the snub-nosed steel of Scully's Sig backing him up.

He could practically feel the movement on the other end of the hallway, the air tense as an execution chamber, the whispered rustling of clothing, the sharp smell of cordite still hanging in the air.

When he finally got to the bedroom doorway at the end of the hall, it took him a second to see the man in the room, crouched down next to the bed, the gun hidden behind his back.

"Come on out of there, princess," the man said, softly, like he was coaxing a hissing cat.

Mulder felt a blaze of red-hot anger, a parental rage so acute it felt like a tuning fork had pinged off his bones.

"Hey," he said, more of a hiss than a word, and the man's eyes went wide and his gun swung up just as Mulder fired, three times center-mass. The man fell back on a spray of blood.

Mulder threw himself to the floor on the other side of the bed.

"Lil, it's Dad," he said, "Look at me."

Lily was prone under the queen-sized bed, face-down on the other side, but she was looking at Mulder, wide-eyed, but apparently unhurt.

"Are you injured?" he asked calmly.

She gave a quick shake of her head and licked her lips, and Mulder could see that she was about to turn to look at what was left of her attacker.

"Come this way, baby," he said, holding out a hand to her while she shimmied slowly toward him. When she finally reached him, her hands were like ice. He pulled her the rest of the way out and onto her feet, where she stood, dazed, touching her hair and getting her bearings. He moved his body in between her and the dead man on the floor on the other side of the bed, ushering her quickly out of the room and down the hallway.

When they got to the dining room, Darlene was breathing quickly but was still conscious, and she tossed a keychain at Mulder, which he caught one handed. There was a smear of blood on the ring, which he wiped on his shirt.

"Silver CR-V, two blocks east," Darlene wheezed, "don't stop for anything."

Mulder, not heeding her advice, stopped by where the phone hung on her kitchen wall and dialed 911, stretching the cord as long as it would go and pressing it into Darlene’s hand. He pressed his gun into the other and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you,” he said seriously, then grabbed a shocky Lily by the hand, pulled her through the theater-curtain of the breezy drapery and out into the daylight.

XxXxXxXxXxX

They'd had go-bags packed as a matter of course -- Scully had thrown them into the back of the CR-V in the parking lot of the defunct Family Video where Mulder told she and Will to meet them.

He’d leaned over and thrown open her door for her as Will swung into the backseat. He was driving before she’d even buckled her seatbelt.

“Plan C?” Scully asked. Mulder had been checking the rearview mirror more than he was checking the road. He nodded once, curtly. “We should head East,” she went on. “If they’re tracking our phones, let’s let them think they know where we’re going before we lose them.”

“On it,” Mulder said, merging onto the highway.  

After a few miles, the tension in the car eased slightly.

"Hey Dad?" said Will from the back seat. Mulder looked in the rear view mirror and connected eyes with his son. "What about the cats?" the boy asked.

Mulder thunked his head back against the head rest. "We'll figure it out, bud."

"Travis could probably do it," Lily volunteered shyly.

"How do we know Travis wasn't the one who tipped them off to our location?" Mulder asked, barely keeping a rein on his anger and fear.

"Mulder," Scully admonished quietly from beside him. She peered back at their daughter who had tears in her eyes.

"Because it was me," Lily quietly, whose face then crumpled.

Mulder slammed on the brakes and pulled the car over hard to the shoulder of the highway, gravel and dirt spitting out from under the tires. The cars that had been behind them honked liberally as they flew by. He craned his neck back at his daughter before the car had stopped moving.

"What?!" he said.

"I -- I," she started, then took a deep breath and continued, "I did a search in a university computer lab a few days ago. Then someone started following me. I lost him-"

Mulder and Scully both interrupted her at the same time.

"-What did you search-" "-And you didn't tell us-"

She looked between the two of them, clearly trying to figure out who to answer first. Finally, to Scully she said, "I wasn't even really sure he was following me. And I didn't want to scare anyone. I did what you taught me to do -- I shook him and then I went to Darlene. I didn't want to lead him home." Scully reached back and put her hand over her daughter’s, who clutched back at her desperately. "And now Darlene might be dead!"

"I think Darlene is going to be okay, Lily," Mulder said. She would have reached out to the Gunmen first thing, who would have sent someone in to protect her. “I called 911 -- she was shot in the shoulder --" he looked to Scully, passing off the conversational baton.

"Was she conscious when you left her?" Scully asked. Lily nodded, sniffing. "Shoulder gunshot wounds are easily survivable. I'm sure she'll be okay,” Scully ‘finished, sounding more sure than she felt.

Mulder took a deep breath, gripping the steering wheel like a vice.

"Lily, what did you search?" he finally asked, his voice as calm as he could make it.

The girl sniffed again and looked up. "You," she simply said, looking at her father.

Scully looked at Mulder and could feel his heart breaking for his daughter from where he sat. He sighed heavily.

“Pass up your phones,” he finally said, “everybody.”

The kids complied, handing over their phones to their mother. Mulder looked at Scully, then signaled and pulled back on the expressway when there was an opening.  “Can you pop the SIMs?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Good,” he said. “Think you can make a Faraday bag, Scully?”

“What’s a Faraday bag?” Will asked.

Scully was studying the phones, looking for the SIM trays on the side of each device. “It’s an enclosure used to block electromagnetic fields,” she said without looking up.

She looked to Mulder and smiled briefly. “I’ll only need a few supplies.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder pulled the ball cap low over his face and donned a pair of sunglasses. While the car was filling up, he went inside the gas station and grabbed a small shopping basket, filling it up with junk food and bottles of water, aluminum foil from the small kitchen section, batteries. On his way to the register, keeping his face down to avoid the cameras, he grabbed one large foil-lined bag of potato chips and plunked them all on the counter, paying for the lot in cash. He muttered a thank you as the cashier handed him the plastic bag of loot, and he whisked through the door of the station, pulling out the large bag of chips as he made his way back to the silver CR-V. He wordlessly handed Scully all the food but the chips as she was resecuring the gas nozzle and closing the car's gas hatch. Mulder tore open the bag of chips, dumped the contents in the waste bin next to the gas pump and jumped in the car with the empty bag. He pulled out of the gas station so quickly that the tires chirped on the asphalt.

"Mulder," Scully said shakily, a warning: calm down.  

Three miles later on Southbound I-69, he pulled illegally into a utility pass-through. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone, and handed it to his wife.  

“Last one?” he asked, and she nodded. She had the other three phones up on the dash, their SIM cards already removed.

She went through the supplies he’d gotten at the gas station and looked critically at the empty potato chip bag.

“Do you have what you need?”

She nodded. Five minutes later, her work complete, she looked up.

“Done,” she said.

He took the bag from her, dropped the phones inside and shoved it into the console. They turned north.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder pulled the CR-V to a stop when a sapling in the middle of the two-track made further driving impossible.

"End of the road, guys," he said, and cut the engine. "Get your bags out of the back," he said to his children, "Will, I want you to carry your mom's."

"'Kay," said his son, and made his way to the trunk.

Lily had been quiet for hours. He moved around the car to help Scully out and she gave him a look. Give her something to do . He nodded.

He pulled the handwritten map that Lauren had given him out of his back pocket and handed it to his daughter. "I'm going to stick with your mom," he told her, "see if you can suss out this map."

Lily nodded and looked around to orient herself. When he came back to Scully's side, she gripped his arm and took a bracing breath. Alarmed, he bent his knees to try to look into her eyes.

"Scully?" he said, trying to keep the worry out of his voice, "you okay?"

She nodded after a moment and gave him a toothless smile.

"Just… feeling heavy today," she said.

Moments later, Lily led the way and he lifted a low hanging hemlock branch for his wife to pass beneath. He tried not to think too much about how slowly she moved through the duff.

XxX

When they broke through the clearing, the autumn light was waning, and the shadows lay long upon the ground. They were all of them covered from the knee down with burrs and leaf detritus, and though the cabin looked low and shabby and damp, it did offer the eyes a break from the monotony of forest, and for that it was a welcome sight.

It was a small structure, the original part of it a log cabin hewn from large hardwoods, with an addition on the south side of what looked like a combination of particle board and tin that had been at one time painted red. The corners of the addition -- held up by several two-by-fours nailed together -- did appear to have been chewed on at shoulder height, supporting Lauren's handyman's assertion that moose had been here.

Above the door of the main cabin, which was secured with a latch and rusted padlock, was nailed a grey and weathered sign, hand carved with "Camp Hi-Early."

"Come on guys," he said, taking Scully by the elbow and digging his other hand deep into his pockets to pull out the key Lauren had given him months back in a polished high rise in DC. It felt like a lifetime and another world ago.

It took several tries with the key before he was able to unhinge the creaking lock, and he then had to drive a shoulder hard into the door, where the wood had expanded in the damp and stuck to the doorframe. It knocked back into the interior wall and he finally stumbled inside.

It was dark and smelled of old mold layered with the pungent brine of red cedar — the wood of which was frequently used in construction to ward off vermin. Mulder hoped it had worked. The floor was an old grey linoleum scattered with grit and bits of leaves which had blown in from the small crack at the base of the door. To the right of the doorway stood a tall newer looking gas can which Mulder found was nearly topped off when he bent down to pick it up. Next to it was a long black Maglight which he handed to Scully. He held up the gas can as she stepped into the cabin, her face one of skeptical distaste.

"I'm going to go fire up the genny," he said, as she clicked on the flashlight and shone it into the cabin's dark corners.

The generator, out back on the far end of the cabin near the outhouse, rested on a sturdy-looking wooden platform, and appeared to have been serviced at least somewhat recently. He was more than a little relieved when it started after only three tries.

When he came back into the cabin a moment or two later, Scully already had the overhead lights switched on, and was having the kids pull tarps and coverings off of the bunks in the cabin's addition. She was standing in front of a cedar cabinet, cautiously sniffing at several wool blankets that were folded within it.

"There are some mice droppings," she said, nodding toward the interior of the space, "but it's not bad. Needs to be swept and given a good scrubbing, but I think we'll survive."

Mulder nodded at her and eyed the pot bellied stove that took up most of one corner. There was a chill and it lent the cabin a dank, depressing air. The sooner they got the place warm, the better.

"There's a woodpile out back," he said, "see if you can get the kids to bring in a few armfuls."

She nodded brusquely and then braced her hand against the cabinet for a moment.

"I'm fine, Mulder," she said when she sensed his concerned gaze. "It's nothing."

When she appeared to move about normally, Mulder peered around the cabin as the kids headed out for the wood pile. The walls were mostly bare, but for a handful of cheap Kmart picture frames with fuzzy black and white stills of men dressed in flannel and Stormy Kromers standing next to the rigor-stiff remains of various woodland creatures. There were several mounted deer heads, most looking glassy-eyed and mangey, but for one 12-pointer on the far wall who had a dusty, archaic looking rifle balancing on his impressive rack. In the kitchen, on the wall above the yellowed, bowing countertop hung one color picture -- the patina of the paper suggested it had been developed sometime in the mid to late 70's -- of Clio with her arm around the shoulder of a raven-haired, gap-toothed child, who Mulder instantly knew to be Lauren, whose hand was resting around the barrel of a rifle that was taller than she was. It looked to be the same firearm decorating the taxidermy.

Scully gave a sniff from over his shoulder and he turned to see her looking at the piece.

"Think it still shoots?" she asked.

The thing probably hadn't been cleaned in thirty years, inside or out.

"Think I'll stick with your Sig," he replied. Though his wife had better marksmanship, she'd handed over her service weapon when they'd arrived, deferring to his instincts and the fact that he was currently more fleet of foot. Mulder had left his own weapon at the scene at Darlene's, pressing it into her hand with a quick kiss to her cheek and an inadequate thanks.

He had carried in not only his own pack of clothes and toiletries, but also the meager supplies that they'd picked up in a small IGA outside of St. Ignace, just over the bridge to the Upper Peninsula. It was mainly powdered Lipton soups and Ramen, crackers and Gatorade mix; lightweight supplies that were high in calories and easy to store and make with water from the hand pumped well just outside the cabin's door. He kept them in the zipped duffel he'd carried them in and left it on the small counter that served as the cabin's kitchen.

The kitchen itself was meagerly supplied with a couple of old pots and pans, plastic cups with the scratched and faded visage of Bozo the Clown on them. Thin, hand-me-down plates and bowls. A colander. A ceramic pitcher. In the middle of the countertop, in front of a small window was a large porcelain basin that served as the sink, under which, behind a faded gingham curtain sat an old, gummy bottle of Dawn, a gallon of generic white vinegar and an old metal pail.

Reconnaissance completed, it took him several minutes to figure out how to open the flue on the pot bellied stove and he built a small fire, hoping nothing had built a nest or somehow otherwise stopped up the small metal chimney. When it seemed to draw okay, he added more wood -- which was well seasoned and fairly dry, considering -- until he had a roaring fire. The wood popped and crackled as it burned, cheerful.

XxX

“The seat in the outhouse is fucking freezing,” Lily said as she came in the doorway.

Dawn had barely broken and the light outside the cabin was cold and gray. It had been a long night. The woods surrounding the cabin weren’t quiet, and everyone was jumpy, having slept fitfully on the creaking twin beds in the bunk room.

Mulder looked to Scully, who normally would have at the very least leveled a firm look at their daughter for language, but Scully merely sat there, and when she caught him looking at her, said:

“It is, though.”

By noon, cabin fever had set in. They’d played Hearts with a deck of cards Scully had found in the kitchen with a Joker sitting in for a missing five of spades. They’d eaten lunch. Mulder had massaged Scully’s lower back when she complained of pain. The minutes passed like hours.

By the time it was early afternoon, Will had found a long stick in the trees near the cabin, the end curved like a hockey stick, which he was using to hit pinecones into the side of the structure, each tatty thud further fraying already scattered and jumpy nerves. Mulder finally had to go outside and tell him to find two saplings to aim through because one more thunk into the wall outside where the rest of the family sat and Lily was likely to try to break the stick over her knee and impale him with it, and as far as Mulder and Scully were concerned, no jury would convict her.

Boredom was getting the better of them. Will sat on a bed in the bunk room, running the improvised hockey stick round and round though his fingers in a circle on the floor. Scully fitfully napped, Lily sulked and cracked her knuckles. Even Mulder felt the occasional pang for the dopamine hit of a checked handheld screen.

Mulder stood.

"I'm going to run out to the road," he said, "try to check in with the guys."

Scully, who was laying on her side on a cot that Mulder had pulled closer to the potbellied fireplace just for another place to sit, opened her eyes.

"Are you sure that's wise?" she asked.

"I'm sure the guys have buried the signals on our phones by now," he said. "And I should check in with Lauren -- it's been a while."

"Be careful, Mulder," Scully said, and gave him a significant look.

He nodded, looking at her a long moment before looking away.

Scully had dark smudges under her eyes -- she had slept worse than anyone, the old mattresses dipping her abundant hips into uncomfortable positions. She had reached the stage of pregnancy where everything was swollen and sore. Mulder couldn't think of a more miserable situation for her, his chest clutching in sympathy.

"Can I come?" Will piped up suddenly from where he sat.

"Me, too?" asked Lily, who was looking wan and morose from the small dining table in the corner.

"I want one of you to stay with your Mom," Mulder said, looking at Will when he said it, who got the message and smiled sweetly at his mother.

"I'll stay," he volunteered.

Lily shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans as she rose and shuffled to the door. Once they were outside, she turned to him, but didn't make eye contact.

"Lil," he said, anticipating what she was about to say, "we'll check on Darlene."

His daughter pulled her lips into her mouth and nodded, sniffing once.

XxX

Mulder pulled the phone out of their improvised Faraday bag and stood on the side of the road, turning it on on a surge of adrenaline. The guys would have known to scrub the phones and whatever voodoo that was needed so that they couldn’t be traced, but he still felt anxiety. Lily stood beside him, hugging her arms around herself. It was October and cold, and she was only wearing a long sleeved tee shirt.

Once the phone was booted, he looked at the screen. There was hardly a signal, which he supposed wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He walked up and down the road a few paces to see if the signal got any better, but it only ever got worse, losing bars completely. Finally, he stopped and dialed the number for the Gunmen that he’d memorized for emergencies. There was a click after only one ring, and then a buzzing sound. Finally, he heard Langly’s voice, though it was garbled from the bad signal.

“Talk to me,” Langly said.

“Are we clear?” he asked.

The first few words of Langly’s answer were cut off. “--s okay, you’re good. Do not relay your loca--” he was cut off again.

“What’s the status of Melvin’s sister?” he asked, cutting his eyes to Lily.

“--going to be okay.”

He nodded at Lily and gave her a reassuring smile, at which point Lily visibly relaxed.

“Ears to the ground,” Mulder said, “what are they hearing?”

“--put -- unconfir -- danger. If you -- wife -- do not --”

The call dropped. Frustrated, Mulder squeezed the phone in his hand and walked further up the road, his daughter tailing him like a puppy. He tried a further three times to connect back to the Gunmen without success. He was about to turn off the phone again when he realized that he owed Lauren a check in. He decided to try to text her instead, hoping it would go through.

Plan C, he wrote, FM. He pressed send. The phone’s ‘sending’ message shone for at least thirty seconds when he thought he heard the approach of a car over the rise to the west. He quickly shut off the phone and threw it back into the potato chip bag, grabbed Lily’s elbow and they darted into the trees lining the road.

A minute later a truck roared past, pulling a trailer nattily painted in homemade camouflage.

“Dad?” Lily whispered from where she was crouched next to him when the truck was long gone.

“It’s fine,” Mulder said, standing. Lily rose next to him. “Lots of sportsmen up here. It’s almost hunting season.”

They trudged along the two-track as they headed back to the cabin and Mulder put the bag with the phones back into the glove box as they passed the car. Before they left it, Mulder asked Lily to help him cover up the reflective lights and license plate with brush. That finished, they walked on in silence.

They weren’t far from the cabin when he finally spoke.

“You know none of this is your fault, right?”

"What?" she asked, as though she didn't hear him.

He stopped walking and so did she, looking at him in question.

"None of this is your fault, Lily."

"I don't-"

"Lily."

Realization started to dawn on her and he saw tears form in her eyes.

He said it again: "None of this is your fault, Lily. Darlene, being at this cabin, none of it. Your mother and I don't blame you, and no matter what happens, we never will. None of this. Is. Your. Fault."

With that, tears fell from her eyes and she launched herself at her father, pressing her head into his chest and squeezing him around the middle tightly. "It's okay," he whispered into her hair, brushing it back from her forehead. Her breath hissed out from her as though from a release valve. He held her for a very long time.

[local80smotel]

All knowing love

pairing; V x Trans Man! Reader

summary; being under V's loving and watchful eye.

requested; Anonymous

rating; T

warnings; transphobia, parental abuse (physical), hints of suicide (but never outright said)

word count; 2185

A/N; this isn't wasn't the fluffiest thing I could write but once talking to my trans boyfriend I couldn't help but feel having a bit of angst was acceptable.

When Y/N was still just a child, he knew something was off about him. Not something "bad" or "wrong" that people would call this feeling when he'd tell them. "It's just a phase" was a comment that was thrown at them mostly by their parents when they were still in their teens, just before high Chancellor Sutler was ever in the eye of politics. Oh, how those days would seem like a humid southern summer walk compared to when Sutler came into the picture. The transphobia he had experienced grew like how weeds grow in futile soil.

The comments like "You're confused" slowly started to warp into something more demeaning to the boy as the Chancellor candidate's toxic grip on the people of England started to squeeze any "unwanted" life out of it. "Undesirable" life as he would call it. When hair was cut after Sutler was elected, there weren't small arguments anymore that would be fixed when he'd be asked if he were hungry and wanted to eat supper with them. It became violent and unlike the people who had raised him for the last 15 years. Having handfuls of freshly cut hair be ripped out because his mother was holding him by his scalp just to yell in his face how much of a monster he was broke his heart.

Was it fear that caused this? Were they scared of losing their only child as many other families had? Was their bundle of joy in their life really an undesirable and the cause of this virus outbreak? Just why? He'd ask himself that as he was packing his bags in preparation to leave the family home for good.

Three long years had passed and at the ripe age of 18, he moved out into the busy streets of London. A small pit in his stomach began to form as the sickening feeling came back. The cause of it was from one simple but yet complex question; could he survive in this fascist regime? Sadness also fueled this emotional fire, sadness from knowing he'd have to use so many things he knew was wrong and didn't describe him truthfully just so he could get a place to come to when curfew hit; The name that was long dead to him the second it was given to him and female pronouns. He'd be signing his own death certificate if he put Y/N instead of his deadname on his application to rent.

They'd look it up and find no Y/N L/N in England and call the police on him in a split second. Shivers ran down his spine as he imagined what would happen to him if that became a reality. No one knew what happened when you were deemed "undesired" but everyone after having Sulter for three years knew that they would go missing and would be never seen of or heard from again. You were just wiped off the face of the Earth.

Y/N lucky had enough money saved from working in retail for the past 2 years to get a small apartment. When he was finally given the keys to the place he couldn't help but sigh in relief. At least in this tiny space, he could be his true self without shaking in fear as he had in his past while being stuck in his parents' home. The next three years were some of the worse when it came to dysphoria. Being forced to go to work almost every day and be called ma'am or miss and be deadnamed constantly damaged his mental health to the point it felt easier just to be open with his identity.

Anything would be better than being forced to hide in this shell of terror. Nights of panic attacks and sobbing that sounded like a wounded animal as he laid on the rotten wooden floor became a routine. On the morning of his 21st birthday, he woke up in the late afternoon. There was no panic in him when he realized he was late for work, how could someone care when this would be their last day on Earth?

With scissors in his hand, he grabbed his hair and began to chop it off sloppily but that didn't matter to him as long as it was finally short like it was when he was a child, and that was enough for him. The thought that when the police would see him, that'd see a man instead of what society had deemed him brought a smile to the young adult. The feeling of freedom pumped through his veins as he went on with his day. It felt odd but refreshing to feel the cold air from his AC on his neck as he fixed himself some bacon and eggs. It wasn't the fanciest thing someone could eat on this day, but it was enough for him.

Around ten AM he left his flat, walking with newfound confidence due to his hair and now his wrapped chest. He had heard from the grapevine that wrapping one's chest in medical bandages could cause serious damage like nerve loss but one this final day he decided to risk it so he could pass in normal daily life. Being called sir by ticket seller at the movies brought him so much joy as he grabbed his "Count of Monte Cristo" tickets and wished them a good day as he went deeper into the movie theater to find theater four to watch the movie. Y/N was somewhat surprised to see only one other person in the audience. Sure, he was 10 minutes late but this was a classic film that was finally being let out of the vault to be watched again! Nevertheless, the man sat down a few rows in front of the figure, settling down into the uncomfortable chair.

“I didn't expect you to come.”

He could tell from how the figure's words were muffled that they were wearing a mask. Y/N turned to them with a confused look on their face.

“Excused me?” Y/N asked but their confusion just deepened as he saw that the figure was wearing.

A Guy Fawkes mask with a matching hat while wearing pitch-black clothing. The man under the mask chuckled as they stood up, Y/N couldn't help but be slightly intimidated by the height of this masked figure.

“I should have done this first so you wouldn't be so perplexed, ” he cleared his throat as began monologing, using many words that start with the letter V in his speech which in turn slightly impressed the 21-year-old.

“But you can simply call me V.”

"V" said while taking a bow

Y/N couldn't help but snicker at this display of some kind of knightship which in turn had V cocked his head in slight confusion on what could be so funny

“Well, Mr. V, might I ask why you're here alone?”

“I could ask you the same thing, but as I am apparently on a tight schedule I won't elaborate”

“Tight sch-” the man interrupted them by placing his leather glove covered finger on top of their lips

“Yes, very much tight schedule as I only have 2 hours till your self made demise am I correct?”

He was blown away at the fact this random stranger knew of his most shameful plan, but the feeling of shock was soon replaced with anger. This creep was stalking me! He thought as he slapped away the masked man, getting up from his chair as he did so.

“You have some right talking to me like that!” he yelled as he started to march away from them.

V reached out and grabbed their hair in a somewhat gentle way

“Y/N wait please, ” he sighed as Y/N stopped who's face was twisted in bitterness “I understand how you feel Y/N, I truly do. I was labeled an undesirable so please don't think that I've been keeping an eye on you in for any other reason than just to keep you safe.”

When he said this Y/N rage seemed to melt away slowly. How was he able to survive being an undesirable? So many questions filled the male's head but the only word he could speak was

“How?”

V let go of his hair as he straightened his posture “If you come with me I'll tell you.”

The more sensible side of the man told him to run away from this masked freak and enjoy what little time you had left in peace but something stopped him. After a moment of silence, he nodded to V's pleasure. He took the 21-year old by the hand and lead them to the back exit. The two walked down the alley and what drew Y/N's eye other than the 6'3 black mass was the posters. Every single one they pasted seemed to have a V cut into them.

He broke the long silence with another question “Did you mark those posters?”

“Does a raven speak?”

“But why?”

V didn't stop walking but he could feel his eyes on him. For being an undesirable he sure seems fine being out after curfew Y/N thought as they waited for the answer.

“The people deserve a symbol. Something to get them through this.”

He opened his mouth to ask what he meant by that but quickly shut it once the meanings of the words came to mind. Maybe he wasn't this creep, more like this country's guardian angel that would save them all from high Chancellor Sutler. It didn't take long for him to reach what Y/N guessed as V's home which turned out to be an abandoned Victoria station. Y/N looked over at him with an eyebrow raised as V opened the hatch that kept the station locked to the public who had originally thought it was abandoned. V turned back to the man and gave him his hand simply saying "follow me, sir Y/N".

Once V was given the curious man's hand he rubbed his thumb over their knuckles before tenderly pulling them inside. He held the hand as they walked in the pitch black, guiding them until they found a giant door which to Y/N's touch felt like it had complex carvings in them. When the masked man opened the door Y/N couldn't help but wince as golden light hit his E/C eyes that had just gotten used to the dark. He had expected V to let go of his hand once they reached his "lair" but he didn't. Oh, what a perplexing and mysterious man he was.

Y/N would be lying if he said his face wasn't blushing at this moment in time. V led them deeper into his beautiful home until both of them to were behind his couch which was black leather. In front of the said couch was a glass coffee table with a box on it. Y/N's hand was finally let go of as V sat on the couch.

“Come sit, I have something to give you.”

“But you said-”

“Please?”

He sighed as he complied, arms folded as he sat next to him. V opened the box and to Y/N's surprise, there was a biner in it. Once again, all he could ask was "How?" as all production and selling of items that could help trans folk was banned just as the Koran was. The masked man took the folded bundle into his giant hands and gave it to them once again shocked male.

“Life has been tough enough on you even if we don't add our government into it. Thank you for holding on. For surviving this long and not letting them take away your love for life and your fighting spirit.”

Without any hesitation, Y/N pulled V into a tight embrace with tears threatening to fall. No one had ever put their life in danger to give them this piece of happiness like this stranger had. All he could do was whimper out a "thank you" as a sob shook his chest deeply.

“Since I showed you my lair, you're going to have to stay till the next November the fifth, is that okay?”

Y/N couldn't help but nod immediately. He could finally be somewhere he was truly accepted for who he really was; a man who was just simply given the wrong body at birth.

V placed his hands on top of the weeping H/C man, stroking the uneven hair and placed his head onto the others.

“I'm cooking ham, is that okay?”

“mmhmm..”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

[theowlsarequeer]

Reblog to tell your followers the entirety of Be More Chill (more musicals to come)

Jeremy Heere, a high school junior, is a social outcast. He lives with his recently divorced father, who works from home and makes Jeremy uncomfortable by refusing to wear pants in the house. At school, Jeremy is bullied by popular student Rich Goranski, who writes "boyf" on his backpack. His "best friend", Michael Mell (on whose backpack Rich has written "riends"), tries to comfort Jeremy by telling him that being a loser is okay. Jeremy's long-time crush Christine Canigula signs up for the school play, and he decides to as well. Jeremy wonders if someone can help him "more than survive" ("More Than Survive").

As they wait for the first play rehearsal to begin, Christine professes her love of theater to Jeremy, because she can play different people and always knows what to say and performs ("I Love Play Rehearsal"). The drama teacher, Mr. Reyes, reveals that the school play will be A Midsummer Night's Dream set in a post-apocalyptic future, re-titled A Midsummer Nightmare (About Zombies). During rehearsal, Jake Dillinger, one of the popular boys, flirts with Christine, making Jeremy jealous ("More Than Survive (Reprise)").

Jeremy is confronted in the bathroom by Rich, who tells Jeremy how he managed his rise to popularity: as an unpopular freshman, he took a pill called a "super quantum unit Intel processor"—a "SQUIP"—containing a computer that implants itself inside the user's brain and tells the user what to do and say. Rich suggests that Jeremy buy one in order to become cooler ("The Squip Song").

While playing video games with Michael, Jeremy tells him about Rich's offer. After an awkward conversation with his dad (still not wearing pants), Jeremy decides to check the SQUIP out. Jeremy assures Michael that, no matter what happens, they'll always be a team ("Two-Player Game").

The two visit the mall to buy the SQUIP from a dealer at Payless ShoeSource. Jeremy, as instructed, swallows it with green Mountain Dew. When the SQUIP activates, it causes Jeremy to have a seizure in front of Christine and Jake ("The Squip Enters"). The SQUIP (in the guise of Keanu Reeves), criticizes Jeremy's appearance, personality, and behavior, telling him that everything about him is terrible ("Be More Chill, Pt. 1"). The SQUIP orders him to go to a store to buy a new Eminem shirt. Jeremy encounters two popular girls from school, Brooke Lohst and Chloe Valentine, and the SQUIP helps Jeremy fabricate a story in order to create empathy with the two girls. They offer Jeremy a ride home ("Do You Wanna Ride?"), which the SQUIP demands he accept, but Jeremy declines because he does not wish to leave Michael in the mall. The girls leave, and the SQUIP lies to Jeremy and tells him that Michael has left the mall. It tells him that in order for its plan to improve his social standing to work, Jeremy needs to obey every order it gives him ("Be More Chill, Pt. 2").

The next day, Jeremy heads to school with renewed confidence, wondering if he might be less invisible than before. The SQUIP delves into the inner psyche of the student body around him, giving Jeremy insight on the fears and insecurities of his fellow peers. Jeremy's SQUIP syncs itself with Rich's, instantly making them friends. Jeremy heads confidently to the play rehearsal ("Sync Up"). Christine tells Jeremy about her feelings for a guy she knows, who Jeremy initially believes is himself, but who turns out to be Jake ("A Guy That I'd Kinda Be Into").

Afterward, the SQUIP informs Jeremy that Christine won't date him until his social standing drastically improves. Encouraging Jeremy to use an interested Brooke as a stepping stone to greater popularity, he hooks up with her, while Jake asks Christine to come to his house ("Upgrade"). Overwhelmed, Jeremy asks the SQUIP to shut itself off for a few minutes. Immediately, Jeremy sees Michael and is elated but Michael states that Jeremy has been ignoring him all day. The SQUIP explains that it was using "optic nerve blocking" to block Michael from Jeremy's vision and that in order to be more popular he has to "upgrade to Jeremy 2.0." Jeremy eventually decides he is tired of being a loser and turns on optic nerve blocking, leaving him alone with the SQUIP ("Loser Geek Whatever").

Act Two

On Halloween, Jake hosts a large party that features alcohol and other shenanigans ("Halloween"). Christine arrives in a revealing princess costume, hoping to please Jake, but he brushes her aside to party. Jeremy arrives to meet Brooke, but Chloe, who is jealous of Brooke, tries to seduce Jeremy. Jeremy is uncomfortable and tries to get away, but the SQUIP forces him to remain in the situation as it escalates to Chloe making out with Jeremy ("Do You Wanna Hang?"). Chloe also has Jeremy drink alcohol, causing the SQUIP to malfunction, and then feigns having sex with him, angering Jake and breaking Brooke's heart.

Fleeing from Jake and the girls, Jeremy runs into a bathroom, where he finds Michael, who has crashed the party. Michael tries to warn Jeremy of the dangers of the SQUIP, explaining that someone ended up in a mental hospital after they went crazy trying to get it out of their head. Jeremy accuses Michael of being jealous of his popularity and calls him a loser. Michael, devastated and angry, locks himself in the bathroom, where he has a panic attack and sensory overload as he mourns the loss of his best and only friend ("Michael in the Bathroom"). Jeremy talks to Christine without the SQUIP's help and he asks her out in a burst of confidence ("A Guy That I'd Kinda Be Into (Reprise)"). Christine, who has found herself in an existential crisis after breaking up with Jake, declines.

Meanwhile, Rich goes around the party frantically asking people for Mountain Dew Red. Jeremy's SQUIP finally reactivates and reviews the events of the night, prompting Jeremy to leave the party immediately. Rich, alone and desperate, talks to his SQUIP and then sets the house on fire. The next morning, Jenna Rolan, the school gossip, informs everyone that Rich had burned down Jake's house at the end of the party, sending Rich to the hospital and causing Jake to break both of his legs jumping out of a window while trying to escape. The news spreads throughout the school through text and tweeting ("The Smartphone Hour (Rich Set a Fire)").

At home, Jeremy is confronted by his father (still not wearing pants), who brings up Jeremy's new personality and change in attitude. Jeremy reprimands his father for his behavior since the divorce, calling him a loser as well. Shaken by Jeremy's words, Mr. Heere realizes that something is very wrong and that he must take charge. He tracks down Michael and asks him to not give up on his friend. Michael reluctantly agrees to help, on the condition that Mr. Heere puts on some pants and becomes a better father ("The Pants Song").

As the cast prepares for the play, Jeremy encounters Christine, who is shaken and upset about the fire. Jeremy is unhappy with the relationships he has damaged and angrily blames the SQUIP for his misfortunes. The SQUIP instead blames it on "human error" and tells Jeremy he can improve the lives of the rest of the students, and eventually the whole world, by providing them all with SQUIPs. In Rich's locker, Jeremy finds a box full of SQUIPs, which Jeremy then pours into a beaker of Mountain Dew ("The Pitiful Children").

Backstage during the play, Christine confronts Jeremy over his use of the SQUIP, causing him to doubt the plan. However, the SQUIP has already begun to take over others in the play. The SQUIP reveals its intention to sync the entire student body, and then the whole world. Jeremy comes to a realization: Mountain Dew activates the SQUIP, while Mountain Dew Red deactivates it. Michael reappears from the audience with a bottle of Mountain Dew Red, which he gives to Jeremy after making him apologize for his actions, but a SQUIPed Jake dumps most of it out. Jeremy and Michael fight off the controlled students until the SQUIP reveals that Christine has been SQUIPed, and under its influence, she professes her love for Jeremy. Jeremy, however, realizes this is not what he had wanted and makes Christine drink the last of the red Mountain Dew: this causes a chain reaction that destroys the rest of the SQUIPS ("The Play").

Jeremy wakes up in the hospital, sharing a room with Rich, who proudly comes out to Jeremy as bisexual and is ready to finally be who he really is. Michael visits Jeremy and the two reconcile, and Mr. Heere (finally wearing pants) visits Jeremy as well, informing him that he'll be a better dad. Surrounded by his friends and family, Jeremy realizes that there will always be outside influences, but he needs to learn to make up his own mind instead. He asks Christine out again (for bowling alley performance art), and this time she accepts and kisses him. The SQUIP reveals itself to still be alive, weakly taunting Jeremy from inside his head, but Jeremy ignores it, happily proclaiming that "of all the voices in my head, the loudest one is mine" ("Voices in My Head").

[storytimefromthecreed]

Ghost

It was a mistake, a complete accident, that she ended up at this bar in the opposite direction she had been going. The events leading up to this event were so, she'd left her other shoes at home, had forgotten her theater ticket in her work locker, and Sonny had told her to forget it altogether and they would go out instead. After a long and very tiring day, having a drink with her friend was exactly what she needed.

Sonny and her had definitely gotten close since Mike's passing several years ago. Though the thought of him still brought tears to her eyes and made her heart heavy, Sonny had really helped her through the worst of it. The Crown and Coke she'd been babysitting swirled light, the condensation dripping down the sides. This was Mike's drink. That alone brought a small smile to her lips as she took a sip. Guess he still had his affect on her after all this time.

She pulled out her phone and read a text from Sonny saying he was on his way, so she relaxed at her seat and people watched. This wasn't their usual hang out. Usually, Sonny would've liked to take her to a cleaner, less rowdy, and probably more pricey joint; so this dark, smokey establishment was new. She'd never been here before and would not likely be back. The drinks were cheap, so there was that.

A laugh from her left, a chuckle more like, distracted her. It wasn't loud, or ugly, or noticeable in any way other than it was familiar. When it dawned on her why, her heart froze, her eyes went wide, and she felt the blood drain from her face. The tightening in her chest became unbearable and only grew worse when she looked over her shoulder and saw the source.

Blonde hair now styled messy, dark leather coat and jeans, but nothing could be done about those eyes. The way they crinkled when he laughed, how wide his smile was. Within the loud bar, he hadn't noticed her. But she definitely noticed him. The glass hit the floor, and that's what made the bar quiet a moment before picking up like nothing had happened. Her hair fell over her now red face. Tears welled in her eyes.

There was no way. She struggled to breathe, checked again, and ducked her hair over her face again. Briefly making contact with the man frightened her so much so that she now kept her eyes glued to the bar. The bartender had already begun to make her another drink. They might have asked her if she was OK, but all she could mumble out was that she felt sick. Careful to keep her face out of his line of sight, she ducked into the bathroom. Once under the dim, flickering, light she gulped down breath. Panic attacks weren’t uncommon, but had gotten better with time. She hunched over the sink and grounded herself by staring in the mirror. Brown eyes under heavy brows stared back at her. There was no way Mike could be alive and yet there was no way someone could look so much like him, so where did that leave her? She had to find out.

Splashing water in her face and gathering herself, she left the bathroom and headed to confront the man. By sheer luck, she caught him as he was leaving. He was on the phone, talking idly. Keeping her distance, she threw on her hood and followed him down the street. He turned a corner into an alley and she froze. Was she really about to follow a stranger down an alley?

Yes. Yes, she was.

He was gone by the time she entered and she cursed herself for her hesitantion. It was dumb anyway, she told herself. Just hope against what she knew was true. Turning on her heel, she slammed right into someone.

"Sorry." It was an automatic response before she again froze as she realized she had hit someone. Slowly, her eyes traveled upwards until they met his, and then there was no denying it.

"Mi-"

A hand covered her mouth, and he pushed her deeper into the alley and away from the light. The shock of the action made her scream, but the hand clamped over her mouth blocked all sound.

"Who the hell sent you?" He tone was harsh and his body tense. “Why are you following me?” Staring up at him with wide eyes, the questions sunk in and she stopped fighting under him. Mike cursed under his breath. He released her, slowly. "Oh my god, oh no." Mike pushed off her and headed towards the mouth of the alley before doubling back, eyeing her once again, and shaking his head.

“Mike?” She croaked.

Looking at him, everything was the same. The eyes, the mouth, the way his eyes looked at her. She opened her mouth to speak, and found herself at a loss for words. How many times had she dreamt up a scenario close to this? How many times did she wish she could see him again? Now he stood before her and she couldn't remember how any of those conversations went. She opened her mouth again, but he spoke.

Mike shook his head and closed his eyes, speaking more to himself than her. "I really messed up." When he looked at her again, his eyes were watery. "Don't..don't say it. I'm sure you have questions and I wish I could answer them. God," He squeezed his eyes shut again. He opened them and just looked at her, really looked, like he was trying to commit this image to memory.

"You're not-?" She felt light headed, but she shook it off. If she was going to faint or if this was all a dream, then she wanted to make the most of it. "But, we-we buried you." The statement came out like a squeak, and Mike tried to go to her, thought better of it, and kept his distance.

With his head hanging low, he muttered, "My CO is going to kill me, if my handler doesn't first." Mike looked at her once again. "I trust you understand you can't tell anyone."

All those nights of picking up a very drunk Dodds Senior and getting him home and of her crying herself to sleep flashed in her mind. Five years of pain seared hot like fire inside her, and she strode up to him, jabbing his chest. "We buried you.” She spat, getting in his face. Mike, startled, took a step back, but she was on him. “Your father has a heart condition, you jackass, did you think about him? Do you know how much you’ve hurt him? Hurt everyone?! What the hell is your problem!?"

"Shhhh." Mike looked over his shoulder, grabbed hers, and steered her towards the direction of the dumpster. "Trust me, I get it, you probably hate me and you have every right to, but I can't control this. I can't even talk about this! So, please, I need you to calm down."

He knew his mistake the moment he said it. Once the words sunk in and her eyes narrowed, Mike braced himself. "Calm down? You fucking ass! We. Thought. You. Were. Dead. You died! Do you understand how tramatic it is to see you?! What the hell have you been doing? Where the hell have you been? It’s been five years!" Mike took her hands when she tried to shove them at his chest, and struggled to control her as she fought under him. A blind rage, is what she would call it, and not all directed at him. At God, at the universe, for putting her in this position. Mike was alive, and hadn't reached out because he didn't want to. That stung. At least if he was dead it wouldn't have been his fault. She lowered her voice, not because he told her to but because most of her energy was being converted into angry trembling. "Sonny cried for months, it was so difficult for the squad to talk about you. And me? Ha, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, I couldn't function, and you’ve been alive!?" She hissed, recoiling from him. "What the hell, Mike. What the actual fuck is wrong with you?"

Mike allowed her her anger, and just wilted. When he spoke, his voice broke and his shoulders shagged. "My job, that's all I can say, and trust me, it's better that way. Safer. For all of you." The logic was lost to her in a numb trance, she fought through the shock and walked over to him.

"You've got some damn nerve. How dare you come back here. If you were going to leave all of us, you should’ve left New York."

"You followed me!" Mike hissed, now anger in his tone. “I’m trying to do my job and keep the city safe for threats you don’t even know are real, and you followed me!” All she could do was shake her head. "What?"

"Just," She took a breath,"I’ve been wishing for this moment for the last five years, dreaming about it, and now you're here, and I have no idea who you are."

"This hasn't been the easiest thing for me either." Mike hissed,"This is my job! This kept everyone safe."

Walk out, she told herself. You could just walk out and never see him again. Pretend none of this happened. Have Mike dead to her. She almost did it too. Squeezing past him, she headed towards the alley. Each step took her farther away from him and alliviated her anger.

This was so wrong. Who was this? God, she was angry.

Hatred rose for him.

Looking over her shoulder, she cast a dirty look at him. Mike was watching her go with a downtrodden expression. The fire inside her died down to an ember. It was Mike. He was alive.

She didn't remember running back to him, he didn't recall his arms opening, but they both remembered the way it felt to finally touch each other again. A jolt of electricity rushed through both of them. She buried her face in her chest, crying, and he rested his face on the top of her head. Sobs racked his body and they stayed like a few minutes before he straightened up, wiped his face with his sleeve, and composed himself.

"I am so sorry for all the pain I've caused you and everyone else. When I got this assignment I thought it would be different. This is my job." He weakly explained, and she nodded. “Do-do you hate me?”

Burying her face into her chest, embarassed at the truth she said, “Do you really think I could ever hate you?” This response made him hold her tighter. They would’ve given anything for this moment to last forever, but they knew it was passing. “I’m never going to see you again, am I?” Mike didn’t answer. How crazy life had become. They were supposed to be married by now, have a house, maybe a few kids. And now, he was dead. 

Mike couldn’t even promise her a maybe. He himself didn’t know how long it would take to infiltrate this terrorist organization, or if he would survive. She had a whole life to live, and it wasn’t fair for her to wait for him. This encounter wasn’t fair, but he would be lying if he hadn’t hoped for it.

“Goodbye.” She opened her mouth, couldn’t speak, and then laughed. That sound rang like a bell, awaking a different part of him. He remembered nights under the covers, coffee during breakfast, and runs in the park. What had he given up for the “greater good��? Mike asked, “What’s so funny?”

“Couldn’t say goodbye during your funeral either.” She responded, peering into his eyes.

Mike smiled.

.....

Sonny was easy to spot in the bar. Craning over the crowd, a worried expression plastered on his face, she headed over to him. Giving him a large smile, she tucked under his arm and lead him out the door.

“Where have you been?” Sonny pouted, but she had already dragged him out of the bar and into the street.

“Thought I saw someone I knew.” She simply said, “What are you drinking? My treat.”

[stormquill]

debt-free | chapter ten [Tony Stark/Reader]

You tasted like coffee and faded lip gloss; he tasted like vodka and day-old despair.

In which an unexpected late-night rendezvous at your University library ends up with you in way over your goddamn head.

Credits: Beta'd by @l0kt0n. Follow the blog / AO3 mirror @debt--free.

Somehow, you thought ‘safehouses’ were supposed to be inconspicuous.

Though nowhere near as grandiose as Stark’s home in Malibu, the place you’d taken temporary refuge could still house a family of twelve quite comfortably. The elegant outdoor landscaping and impeccable interior design made the building feel more like a four-star hotel than covert asylum, but you figured it made sense—if Stark had to go into hiding, he’d be doing it in style.

You and Hansen sat across from each other, a small table and two untouched coffees between you. You both looked little worse for wear, but you’d been lucky to escape the day’s events with nothing more than a handful of scrapes and bruises. Stark wasn’t looking much better himself, but unlike the two of you, he was on his feet and moving, pacing around the room with all the patience of an anxious cat; you could practically hear the gears grinding in his head, processing everything Hansen had confessed about Killian and their company on the car ride over.

It was strange to think that, less than a couple of hours ago, you were leaving the hospital with Stark, having successfully convinced him to take a break and let you handle the meeting with Hansen.

Five henchmen and one destroyed cafe later, you knew he must have been regretting that decision.

“So the Mandarin is using your Extremis for his attacks?” Stark asked.

“Yeah,” said Hansen. “Those bombings? That’s exactly what happens when you let it get unstable enough.”

“Incendiary devices leave remnants. A million-acre forest fire can be tracked down to a single lit cigarette—it’s forensics, it’s a science. That means there’s evidence at the theater explosion. Something I can use to connect the attacks back to AIM.”

“You won’t find any evidence. Just like they wouldn’t have found any at any of the other sites.”

“Yeah, why’s that?”

“Extremis isn’t just some incendiary device, like a bomb or a flare, it’s.” She folded her arms and shifted in her seat. “It’s a form of genetic manipulation. It needs a living host for the thermodynamic hypercharge to work. If the host can control it, Extremis can give them regenerative abilities, enhance their physical performance—but if the host can’t control it...”

Stark made a comical explosion noise.

She shut her eyes and winced away from him, as if the thought alone made her sick. “Point is, the Mandarin is weaponizing my tech to make super-soldiers and living bombs, tech Killian just handed to him on a silver platter. And I don’t know what I can do.”

Keeping silent, you’d watched the two of them go back and forth since Stark started his pseudo-interrogation. Still fueled by outrage over Hogan’s incident, Stark was looking for information, for inconsistencies, for anything he could use as an excuse to get out there and track down the perpetrators. Hansen, on the other hand, was wondering if seeking help was worth the trouble if all they were going to do was talk in circles.

The entire situation was way above your paygrade—but the gears in your head were turning, too.

“You said Extremis is a form of genetic manipulation,” you spoke up. “How is it administered, exactly? Radiotherapy?”

Hansen turned back to you, blinking the weariness from her eyes to try and refocus on your conversation. “Uh—no, intravenous. It’s an intravenous agent.”

“So it works like a virus? Enters the bloodstream, attacks the brain, creates a biochemical reaction.”

“More or less.”

“Then, hypothetically,” you straightened up, “you could develop a vaccine for it.”

The suggestion gave her pause. “I don’t know, maybe? I haven’t gotten anywhere with Extremis’s development in over a decade, I’m not sure how plausible it is to try reverse-coding a half-finished product.”

“I think I might be able to help.”

Your words had gotten both Stark and Hansen’s attention.

You cleared your throat, mulling the words over in your head to make sure you got them right. “If Extremis evokes a thermodynamic reaction that accelerates cellular function, reversing it means causing mass cellular deceleration, which...just so happens to be the unwanted byproduct of my current experimentation.”

The sudden light of inspiration in your eyes now sparked in hers. “You can’t maintain neurogenesis because of entropic decay.”

“And entropic decay is exactly what you need to reverse Extremis’s unstable effects,” you continued. “Obviously, the numbers will need major tweaking, and we’ll need to run some tests—”

“We’ll need samples,” Hansen agreed, shuffling forward in her chair. “There’s not enough time to recreate Extremis from scratch, not with the Mandarin’s recent threats.”

“Where would we get those?”

“Closest AIM headquarters would be in Houston, but...you don’t understand, Killian’s got eyes everywhere—if we hop on a plane, o—or a bus, he’ll see us coming from miles away.”

“Honey,” Stark interrupted, rather loudly, “can I speak to you in private for a moment?”

You were so wrapped up in your discussion with Hansen, you’d forgotten Stark was even there.

His request took you by surprise, but you followed his lead down the hallway. The way Hansen watched in confusion as the two of you disappeared around a corner did not escape your notice.

You entered the room, and shut the door behind you.

Segments of Mark 42 had been disassembled and spread across the floor for post-battle diagnostics. Toeing around the maze of parts, Stark reached the nearby couch, and lazily straddled the armrest. He stretched an arm out in front of him; one of the suit’s gloves flew across the room and attached itself to his hand like a magnet, red and silver metal spreading across his fingers and up his entire forearm.

“Haven’t seen that trick before,” you said, impressed.

“Neat, right? Had to bring the baby—he’s the only one who’d fit in your trunk.”

A mass of images projected themselves from his forearm panel, drowning the room’s ambient lighting with the bright blue glow of various interfaces. Stark gestured through the windows and touch screens, navigating the arrays of diagrams and news articles filling the room around him, his attention maneuvering quickly from one set of panels to the next.

“What are you thinking, doc?” he asked, without looking at you.

“About what?”

“About Maya.”

“I want to help her, if I can.” You made your way over and sat by his side, folding up your legs off the floor. “I mean, having the worst, most volatile parts of your research stolen by a bunch of power-hungry men and used in terrorist attacks? That...fucking sucks.”

“So you trust her?”

“You don’t?”

He clicked his tongue. “Just feels like there’s something she’s not telling us.”

Falling silent, you watched as he conducted his wordless research. Hansen hadn’t given you any reason not to trust her—but in Stark’s world, you realized that must have been tragically naive.

“What do you think we should do, then?” you asked. “Send her back to Killian?”

“No, but I don’t know if getting you involved in this is the greatest idea.”

“I’m already involved. I was involved the moment I went to meet her instead of you.”

“That was a mistake,” he snapped. “I should’ve never let do you that, I should’ve never—”

“You didn’t let me do anything,” you shot back. “We’re both adults—we made a decision, together, and like it or not, here we are.”

“I definitely don’t have to like it. And I definitely don’t have to sit quiet while you hand over your life’s work to someone you just met two hours ago.”

The words took you by surprise.

Stark was worried about you, of course he was, but he was also worried about the integrity of your research—and his concern made sense. At the heart of it all, he was a fellow scientist who’d been with you every step of the way—from your University research proposal, to your doctoral thesis, to the months upon months of sleepy, unproductive nights filled with failed experiments and paperwork to nowhere. He was just as invested in your work as you were.

And he didn’t want to see you compromised.

“I’m not like you, Mr. Stark,” you said. “I’m not a genius in any sense of the word. I don’t have a lot of things to offer.”

“That’s not—”

“You know what I mean,” you interrupted. Fishing for compliments wasn’t what you were aiming for, here. “My research...hasn’t gone anywhere. It hasn’t gone anywhere in a while, and I’ve been worrying a lot about whether or not I’m wasting my time. But Doctor Hansen—she’s been working on this one project for over ten years. That’s how much faith she has in it. In herself. Maybe I have something she needs. Maybe she knows something I don’t. You know my work almost as well as I do, Mr. Stark—if you think any part of my research can help her, I need you to let me try.”

Though he continued staring at the projected screens ahead of him, you could already read the answer in his expression.

Leaning up, you gently cradled a hand against his cheek, turning him to face you properly.

“You have to let me try,” you whispered.

“...you know, the last time I took your advice, you got a cafe blown up.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That cafe would’ve blown up with or without me there and you know it.”

“Crazy things happen once these suits get involved, sweetheart. It’s going to be dangerous.”

“I’m in a relationship with you, it comes with the territory.”

He smirked, softly.

And then his lips were on yours.

It felt like it had been ages since you’d last done this, but he kissed you, hard, and the contact set your nerves alight, just as it did every time.

He touched his forehead to yours, resigned, the worry weighing heavy in his eyes.

You rested another kiss against the side of his nose. “Stop thinking you have to do everything on your own. You’re not alone, remember?”

Realization dawned across his face like a new day.

Stark righted himself on the couch arm, clearing away the projections with an impatient swipe of his hand before replacing them a number pad and hitting speed-dial.

Before you could register what was happening, a video display appeared in the air as someone picked up the line.

The man on the other end glanced at Stark, then at you, and already looked exhausted.

“Evening, Colonel,” you said, sheepishly.

“Hi, Doctor. Tony. What’s up?”

Stark’s tone was clear and deliberate. “I have it on very good authority that your buddies over at Advanced Idea Mechanics have something to do with the Mandarin attacks.”

“Oh yeah, what authority?”

“An AIM executive told me so. She’s my hostage now, by the way—you sure you still don’t want me in on this?”

“Are you serious right—” With a loud, frustrated groan, Rhodes rubbed a hand over his face. “I told you, I am not in charge of this operation anymore.”

“But you’re second-in-charge, right? That’s almost as good.”

“Look, just because you can piss all over protocol, that doesn’t mean the rest of us can get away with it scott-free. There’s a chain of command—I cannot be discussing this with you on my own.”

“Well, not with that attitude.”

“I’m bringing him in.”

Stark’s face fell. “Wait, what?”

“You haven’t given me a choice, Tony.”

“Wait wait wait—nonononono—”

But the line was already dialing.

A second video screen appeared next to Rhodes. Bright blue eyes and short blonde hair came into view—a handsome face, boyish but strong, and trustworthy in a way you couldn’t quite explain. The man seemed out of breath as he answered the call; you could see a punching bag behind him, and a gleam of sweat on his brow.

You couldn’t have stopped yourself if you trIed. “Holy shit, it’s Captain America!”

Still catching his breath, Rogers gave you an impossibly charming smile. “Evening, ma’am.”

Meanwhile, Stark’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull. “Yeah—she’s easily impressed, don’t read too much into it—can we focus, here?”

“Captain Rogers,” Rhodes started, “Tony here’s captured an AIM executive who says the company’s dealing with the Mandarin.”

“What—you’ve taken an AIM rep hostage? Is this a civilian we’re talking about? Is that her?”

Rogers pointed at you with a boxing-wrapped hand. Your brain shorted out and you waved back, nervously.

Rhodes had a smile in his voice. “No, Captain, that’s Tony’s girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Smirking, Rogers offered you a nod. “My condolences, ma’am.”

“Watch it,” Stark warned.

“So you mean to say you brought two civilians into my investigation without my knowledge?”

“Sure did, mom. Hey—could you let me explain before you jump down my throat, maybe? The two of you might learn something.”

Rhodes looked as exasperated as always, but Rogers kept his patience, his composure clearly tempered by many past experiences with Stark.

“We’re listening.”

“The AIM exec is an old friend of mine who came to me for help, Dr. Maya Hansen. She says it’s their tech behind the bombings. There’s been three of them so far, right?”

“Only three have been made public. There’s actually been—”

“—nine attacks worldwide.” Stark brought up a holographic projection of a globe; certain areas around the world were marked with a bright red glow. “I found out the Mandarin attacks have a distinct heat signature—a very balmy 3000 degrees. Not many natural phenomena match the time frames and radii of impact from the Chinese Theater bombing. Why haven’t the other six been made public?”

“We’re trying not to cause a panic,” said Rhodes. “Especially since we don’t know how he’s doing it. We’re calling them bombings, but none of the fire investigations have turned up remnants of explosive devices.”

“It’s because he’s using people as bombs. Not suicide bombers—people injected with some kind of performance-enhancement virus, something that blows them up if it runs too hot. ”

“...you’re kidding.”

“Dr. Hansen told you this?”

Stark nodded. “Mandarin’s associated with the Ten Rings, same guys who threw me in a cave and wanted me to build things for them. Weapons of mass destruction are their bread and butter. Looks like they finally got their hands on something big.”

Rogers nodded again. “Any leads?”

“AIM has a global network with two headquarters in North America, Houston and Miami. Both good places to start digging.”

“And the third?”

“There’s a tenth heat signature that matches the profile, but predates all recent Mandarin attacks. It was marked as a suicide bombing, in some backwater town in Tennessee. I’m thinking it was ground zero. Might be worth checking out.”

“Understood. Colonel Rhodes will stay at his post with the President and continue trying to isolate the source of the Mandarin’s broadcast. I’ll investigate places of interest and get back to you with what I find.”

“Got it, Captain.”

“If you give me ten minutes, I can. Y’know.” Stark made little typing motions. “Sneak into AIM’s databases, save you guys some time.”

“You’ve done enough,” said Rogers. “Dr. Hansen is a person of interest in this investigation, and you’ve somehow managed to get your girlfriend involved. Your job right now is to keep the civilians safe until this is all over.”

“Yeaaaah, about that. There’s little thing I need to take care of in Houst—”

“Don’t let them out of your sight, Stark. Over and out.”

Both video feeds disconnected at once, throwing the bedroom back into its normal ambient lighting.

“You’re welcome!” Stark shouted at the now-empty room. He threw an arm up, hopeless. “Unbelievable.”

“At least you got help,” you offered, trying to cheer him up. “Now you don’t have to be in three places at once.”

“Nope. Just one. Ever been to Houston?”

“Um...” You weren’t sure where this was headed. “No, why?”

“Captain’s orders, remember? Can’t let either of you out of my sight.” He tilted his head to look at you. “Think that car of yours can make the trip?”

You returned his smile of malicious compliance tenfold.

“Hell yes, he can.”

[merlinhurricane]

“stop talking during the movie i am trying to watch dick bag” kiribaku

via amysantiaghost (content warning: this is bakugou so there is A LOT of cursing)

Everyone had been looking forward to the new All Might movie. All of his shitty classmates had been unable to talk about anything else for weeks. Deku was probably shitting his pants at the prospect, the fucking fanboy.

Tch. Irritated that the damn nerd had managed to infiltrate his thoughts, Katsuki slid down in his seat, knocking his feet against the desk in front of him. He grinned. None of those losers had what he had, though.

Tickets to the midnight showing. His mother’s company had rented an entire theater, so not only would Katsuki get to see the film before the rest of his class, he would get to see it in blessed silence. The old hag had assured him there would only be maybe a dozen people there, more family of the company’s employees. In his eyes, this privilege was nearly on par with getting the tickets from All Might himself.

Mood significantly improved, Katsuki kicked the chair away from Deku’s desk just as the other boy was sitting down. He didn’t even care what happened the rest of the day. Tonight was for him.

That night, Katsuki slouched into the theater at 11:32, knowing that any decent movie had a good twenty minutes of previews to watch beforehand. He was gratified to see there were only two other people in the theater, a couple sitting on the very back row, both of their faces lit by the blue glow of their phone screens. As long as they stayed quiet back there, they could fucking blow each other for all he cared. He growled a warning when they glanced at him and threw himself down into a seat in the exact center of the theater.

“Die,” he muttered as he ripped open a packet of Skittles. He’d timed it so he could open his snacks juuust as the previews started.

Sure enough, not a moment later, the lights went down as the screen lit up with the next high-impact sneak-peek. Perfect.

The second preview had just started when it all went to shit. A few people had come in and seated themselves during the “A Time to Die” sequel preview, but nobody had dared to sit near him and had stayed quiet. Now, however, three figures were venturing down the aisle in front of him, clearly aiming to sit in the seats currently acting as his footrest.

Katsuki glared at them to no avail as they halted in front of him, blocking his view of the screen and talking to each other loud enough to be heard over the CGI explosions. Completely fucking oblivious.

“Oy, fuckface! I can put a hole in you if you want me to look through you that badly!” He yelled, lighting a few small explosions in the fist not clenched around his drink.

“Shit!” He heard one of them whisper. It was too dark to see any of their features, but he could tell they were male, one absurdly tall and another with shitty spiked hair. They moved back along the row and sat without saying another word. Katsuki and grunted and took a loud slurp of his drink. Morons.

They nearly made it all the way through the previews before Katsuki was yet again reminded of their useless existence when the tall one stood and walked down the aisle in front of him again. Like before, he managed to stop right in front of Katsuki when his friends yelled at him.

“Dude, how are you gonna get popcorn without a wallet?” One of them leaned forward to yell.

“I have my ways,” the tall one said at a normal volume. The only reason Katsuki could hear him was because he was right in front of him.

He had just noticed something weird about the boy’s arms when he lifted said arm, something shot out and stretched across the theater.

“You missed, idiot!” The one who’d leaned out before held up a hand which seemed to have some of the stuff from the other guy’s arm stuck to it.

“Who says I didn’t mean to do that?” the tall one retorted, also yelling now. “And who are you calling an idiot?”

Before anyone could say anything else, a bright yellow bolt of zinging electricity shot along the stuff from the dude’s arm, illuminating the theatre for a moment. For a moment, Katsuki could see a long strip of tape strung across the seats, attached on one end to the rather plain-faced tall guy with weird elbows and on the other end to a rather crazed-looking blonde with a goddamn lightning bolt design in his hair. The blaze of electricity faded before he could see anything else, and he took the moment of shocked silence to scream at him, “Give him the damn wallet, you fucking short circuit, or he’s not the only one who’s getting fried!” This time his explosion had a healthy boom to it, lighting up the theater just as much as the lightning had a moment ago.

He watched in grim satisfaction as the wallet sailed through the air in front of him and smacked into the tall one’s face, jolting him from his electrocuted haze. “Movie’s about to start, soy sauce face. Get your damn popcorn before I kill you.” He smirked as the boy fumbled the wallet and sprinted out of the theater.

Surprisingly, the boy managed to make it back just as the opening credits began, this time having the sense to walk across the front and then climb to his seat rather than crossing Katsuki again. About fucking time.

A hush fell across the theater as a deep voice told the story of a man who knew no fear and felt no pain, a man who walked through life untouched by loss and sadness, who worked alone and needed no—

“Wait, isn’t the whole point that he teams up with Crimson Riot?” A voice cut through the intense narration.

Katsuki’s eyes darted from the screen, looking for the source of the interruption. It wasn’t the tape bitch or electro-wallet boy, but it had come from their direction. He ground his teeth together and redirected his attention to the screen.

“—but all of that changed when Toxic Chainsaw attacked,” the narration continued. The screen turned red with the blood of battle, a highly-charged rush of adrenaline and a warpath. All Might would win. He always did. It’s what made him the Number One Hero.

“No need to worry for I AM H...H-HERE.” The normally rambunctious catchphrase was being gasped out through bloody lips. Toxic Chainsaw had dealt a rough blow, and it looked like All Might was struggling to stand, much less fight. Katsuki’s chest was tight, eyes riveted to the screen with his fists clenched.

The screen dramatically switched to All Might’s perspective, blinking to black as the mighty hero began to fade into unconsciousness. “But it’s not...just...me…”

It should have been a heart-rending moment of tense drama, but it was absolutely shattered by a high-pitched girlish scream. “Guys, HERE HE COMES!”

This time, Katsuki knew exactly who it was. One look at the motley crew from before told him that much. The third one with the spiky hair was fucking bouncing in his seat, still emitting squeals of joy as the screen suddenly lit up with a burst of red.

“A real man knows when to call for back-up, Toxic Chainsaw” a tall man onscreen proclaimed.

“CRIMSON RIOT! YES YES YESSSSS!” The boy sitting in the middle of the trio was punching the air and yelling while All Might was still lying unconscious. No fucking respect.

“Oy, shitty hair, do the world a favor and shut the fuck up before I come and do it for you!” He didn’t even bother with the explosion this time because All Might was awake and speaking again.

It turned out All Might was acting as a distraction so that, like shitty hair had said before, he could team up with Crimson Riot against Toxic Chainsaw. Katsuki grinned. Good. Even if All Might made nice with some other heroes, he wasn’t going down. Heroes don’t fucking lose.

The battle ended, and the plot moved through some exposition of the next mission. It was a hero team-up movie, which were all the rage these days. Headed by All Might, of course, otherwise Katsuki wouldn’t have fucking bothered. Scenes showing where all the other heroes were and how they were important to the mission flashed on screen.

Apparently the Crimson Riot fanboy was bored with it because he kept up an increasingly loud stream of chatter as Katsuki was trying to follow what role Blood King was supposed to have during reconnaissance.

“Crimson fuckhead, shut your goddamn otaku trap and watch the fucking movie!” He flicked a mini-explosion toward the group so it reverberated right behind them. He’d been working on his range.

Instead of clamping his dumbass mouth shut like he should have, the idiot turned and quipped back, “We’re all seeing the movie for free, blasty! Lighten up!”

A lower voice—the electric freak—shoved shitty hair, asking, “Bro, was that a pun?”

“No, I just—we’re all in this together, right?”

The tape boy gasped. “It may not have been a pun, but that was a HSM reference, dork.”

Katsuki was still processing the sheer nerve of the guy. “I am going to set you on fucking fire!” He screamed, shooting up from his seat with explosive palms at the ready.

To his utter shock and dismay, shitty hair stood up and grabbed his hand. Katsuki sent everything he had into that hand and watched as explosion after explosion thundered against the other boy’s palm, but he didn’t cry out. What the hell-?

The lights were still too dim to make out specific features, but Katsuki heard a smile in his voice as he said, “Well, I’m not on fire. Are we done?”

Katsuki suddenly thrust his other hand into the boy’s face and let loose. That’ll show this smug fucker.

Yet again though, no damage, no screams of pain. The brief flicker of his explosion against the boy’s cheek showed him a broad, pointy-toothed smile. “If you wanted to touch my face, blasty, all you had to do was ask.” The boy brought his other hand up to Katsuki’s on his cheek and held it. “You may not have set me on fire, but I’m definitely hot and bothered.”

Katsuki jerked his hands away at the same time as a snort escaped from one of the boys beside them. “Dude, GAY.”

Shitty hair stayed standing but turned to his friend. “You’re one to talk, Denki.”

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing, bro.” Lightning hair turned to Katsuki. “But it was a little over-the-top, right, blasty?”

Katsuki took great pleasure in singeing the electrofucker’s hair before returning to his seat.

The fuckwad trio stayed relatively quiet for the remainder of the movie—All Might won, of course—but Katsuki could barely focus anyway. What kind of sick fuck flirted with someone who had literally just tried to blow his face up? Was it even flirting? Maybe he was jut a bigger dumbass than Katsuki had thought.

He refused to continue obsessing about it as he sat through the end credits, some ignorant idiots leaving the theater not knowing about the after-credits teaser scene. Sucks for them. It was just him and the three morons now. As soon as the scene ended—some bullshit about All Might’s long lost sensei and some sort of inheritance—and the lights came back up, Katsuki vaulted out of his seat, avoiding looking at anything not directly in front of him. He wasn’t trying to escape, of course not. He just had better things to do than run into the idiots again.

He’d made it all the way to the lobby when he heard “Yo, blasty, wait up!” Shit.

“Call me that again, you-“ he growled and turned around and came face to face with a fucking centerfold. The spiky-haired Crimson Riot otaku was a divine-looking fiery redhead with gorgeous ruby red eyes to match. He was offering a lopsided grin full of sharp teeth, and the arm he was waving to get Katsuki’s attention was tan and well-muscled. Shiiiiiit.

“Dude? Blasty?” The hands that had somehow withstood his blasts were waving in front of his face. Fuck, had his mouth been open the whole time?

Regaining his wits, he snapped, “Don’t call me that.”

A red eyebrow rose on the boy’s face, drawing Katsuki’s attention to a scar above his eye. His face had also endured explosions. “Don’t really know what else to call you, and blasty seemed appropriate, what with your quirk and all. So manly!” The redhead practically had hearts in his eyes.

Katsuki felt his face begin to heat and started yelling to distract from it. “Hah? Sure it’s a great quirk, it’s mine! It’s a hero’s quirk! So what the hell was that you did in there against it?”

The spiky-haired boy reddened a little, his eyes going wide. “You’re going to be a hero, too? That’s awesome! I have Hardening, so it was a bad match-up back there. No hard feelings, right?” He held out a hand in truce.

Hardening. Huh. Okay. Katsuki took his hand and ignited it for good measure.

Shitty hair just laughed. “Bro, you’re wild. I just get hard when you do that.” Then he winked.

Katsuki sputtered as a yell came from beyond the other boy. “Eijibro, where’d you go?”

He recognized that voice from the theater. “Oh good, someone flammable,” he muttered, making that rough laugh tumble out of the other boy again. Katsuki felt warm inside just hearing it. Not good.

Thankfully, the source of the voice finally rounded the corner. Lightning boy was even blonder and dumber than Katsuki had originally noted, and the tall tape boy, Katsuki now saw, had actual tape dispensers for elbows. What a fucking stupid quirk.

“Did you get your man?” Lightning face’s eyes flitted to him and back to shitty hair, whose entire face turned as red as his hair.

“Leave him alone, Denki. We’ll meet you outside, Ei.” He threw an arm around the blonde and the two walked away.

Maybe tape guy wasn’t completely useless after all.

“Aaaanyway,” the redhead in front of him continued, drawing Katsuki’s attention back to him as he rubbed a head on the back of his neck. “I just wanted to apologize for the yelling and the quirk thing and, uh, the other stuff. If I made you uncomfortable-“

“Don’t fucking apologize, idiot,” Katsuki blurted. “You’re fucking stupid strong if you were able to go up against me. And,” a few loose sparks popped in his hands as he asked the question that had been running through his mind since the other boy had grabbed his hands, “why the hell would you come on to me after all that?”

The other boy’s smile dropped, and Katsuki immediately fought against the urge to do something to bring it back. “Oh. Uh, sor- I mean, you were sitting at the movies all by yourself, and you were really funny and helpful in the beginning there, and you have such good control, and” he swallowed as his red eye met Katsuki’s, “you’re, uh, really pretty? Handsome! Super manly. And I’m just-“ here he put his hardened hands over his face and said through his fingers, “really really gay, oh my god, I’msosorry, I’ll leave you alone forever now, bye.” He turned and started speedwalking away, leaving Katsuki stunned.

What? He shook his head, going over the words again. WHAT?

“Hey, shitty hair!” he yelled after the sexy escaping idiot. The boy stopped in his tracks, shoulders hiked up and tense, and turned to face him. “What’s your name, fuckface?”

The boy’s brows furrowed in confused hope. “Eijirou? Kirishima Eijirou. Why?” He asked cautiously.

“Because I don’t date fucking strangers, genius.”

A brilliant smile lit up Kirishima’s face, and Katsuki could swear he was blinded momentarily. “Okay, well, neither do I...blasty.”

Katsuki growled. “If it’ll get you to stop calling me that dumbass name, then fine...Bakugou Katsuki. And don’t get any other weird nickname ideas, dumbass.”

Another dizzying smile, then Kirishima took his hand again, placing his phone in it before Katsuki could explode him again. “I’m gonna need your number if we’re gonna try this movie again.”

Katsuki was tempted to incinerate the phone on principle but restrained himself, texting himself from Kirishima’s number. “Why the hell would I want to see the same goddamn movie with you? It was bad enough the first fucking time and that was for free.”

Kirishima retrieved the phone and met his eyes again. “Well, you didn’t really see it with me the first time, but if it helps,” a slow, devilish grin starts to overtake his face, “next time, I promise not to talk.”

[cesium-sheep]

dad called, grandma got hospitalized last weekend for critical CO2 saturation and they drained a bunch of fluid off her lungs and she was immediately way better, so they installed a second drain for her lungs and she’s basically totally stable for now, although still like. hella old and infirm. (she has one in her abdomen for the fluid buildup from her CLL which is probably also where the fluid on her lungs came from). she’s switched to hospice (of her own accord) because she’s well made peace with death (and has a better understanding of what it’s like when you’re not being gpa abt it lol), although dad and patty are still taking turns keeping her company at night. (patty is taking a break because she’s pretty spent.)

he says I definitely don’t need to rush out right now since the second drain port bought her time, probably on the scale of months. I can just come down when it’s practical and safe, and say my goodbyes while I’m there, and that way I don’t need to rush out when it’s actually time. he says he’s okay and I believe him, it’s obviously a lot of extra work for him to do but it’s nowhere near so stressful as grandpa was. also the cat keeps thinking gma getting up in the middle of the night means it’s time for morning and yowling in the hallway which is getting on his nerves.

I also verified that heart problems run on his side of the family, especially grandpa’s. leg swelling, TIAs, strokes, and heart attacks. also he reminded me that his heart is underreactive, which tbh kinda sounds like a form of dysautonomia to me but idkfa so.

dad’s gotten vaccinated, and the internet at gma’s is very slow, and they fired a physical therapist at his organization because she refused to wear a mask. he asked if I could get the vaccine since I have ~health conditions~. and they’re gonna record a radio play in gma’s garage with the other theater folks, they’ve got little individual booths set up and everything. (when they were making plans they weren’t allowed to gather in public buildings at all or something like that, which is why they’re not using the theater. I’m sure they’re following all relevant protocols.) and he and patty hired caregivers so they could take a weekend off from taking care of gma and hang out with each other. patty is still applying to jobs and thinks she might get an offer for a specific one soon. I texted her just to say hi and check in, since I know she’s really attached to gma. (basically adopted her as her mom once her own mother passed away a few years ago.)

I also joked about helping mom since she refused to get therapy being why I constantly ask if everyone’s doing okay during hard times, and he asked if she ever did get therapy. when I told him yeah, after bill died, he said “that’s good”. I think he still tries really hard to avoid “talking shit” about her even though like. veeeeeery high probability he was being emotionally abused just like we were. maybe he’s still kind of hoping it was better for us than it was for him, even though it wasn’t his fault he did what he had to.

he also said to give arin his love at the end of the call :’)

[what-even-is-thiss]

Sanders Sides Meets Sanders Switch

Hey, so @lunarhowl​ made an awesome au and some people have been speculating what would happen if the sides from that au met the normal sides. Its also been stated that nobody knows how it would affect Thomas so I’ve decided to try and tackle both of those problems at the same time in a fic! Also I’m probably attacking the Thomas problem not in the way you’d expect and also kind of not following everything we assume from this au, but I wanted to figure out a scenario that would let these guys meet in a feasible way.

I hope you like it! It kinda ended up being longer than I intended. Its 2,650 words.

He had invented the sides himself. He was them. They were a tool to use. Even the other sides.

Yes, the other sides. He had one day found himself wondering what it would be like if the sides acted a little differently. After all, every energetic person gets tired. Every logical person has emotions. Every evil character has humanity, and every hero has a dark side. Maybe the different aspects of his personality had something of an anti-self.

He switched anxiety and the prince and got his love of villains and few evil tendencies in one and social anxiety and wish to please in the other. He switched logic and morality and got his over enthusiasm for learning and knowledge in Logan and the strong emotionless unaffected yet loving person he sometimes wished he could be in morality.

He didn’t talk to these sides as much, because they tended to represent parts of his personality that weren’t as prominent. He never told his viewers about them. For the most part they weren’t important, but they were fun to talk to, and could be useful.

One day he finished talking to switch anxiety about an unfortunate thing he said by accident to someone he liked. Switch anxiety had started crying and whimpered that it was probably his fault when switch Logan had popped up and given him his own version of the talk normal logic had given anxiety the other day, but instead of a debate it was a gentle talking to. It was more emotional, but still logical. Anxiety never calmed down completely, but Logan did get him to stop crying.

This got Thomas thinking. What would normal Logic and Anxiety think of these two? He decided to find out. It was his mind, after all. He could make them meet and then they didn’t have to remember it if he didn’t want them to. He decided to go about this in the same way he went about all these talks. He would pretend he was separate from the sides and watch like an observer even though he was the one writing the script.

Thomas closed his eyes and snapped his fingers, which helped him mentally picture his mind palace.

He was standing in the middle of the stage where Logic and anxiety had their debate. He pulled a set of large keys out of his pocket and walked stage left and far backstage where there was a fire exit. He unlocked this door and propped it open. Loud competing sounds of Disney music and hard rock blared from within accompanied by shouting. Then he walked to stage right and did the same with a door on that side. The sounds coming from this door were much quieter. Somewhere he could hear crying along with the sound of a blade being sharpened.

“Alright. This is happening. Play nice.” he said.

Thomas snapped his fingers and disappeared from the mind palace.

Anxiety turned his music up even louder. Logic was sitting on a couch with earplugs in, completely unaffected, reading a mystery novel. Morality was beginning to look the slightest bit irritated but he would never admit that. He kept being as cheerful as ever, sipping iced coffee and cleaning various surfaces.

Prince couldn’t stand it. He was also learning a two things today. One, Disney music and most Broadway music could not compete with the loudness of heavy metal no matter how loud you made it. Two, it was always possible to hate someone more, no matter how much you despised them in the first place.

Eventually Roman walked to the edge of the mind space, trying to ignore anxiety as much as he could. Then, he noticed something. Had that door been there before?

Switch anxiety put his hood over his head and pulled it down, trying to derive some comfort from the soft fabric. Logic was in one of his rare shouting matches with Roman.

“Its not physically possible, Roman! It’s not!”

“They wronged us. We will wrong them right down to Hades!” the prince shouted

Morality appeared behind anxiety and briefly put a comforting hand on his shoulder before walking forward to intervene.

“Logan is correct, and the course of action you have suggested is quite unethical.”

Anxiety knew prince was afraid of morality. He quietly prayed this would be one of the times prince ran off screaming instead of lashing out to hide his fear.

No such luck.

The yelling increased. Anxiety’s hatred of the loud noise grew and he found himself on the verge of tears. He quickly rolled off the couch and scrambled to his feet before running down the hallway. He had to calm down. For Thomas’ sake, he had to calm down. He wasn’t needed right now. He needed to stay away from the others where they wouldn’t find him. But where… did that door come from?

Roman knew this place, and yet he didn’t. He had been in many shows, seen the backstage of many theaters, but this wasn’t one he had been in. It was all familiar. The curtains, the unidentifiable props lining every surface, the chords attached to lights and speakers above and to the side, but not in an identifiable way. He stepped forward and found the curtain. He saw a figure on the other side.

Switch anxiety knew places like this. Where his knees got shaky and his heart-rate increased. Nerves from countless opening nights and auditions flooded back, but so did the excitement and energy of powering through, and the rush of applause at the end. It was very nerve wracking. He saw Roman at the other end and jumped with an ‘EEEP!”

The side on the other end of the auditorium jumped and made a noise.

“Anxiety?” called Roman “What is this? What happened to your hoodie?”

Anxiety visibly started shaking “R-roman. I-I’m sorry. Wh-what do you mean? Have you and L-Logan finished fighting?”

The prince walked forward with a confidence that scared the guy in the white hoodie to no end. “What happened to your eye-shadow? Uh, not that I care, but are you alright?”

Anxiety was shaking violently now and tears were starting to well up in his eyes. Roman remembered what calmed them all down when they were hysterical and gently placed his hand on the other one’s head. Anxiety was surprised to find that he stopped shaking as much. He calmed down enough to realize that the other trait was wearing white as well. It looked like a costume Thomas had saved from a play, actually.

Forgetting his hatred for anxiety, prince knew that if one of them was hysterical the rest would be affected, and Thomas did love himself for the most part, so Roman gently placed his hand around switch Anxiety’s wrist and patiently led him stage left.

“I will not hurt you this time, anxiety. Don’t worry. Let us get dad and Logan. They are better equipped to handle this.”

Switch anxiety was too shocked to protest.This Roman obviously felt contempt for him just as much as he normally did, but was somehow able to put that aside to help him. What was happening? Wasn’t the exit stage right?

To Roman’s surprise, the heavy metal was still blasting strong. It irritated him when he heard it, and he started pulling anxiety along in a much less friendly manner.

“You did not turn off your trash!?” prince yelled.

As they walked past the commons area, prince vaguely noted that morality was now wearing earplugs too.

Switch anxiety was surprised that the loud music was coming from his own room. When they got there, Roman stormed in quickly and immediately stopped in shock. Anxiety looked up and paused, then took a double take. He picked up a remote off the bed and pointed it at the speakers, turning them off.

“Princey, what is that?”

Prince turned slowly and looked at switch anxiety. “I thought it was you.”

Switched anxiety was stuck in an expression of fear. He stammered.

“Uh, you… Me… I… Um, huh?” the poor guy stammered before busting out into tears

“Well whoever he is, he’s obviously distressed,” anxiety noted. “I can relate,”

“We are not the ones to understand this. To the commons!” Princey said

“You do that. I’m going back to bed.”

Anxiety pulled the covers over his head. Prince responded by ripping the covers off and physically lifting the emo personality trait with one arm and shouldering him. Anxiety groaned. “This is stupid” but didn’t fight and prince took switch anxiety’s hand in his free one and gently led the crying man down the hall.

Morality had been the first one to notice that the music had stopped.

“Hey Logan?” He said as logic pulled his earplugs out and went back to his novel, “Do you think we should be worried? There are raised voices back there.”

“Objectively, we’re doing fine. Just let it run its course.” Logan said, not looking up. “Thomas is spacing out right now. They can do whatever foolishness they like.”

Morality went back to cheerfully searching through the cupboards wondering where the cookies he baked last night ran off to.

Suddenly, prince stormed into the room, anxiety over his shoulder and someone that looked exactly like the rest of them, with anxiety’s posture and Roman’s color scheme being dragged along.

Morality looked back and slowly closed the cupboard he was looking through. Logic heard it close and looked back at morality who pointed. Logic adjusted his glasses and looked at the strange sight.

“And, who might this be?” Morality asked cheerfully after remembering his manners.

“That’s what we were wondering.” said anxiety “Now would you put me down, you overpriced Disney reject?”

Prince unceremoniously dumped anxiety onto the floor. Switch anxiety jumped and whimpered slightly.

“Thanks,” anxiety said, muffled by the floor he was now lying face down on

“Anxiety, we’ve talked about this.” said dad “Make sure your mouth is clear before talking. Unless you want to be our new vacuum cleaner.”

Anxiety stood up. “He just dumped me on the floor, and that’s what you decide to bring up?”

Switch looked even more distressed. He could feel his imagined heart beating at a million miles a second. “Di-Did you call him anxiety? But that’s… That’s…”

Morality ran over and engulfed the scared trait in a hug.

Logic adjusted his glasses and stood up. “It seems clear to me that this individual is also a Sanders side. If you don’t mind, would you please introduce yourself so we may know what do do with you?”

“L-Logan, why are you acting like this? I’m anxiety! You were just fighting with R-Roman and now you’re not and, and, oh.”

Anxiety sighed. “You’re me? Really?”

Logic approached the rest of the group. “Well, I’ve had my suspicions about this kind of thing for quite some time. There is more to anxiety than what you yourself personify. Perhaps Thomas has created an alternate anxiety. We are figments of his imagination, after all. He can keep us separate from each other.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” said Roman, “I did find him in a theater back there.”

“Now Roman, there is no theater here, remember?” dad said

“Actually there is.” Said Logic.

“The nerd debated me in it.” anxiety added “I totally won,”

“Falsehood. We have been over this and your argument was incredibly flawed. Anyhow, I think I know where to find the others.”

Logic raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.

Switch morality stood over a cowering Roman. “Do you see now what you did wrong?”

“Uh, ye-yeah,” Roman stuttered.

“Good.” morality said. “Now, where is Logan? He was not polite when making his points.”

As if in answer, Logic stumbled into the room and quickly adjusted his tie and glasses as he said “Anxiety is missing and there is an unidentified door in the mind space. I believe perhaps he is off doing something, but objectively Thomas is fine, so I don’t know what he could be doing, therefore, I am concerned.”

“Was that all one breath?” Roman asked

“Thank you for making that observation Roman. You are very observant. Good job. However I must also point out that your point is irrelevant to the situation and I am still concerned about anxiety’s well being.”

“That was one breath as well,” noted morality

“Ugh. Let the idiot stay lost.” said Roman. “Thomas worries too much anyways. And do you remember the other day where he prevented me from remembering the song at the audition? That bruised me really bad. Let him stay lost,”

Morality gave Roman a death glare.

“Or, or we could go find the idiot. That works too.”

The normal sides and switch anxiety appeared in the theater. They heard arguing coming from the other side.

“Who is there?” prince called boldly across the stage

“Who invades this space? You shall burn in Hades!” called back a voice in the exact same tone and volume

Then they heard an “EEEP” and a bit of shuffling.

From behind the side curtain emerged Logan in a blue polo shirt and red tie.

“Uh, we don’t know for certain who you are but I have my suspicions. Hi!” he waved happily.

Behind him emerged morality dragging Roman in by his ear. All the color palates seemed to be switched.

“Let go of me! You are not my father! Augh!”

Switch morality let go of the dark prince and he stumbled a few steps away.

“Anxiety!” switch Logan cried.

The enthusiastic teacher ran and gave the scared trait a hug.

Logan stared blankly at his hyperactive counterpart before turning to anxiety.

“I now understand your disbelief.”

The darker prince sauntered over to the normal anxiety. And unsheathed his sword.

“So you are also the cause of our conundrum! I shall…”

Anxiety slapped him.

“You’re just as annoying as the other one. I’ll bet you stomp around singing villain songs instead.”

“So what if I do?” switch Roman said

“Is this where all the dark ideas are coming from?” prince asked

Switch Roman smiled. “And the nightmares. Don’t forget the nightmares.“

Switch Morality pulled his Roman back. Normal morality smiled and held his arms out wide. “Well isn’t this nice? We all get to talk things out.”

Switch morality looked his counterpart dead in the eyes. “You are the source of the dad jokes.”

“I sure am! Are there eight people here or is it just me?”

“You already used that one.” said Roman “The first time we were introduced,”

“No, this is when we’re all being introduced!”

“Dad jokes aren’t funny,” switch morality said.

Normal morality gasped with a slightly horrified expression. Both the princes looked like they wanted to say something when a voice sounded from the back of the stage.

“Okay, everybody this has been fun but I think this is getting a bit out of hand.”

They all turned around. There was Thomas, grinning like an idiot and fiddling with his big ring of keys.

“Th-Thomas!” Switch anxiety exclaimed “A-are you doing alright? I don’t think I did anything.”

Anxiety looked bored. “I know I didn’t do anything. Yet.” He smiled an evil smile.

“Oh, I just wanted you all to meet. You know, as characters. But I think it’d be better if we go back to the way it was.”

Thomas snapped his fingers and all the traits disappeared from the stage. He walked to stage left where there was a door propped open. Disney music was blaring from inside. He locked it. He then went stage right where a similar door was propped open. Mixed shouts of excitement and hatred came from within. He locked that door too. He walked back to the middle of the stage and looked back over the empty audience.

He snapped his fingers. The lights went out over the audience and then over the stage. The reverie ended.

[auroraphilealis]

The Summer (26/33)

The Summer (26/33) | Dan Howell has spent the last three summers at Camp Bergamot, but it’s never been quite like this before. This year, he faces a summer full of new friends, a new relationship, and an entirely new view on his own sexuality. Perhaps Camp Bergamot should be renamed camp self discovery for all the changes Dan has gone through, but one thing’s for sure - despite all the hiccups and the drama, he just might have found the love of his life. | Phan | Mature | Smut, Misunderstandings, Insecurity, Panic Attacks, Bullying, Minor Violence, Physical Fight | 400,000+ Words

Disclaimer: In no way do I claim that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil.

This Part: 11,598 Words

For reference, @phansdick is Dan, @insanityplaysfics is Phil.

(Previous) (AO3) (Masterlist)

Warnings: sex jokes, competition, physical injury, misunderstandings, hurt, insecurity, sick (vomit)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Phil woke up the next morning feeling absolutely terrified, because that night was the talent show, and he might have had a mini freak out for a few moments before getting up that no one but himself needed to know about. He emerged late for breakfast as usual after a quick shower, and didn't eat very much, his nerves were so bad, but he did drink much water which resulted in him having to rush off to pee in the middle of a story by Clarice. He felt really bad, especially considering he already hadn’t spent very much time in her actual company, but he also kind of wanted to throw up, so he didn't say anything to anyone as he left, rushing off like a dog with it’s tail between it’s legs. Luckily enough for him, he didn’t end up throwing up, but he did end up washing his face and staring at the pale, tired features that stared back at him, murmuring quiet reassurances to himself that he was going to be okay. And he would be, he knew he would be, it was just - well, stage fright, kind of. Mostly, he hated the idea of being made fun of once again.

Dan felt amazing when he woke up that day, as he usually did nowadays. However, that quickly faded to worry when Phil showed up late to breakfast. The entire morning, Dan could tell that Phil had something on his mind. He wondered if he did something to make Phil upset, but knew that wasn't the case because he didn't actually do anything. When Phil rushed off to the loo, Dan worriedly nibbled on his lip, contemplating running after him. "He okay?" Clarice asked, cutting off her own story to make sure Dan's boyfriend was doing alright. Dam ran a hand through his hair, shrugging. "I don't know what's going on. I'm going to check on him." He stood up, chair creaking across the floor, drawing many pairs of eyes towards him. He could feel Valerie's eyes on him, but he ignored her, instead focusing on making sure his boyfriend was alright. He arrived at the restroom and hesitated. What would he even do? Knock, obviously, so he did. "Phil?" He called. "Can I come in?" The bathroom was stall based, but Dan still felt uncomfortable just letting himself in when he already knew that Phil wasn’t feeling so well.

Phil jumped when he heard the sound of someone knocking on the bathroom door, and was about to rush out of the bathroom to avoid any strange questions when he heard Dan's voice calling to him. He relaxed by a little, and moved to open the door, realizing belatedly that it wasn’t locked and Dan could have easily of just walked in, but didn't speak as he moved back to the sink and tried to breathe normally again. He heard Dan come in, but he was too embarrassed to face him, and ended up shoving his face in his hands out of embarrassment. "Sorry," he muttered as he heard the door shut again. "I'm just nervous about tonight. I- I'm not used to doing things like singing in front of lots of people."

As soon as Phil pushed the door open for Dan, he quickly stepped inside. He was greeted by the sight of Phil leaning over the sink, his skin a pasty white, and his expression completely terrified. At first, Dan thought he was going to puke. But then he was speaking, explaining himself with a hand ruffling through his hair, and Dan couldn't help but feel guilty. It was ultimately he who had caused Phil to be so panicked in the first place. He was the one who wanted to do a duet, not Phil. Phil was just doing it to make Dan happy, not because he actually wanted to do it. Dan frowned and slowly walked over to his boyfriend. He rubbed a hand over Phil's low back, feeling his sweaty skin through his shirt and pressing a kiss to his hair. "Hey, it's not all that bad," Dan murmured. "I know it's a really scary thing to do, but nobody is judging you. It's all just for fun. Besides, I'll be right by your side at all times. If you think you'll look like an idiot, then I'll be right there with you."

Dan's touch on his back was a comfort, and Phil leaned into it, managing a smile when Dan leaned in to kiss his head for good measure. He couldn't help the embarrassed little chuckle, and let out the breath he'd been holding. "Yeah," he agreed simply, not because he actually thought Dan would look silly, but because he didn't know what else to say and he didn't want Dan to think Phil wasn't trying to take his advice seriously. "It's all just new to me, that's all. I'm used to making an idiot out of myself - just not usually for fun," he added, finally turning and facing Dan properly with a slightly terrified smile. "But I guess if I have you there, it can't all be bad."

Dan beamed at his boyfriend, his stomach flipping when Phil mentioned that it couldn't be too bad if he had Dan there with him. It wasn't like Dan didn't understand the terror of going on stage - it was just that he was used to it. He did drama at school so he was used to having all eyes on him, used to having the attention. But Phil was not. Phil was used to staying in the shadows, of blending into the crowd as best as he could. Dan made a promise to himself that he would make this the best thing in the entire world, and that Phil would have fun. He wouldn't forgive himself if Phil went off stage feeling worse than starting off. "We'll only be on stage for a short amount of time, so I'll make sure that you have a lot of fun." Dan giggled and leaned forward to kiss Phil's cheek. "I'll even give you a kiss afterwards!" Dan would probably already have kissed him anyways, but he just wanted to see Phil smile properly so he was trying his damned hardest to do just that. "We'll be great, we make a great duo."

One of Phil's favorite things had always been when Dan kissed him on the cheek, and he flushed a dark red even now. He wasn't embarrassed so much as... warm, his heart doing strange things in his chest at the feeling of such open and honest affection, all for him. He found himself smiling before he knew it, and then he was laughing and rolling his eyes playfully at Dan, but secretly, deep down, he couldn't wait for a kiss as a reward after their performance, preferably where everyone could see it, maybe right at the end of the song... Phil wondered if he could convince Dan of it, and found his smile growing even larger, until he was reaching out to proper hug Dan and pressing his lips to Dan's while he was at it. Dan made a surprised noise, but then he was sinking happily into it, and Phil found that this was all he'd really needed to calm down. “Okay,” he eventually ended up agreeing, kissing Dan once more for good measure. “But I’m holding you to that promise of a kiss after.” After that, they returned to their friends, holding hands once again with matching smiles on their faces, and Phil didn't miss the way that Valerie's eyes followed them, looking disappointed like she'd been convinced they were in the midst of a breakup she could take advantage of. Phil was tempted to stick his tongue out at her, but he didn't. Just the thought of her still made his blood boil, and he didn't want to think about her any longer than he absolutely had too. He had Dan, and that was all that mattered.

Much to Dan's relief, Phil seemed to calm down after they kissed. Dan stored that in his mind for future reference and made an effort to be extra clingy that day. The talent show was happening later that night in place of the usual camp fires, allowing the campers to have an entire day to prepare and get some extra practice in. So even during activities, Dan made sure to be extra affectionate to Phil. It made Phil relax some, relax into him and to stop thinking about the show later that night. Dan was so grateful that he had the opportunity to calm Phil down, and he made sure to place extra little kisses on his lips and cheeks whenever he saw the chance. They still practiced a little during workshops, using the little theatre room, but Dan made sure to make it as fun as possible. As they sang, Dan took Phil in his arms and began to sway them back and forth. When he got a bit more into the song, he was then twirling Phil around, the room filling with their giggles. They knew how ridiculous they looked, but they found that they didn't care because they were having fun. Phil's smile was wide, and that was all that mattered to Dan. He would do anything just to make Phil keep smiling.

Practicing with Dan was... suddenly less terrifying and a lot more fun that afternoon, and Phil found himself giggling in the theater room as Dan insisted on distracting him from all of his lines to dance around the room with him. Phil couldn't bring himself to mind, when Dan kept catching him and twirling him in his arms, making a fool out of both of them all for the sake of a good laugh. Phil found himself relaxing before he knew it, really getting into it then, and dancing with Dan back, spinning him because he could and giggling into his mouth when he stopped in the middle of the song to kiss him full on the lips. Dan kissed him back, even as he complained afterwards, and was just as much to blame for having such a tempting mouth, but it made Phil happy, and it helped him to calm down, until finally, he felt so comfortable in the whole situation that he was singing it all on his own - under his breath, of course, but his ears weren't completely red and he wasn't entirely terrified anymore, and Dan was hanging off of his arm, so what did Phil really have to be afraid of? Nothing, it turned out, because when the talent show began that night, right outside in front of the largest camp fire, Phil found that most people were taking the mickey out of themselves just as much as they were the rest of them, and suddenly, the whole thing seemed a whole lot easier. Just before they moved to take their turn up on the stage, Phil turned to Dan and whispered in his ear, "I want you to dip me, at the end, and kiss me, right there in front of everyone," he insisted, and then their names were being called and Dan didn't have a chance to deny or confirm or argue or anything like that. The nerves were back, but they were partly excitement, and Phil's heart felt like it was going to burst right out of his chest, but how could he complain when he had Dan right here, right now - the music started, Phil's voice cracked, and then they were on.

Phil's words made Dan's eyes widen in surprise. He wanted Dan to kiss him? In front of everybody? Not that Dan was complaining because he would love that, but he would have thought it would make Phil even more nervous or something. But Before Dan could speak, all eyes were on them and the music was starting. It was Dan who had to start first because he was Gabriella, and he played it up as a nervous girl who had no idea what she was doing on stage. When Phil began to sing, his voice cracked, but Dan then saw him turn his attention away from the audience to look at Dan instead, probably as a way to cope. So Dan grinned and began singing again. By the time the chorus came, the entire audience was forgotten. They were absolutely jamming, hearing the screams of the audience and the nostalgia hitting Dan right in the feels. He was grinning, laughing, as he and Phil spun around the stage, much like they had earlier that day, and his chest swelled with pride as Phil seemed to be getting over his stage fright as well. The last notes were fast approaching and Dan didn't want to disappoint. As soon as they sang the last words, he grabbed Phil, dipped him (earning a few cat-calls), and kissed him. Right on stage. Right in front of everybody. Dan couldn't stop grinning.

Phil didn't know for sure if Dan was going to kiss him, but the whole idea of it was kind of gone in the moment, because within the first few lines, Phil was turning his attention to Dan, and there was just something calming about his boyfriend's face that helped to relax Phil quite a bit. Somehow, they ended up getting the loudest cheers from the other campers as Dan took Phil in his arms and spun him across the stage, something un-Gabrielle like but still cute nonetheless. Phil did it back, a little more clumsily, but laughing through the words of the song, and having the most fun of his entire life. He'd never been one for the stage, too afraid of making a fool out of himself, but in this moment right then, he was living for it. As the song came to an end, the two leaned in to smile at each other and look in each other's eyes, and that was the exact moment that Dan reached over, dipped Phil, and kissed him full on the lips, Phil full on melted, going soft in Dan's arms and feeling his heartbeat go erratic in his chest, and while he knew it was something he'd requested, knew it was partially for show, Phil felt so loved in that moment that he couldn't stop himself from reaching up to cup Dan's cheek and kiss him back just as sweetly.

Dan didn't want to pull away from Phil. The kiss only lasted seconds, but Dan wanted it to last for hours. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he was giddy with emotion, happy that he could finally perform a duet like that with someone that he truly loved. But even though Dan didn't want to pull away, he knew he had to because the kiss was getting to the point where it was holding on for too long, making it a bit more awkward and a lot less sweet (in the audience's eyes at least). So he pulled away with one last peck on the lips, grinning wildly at Phil as they turned to bow. The audience went crazy, and Dan had to wonder if it was because they actually did well, or if it was because they crushed the heteronormativity of the song with their own gay asses. For some reason, Dan couldn't help but like to think it was the latter.

The kiss was over far too fast for Phil's liking, but he understood the need for it as Dan pulled away and helped to pull Phil back up until he was standing. Feeling a little woozy from the head rush, but grinning none the less, Phil bowed with Dan to their audience, and couldn't help his breathless laughter in happy wonderment that people were actually clapping for them. Phil turned to Dan with the brightest smile of his life, and the second they managed to get away from the front of the bonfire, as soon as their act had been replaced by another and the attention dragged away from them, Phil yanked Dan into the best hug of his life, squeezing the life out of him as he laughed. "That was amazing!" he managed, voice high and squeaky in his excitement. "I can't believe we did that. Dan, you're amazing!" he said, still laughing as he jumped a little with Dan in his arms and dug his happy face into Dan's neck, laughing there and feeling Dan laugh against him in response.

Phil was so happy, and his laughter was honestly contagious. He was clinging on to Dan for dear life, laughing nearly hysterically with his face buried in Dan's neck. Dan was happy. He was ecstatic. He couldn't believe that Phil had such a wonderful time to where he was jumping up and down with excitement, and it was the most precious thing in the entire world. "They loved us," Dan agreed, giggling and doing a little dance with Phil in his arms. "You did so well, I knew we were going to be the perfect pair." He ignored how their friends were sidling up to them, walking towards them, and instead took both of Phil's cheeks in his hands. His eyes were soft as he looked at his boyfriend, watching how Phil's cheeks were flushed from happiness, his blue eyes shining. Dan leaned forward and pressed their lips together slowly, his heart stuttering in his chest. If it was even possible, he thought that he fell even harder for Phil then. They truly were an amazing pair, and Dan couldn't believe how lucky he was.

Phil was always going to love it when Dan kissed him, and today was no exception. He hummed in surprise and contentment when Dan pressed their lips together, and all other thoughts of their success or friends flew from his mind in preference of thinking of Dan and how perfect his mouth fit against Phil's. It didn't take long before he was threading his fingers into Dan's hair to deepen the kiss, but that was also when their friends caught up to them and started complaining. "We had enough of that on stage you attention seeking love birds," Mariaha complained playfully, causing Phil to release Dan with another happy giggle. He pressed his forehead to Dan's for added grossness and said "You're just jealous."

Dan didn't want to pull away from Phil, just like he never wanted to, but he didn't complain when they had to anyways. He didn't want to make their friends uncomfortable and he knew that he would be able to kiss Phil all he wanted later. Hell, he'd be able to kiss Phil forever if he had the chance. "Jealous my ass," Mariah muttered, and Dan giggled because she was totally jealous. Out of their entire friend group, Mariah was now the only one who was single. He couldn't help but feel sad about that. So he separated from Phil, instead opting to entwine their fingers and practically lean into his side. "I say we party for a job well done tonight," Dan suggested, grinning. "It's the last few days before camp is over. Let's fucking wreck this place."

Phil rolled his eyes, because his boyfriend was as dramatic as always, but couldn't bring himself to disagree with the sentiment. His fingers tightened around Dan's at the reminder of how little time they had left, however, and he felt his stomach swoop once again as he realized that things were... getting closer to an ending. Phil didn't know how to be with Dan outside of camp, as silly as that sounded, and he was scared everything was going to change in a not so pleasant way. For now, though, he was just going to cling onto Dan and all the firsts they'd treasured together, the way Dan made him feel, and how he brought things out of Phil Phil hadn't even realized he had in him. Their friends dragged them off for some well deserved fun, and before Phil knew it, they were swimming in the lake in nothing other than their undergarments. Phil was shaking in the cold of the water, but it was fun as they took turn after turn after turn shoving each other off the bridge, jumping in and teasing each other, having so much fun that Phil didn't have another chance to worry. More than once, Phil felt Dan brush against him, and more than once, Phil brushed against him back, but for the most part, they focused on their friends because they were sure the others would give them the last night to themselves - and Phil had a few ideas in his head about skinny dipping.

Swimming in the lake late at night with his friends was something that Dan would never get tired of. They were all laughing, the moon illuminating the surface of the water, small ripples interrupting the smooth expansion before them. It didn't even matter that they were all in their underwear- The girls were unashamed of their bodies and their bras were technically like a bathing suit anyways. Besides, Dan was gay as fuck for Phil and Caleb's girlfriend was with them so there was no need to worry about the boys coming onto them. Dan liked the way Phil's body felt against his in the water, and he had to hold himself back from just dragging him away, but he was sure they'd have more time to themselves sometime soon so he wasn't worried about it in the slightest. The entire group was just having a good time, spending their last few nights together and trying to make the most of every moment together. Not for the first time, Dan was thankful that he had met this group of wonderful people, and as the night came to an end, shivering with curled hair, Dan couldn't stop smiling.

It was on the way back to the cabins that Phil finally brought something up to Kim, later that night, that had been bothering him for a few days. He’d seen how close she and Mariah were getting after all, had seen the way they’d teased each other in the water tonight, and it was worrying Phil, who hadn’t spent very much time recently properly catching up with his best friend. So, once they’d all said goodbye to each other and taken off in different directions for their cabins, Phil reached over and took Kim’s hand in his. “Hey, so uhm. What’s like, going on with you and Mariah?” he asked, ever terrible with managing to act casual in anyway. Kim’s turned to look at him, her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” she asked. Phil found himself blushing and ducking his head, wondering if he was making a big deal out of nothing, but pushed on anyways. “It’s just - you seemed like you’d been getting really… close, recently, and I was just wondering -” Kim cut Phil off before he could continue, a grin stretching the corners of her lips, “If anything was going on between the two of us?” she finished for him. Blushing even harder, Phil nodded his head, and was relieved when Kim merely started to laugh at him. “Ah, Philip. There’s nothing going on between us! We’re just really good friends, and since everyone else in the group has gone and paired themselves off, we’ve really only had ourselves to bond with. She’s just a good friend. I have a girlfriend, you know,” she explained, nudging Phil gently, to which Phil laughed. “I know, I know, and it’s just, in the beginning of camp you missed her so much that I just wondered if - not that I think you would cheat, but sometimes…” Phil hated himself for even suggesting it, but to his relief, Kim merely snorted at him and shoved him for good measure once again. “Shut up, you goof. Yeah, I miss her, but that’s just it. I miss her, not the like, affection or whatever. Stop worrying so much. It’s possible to love different people in different ways, you know,” she reassured Phil, and then knocked into him once more. “Just like I love you, but the last thing I ever want to do is have sex with you. Ewwww,” she whined, and then they were both laughing, the part of Phil that had been scared suddenly reassuringly soothed.

**

Phil took a shower that night, exhausted as he was, to warm up from the cold lake water he'd spent far too much time swimming in for how late it had been. His thoughts were all focused on Dan, though, especially know that his concerns about Mariah and Kim had been laid to rest, and he couldn't stop thinking about the way Dan’s skin had shimmered under the moonlight, the way he'd smiled and laughed, and how it had felt to have him touching Phil even that little bit that night. He couldn't help this feeling of moroseness suddenly growing in the pit of his stomach at the thought that they'd be leaving here in just two more days. Just two more days of being with Dan. Two more days… As Phil pushed his fingers through his hair to wash it, he couldn't help thinking of all the missed opportunities he'd had with Dan that they could have shared before they'd be forced to go home. Maybe it was silly, but Phil was terrified that things were going to change once they left here, and he just wanted to cling to Dan as tightly as he possibly could. His mind was a bit of a sad mess when he went to bed that night, but the warmth of the shower at least kept him from shivering his way to sleep, and he dreamt of Dan not for the first time.

**

Dan wasn't prepared to wake up that morning. He made a huge fuss about it, even as Mariah was the one trying to get him out of bed. "Dan, come on! You're going to be late for breakfast!" Mariah snarled, tugging on his arm and trying to get him out from his blanket cocoon. Dan groaned unhappily and burrowed himself in further. "But I don't wanna," Dan grumbled. He was just so comfortable, and he absolutely did not want to move. Why would he leave his warm cavern into the coolness of the cabin? He would be crazy if he did so. Mariah jostled him a bit more, sighing in annoyance. "I swear to god if you don't wake up I will have to get Phil in here to force your pale ass out." Dan snorted but didn't move. "Now you're just making me want to stay in bed." He could practically feel Mariah's glare on him as she scoffed. "Fine, I warned you!" She told him, and Dan sighed in relief as he buried himself back in his covers, trying to cling onto the last bits of sleep.

It seemed to be an unusual morning, as Phil had only just finished getting dressed when Mariah of all people stormed into the boys room of his cabin, and marched right on over to Phil before gripping tight to the sleeve of his shirt and dragging him from the room. Phil didn't even have a second to ask her what was going on he was so busy trying not to trip and fall as he followed after her. "Dan won't get his lazy ass out of bed, so you have to do it. No silly business, Phil Lester, today is a friend day! You can have Dan all to yourself tomorrow for all I care, but this is the last weekend of camp, and I won't have it if you're both late to breakfast, Mister!" Mariah was saying, to which Phil could hardly croak out a comment of consent before he was being pushed into Dan's cabin, the door slamming shut behind him. The other campers milling about in the small lounge like area gave Phil strange looks, to which he blinked blearily back at them before smiling, waving, and fast walking away to the boy's side of the cabin to go wake up Dan. There was a small smile on his face from Mariah's words, though, and he felt warm and loved knowing that she wanted everyone to spend the day together in order to say goodbye. It didn't' take long for Phil to locate Dan's bunk, and he smiled even sweeter as he took in Dan's curled up form on his bed. He looked so warm snuggled up like that. Phil sighed. He wanted to wake up to this sight every day. Leaning over Dan gently, Phil pressed his lips to Dan's cheek and murmured "Wake up, sleepyhead. The kids want breakfast."

True to Mariah's word, she actually did get Phil to come and wake him up. Dan was just about to drift back to sleep, his mind going blissfully numb, when a pair of warm lips pressed to his cheek. Dan melted under the touch, but whined when Phil told him to wake up. "Don't wanna," Dan pouted, peeking up at Phil sleepily. He couldn't hide the smile that found his lips when he saw Phil's soft expression as he looked down at Dan. So instead, Dan reached out of his blankets, grabbing Phil's hips, and effectively pulled his boyfriend into his little warm cocoon. "Why would I wake up when I am warm?" Dan muttered, tightening his arms around Phil's middle section and nuzzling his nose into Phil's neck.

Phil honestly hadn't been expecting Dan to reach out and grip tight to his hips before dragging him into bed with him. For the second time that morning, Phil had to catch himself before he lost his balance and tripped over nothing, falling into the bed nonetheless and far too pleased by the way Dan wound himself around Phil for it to be normal - he just really loved the way that Dan clung to him. It was the best feeling in the world, and soothed some of the parts of Phil terrified that things were going to change as soon as they left camp. Phil shivered a bit at Dan pressing his nose to his neck, but reached up to hold him back anyway. "Well, mostly because you want to spend the day with me, but also because our friends are waiting," Phil returned, pressing another soft kiss to Dan's head. His hair was soft and curly, and Phil loved having it pressed against him like this. He loved having all of Dan pressed against him like this.

"But we can spend the day together here!" Dan argued. At this point, he knew he was being ridiculous, but he really just liked being surrounded by warmth. Having Phil snuggling against him wasn't helping his want to stay in bed either, and he found himself curling around Phil, throwing one of his legs around Phil's waist to pull him closer, trapping his boyfriend in his grip. He was pouting even as Phil kissed his forehead, trying to urge him out of bed. "You're comfortable," Dan whined. But then he cracked open his eyes and sighed, peering up at Phil. He couldn't keep his upset facade for long because Phil was looking at him with an expression of pure love that was driving Dan insane. "Fine, I'll get up," Dan told him begrudgingly. "But only if you kiss me first and agree to be mine forever."

Phil couldn't stop giggling when Dan insisted they stay pressed together by wrapping his leg around Phil's waist and dragging him ever closer. Phil didn't actually mind, and he laughed as Dan snuggled him closer, seeming to want nothing more than to stay pressed tight to Phil. "I'm not a pillow," Phil complained back, smiling fondly at Dan, and surprised when his boyfriend actually bothered to move and looked up at Phil's face with the softest pair of brown eyes in existence. Phil's smile grew softer still, until he thought surely Dan could see just how much Phil loved him, and then Dan was agreeing to get out of bed, but first - with a roll of his eyes, Phil reached up and cupped Dan's cheeks gently. "I promise to be yours forever, Dan. To have and to hold, in sickness and in health..." he trailed off in favor of kissing Dan, lips melding together in that perfect way they always did now, eyes closing as he hummed and sunk into Dan properly.

Phil's words made Dan's entire chest tingle, and he shivered at the depth of them. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to hear those words until Phil was saying them, voice warm and soft like velvet. "Didn't know we were getting married now," Dan managed to choke out, voice teasing, but Phil didn't let him go on because then he was kissing him, lips moulding together with such familiarity that Dan's entire body went limp. Yes, he would love to be able to do this together forever. He kissed Phil back just as softly, humming as Phil's fingers stroked through his curly hair. They allowed themselves to bask in that feeling for a moment, until Phil pulled away and Dan was whining, trying to chase after his lips. "We should go," Phil whispered to him, making Dan pout. But he had promised, so he kissed Phil once more before moving to get up.

When Dan pouted, Phil was almost tempted enough to lean back in and kiss him again, push him over in his bed and snog the life out of him before doing... potentially other stuff. They hadn't fooled around yesterday, Phil could be convinced to do so today... but then Dan really was getting up, pressing another quick chaste kiss to Phil's lips and getting dressed, so Phil resolved himself to getting up and going to breakfast as well. Besides, Mariah had promised Dan and Phil could spend tomorrow together, and they couldn't very well just completely ignore their friends. Mariah and Caleb were quite a bit further away from Dan and Phil than Dan and Phil were to each other as well, so really, there were no more excuses left. Phil yawned as he stood, and then he went over as Dan pulled off his sleep shirt to wrap his arms around Dan's waist and drag him close. He hadn't missed what Dan had said before Phil had kissed him, and he could still feel the butterflies in his stomach at the idea of it. "I could marry you one day."

It was a lot harder to get up from his warm burrito than Dan had anticipated, and he huffed, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he turned to rifle through his luggage, looking for something to wear for the day. He was a bit excited for their activity that day because he was going to finally finish the painting of Phil. He wanted to see Phil's reaction when he saw it for the first time, how his eyes would light up and he would probably kiss the daylights out of Dan. The thought made Dan smile as he tugged off his bed shirt. Immediately, a pair of arms were wrapping around his bare abdomen, and Dan hummed, leaning into Phil's warm embrace. The words Phil uttered made Dan's breath catch, and he could hardly believe what he'd just heard. So he turned around in Phil's grip, grinning down at him, just to make sure he’d heard him right. "You mean that?" Dan asked softly. His entire body felt warm. "You'd really marry me?" It was a bit sickening considering they were so young and talking about marriage already, but Dan didn't care. The thought of marrying Phil one day put a grin on his face and made his stomach flutter. He wondered who's last name they would take, if Phil would want kids. But they weren't there yet. They were sixteen and had the entire future ahead of them. Still, Dan could dream.

There had been a time where Phil had thought he'd never be that guy, talking about marriage two weeks into a relationship - to be fair, he'd been with Dan for three, but that was besides the point - and yet here he was, determined to marry Dan in the end. Phil didn't imagine it would make any sense for him to date Dan if he didn't want to hopefully marry him one day, so he smiled at his boyfriend and nodded his head before he leaned in to kiss him, one hand coming up to cup Dan's cheek gently. Yeah, Phil wanted to marry Dan one day, if this all worked out, and it was kind of a promise. Phil thought he could marry Dan easy, and if he had his way, it would happen. Their mouths came together softly, with Dan humming against Phil's lips and kissing him back passionately while Phil just kind of held him, cradled his jaw in the palm of his hand the same way he wanted to cradle Dan's heart and keep it forever. When Phil pulled away, it was with tender eyes as he said "I love you, Dan."

Phil wanted to marry him. Phil wanted to marry him. Dan, of all people. He wondered what his past self would think of this moment, of how he was getting giddy over the possibility of marrying another man. He thought back to the very first day he'd laid eyes on Phil, how he’d thought he was intriguing although he didn't know why. How he couldn't take his eyes off of Phil no matter how hard he tried. Dan grinned as he thought about that. Turns out, he thinks he'd loved Phil ever since he first laid eyes on him. When Phil kissed him, Dan couldn't help but to melt into his touch, to kiss him so passionately that he could feel his heart in his throat. "I love you too," Dan whispered, trailing kisses all over Phil's face, from his cheeks to his nose to his jaw. He never wanted to stop kissing him. "I'd be honoured to be your lovely housewife one day," Dan snickered, because he just couldn't give up a chance at joking around. Phil just made him too damn happy that he could hardly contain himself.

It always felt wonderful to be peppered in kisses, and Phil was admittedly happy to have Dan being the one to want to do that to him. He laughed at the feeling of it, and rolled his eyes as Dan teased him, because he knew it just meant that Dan didn't know how else to express his own feelings of happiness right then. "Yeah? Alright, then, I guess I'll have to be the one to get a job and take care of you, then," he replied, and nuzzled at Dan a little more before pulling away, fully intending to let Dan go so they could go and have breakfast, but ended up stopping and leaning back in for one last kiss. Dan laughed at him, but Phil didn't mind, and he kissed him sweetly once more before pulling away. He didn't want to leave this moment, because he knew his worries about what was going to happen after camp would only come swooping back at him the second they were given a chance, and Phil didn't want to think about the possibility of their relationship crashing and burning the minute they were back in the real world. "Come on," Phil said, clearing his throat and pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind. "Let's go have breakfast."

"I mean I don't mind if you have to take care of me and our twelve kids," Dan shot back. He couldn't stop giggling at the image of him being a housewife, cooking dinner in an apron for when Phil got back home from work. It was just too endearing and he couldn't help leaning into Phil as he kissed him again. It was then time to leave their little sanctuary and head to breakfast, and Dan pouted as they left the cabin. Right away, he was grabbing Phil's hand, entwining their fingers together and swinging their arms happily between them. He didn't think anybody could ruin his good mood. "Took you long enough!" Mariah groaned when they found their group of friends in the cafeteria. "I thought we'd lost you to the land of sex again." Dan glared at her, his cheeks turning red. "Shut up! We wouldn't do that this early," he shot back. But that only made his group snicker a little more, Caleb muttering that yes, they would, under his breath. Okay so maybe they would do that, but it was a friend day. and Dan was not that much of an asshole.

Phil didn't even bother trying to defend them from their friends accusations, and he shrugged his shoulders with a light laugh instead, smirking when Caleb and Clarice realized Phil was looking at them specifically. He waggled his eyebrows a few times, and then discreetly fixed the color of his shirt. Immediately Clarice's eyes were going wide and she was adjusting the collar of the button up she'd chosen to wear that morning, while Caleb spluttered and tried to avert everyone's attention away. The others caught on quite quickly, however, and the taunting turned from Dan and Phil to Caleb and Clarice while the six of them wandered off to the breakfast hall. They settled in for breakfast quite quickly, with Caleb and Clarice talking about sneaking off to join them for painting today, and Mariah rolling her eyes but agreeing. The whole camp was sure to be a mess now that they were down to the last weekend, the last day of proper structured activities.

Dan was pleasantly surprised when he found that Clarice and Caleb had been doing some of their own messing around. Don't get him wrong, he figured something like that would be going on, but sometimes he forgot about anything else but his and Phil's relationship. Just goes to show how far he had his head up his ass in his own relationship. He just reminded himself to taunt Caleb about it later, just like they'd been doing to him for the past month. Breakfast went by quickly, everyone just shooting off snide comments about each other's sex lives, until it was time for workshops. Dan was completely antsy the entire time, excited to be getting back to his painting, but he did his best to pay attention to his friends while they all played ping pong. Dan, of course, had to get rather competitive, resulting in a deathly match between he and Mariah while the others watched on in silent horror. They were flinging the ball at each other hard and Dan even got hit in the face, leaving a bright red spot in it's wake. That only compelled him further though, until he was throwing out taunts and refusing to let Mariah win the match.

So Dan was competitive. Phil had already known that, but watching him go after Mariah the way he was, was... well. Terrifying. And Phil had thought his ping pong match with Dan had been scary, but this was on another level. Phil didn't ever want to face Mariah now. He was so intent on watching though, that he flinched violently when Dan got hit with the ball, about ready to walk on over there and make them both stop when Dan went after the ball determinedly and went back to his game. Phil was horrified, and he wasn't afraid to admit that he pouted a bit, concern for Dan brewing all the way until the last swing, when Mariah broke the tie and won. Dan looked pissed, Phil was relieved, and he immediately walked over to fuss over his boyfriend. "Come here," he insisted, taking Dan by the arm to draw him close. He was as careful as possible as he examined Dan’s cheek.

"No!" Dan screeched just as Dan missed the ball and felt it whir past him. Mariah let out a triumphant laugh, gloating about how she'd won, and Dan was about ready to throw the biggest temper tantrum of his life. He was so competitive it wasn't even funny, and Mariah was the only person who was just as competitive as he was, making them a terrifying match. "You bitch!" he sneered while she spit her tongue out at him, and he was tempted to just throw the stupid paddle at her. He was interrupted by Phil walking over to him, grabbing his cheeks in his hands and examining the spot on his cheek where he was hit with the ball. Dan had been so into it that he hadn't noticed the sting of the wound, but it was apparent now as Phil ran careful fingers over it. He allowed himself to relax, turning to putty in Phil's hands, and just let Phil look at him. "I'm fine," he insisted, smiling at Phil. "I promise it doesn't hurt that bad."

Phil didn't believe Dan in the least bit, tutting at him as the other boy winced a little at the feeling of Phil's fingers passing over the dark red mark on his face. Phil had seen the ball hit, he knew it was far worse than Dan was letting on, and he wasn't going to let him just ignore his injury. "It's not fine. You're face is getting swollen. It's going to bruise," Phil complained, examining the small wound carefully. He couldn't help feeling protective, couldn't help the way his stomach flipped in concern, and he winced again at the memory of seeing the ball strike Dan. "You're an idiot," he complained, tutting at Dan again and then pulling away. "We should get some ice," he decided, and flashed Mariah a quick smile when she seemed to start growing concerned. "He's fine. I'm just overprotective," he decided, taking Dan's hand in his and tugging him away. Dan was fine, Phil knew it, but he was still upset that Dan had gotten hurt in the first place.

Dan grumbled a bit as Phil insisted that they get him some ice for his face. He hadn't been lying, it wasn't that bad. It did hurt a bit, but not much at all, and Dan didn't think he needed any ice for it. "I promise it's not that bad," he said as Mariah looked at them with concern, and he flashed her a smile to prove it. Phil was so concerned that he didn't have it in him to complain when he started to pull him away towards the nurse's office, most likely. He liked when Phil was overprotective of him, like when he showed just how much he cared for Dan. It was nice and Dan didn't have it in him to argue. "This was just a ploy to get me alone, wasn't it?" Dan asked teasingly, winking.

Phil rolled his eyes, lips pursed as he dragged Dan off to the nurse's office to ask for some ice. As much as he knew he was being ridiculous, he definitely hadn't done it just to get Dan alone. He just.. he really couldn't get the sound of Dan being hit in the face out of his mind, and just thinking about it was upsetting Phil now. He shook his head, and bit his tongue, and didn't reply to Dan until they were safely locked away on a bed in the nurse's office with Phil pressing a bag of ice to Dan's face. "You're an idiot," he complained, then, because he felt ready to burst with incredulous indignation that Dan would let himself be hurt at all.

Dan giggled at Phil's words. His cheek was nearly frozen now where Phil was pressing the ice to his face, but he tried not to let it bother him. He knew just how much it meant to Phil to take care of him, so he tried to just allow him to do as he wished and baby him until Dan was all better. "I may be an idiot, but at least I'm your idiot," Dan told Phil, grinning widely. He threw a wink in there before sighing, glancing around the room with a small smile on his face. The nurse's office held a lot of memories for them and Dan could feel his heart swell just thinking about it. "Remember when I got punched in the face and ended up in here with you?" Dan asked quietly. His eyes found a loose thread on Phil's shirt and he stared at it in interest. "How we ended up really close, and I almost kissed you but didn't because I was scared?" Dan chuckled, shaking his head fondly. "I was so enamored with you, I could hardly believe you thought I didn't want to be with you. It was all I could think about. I was just too scared to act on it to protect my heterosexuality."

Phil swallowed thickly when Dan turned his gaze downward, playing with a loose thread on Phil's shirt as he spoke, reminiscing about the moment they'd gotten together. Just thinking about it still made Phil's heart race, made him ache with longing and fear, because in the back of his mind he was still so terrified that he was about to lose it all. They were going home in two days. Two days. Two more days to be with Dan unconditionally without the constant fear and pressure that everything would change the minute they were back home. This was Phil's first proper relationship, his first proper everything, and he didn't want it to end. There was no point in dating if you weren't in it for the long run, and yet... what happened when Dan had to come out to his family? What happened when he had to tell them he was dating Phil? "I remember," Phil murmured gently, eyes glued to the ice pack pressed to Dan's face so he wouldn't have to look into Dan's eyes. He was afraid Dan would see the fear there. "I was so scared... I'd started thinking, maybe he likes me, maybe he really likes me, and he's just going through a sexuality crisis. So when you asked me on the horse... I thought, I could help him, here, and maybe, I could even have a boyfriend out of it. But you wouldn't kiss me, you pulled away and I thought... I thought of course, just my luck."

Phil wouldn't look Dan in the eyes, instead keeping his gaze firmly on the ice pack on Dan's face. Dan had a sneaking suspicion that Phil was upset about something, but he didn't really know what. He frowned, mind racing. Why did Phil sound so sad? That moment was the best moment of his life. It was the moment he'd realized that he could have Phil, that he could be with Phil, and that he didn't have to do anything he was uncomfortable with just to prove that. He reached out and grasped Phil's hand in his, trying to catch his boyfriend's eye. "Realizing I wasn't straight had taken it's toll on me for a while. I was in denial about the whole thing for a while, but that moment on the horse made me realize that I had nothing to be afraid of." Dan cleared his throat, cheeks turning pink at the thought of just how he'd realized his sexuality, but he didn't bring it up. "I wanted to kiss you so bad, but I was just scared. It was like I'd woken up one day and suddenly had a thing for a pretty boy with the most beautiful blue eyes. It was pretty scary, but the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm glad I didn't let myself get scared and run off." Dan grinned at Phil. "It got me you, and that's all I could have ever asked for."

Phil couldn't help it - as soon as Dan assured him that what he'd said to Dan on the horse had helped, he found himself smiling. He squeezed Dan's hand, the one he'd reached out to grab Phil's free hand with, and kept his eyes trained on the ice pack he was still holding to Dan's face. Phil was kind of surprised Dan was letting him draw this out when he was certain Dan must think it was ridiculous and unnecessary to begin with. "I'm glad I could help, then," Phil murmured, heart beating hard in his chest, and tears beginning to prick at his eyes, because what was he going to do if Dan got scared off once they were free of the camp? Was Phil still going to be everything he wanted, the boy with the pretty blue eyes who had won his heart, or was he just going to be that fling he’d one time when he was experimenting before his parents set him right? Phil bit his lip. He didn't want to cry. "I'd just been waiting so long for... for someone I could truly like. For someone who I could fall in love with. And then you were there, and so close, but I just - I thought you were rejecting me. When you told me you weren't, when you said you just needed time... I was so happy, Dan. I was so happy." Phil was sure he sounded choked up, and he removed the ice from Dan's face for something to do. He placed it gently next to him on the bed, and removed his hand from Dan's grip, and then leaned in close to peer at the red mark, still somewhat swollen, but definitely not as bad as Phil had made it out to be. He sighed in relief.

It was as if Dan's words triggered something in Phil because suddenly Dan could see tears glittering in those beautiful blue eyes. Phil's voice was choked up as he spoke, and Dan couldn't help but panic slightly. Was it something he'd said? Was Phil upset with him? Phil's words showed nothing but happiness and thankfulness, but there was something in his tone that wasn't quite right, and Dan couldn't figure it out. His hands fluttered nervously by his sides and he bit his lip before bringing the hand that wasn't gripping Phil's hand and placing it on his cheek. He swiped his thumb under Phil's eye, even though he wasn't crying, in a soothing motion. "Well you have me now, don't you? And I love you so much that I don't think you can even comprehend." Phil was taking the ice pack from Dan's cheek, and he just then realized how numb his skin was from the cold. He'd hardly even noticed but he shivered now. "I could never reject you. You make me the happiest man in the world, Phil. And I can't wait to get out of this camp so I can finally bring you on a proper date. I can't stop thinking about it. Finally free to do as we please." Dan smiled softly at Phil. "It'll be amazing."

Phil startled a bit when Dan reached out and swiped a thumb under his eye, soothing him and wiping away imaginary tears that weren't so imaginary when Phil could feel them still there, prickling at his eyes. He had a hard time meeting Dan's eyes, but he did it, because Dan was speaking and looking at him with an earnest expression of absolute love and adoration. He seemed confused by Phil being upset, but determined to push through, to make him feel better. At the mention of finally being free of camp... the tears fell. Phil felt his lip wobble a bit, and tried to hold himself back, but he couldn't stop it now that it had started. Dan stared up at him in confusion and worry, managing a quiet "Wha - Phil?" before Phil was kind of just... collapsing. He let Dan go to sit down next to him, and pressed his face into his hands with a silent shudder as he held back the sobs in his chest. He didn't want to cry, didn't want to look so weak and dumb, but he couldn't help it. Dan sounded so... hopeful about their future outside of here, and Phil? Phil was convinced everything was going to fall apart. Dan put an arm around his shoulders that Phil nearly shrugged off, but instead, he found himself collapsing sideways into Dan and removing his hands to stare into his palms instead. "I don't want to leave here," he whispered, voice sounding thick with tears.

Dan had just been trying to make Phil feel better, and he was sure that he was going to. How wouldn't Phil feel good when Dan was promising him that he loved him and that they were going to be able to spend time together outside of camp? It was all that Dan had ever wanted, and he was sure that Phil wanted that to. So when Phil was suddenly collapsing, loud sobs racking his entire body, Dan couldn't help but be horribly confused. He didn't know what to do or what to say because everything that came from his mouth just seemed to make Phil feel worse. What a useless boyfriend he was if he couldn't even make Phil feel better. He wrapped an arm around Phil and brought him in close, wanting to press kisses to his hair but refraining in case Phil wasn't in the mood or didn't want it. To hear that Phil didn't want to leave camp shocked Dan, and his entire body tensed on accident. He took a deep breath. "I- why don't you want to leave camp?" Dan asked, choking out his words. "Don't you want to go on real dates and stuff? I... I don't really... understand?" At that, Phil started crying harder and Dan felt absolutely helpless. "Phil, please tell me what's bothering you," Dan begged, squeezing Phil's shoulder comfortingly.

He just couldn't stop. He wasn't trying to be insanely obnoxious or annoying, wasn't trying to confuse Dan, and yet it seemed they were both causing a mess between each other now. Dan kept trying to say that he wanted to go on dates and stuff with Phil outside of camp, and Phil had gone and convinced himself that they couldn't have that. Hearing Dan get all choked up in confusion wasn't helping in the least bit, as it made Phil feel worse, but he didn't know what was going to happen outside of camp and that was what was upsetting him the most. Turning as Dan squeezed his shoulder, Phil moved to wrap his arms around Dan and dragged him in as close as he could. Dan let out a surprised sound, but otherwise hugged Phil back easily enough. Phil sniffled against his neck, trying to calm down, to find his words, but found that he couldn't. He just wanted to hide here and pretend that everything was going to be okay.

Phil wouldn't stop crying and it was making Dan upset as well. Suddenly, he was getting extremely self conscious, as if he wasn't good enough, like Phil actually didn't want to do that stuff with him. As soon as they were out of camp, did Phil want to break up? Is that why he was crying? Did he not want to go on dates and hang out with Dan? Dan's heart was sinking with each heavy sob from Phil's chest, and he did his best to bite back his own tears. He absolutely didn't want to lose Phil, but he couldn't help but feel as if he was. Phil was suddenly miles away from him, no matter how close they were in proximity. Dan let out a surprised noise when Phil suddenly turned and barreled into his chest, hugging him close. He didn't push Phil away, instead burying his nose into Phil's hair and inhaling the familiar scent of raspberries that he'd gotten used to over the past month. Even though they were hugging, Dan felt distant. He didn't know what was wrong with Phil, but he could feel himself building walls around his heart. Dan may be inexperienced, but he knew that a crying boyfriend wasn't a good thing after talking about their future together. So where Dan would normally be kissing Phil all over, he didn't. He just stayed frozen, waiting for the moment when Phil was going to tell him that he didn't truly want to be with him outside of camp.

It hurt, when Dan didn't try and fight to calm Phil down. It hurt, when he sat there frozen while Phil sobbed into his neck. It hurt when all Phil wanted was for Dan to hold him back, to mean it in his embrace, to be certain that what he wanted was a future with Phil. It hurt so, so much that Phil just cried harder, trying to cling tighter to Dan, his fingers twisting up in his shirt as he sobbed. He pressed his nose to Dan's neck, kissed him there, made a strangled sound when Dan still didn't respond, and then just kind of... let himself cry himself out. Dan never really clutched him back the way Phil clutched Dan, and all he could think was this is it. He already doesn't want me anymore. By the time Phil had stopped crying, there was a small hiccup in each of his breaths, and his nose was so blocked up that he was sure he wouldn't be able to speak properly if he tried. His hold on Dan loosened until he was letting him go all together and turning his body away. He wiped under his eyes, but he still didn't speak, because Dan - Dan didn't want him anymore, and it felt like that was it. All those false promises, and for what? What reason could he possibly have wanted to pretend like he wanted Phil after camp? He sniffled, and then stood up on shaking legs, shoulders slumped as he turned his back to Dan. He didn't know what to say. "I feel like I've ruined everything," he managed to get out, coughing because hi voice sounded rough and hoarse in all the worst ways. "This camp was - is - has been like a safe place, and I don't - I don't know what's going to happen when we leave, but - but you - do you even want me after? When everything goes back to normal? When - when you're back home, before you - before me? It doesn't - it doesn't even seem like you do."

Phil was a mess on the outside and Dan was a mess on the inside. He could feel his heart straining against his chest, beating so hard that it hurt. His hands were shaking, his hold on Phil loose, and he stared blankly at the wall as Phil cried himself out. He couldn't really feel anything at this point. He didn't know what he'd done wrong. He had thought he'd been a good boyfriend, someone that Phil could depend on, but here was Phil sobbing in his arms after Dan admitted to being excited to having him after camp. He didn't know what to feel, didn't know how to respond. How do you react when the same person you love so much is about to break your fucking heart? Dan didn't meet Phil's eyes when he finally backed away. Instead he stayed slumped in the chair, his eyes moving to stare glumly at his hands. His lips were set in a firm line, waiting for Phil to just tell him that he didn't want him anymore. So when Phil spoke, Dan was surprised. He was worried Dan didn't want him? It was a mix of emotions for Dan at that. First, he felt surprise. Surprise that Phil apparently didn't want to break up with Dan. Then came the anger because he was accusing Dan of not wanting him. And finally, the hurt. Because apparently he didn't trust Dan enough to believe that Dan would want to be with him even outside of camp. Dan felt as if he was going to puke. "I- why wouldn't I want to be with you?" Dan asked slowly, his voice quiet. He could tell that his hurt had seeped through and he didn't try to stop it. He felt like a right mess. "I wouldn't just give myself away to you only to throw you away as soon as camp is over. I'd like to think I'm better than that. I'm not- not Valerie, Phil." He took a deep breath and scratched at a spot on his thigh. "Just because I had a sexuality crisis doesn't mean my feelings for you are going to change. I'm still- still Dan. I'm still your Dan. Whether we're in camp or not wouldn't change that." Dan cleared his throat, his voice small. He couldn't look at Phil. "I love you and you should know that by now."

When Dan finally spoke up, his voice was so hurt that Phil spun on his heel immediately, staring at Dan with a tear stained, red face and a nose so stuffy he probably looked like a goose. He couldn't even began to pretend that he cared about how he looked, though, not when Dan's' voice was so small and he was avoiding Phil's gaze the same way that Phil had avoided Dan's earlier. Suddenly, Phil felt like the biggest idiot on the face of the planet, because somehow, in the midst of his own panic and unease and pain, he'd managed to hurt Dan. Phil felt his heart plummet to his feet, felt himself want to start crying all over again, and could do nothing other than stare as Dan spoke. It hurt, hearing Dan have to defend himself, hurt to realize that Phil had done that, had put that pain and hurt there, had caused something deep to press between them. He could practically see Dan curling into himself, drawing away from Phil, even as he said that he was still the same Dan, Phil's Dan, that he loved Phil and that he'd expected Phil to know that by now. Phil's bottom lip wobbled, and he pressed a face to his hand all over again to cover the tears. Fuck, fuck, how had he messed this up so spectacularly. "I -" he tried to say, but there were no words to fix this. What was he even meant to do? "I love you," he managed, and let himself collapse to the floor and curl into himself as well, arms wrapped around his legs. He pressed his face to his knees and tried to quiet the new tears as they came. "I - I do know that, I do," he tried to argue weakly, but even he knew that it hadn't sounded like it just then. "I'm just - I'm so scared. I - I don't know what's going to happen after all this, when we're not - when you have to come out, and - and be with me in public, and I -" Phil cut himself. He wasn't meant to be making excuses, what was he doing. "I didn't - I'm just -" insecure. He wanted to say he was insecure, but he couldn't make the words come out, and before he knew it, he was going quiet again. He heard Dan stand up, felt him move around Phil, knew he was leaving, and managed one more broken "I'm sorry," before Dan was gone.

Phil had started to cry again and Dan could feel the crack between them begin to deepen just a little bit more. He was trying to defend himself, trying to say that he loved Dan and that he knew Dan loved him too, but it just didn't sit right with Dan. If Phil trusted him, then why was he sitting there talking about how Dan was going to lose feelings for him as soon as they were out of camp? Dan wasn't like that. He loved Phil, he fucking loved him and it hurt to hear that Phil didn't trust him. He would cross any bridge as long as it meant he would be with Phil. He would come out to his parents and walk down the street holding Phil's hand. He would shout it from the fucking rooftops if he could. So why was his own boyfriend sitting there telling him that he wouldn't make these sacrifices when Dan was completely sure of what he was getting himself into and was ready to cross these bridges for their relationship? He couldn't listen to this. He felt like he was going to throw up. His own boyfriend didn't trust him because Dan had a fucking sexuality crisis, and Dan thought he was going to actually be sick. Without thinking about it, he stood up. His legs were shaking and his entire body was shaking, and there was bile rising in his throat. He didn't even get out any words, couldn't, before he was out the door, Phil's apology ringing in his ears. He needed time to think. Dan got approximately twenty steps away from Phil, just outside the nurse's office, when he leant over and retched right into the bushes. It left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth and he couldn't help but chuckle dryly at the irony.

(Next)

[eli-reviewsthings]

10 Ten movies of 2016

Hey everybody. That hellish year is over, and now we can spend some time looking back at all the shit things were made that we were forced to sit through, and appreciate the great ones!

10. The Lobster: Not gonna lie, I was tempted to not put this and number 9 even on this list, but god. So many bad movies came out I kinda didnt have much else to put on here. Not saying the Lobster is a bad movie, it is not, just. Difficult. This movie was difficult to watch, and probably the second most uncomfortable movie I saw this year. There were a plethora of scenes that were made me squirm in my very uncomfortable seat. The most notable of which is a woman viying for the affection of the main character botches a suicide attempt and sits, dying slowly on the ground screaming while the main character attempts to flirt with a hot sociopath. And thats kinda a lot of the movie; violent and awkward. Much to my surprise, the movie ended up being an amazing look at love and relationships, and actually had some scenes that were genuinely touching, partly because of how cold, sterile, and viscous the rest of the movie was. The biggest problem that I have with this movie however, comes from my frustration with the ending. It goes in line with movies like Birdman, that just dont seem to know how to end. Note to future directors and writers: Ambiguity is a fine tool, but understand that not having a satisfying ending is not always a good thing. 

9. The Neon Demon: Whatever about the actual movie, its NWR (as he’s calling himself nowadays, groan) and I liked it, but. But. I must tell you all about the most stressful day I’ve ever had, and how it made this movie the most nerve racking experience of my life. I was staying at a hotel for anime expo with four other friends, when we were woken up at 4am by three things all happening at once: 1, the fire alarm went off, prompting 2, one of the guys woke up screaming from a nightmare while 3, one of the other guys decided to start screaming FIRE and both took off running down the hall. Later we learned it was a false alarm but I thought we were being murdered. After that I couldn’t sleep so I watched Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared which was disturbing and then the fire alarm went off 4 more times prompting one of the guys to scream every time. The I saw the Neon Demon. And honestly, it was such a stressful experience I have a hard time actually thinking about the movie because all I remember is being on my very last nerve and on the brink of a panic attack.

8. 10 Cloverfield Lane: You spend a lot of time looking at Mary Elizabeth Winstead’s ass and she is the most resourceful protagonist I’ve ever seen. It’s also a Cloverfield sequel which I love and John Goodman is a villain. Literally what more could you want. 

7. Rouge One: One of the best Star Wars films by far, I actually really enjoyed Rouge One, much more than I thought I would. It did a good job developing it’s character over the course of the movie, something Star Wars has literally never done without being either extremely cliched or just plain bad. My only complaints were that a, its still way too easy to just beat Stormtroopers with sticks, though I did appreciate the breaking glass, and b, the final fight was almost impossible to follow who was where and where the enemies were coming from. Besides that, fun action movie with some really solid performances and Alan Turdyk which is all you could want from a sci fi film.

6. The Nice Guys: Listening to Ryan Gosling scream after getting his ass kicked by Russel Crowe was one of the funniest things I got to see this year. Honestly though, this was a wonderful little gem of a movie and I really enjoyed every second of it. Not the best plot, and some kinda lame character development but hey, it was the best example of slapstick humor done well I’ve seen in years. Really, just such a fun film to watch.

5. Sing: I’m really surprised myself to see this movie so high on my list but the more I thought about the movie the more I enjoyed it. I’m a theater guy, I have a degree in theater and I’ve been doing musicals since 5th grade, so a movie about the magic of theater was really lovely to sit through. It did an amazing job of taking an incredibly broad array of music and bringing it together, and then making a white kid basically be a British Weekend, but hey besides that I loved the film. Sure it had tons and tons and tons of flaws but, I’m willing to forgive a lot because films are about enjoyment and sometimes you just have to find a film, acknowledge its not the best, and love it all the same.

4. Magnificent 7: Speaking of films that aren’t the best but I loved, this is easily the best action movie to come out in years. Also, one of the few movies to do a large ensemble cast, give all the characters equal development and, almost, equal screen time and have them all feel unique. Top it off with a diverse cast, some amazing shoot outs and you the perfect recipe for a great western.

3. Deadpool: Just go and watch the title sequence. Thats why I love this movie. Deadpool as a character has a tendency to annoy me but damn Ryan Reynolds did a great job walking that thin line and delivered the best iteration of Deadpool I’ve ever seen. The movie is was the only superhero movie to come out this year, that I saw, that wasn’t the exact same garbage nonsense we’ve seen what feels like a thousand times by now. Yeah, I’m looking at you, you piece of utter shit Civil War. Or, as it should be called: We didn’t have a good fight choreographer and uh Bucky can block a shotgun blast with his hand and somehow Caps team which is basically just a bunch of normal dudes and scarlet witch, and somehow they beat iron mans team cause the writers are lazy and just churning out these pieces of shit at this point, no I’m not just angry about Cap making out with that blonde bitch after Peggy died, fuck you that movie was a complete mess and you know it. That felt good, glad I got that off my chest, lets get back to Deadpool, because it has the camera guy from Cloverfield in it and I love him and this movie was a beautiful breath of fresh air and left me very excited about the next guardians of the galaxy because hopefully it wont fall into the same traps the rest of marvel has.

2. Your Name/ Kimi no na Wa: Mokoto Shinkai could animate himself taking a shit and I’d probably love every second of it. Seriously though, I love his work, and this film was the best he’s done since Voices From a Distant Star. It has heart, gorgeous animation, great characters, and a nice dose of humor that is usually absent in his films. It’s an amazing film and if it doesn’t win best animated film at the oscar’s then they’re racist and they have no taste.

1. Arrival: When me and my mom got into the car after seeing this she started bawling. Just sobbing uncontrollably. Normally when my mom gets emotional its over things I consider dumb or just not worth crying over but this time I understood it. This movie might be one of the more moving things I’ve seen in awhile. Way back in the day, I read a book called My Name is Asher Lev, and the book starts with a quote from Kafka: “A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.” This has always been something of my compass for what separates a good thing from a great one. And by god this movie was great. Sure, it is a little cheesy, I’ll be the first to admit that, but I just don’t care. Cheesy or not this film spoke to me in ways a movie hasn’t in too long. I choking back tears so many times during the film and Amy Adams performance was masterful. This is easily the best film I’ve seen this year, and will make my list of best films of all times. I’ve seen almost all of Dennis Villenvue’s films up to Arrival, and his films have a tendency of being very dispassionate and emotionally sterile and it was truly wonderful to see him make a movie that was bursting at the seems with feeling. I could sing the praises of this film forever so I’ll end it there.

So there we have it, 10 films I saw this year and left the theater going, “Man that wasn’t as shitty as some of the other films I saw this year that was nice!” Now theres some films that just didn’t make the cut so heres some honorable mentions:

Finding Dory, Train to Busan, Kubo and the Two Strings, Star Trek Beyond and Girl on the Train.

And now some of the Shittiest movies I had the complete displeasure sitting through: Civil War (huge surprise), Don’t Breathe, Ghostbusters, Jason Bourne, and I’m sure theyre some I’m forgetting cause I don’t want to remember them.

Allin in all there were a lot of films I wanted to see that I didn’t get to, but hopefully this year I can make a list of 10 films that I enjoyed seeing! Let me know what y’all thought and I’ll see you all later with some other list in the coming days!

[newssplashy]

Opinion: A rough rehearsal, a suicide and a broadway show in turmoil

NEW YORK — The text came in on a Thursday afternoon. The director of “Chicago,” the second-longest-running show in Broadway history, wanted to see the sole remaining member of the opening night cast the next day.

It was an unusual request. The cast member, Jeff Loeffelholz, an understudy who in recent years rarely performed, hadn’t met with the director in a long time.

The encounter was brief, but, for Loeffelholz, unsettling. In notes he jotted down and in text messages to a friend, he said that the director had been “brutal” and that the musical director had criticized his performance. At the end, Loeffelholz wrote, the director told him to “respect the production,” which he interpreted as a suggestion that he should consider quitting.

Six days later, Loeffelholz killed himself.

It is rarely possible to know exactly why someone takes his own life, and suicide generally has multiple causes.

But the death of Loeffelholz on June 29 has rattled the cast, crew and creative team of one of Broadway’s marquee shows.

“It’s something that has really unnerved the whole company,” Bruce Bonvissuto, a trombonist in the orchestra, said. “It’s really been a very difficult period to go out and do a show every night.”

However complex the causes of Loeffelholz’s death may be, widespread discussion of his final rehearsal has brought new attention to the way theatrical creative teams wield power in an era of increasing concern about how managers treat subordinates in the workplace.

“Since Jeff’s tragic death, we have heard from a new round of Equity members that bullying is still far too common in the theater, despite our work on harassment prevention,” Mary McColl, executive director of Actors’ Equity, the union representing performers and stage managers, said.

Some have taken to social media to detail instances in which they felt mistreated or abused. “Backstage bullying is essentially Broadway’s dirty little secret,” Robert DuSold, an actor, wrote in a blog post about Loeffelholz’s death.

The show’s producers, director and musical director all expressed sadness over Loeffelholz’s death; the production and the director declined to comment on details while investigations are underway, while the musical director said she has always behaved professionally.

An investigation is being conducted by Actors’ Equity, which hired a lawyer to review the death and said it would share the results with the cast. The producers hired their own lawyer to investigate, but then decided to “rethink the process,” according to a spokesman, after that lawyer complained about a lack of cooperation from the cast, some of whom were suspicious about whether the show’s inquiry would be objective.

Anger has been directed at the producers and directors, but whether that is fair is a difficult question. Broadway, the mountaintop of theater, is by nature a demanding place. Tough rehearsals happen all the time.

And Loeffelholz, at 57, was dealing with the kind of career and life pains every actor goes through — indeed, the pains that many everyday workers go through. He was not getting any younger, and his character, a small but demanding role, was not getting any older. He and his partner had also lost control of a chocolate shop they ran in Rockefeller Center and were fighting with the owners.

But no one — not his friends, not his partner, not his bosses, and not his colleagues — seemed to know the depths of his despair until he was found, near death, in his apartment.

— Dream Role for an Unusual Talent

“Chicago,” a musical satire about a group of murderous women seeking to parlay their notoriety into careers in vaudeville, is among the best-known shows Broadway has produced; a 2002 film adaptation was the rare musical to win an Academy Award for best picture. The current Broadway revival — the original ran for two years in the 1970s — opened in 1996, and has been performed more than 9,000 times, grossing $625 million thus far; the show is also running in London, and has had multiple tours. Only “The Phantom of the Opera,” which opened in New York in 1988, has been on Broadway longer.

Loeffelholz was an unusual figure in the “Chicago” milieu — a standby for the character Mary Sunshine, a journalist with a soft spot for sob stories who is played by a male soprano dressed in women’s clothing. Loeffelholz’s responsibilities involved calling in eight times a week to see if he was needed, and, if not, staying near the theater while the show was running. When the revival opened, he signed a standard contract guaranteeing him a job for the life of the show; such a provision was not unusual, but most productions measure their life spans in months rather than decades.

The role was a dream for Loeffelholz, a theater lover who could sing high notes most men cannot reach. He brought a comic flair to the part, and took pride in the enormous applause he routinely received when his character is revealed to be a man.

"It was the perfect role for him — it fit his voice and it fit his personality,” a cousin, Donna Wynn, said.

Loeffelholz’s domestic partner, Peter De La Cruz, said the couple chose their apartment to be near the Ambassador Theater, where “Chicago” is performed, so he could dash over when needed, and when they would eat out, they would choose a restaurant in the neighborhood. “He loved it,” De La Cruz said. “Sometimes he would go on midway through the show. You have to have nerves of steel, and he did.”

Loeffelholz was born and raised in Norman, Oklahoma. His father, Ray Loeffelholz, died by suicide at the age of 23, about three months before Jeff Loeffelholz’s birth, according to a friend and a news report at the time. His mother died, apparently of a heart attack, at 45, when Loeffelholz was in college; he sang “You’ll Never Walk Alone” from “Carousel” at her funeral.

Jeff discovered theater in high school, and studied drama at the University of Oklahoma. In college he got experience performing in women’s clothing — appearing in drag in one of the plays that became “Torch Song Trilogy” — and began developing his soprano, at first as a way of mimicking the divas he adored.

“He lived as if in a musical,” said a friend, Bart Ebbink. “Certain songs would fit a situation he was in, and he would burst into song.”

Upon graduation, he, his boyfriend and Ebbink piled into a car and drove to New York. They found an apartment in Astoria, Queens, and embarked on new lives; in 1986 he met De La Cruz, who was with him until his death.

Loeffelholz began performing in comedic cabaret acts where he would sing songs normally performed by women — at first in “Soprano Showstoppers,” and then, with Michael Tidd, in “Dangerous Duets.” He played Mary Sunshine in summer stock in Potsdam, New York, years before landing the Broadway standby role.

In the revival’s early years, Loeffelholz went on as Mary Sunshine many times, but in recent years he was rarely used.

Under the contract, Loeffelholz could be fired only for cause. He could be bought out — a step that would have cost the budget-minded production, which has used tight cost controls to continue running for 22 years, about $30,000 to $40,000, according to his friends.

Adrian Bryan-Brown, a spokesman for the production, said “the amount of a buyout would not be a limiting factor in making decisions that benefit the production” and that “the producers had no reason to buy out Mr. Loeffelholz.”

— Called in Before Rehearsal

Loeffelholz feared that the production no longer supported him, and he was worried when he was asked to come in just before a full-cast rehearsal, on June 22, to work with the show’s director, Walter Bobbie, and musical director, Leslie Stifelman.

Bobbie, 72, is an admired stage veteran with 21 Broadway credits as an actor, director and writer; he won a Tony for his direction of “Chicago.” Stifelman, 58, was a “Chicago” pianist who in 2003 was elevated to musical director; she conducts the onstage orchestra and speaks a few lines of dialogue. She has described the cast as family, and even met her wife, Melissa Rae Mahon, through the show.

Loeffelholz had no real relationship with Bobbie, and he felt that Stifelman didn’t like him, friends said.

“He thought something might be up,” said Brian Rardin, a close friend and Tidd’s partner.

Loeffelholz texted Rardin during breaks in the rehearsal, and jotted down notes afterward. “Walter was Brutal and I feel like it was a set up directed towards me personally!” he texted to Rardin. “They made me do the song about 5 times at one point he got mad and walked out.”

In the notes Loeffelholz left, he said that, as he repeatedly sang Mary Sunshine’s big number, “A Little Bit of Good,” Bobbie asked him to “quit overperforming it and being draggy”; said he couldn’t hear the song’s lower notes; and described himself as “very disappointed” and “very upset” before leaving the auditorium. Stifelman then said she wanted to work on the middle section of the song with Loeffelholz, saying “you always do it wrong,” according to his notes.

Much of his description was confirmed by witnesses who heard parts of it, but asked not to be identified because they feared endangering their positions with the show. Bryan-Brown said those descriptions “do not represent our understanding of the events of that day” but declined to be more specific while the investigations are ongoing.

According to Loeffelholz’s notes, he and Bobbie had a brief final conversation at the lip of the stage, which none of the witnesses heard. He wrote that Bobbie had asked him to “respect the production,” said “I cannot tell you what to do, but 22 years”; said that he did not agree with run-of-production contracts; and said “you make more money than I do with this production.” (Bryan-Brown said the actor did not out-earn the director. Loeffelholz made an estimated $106,000 a year, the current Broadway minimum.)

Stage rehearsals, of course, can be demanding, and repeating a song or scene is common; witnesses said the interaction with Loeffelholz was not as tough as some they had experienced at “Chicago,” and a stage manager’s report that day noted nothing unusual. But the Mary Sunshine song is taxing for the male voice, and the exchange hit Loeffelholz hard. He was in a dark mood by the time he got home. “He was definitely upset, depressed, despondent,” Tidd said.

The following Monday, Loeffelholz met with a representative from Actors’ Equity, the union, to report the interaction. But over the next few days, he remained out of sorts. “He said, ‘I have a scarlet letter,'” De La Cruz recalled. “He was so mad that they took this route.’

On Thursday evening, Loeffelholz sent a round of texts to friends, saying “I love you”; wrote “No joy” on a notepad; and then swallowed a lethal amount of alcohol and pills. When De La Cruz got home from work, he found him unresponsive; the next day he was removed from life support. The medical examiner ruled the death a suicide.

— Backstage Despair

Determining the cause of suicide is, of course, difficult. Many people are treated roughly at work, and even lose their jobs, without killing themselves.

Loeffelholz had experienced some financial stress. After working at, managing and investing in a Teuscher Chocolates shop in Rockefeller Center for years (he would often bring Champagne truffles to “Chicago”), De La Cruz was laid off and Loeffelholz resigned in 2016, when the shop’s owner moved to bring in new leadership. The couple sued Teuscher, and the case is pending in state court.

“They weren’t struggling, but they were worried, and the stress of being an older performer on Broadway is tremendous,” said the couple’s lawyer, Juan C. Restrepo-Rodriguez.

“Chicago” performers interviewed said that, although they were stunned by Loeffelholz’s suicide, they were not surprised by the incident that preceded it. Multiple current and former musicians, most speaking anonymously because they feared retribution, said Bobbie could be intimidating and Stifelman could belittle or disrespect performers.

“She would regularly be cursing, slamming things, and trash-talking musicians and performers,” said Dan Peck, a musician who previously played the bass and tuba for the show. “And whenever Jeff was on, despite the audience loving him, she would be throwing shade and rolling her eyes.”

Stifelman, who has stayed away from the show since shortly after Loeffelholz’s death, disputed the descriptions, saying in an email, “In two decades working at “Chicago” I’ve trained hundreds of performers with the utmost of professionalism and respect and any insinuation to the contrary is just not true.” She said she never told Loeffelholz “you always do it wrong.”

“No words can ever begin to express how profoundly saddened I am by Jeff’s passing and for all that Jeff’s family and friends are going through,” she said. “In the 20-plus years I have worked for the producers of Chicago, my job has been the music, never hiring or firing, and in all that time without incident.”

She has support from Rob Fisher, the show’s original musical director, who said, “I’ve never seen her belittle or humiliate, and it’s hard for me to imagine that.” Fisher also said “everybody loved Jeff,” but added that the role of Mary Sunshine “is not something that people can do for 22 years — male vocal cords can’t sustain singing in that range.”

Bobbie declined to comment, but his union, the Stage Directors and Choreographers Society, released a statement on his behalf. “With two investigations ongoing, it is not appropriate for our member Walter Bobbie or for SDC to discuss the tragedy,” the statement said. “Walter is deeply saddened by Jeff Loeffelholz’s death and offers his sincere condolences to Jeff’s family and loved ones.”

Bryan-Brown said the production had received no prior complaints about Bobbie or Stifelman.

Initially the producers, Barry and Fran Weissler, named as their investigator a lawyer, Judd Burstein, who had represented them, leading some performers to believe he would not be objective. Many performers refused to meet with him, and another lawyer, Bruce Maffeo, appointed by Equity to conduct a separate investigation, discouraged such meetings. When Burstein publicly objected, and said Equity was in “circle the wagons mode” because of its own handling of Loeffelholz’s concerns, the Weisslers decided to reconsider how to proceed.

“It is important to them that both the unions and the company have confidence in the process for investigating the matter,” Bryan-Brown said.

Loeffelholz’s friends are hoping the investigations will have an impact.

“We want the whole truth,” said Marshall Coid, the “Chicago” violinist. “We seek change in his name as a fitting legacy for a wonderful and much-beloved man.”

While the investigations proceed, family and friends are planning an Aug. 7 memorial at St. Malachy’s Church, known as the actors’ chapel, where Loeffelholz, who was raised Catholic, would occasionally attend Mass.

And in a backstage stairwell at the theater, there are two tributes to Loeffelholz. In one corner is a shrine with candles, photos of Loeffelholz, and a plastic bag holding his body mic. And on the next landing, cast and crew have begun writing in iridescent markers on a black wall words expressing their hopes for change: “Love.” “Kindness.” “Support.” “Respect.”

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.

Michael Paulson © 2018 The New York Times

source http://www.newssplashy.com/2018/07/opinion-rough-rehearsal-suicide-and_30.html