#'it should be the famous person who's a PR's nightmare not the opposite'

[nishicchikouchi]

In modern AU, Clopeh wouldn't be Cale's stalker in the entertainment world. He would be the too zealous and the Cale enthusiast PR leader. Like, he would hunt whoever makes bad rumors about Cale, would make the best caption for his posts and just would take very good care of Cale's image overall. Cale thinks he's a bit weird and insane but since he's good enough with the job, he doesn't fire him.

Clopeh was originally was of those reporters who pushes buttons and asks the most controversial things in public interviews with famous people, he completely becomes enamoured with after an interview where he was crushed by such a respectful (actually, it was roasting), factual and thoroughly worded response.

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Holden Caulfield or Nancy Drew

PART THIRTY-ONE OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: nightmares, anxiety/panic attacks, mentions of domestic abuse/violence, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 7.5K (this is long for some reason idk lads)

Summary: Jess and Ella return to Stars Hollow for Liz’s baby shower.

“So, how do you feel about artificial intelligence?” Ella asked, unprompted, finishing a drawing of some ducklings feasting on a vulture. Her sketchpad sat to her right on the arm of the couch. She was working with the new theme of opposition.

Jess looked up from his book, his head lying on her lap, and furrowed his brows. “What?”

She shrugged. “I read about some guy in the woods of Montana creating an AI all on his own. I think it’s a recipe for disaster.”

“How so?” Setting the book on his chest upside-down, Jess glanced at her inquisitively.

Her eyes were still trained on the drawing she was completing with only one hand. “Well, once they gain a more humanoid form, will they assimilate completely into the human race or will they be distinct from us? I mean, will they enact some revenge plot on us or will we coexist peacefully? We’re not the first humans who’ve had to think about this, but it’s the new millennium. Seems like that kinda stuff is closer than ever.”

Breathing a long sigh, Jess let a smirk cross his face. He peeked at his watch, and found it was only half past five. Chris was due home soon, having gone to do some PR business. Matthew was staying at Mabel’s place for the weekend. The apartment, silent save for their voices, was bathed in evening light. It had been warm for a February day, but a cold front was set to arrive very soon.

“It’s not even six yet. And already we’ve arrived at Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” he asked with a doubtful chuckle.

Finally, she did the last bit of shading on her sketch and shut her book, her pencil saving her place. Her smile was small and sardonic. “You mean Blade Runner? Or are you actually insinuating that the book was better than the movie?”

“I’m not insinuating, Stevens. I’m stating a known fact,” he argued flatly.

She rolled her eyes. “Are you ever gonna get some taste?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he shot back.

Ella scoffed. “Says the man who honestly believes Coldplay could be described as an alternative band?”

“I’m not having this conversation again,” Jess deadpanned playfully, picking his book back up.

“Because you know I’m right.”

“Because you’re relentlessly stubborn.”

“On this particular topic?” Ella said, eyebrows raised. “Any sane person would be.”

“‘Sane’ isn’t quite the right word,” Jess muttered, pretending to ignore her.

She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, then gave a curt nod and snatched the Kesey book from his hands before he could even react. Sitting up instantly, Jess eyed the book where she held it over the arm of the couch. Certainly, it was in his reach, but that wasn’t the point.

“You know this means war, right?” he asked.

“I’m aware,” she replied coolly, mocking. “But you’ll just have to try to come over here and get this back.”

“If you insist,” he shrugged, sighing slightly.

He launched forwards and began tickling her sides. Eyes widening, Ella dropped the book. The paperback fell with a small thud on the cracked hardwood on the other side of the couch, forgotten. Her sketchbook also slipped off the arm of the couch, the pencil falling out and rolling underneath the chair nearby. Jess had gone straight for the jugular. It had only taken sleeping in the same bed with her a few times for him to realize Ella was one of the most ticklish people he had ever encountered. She laughed loudly, openly, throwing her head back. Her hair splayed behind her as she laid her head against one of the throw pillows and Jess ended up on top, straddling her.

“This is what you get for being a book tease, Daria,” he said.

Her smile was wide, hurting her cheeks, as she pleaded through breathless giggles. “Fuck you! Stop!”

After a few more seconds, he obliged, his hands going slack and gripping her sides gently instead. The grin remained on her lips, her cheeks a lively pink. She caught her breath, dreamy eyes softening as her gaze lingered on his face. “I hate you, Mariano.”

He chuckled in disbelief. “You love me.”

Ella shrugged as Jess leaned in closer to her, breath hot on her face. “Close enough.”

As he went to kiss her, she placed a hand on the back of his neck, cool against his flushed skin. Her lips were soft but firm, needy. She was just wrapping her legs around his waist as he sat up, preparing to lift her up and take her to their bedroom, when Chris walked in. Immediately after tossing his keys on the kitchen counter, he staggered back and clamped his free hand over his eyes.

“Ugh, c’mon guys!” he whined.

Ella gasped and pulled away, hiding her face behind Jess, who turned to his friend with an annoyed stare. About a minute more and they would’ve been in the clear.

“How many times?” Chris continued, glancing through his splayed fingers to ensure it was safe before removing his hand again. “This is a communal living room! Communal!”

“Sorry,” Jess said lightly. “Next time, we’ll hang a sock on the door.”

Ella shoved his shoulder playfully, embarrassed. “Shut up!”

Chris grimaced in distaste but let it slide. He cast a stack of envelopes on the coffee table in front of them before going to hang up his things. “Some mail came.”

Swallowing thickly, Ella climbed off of Jess and began sifting through the mail. Jess watched her go through the envelopes, his chin resting on her shoulder. She tossed a few his way, some bills and some author inquiries.

Only two of them were for her, one being a check for her teacher’s assistant services. The spring semester was going considerably better than the fall, as Ella got the hang of the program. She smiled down at it and picked up her sketchbook again, tucking the check inside and making a mental note to cash it on Monday. Underneath it was a larger envelope, addressed in delicate, handwritten cursive. The return address was for a woman named Carrie from Stars Hollow. For the life of her, she couldn’t produce a face to match the name. Furrowing her brows, she ripped it open and read the stiff card which fell out.

“Hm,” she hummed, beginning to chew at her thumbnail as she looked it over.

“What’s up?” Jess asked absently, flipping through his own pile.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella took a hesitant pause before she spoke. The door shut behind Chris as he disappeared into his own room, and Ella was glad the inquiring ears were gone. “I got invited to Liz’s baby shower.”

“Huh,” Jess chirped, indifferent. “When?”

Her eyes landed on the date and she smirked bitterly. “Tomorrow. What a master at planning, your mother.”

“It’s what she’s famous for,” Jess quipped, finally setting his mail back on the coffee table and meeting her eyes again. “You wanna go? There’s no other plans this weekend, right?”

“I don’t know,” Ella shrugged. “Obviously, you could come with. Maybe catch up with Luke or something. He’s probably not doing so hot since everything with Lorelai. I mean...do you want me to go?”

“Not my decision to make,” he said in a clipped tone. He ran a hand over his mouth and peeked down at the invitation. It was pink and glittery. He snorted a bitter laugh. “If you wanna go, I’ll come with.”

“You have no opinion on this?” she asked. “None at all?”

“Nope,” he answered, shaking his head. “No opinion at all.”

She blew a breath out her nose, eyes calculating, as she read the invitation over again and considered the options. Jess didn’t seem thrilled about it, but didn’t seem enraged either. It was nice they had thought of her at all. And Ella had been worrying about Luke in the back of her mind quite a bit as of late. She’d heard through Lane that Lorelai had somehow ended up marrying Rory’s dad, Christopher, in Paris. Besides, Jess spoke with Liz on the phone at least once a month. They weren’t estranged. It would be good, she told herself. Mature.

“Might as well,” she said with finality, adding her own envelopes to the madness on the coffee table. She would have to grab her lone, neat stack later. “Since they remembered to invite me. Feels like I should go.”

Jess nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she echoed, tugging on her earring. “We can take my car. And we’ll have to stop and get a gift on the way, I guess. But the party’s not until four, so we can definitely swing it. I guess you’ll have to hang out at Luke’s or something while I go?”

“Sure,” Jess said, aloof. “I’ll call him later and let him know we’re coming. We should probably stay with him. There’s no telling what kind of state Liz and TJ’s house is in.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a wise choice.”

“Agreed.” He ran an anxious hand through his hair and straightened up slightly, then seemed to lose some of the tension in his shoulders. The small smirk reappeared on his lips. “But, in the meantime, you wanna finish what we started?”

Ella grinned wickedly and grabbed his hand, leading him towards the bedroom door. “No time like the present.”

.   .   .

Usually, when Jess emerged from a nightmare, a big gasp brought him immediately back to reality. He would jolt physically as soon as his eyes flew open. But, this time, he found he couldn’t get quite as much of the dry central heating air as he needed when he reentered the waking world. His chest felt tight, as it often did in a bad dream’s aftermath, but his throat also felt impossibly small. His breathing came in short gasps. His heart beat hard against his ribs, making him feel almost nauseous. Though he was sticky with sweat, shivers rolled through his body, making his hands tremble. And for just one moment, he feared he was so lightheaded he would pass out.

Ella didn’t feel his movements so much as hear his shuffling around. When she cracked her eyes open, and blinked away the first few seconds of blurriness, she found him leaning up against the wall behind the bed. His eyes were wide and terrified, and he couldn’t control his breathing despite the hand he held desperately to his chest.

“Whoa, hey, Jess,” she murmured softly.

Sitting up, she immediately went to bring a hand to his shoulder, but he flinched away from her.

“I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, okay?” she told him.

He nodded weakly.

Worry crept up her throat, but she did her best to keep her voice calm. She had seen shades of the same reaction each time he had a nightmare, but it had never been quite so extreme. His pupils had never been blown-out, as she could see in the grayish light of the early morning, and he had never had trouble breathing before.

“What do you need?” she asked, trying to get him to meet her gaze. When he finally did, she could see tears just about to spill over.

“Elle, I...I don’t…” He struggled for words, panting.

“Alright, that’s fine,” she whispered. “It’s fine if you don’t know. Everything is fine, Jess. But let’s just breathe, alright? Breathe with me.”

She took a long, loud breath in through her nose, then let it out through her mouth.

“Do it with me, James Dean. In and out, huh?” she said.

Though he raised a doubtful eyebrow, eventually, he did as she instructed. His hands almost felt numb, pins and needles, but they stopped shaking after a few minutes of slow breaths. He grabbed her hand in his own, squeezing tightly. He wondered instantly why he had withdrawn from her before. The feeling of her skin against his did perhaps more to soothe him than the breathing did.

She offered a tiny smile as he interlaced their fingers, and squeezed back. “Good job, Jess. Everything’s fine. I’m right here.”

Again, he nodded, more emphatically. There were glistening tear tracks running down his cheeks. He sniffled as his breathing became regular again, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip to maintain whatever semblance of control he could.

“You okay?” she asked, watching his muscles begin to ease up.

Releasing her hand, Jess averted his gaze and felt a blush heat his skin. “Yeah. Yeah. Fine.”

Ella said nothing more, instead gently laying him back down. She tugged the covers over them again, though she knew the alarm would probably go off in less than an hour or two. She brought his head to her chest, running her fingers through his hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Wiping some of the dampness from his face with her thumb, she rubbed her free hand up and down over his back.

“One of those dreams, cutie?” she asked quietly.

He hummed in confirmation.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” he said, and she thought she heard his voice becoming watery again.

“Okay,” she replied, soft but resolute. It was the response she had expected, but it seemed worth asking for such an acute reaction.

A calm, comfortable silence passed between them. Outside, the birds were chirping, and the traffic noise had already started. Slats of light snuck through the closed blinds and cast white strips over the gray comforter. Reaching over, Jess began to trace a fingertip over the tattoo on the inside of her left forearm. He did it often with her body art, after having watched her run her hands over her sketches so many times.

“Remind me about this one,” he said softly.

She smiled. He’d asked her more than once after a nightmare. She only had two tattoos so far, though she had plans for a third. Quality meant money, and she was still saving up. Sometimes he asked about the one on her leg, an antique bird cage with an open door. Neither of her tattoos had any color, drawn in a delicate, shaded style by an artist in New Haven. She was talented, and Gil knew her through his sandwich shop connections. She was still apprenticing, making sandwiches to get by before she could open her own shop or get permanently hired at one.

The birdcage had actually been Lane’s idea, after Ella moved in with her. Partially inspired by Keats’s odes, Ella had thought of getting a simple bird tattoo. She’d mentioned it to Lane, who lit up immediately at the mention of a rebellious act, and suggested something a bit different. The metaphor was clear, the tattoo was beautiful. The experience was better than she thought it would be, and she’d gone back for her second only a few months later, on Mother’s Day.

As much as Ella loved the birdcage, the tulip on her arm was her favorite. By the same artist, it had the same style. It was delicate, the bloom near the crook of her elbow and the stem tapering off and disappearing gracefully a little above her wrist.

“When I was a kid,” she began, “my mother had a kickass garden. I always wanted to help her, planting and watering and everything. But, as we all know, I kill everything except cactuses. She gave me a bunch of tulip seeds for my birthday once, and I made them my project. Got some books about flowers from the library, and everything. Only one ended up growing, anyway. But I was proud of it. And my mom was proud of me. And now I remember every time I look at my arm.”

Jess could feel the vibrations of Ella’s raspy voice in her chest, his ear pressed against her t-shirt as he listened. His eyes were getting heavy again, his body stressed from the rude awakening. It made him feel silly, but it had always so easily put him back to sleep. Not having to talk. Just listening to her.

“Pretty sentimental of you, Stevens,” he joked.

She chuckled. “Hypocrite. Love at first sight much?”

“Who am I to deny a law of the universe? Not like I could help it. I saw you and it was done,” he argued impassively.

“Guess I’m just irresistible,” she teased.

“Seems that way.”

Her own eyes fluttered shut. She was warm but not uncomfortable. Cozy, she supposed, was the word for it. Jess on her right side, with his head on her chest, seconds away from snoring.

“Hey, I do love you, Mariano.”

One corner of Jess’s mouth quirked up in a lazy smile, as he dozed despite the uneasiness and embarrassment still sitting in his stomach. “I know, Stevens. Love you back.”

.   .   .

Humming along with the CD, Ella cast nervous glances Jess’s way. His scowl was near permanent as he stared out the window at the passing scenery. The breeze was frigid as the sun beat down on the Connecticut streets. They were only five minutes away from Liz and TJ’s house, and Ella felt far less nostalgia than she was expecting. Fiona and Adam both had plans for the day, and said they simply couldn’t carve out the time to see her. Not one minute. Adam had some project he was spending the weekend at a friend’s house to finish. And Fiona had hair appointments booked solid. Ella knew it was naive to think they would fit in time for her on such a spur of the moment visit, but the disappointment remained. Stars Hollow didn’t look the same to her, feel the same to her, no matter how identical it seemed. Colorful decorations popped up on the sidewalks and there was a banner for some random town holiday above Taylor’s store. She didn’t bother to read it; next weekend was Valentine’s Day and she knew whatever the town was currently celebrating would just be an excuse to drum up business for the actual calendar event. As soon as “Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters” ended, she pulled her station wagon over to the side, outside Liz and TJ’s modest ranch-style, adorned with lawn ornaments and wind chimes and other kitschy decorations. A bunch of pink balloons streamed from where they were tied to the mailbox, which was shaped like a fish.

“Okay. Out with it,” she said, turning to him just as she pulled the parking brake.

Jess faced her, furrowing his brows. “What?”

“What’s with you?” Ella asked. “You always sing along to Elton John. At least, when it’s just the two of us you do. ‘Mona Lisa and Mad Hatters’ is your favorite. You’re not singing so...what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jess said shortly, arms crossed over his flannel.

Ella blew her curtain bangs from her eyes in frustration, the rest of her locks pulled back in a low bun. She pulled the keys from the ignition. “Can we just skip this whole denial part and get to the part where you tell me what’s going on with you?”

“This isn’t the denial part,” Jess said, rolling his eyes. “This is the part where I tell you nothing is wrong because nothing is wrong. Two different parts entirely.”

“I asked you if you still wanted to come after everything that happened last night. And you said, and I quote: ‘Yes.’ And you didn’t want to talk about it, which is totally fine. But you seemed so out of it this morning, and-”

“This isn’t about last night,” he interrupted, a defensive bite in his voice. His muscles were tense.

“Alright,” she nodded, eyebrows raised. “Then what the hell is it about?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“I think you might be a worse liar than me,” she mused peevishly. “Just give it up, Mariano. What is wrong?”

“The third degree is getting a little old, Nancy Drew,” he shot back, raising his voice slightly.

She spoke with her hands, a small, bitter, sarcastic smirk on her face. “You know what I think is getting old? The Holden fucking Caulfield act, which I haven’t seen in, like, three years. Now, you obviously don’t wanna be here, jackass. You obviously didn’t want me to go to this thing. Which you could’ve mentioned about two hundred miles ago. But I guess I wasn’t worthy of that courtesy. I’m only your girlfriend and your best friend, but who am I kidding? There’s no one on the planet who could possibly be privy to the thoughts of tortured genius, Jess Mariano! Excuse me!”

Grabbing the present and her purse from the backseat and shutting the driver’s side door behind her harshly, she began trudging up the cobblestone path to the house.

Jess sighed heavily as he got out of the car and leaned against the passenger side. He watched as Ella stopped abruptly and turned on her heel, fire in her hazel eyes as she doubled back and held the keys out to him.

“For you, Caulfield. Avoid the phonies on your way. I hear they tend to jaywalk,” she snapped as he took the keys.

“You’re so fucking hilarious,” he retorted, eyes narrowed.

“And you are so fucking annoying,” she shouted over her shoulder as she neared the front door.

“Right back at ya, Stevens!”

Jess ran a hand over his mouth as he saw Liz come out to meet Ella, enveloping her in a warm, cheerful hug. Her baby bump was round and visible from the street, and she offered her son a wave from the distance. He returned it begrudgingly. Feeling his stomach do a flip, his eyes followed Ella as she vanished into the house and didn’t turn back for a final look at him.

.   .   .

Evening had darkened to a deep, silky blue outside. The air was icy and thick with the promise of forthcoming snow. Ella sat on the porch with Miss Patty as she smoked from her long cigarette holder. The day hadn’t been her happiest, but Ella was glad to have a chance to reunite with the best dance teacher on the East Coast. Babette had left earlier, something about a gig for Maury’s jazz group. Carrie, who Ella had recognized as one of the crazy guests from Liz’s bachelorette party upon seeing her face again, was inside with Liz and TJ. And, Ella couldn’t think of anything she wanted to hear less than the story TJ was currently telling of the fight he and Jess had gotten into at a strip club. The father-to-be had shown up halfway through the party to be present when the gifts were opened, wearing an ostentatious Hawaiian shirt, inexplicably.

Ella’s glass was filled with watery orange juice, the ice cubes long since having melted. The drink was tangy, sour, and she had downed at least four of them over the course of the past three hours.

“And I told Marlene I simply couldn’t take her place,” Patty said, words snaking out of her mouth in white clouds. She was draped in velvet shawls and several long necklaces. “But she insisted!”

“I never knew you were a Dietrich stand-in,” Ella said, head buzzing and airy.

Patty nodded, an eyebrow raised suggestively. “I was her stand-in in more ways than one. Rudolf Sieber was a hell of a man.”

Snorting a laugh, Ella half-listened as she leaned over to get a better view of the full moon and the bright stars. She slid right off the porch swing and landed directly on her ass. Bursting out in drunken cackles, she somehow managed to keep the drink gripped in her hand. She gulped up the rest of it, then placed it down on the painted wood floor next to her. Patty laughed along suspiciously.

“Darling, are you alright?”

Ella nodded through her sloppy giggles, licking her lips. “I’m great, Miss Patty. Y’know, I don’t usually like orange juice too much, but I love it tonight. And Liz loved the pajamas we got. I thought the piglets would be better, but Jess insisted we get the sheep. He was right, I guess. It’d be nice if he was so open about more than just his onesie opinions.”

“My dear,” Patty began, stubbing out her cigarette, “that’s not orange juice. That’s a screwdriver.”

“Hm?” Ella asked, looking up at her from her place on the floor with large, glassy eyes.

“A screwdriver. It’s orange juice and vodka,” Patty explained, half-amused and half-concerned. She went and shouted something through the front door to Liz, TJ, Carrie, and the rest of the crowd. Ella said nothing, only looking down in confusion at her empty cup.

Liz appeared next to Patty in a second, both of them coming over and lifting Ella by the upper arms. Smiling widely, Liz gave Ella a hug goodbye. Ella laughed in her grasp, more receptive to the contact than she was when she first got to the shower.

“I had so much fun! Thank you for inviting me!” Ella exclaimed, her voice high and intoxicated.

Grin ever-present, Liz pulled away from Ella and held her by the shoulders. “Aw, thank you for coming. I love the onesie! Patty’s gonna walk you back to my bro’s diner, alright?”

Ella paused for a long, apprehensive moment, then nodded happily. “Okay, sure. Hey, did Carrie give me vodka? Patty said something about vodka. But Carrie said it was orange juice and I couldn’t taste anything else!”

“You’ll be fine, sweetie,” Liz said calmly, then turned Ella back to Patty.

Ella was about to question her further, but she was already being whisked away.

“C’mon, let’s get you back to the diner,” Patty said, pushing Ella forwards by the shoulderblades.

Babbling on about whatever passed through her brain, Ella appreciated the cold air on her flushed skin as they strolled through town on the five-minute walk back to Luke's. At some point, she shed her black peacoat and slung it over her shoulder. There were rosy patches blooming on her chest, exposed in her floral black dress. Her tights had somehow sustained more than one rip and her Doc Martens felt leaden on her feet. The lights of the diner were a beacon against the dark backdrop of town at night. She saw Jess, all broody on a stool at the end of the counter, through the front window.

“Ugh, Jess is such an asshole sometimes,” she muttered, her words thick like molasses.

Patty chuckled, walking her up the concrete steps. “He’s a man, honey. What did you expect?”

The bell over the door jingled jovially. Luke was cleaning up the counter as the Saturday dinner rush died down. The aroma of salt and grease was potent. Finally, the wave of nostalgia hit Ella as she hung her coat and bag by the door. She almost knocked the rack down as Patty’s hands hovered over her form cautiously.

“Yes, everyone, your eyes do not deceive you,” Ella announced. “Luke’s best waitress has returned to her humble beginnings in Stars Hollow.”

At the sound of her voice, Jess turned and his eyes widened. He abandoned his book on the counter and hopped up from the stool. Luke, equally startled, could only stand there with his mouth agape.

“What happened?” Jess asked, rushing over to Ella. His hands went to her waist to guide her, but she swatted him away with a heavy sigh of frustration.

“Get off me, Holden Caulfield,” she mumbled, wobbly on her feet.

“Carrie gave her five screwdrivers. She thought it was orange juice,” Patty said shortly, offering some greetings to the stray customers sitting around and looking on in curiosity. “You got her, Jess? I have a midnight sauna salsa class to set up for.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Patty,” Jess said, taking over for her.

Ella ran right into one of the tables. It screeched across the tile floor, leaving a dark mark. But Jess caught her before she fell on her face. Patty offered Ella a final kiss on the cheek before making her exit.

“Dammit, Crazy Carrie strikes again!” Luke exclaimed. Jess sensed a rant coming. “I never would’ve let her go if I knew that’s who was throwing it!”

“You think you could stop Eleanor Stevens from going anywhere?” Jess asked doubtfully, continuing his failed attempts to direct her.

“Luke, your nephew is a jackass, did you know that? And such a dork,” Ella said, coming behind the counter and learning her elbows on it tiredly. Luke could smell the vodka, strong on her breath. “I mean, he loves broadway. I’m serious. And Elton John. And Nora Ephron. And remember when we were in high school when he got that black eye from-”

Jess finally managed to clamp his hand over Ella’s mouth, as she had been shoving his hands away during the entire diatribe. She was surprisingly strong while drunk, even though she was such a lightweight. Licking his hand, Ella managed to get her mouth free again. She laughed at Jess’s grimace as he wiped his palm on her sleeve, but pressed her back against him nonetheless. She felt some stability returning as he began to support her weight.

“Okay, I think it’s time we get you to bed,” Jess said. His cheeks were flushed and there was crease of concern on his forehead. “Don’t you think so, Luke?”

“Yeah, Ella, the sheets are clean. You guys can take my bed tonight,” Luke said, nodding along as he went over to the cash register.

“But I don’t wanna take your bed. Who are we to take your bed?” Ella argued, as Jess led her back towards the stairs. She stumbled over her words, and swayed as she tried to walk.

“It’s fine, Ella,” Luke insisted warily. “You’ll take the bed.”

“But-”

Jess uttered a long sigh, then hoisted her up bridal-style, fed up with struggling. Groaning dramatically, Ella stiffened for only a moment, then relaxed in his arms. Her head lolled drunkenly against his shoulder.

“Oh, look, my jackass in shining armor,” she spat out, eyes closed.

“Yeah, I’m the fourth horseman of the apocalypse, I know,” he replied, finishing his climb up the stairs and managing to open the door to the apartment with only one hand.

“At least you’re self-aware.”

She was already drifting off, and he set her down atop the soft orange cover on Luke’s double bed. She rolled over onto her side and grabbed a fistful of the sheets sleepily. By the time Jess returned to her with a glass of water and some aspirin, she was beginning to snore. He set the glass and pills on the bedside table.

“Elle? Wake up for just a sec,” he whispered, shaking her shoulder gently.

She gave another petulant moan, but opened her bleary eyes and sat up against the headboard.

“Take these,” he said shortly, giving her the glass and the aspirin.

Shooting him a scornful glare, she knocked them back without a word.

“You want the Led Zeppelin t-shirt or the blue flannel?” he asked, going over to the duffel he’d brought up to the apartment earlier.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling the headache already. “Fuck, I wish I brought the KISS t-shirt. But if I brought it, I would definitely forget it. I can see it already. Led Zeppelin, please.”

He nodded, then came back to the end of the bed and began untying her shoes for her. Her eyes fluttered shut again. The smell of pine in the apartment was old and comforting. The covers were soft against her skin as Jess tugged off her stockings, leaving her legs bare. He swapped them for a pair of plaid pajama shorts, which she actually tried (unsuccessfully) to help him put on.

Suddenly, she began to clutch at the leather cord around her neck. On it, there hung a heavy, blue geode, flat against the exposed skin of her chest. She tried twice to get it off herself, before Jess finished with her shorts and pushed her hands aside. He raised it up and off of her carefully.

“Your mom put that on me. I might’ve given her twenty bucks for it? I don’t remember,” she told him, surly.

Jess cracked a joyless smirk. “How mercenary of her.”

“I wish I wasn’t drunk,” she murmured as he instructed her to raise her arms so he could get her dress and bra off.

“I know,” he replied.

“Being drunk fucking sucks,” she continued as he slipped the worn cotton t-shirt over her head.

“I know,” he repeated. Jess scooted up closer to the head of the bed. “Turn around.”

She did as he said, though not without sulky huff. In measured, delicate movements, he undid her hairdo, taking out the bobby pins and the elastic. He ran his fingers gently through her hair, untangling it.

“Okay. Do you wanna brush your teeth first?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head, burrowing beneath the covers and turning away from him. Swallowing dryly, Jess gave a curt nod and was about to turn and leave when Ella flipped suddenly onto her back.

“Hey, you have to stay on your side in case-”

“I just want you to talk to me,” she interjected, reaching up to stroke his stubbly cheek with her thumb. For a moment, as she continued, he thought he saw the shine of tears in her eyes. “We need to tell each other everything. I’m really fucking worried about you. And I just...I love you and...maybe I was being too aggressive. I don’t know. But I really, really wish I wasn’t drunk and my head hurts and I wish we could go home and-”

“Hey, Eleanor, just go to sleep,” he said softly, taking her hand from his face and running his thumb over the back. She was rambling, eyes red-rimmed, beyond exhausted. Tucking her in tightly, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

Irrational hurt passed over Ella’s face and she scoffed angrily. She faced away from him again, the cold shoulder. “Whatever. Holden fucking Caulfield.”

.   .   .

It was past eleven when Luke finally closed up for the night. He had no place to be, and let Caesar go early. The diner was completely silent as he scrubbed away at smudged surfaces and swept up crumbs. He wished for Lorelai, could picture her at home with Christopher. Around the kitchen table where he used to sit, with Rory and Christopher’s own daughter, Gigi. Luke wondered at it in the back of his mind. Christopher had a daughter, just like him. But he’d made it work. He’d figured it out, and gotten Lorelai in the end. Why hadn’t he been able to? What was wrong with him?

He pushed the thoughts away again, shaking his head. They did no good. What’s done is done, he told himself. Maybe one day he would find someone again. But he had never met anyone who made him feel the way Lorelai did. No one else in the world. He wasn’t optimistic he’d honestly be able to come across true love again. He trudged up the creaky back stairs, his brow heavy with anguish, after shutting off the downstairs lights. Opening the door to the apartment, which still read ‘Williams Hardware’ all these years after his father had died, he was surprised to see Jess at the kitchen table, book in hand. The light over the sink was the only one left on, creating a dim glow.

“Hey,” he said quietly, locking the door behind him, even though the front door of the diner was locked as well.

Jess’s eyes lingered on the page for a moment as he finished a sentence, before he saved his place and looked up. “Hey. You finish closing?”

“Yep,” Luke said, placing his keys down near the door and immediately going to grab a beer from the fridge. He held one out to his nephew. “You want one?”

Not even considering it, Jess shook his head. He tossed a nervous look at Ella, who lay snoring and tangled up in the orange sheets. She was talking nonsense in her sleep, had been for the past two or three hours as Jess attempted to finish his Kesey novel. He was having trouble concentrating.

“No, thanks,” he said. “I think at least one of us should be sober tonight.”

“Suit yourself.”

Luke came to sit beside Jess silently, sipping his Heineken and waiting for whatever story was to come. It was only the second time in his life he had seen Ella drunk, and it was making him feel an odd sense of deja-vu.

“I wanted to help clean up downstairs, but I was worried she would flip over onto her back. I figured I should stay here and...make sure she was okay,” Jess explained, apologetic.

“Don’t worry about it.” Luke shrugged it off dismissively.

“She hates being drunk,” Jess said, eyes still on Ella. “I mean, on her twenty-first birthday, we didn’t even go out. We just watched Goodfellas.”

“Why?” Luke asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Jess smirked. “She said it was a makeshift rite of passage, since she didn’t want to drink. Because they say ‘fuck’ exactly three hundred times.”

“Sounds like her,” Luke said fondly.

“Yeah,” Jess replied, looking down at his lap and breathing a sigh.

“She didn’t seem too happy with you earlier,” Luke said pointedly, eyebrows raised. “Or was that just the booze talking?”

Jess uttered a bitter chuckle. “I’d say a sober woman’s thoughts are a drunk woman’s words, but she sounded pretty much the same level of pissed in the car on the way up here as she did after five screwdrivers.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Jess said, his words a sigh. “I thought I’d be okay with all this. The baby shower and everything. But I got to thinking about it more and more and...I just don’t know. Do you think Liz is ready for another kid?��

Luke paused a moment, appraising Jess’s face. He saw sincere fear in his nephew’s features, taking him slightly aback. “I think so. And TJ’s not the sharpest tool in the shed by any means, but I think he’s even less of a flight risk than your mom. And they live right down the road from me, Jess.”

Jess hummed. “I guess that’s true. I just got to remembering some things about Liz and...Ella could tell something was up. She can always tell. But I guess I didn’t feel like talking.”

Blowing a long breath out through his nose, Luke nodded. “Well, you don’t have to worry about this kid. I promise. I won’t let anything happen.”

“Thanks.”

“And Jess?” Luke began, meeting his nephew’s eyes. “Talk to her. Tell her everything that’s on her mind. There’s no point in hiding things. It’ll drive her crazy, and it’ll drive her away. We’ve had this conversation before. Open two-way communication is-”

“The foundation of love, I know, Dr. Phil,” Jess grumbled, rolling his eyes at the self-help jargon. But, inside, he stored the sentiment away for later. “Old habits, I guess. I’m working on it.”

“Good. That’s all that matters,” Luke said, offering Jess a hopeful smile and finishing off the last of his beer. He tossed it in the recycling and retreated to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Jess ran a hand over his mouth and then rubbed at his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. His dream from the night before flashed across his mind quickly, and he tried to lock the images away. The thought of curling up on the old leather couch made him grimace. He wasn’t eager for a repeat. One more chapter, he told himself. Then he would be ready to try and rest.

.   .   .

Whatever possessed her to wake up at five in the morning on a Sunday, she wasn’t entirely sure. But the pounding headache in her temples probably had something to do with it. Luke was already gone, the twin bed on which Jess had once slept made neatly and left empty. Early morning deliveries perhaps. Or maybe he was getting ready for the brunch crowd. It was his least favorite group of customers, Ella remembered. As she awoke and saw Jess was asleep beneath a throw blanket on the couch, book on the floor next to him, she hopped up from the bed. The weathered hardwood was cold beneath her bare feet, and she wished the room wasn’t quite as awash in morning light. She had to squint against it as she padded over, sitting on the edge of one couch cushion.

“Jess?” she whispered, groggy. She raked her hands through her messy hair and tucked it behind her ears. Goosebumps rose on her arms after having left the warmth of the bed. “Jess?”

He stirred on only the second try, scrunching up his face. He was still dressed in his clothes from the day before. Eventually, his brown eyes were open, and surprised to see her up before him. “Hey, Elle. You okay?”

“Yeah. Why are you on the couch?”

“Oh,” he said, throwing an arm across his eyes and yawning. “You were pretty mad last night. I didn’t know if you’d want me to get in with you.”

She shook her head, a small smile ghosting over her lips. “I always want you sleeping next to me, cutie. Even when I’m mad. I mean, we’ve got sides of the bed now. There’s tradition to maintain.”

“Like you’ve ever cared about tradition,” he chuckled, blinking away the sleep in his field of vision. She looked pale, almost a sickly green, but her eyes were clear once again. And her speech was no longer drunkenly strung together.

“Fair enough,” she replied. “But I wasn’t sleep-in-separate-beds mad. I was just I’m-wasted-and-annoyed mad.”

“How the hell did you not know you were drinking screwdrivers?” he asked, a teasing smirk appearing on his face.

She rolled her eyes, mostly at herself. “I don’t know, Mariano. I don’t ever drink. How am I supposed to know what alcohol tastes like? And I don’t know what the fuck Carrie did to those, but I swear they were a dead ringer for straight orange juice.”

“Whatever you say, Stevens.”

“Shut up,” she quipped with good nature. “Did I try to sing Rumors or anything? I don’t really remember.”

“Mercifully, no,” he said, sitting up against the arm of the couch. “Nothing crazy. You are a bit of a weepy drunk, but who isn’t?”

“Jesus,” she murmured, blushing slightly.

He chuckled half-heartedly, then his face grew more earnest. “Hey, Elle?”

“Hm?”

Pausing to heave a heavy sigh, he raked a hand through his bedhead.

“I didn’t want to come here because of the dream I had,” Jess spit out, before he could lose his nerve. “Nothing specific...just a bunch of stuff from when I was growing up. It just...Liz wasn’t the best mom and I was remembering...a lot. And I was nervous about her…”

“Screwing up that kid’s life?” she asked.

He nodded shyly.

“Okay. I get why you’d be nervous. But she’s with TJ now, and she’s older. And, plus, the day Luke lets anything happen to that baby is the day Coldplay is classified is an alternative band,” Ella said. At some point, she began running her fingers through his hair in reassurance. “I really, really think it’ll be fine.”

“I know. I talked to Luke last night.”

“And you’re feeling better about it?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, feeling a small weight lift from somewhere inside him. “But I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just...I don’t know. I was...scared. It was stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, Jess,” she shook her head, gaze softening. “It makes sense. I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard. I didn’t mean to. You just...you scared me. And I was going insane because I knew something was wrong and...I was just worried about you.”

“I know, Daria,” he said fondly.

“I mean, you had a panic attack, Jess.” Her voice was deep with fatigue, and had pleading quality which struck Jess’s heart. “You couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know if I was gonna be able to help and...maybe you should see someone? My brother’s therapist helped him a lot after my mom.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jess replied, shockingly genuine. Ella didn’t think he would be entertaining the thought of getting help so easily.

“Good.”

“Not like I’ve got the best insurance though.”

Ella sighed. “Yeah. Fucking capitalism.”

“It’s a little early to be going Marxist, I think,” he said, laughing breathily.

“Oh, it’s never too early,” she shot back.

“Duly noted,” Jess replied. Then, after a hesitant pause: “So, we’re fine?”

“Everything’s fine, James Dean,” she said, nodding. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said with a bashful laugh, bowing his head.

Ella’s smile grew at his shyness, and she pressed a brief kiss to his forehead before he lifted his head back up and their lips met. As they pulled away from each other, he placed an affectionate hand on her cheek.

“How’s your head?”

“I’ll survive.”

“I’m glad,” he quipped. “You think you can handle some breakfast?”

“Worth a try.”

“Okay, once Luke opens up, we can head downstairs. Then let’s go home?” he proposed.

“Yeah. Sounds like a plan,” she said, almost wistful. “Let’s go home.”

[fortysevenswrites]

3 and 19 for the fanfic asks 💕

3. Do you prefer canonverse or AUs?

I’m kind of an *insert ‘both is good’ gif here* when it comes to fic, but definitely leaning toward canonverse. I’m a little pickier with my AUs and really need them to be at least grounded in canon, personalities intact.

19. What’s your favorite character headcanon?

Which character hahahahaha? Okay here we go....

Karen Page: Karen hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since before her mother died, but it’s only after she reconciles with Frank and they start talking about their shared traumas that it gets easier. Having Frank in her bed helps too ;-)

Frank Castle: Frank doesn’t actually hate Matt--he respects him as a fighter, but can’t stand his moral code because it’s so opposed to his own “do what needs to be done” mindset. He does not like how Matt treats Karen though. Also, he and Elektra do meet and become murder friends. Karen and Matt both have no idea how to make sense of that.

The Lieberman Family: The reason why Frank didn’t call the Lieberman’s during TPS2 (LIKE HE SHOULD HAVE) is because after David was reunited with his family, he and Sarah made the most of their reunion and they had another baby (a girl named Faye Diza, for both Frank and Dinah), and Frank was not about to put them in danger again, especially not with a baby in the mix. Leo and Zach think it’s SUPER weird that they have a sibling with such a massive age gap, and they choose to ignore the how and why of it all happening—that’s what therapy is for anyway.

Our girl Kim Hart: Even though she doesn’t have her power coin anymore and is technically retired, she can still morph thanks to the Crane powers. She also still heals quicker than a normal person, which seriously helped her gymnastics career. And yeah, she did feel a little bad about it, but not bad enough not to compete.

Tommy Oliver: After reluctantly un-retiring in Dino Thunder, he does go looking for Kim and they rekindle their relationship and live happily ever after.

Tommy & Kim: After Zordon sacrificed himself at the end of the Space season, Tommy calls Kim, the first time they’ve talked in years, and they talk all night. They don’t entirely clear the air, but they do make clear that things would be different if they weren’t living on opposite sides of the country.

The entire Power Rangers in Space team: because they revealed themselves publicly to save the world, they’re the most famous rangers on the planet, and serve as a go-between between PR teams and major media outlets (you can really see me putting my PR hat on for this HC hahaha), especially when a new team comes along.

Ashley Hammond (PRiS): She splits time between Earth and KO35 because she, duh, is dating an actual alien (who is a human, because earth is not the only place humans live)

Astronema/Karone (PRiS/PRLG): After her tenure as the pink ranger in LG, she goes back to traversing the galaxy, using her sorcery powers for good (also, her abilities as a sorceress were not tied to her being evil) and there are MANY a crisis that she has stopped in its tracks before it could get as bad as the situations the Power Rangers have to take care of.

Cassie Chan: After the Space season, Cassie serves as Earth’s ambassador to the other planets in the system, which she does yes, because someone with space experience needs to do it (and Ashley’s too busy vacationing with her boyfriend on KO-35 and the other rangers are heavily involved with Earth’s recover), but also because it’s the only way she can think of to track down a wayward Phantom Ranger--who she ultimately does find, and they live happily ever after, splitting time between Earth and a recovering Eltar.

Y’all...I have SO many Power Rangers HCs

And because I recently finished From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series and have some Geckos and Fullers on the brain...

Kate Fuller: Even though she wasn’t in control of her body when she was possessed by Amaru, she still retains Amaru’s sword-fighting skills (which, let’s be real, Seth is a BIG fan of) and her ability to sense Culebras when they’re nearby. She also doesn’t even bother with the guest room they set up for her when they get back to base at Jacknife Jed’s, and crashes with Seth in his room. It’s platonic at first, but they both can’t sleep without knowing the other is nearby since they both have terrible nightmares about the other dying—also since Seth wasn’t there when she did die, he has nightmares that embellish on what really happened, and since Amaru tried to drain Seth’s soul, Kate sees those nightmares too.

Seth Gecko: Seth feels like he SHOULD feel like it’s weird that Kate is sleeping in his bed especially after everything that happened leading up to them parting ways in Mexico, but then he remembers that he doesn’t give a fuck about what it may or may not look like, and having her in arm’s reach is better than any alternative (like her sleeping two rooms down, or her leaving with her brother after Matanzas, or you know, not being alive anymore, period). Also, Seth has bad anxiety, pretty much ALL the time, and it takes a while for him to reconcile the fact that his real life actually is one where he gets to rob banks and run a criminal empire with Kate AND Richie together, and it’s not like, a really awesome dream or something.

Richie Gecko: Richie LOVES picking up new and random skills from the people he feeds off of, including sleight of hand, how to throw a perfect spiral with a football, and accounting, so he can handle the books for both the legal and extra-legal sides of their enterprises. He also is the only one to work out of the lower levels at Jed’s because Kate refuses to go anywhere near Malvado’s old offices, and Seth doesn’t like being down there because it makes him think about how he got screwed over by Sonja and Kisa almost died.

Kisa: Kisa ultimately decides to embrace her role as La Diosa, and travels the country helping Culebras find their way. She sends the most wayward ones she finds to the Geckos, which Richie appreciates and Seth does, but refuses to admit it, because she and Seth have built up a semi-antagonistic understanding, where they don’t LIKE each other, but they appreciate the others’ skills. Sometimes she does creep in on his dreams to make sure he’s treating Kate right, which he is NOT a fan of at all, and usually leads to Seth yelling at Richie, demanding that he call her and tell her off. Of course, that gives her the chance to catch up with Richie, which is exactly what she wanted. She and Richie do eventually get back together, once they’ve both grown up a little bit and grown into their new lives.

Send me a fic ask

[thebrochtuarachs]

If they want me (a fan) to talk about it, I’ll talk about it.

Outlander S4 PR has been doing so well until this (IMHO).

My take on some Q&A from Cait’s Parade article. 

It’s 3AM where I am and there will be grammatical errors on this but I had to let it out. 

Really lengthy, snark, rant ahead. You’ve been warned. ✌🏻😊 Feel free to pass if not your cup of tea. I mean, I probably wrote a bunch of woozy anyway. But this is my space and yeah, haha! 

1. What’s with the title?

Yeah, Sam’s name just had to be inserted somewhere here to make it clickable, sure. I don’t know if the motivation for “total opposite” was to show “how different Sam and Cait are” or “how Sam and Cait will never be” - but all I know is...opposites attract. If it meant to hurt shippers, well, were just getting started here. 

But seriously - If I get a chance to chat with Caitriona Balfe about season 4 scoop, I’d prefer that instead of talking about fans and using the name of her supposed platonic co-star to speculate some clickbait on the article. If the latter was the goal, they probably succeeded a bit cause here am I writing this loooong post. 

2. A great mystery - Who is Maestro? 

First of all, Caitriona is NOT newly engaged - ITS ALMOST BEEN A YEAR. Second, I am yet again confused as to the nationality and job of the great maestro. I asked this once in my blog and an anon came through with a thorough explanation of Maestro’s “history” but I guess I’ll just go back to “NEVER being sure who he really is” again. 

3. Oh, I grew up watching car races and now I’m in a racing movie!

I get the PR - Cait grew up watching car racing and now she’s in a car racing movie, what a way to come round full circle. 

But I’ve read a couple of articles from Cait about her life in Ireland before and never have I seen before that she’s mentioned that watching car races was part of their family tradition holidays up until now. (or is there? I may be wrong. I’m not sure, could be. Some other people can share it, if there is) But nonetheless, true or not, it works well with the PR. 

Also, Cait, I know a guy (Sam) who goes and watches F1 races from the paddocks. Why don’t you guys drop by sometime and you know, watch together? *wink wink* It’ll be good for research and stuff. Not to mention going out with one of your best mate, am I right? ✌🏻

4. I spend the weekends by myself - as shown in the way this statement is filled with singular pronouns

She drags herself alone to go out for some food, She reads alone, she walks alone, she prepares her own food and putters around the house. (I am my own, independent person regardless of my “soon-to-be hitched” status)

Okay, the way I see this - she really doesn’t want to be defined who she’s in a relationship with or who she’s engaged with. Look how independent the statement above is. I get it - she wants to be known more as “an actress” and not as an “engaged and extremely in love with my fiancé actress”. 

Basically it kinda says “sometimes forget I’m engaged at all except when Sam and I are being too touchy-feely with each other.” 

But seriously, Cait, not screaming/vibing engaged here! Meaning saying his actual name and weaving your relationship in the public face, inviting him to pose with you in red carpets and events despite his “shy” stature, etc. Erm, maybe just don’t be engaged at all and don’t get married yet - I didn’t say break it up or anything, just straighten the confusing narrative first? 

5. I am not exactly like Claire but Sam, my co-star only, will be the first one to disagree.

Why do I feel like “and the other people who know me very well” line got added after a pause cause Sam got mentioned and she cannot mention only Sam because fans will suspect. Hahaha! (And suspect we well cause isn’t that the purpose of this article?)

Also, but why not “Tony, my fiance, will be first to disagree because he knows me so well” rather than her “were super platonic only” co-star? 

Oh, cause of the narrative. 

Which narrative again? I am getting confused now. 

Oh, the one where Sam Heughan is just her friend who loves her and knows her so well. 

Great. 

6. SINCE SAM GOT MENTIONED THE QUESTION BEFORE ITS ONLY NATURAL WE TALK ABOUT HIM...

OMG, my English grammar mind is like screaching those dangling modifiers. “Sam Heughan, who plays your soul mate...” HAHAHAHAHA! That’s the first thing that I noticed. Second, the question would be much clearer if phrased “Are you good friends with Sam Heughan, who plays Jamie Fraser, your character’s soul mate?” - SEE  sentence construction HERE, we would be talking about the show and its characters and not see anything else. But then, this is just me.

Also, why ask Cait if she’s good friends with Sam? Of course she is! (and I truly believe this regardless of whatever situation they chose). Other wise, if she says “no”, just imagine the PR nightmare it would entail. The repercussions, the bad PR from tabloids how the two leads “don’t get along”, the possibility of not getting renewed after season 6, a lot of bad will follow if she said the wrong answer. Hahahaha! Either this or the writer (don't know his history with OL) is super new to the fandom who don’t have an idea just how close Sam and Cait are.

Oh goody, we get the Hyde Park walk mentioned again! I always love this memory of theirs.

Comment on Paragraph 1: Why do I feel like Cait got caught off guard rehashing this story. The answer, if verbatim, is so jumpy and incoherent. Like I could summarise the story in shorter sentences. Eitherway, I’ve always loved that they spent the time together at the beginning and realised just how much of a relationship they were going to have. Also, the line” Who knows what this is going to be?” which they asked even before they started filming - so loaded the possibilities of the meaning of this simple question. 

Comment on Paragraph 2: Shouldn’t it be maestro’s job to be her biggest supporter, the first person she calls to have talking to about stress? Also, love the “vice versa”. Sometimes, I can’t imagine Sam being the stressed one between the two of them but I just love their dynamic. OH AND THEY HAVE SIMILAR PERSONALITY TRAITS (where is the complete opposite part?! (*see next question*, here we go)

7. HOW TO DESCRIBE BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP 101

Here it is....how opposite Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe are that it’s impossible to think of them ever being in a relationship. 

Cait is bullish and Sam calms her down before she gets too frustrated. 

Sam is a little passive and Cait gives him a nudge and a strength to stand up for something. 

OH WAIT

Erm, what you guys just described about each other is “being in a good, healthy relationship” - thanks, bye. Again...opposites attract. The statements just show that they’re both not as strong as one seem and really feed off strength from each other’s lives and company. Like, you know, being together or something to that effect. 

Also, if you guys, Sam and Cait, are dropping the fake narrative soon, you know - Cait can nudge Sam to stand up for them and publicise their “real”  relationship and then when the reality of their “real score” being revealed gets too frustrated, Sam just can calm Cait down. It’s honestly, a win-win, guys. 

8. ONTO THE “BEST FANS EVER”

This question was actually fine until the follow up...

9. WAS ASKING THIS QUESTION FREAKING NECESSARY?

I think I’ve mentioned this before but IF PR WANTS TO STAY AWAY FROM FANS TALKING ABOUT SAMCAIT, then they have to stop allowing these kind of questions. They could’ve asked the author to not include this question in the publishing because what is the freaking point. If the writer have done his research, he already knows the answer to this (heck we know from various and numeous sources). And if he knew the climate of the fandom, this should not have been asked published - yet again.  I’m sure Sam and Cait hate answering these questions because, lets admit it, it takes away some of the magic. But here it is and there again is their punchline and I’ve seen this same answer as before. 

But Cait had to add something new: “But I think things are pretty clear now that I'm engaged to someone else. Everyone gets it now” HMMMMMMMMM...So was the purpose of the engagement to put off the stench and speculation that Sam and you aren’t together? That the main purpose was for all shippers to stop shipping you and Sam cause you’re engaged some someone else whose name you’ve yet to mention yourself in public or social media and your fans have no total idea who he is and what he does for a living? 

Oh and uhh, Cait - NOT EVERYONE GETS IT NOW. If anything, were all the more confused. Also, regardless of what you guys do, you can never ever avoid the shipping (real or show) cause that’s just fanning is. Oh, and you’re not the first and only ship with OTP that have spouses. Seriously, you’re not the first nor the only experiencing this and the other fandoms have actually embraced this instead of trying so hard to shut it down. 

9. REHASHING SEMI-FAMOUS FANDOM HISTORY

Seriously. 

If the author had done his/her research, these are semi-famous stories already from before and he could’ve asked about book 4 or season 4 or anything RECENT that would make sense why this article was even written in the first place. 

I just think it’s a missed opportunity to ask something else, something new. Meh. 

10. Cait’s Faves

Maybe it should be Cait’s current fave things.

TSWDM as her favorite movie? I mean no offence to TSWDM but considering how deep her book choices are, I thought she’d choose a “deep, serious” movie as her favorite but choosing her “platonic” co-stars recent comedy flick as her choice (maybe in support of them having each other’s backs, you know) she chose that one - or maybe she really, really loved the movie too. 

Race Car Documentaries - lets push the PR for her upcoming movie, yes!! 

The Fiery Cross - EARLY PROMO FOR NEXT SEASON!!

Yeah, so I wouldn’t assume this is Cait’s “all-time” faves... 

-

SO, WHY DID I DO THIS?!

BECAUSE I THOUGHT I’D FIND A POINT ABOUT THIS ARTCLE AND NOT SOME OBVIOUS HIDDEN AGENDA BEHIND IT?

WHAT EXACTLY WAS THE POINT OF THIS ARTICLE? WHY DID IT NOT TALK ABOUT OUTLANDER OR SEASON 4 AT ALL INSTEAD OF FANS AND NARRATIVES?

WHAT IS THIS PUBLICITY ALL ABOUT?

TO REITERATE THE “THEY’RE NOT TOGETHER” NARRATIVE CAUSE THE “SHE’S ENGAGED TO ANOTHER GUY” WASN’T ENOUGH OR DIDN’T WORK? TO PROVE JUST HOW WEIRD SOME CORNER OF THE FANDOM IS (as per the writing of this lengthy, rant post)

SERIOUSLY. I AM FLARING.

BECAUSE ALL THESE IS IRRELEVANT TO THE PROMOTION OF OUTLANDER SEASON 4 AND IT IRKS ME THAT THEY HAD OR TRYING TO PUT SHIPPER FANS IN, YET AGAIN, A BAD LIGHT, WHEN WE’RE TRYING TO STAY IN OUR LANE FOR MOST OF THE YEAR AND MAKING SENSE OF WHAT’S GOING ON. 

IS THIS WHAT THEY WANTED? FANS TALKING AROUND HOW IRRELEVANT THESE THINGS ARE? OR SPECULATE HOW WEIRD OR AMBIGUOUS EACH ANSWER IS?! 

Oh, Lordy. 

COME ON, PR.

SELL YOUR SHOW. 

NOT THE “NOT IN A RELATIONSHIP”. 

NOT THE “BEST FANS EVER”.

NOT THE “DELUSIONAL” FANS WHO NOW FINALLY “GETS IT”. (cause, as per this article, we still don’t)

SELL YOUR SHOW AND WHAT IT’S ABOUT - JAMIE AND CLAIRE FRASER.

BECAUSE ALL I WANT IS OUTLANDER SEASON 4 COVERAGE. 

TALK ABOUT CLAIRE AND JAMIE. TALK ABOUT BREE. TALK ABOUT THE BOOK. TALK ABOUT THE RIDGE. TALK ABOUT THEIR CHARACTER’S AND BOOK’S LIFE. 

SUCH A WASTE OF SPACE AND TIME AND ALL FOR WHAT?

TO IRK SHIPPY FANS TO MORE EYE-ROLLING MOMENTS?

TO GET RID OF THE 20 SHIPPERS REMAINING?

CAUSE GUESS WHAT OUTLANDER/STARZ PR?

THE (RESPECTFUL) SHIPPING WILL NEVER STOP EVEN IF CAIT AND SAM ARE MARRIED - EITHER TO EACH OTHER OR OTHER PEOPLE.

THAT’S JUST HOW IT IS AND HOW ITS GOING TO BE CAUSE THAT IS FANDOM AND THAT IS SHIPPING.

SO, JUST FOCUS ON SELLING THE SHOW AND WHAT ITS REALLY ALL ABOUT.

JAMIE AND CLAIRE FRASER.

NOTHING MORE. NOTHING LESS. 

Thanks. 

*end of caps lock writing*

It’s 4AM and I’m going to sleep. 

-

Updating this the following day after reading some comments and theories as to why this ever seen the light of day: 

1. Could this be a follow up “aggressive shipper” article by EW?! A ploy put into place by Sony/Starz to, yet again, attack the “shipping” community? 

IT COULD VERY WELL BE. WHY ELSE PUT UP THIS NONSENSE OF AN ARTICLE THAT DOESN’T PROMOTE THE SHOW ONE BIT. 

Like to control shippers yet again after the love fest the past two weeks at cons? To control shippers after releasing S4 promo photos of Jamie and Claire?

I mean if they put this same effort in shutting “shippers” down to promoting their show, they might increase their ratings and subscribers!! UGH. 

2. Could Caitriona be that Caitriona did NOT actually say some of the things said? 

Possibly. I mean, now that I think about it, some statements were contradictory to what she’s said before and the language seems a little too forward that she usually is (e.g. “But I think it’s pretty clear now. I’m engaged now so everyone gets it”). Yeah, maybe it doesn’t feel like Cait saying this - cause I think she knows it’s NEVER clear but - yeah, could be. Could be that the this article was written deliberately to counter the “aggressive shipping” happening since the cons and using Cait’s “engagement” was their weapon of choice this time. 

[2whatcom-blog]

Why It is Tough to Maintain Your Job If You Have Rheumatoid Arthritis

The painful situation can restrict an individual's productiveness, power them to take day off, and even trigger them to depart a job. Discovering -- and protecting -- a job that works inside the limitations imposed by rheumatoid arthritis could be a problem for many individuals who stay with the painful illness. One current examine reported that almost one-third of individuals with rheumatoid arthritis (RA) needed to stop working inside 5 years of their analysis. On this examine, practically half of the sufferers with RA held paying jobs on the onset. On the finish of 5 years, 60 p.c had been nonetheless working whereas 29 p.c had stop resulting from their RA signs. One other 9 p.c had left work for different causes. The researchers famous that individuals with RA holding guide jobs had been on the most danger for RA-related work incapacity. This is not the primary examine that has come to those conclusions. A 2012 examine within the journal Mayo Clinic Proceedings reported that 1 of 5 folks with RA is not working two years after being identified and 1 in three folks dwelling with RA leaves the workforce after 5 years. One other from 2012 advised that juvenile rheumatoid arthritis sufferers had an excellent more durable time discovering and protecting employment than their older counterparts resulting from lack of employment historical past and an earlier illness onset.

The impression on working folks

The problem of working with RA is such a widespread drawback that EULAR (the European League In opposition to Rheumatism) has an ongoing Well being Professionals Undertaking dedicated to growing work participation for folks with RA throughout Europe. The group and the Arthritis Basis have each held occasions and put out public service bulletins with the theme of protecting folks with RA actively working. The impression that RA has on the profession and professional life is doubtlessly severe. A 2010 examine confirmed that individuals dwelling with RA are at the least 53 p.c much less prone to work than the overall inhabitants. The Arthritis Basis web site states that "A 2015 study in the Journal of Occupational and Environmental Medicine found that people with RA missed nearly 14 workdays a year, compared to fewer than 10 days in people who didn't have the condition. Those missed workdays added up to nearly $252 million in lost revenues nationally. Even if you're able to work, RA symptoms can affect your productivity -- a phenomenon known as presenteeism." This is because of a wide range of components. Usually, the ache, fatigue, and drugs unintended effects that come together with RA could be unpredictable. Some days, an individual dwelling with RA might be able to work, train, and be productive. Different days, the identical particular person could battle with on a regular basis duties, lack of sleep, debilitating ache, disabling stiffness, joint swelling, or drug unintended effects akin to nausea, headache, lightheadedness, and drowsiness. Folks dwelling with RA and comparable circumstances may additionally expertise different signs akin to mind fog or cognitive sluggishness, muscle spasms, flu-like signs, common malaise, and discomfort. The ache and joint immobility related to RA can be extreme. Relying on the affected joints, an worker could face limitations with typing, sitting, or standing for prolonged durations of time, crouching down, bending, driving, writing, and lifting objects. Some folks with RA could have their vocal chords impacted, additional limiting their profession decisions or on-the-job expertise.

What to confide in employers

Whether or not or to not disclose RA to an employer is a difficult state of affairs to navigate. In some situations, if an worker is ready to get by with out bringing consideration to their incapacity initially, they might be higher off so they do not entice undesirable consideration. Repeated absences from RA or poor on-the-job efficiency due to the situation can result in the firing of individuals with RA or forestall them from getting promotions. Underneath the ADA (Individuals with Incapacity Act) and FMLA (Household Medical Depart Act) legal guidelines, present or future employers can't discriminate towards an worker who lives with a medical situation or incapacity. However that may typically be a tough factor to show.

What you may ask for

Underneath the legislation, makes an attempt at cheap office lodging have to be made if requested by a qualifying disabled worker. Folks with a continual sickness or severe well being situation akin to RA can take as much as three months unpaid medical go away per yr if they're unable to work due to their well being. Examples of office lodging for arthritis sufferers would possibly embody an ergonomic desk chair, ergonomic keyboard, dictation software program, talk-to-type capabilities on a pc, further breaks to stretch, a sit-stand desk, and lumbar cushions. As well as, folks with arthritis may also request day off for medical appointments, the choice to telecommute when potential, versatile hours, a versatile wardrobe, typing gloves, a detailed parking spot, and ice packs out there within the break room. An occupational therapist or bodily therapist may additionally be capable to supply further strategies to RA sufferers or their employers in the case of office modifications and lodging.

Making use of for advantages

Some employers may additionally supply momentary or everlasting incapacity to workers who grow to be sick or injured whereas working. The Social Safety Administration's SSDI (Social Safety Incapacity Insurance coverage) program is another choice for at any time when an individual with RA can't proceed working. Getting permitted for incapacity advantages is just not simple, although. Usually, the worker with RA should have a interval of not working in any respect (learn: no earnings) for an prolonged time frame so as to be permitted. Consultants counsel hiring an legal professional who makes a speciality of workman's compensation and SSDI/incapacity to assist expedite the method and higher an individual's probabilities of being permitted. Nonetheless, as soon as an RA affected person is not working and is gathering incapacity funds, strict guidelines fall into place relating to earned earnings, scholar loans, and different gadgets. The nonprofit well being group Creaky Joints has some assets for folks with RA who're contemplating making use of for incapacity advantages by the federal government. Underneath a proposal being thought-about by the Trump administration, the social media accounts of disabled individuals shall be monitored for posts that painting them as trying like they don't seem to be disabled. Rheumatoid arthritis, whereas usually debilitating and painful could be unpredictable and invisible, making it tough to "prove" that you're disabled to somebody surveying social media photographs.

How some employees cope

Many individuals with RA select to attempt to maintain working so long as potential and maintain their situation largely below wraps at any time when they'll. "I have told some friends at work about my RA and fibro, but not many. My boss knows about it, but only to an extent," Jennifer Smith, 29, a Pennsylvania resident who has had RA for 4 years and fibromyalgia for seven years, advised Healthline. "I haven't had to ask for accommodations yet and feel embarrassed to ask anyway. I don't think I'd be treated any differently, but you never know. I've heard and read some horror stories from other RA patients when it comes to their jobs and employers. Some people with a chronic illness are treated horribly. And going on disability seems like a nightmare, although I know it might be my only option someday." Smith added she'd actually have to consider it when the time got here to stop working -- one thing that she feels is inevitable when trying on the journey of fellow sufferers on-line. What Smith and people dwelling with RA ought to remember when making use of for or switching jobs is the kind of profession they select. Whereas training and professional coaching could also be limiting components, there are particular jobs which can be higher for individuals who have RA. Truck drivers and schoolteachers usually not an excellent alternative for RA sufferers, Neither are manufacturing unit or warehouse employees. Jobs that permit for versatile hours, telecommuting, and low stress are sometimes higher decisions for folks with RA. So are freelance and part-time work that does not contain quite a lot of lifting, bending, crouching, or an excessive amount of typing with out dictation software program or laptop ergonomics. Healthline has written about the perfect and worst jobs for RA, in addition to jobs that carry with them the next danger for RA (first responders is one instance of many). There's additionally the general financial burden and impression of the illness. Some states supply providers akin to an Occupational Vocational Rehabilitation unit that helps disabled folks discover work. The SSDI's Ticket to Work program additionally permits folks on incapacity to return to work and check if they can start working once more. "According to the CDC, arthritis and other rheumatic conditions are among the leading causes of work disability for adults in the U.S.," Hazel L. Breland, PhD, OTR/L, FAOTA, CLA, president of the Affiliation of Rheumatology Professionals, advised Healthline. "As a member of the inter-professional rheumatology team, occupational therapists work with people living with RA to address their difficulty with activities of daily living (i.e., self-care of one's body), instrumental activities of daily living (i.e., activities within the home and community) and work-related concerns. Individuals with RA most often seek effective OT strategies to help manage their overall function to do what they need and want to do, joint protection, fatigue, coping with changes to their work productivity." The American Faculty of Rheumatology additionally gives assets for people who find themselves on the lookout for work whereas dwelling with RA. If you're experiencing discrimination on the job due to your RA, it's possible you'll file a grievance with the Equal Employment Alternative Fee, right here. Read the full article

[reilovely-blog]

To The One Who Loves Him Next

"To the one who loves him next:

This isn’t a letter telling you to fuck right off because he’s mine, or anything as ridiculous as that- no, it’s almost the opposite in fact. It may be weird to be receiving this letter from me, as the previous person who loved him- and it is, no doubt, but this is written straight from the heart of a person who only wants the best for him; who only wants him to find his happiness.

I’m sure you do too.

First off, I hope that you know how lucky you are to be able to call him yours; I hope you realize what a privilege it is to have his love. He’s the most wonderful, caring, loving, absolutely perfect boyfriend one could ever have; but you probably already know that.

What you may not realize is how much you’ll come to depend on him- how much he’ll take over your thoughts, your life, your time, till there’s nothing else (and no one else) that seems to matter but him.

Nothing does. No one does. "

~

To the one who loves him next:

This isn’t a letter telling you to fuck right off because he’s mine, or anything as ridiculous as that- no, it’s almost the opposite in fact.

It may be weird to be receiving this letter from me, as the previous person who loved him- and it is, no doubt, but this is written straight from the heart of a person who only wants the best for him; who only wants him to find his happiness.

I’m sure you do too.

First off, I hope that you know how lucky you are to be able to call him yours; I hope you realize what a privilege it is to have his love. He’s the most wonderful, caring, loving, absolutely perfect boyfriend one could ever have; but you probably already know that.

What you may not realize is how much you’ll come to depend on him- how much he’ll take over your thoughts, your life, your time, till there’s nothing else (and no one else) that seems to matter but him.

Nothing does. No one does.

He’s always the most important- He should always be your number one priority, because you’ll definitely be his.

You’ll always want him around, and when he can’t be, you’ll find yourself lost amidst thoughts of him. And you’ll love it all, because being with him is always going to beat being with anyone else (even if it’s just in your thoughts and dreams).

~

Louis sighed, tapping incessantly at the table as he listened to Eleanor chatter away about something- a new purse, maybe- and he was just so bored, because he didn’t care what the latest fashion sense was, and he most certainly didn’t want to hear about it; never wants to hear another word about it, having been subjected to this torture for the past few hours that he’d been forced into this date with her- not unless it was Harry doing the talking at least.

Harry.

He sighed again, this time with undisguised bliss, eyes glazing over with adoration as his mind filled with thoughts about his boyfriend. He wondered what Harry was doing right at this moment, if he was lazing on the couch, that tanned toffee smelling crocheted blanket draped over his long legs as he watched whatever movie he had on- knowing Harry, it was probably Love Actually, Louis mused- brows furrowed with intense concentration.

He wondered if Harry was thinking of him.

“-is? Lou!” Louis snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of his name, glancing over to find Eleanor staring at him, fond amusement in her eyes.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I asked if you were ready to leave, but I can tell you are- thinking of Harry again, huh?” She teased, a bright grin playing on her lips as he let out a sheepish laugh, blushing faintly as he rubbed at his neck.

“I’m not that obvious, am I?” Eleanor snorted, rolling her eyes before pinning him with a single raised brow.

“Lou, babe, you’re practically shooting hearts out of your eyes. You’re lucky that you’re with me; imagine the scandals you’d be drowning in if it’d been anyone else!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I really need to be more careful.” Louis winced, shaking his head in disappointment with himself- even though he could tell that she was only joking, she was right. He shuddered just thinking about the PR nightmare he’d be ensnared in if he’d been caught looking as fond as he did while thinking of his boy when out with anyone else, or God forbid, looking at anyone else.

“Hey no, none of that. It’s fine, I’m just teasing. It’s nice, you know… To see you that you have someone that makes you so happy, the way he does. And I wish that we didn’t have to do this either, that you could just be, but… it is what it is, eh? Anyway, let’s go. You can drop me off at home, and spend the rest of the day with your boy instead.”

“Are you sure? What about management?”

“I think we’ve done enough for today. If they asked, I’ll tell them I felt unwell.”

“Seriously? Thanks, El!”

~

“Haz, I’m home!” Louis announced cheerfully, quickly toeing off his Vans and kicking them haphazardly behind him as he skipped through the hallways in search of his boyfriend.

“Haz? Baby, where are you?” He called, frowning slightly at the resounding silence in the flat, digging his phone from his pocket to check for any missed messages.

That’s strange… He didn’t say he was heading out…

Louis wandered distractedly to their bedroom, jerking to a stop when he spotted tendrils of familiar curls dangling over the armrest of their couch. He crept closer, a wide grin breaking out on his face at the sight of his lanky boy draped across the couch, lips slightly parted in his sleep. Shuffling to fit himself comfortably under Harry’s arm, Louis smiled contentedly, cuddling closer when Harry’s arm tightened around him even in the curly haired male’s unconscious state.

He’d wanted to have a nice romantic evening with his boy- dinner and movies, followed by a nice relaxing bath and other things, perhaps, but it didn’t matter much, he thought; as long as he had Harry with him, it was perfect nonetheless.

And if Harry found himself gently coaxed awake with warm kisses trailed across his skin, bleary green eyes brightening at the sight of his smaller boyfriend, their evening proceeding with dinner and movies and that very relaxing bath, ending with said other things- Well, neither of them were complaining.

~                

To the one that loves him next:

It’ll be tiring- soul sucking- not being with him (of course not!), but everything else. The hiding and pretending, dealing with management… the constant fighting.

Not with him, against him, of course. But with him, together.

You and him against the rest of the world.

You’ll hate the little schemes that management comes up with; hate watching him having to parade around with some other chick (but be thankful that at least, it’s not some other guy), but just remember that at the end of the day, it’s you that he’ll be coming home to- he’ll make sure to assure you of that too.

You’ll wonder about the day that you can finally be free to be together; wonder when it’ll come, if it’ll ever come, and the fear will grip you at times because what if it never does?

And it’s terrifying, because it’s so, so suffocating.

But he’ll make everything seem like it’ll be alright, because he’s your light in these times of darkness. He’ll understand it, all your little fears, and he’ll hold you close and tell you to be patient, because someday…

Someday.

You’ll remember a time where things were much simpler; where being famous seemed like the only choice, because you would be able to provide a better life for your mum- and that’s all that mattered to you. You’ll remember the advice your mum gave you, and years on now, you’ll finally understand what she meant all those years back- and you’ll realize how true it is.

You’ll never regret it though, falling in love with him, because you won’t be able to imagine anything that could possibly be more wonderful than being in love with the absolute perfection that is Harry Styles.              

~

Louis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration as his head threatened to implode with the way it was pounding, the headache that had been gradually building up through the day now a steady throbbing.

“You alright, Lou?”

“Yeah, fine, I just. I really hate this.” He mumbled resignedly, letting his head fall back onto Harry’s shoulders as he felt long fingers press into the knots of his own soothingly.

“I know… I hate it too. But it just a publicity stunt- just like you and Eleanor. It doesn’t mean anything, because at the end of the day I’ll be coming home to you, and I love you.”

“I love you too. It’s just… When will it end, Haz? When can we finally be free and allowed to just be us?”

“I don’t know, Lou… But whatever it is, whatever happens, we’ll get through it together. We’ll always be us, even if we can’t flaunt it the way we want to right now, but we’ll make it there someday. We just have to be patient. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Louis wondered when it’d all started to feel so tiring, so draining, and utterly soul sucking. He wondered when it begun to make him almost, almost, wish he’d never auditioned for X factor; never made it, never became famous; almost, because he would never give this up- the fans, the boys, Harry- couldn’t give this up even if he tried.

He wouldn’t- couldn’t regret anything that brought Harry into his life.

He remembered how he’d told his mum, young as he was at the mere age of ten, that he wanted to be successful when he got older; that he wanted to be rich and famous so that she would never have to worry again, because he’d take care of her.  

He remembered how she’d laughed and cooed at him, before bringing him into a warm hug and explaining to him, as seriously and simply as she could to her little boy.

“That’s lovely, boo, thank you. But you know… Success isn’t all about money, or fame. I hope you’ll remember that.”

He remembered how he didn’t understand it back then; how he’d stared up at her with confused eyes and a little frown because surely, surely, it was that simple. After all, their struggles had only been brought about by a lack of money.

He wished it was that simple.

~

To the one that loves him next…

Trust him.

He’ll never leave you- not unless you push him away. Forget your insecurities; or better yet, tell them to him, because he’ll assure you over and over again otherwise, until you believe him, and he’ll stick by you through it all.

You may fight about things, as most couples do, and you may end up saying things that you don’t mean and hurting each other. He may walk out, and you’d think he hated you and that you’d lost him forever. And it will send you into a panic, and cause you to have an attack, because you don’t know how to be without him.

But that’s alright, all it takes is a simple apology- a simple I love you and I need you- and he’ll come back.

He’ll always come back to you, because he loves you.  

You may think that he’s precious- and he is, but he is not fragile. He’ll want to protect you, as much as you’ll want to protect you. He’ll tell you that he loves you, but that he’s not scared of loving you, only of losing you, and that you make him strong when he’s with you. He’ll make you feel strong too, and hold the pieces of you together until you can hold on once again.

You don’t have to be strong.

You’re never in this relationship alone, and I hope you’ll remember that.

He’ll make it feel like home.

~

Their first- well, not exactly the first, but their first actual fight, came about after a long day of interviews and meetings and being told that they couldn’t be together, because of some reason or another. It didn’t really come as a surprise to any of them, all things considered- they were stressed; had been snapping at each other all week, and this, whatever it was, had just been the final straw.

Louis wasn’t entirely sure how it happened- how it’d escalated so rapidly; one second they’d been  grumbling about something, and the next, he was screaming at Harry, the latter looking equally as furious as he felt.

“Then leave, why don’t you?! Just leave, Harry, I won’t stop you.”                                                                    

“Lou-”

“No. Leave, Harry.” He stated firmly, turning away from the other male to shield himself from the hurt he knew would be splayed across his face- the hurt that would only be mirroring his own, yet aggravating his by a million times over because it would be on him.

Louis was too much of a coward, much too weak, to face it- all the damage his words caused.

It’s not till the door slams shut that he broke with a choked sob, feeling his blood run cold as the sudden realization of what he had just done dawned upon him.

“Oh my God.” He whipped his phone out, fingers trembling as he frantically punched at the keys, almost dropping his phone numerous times in his anxiety.

Harry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, please don’t leave me. Please come back, Haz, please.

Louis let out a sob, sinking to the ground in as the message marked as read, yet with no bubbles following to show that a reply was in progress.

He probably hates me.

Oh God, he’s going to leave me.

It’s with that thought that everything comes crashing down, his vision blurring, head spinning, heart pounding, lungs constricting as he gasped for air, breaths coming quick and fast. He scrambled to get to his inhaler, heart thumping painfully and breaths shortening into a full blown panic attack when his legs crumbled weakly beneath him, sending him sprawling back down.

Harry. He needed Harry; Harry would know what to do, would make everything better.

But Harry wasn’t here, and he couldn’t breathe.

“Lou? Where are you?” He heard over the rush of blood in his ears, relief crashing over him because Harry had found him, and he was going to be okay, because Harry wouldn’t let anything happen to him- wait, no.

“Seriously, you better not be giving me the silent treatment after asking me to come back.” He tried calling out to him, panicking when he heard the front door shut and footsteps heading towards the stairs, a mantra of HarryHarryHarryHarryHarry going through his head, a barely audible frail croak emerging from his throat instead.

“H-Haz-”

“Lou? Oh, shit.” He felt- felt more than heard, because of the ringing in his ears- Harry sprinting up the stairs to their room, and a brief moment later, strong arms winding around his waist and delicately hoisting him into a seated position, head cushioned by a firm chest as his inhaler was edged between his lips. Louis clutched desperately at Harry’s sleeve as he struggled with strangled wheezes, because it wasn’t working, he still couldn’t breathe, and he needed to breathe, even if just so that he could tell his boy that he loved him and that he needed him like the air he breathed (Haha, pun intended, need to remember that for Harry, he thought distractedly).

“Here, Lou- Come on, babe. Deep breaths for me, I need you to focus- Lou, just look at me.” His eyes instinctually flicked up to meet Harry’s worried ones at the command, erratic breaths slowing automatically as he felt a wave of calm settle over him- the way it always did when Harry was around.

“There we go, boo. You’re okay.”

“H-Harry.” He whimpered silently, tears spilling over his flushed cheeks- his asthma attack leaving him emotionally wrought and vulnerable as they always did- as he felt the other male smooth a reassuring palm down his chest, rubbing small circles into his skin.

“Shh, it’s alright, Lou. You’re okay, we’re okay. I’m not leaving you, babe, I’ll never leave you. Just breathe for me, alright?”

“I’m sorry.” Louis ventured quietly, when he could breathe somewhat steadily and no longer felt suffocated, intertwining his fingers with Harry’s where they rested on his stomach.

“Mm? What for? There’s nothing to be sorry for, Lou.”

“For the yelling. For- for telling you to leave, and for hurting you. I didn’t mean to- I don’t want to ever again.”

“I know, boo, I know. And it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean to, and ‘sides, I did too. Hurt you, I mean, and I’m so sorry for that too. I shouldn’t have walked out.” He nodded mutely, not wanting to start another argument about whose fault it really was (it was his, of course- that much he was undoubtedly sure of), fidgeting hesitantly before voicing his thoughts in a small, timid whisper.

“…What if we break, Haz? What if it gets too much for us, and we-”

“We won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?” Louis let out an embarrassing squeak as he was abruptly lifted into Harry’s lap, straddling his hips, the younger male leaning forward to rest their foreheads together intimately.

“I told you that no matter what happened, we’d make it through together, and I meant that. You’re it for me, Lou, and I don’t think I could ever leave you, not even if I tried- I can’t imagine even wanting to. And I can’t imagine a life where you’re not with me- where we’re not together, because you and me, we’re written in the stars. You’re mine, just like I’m yours, and that’s the way it’s always going to be.”

“But what if I’m not strong enough, Haz?”

“Then I’ll hold us together. I’m not sorry to say that I need you, Lou. I don’t care to show the world that I do- I’m not scared of that. I’m not scared of loving you, only of losing you, because when I’m not with you, I’m weaker- you make me strong.”

“That sounds like a song.” He giggled lightly as Harry peppered little kisses all over his face, nuzzling into his neck to place a gentle kiss by his jaw.

“Maybe I’ll write it into one, just for you.”

(He did, and named it Strong. It made Louis cry, and in a sudden burst of inspired adoration, he wrote one too, and named it Home.)

~

To the one who loves him next:

It’s not easy.

You’ll get sick of the hiding, of the beards, of not being able to be with him in public. You’ll be tired of having to pretend that you’re something you’re not; of denying the relationship between you two. You’ll wish you could hold his hand, that you could hug him and kiss him, that you could shout it from the rooftops so that everyone who know that he was yours, and that you were his.

But you can’t.

You’ll have to watch him flirt and be flirted with by other people, just like he’ll have to watch you go through the same. You’ll hate it, and so will he. And it may surprise you how possessive he can get, though in hindsight, maybe it wouldn’t since it’ll be obvious just how much he loves you.

Kiss him, and love him, and tell him that you’ll always be his- because you will be, once you’ve fallen for him, there’s no taking back.                                                  

You’ll go on romantic dates on your days off (far and few between, but take what you can get), complete with handholding and little kisses, and it’ll be perfect. Until you’re spotted and have to split up to avoid the speculations and rumours, because God knows that management will try to break you apart (again) if that happens. You’ll dream of the day you can finally be with him the way you always wished you could be- married and eagerly awaiting the adoption of your children. And you’ll wish… Oh, how you’ll wish.

But it is what it is.

No, it’s not easy.

But I’m not sure that anything worth it ever is. And if there’s ever just one thing you want to fight for in your entire life, he’ll be the one.

~

It wasn’t easy; the hiding, the beards, the publicity stunts, the having to deny who they were, over and over again- they never thought that it would be, because things that were worth it rarely came easy.

Harry sighed inaudibly, nursing the half-drunk cocktail in his hands distractedly as he flashed a polite (and incredibly bored) smile at his companion. She’d approached him at the bar, where he’d been waiting for their drinks, introduced herself with a high pitched giggle, and promptly proceeded to fawn over him and drone on about how much of a fan she was of him- he would have been so much more appreciative and flattered of the praise, if she’d only been genuine and not blatantly flirting with him.

He glanced over to where Louis was, seated in a booth with the other boys, eyes softening fondly when the older male threw his head back in raucous laughter. His brows narrowed as he caught sight of a tall quiffed male sauntered towards their table, leaning over Louis in a clearly suggestive manner. He watched in silent anger, jaw tensing, raging jealousy clawing at his chest when the stupid guy places a hand on his Louis’ thigh.

“Excuse me.” Harry gritted out, barely noticing the disappointed look shot his way as he stalked back to their table, slipping in beside Louis and throwing an arm around his shoulder possessively.

“Hey love.” He greeted casually, Louis cuddling closer into his side with barely concealed mirth dancing in those sparkling orbs, raising an eyebrow condescendingly at the stranger when he scowled down at him.

“Sorry, was I interrupting something?” Harry questioned as he looked to Louis, disregarding the disgruntled male still standing by their table, coaxing a wave of adorable giggles from the smaller male as he winked at him.

“No, you weren’t, love- Perfect timing actually, as always. Matthew-” Louis answered, eyes glued to his boyfriend’s as he motioned in the general direction of said male dismissively, ignoring the stifled chokes of laughter from the other boys when he spat out a ‘it’s Mark’.

“-sorry, Mark here was just about to leave.”

“Wanna dance, Lou?” Harry smirked lightly, taking Louis’ hand in his to lead him out to the dance floor, choosing a dark corner where they wouldn’t be noticed as much. He dropped his arms to Louis’ hips, swaying them side to side for a few moments, gaze burning intensely into the caramel haired male.

“Hey. I love you.” Louis whispered with a small smile- as if he was confessing a deeply held secret- looping his arms around Harry’s neck, fingers playing with the soft tufts of hair there.

Harry ducked down to press a kiss to the underside of Louis’ jaw, trailing fiery kisses across the skin of his neck. Louis gasped as he nibbled on his earlobe before moving to mouth wetly at the sweet spot just beneath, one hand shooting up to Harry’s neck to hold him there.

“What’s gotten into you, babe?”

“Nothing. I just wanna show the world that you’re mine.” Louis huffed out a breathless laugh, blood singing and spine tingling pleasantly with all the attention lavished upon him.

“I’m all yours, Haz. Always have been, always will be.”

~

But sometimes they wished, just wished that it could be, that they could just be.

Times like this, when they finally, finally, had a long awaited day off and decided to go on a date, treating themselves to fine dining at a fancy restaurant close by, followed closely by shared kisses and blissful laughter over ice cream from that little shop around the corner (the only one that they ever went to really, because they had the best ice cream in town, and also because the owners were kind enough to keep a special booth hidden away from public just for them), and ending with a slow stroll through the park.

It had all been going perfectly, until they were met with a gaggle of squealing fan girls in the park. They hurriedly broke apart, Louis tucked further into his hood as he ducked his head and hunched his shoulders, slinking away unnoticed with a quick glance and nod to Harry- they’d been trained for this; would never have been allowed out together by management otherwise- not that they were really allowed to anyway.  

Sometimes Louis wondered what life would have been like if they weren’t famous; if he’d still met Harry (because they would have, of course they would- they were soul mates, after all), but without all the fame and glamour; without all the spotlights on them, the gossips and speculation, the paparazzi and fans, the beards and management; without the stress, the hurt, the longing.

They’d be able to be, Louis thought, to be able to just go on dates as they wished, giggling over shared ice creams and romantic candlelit dinners, holding hands in the park and exchanging sweet kisses, and they would never have to hide their love, never have to let go.

If they’d met under different circumstances- Louis having wandered into the bakery Harry’d been working at perhaps, and chatted up the guy with those gorgeous green eyes, those curls and those absolutely wonderful dimples, exchanging numbers and asking him out on a date, that turning into another and another, turning into forever- maybe they would be happily married by now; maybe they’d even be on the waitlist for adoption, eagerly awaiting this next change of their lives together.

But they hadn’t.

And as much as they wished for it, this was their lives now.

It is what it is.

~

To the one who loves him next:

Sometimes he’ll feel lonely. Sometimes you will too; no matter how many friends you’re surrounded by, it just won’t feel right.

You’ll have to go for trips away from him, and you will spend every single second hating it, because he’s not with you. You’ll have sleepless nights, missing that familiar warmth beside you, and it’s only his sweaters that you’d stolen that will bring the slightest of comforts to you.

You’ll be so glad to finally go home to him- because anywhere he is, home is.

You may see him as a strong, confident, unbreakable being, and while he usually is, he does have his moments too.

He’s got a good heart; a big heart, and an incredibly soft one at that too, and unfortunately, that means that he’s more vulnerable. He’s always going to try and please everyone, and yet not everyone will return that favour, and sometimes the hurt and rejection builds up too much for him to handle.

And he’ll break, and he’ll need you to hold him tight, and tell him that you’re there, that you love him, that he’s enough.

Because sometimes he doesn’t understand why he’s not- and it’s so ridiculous, because of course he is, but you’ll need to tell him, over and over again until he believes it.

He’ll always be enough.

~

“Haz, I’m home!” Louis called out, fumbling for the light switch by the entrance and allowing the bright light to spill into the room. He frowned at the silence that greeted him, shuffling his shoes off and trudging wearily up the stairs to their shared bedroom.

“Haz?” He ventured softly into the darkness of the room, just barely making out the lump on the bed beneath the duvet through squinted eyes. He sighed, turning to leave, hand dragging the door shut behind him. He’d just had another long, tiring “date” with Eleanor, this one spanning over a couple of days in beach somewhere- he’d hated every single second of it. He’d missed Harry so much, missed him with every fiber of his being every second of the day, and he’d hoped that Harry would be awake for a nice cuddle session on the couch, but-

Louis jerked to a stop, brows furrowing as he strained his ears for any strange sounds; he could’ve sworn that he’d just heard a sob. He flinched at the unexpected sound, flinging the door open and clambering over the bed so that he could huddle up close to his taller boyfriend.

“Haz? Haz, babe, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Harry remained silent, figure prone on the bed, the silence deafening between them as Louis anxiously waited for his boy to answer.

“I’m fine- It’s just- T-Twitter, and then- A-And then you weren’t here, and I-I needed you to be, and I was so alone- Louis.” Louis pressed in closer at the break in his voice, shushing him with calming murmurs and tenderly kissing his tears away.

Oh Haz.

“It’s alright, H. You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone; I’m here. I love you so much.” He whispered, brushing his lips across the warm skin at his neck, raising goose bumps in its wake as Harry trembled with a small whimper.

“Why can’t we ever be enough for them, Lou?” Louis pulled back, lifting Harry’s chin to stare him firmly in the eyes, sapphire burning into emeralds with their intensity.

“We are, Haz. Those people- they’re just jealous of us. They don’t know about us; they don’t know you the way I do; you’re such a kind soul, H, so wonderful and lovely, and you’ve got such a big heart too. How could you not be enough? You’re enough, Haz. Always.”

~                              

If there’s anything you take away from this, please just take this one final plea from someone who lost that privilege of loving him, someone who maybe no longer has the right to say so:

To the one who loves him next- Don’t let go. Love him with all you have, with all your heart, and mind, and soul; cherish him, and don’t ever, ever let go. Because if you do, you will regret it, and you’ll wish you could have him back, and you’ll wish that you could still be in love with him, and him with you- I hope you’ll never experience the pain of losing him.

I would never wish that much hurt on someone.

You will never stop loving him, never move on from him, never forget him, because he makes loving him just so easy; because no one will love you the way he will, and no one- NO ONE, will ever be able to replace the place he’d held in your life- not even close.

Don’t make the same mistakes I did.

Because it will hurt every single little bit that you thought it might, and you won’t know how to be without him, or how to stop loving him. And you’ll realize that you never want to stop loving him, and it’s that thought that will finally break you- completely shattering the final remnants of your heart that you’d managed to hold together, few and tattered scraps as they may be.

You’ll find that life without him isn’t life at all.

To the one who loves him next, please love him.

All I ask of you is that you please not hurt him. He only deserves the very best, and God knows that I couldn’t be it and that I hurt him. Please love him twice as much, because I hope that you’ll keep on loving him for me too, now that I will no longer be around to do so.

I will be forever indebted to you, for loving him, and for making him happy.

Yours sincerely,

The one who loves him too.

~

“Haz, we need to talk.” Louis edged guiltily, hovering by the entrance to their lounge. Harry lifted his head from his novel, frowning as he studies the nervous fidget of his small love.

“I-Sure? What’s wrong, boo?”

“I… I don’t think this is going to work anymore.” He breathed, swallowing tightly at the panic that flashed across the curly haired male’s face, mossy eyes streaked with hurt.

“What do you mean?”

“I want to break up.”

“W-What? W-Why?! What brought this on? We’ve been fine!” Harry choked out, bottom lip trembling as tears sprung to his eyes. Louis’d been rather shifty lately, but he’d never have thought that it would come to this.

How long had he been thinking of it?

“No, we haven’t, Harry. We haven’t been fine in a long time, since the beards and the publicity stunts and management breathing down our necks, and now with the hiatus, and I’m just-!” Louis proclaimed, throwing his arms up in exasperation, head bowing with defeat as he muttered disconsolately.

“I’m so tired of it all, Harry. I can’t do it anymore.”

“No, Lou, you don’t mean that. We’ll find a way; we’ll work through it, together, just like we always have.” Harry pleaded desperately, cradling Louis’ face in his palms, urging him to meet his eyes- something that the elder steadfastly refused to do.

“We can’t! I don’t want to, Harry. I don’t want to work this out anymore.” Harry dropped his hands slowly, heart sinking with the spoken words- the ugly realization that Louis really wanted to end it with him; that he’d meant so little to Louis; that he could have been so easily thrown away.

“So what? That’s it? We’ve been together six years, Louis! And you’re just going to give me that shit and break up with me?”

“Yes, Harry. Look, I’m sorry if that’s not what you want but I want to break up, so I guess that’s the way it’s going to be.” Louis threw over his shoulder flippantly as he turned away, as if completely disregarding Harry’s objections and feelings.

“…Fine. Let’s break up then.” Harry stated coldly, stalking towards the front door and snatching his coat from where it hung on the stand, slamming the door harshly behind him as he walked out of their home- out of his life.

“You’re cruel, Louis Tomlinson. I wish I’d never fallen in love with you.”

Louis took a shaky breath, dashing wretchedly at the forlorn tear dripping down his cheek.

All’s fine, all’s well- as well as one could be having lost the single best thing in his otherwise dreary life.

~

Louis sighed, rubbing at the coarse fabric absentmindedly as he stared out the large glass window by his bedside, one that overlooked the spacious garden- what was once a radiant green now frosted over and rapidly covered in a sheet of white as flurries of snow drifted down.

“Merry Christmas, Haz.” He whispered quietly, watching the snow crystals spiral down leisurely, the huge Christmas tree standing proudly in the middle dusted with flecks of white. He’d never thought that he would be celebrating Christmas (and his birthday) alone, without Harry by his side-never once considered the possibility, not even before when their publicity stunts would take them away from each other for the holidays.

Harry had always been there, in all the six years that he’s known him, celebrating the festivities (his birthday at least, if not Christmas too) together at either his or Harry’s family home.

He wondered if Harry was with his family in Cheshire; he wondered if Gemma had dragged him out shopping again, if he’d gotten more ugly Christmas sweaters (as he’d done every other year).

He wondered how Harry was coping; if he was still hurt, if he’d moved on, if he’d found someone new, if he missed him- if he still loved him.

Not that it would do me any good if he did. It’s better this way.

Louis sighed again, desolately, shifting his gaze from the children who’d happily found their ways outside into the snow, to the annoyingly beeping machinery surrounding him, and finally to the framed photograph on the little table next to his bed. He reached over to pick it up, lips curling into a small fond smile as his thumb lightly smoothed over the glass where Harry’s beaming face was.

His smile faltered, guilt gnawing at his entire being as he remembered the last time they’d seen each other- the anguish splayed across his beloved’s face; the hurt he’d put Harry through.

He hoped that Harry had gotten back his smile.

Louis mused, so lost and distracted by his thoughts that he missed the thundering footsteps heading his way. He startled with a sharp flinch as his ward door was violently flung open, a breathless Lou falling from those petal lips he’d so dearly missed as he was abruptly hauled into warm, familiar arms.

Harry.

“H-Harry?” Louis blinked slowly, shocked with the sudden turn of events- Harry was never meant to find out, to find him.

“How did you…?”

“Lottie. She told me- I thought… I couldn’t believe it- God, Lou. Why didn’t you tell me, boo?” Harry murmured softly, pressing chaste kisses over tanned skin before settling slightly, face buried into the crook between his neck and shoulder.

“I didn’t want you to know- I didn’t want you to hurt, Haz.” Louis whispered feebly, crumbling into the comfort of the taller male’s embrace. Harry snorted in disbelief, curls brushing against Louis’ cheek as he nuzzled at his neck.

“But I did, Lou. You can’t imagine how much it hurt, the rejection I felt, when you said you wanted to break up with me. I mean, yeah sure, I was angry at first- furious, in fact- but it passed into hurt so quickly that I just.” He broke off with an upset shake of his head, stilling as he attempted to gather his thoughts.

“Then imagine what I felt when I found out. I wanted to know, Lou. I would’ve wanted to know, because even though it’s going to suck in the future- and God knows how much it already does- but I want to be here with you, supporting you, holding your hand through all the treatments and bad days, and I especially want to be here to celebrate with you during the good. I’d never forgive myself otherwise.”

“Oh Haz. I’d never reject you- I just didn’t know what to do.” Louis mewled miserably, grasping desperately at Harry, the latter tightening his hold with quiet reassurances as he quivered weakly.

“Lottie, she gave me this too.” Harry pulled back slightly, brandishing the pages of a letter he had clamped in a clenched fist, studying Louis as the other male paled and flushed simultaneously, eyes dropping away shamefully.

“You weren’t meant to see that.”

“Lou, look at me.” Harry imposed, waiting patiently till he shyly glanced at him.

“There will never be anyone else, Lou. Not now, not ever. I can’t believe you’d even think there could be, boo- it’s always been you and me, together, for life. And we’ll get through this illness together.”  

“Okay. Okay, Haz.”

~

5 years later-

“Are you ready to go, baby? We need to leave soon!” Harry called over his shoulder, packing the final bits and pieces into a small baby blue backpack. He strolled to the bottom of the stairs when all he heard was silence, craning his neck to peer upwards best he could.

“Baby girl? Where are you?” He smiled when he saw a flash of dark brown curls, tiny footsteps pattering around the corner, finally revealing his little love.

“There you are, darling. Are you ready to go?” The young girl nodded eagerly, teeth showing in a bright grin as she leaped off the last few steps into his awaiting arms, enthusiastically shoving a crudely drawn picture into his face.

“Yes, Daddy! Look, I made this!” Harry chuckled fondly as he took in the three stick figures framed by a large curving rainbow, the words Daddy, me and Papa sprawled crookedly above their heads, guffawing when he noticed the height difference between “Daddy” and “Papa”.            

“Oh, it’s lovely, sweetheart. Is that for papa?” He grinned when she nodded, placing a quick kiss to the mop of unruly curls adorning her head.

“Papa will love it! Now let’s go so you can show it to him.”

~

Harry pulled up in the lot, nervous anticipation tugging at his gut as he stared up at the imposing tall white building. Memories of the times they’d spent here flashed through his mind; images of a pale, weak Louis bedridden; of his thin brows furrowed in pain as he clutched at Harry’s hand tightly; of the moment when they finally, finally could go home- a much healthier looking Louis bouncing happily at the news. He inhaled deeply, not knowing what to expect as he helped Darcy from her seat, pulling her into a tight hug to regain his composure before taking her hand.

Even after all these years, the fear still gripped him, all the what ifs crowding his mind, because what if?

What if.

They weaved their way haltingly through the corridors, Harry freezing when he sees his husband seated outside, head buried in his arms. He jolted towards the smaller male at a sob, scrambling hurriedly over to him and gathering him in a firm hug.

“Lou? Lou, baby, what’s wrong? Is it-? Did it come back?” Louis lifted his head, eyes watery with tears spilling down his cheeks, a small smile building on his lips.

“N-No. I’m- I’m cleared, Haz, I’m free. Haz, I’m free.”

“Oh my God. You’re- We’re-” Harry stuttered, dimples popping as his lips broke into a wide grin. He let out a loud cheer, scooping Louis up and spinning him around ecstatically, the latter giggling delightedly.

“Papa? Are you okay?” They turned in sync; chuckling at the bewilderment painted across their daughter’s confused face.

“Yes, Darcy, love, Papa’s okay. Everything’s fine.” Louis urged Harry to lower him, throwing his arms open to catch Darcy barreling into him. She leaned up to kiss his cheek, wet and sloppy, trailing fingers to brush away his tears as she looked up at him questioningly.

“Why are you crying then, papa?”

“I’m crying because I’m happy, sweetheart. I’m so happy.” Louis huffed in laughter, smiling down adoringly at his daughter as her face creased in consideration, before nodding decidedly.

“Good. Then I’m happy too, because I like it when you’re happy!”

“Thank you, darling. We’re fine.” He traded a loving look with Harry over Darcy’s head, eyes twinkling with their usual mirth and spark.

We’re fine.

~

To the one that loves him next:

There will be no one else, Lou, I promise you that.

There’s only you.

It’s only ever been you.

I love you so much, and I’m going to be there with you every step of the way.

We’ll make it through, boo, everything’s going to be fine; I know it will be.

And we’ll get married, and adopt a child, and we’ll be happy- so you’ll be fine, Lou.

We’ll be fine.

Eternally and entirely yours,

Harry.

 ~Fin.~