#I Am Missing Something Important Here; Which Is Unfair Because It Concerns Me || dash commentary

[sunriseinsound]

tag dump! the tags are all lines from the books! (except my ooc tag, obviously lol)

[novelconcepts]

FOUND IT!!! Consider this an official ask for 3 and 14 combined! #wheee

smiling into a kiss and play wrestling

Having a best friend again is strange. She’d gone so long imagining the phrase as a sort of neon sign staked firmly in the past: Best Friend, already spoken for. Eddie had always been it; no other volunteers need apply. 

But Eddie’s gone now, out of her life, living out wherever his might go in another country altogether, and Dani finds the position has--slowly, without really planning for it--been filled once more. Not that she planned for it. Not that could ever could have. 

She didn’t come to Bly looking for Jamie, and if you’d told her the gardener who refused to so much as meet her eyes, much less introduce herself, would become the most important person in her life--well. Life is full of surprises.

There is so little of Eddie in Jamie, she sometimes wonders how both could have occupied the same shape in her heart. Sometimes wonders how Eddie--who prized cleanliness, routine work hours, dinners at his mother’s once a week--would look at Jamie, if he could see her. Jamie, all tousled hair, happiest with a cigarette between her teeth and both hands buried in soil. Jamie, who has never kept a nine-to-five, never craved Sunday afternoons with her parents, never looks at Dani like she expects firm posture, bright smile, neat clothes. 

They couldn’t possibly be more different--and yet, somehow, Jamie is her best friend. Unfair to think it, maybe, but she might be the best friend Dani’s ever had. Her sense of humor is dark, her vocabulary wallpapered with curse words and shorn letters; she smells of nicotine and sunscreen, dresses in wrinkled flannels and torn jeans. Where Eddie looped an arm around her shoulders, Jamie nudges her with bony elbows; where Eddie pressed his lips to her temple, Jamie leans carefully away. Different, in every measure. 

And it isn’t that she likes Jamie more. That wouldn’t be fair--not after so many years in Eddie’s company. It’s just that when Jamie looks at her, eyes bright, dirt smudged on one cheek, sometimes, she feels...

“You’re thinking,” Jamie observes. She doesn’t say it the way Eddie would--the way he always pointed out when she was clenching her fist under the table, or picking at her nails, his voice edged with concern bordering on condescension. Her voice is light, her lips curved in a small smile. 

Eddie never quite smiled at her like that. Or, if he did, it didn't pluck the same chord in her stomach. Not that that matters. Not that that affects the sincerity of friendship. 

Not that it’s making her feel weirdly flushed this afternoon. 

“Am I not allowed to think?” she asks. The sun, she thinks, is responsible for the goofy smile on her face. The heat of the day, which stretches on and on the way only early July knows how.

“Not arguing,” Jamie says. “One of us ought to.”

She’s on her knees, pulling weeds, her face shining with sweat. There’s something about days like this--afternoons where the kids are occupied helping Owen bake cookies, leaving Dani to nurse a glass of water and pleasantly-meandering conversation--that feels almost too good to be allowed. Eddie would have wanted to do something with a day like this: hike, or clear up the yard, or go visit family. 

Jamie, on the other hand, pushes to her feet and surveys the bed she’s spent all day working. “Think that’s good enough for a break. Here, budge over.”

Dani obediently scoots to the edge of her seat, amused when Jamie flops down half in her lap. A year of working at the manor, and Jamie’s gone from a woman who couldn’t make eye contact to save her life to this: gangly limbs tossed haphazardly over Dani’s, sweat-slick skin sticking where it lands against Dani’s shoulder. It’s too hot for cozying up like this, but she can’t seem to convince herself to push Jamie away. 

“There,” Jamie sighs, tilting her head back against the plastic of the lawn chair. “Christ, feels good just to breathe.”

“You breathe,” Dani says, “and I’ll think. Together, we make an almost-functional human being.”

“Almost,” Jamie says wryly. Her hand loops around Dani’s, teasing the sweating glass out of her grip long enough to take a sip. Dani nudges her. 

“Could get you one of your own, if you ever learned to ask politely.”

“Don’t like me polite,” Jamie says with a shrug. “My brand is prickly-yet-charming, and we both know I’m your favorite for it.”

“Technically,” Dani corrects, “Flora is my favorite. Mainly because she doesn’t make me remind her to say please.”

“Please,” Jamie says without missing a beat, “keep pretending you aren’t captivated by my winning personality.”

Dani laughs. “Oh, is that what I am?”

“Mm.” Jamie takes another sip, reaches over her to set the glass down on the table, closes her eyes. “S’what you were all pensive about just now, I’m sure. How entranced you are with my witty banter.”

“Entranced,” Dani repeats.

“Beguiled. Mesmerized. Drunk with adoration.” Jamie’s face is pink, a bead of sweat neatly lining her upper lip. Dani only realizes she’s staring a fortunate beat before Jamie rolls her head to the left, peering at her with lazy amusement. “Go on. Tell me how much you love me.”

“Love how ridiculous you can be, maybe.” And how sweet, and how unquestioningly soft, though she doesn’t see a need to put that into words--or a way to do it without sounding entirely out of her head. The heat, she thinks, is absolutely getting to her. 

It’s the heat, making her want suddenly to slide an arm between the plastic back of the chair and the cotton of Jamie’s tank top, pulling her even closer. The heat, making her want to displace the normal back-and-forth ease of friendship with something else entirely. 

She’s had a best friend before. She’s never quite wanted to do with Eddie what she is, more and more, thinking about with Jamie curled up beside her. 

Distract, she thinks, because Jamie is still watching her with that half-lidded expression she gets when the sun is particularly bright, the day’s work has been well-tended, and Dani’s shoulder is a cushion beneath her head. More and more, it’s been feeling like a dangerous sort of moment, Jamie’s face lingering near the crook of her neck. Jamie’s breath coasting down the neckline of her dress. Jamie’s smile sweeter than should be allowed, given the grumpy way she slouches around the grounds. 

“Thinking,” Jamie says, her voice almost soft. Dani shakes her head. 

“It’s not illegal.”

“Is,” Jamie says, “if you’re gonna just stare at me all googly-eyed while you do it. C’mon, what gives? Is today some holiday I’ve forgotten?” She sits up a little straighter, her face comic in its sudden concern. “Shit, Poppins, it’s not your birthday.”

She almost wants to say it is, just to watch Jamie turn fascinating new shades of maroon. “No--just--it’s hot.”

Jamie sags back with palpable relief. Her arm is freckled, Dani notices, beyond the norm; the summer is drawing all sorts of secrets from her skin, and it’s suddenly painfully tempting, the urge to trace her nail along these newfound constellations. 

Distract, she thinks again, more urgently this time. Without thinking it through, without considering the consequences, she dips two fingers into the glass of water and flicks the still-cool moisture directly into Jamie’s face. 

Jamie, to her credit, hardly jumps. She’s just blinking at Dani like their conversation has taken an unanticipated left turn into another language, water dripping from the end of her nose. 

“Okay,” she says. “If that’s how we’re playing it.”

Her arm reaches across without hesitation, replicating Dani’s playbook: two fingers dipped, flicked, landing back in her lap as Dani sputters. 

“You got me in the eye.”

“Cooled you off, though?” Jamie asks, almost politely. Dani laughs, and suddenly, it’s war. There’s barely enough room on the chair for the both of them to sit like adults, much less to squirm around, hips knocking, legs tangled up as the remainder of the glass finds its way--droplet by droplet--into Jamie’s face, down Dani’s neck, sometimes missing entirely and disappearing into the sizzling summer air. 

Dani is ultimately the victor, an upset decided when she grasps the glass--now containing maybe two inches of water--and upends it directly over Jamie’s head. She’s laughing almost too hard to breathe, particularly when Jamie gives a firm shake of her hair, looking like a rumpled dog after a bath.

“That,” Jamie says in a low, dangerous tone, “cannot stand.”

She’s up before Dani can stop her, sprinting toward the garden hose uncoiled in the grass. Dani twists in her seat, knees drawn up to her chest, arms extended.

“Don’t you dare!”

“All’s fair,” Jamie says, almost apologetically, depressing the trigger. 

They are, Dani notes somewhere in the back of her mind, full-grown adult women. They are thirty years old, gainfully employed, responsible for the upkeep of an entire house and the well-being of two small children. 

They are also now chasing one another across the lawn, Dani sopping wet, Jamie laughing so hard she nearly trips over her own feet taking a corner too fast. The hose is growing more and more tangled by the minute as she dashes in a zig-zag pattern, periodically firing a jet of water over her shoulder, and Dani has no prayer of catching up--not with her shoes squelching, slipping on wet grass, her lungs clenched around a soundless jag of laughter. 

Adults, she thinks, as Jamie makes the insurmountable error of trying to bolt past her like a quarterback dodging a tackle; she makes a successful leap over the tangled hose, but forgets at the last second to factor in the edge of the lawn chair. Dani has her around the middle before she can dart out of reach, the both of them tumbling over in a cackling heap of grass clippings, puddled hose water, freckled limbs. 

They’re rolling, shouting wordlessly around giggles, Dani struggling to pry the hose out of Jamie’s hands. It’s harder than it looks; Jamie is small, but strong in an annoyingly wiry sort of way. Even when Dani manages to get her onto her back, the water is inescapable, dousing in short jets across her chest, down her arms, pooling awkwardly between them. 

“You are,” she laughs, “a child.”

“Could a child do this?” Jamie replies, jerking upward at the hips with unexpected force. Dani rocks up with her, one hand grasping the sodden front of Jamie’s shirt for balance, and drops back down without budging from her seat. Jamie releases an oof as her back makes rough contact with the ground again, giggling too hard to successfully shove Dani over.

“Yes, actually, I think a child would be exactly that effective,” Dani informs her. Her body has never felt quite this alive, her muscles aching with the effort of an unplanned run. Jamie, chest heaving for breath, is practically glowing. 

“Just want to remind you,” Jamie says, “you did start this.”

“Does that mean I win?” If she hasn’t, she can’t imagine it would feel any better than this: straddling Jamie’s hips in the soft grass, cool water seeping down her back, her dress sticking pleasantly to warm skin. Jamie allows the hose to drop from her grip at last, her head tipped back, eyes closed.

“Call it a draw.”

“What if I wanted to win?” She slides a hand up without thinking, pinning Jamie by the wrist before she can decide to take up her watery weapon again. Jamie draws a deep breath, face flushed, grinning. 

“Guess you’d have to work harder for it.”

Children, Dani thinks--but suddenly, it doesn’t feel childish anymore. Suddenly, she’s overly aware of her dress rucked high around her thighs, of how short Jamie’s shorts really are, how her body is considerably less obscured than usual with her shirt plastered to her frame. Suddenly, she’s aware of Jamie’s hand flexing against the grass, pinned beside her head with a loose enough grip to break--though Jamie isn’t breaking it. Isn’t even trying.

Jamie is, instead, gazing up at her with hair mussed, eyes bright. Jamie, whose free hand is sliding up to rest along the curve of Dani’s hip. 

She’s Dani’s best friend, like he was, but this doesn’t feel like it belongs in the same category as late-night stories swapped by the fire, or letting each other steal the vegetables the other doesn’t care for off their plate. This feels like a category all its own: the way Jamie licks her lips as Dani’s head lowers, the way Dani’s fingers graze the freckles painting her wrist on the way up to notching her palm against Jamie’s. 

Her hair is wet, and Jamie’s face is sweaty, and there’s so little romance to the whole picture, it takes her by surprise. She’s always thought there should be talking before a thing like this, at least--a decision made on equal footing. 

“I don’t have to,” she says, even as Jamie is saying, “Do you want to?”

Children would laugh again, go back to wrestling, go back to how it all felt just a few minutes before. They are not, Dani notes as she lowers her head--as Jamie shifts up at the shoulders to meet her--children. 

She’s hyper-aware of all of it now: the sun beating against her shoulders, the hand Jamie is using to grip the back of her dress, the exact angle of Jamie’s mouth parting beneath her own. Her tongue is gentle, brushing Jamie’s, and the sound Jamie makes into her is anything but. 

She’s smiling, she realizes, so hard, it hurts--that deep, wonderful hurt of laughing too hard for too long, of slipping in the grass and landing in a heap with someone who couldn’t help catching her on the way down. She’s grinning into Jamie even as she’s kissing her, even as she’s letting her body stretch out to press Jamie more firmly against the damp ground. 

And Jamie, fingers curled between her own, making soft sounds of appreciation into the kiss, is grinning right back. 

“This was your plan all along,” she accuses, brushing the hair from Dani’s eyes when they break for a breath. “Awful lot of work, for a kiss.”

“All’s fair?” Dani suggests--and she genuinely, honestly cannot decide which she likes more: the way Jamie kisses, or the way Jamie kisses and laughs at the same time. All of it, she feels, goes a country mile beyond best friends. All of it goes a country mile beyond anything she could ever have dreamed up, walking away from him the way she did. 

It couldn’t possibly be more different.

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

Stupid For You

A/N: So I recently stumbled upon this band called Waterparks, and this song just screamed Remile to me for some reason. So here! I wrote a thing! (Also there’s background Moxiety and implied Logince, cause why not!)

Warnings: alcohol mention, kissing, implied NSFW (not really, but it could be seen that way), making out, food mention (lmk if anything should be added!)

Hey, tell me what you want me to say

You know I'm stupid for you

Hey, can you come-a come out and play?

You know I'm stupid for you

Remy lived a simple, routine life. Some would say it was “dreadfully predictable” (his brother, Roman’s words, not his) and that he needed “a spark” or “some pizazz” (again, Roman’s words). But Remy was perfectly happy. Sleep all day, party all night. Oh, and live off of Starbucks. Work was a thing too, he supposed. The bookstore was hella boring, but at least he could flirtatiously tease his best friend, Logan, who ran the place. And Logan didn’t mind that he was late to work half the time, and that he typically strolled in with an iced caffeinated drink in hand. But all of that was upended when the most adorable man Remy had ever seen waltzed into the bookstore, and snatched his heart away on the way out.

I'm color-coding my moods

You're yellow, I'm natural blue

Let's get together and be green like my insides

At least I'll match your eyes

Jealous and hypnotized

Let's match our faces and be equally in love

Remy was fairly certain that Dr. Emile Picani was sunshine personified. Suddenly he understood his brother’s ramblings about needing a spark in his life… Remy just didn’t anticipate getting the whole damn sun. Also, he had the most beautiful sparkling green eyes, which was just unfair. He barely caught half the words the man said as he was checking him out- no, not like that- well, yes like that, but that’s besides the point! The doctor was buying some children’s books… something about a new treatment tactic for his patients. And Remy couldn’t catch anything but his name, thanks to that blinding smile.

Hey, tell me what you want me to say

You know I'm stupid for you

Hey, can you come and come out and play?

You know I'm stupid for you

“Uh, hello? Earth to Remy?” Roman asked, waving his hand in front of his face. Remy shook his head, blinking out of the daydream haze. He promptly realized that he had been aimlessly staring out the window, thinking about Emile. And that it was closing time. And that he promised Roman that they’d hang out after he was done working.

“Sorry gurl, lemme just close up and we can go to this new bar in town,” Remy replied, heading into the back to grab his things. He locked up the cash register, then flicked off the lights and walked outside, Roman following behind him. Remy locked the door to the bookstore before tucking the key in one of the pockets in his messenger bag. Roman’s car was parked out front, and once his brother unlocked the door, he slid into the front seat, putting his feet up on the dash.

“Hey, feet off the dash! Where’s this new bar at?” Roman asked. Remy rolled his eyes, but moved his legs.

“It’s just down the road, hang a right, can’t miss it,” he replied, flicking his shades over his eyes. Roman side-eyed Remy for a moment, then started the car.

“Why are you wearing those? It’s dark out,” Roman pointed out.

“Gurl, I got blinded by a smile made of sunshine today. I need these,” he huffed.

“Drama queen,” his brother muttered.

“Takes one to know one. Just drive, I’ll tell ya when we get there.”

Let's trash our whole afternoon

Reciting recycled news

Until we melt and go back to your hotel room

I'll be your new favorite tune

I'll be your black cloud by June

But only when you miss the rain like I miss you

“So in short, I am a complete disaster gay,” Remy said, once he had explained the whole saga to Roman. The two were sitting at the bar, each of them with a drink in hand.

“I thought you were pansexual?” Roman asked, a perplexed expression upon his face.

“Okay, so I’m a disaster pan. Either way, I’m a disaster,” Remy groaned, setting his drink down and burying his face in his hands. Roman regarded his brother with a curious eye, taking a sip of his drink before speaking up again.

“So… does this mean that you and Logan aren’t dating?”

“Oh. Em. Gee. As if I could stand dating that straight-laced nerd- well, not straight, he’s gay- but the point is he’s got a hell of a stick up his…” Remy trailed off at the look of relief paired with a telltale dreamy gaze in his brother’s eyes. “Holy shit, you have a crush on my best friend.”

“No! Maybe? Not important, we’re discussing your disaster pan problems,” Roman retorted. Remy opened his mouth to snap back, but his train of thought was completely derailed when he saw him out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t wearing his tie and cardigan, instead wearing a pale pink bomber jacket over his white button up, which was tucked into a pair of black skinny jeans. But it was still definitely Dr. Emile Picani, with those green eyes peering out from behind a pair of glasses.

Just double dare me

And I promise now that I'll stay

It's not like you're married but I still got carried away

“Holy shit he’s here,” Remy gasped. Roman raised an eyebrow, then followed his gaze. A wicked smirk grew over his face, and then he grabbed Remy’s arm and started dragging him over to where Emile was standing.

“What are you doing?!” Remy hissed.

“Solving your disaster pan problem,” he replied. Remy tore himself from Roman’s grip, glaring at him indignantly.

“Gurl, I can barely form coherent sentences when I see him! How’s dragging me over to him gonna solve anything?!” Remy protested, hands gesturing wildly.

“Have courage, dear brother! Speak from the heart, don’t hold anything back!” Roman declared, striking a dramatic pose. Remy rolled his eyes at his brother’s behavior, silently praying to whatever god was listening that Emile didn’t notice them.

“Oh, like you have courage when it comes to Logan?” Remy teased. Roman scowled at him for a moment, before schooling his expression.

“If I promise to talk to Logan, will you talk to Emile?” Roman offered. Remy considered for a moment, then sighed.

“Fine. But it’s-”

“Oh hi! You’re the guy from the bookstore, right?” a voice asked from behind him, and he whirled around to see none other than Emile standing there. Remy could have sworn his heart stopped when those emerald green eyes met his dark brown ones.

“Uh… yeah! What’s up, Doc?” Remy replied, laughing nervously and internally cursing his stupid disaster pan brain for not being smooth.

Hey, tell me what you want me to say

You know I'm stupid for you

Hey, can you come and come out and play?

You know I'm stupid for you

Thankfully, Emile broke down into giggles, a delighted flush coming over his face. And oh boy, if Remy wasn’t a disaster before, he definitely was now from the bubbly laughter spilling from the other man’s mouth. He could practically sense his brother’s smirk from behind him.

“Oh, you just made my day! I love cartoons,” Emile said between giggles.

“Yeah! Uh- cartoons are great!” Remy replied, desperately trying to keep his cool. “I’m Remy, by the way.”

“Emile! But I guess you already knew that, huh?” he said with a grin. That smile must have short-circuited Remy’s brain further, because the next thing out of his mouth he had no control over.

“Do you wanna dance?”

You're playing ring around my head

I wear you like a halo

You're a symphony, I'm just a sour note

I'll take what I can get

The best is hard to grip when everybody wants you

And everybody wants you

You're playing ring around my head

I wear you like a halo

You're a symphony, I'm just a sour note

I'll take what I can get

The best is hard to grip when everybody wants you

It was official, Remy was an idiot. He froze the minute the words were out of his mouth. Emile seemed to freeze as well, a deep flush spreading over his face. But then the grin returned, and when he spoke up again, Remy was about 90% sure he had died. Or was dreaming. Either way, there was no way that what was happening was real.

“Sure, I’d love to dance, Rem!” Emile chirped, grabbing Remy’s hand and pulling him to the dance floor. Okay, he was definitely dead because a gorgeously adorable man just agreed to dance with him, and he was given a nickname by said man.

The music was pounding, some pop song that Remy didn’t care to know the name of. But that didn’t matter because Emile was bopping along to the music, seemingly carefree and unaware of the hypnotic effect the sway of his hips was having on Remy and frankly anyone else in the near vicinity. He blinked and shook his head, joining in on dancing to the beat, ignoring the strange twist in his gut that he got whenever he caught someone else looking at Emile. He shouldn’t be jealous, he had just met the man today! And it wasn’t as if they had any sort of commitment to each other…

His train of thought was suddenly cut off by Emile’s hands on his hips, pulling him closer. They were practically pressed against each other as they continued to dance, and Remy was fairly certain his face was bright red. Emile seemed to take notice of this, frowning with concern as he began to pull away. Remy boldly stepped closer, and Emile’s face flashed with concern before twisting to a more confused expression.

“It’s okay, you just surprised me. What also surprised me was seeing you here in the first place,” Remy explained, and Emile gave a shy smile in response.

“I’ll admit, this isn’t usually my type of thing. But my brother, Patton, and his partner invited me out tonight… and of course, they’ve spent most of tonight making out in the corner,” Emile said over the pounding music.

“That’s lame of your brother,” Remy frowned.

“He’s really very sweet! And Virgil- that’s his partner- has been one of my best friends for a while. It’s just that he’s very gay for my brother,” Emile laughed. “But I’m glad I found you.”

Hey, tell me what you want me to stay

You know I'm stupid for you

Hey, can you come-a come out and play

You know I'm stupid for you

That was it, Emile was definitely going to be the end of Remy. Sweet and adorable, yet incredibly gorgeous and alluring. He wasn’t sure just how much more of this he could take!

“Emile- I… what’s happening?” Remy blurted. Emile grinned again, and he was fairly sure his heart was about to leap out of his chest with how fast it was beating. Emile leaned closer, and all of Remy’s thought processes seemed to cease.

“What do you want to happen?” Emile purred into his ear. On the outside, Remy seemed stock-still and silent, but on the inside he was screaming and everything was on fire. Emile pulled away to look him in the eyes, his grin having morphed into more of a playful smirk.

“I- um… well…” Remy trailed off, seemingly unable to form words. Emile’s smile became soft once more, and he wrapped his arms around Remy’s waist, his touch like tingling fire.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked sweetly. Remy’s eyes flew wide, and he barely nodded before surging forward and capturing Emile’s lips with his own.

You're playing ring around my head

I wear you like a halo

You're a symphony, I'm just a sour note

I'll take what I can get

The best is hard to grip when everybody wants you

And everybody wants you

The kiss was tantalizingly sweet, yet somehow burning hot at the same time. Remy couldn’t seem to get enough of Emile, arms wrapping around him, one hand pressing into the small of his back, while the other slid up his back, to his neck, to tangling into his soft curls. Emile made a soft sound into the kiss when Remy ran his fingers through his hair, and yup, Remy was definitely done for.

“As much as I like kissing you, don’t you think I should take you out to dinner sometime first?” Emile murmured into his mouth, once they had pulled apart to breathe.

“What if I take you to dinner first,” Remy huffed, pulling him into another kiss. Emile giggled into the kiss, and Remy found himself smiling against the other man’s mouth.

“Oh, challenge accepted,” Emile said after pulling away again.

“It’s on, babes. How about I get your number?” Remy smirked. Emile laughed, pulling away from Emile and walking away from the dance floor. There was a slight sway to his hips, which he definitely was doing on purpose, if the dazzling grin he threw Remy over his shoulder was anything to go by.

“I’m not letting you win that easy!” he shouted. Remy laughed, following after Emile.

And everybody wants you

And everybody wants you

And everybody wants you

And everybody wants you

And everybody wants you

Remy eventually got his number… but it wasn’t until the following day, when Emile showed up at the bookstore, telling Remy that he was taking him to dinner after work. The dinner date was fantastic, and if they made out in the booth at the restaurant more than actually eating… well that was their business. That date led to another date… and then another… and another… Remy couldn’t be happier. He could hardly imagine his life before Emile, and sure, he still got a little frazzled whenever Emile smiled at him, soft and adoring… but Remy wouldn’t trade that feeling for anything in the world.

General Tag List: @adorably-angsty @alix-the-skeleton @allthemetalsoftherainbow @armageddonhascome @backatthebein @bangthekobrakid @bloodropsblog @cefinitely-rolo @coffeestudylive @cosmic-chu @cyndaquil17 @dani-jeanso @didsomeonesayprince @emphoenixcat @every-day-insomniac @fandomsandanythingelse @freekiphotography @freepaperie081 @hanramz-the-fander @i-need-a-social-life-2710 @i-really-dig-the-purple @ironwoman359 @justanotherpurplebutterfly @kanejandkruge @kitsuneprideleader @kittycake574 @le2712 @littlemiracle05 @loganpatton @lollingtothemax @look-its-meme @loverofpizzaandallthingssweet @lynlinked @mewsicalmiss @midnightcandy @moonstonefox @musicsavedmefromdeath @mystrangedarkson @nightmarejasmine @not-as-smart @of-treble-and-dragons @punsterterry @purplepatton @quoth-the-sparrow @radioactivehelena @royallyanxious @ruuworld @sanders-trash-4ever @save-me-oh-dream-of-mine @shadowsfromthesun @shygirl4991 @sleepyssnail @softbludemon @softnic @sombraplayslazertag @sweetinsomniac @the-fandoms-are-takin-over @theresneverenoughfandoms @thisrandomperson102 @thuriweaver @vigilantvirgil

[miracle-in-the-eye-of-the-storm]

Sorry I’m not Perfect part III ― Plagg’s Farewell

a quick note; plagg is . . . a lot more serious in this than he’s usually portrayed. *shrug* honestly i was gonna go with “plagg gets fucking furious with adrien and tears him a new one” but . . . that route was not at all cooperating with me, so i went this way instead. i think adrien is a little ooc ― i’m not a very good judge, though, considering i’ve never really written for adrien before. anyway i hope you enjoy this chapter! wayzz is next, along with fu and nino!

“Pound it!”    The kid holds his fist out to Ladybug, grinning, but falters when she doesn’t return the familiar gesture. “My Lady?” He asks uncertainly. “Is something wrong?”    Plagg would say yes, something is indeed very wrong ― there’s been something wrong for a while now, but considering his kid won’t listen to him there isn’t much he can do about it aside from stew in disgruntled silence.   Ladybug doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stares at Adrien’s hand and then his face. The kid tries for a smile, clearly feeling awkward; “Have you finally realized how my dashing good looks make your heart pound?” The kid purrs, letting his smile turn sly.    Her face immediately closes off, and she turns away. “Two days left. Bye, Chat Noir.” She’s gone before Adrien can say anything. His fist is left hanging in the air by itself, pitiful. “I just don’t get it, Plagg!” Adrien groans later, when he’s gotten home and transformed back. “Two days left? Two days of what? Why wouldn’t she tell me anything? Why didn’t she do the fist-bump?”    Plagg, sitting by the pantry and chewing through his stash of cheese, doesn’t answer him. He doesn’t have anything to say that’s been said before, and Adrien hadn’t listened then, either. He really doubts that the kid will start listening now ― and besides, if he tried to get the kid to listen to anything, they’d just end up in another argument, and he’s tired of those. Plagg sighs quietly as Adrien keeps muttering to himself, wondering when exactly Fu will show up.    Plagg, for all his posturing, isn’t an idiot. He knows what it means when Tikki loses her cool enough to shift into Spirit form. The last time she did that was . . . he thinks it was when Joan of Arc was burned. They couldn’t interfere directly, but she still raged at the cruelty and unfairness from inside the Miracle Box. She really only takes her Spirit form when she feels like she needs to protect someone ― when they’ve tried protecting themselves and they can’t anymore. When she needs to be there for someone, and her little doll-like form isn’t enough.   He knows that the maybe-former Guardian did something to piss Tikki off ― she hasn’t had the chance to tell him about all of it yet, but he’s gotten the general gist of it from what little she could tell him at school. He felt Trixx shift into its Spirit form last night, too. If Fu doesn’t pull his head out of his ass in the next three ― now two ― days and revoke Adrien’s status as Chat Noir, there’s going to be hell to pay. For his part, Plagg won’t be the one to yell at the kid ― for one, he always shuts down when he’s yelled at, and for two, Plagg . . . Plagg still loves him too much to be able to do that. For now, he’s just waiting until the inevitable.    Which comes in the form of a knock on the door on Saturday, when Adrien’s supposed to be having Chinese lessons. Fu walks in, looking tired and old and frail, and Plagg is once again reminded how fragile humans are. Wayzz zips out of Fu’s pocket, nodding to the kid, and joins Plagg on a high shelf.    “How’s he takin’ it?” Plagg says by way of greeting. There’s a little plate piled high with cheese and vegetable crackers for him and Wayzz to snack on while the kid and Fu talk.    Wayzz sighs. “It . . . could be better. It could be worse, as well, I suppose, but―” He sighs again. “Where did we go wrong?” He asks eventually, staring down at where Fu is clearly struggling to bring up the important subject to Adrien. “Where did I go wrong, Plagg? I thought . . .”    “You thought your kid knew better,” Plagg finishes. “Yeah, same.” He tosses a piece of cheese in the air and catches it in his mouth, swallowing it whole.    Wayzz rolls his eyes heavenwards. “Right,” he says wryly. “Forgive me, I forgot how you feel the need to trivialize these things.”    “Now you listen here young whippersnapper,” Plagg snaps mockingly, pointing a paw at Wayzz and glaring. “When you get to be as old as I am, there are only three things in life that bring you joy: good cheese and nihilistic humor.” He pauses to swallow another piece of cheese. “The third is being a little shit whenever the opportunity arises.”    Wayzz huffs in exasperation, but smiles at Plagg all the same. “You’ll miss him, won’t you.” Plagg freezes for just a moment when the comment registers, then looks away with his ears pinned back. “When you have to leave him. When he has to say goodbye.”    “He’s a good kid,” Plagg says quietly, looking over to where Fu and Adrien are talking. Adrien is explaining something animatedly, his arms waving about as he leans forward. Plagg can’t see the kid’s face from here, but from Fu’s bemused expression he’s probably talking about one of his anime shows. “I know he is. A big part of why we’re not a good fit anymore is because of his stupid old man, and everyone’s aversion to healthy relationships in this house. But . . . at some point, he’s gotta recognize it himself, y’know? There’s only so much you can do when he’s not willing to change, or even see that anything needs changing in the first place.”    Wayzz nods, slowly chewing on an orange cracker. “There’s only so many options available when the only answer they’ll give is no.”    They sit in silence for a while, just . . . waiting. Waiting for the ring to be slid off Adrien’s finger. Waiting for Adrien to be heartbroken. Waiting for the “Chinese lesson” to end so they can go home ― to the Miracle Box.    “Wayzz!” Fu calls, and the Kwamis blink, looking down. Fu and Adrien have finished, apparently, but notably ― the ring is still on the kid’s finger, and Fu looks rather guilty. “It is time to go, my friend. Come along.”    “Aren’t you forgetting something, Wang?” Wayzz says quietly, gently, and yet Fu still flinches and turns away.    The kid blinks at the two of them, then turns to Fu with a little smile. “Forgetting something? Forgetting what?” Fu flinches again, harder, and seems to fold in on himself like he’s trying to hide away. Plagg doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t trust himself to not blow up if he opens his mouth. Wayzz, however, has no such scruples.    “Wang,” he says again, soft. “You made a promise.”    “Master Fu?” The kid asks, peering at Fu in concern. “Are you okay?”    Fu sighs heavily. “I . . .” He shakes his head. “My dear boy, I am so sorry.”    The kid blinks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He starts curling in on himself too when Fu reaches out with a faintly trembling hand. “Sorry? I don’t . . . . What are you sorry for?”    “You must give up your Miraculous,” Wayzz says, his voice just as gentle with Adrien as it was with Fu.    The kid stares at him, uncomprehending. “What? Why? Is something wrong?”    Fu inhales shakily. “Yes,” he says, raspy and quiet. “I’m afraid there is. Adrien, you . . .” He trails off, looking down in shame.    “Your conduct as Chat Noir is not acceptable,” Wayzz says smoothly, filling in for Fu. “We know you have done good, and we know you can do more good, but as of now your wrongs outweigh your rights. I’m sorry, Adrien, but you are no longer fit to be the Black Cat’s Chosen. You must relinquish the ring. I know this seems harsh, especially with no prior warning, but I must tell you that if you don’t let go willingly I will take your ring by force.    Adrien stares, his eyes wide and hurt, his hand clutched protectively to his chest. “I―” He glances to Plagg. “Plagg?”   Plagg shakes his head. “Don’t, kid. I love you. But you gotta let go of this, Adrien ― you gotta let go of me. This isn’t working anymore.”    “But―” Adrien shakes his head, backing away. “You can’t take this away from me ― I haven’t done anything wrong!”    “Adrien,” Fu tries.    “No!” Adrien shouts, and Plagg cringes ― this is maybe the first time he’s been glad for the adults in this house not paying any attention to the kid. “I’m ― I’m not giving this up! You can’t make me, this is too important to me!”    “Adrien,” Plagg says softly, floating over in front of him. “Listen, you have to―”    “Stop it!” Adrien snaps, his eyes going red around the edges. “Plagg, you ― I ― I need you to stop!”    Plagg freezes in the air like he’s made out of plastic. Wayzz gasps, and Fu closes his eyes. Plagg forgot what it was like to not breathe. Adrien wasn’t specific enough in his Order ― all he said was stop, so that stupid rule the magician put in interpreted it as stop everything. So Plagg has stopped everything he was doing; breathing, seeing, thinking, all of it.    “Plagg?” Adrien whispers, peering at him with wide eyes. Plagg only barely registers it. “Plagg, what are you doing? Plagg!”    “You Ordered him to stop,” Wayzz says behind Plagg, sounding deeply sad. “So he stopped.”    “What?”    “Adrien,” Fu rasps, and he sounds on the verge of tears. “You are no longer Plagg’s Chosen. You are his Master, now.”    Adrien shakes his head, laughing a little. “No I’m not. What? No, no way. Plagg wouldn’t let anyone be his master, no matter how hard they tried. Plagg, come on, this isn’t funny!”    “It doesn’t matter what Plagg would or would not allow,” Wayzz says solemnly. “What matters is that according to the rules set in by the magician who made our Miraculous, anyone who Orders their Kwami is the Master of that Kwami. That is why Nurru cannot simply leave Papillon ― he has Ordered Nurru to stay with him.”    Adrien flinches. “Plagg,” he whispers, “you can ― you can move now.”    Plagg unfreezes. He sighs. “Kid,” he says quietly. “Listen to me. Just because you won’t be Chat Noir anymore doesn’t mean that you can’t still be a hero ― that you can’t still have freedom. You just won’t have any magic to back you up.” Adrien doesn’t say anything. His arms are hanging limply by his sides. “Here, kid,” Plagg says, diving for the drawer Adrien put aside specifically for him. He comes back out with a ring, made of polished black stone. It isn’t nearly the same as the Black Cat ring, but it’s about the same size, and more importantly ― it’s a gift. Plagg hasn’t made a gift for anyone ― hasn’t had the chance to make a gift for anyone ― in years. Centuries. “Keep this,” Plagg says as he presses it into Adrien’s hand. “And remember that you’re just as much a hero in your own right. You won’t ― don’t ― always need me.”    Adrien stares at it for a long moment. Then he slowly slides off the Black Cat ring and hands it to Plagg. “Thanks, Plagg,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I―” He cuts himself off, eyes brimming with tears.    “I know, kid,” Plagg says softly. For a long moment, he can only float there and watch Adrien put the ring on, wiping at his eyes. But eventually, the moment has to end. “Goodbye, kid.” Adrien blinks at him, tears hanging off his eyelashes. Plagg hugs his forehead, exhaling shakily. “Bye, Adrien.”

[amandaelisablog]

A RANT THAT IS TMI

I need to vent because life gets heavy sometimes and it’s hard to be alone in your mind with these things. I’ve found that doing this gives me an outlet and hopefully finding others who feel as I do. So back in November I had a work injury and forgot to send in a report about it. I didn’t have insurance at the time due to how expensive it was which sucks because you get a penalty charge on your taxes for being uninsured. It’s an unfair thing to the hardworking folks who put in time for crap pay and even work under poor conditions or strenuous physical demands. Having your government say, hey you work, you pay your taxes but you fucked up by not being able to pay for insurance. Anyway, so I got through the whole process to get this checked out, find that it’s a sprain in my knee that hasn’t healed since November, it’s now March. They pay for the urgent care visit, the sports injury doctor, the MRI proving the injury and then deny the claim for physical therapy because I didn’t report it when it happened. What was the point of going through all of this for three months if you knew this and still paid for those tests? Not only that but my company told the worker comp that they called the family I work for (I’m a care provider for people with disabilities) and said that the family said they didn’t know anything about it. It’s all bullshit because the day it happened I told the parents, plus me and the mom are very close and she would have told me right away if someone had called her. She doesn’t hide or keep things from me, she considers me family.

It has put a bad taste in my mouth over my company and the way they deal with things like this. I am a hard worker, I even stayed that day on two twisted ankles, a messed up knee, hip and arm. I was there 8 hours and couldn’t do much with the child I work for due to all the pain I was in, so our activities were floor or table based. On normal days we play and work on habilitation which can be physically demanding and that wasn’t possible. So now after all of that I still have a messed up knee and three months of wasted time. If I had known that this was going to be the outcome of this I would have used my insurance, though I didn’t learn of this insurance until after I started the claim process. It had been active since December which would have been nice to know but again what can you expect from the way that Arizona department services are run.

If the can get out of spending any money on a person they will find a way, which is what Copper Pointe did, it was easy for them to deny it and for my company to throw it and lie about doing a more in depth search on my claims. I am a truly honest person and find that there isn’t a reason to lie about things, especially something like this. The only reason I had informed my manager was to find some information on what happens if I were to have surgery on my knee due to the extreme pain, as well as others in my life who had the exact same pain in that area. I wanted to know if they offered any kind of time off. I like to cover every base I can in order to avoid losing out on pay. I barely make it every month and each month is so anxiety inducing. If it came down to missing work for this or just living with it I would have just left it alone. This is how the world works and it’s your word against those of higher power. You will always be in the wrong because they get final say.

My second issue is this. Since I just got insurance I’ve established a PCP, OBGYN etc. First of all my PCP is making it real easy for me to drop her and find someone else with more consideration. I take medications for anxiety, depression and a mood disorder, which they can’t decide is bipolar or not. I need them badly and after a few days the effects are obvious. Pretty soon it will be hard for me to drive or get out of bed. My mood is very manic as I go through these cycles, it so disorientating and damaging to my job if it happens then. I still have to work and it’s hard, so hard. How the hell am I supposed to even get to work if I can’t drive a straight line or keep the fogginess at bay?

Anyways, so she told me any times since seeing her she would refill these medications. I even brought a paper from a free clinic I had been going to. It had all the information they needed in order to record this and the phone number to the place to verify. Two different people took this information down. The front desk girl took the paper and wrote it down as well as the doctor’s assistant who I watched type every single one into my file on the computer. I was there 7 days ago and told her I needed them refilled since I had one more left of each of them. She said she would send them out that day. I waited and waited but never got the text from my pharmacy saying they were filled so I called the pharmacy thinking maybe they didn’t send it yet. They had no record of it being sent over.

So called my doctor’s office and the girl I spoke to seemed like she didn’t know anything. I explained to her three times the situation and she claimed she couldn’t find any record of these medications, the ones I made sure to give them straight away to avoid this. I called every day since and still nothing, after the third day she magically found the medications and was waiting for doctor approval and for the quantity and mg, which had given the second day calling. I even called today and got the same damn thing from when I first called. I’ve been out of medications for about five days and feel like shit. It has really made me feel as though I made the wrong choice in a provider. I am considering finding someone different who will take things seriously and do their job. Luckily the family I work for is on vacation and I have this time to be in this depressed anxious state.

The last thing on my list here and this is going to get personal, a lot of tmi. I went to my new OBGYN and did all the fun tests you get to do that are both uncomfortable and awkward. After all the tests the doctor sat down with me and said matter of fact, you guys don’t plan on having kids I see. I was taken aback by this because we do plan on having kids just not right now as our money situation isn’t the best. I told her this and she look at me with concern and I didn’t understand what was going on. She explained to me that due to my age, weight and birth control that this factors are working against us conceiving. That was a huge punch to the gut and I wasn’t expecting to hear that. So she hooked me up with this woman who is helping me to lose weight and I’ve lost 6 so far which is a great feeling. But due to this whole business with my meds I am having a hard time not falling back to eating to fill that void. So far I haven’t but I want to.

Anyway, so I had another problem that had to be checked. This is where it gets personal. I got my nips pierced a few years ago, after a year they got infected, did the whole antibiotics thing and it seemed to have gone away. But about a year or so ago I started feeling pain and something hard inside of it. Because I didn’t have insurance it been a struggle to deal with this. On the pain scale it’s about a 7 to 8 some days. The doc didn’t find anything upon inspection but decided to send me to get an ultrasound. So did that and they found an abnormality inside? Just think if she hadn’t sent me and it got worse. I got sent to a specialist who gave me three options, 1 was to leave it alone, 2 was antibiotics and the last option is removing the damaged tissue, which is last because it’s the worst one on the list. So I’m on antibiotics for two weeks then I wait 3 months to make sure it’s gone before we visit the last option. So this is the last option, we remove the damaged tissue which will cause the nerves inside to die and cause the nip to cave in making it an unusable source of feeding a baby.

This all happened within two weeks and its weighing heavy on me. This is where I feel the most alone; no one knows or can understand this feeling I have. It feels like some kind of punishment from the universe or something. To know that I might not be able to have kids but even if I do I basically have a shutdown boob. I’m very old school and feel as though breastfeeding creates a bond with mother and child, it’s important. But it feels as though all my dreams are dashed and the only thing I can do is sit and watch. I’m trying though, to at least lose weight, this has been a great motivator for me to get on the ball. But who can say if this one thing will help in the end? I’m 30 which isn’t old but it is a concern, due to the fact that we might not even start until our mid to late 30s.

“The miscarriage rate is 11.7 percent. By age 30 your risk of having a baby with Down syndrome is 1 in 952, and a baby with any chromosomal abnormality, 1 in 385.” – parenting.com How can I do that to a child? Knowing this is a possibility? Now before you get all uppity there isn’t anything wrong with down syndrome or anything but with the knowledge I have on this how can I be selfish and not give my child a chance of being born healthy? This study is just for age 30, but considering when we decide to have children it probably won’t be until after 35 if that.

“This is the age when your doctor might recommend amniocentesis or some other prenatal screening—which for many women is anxiety-provoking while they await results—because the risks of having a baby with Down syndrome or another type of chromosomal disorder begin to rise significantly.” – parenting.com.

“The miscarriage rate rises after age 35 to close to 18 percent. Rates of stillbirths are about twice as high among older pregnant women than younger ones, according to recent studies, although the reasons are unknown.” – parenting.com

The above are my concerns and at that point do I even take that risk? I get tired of hear people say, well so and so had a healthy baby at 45. Good for her, but all woman’s bodies are different and you can’t base my situation on someone else. Based on my own body I feel like there is a greater chance of the above happening.

It’s been hard to accept this as a possible reality considering I’ve found a man I love who I want to have children with and grow old with. Before him I was so afraid to have children due to my upbringing with a destructive parental unit. I didn’t want to end up like my mother because I can see a lot of similarities in us that scare me.

Age is a big problem for me mainly because I don’t want to be too old to enjoy my children. I want that time when I’m still able to play with them and be involved and not be in my 60s when they are my age. I wish I had children in my 20s. You know how old my mom is right now? She’s 50! She’s young still and I’m 30 we are 20 years apart and she looks young, people used to think she was my older sister, not in that cheesy way but even at school functions they’d ask where our parents were.

So that’s been my past 2 weeks and it feels good to get some of this out.

[littlecomma]

Growth

I made a big decision today. As my husband put it, it was "a huge level of growth" for me.

I decided to stay at my current employer, despite an opportunity at another company with a much higher pay.

Some folks are going to read that sentence and do a double-take. They may not think that I made the right choice. Others may agree with my decision. But the truth is that it doesn't matter because it was my decision. I did not make the decision out of fear or guilt, though those feelings visited at one point or another. And I did not make the decision without consideration for myself. I went to the interview at the nice, corporate ladder firm with a surprisingly lax dress code. I even went back for a followup. I talked with my manager and our boss. And then I weighed my options and made a decision about what is important to me.

Did I feel guilty for considering the other position? At first. But there were a couple things that helped. One was that this was a rare chance of an email appearing in my inbox and catching my eye (thank you LinkedIn). But the more important factor was that if you don't take care of yourself, how can you expect to succeed outside of yourself? In other words, I’m learning to put myself first.

Financially, the other place would have offered me plenty more money. And perhaps I could have been happy there. After getting through the training to be at a new company, maybe I would have settled in and loved it. I definitely thought the people I met there were nice and that we would have gotten along. My instinct, however, was that this wasn’t the place I wanted to go to.

Parts of me were scared of change and part of it was a fear that I would just be jumping on the first train that came along and miss the one going where I wanted to be. So I looked at those parts of me and I said “hold on” and I put them aside. I thought “what’s really scary? And if I don’t like it, it’s not like I have to stay. I have the right to choose.“

Aha - there it is. The right to choose - to choose my own path, my own desires, and to choose what I place importance on.

I didn’t get excited at the prospect of being at the new company during my interviews. The people were pleasant, and the interviews went well, but I didn’t feel a sense of belonging. I was exactly what they were looking for, but were they what I was looking for? I just didn’t feel it. I didn’t feel any sense of belonging. Perhaps that sounds like I expect an epiphany - the aha! moment - at every place where I would do well, but that isn’t what I mean.

We all have some level of instinct; a gut reaction that tells you to fight or take flight. Even in an interview, there is an instinct about whether you’ll appreciate the environment or like the work. For some people, it doesn’t matter as long as they get paid the wage they want or hold the right title. But for me, environment is very important. I thought it was on par with finances, but I soon realized that environment, for me, is just a bit heavier on the scale. It also has a different definition than some people would use when it comes to a place of employment.

Definition of Environment: the circumstances, objects, or conditions by which one is surrounded.

I define a working environment not solely by the arrangement of the desks and lighting, but by the people and the management style, by the attitudes and by the general atmosphere. My definition includes flexibility, work/life balance, and even character. It encompasses everything with which I would have to interact daily externally and internally. Yes, that’s right: internally; I include myself in my environment.

I used to not include myself. You may recall the company that taught me “stress is a killer and anxiety is its weapon.” The memory of how I felt in my final weeks there still hurts sometimes. I remember the visions I had, the thoughts on the “easy” ways out. But I loved the people so much that I felt badly for leaving, even though I had to. The environment there was nice... when you looked at the physical environment and before you factored in the management and the workload, and then blended them together with my own mental reality. After that, it turned out to be the wrong environment (at least for me).

Where I work now has its flaws. There is no denying that; but what company, let alone individual, is perfect? However, what they do have is a select few people who have good instincts and have experienced similar types of stress. It lends itself to improved, albeit not perfect, management for someone like myself. It means that, within two weeks of being there, I had a manager who could already recognize symptoms of stress in me and who reminded me to stop, think, and prioritize to reduce that stress and, in turn, become more efficient.

They are also practical. When we discussed the fact that I was interviewing, they never once exclaimed “how could you,” though they expressed their concerns with losing me. They only asked that if I decided leaving was what I needed to do, that I give as much notice as I could, then explained why they would rather keep me around. It was kind and encouraging. They did also make me an offer to keep me around, which helps financially given that I make less than I used to, but more than that, they made me an offer to communicate and grow together, to build a career around what I want instead of training me to fit in some box. That may not be unique to this company (in fact, I know it’s not), but their willingness to work towards positive change is comforting and even refreshing.

The environment where I work is not one of a high-paying job on a corporate-style ladder. The environment where I work is practical and logical, with just a hint of emotion, a scoop of empathy, a dash of professional attire, and a sometimes-hidden piece of heart. The physical environment isn’t very open or bright, but it’s going to be changing before the year is out and it doesn’t prevent socialization. There is still plenty of stress and sufficient deadlines to meet. And, in some regards, it’s nothing special... but for that sometimes-hidden piece of heart. Only a few folks have shown a glimpse of that heart to me, but it’s enough.

After considering all of this, among other things, I finally decided to stay where I’m at. The incentives help make it something I can stick with longer, but I also realized that I’m not ready to leave, yet.

The environment where I work can be described as: human.

It’s not perfect. Sometimes it’s hard to deal with. Sometimes it feels unfair. Sometimes it seems perfect. And sometimes it is perfect in all its imperfections.

But in this environment, I am not just some robot. We may not always feel it, but in those moments where we laugh or cry or even huff in frustration, we are not alone, either. I’m not sure if there is a better way to put it, but my gut tells me I’m not done here. I don’t know if I will contribute to improving this place according to the imaginations of myself or my coworkers, but I sense that I have more to learn. And now that I’ve taken the time to actually commit these thoughts to text, I realize: I’m actually looking forward to the future. It’s still scary and stressful, but I’m interested to see how things go from here.