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ineloqueent · 4 years

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Starstruck: Part 7

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 7 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 6 / Part 8

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.

Warnings: swearing, drinking, angst

Historical Inaccuracies: none that I can think of!

Word Count: 4.3k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

The sun made you wonder. Made you wonder why it was shining in the first place. How wretched of it to shine so prettily when you felt so miserable.

It was a misery too out of reach to be pacified, for it was not the obvious sort, the kind in which you cry and shudder and feel like you’re suffocating. This was the kind of miserable in which you mope, staring out the window in a daze, and the only thing you are aware of is the frown on your lips; you opt for bitterness with every word and thought. This is the miserable where you feel detached and lost, like you exist in one universe and your feelings in a neighbouring dimension.

Brian hadn’t spoken to you for over a week.

It had rained every day since.

When classes had resumed the following Monday, Brian didn’t smile at you when you chanced a ‘good morning’. He merely pressed his lips together and ducked beneath his curls. That was how you knew he was avoiding you.

On Tuesday, Brian failed Carmichael’s test. This you knew because he ripped it in half as he stormed out of the door, following the lecture And he was glowering. You’d never thought that timid Brian could even have the ability to glower.

On Wednesday afternoon, Deacy called you.

“I was wondering if you’d like to join me and Rog for tea today?”

You bit your lip slowly. “Just you and Rog?”

“Yep!” he said. “I’ve told you that Veronica’s just gone up to see her parents for a couple of days, and that I’m working so she thought it best for me to stay behind, haven’t I?”

“Yes, you’ve told me,” you replied. “And Heather went with her.” Heather and Veronica had grown up in the same town, and so Heather, behind due to visit her own parents, had boarded the train with Ronnie.

“Oh, yes.” John paused, then asked hesitantly, “Are… are you okay with just me and Roger, for tea I mean?”

You breathed quietly in relief.

“Y/N? Who are you avoiding? You haven’t fallen out with Heather, have you?”

“Oh, no no,” you assured him.

“With Veronica, then? Surely not.”

“No, Deacy, she’s lovely.”

“She likes you too. You get along well. Maybe you should go shopping together or something sometime,” he babbled.

“Yeah,” you answered distractedly.

“Well, you have our number. And you know you’re always welcome over.”

“Thanks, Deacy—”

But Deacy was still trying to work out who it was you were supposedly at odds with. “Not Roger!” he cried. “That’s why you’re not sure about lunch. You and Roger are arguing, aren’t you?”

“No, Roger and I are fine, John.”

“Oh, good,” he sighed. “I was worried for a moment. And I’ve already had to diffuse so many fights this week, in the band, y’know.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he sighed, “you wouldn’t believe it. So many. It’s like cats and dogs at the moment. Not sure why. Yelling and throwing various instrumental gear. Drumsticks, microphone stands, cables… clumsily. Almost an amp, yesterday.”

You winced, “That sounds, uh, violent?”

“Actually,” he considered, meanwhile you pondered the reason he was jabbering nineteen a dozen, “they’ve all sort of been started by… Oh dear.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, Y/N, dear,” he said in a pitiful tone. “You’re avoiding Brian.”

“Am not!” you exclaimed.

“Are you not?” He sounded genuinely surprised this time.

“If anything, he’s avoiding me,” you grumbled, because at this point, Brian deliberately turned his head away when you passed him in the mornings. He seemed so pained by your presence that wondered if perhaps there was something more to the death of his aunt, if you had unknowingly poured salt on a second wound.

“Well…” began Deacy, seemingly at a loss. “Well, why, if you don’t mind me asking?”

You rubbed your eyes tiredly. You’d not been sleeping well for the past few nights, awake and alone with your pestering thoughts. “I asked where he’d been, when he disappeared off to god knows where the other week.”

John’s puzzlement was apparent. “And?” he said.

“And nothing. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“That’s terribly odd, Y/N. I asked. We all asked. He said he’d been up to visit his parents when they lost power in a storm. Whole phone lines came crashing down, apparently. Too much of a mess to get any sort of communication through to anywhere, and he figured we wouldn’t worry badly.”

You shook your head, then remembered that you were on the phone. “That can’t be true, Deacy. And even if it were, we did worry, remember?”

“I suppose we did worry,” Deacy conceded. “But what do you mean, that can’t be true? Did he not tell you the same thing?”

The air gasped from your lungs.

He hadn’t told anyone.

Except you.

“No, Deacy,” you said. “He— he said… His aunt died.”

“What?”

“His aunt died.”

“Yes, I heard you, Y/N, but… He lied to us?”

“Or he didn’t tell you the whole truth,” you suggested. It was something you did often; you didn’t like to lie, but naturally, you didn’t want everyone to know everything.

“I suppose. That’s just so terribly unlike Brian,” John said concernedly. “He doesn’t like lying.”

“Um… who do you know that actively enjoys lying?”

“Oh, Freddie’s near-pathological,” Deacy said off-handedly. “But Brian’s got more of a moral compass than I have!”

“That’s slightly concerning…” you remarked. “So, how is Freddie?”

“I talked to him and he said he was well,” Deacy related, “but now I’m not so sure. He’s seemed a bit off lately. Something to do with Mary, I think.”

You frowned. “Yeah, I think something’s wrong.”

Deacy sighed. “I’m beginning to think the only people who are okay are Veronica and myself.”

“Roger isn’t okay?”

“He’s usually the person Brian takes his temper out on.”

“Oh.”

“Tell you what,” said Deacy, “come to tea at mine at seven tonight and we’ll talk more then. I imagine you’ve got lectures to get to.”

“Just finished with the last one for today, but some studying wouldn’t hurt,” you replied. “I’ll see you at seven.”

“Okay, see you at seven. Bye bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Deacy.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You spent the rest of the afternoon studying. Or rather, you tried to study. The formulas and theories and diagrams mostly swirled across your page today, as much a spiral galaxy as the Milky Way. You speculated your lack of sleep and your lack of water could be the cause. Or maybe your lack of interaction with other humans. No Heather, no Freddie, no Roger, barely John. And no Brian. It was a wonder you’d not yet become a total hermit.

At six thirty you threw on your scarf and coat and went out the door, a bottle of wine in one hand.

At six thirty-two, you had boarded the tube and remembered that the scarf wasn’t actually your own. It was the rainbow scarf. You nestled your face into the wool and fibres tickled the tip of your nose, subtle scents of coffee and lilies shrouding you in their homely warmth.

You missed the owner of that scarf.

At seven precisely, you rang the Deacon-Tetzlaff doorbell.

The door swung open and John Deacon beamed at you. “Ah, Y/N! You’ve made it to my little party.”

“Careful, Deacy,” you admonished, “you’re beginning to sound an awful lot like those old film villains.”

“I think I’ll need more evidence than that,” Deacy kissed your cheek in greeting. You returned the gesture and went on inside, offering the wine bottle which he accepted cheerily. He was just closing the door when there came a shout from the street.

“Hold the door, will you, Deacy?”

Roger had arrived, dressed extravagantly in a fur coat and thin, orange-tinted sunglasses.

“Bit over the top for tea at mine, Roggie?” Deacy laughed.

You nodded to Roger’s sunglasses. “Surely those aren’t necessary.”

“They just complete the look. And honestly, you two are daft. Coat’s for warmth. It’s bloody well snowing.”

“Snowing?” you and Deacy repeated, leaning out the door.

Roger was right; little flakes fluttered down from the dappled grey sky, dusting his hair, and now yours as well.

“And so it is,” John said with another laugh. You held out your hand and let the glittery while specks fall into your palm. Despite your love for warmth, you liked snow. It was like catching stardust.

“Brimi would love that analogy,” Roger kissed your cheek as well, and you realised that you’d spoken aloud. You swallowed, settling your features back into a mask of nonchalance.

“He wouldn’t love that fur coat, though,” you tapped Roger’s sleeve.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” grumbled Roger.

“At the moment, he doesn’t love much at all, really,” Deacy remarked as he shut the door when you were all inside.

“Yes,” Roger echoed the sentiment, “can we discuss that? He’s a right bore.”

“More than usual?” John joked.

“God, yes. Thinking of throwing my bloody hi-hat at him next time.”

“He didn’t get the message from the drumsticks?”

“Apparently not. Went past his house this afternoon. He’s still moping.”

You tried not to think about the fact that you were the reason why Brian was moping. Meanwhile, John and Roger bantered on as you hung up your coat and— and the scarf.

You missed the majority of the conversation, having drifted into the abyss of your own thoughts once more. It was becoming a bad habit.

“Champagne? Oh, perfect!” John was saying. You’d reached the kitchen. “And it’s Moët et Chandon, too. Fred would be proud of you.”

“Funny, it was actually his idea,” Roger mused, closing his sunglasses around the collar of his shirt.

Deacy’s eyes widened as he pulled a tray from the oven. “Freddie better not have suggested anything else.”

Roger raised his eyebrows. “What would he have suggested, John?”

You wondered whether Roger was alluding to Freddie’s dampened temperament of the past many days, his tearfulness on the floor of a public bathroom, his obvious discomfort when you spoke of Mary.

Deacy waved an oven mitt and squinted through the steam that rose from the loaf of bread he had pulled from the oven.

“Deacy?” you said when the latter did not answer.

“Food’s ready!” he said brightly, and you all gathered around the kitchen table, Roger’s question forgotten.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

You’d eaten your fill of John’s homemade risotto and bread, which was quite a large portion. Deacy was an excellent cook, in contrast with the likes of Freddie and Roger, neither of whom knew how to boil an egg.

“That was lovely, Deacy,” you said, positioning your knife and fork at twenty-past four.

“Agreed,” Roger nodded from beside you. “I’d ask you to give me the recipe,” he addressed Deacy, “but you know I can’t cook.”

“Oh, yes, we all know, Roger,” John sniggered.

“Freddie can’t cook either,” Roger pointed out petulantly, as though this made up for his own downfalls as a twenty-four-year-old who had moved away from home without learning certain basics.

“So, why are we here, Deacs?” you said.

“Mm,” said Roger. “You never call meetings, John. That’s always Freddie. And if it was about Queen, you would have actually invited the other two idiots over. Not Cinderella, here,” he elbowed you in the ribs.

“Ow!” you yelped. “Better Cinderella than an idiot, though.”

Roger narrowed his eyes at you. “Then dress the part. Otherwise I’ll have to take back the title.”

“Dress… in cinders and dirt, like you have?”

“This is an expensive shirt!”

“Hey!” Deacy interjected, but you and Roger only paid attention after he stood and tapped his knife to his wine glass.

You looked at Roger and grinned. Roger waggled his eyebrows; he had the same idea. You took a breath—

“Speech! Speech! Speech!” you cried together.

Deacy rolled his eyes. “How I put up with any of you is a wonder. Might as well not tell you, now.” He made to sit down.

“Well, I wanna hear it,” Roger pouted.

“Yeah, go on Deacy,” you patted his side of the table.

He tried not to smile, but he couldn’t. He glanced down at the tablecloth instead, adjusted the cutlery on his plate with two fingers, then inhaled slowly.

“You’re not dying, are you?” said Roger. You elbowed him to shut him up.

“Right then,” Deacy straightened up. “Y/N, Roger,” he toasted you each with his glass and you smiled back bemusedly. He paused for dramatic effect. Then, “Ronnie’s pregnant!”

Your mouth fell open.

“Oh, Deacy, you sly bastard,” Roger stood and clapped his friend on the back.

Deacy rolled his eyes again, but he was still beaming.

“John, that’s wonderful!” you said. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Deacy replied, pleased as punch. “Freddie and Brian found out by accident, and they were both busy tonight anyway, and I wanted to tell you before Veronica came back because she was going up to tell her parents,” he gushed, “and by then Freddie wouldn’t have been able to keep the surprise a surprise anymore.” Deacy practically shone, he was truly so happy. You couldn’t imagine more of a family man than John Deacon would be. He doted on Veronica and would dote upon his children even more.

Roger suddenly laughed, and you and Deacy looked at him. “Now I get it,” he said.

“Get what, Rog?”

“The champagne.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Thursday, you woke up with a violent headache. You had definitely overdone the champagne last night.

You rolled over to turn off your alarm clock, but instead rolled over the edge of a sofa.

And kicked Roger Taylor in the face.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N,” Roger groaned, pulling his fur coat up over his face. He had used it as a blanket for the night, rejecting Deacy’s offer of actual bedding. “If you wanted to sleep on the floor, you could just have said so, not kicked me awake to take my spot.”

“I was perfectly fine with the sofa, thanks,” you mumbled, rubbing your temples.

Roger sat up blearily. “God, what a headache,” he complained.

You nodded in agreement, your eyes screwed shut.

“Good morning!” John appeared in the doorway to the living room.

“Shhhhh,” Roger hummed.

“Not my fault you never learnt to be responsible,” Deacy shrugged. “Can I interest anyone in coffee?”

“May I order some silence?” you asked. “And a black coffee, please.”

“On my way,” Deacy left for the kitchen.

“Yes please, I’ll have a cup,” Roger called hoarsely after Deacy. “With one and three-sevenths sugars.”

“One black, one with one sugar?” John called back.

“One and three-sevenths sugars, please.”

“Three sugars, Rog?”

“No, one and three-sevenths.”

“Seven sugars?!”

“DEACY. One and three-sevenths!”

Laughter trickled through the kitchen door. “I’m just winding you up, Roger,” Deacy returned to the living room.

Roger sighed. “Well, thank god. I was beginning to rethink our friendship. You should know how I take my coffee.”

“We’re not married, Rog. And if you really felt so fondly about me, you should have told me so before I took my girlfriend to bed sometime last year.”

“Which was far too long ago.” Roger took his mug of coffee when Deacy offered it to him. “You take a long time to fall in love with, Deacs. Couldn’t possibly have beaten Ronnie to that chase.”

“Speaking of rethinking our friendship…” John muttered.

After finishing your coffee, you swore at the time the clock on Deacy’s mantlepiece displayed, made your apologies, and rushed off to your morning lecture.

And still Brian would not even look at you.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

At nine o’clock that night, you sat down in your armchair by the fireplace and made two phone calls.

First, you called your mum.

Then you called Brian, who had neglected to turn up for the evening’s derivatives-and-guitar session.

Three guesses as to who took your call and who did not.

You went to bed soon after that, but sleep would not draw you away until two hours past midnight.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

On Friday evening, two of your housemates decided to get shit-faced. As Heather and Roger had taken up residency in your room, you decided to join in the getting-shit-faced.

Joan and Paulie were waiting for you in the kitchen and cheered when you entered.

“Our favourite Y/N!” Paulie hugged you, and Joan grinned from where she sat atop the kitchen counter, already holding a poured drink.

“What’s the occasion?” you asked. But this was apparently the wrong question, because Paulie’s bright eyes turned suddenly tearful.

Joan hopped down from the counter and wrapped an arm around Paulie’s shoulder.

“Just some hypocrite called Paulie a slag,” Joan sipped her drink. “Now we’re celebrating the fact that little Pauline here packed her first punch, eh, sweetheart?”

Paulie blushed crimson, and it was clear that she was not on her first drink either.

She turned to you, “What’ve you come to celebrate, Y/N?”

You laughed bitterly. “Perhaps my wasted heart.”

“It’ll be a large drink, then?”

You nodded, and Paulie frowned sympathetically. Joan stuck you a glass, filling it to the brim with alcohol.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

It was midnight, but tonight, there was no magic in the hour.

You sat in the window seat and leaned your head against the wood of the window frame.

The heating was broken and it was raining ice outdoors. Sleet. Yes, that was what it was called. Your muddled brain struggled to keep up with your racing heart.

You’d left Joan and Paulie in the kitchen, because the thing about Joan and Paulie was that they were mad for each other, though they appeared to be the only two people in the world who were blind to the phenomenon. Tonight, however, they’d made some discoveries regarding that area of their lives. They’d stopped drinking early on and had begun snogging instead, so you’d taken a bottle of mulled wine with you to the window seat and now sat drinking alone in the darkness.

Or perhaps the darkness was what you were drinking, and what was drinking you.

From the cinema next door to the house, you could vaguely hear laughter, and the smell of popcorn lightly permeated the air that drifted in through your open window. It was no longer raining, and the sky with its spatter of stars was once more dimly visible above the silhouettes of London in the nighttime. The mulled wine was made of elderflower and blackberries, and it had heated your cheeks and filled your head with poetry and your eyes with a mist.

Swirling the wine in your glass, you imagined this was what it would be like to live on the cusp between tragedy and comedy in a Shakespearian work.

“Doubt thou the stars are fire,” slipped the words of Hamlet from your lips, “doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love.”

You sighed and wished for the night to grow day as you stared out the window, searching for planets and solar systems you knew very well could not be found by the naked eye.

The rainbow scarf warmed your skin.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Saturday, as went without saying, was characterised by a fierce headache. Again.

And with Sunday came the Sunday Blues.

Well, really, you’d had the All-Week Blues, but Sunday did not care about this; you could now add the coming week of studying and assessments to your list of worries.

You listened to Freddie’s records and mindlessly memorised every word, every line. The music was your anchor, as it had always been. But it was now more so than ever.

You hated feeling worthless, but there was nothing you could do to not feel so.

Freddie and Roger and Deacy and Brian, they had each other. They wouldn’t have missed you, you told yourself, and it was only fuel to fire that Freddie did not trust you enough to tell you what it was that was going on with him. Then there was Heather, and Heather had Roger. And then Joan— Joan had Paulie. And Kate’s friends were Amélie and Jenny. No one was yours alone.

No one was yours at all.

And the fact that Brian May so actively avoided you just proved it all— who needs you?

Who needs you, it was in his lowered eyes.

Who needs you, it was in his silence.

Who needs you, it was in your head.

It was all only in your head. But sometimes, it was difficult to discern the world from your head.

So you picked up your guitar to prove your head, the world, wrong.

The strings stung your skin, and the memory of gentle smiles ghosted along your pulse where fingers had once applied their tender touch.

Your misery rose a wave and crashed as anger.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

Two more weeks cycled past on bell-less bicycles; they passed utterly without consequence.

February had yielded March, and snow had melted to an incessant rain. But the rain fostered new leaves and flowers, and turned London to all the colours of the rainbow in the glory of Spring.

It would have been pleasant, to leave classes and hurry through warm, sprinkling rain and spots of sunshine, for but the claustrophobia that the gaze of a tall and blushing young man provided you with, in every waking hour of your life, whether in person or by way of imagination.

You waited for everyone else to enter the lecture hall, hanging back so that you would be the last.

When the final dawdler had passed into the hall, you approached Brian, who, of course, was holding the door.

“Bri,” you began gently, willing him to look at you. He didn’t. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve already said that.” He radiated hostility, but you felt uplifted by the fact that he’d acknowledged you at all.

“I know. But I meant it. And I mean it.”

His eyes flicked over you. “We’re going to be late.”

He let go of the door.

You grasped the handle before the frame could smack you in the face. The edges of your patience were tampered with by his gaze; they had now become short and sharp.

If he was going to behave so pettily, then you would stoop to his level.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

It began as stealing Carmichael’s questions before Brian could answer them.

Then it was politely saying ‘good morning’ to everyone you encountered, except Brian.

Then you temporarily overcame your hatred for mornings in order to arrive at the lectures early, before Brian. You held the door for everyone. Until he arrived. Then you let go and went inside.

On the third morning that this occurred, Brian glared at you and you sneered back.

How quickly you had gone from friends to… to rivals was slightly disconcerting.

Freddie seemed to think so too. He invited you to rehearsal one evening, and though you clenched your jaw at having to be in the same room as Brian Harold “Petty” May, Freddie begged and pleaded and wore you down.

But when you arrived at one of Imperial College’s unused lecture halls that evening, Brian was the first person you saw, and at the sour twist of his lips, you huffed and stormed back out the door.

Freddie and John were calling after you, and you vaguely heard Roger ask Brian what the hell was wrong with him. Yet, you kept walking.

And then you ran.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

I’d had it with Brian. I really had.

So caught up in that bloody head of his, and for what? What had Y/N even said? What could have been so bad? She, like the rest of us, had naturally been worried by Brian’s disappearance, and he owed it to us, to her, to let us know that he had been at least physically all right.

I’d gotten it out of Deacs that Brian had lied to us about where he was the other week, and I’d been furious— how could he lie to us? Brian never lied.

I’d been good and well ready to knock him about a bit, that was what I’d been, and I had threatened to do just so, before Freddie materialised, as he often did, and pushed me back onto the drum stool before I could go anywhere. He demanded to know why I was so pissed off, and John explained.

Freddie frowned. “Yes, that is rather unlike him. And he’s utterly miffed, constantly. Looks about as cross as a cat caught in a rainstorm. Has done for fucking weeks.”

“Yes…” John folded his arms over his bass. “It’s got to stop. We’re not getting anything done.”

“We need to start working on the next album, and with him in this state, he won’t write anything of use,” said Freddie in agreement. “His muse is sadness, not anger.”

“That makes one of us,” I grumbled. “Gimme his guitar and I’ll write you a song, right here and now.”

“I would, darling,” Freddie sighed, “except that you’d probably destroy it, and you know he never lets it out of his sight anyway.”

“Hmph.”

Deacy ran a hand through his hair. “We have to intervene.”

“Mm,” said Freddie. “There’s only room in this band for one hysterical queen.”

“Any ideas?” Deacy asked. “Freddie?”

“Not a thing, dearie. Got enough troubles of my own, right now.”

“Rog?”

I was about to shake my head, no, when I remembered a trick I’d pulled on two of my mates back in school, years ago.

I smiled. “Oh yes. I’ve got a plan.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: I definitely wrote Joan and Paulie to resemble John Lennon and Paul McCartney, oops :)

taglist: @melting-obelisks @hgmercury39 @stardust-killer-queen @topsecretdeacon

Masterpost / Part 6 / Part 8

#tina’s writing #starstruck #brian may #brian may x reader #brian may x y/n #brian may x you #queen #freddie mercury #roger taylor #john deacon #queen fanfiction #1975 #1970s #fic

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mchalowitz · 4 years

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the process by which time passes

REPOST. you guys. @lilydalexf is the true mvp of this saga. she happened to have the story still open and was kind enough to send it to me. i owe her so much gratitude (as well as the other amazing xf bloggers that reached out to me). although i don’t interact much socially around here, it is amazing to be a part of a fandom that is so kind and supportive! writing xf fic is a creative outlet i enjoy so much and i love sharing it. now back to our regularly scheduled reading. (also if you guys wouldn’t mind boosting this new version so i can see the feedback, i would be so grateful.)

this is something i’ve been writing (at this point) for probably almost a year, which is one reason i’ve been pretty quiet on the fic-posting front. i’m so excited for everyone to finally see it but terrified at the idea that it’s not just an idea that only i know about anymore. it was originally the back half of a wip i abandoned but i couldn’t let this part go. enjoy!!

Mulder gives her a tight hug on the side of a desert highway. Scully presses her forehead to his chest, hoping her thoughts might leave her mind, reach his heart, and convince him to stay. He still gets in the SUV and she never sees him again.

In true Fox Mulder fashion, his physical presence isn’t needed to be a constant reminder. Government officials that she once exchanged pleasantries with at the coffee machine bang down her door and rip apart the life he abandoned.

“Have you heard anything?”

Skinner rifles through papers until the door clicks shut. Her badge feels heavy on her lapel. It feels wrong to be here.

“Only the official warrant,” Skinner answers. That was weeks ago. She has to frequently remind herself that he is doing the best he can. He can’t make it too obvious he’s interested in the hunt. She certainly can’t go digging herself.

“They’re closing the X-files,” he informs her. “There is an appeal process…”

“That’s not necessary,” Scully interrupts. “My assignment was to assess the validity of Mulder’s investigations. There is nothing to assess.”

“You believe in the work.”

“I’m a scientist,” she reminds him, offering nothing else.

Her final report is a jumble of words that states, no matter what she believed, the X-Files should never be reopened.

–

Scully spends idle days breathing in wet air on her mother’s porch. She hopes the sea might soothe her.

A week later, as she plans her return to Washington, she decides emphatically that it did not.

She discovers heart medication in her mother’s bathroom cabinet. Maggie attempts to downplay the circumstances, “It was a blip on a screen, Dana. The doctor said it was just precautionary,” but to Scully, it’s a call to action.

It isn’t difficult to resign. It seemed like it should, after giving the FBI almost a decade of herself, and much, much more than that.

She cries silently in her car after handing over the keys to her dream apartment and saying goodbye to her meticulously curated life.

She reminds herself starting over is the only way to move on. But she isn’t sure she believes it.

–

Scully is a seasoned Special Agent of the FBI, an instructor of pathology, but she struggles to call herself a doctor. After an onslaught of rejected resumes, she begins to believe the medical community of Maryland agrees.

A small hospital outside Baltimore is wowed by her determination alone. At the bottom of the ladder, no one knows the reputation of Agent Scully. She showed promise and expertise in her role, even if her partner was a kook. Dr. Scully has never formally practiced medicine and her bedside manner leaves something to be desired.

Scully hopes for an opening in pathology, where she might be more understood. John From Human Resources hums along with her plight. “I’ll keep an eye out,” he promises.

She begins noticing him behind her in the cafeteria line. On a fall day, she is trying to decide on the best fruit cup when he sides up to her. He is whisper-quiet, conspiratorial in tone when he says, “I wanted to give you a heads up that Dr. Harris may be retiring at the end of the year.”

The may sounds more like an is. A weight inside her lifts.

John assures her she is the first choice when the position officially becomes available. When he leads her to her new office in January, he asks her out to drinks to celebrate, and Scully is surprised, because she forgot people could see her that way.

John is completely unlike anyone else she’s been with. He is endlessly dependable. She never has to worry about where he is because he calls when he’ll be late. He thrives on a fastidious routine and makes safe, informed decisions.

Scully finally moves out of her mother’s house and into a modern three-bedroom she purchases with John. She leads an entirely new life. She climbs the ranks in pathology and is still able to go on real dates, and eat home cooked meals while they’re still hot, and sit in the pew every Sunday. She goes on weekend hikes and uninterrupted trips to the coast and has fine, but not life changing, sex. She accepts John’s proposal on the beach with a beautiful ring.

They have a small wedding. She doesn’t take his last name.

John tries so hard, never asks about her time in the FBI, even tries to adopt a child with her. When it falls through at the last minute, they decide on a dog instead. They get divorced after two years.

In her office one late morning, the phone on her desk lights up. “Dr. Scully, there’s a man on line one asking for you.”

“Thank you,” she says into the speaker. She picks up the receiver with the assumption of a request for a consult. “This is Dr. Scully.”

“Hey, Scully, it’s me.”

She drops the phone.

–

Scully’s stomach is in knots. She is too nervous to order any food. Mulder sits across from her at a diner, looking older and scruffier, and she wonders if this is all a cruel hallucination.

“Where have you been?”

His fingers tap nervously on the table. “Farrs Corner.”

After exploring little towns in the far reaches of nowhere, she remembers that’s Virginia. When she presses for how long, she discovers he’s been within driving distance almost this entire time. Her fingers clench. She wants to strangle him.

“It’s been six years, Mulder. Why now?”

“The FBI dropped the charges against me. I helped them with a case, they wiped the slate clean. I can start my life again, Scully, come back.”

Forget strangle, Scully wants to kill him. He thinks he can just come back? His ignorance to the domino effect of his actions has to be purposeful.

There was a life they wanted to live together that never had the chance to become a reality. She has spent six years trying to fill her life with meaning. Her marriage failed, her career path faltered. They have a child that is no longer theirs.

Scully stands from the booth. She stares down at him, asserts her power.

“I thought you were dead.”

He just nods. He suggests she give him a call, now that she has his number.

She doesn’t.

–

Scully always forgave Mulder too quickly; it was their fatal flaw. She frequently ignored this piece of common knowledge by justifying his more unsavory behavior as residual childhood trauma, or a severe lack of social skills, or plainly being obtuse.

She never found a way to justify him leaving her when she needed him without looking like an emotionally manipulated moron. How could she possibly forgive the embarrassment and isolation she felt after giving up her own child for ostensibly no reason?

Scully bared her soul to him, her body, and gave him everything she had, and she still took a backseat to his quest. There was a brief time where she thought something finally switched in him and the quest would take a backseat to her. In the earliest days of the millenium, working their way up from something undefined to something real.

A month passes. She speaks to no one about her meeting with Mulder, but when she has idle moments, it fills her mind. She tries to remain hot when she begins wondering what Mulder’s life is like now. She attempts to imagine how he filled six years worth of time, because he was never a picture of duality, never able to separate his life from his work, and what can he do after leaving it behind?

It’s a slow burning curiosity. Weeks long. She begins to think he didn’t push during their last meeting because he knew it would happen like this.

She scrolls through recent calls to find the number he left on her office phone. Scully hears the hello in that familiar voice and doesn’t hesitate to respond, “Mulder, it’s me.”

–

Scully sees a dream realized when she pulls up to a little house with a spacious porch on sprawling land. Mulder never liked the city.

He is clearly thrilled to finally present his vegetable garden and his paintings while giving her the grand tour. He recounts putting in the new water heater himself and his plans to replace the roof next spring.

Mulder makes her pasta and gives her the “good chair.” When her stomach is full, they talk about old times. She hasn’t talked about these things in years because she knew there was no one else that can laugh about what she saw instead of instantly recoiling except for the man sitting across from her.

“I have to get back,” she realizes when she sees the sun beginning to set out the window. They spent almost the whole day together. He nods in understanding.

“You see I’m not living in squalor,” he jokes as he walks her to her car.

“It certainly wasn’t the dilapidated hut I was expecting,” she teases. Her tone shifts from silly to serious. “You know, Mulder, after our last meeting, I really didn’t want to come here. I thought…I think you know what I thought. But I’m glad I came.”

“I appreciate any chance you’ll give me, Scully,” he replies.

–

Farrs Corner becomes a regular destination.

Mulder easily becomes the companion she was lacking, the return of the best friend she lost. Even with the passage of time, he still knows her better than anyone else.

She stops offering up her free Friday nights for on-call autopsies and tox screens to watch movies with take-out picked up just before civilization ends.

Without a Saturday shift to spoil their fun, they indulge in the full six pack of their favorite beer. His feet are propped on the coffee table next to their abandoned pizza box, as she folds her legs underneath her on the cushion beside him. She is full-bellied and warm.

“I can’t believe you were married,” he says in disbelief, taking a swig from his bottle. “Considering how many of my proposals you turned down.”

“Maybe I would’ve accepted if any of them had been serious.”

“So you’re saying there was a chance?”

She laughs and nudges his shoulder with the side of her bottle.

When she catches his eye, she sees a person that, yes, she thought she might marry someday. When she was younger, less hard, and had never seen the face of a child that was half him, half her.

She leans forward and presses her lips to his, jerking back as soon as he begins to respond. She tries to find something to say, a reasoning, but she finds his curious gaze, and can’t think of anything to say.

He closes the distance between them and starts where she left off. His kiss is wonderful. It’s hopeful and sexy as all hell.

He nudges her jaw aside with his chin, his mouth seeking out her neck. Her fingers tangle in his hair. “Let’s go upstairs,” he suggests.

–

Standing at the foot of his bed, Scully realizes she’s never been in Mulder’s bedroom before. He has simple furnishings; dark wood and soft blues. His belt clunks when it hits the floor. His bare chest warms her back.

She remembers his warmth, his proclivity to be so tender and gentle, and to let her lead the way. She turns and guides him onto the bed.

Modest kisses quickly turn unrestrained. He breaths in long pants as he shoves her panties down her thighs, letting her kick them over her ankle before hooking them over his hips.

He slips in so easily. Scully explores his changed body; the shifting muscles in his back, his thinner, sweat dampened hair against her hands, his ass clenching as he rocks into her.

Electricity runs through her when his fingers drift to her clit, taking her right to the edge. “Fuck,” he groans, his lips at her ear. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

She moans in utter bliss, deliriously overtaken. When she comes, she shatters. Mulder thrusts two, three times more, before following behind. He spurts hotly into her with growls of satisfaction.

Breathing heavily, they lay bonelessly on their backs. She feels the sweat cooling at her hairline. Her lips break into a big smile and a laugh leaves her lips. His follows and he raises her hand to his lips, feeling his joyous puffs of air against her skin.

“We are still very good at that,” she decides, turning her head toward him.

“You did always bring out the best in me,” he agrees.

Scully finds his boyish nerves when he mentions spending the night charmingly endearing. She wordlessly moves to press herself into his side, clinging to him in answer.

–

Mulder calls their connection cosmic, though Scully doesn’t believe in cosmicity. An otherworldly connect would trivialize their effort so far in their new era.

She worried how they would assimilate into each other’s worlds without the commonality of what easily linked them before. While their forced separation may never be seen as a positive in her eyes, it did allow for the growth to be content in domesticity.

Scully adores the version of Mulder she met over two decades ago. With his unwavering desire for truth and his absolutely brilliant mind. The hours they can spend talking remind her of that man often. They spar as they always did, laugh like no time has passed.

She delights in the side of him that is at peace with the mundane. He likes filling her drawers with clean scrubs, and working in the yard until he returns smelling like freshly cut grass, and giving her drafts of his paranormal mystery novel.

Uncensored honesty is their biggest challenge. It would be so easy to never discuss what plagued them in the past. They finally get to air their fear, their guilt, and their grief. Scully thinks she and Mulder come out better on the other side.

Mulder leads her to the quiet corners of the world, using his freedom to finally venture off his little property. They luxuriate in the Bahamas shortly after their first night together and they start stopping at all the roadside attractions they used to skip. He plans to finally take her to England and show her all the off beaten paths from his youth. She would go anywhere with him.

A beach house in Maine is this weekend’s activity. Scully accidentally leaves her stack of reading on the desk in her office. “I’ll grab them quick and we’ll go,” she promises him, hanging onto the open passenger side window.

“Don’t leave the coast waiting too long,” he teases. “I’m starting to lose my island glow.” She rolls her eyes at him and pushes up on her toes to kiss him briefly.

Though she promises to be quick, Scully still signs into her computer. She printed out the newest articles hastily before an autopsy and notices now that the first ten pages of the article on top are missing. She finds herself drawn to begin reading when she goes to reprint. She pulls out her chair with blind arms, sitting down absently.

She doesn’t realize how long she’s been gone until she sees Mulder enter. “I was starting to think you’d fallen in,” he jokes.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. He brushes off her apology with a wave of his hand, rounding the desk to brace his hand on the back of her chair.

“What are you reading?” he asks.

Case 43-2009. 8-year-old with Brain Scan Abnormalities Presents Potentially Unseen Neurological Disorder.

She breaks her gaze at the screen to bring her eyes up to Mulder.

“We need to find our son.”

#x files #xf fic #fox mulder #dana scully #msr

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looking-for-girlfriend-blog · 5 years

Text

How to win the girl of your dreams.

How many times have you promised yourself to finally come to the girl you like, but at the crucial moment found a thousand reasons not to meet her? The time is not enough, you've convinced yourself that she is likely to have a boyfriend and it makes no sense to approach her. In fact, the problem is uncertainty, fear of rejection and rejection. We take this as a personal affront, but in reality a refusal is just a refusal and nothing more. Today we will talk about why you are still not Dating the girl of your dreams and how to fix it. The task is not easy, because working on yourself is usually the hardest. In this case, in addition to self-development, it is best to turn to a professional, a person who will help not only to overcome their own complexes, but also tell how best to communicate with girls and not feel awkward.

Such a person for you can be Igor Lapin — Maestro of seduction, who not only seduced a lot of beautiful maidens, but also helped almost two thousand guys to gain confidence, a diverse, rich sexual life and relationships. More information about Igor Lapin you can find on his website. The uncertainty and fear, which need to be addressed You can from time to time to dump all the circumstances, to find excuses for themselves and even blaming other people that are still there with you no girl, I dreamt about. But when the time comes for an objective analysis of the problem, then comes the understanding that all the fault you yourself, or rather, your uncertainty.

Believe me, there is no man who would not have doubts, no fear at the first attempt to get acquainted with the girls. Coming up first, saying a simple "Hello" can be a challenge if the girl really likes it. But it is necessary to overcome yourself, and maybe after a while you will watch a movie at your home. If you feel that you need the help of an experienced person, you can always turn to the pickup coach Igor Lapin and order his unique pickup training, which will help to move to a new level of communication with the girls. It is important to note that his courses are given exercises and tasks that need to be performed, so if you are pathologically just shy, you have to overcome yourself, listen to the instructions of the coach, otherwise nothing will come of it. If you are ready to throw away your weaknesses, it is more likely by the end of training you will find a girl, which has long dreamed of.

More ... https://www.facebook.com/Perfect-Girls-singles-USA-and-EU-whatsapp-and-skype-numbers-1774771229488885

The bottom line is that, knowing the simple rules and properly performing some algorithms of action, you can win any girl, which could only dream of. Originality and spontaneity These qualities are appreciated by many girls along with a good figure and prestigious work. Girls get tired of the classic scenarios of ordinary dates, which they had to visit. The first meeting, a trip to the cafe, a walk in the Park, then you see her home, and you disperse. The second meeting may not be very different from the first, and this, you must admit, is boring, and this pastime eventually turns into an interview, not a romantic evening. By a certain point, you'll be tired of it yourself, so you'll have to surprise.

Do not be afraid to do unusual things: to be extraordinary is the only way to remember the girl and stay in her memory for a long time, because when we think about someone for a long time, we involuntarily begin to look for the dignity of this particular person. Most likely, you heard about those cases when the girl left from the successful businessman to more" down-to-earth", but creative person who could understand all subtleties of her sincere Constitution and was capable to fill with the romanticism the empty in the soul, which were formed in a past relationship due to lack of attention.

You might seem at least to act irrational, but inscrutable feminine nature has chosen for himself an extraordinary man who will provide her peace of mind and joy of life. Approaches to Dating can be different, but if this you have some problems, do not hesitate to contact the professionals. Igor Lapin is a person who can really teach how to drag girls to bed.

Today, he has not just a huge experience, but his own online school, where everyone can learn the art of seduction. Don't forget about appearance and proper positioning of the Appearance if not the main, but to follow him you have to. No matter how interesting and versatile person you are, it is unlikely that you will be able to meet a girl, if you smell bad, and appearance leaves much to be desired. It is not necessary to buy branded clothes to impress a girl — it is enough to look neat and stylish to combine things without wearing socks under sandals. It's better not to wear sandals at all.

Physical fitness is just as important, but you don't have to be a bodybuilder to be noticed. Keep your body in shape, watch your diet and a couple of times a week to visit the gym — everything else for you will make metabolism and muscle memory. If you are skinny or, on the contrary, stayed with my grandmother a little longer than the allotted time, then pick up the clothes that will emphasize the dignity of your figure, not flaws. Follow these rules and consider that half the work has already been done. But in the end you can be handsome, but from time to time to fail because of the wrong actions. For women, the internal component, the male rod, which they are looking for, is also important. Women love strong men, but at the same time they are very emotional, so you just need to learn how to communicate, give emotion to capture the attention of the girl and cause her interest. Forget about past failures, forget about what kind of person you were before and build a new reality.

Today you are successful, cheerful, charismatic, charming, and even if some time ago the girls did not pay any attention to you, forget it, because this period in your life is over. Ask for advice If you see that communication with girls is not glued, you can always ask advice from a more experienced friend, because from the problem is always more visible, and experience in dealing with girls is often crucial. It may be so that friends do not want to apply, and you decide to consult a professional. His courses will help to overcome fear; you will learn to meet them; you will learn how to find a girl for a long relationship, and if you want to even understand how to return an ex-girlfriend. The initial half-hour consultation will help to identify problems and make a plan that can solve them. Igor uses an integrated approach, starting from the study of personal data and ending with the change of information in social networks. The result is achievable for everyone, the main thing-to overcome the internal complexes, clamps and listen to the advice of the pickup coach.

More ... https://www.facebook.com/Perfect-Girls-singles-USA-and-EU-whatsapp-and-skype-numbers-1774771229488885

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learninglinguist · 6 years

Note

Hello! I am thinking about studying Linguistics abroad (in UK) but I couldn't find any people that study this field IRL so I searched for a person who studies Linguistics on Tumblr. Coul you possibly tell me 1) how did you start thinking about studying this field? 2) do you like it better now than when you started and 3) maybe you have some extra tips or things you would have done differently if you were a freshman or even before studying? You would help me tremendously if you answered!!!

@filosudas Sorry for the late response!! I’m so glad you’re thinking about studying linguistics!! This advice is all coming from an undergrad student so if you want better advice, check out some of the blogs I follow who are definitely more qualified.

1. How did you start thinking about studying this field?

I forget how I actually came across the field, but I heard about the International Phonetic Alphabet as being a way to record speech sounds in various dialects and languages and I remember looking into linguistics after that. I went to university thinking I would study English and history and took a linguistics intro class as an elective. Two weeks in I decided to major in it. I was really lucky to find a field I’m so passionate about so early on. I read a bunch of pop linguistics books to get into it and while school work is much more boring, they motivate me to keep working until I can get to the point where I research things I find that interesting.

2. Do you like it better now than when you started?

Absolutely. My intro classes were SUPER COOL because I’d never heard of anything we were learning before, but my classes now are more specialized. For instance, I took a course called Language, Gender, and Sexuality this past year and I was excited to do every reading.

3. Maybe you have some extra tips or things you would have done differently if you were a freshman or even before studying?

Definitely use your university’s and other universities’ resources to help you look into what to minor in as well as what kind of job options you have. I’m minoring in Intercultural Communications for Arabic (because that’s the only minor option for Arabic) and while I think it will be helpful in the future and look good on a resume, it’s not as helpful with linguistics as something like psychology or computer science would be. I do kinda regret not taking computer science courses, because computational linguistics is a growing field. I’m not going into Speech Pathology because I don’t have any of the science qualifications on account of passing out easily in science classes in high school, so I don’t really know where I’m headed. Talk to upper year students and grad students for advice because they’ll have seemingly ENDLESS knowledge about the program, the professors, the classes, and the mistakes they made.

Good luck with your plans to study abroad!! I hope I’m not replying too late to help!!

#filosudas #Learninglinguist #linguistics #steph talks #asks

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adotblog · 6 years

Text

Brave Part 16

Pairing: LMM x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Swearing, Cheating!

Words: Too many!

Uhh, Lin?”, you call from the sofa, where you are nursing a hangover. “Why have I gained 3000 Twitter followers overnight? I feel like that has something to do with you…”. He comes over, still rubbing sleep from his eyes and clutching an empty coffee cup. “I…think I tagged you in something…check your mentions”, he says. Sure enough there’s a tweet from Lin’s mom. You scroll back further and further to find the start of it all. Aha:

@lin_manuel Mmph @ytwitterhandle makes the BEST cookies.

@ltmphd @lin_manuel She does! Also those brownies last week were so good!

Innocent enough but Lin’s eagle-eyed followers had spotted that you’d met Lin’s Mom twice in a week and started putting two and two together in the replies:

@dothama yo, @ninarosario you said you’d heard he got a girlfriend…

@ninarosario @dothama yeah but have you seen her avi? He could have anybody he wants!

And so it went on, Sure there were some nicer comments but there were a lot that were just mean.

Lin finally hands you a cup of coffee as he sits next to you. “Sometimes people can be a little overzealous-don’t read the replies if it upsets you”, he says, with a quick squeeze of your knee. “Yeah, I know I shouldn’t have now..”, you grumble. “Hey”, Lin says, to get your attention back to him. “I’m here, with you, remember?”. “Yeah of course.”, you smile as you put your phone away. But it bothers you more than you admit to him.

—————————————————

It’s Friday and you’re home alone, which is just fine by you. You’ve caught up on some reading, made a great dinner and a tiny serving of cookie dough just for you. It’s late and Netflix isn’t really holding your attention so you’re on and off your social media accounts too.

Lin is out at a party in some nightclub, something hosted by a producer-nothing you’re really interested in attending. Anyway, Lin has been used to going to these things alone so another won’t hurt. Jon is with him and maybe Chris, you can’t remember.

You get a WhatsApp notification from Jazzy, with a photo attached. She’s sent it to your “HamSocial” group- you, Lin, Chris, Anthony, Jonathan, Oak and Daveed. It’s Anthony posing with Cynthia Erivo with the caption “My man’s looking fiiiine tonight! Xoxo”. It’s a cute picture. There are lots of folks in the background, dancing and schmoozing donors and producers. You spot Lin…and the girl he’s kissing.

——————————————————

The next message is from Oak:

“Shit, Jas, how drunk are you? Delete that right now!”

It’s been an hour since the picture showed up. You’ve thought of practically nothing else. Approximately 34 minutes have been spent thinking of all the possible rational, chaste explanations for the photo. The rest assuming the worst and feeling pretty fucking angry about it. You’ve spent no time thinking what you might say to Lin about it all. Which is unfortunate because you can hear a key in the door.

In the ensuing 10 seconds your brain rushes through the following thoughts: He wasn’t meant to be coming over. Usually after these things he just sends a goodnight text. That must mean he wants to talk. Which must mean that the photo depicted EXACTLY what you thought it did.

Then the door opens and his eyes find you and you feel even worse. He looks weighed down. Nervous, sad? Something. You don’t say hello. He closes the door and crosses the room to sit next to you and you try to quiet your brain and still the jiggling of your leg. Lin notices and places a hand on your knee to stop it. You give a tiny, wry laugh.

He looks you straight in the eye. “I need to tell you something.”, he says. You nod, dumbly. Numbly. “Did you see the photo?” he asks outright. You nod again and clench your fists too hard, digging your nails into your palms.

Lin sighs and runs a hand through his hair before meeting your gaze again. What he says next is measured and calm. “The woman is Andrea. She’s a friend of Jon’s friend Amy. They were both chatting with us. We’d had champagne, maybe too much…she’s flirting with me.”. You swallow hard and look at the floor as he continues. “It’s loud, so she leans over to shout in my ear, I don’t hear her so I ask her to repeat it and she just rolls her eyes, grabs me, and kisses me. Took me totally by surprise.”.

You exhale sharply. “That the whole story?”, you ask. “Yes.”, Lin says. Then he rubs a hand across his eyes. “No. It’s not. I kissed her back.”

Your stomach flip-flops. “What?!”, you almost whisper. “Just for a second or two!” You put your head into your hands as he describes what happened. “Then I stopped her, I tell her I have a girlfriend, she laughs and asks why you’re not there”. (You snort incredulously) “I tell her it doesn’t matter, I still have a girlfriend, so I’m not interested. She kind of scoffs at me and flounces off. I told Groff what happened and I left straight away. I got one block before I saw Jasmine’s message and realised she’d photographed the whole thing. So I came here”. He sighs and sits back against your couch.

You take a deep breath but you don’t say anything just yet. Lin is staring at you, desperate for you to speak.

“It was so quick, and I’d been drinking…”, he says feebly. “Oh well that’s ok then”, you goad. “I didn’t ask her to kiss me, it was totally uninvited.”, Lin says, more assertive now. “Look, a woman came on to me, it happens”.

“Oh fuck you! I’m so famous, I’m so popular, women just THROW themselves at my feet!”, you say sarcastically. “For God’s sake, Y/N that’s not what I meant and you know it!”, Lin says animatedly. “Do I?! No I don’t!”, you shout. “This fucking pathological need to be admired and liked is just prime territory for ‘Oh she needed a ride home, Oh she just HAPPENED to come to my dressing room’. Your boundaries are fucked-you’re so eager for the attention!”. “That’s not fair. You make me sound like a fucking creep!”, he returns.

A feeling of dread creeps into your stomach. “Fucking EVERYBODY knows”, you grumble. “I asked Jas to delete the message”, says Lin. “Of course you did”, you scoff. Lin shakes his head “Look, Y/N, I’m sorry, I really am. Someone came on to me, I told them no. End of story!”. “Lin! A picture of my boyfriend kissing someone else was just sent to several of my friends and colleagues-can you just let me be pissed about it?! Will you stop trying to just neatly tie it all up in a fucking bow and move on?! JESUS.”

You’re standing now, pacing alongside the windowseat. You stop as something hits you. “You came when you saw Jasmine’s message.”, you repeat. “So you weren’t going to tell me about this otherwise?! UGHHHH!”, you shout and throw your hands in the air in frustration.

“That’s not what I meant…”, Lin says calmly. “I meant I knew I had to come NOW, not wait til morning.”. You know he’s telling the truth, but it isn’t calming you down yet. Lin just watches you pace, waiting for you to talk. Eventually you stop. Your WhatsApp notifications have been going crazy this whole time and you stop to check them. Jas has sent three messages apologising, saying she didn’t realise, she’d never hurt you, she doesn’t know what happened with Lin and the girl. You send her a holding message, telling her you’re ok-otherwise she’d worry all night.

The other messages are on the group chat-

Daveed: The fuck, Lin?

Chris: Cut that shit out, y’all know Lin ain’t cheating on Y/N. Let’s all pretend we never saw that and mind our damn business, alright?

Lin: I’m going to Y/N’s place now. Nothing happened, and fuck you guys if you did think I’d cheat!

Chris: Alright, that’s it, I’m deleting this group. I’ll create a new one when y’all learn to communicate like fucking adults.

*the administrator deleted this group*

“This is so humiliating.”, you whisper. “Y/N, don’t you trust me?”, says Lin wearily. “It’s not about that, Lin”, you reply. “Of course it is, you either trust that I won’t cheat on you, or you don’t!”, he says, frustration all over his face. “This isn’t about you! It’s about how it makes ME feel! To know that women are just gonna kiss you like that, and that that means I’m relying on you to be sober enough and happy enough to rebuff them. That’s a fucking lot.”, you say as you sit down, still not looking at him.

“Y/N, I didn’t cheat on you-it’s not like I went home with her, like I slept with her”, he says. “I know you didn’t. But here’s what happened: some woman you barely know makes a pass at you and your first instinct is to kiss her back.”, you say. His face drops. “I’m not an idiot, Lin-you’re rich, famous and hot, I realise that people are going to come on to you. What I’m wrestling with is the possibility that I’m not enough, that what we have is not enough, to override that need for validation and stop you from…from kissing back, or worse.”.

“Y/N”, he begins. You interrupt. “I’m sorry, I need you to not be here right now.”, you say calmly. Lin looks up in surprise “Y/N, no!”. You shake your head firmly. “No, go home. I’ll come by in the morning. I need you to go.”. He stands up, looking utterly shell-shocked. “I’ll see you tomorrow”, you repeat as you close the door behind him.

You sit on your window seat and take a deep breath. You see him walking away from your building, phone to his ear, probably talking to Chris. You pick your own phone up and call Jasmine, who answers after just one ring.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I had no idea! I didn’t check the photo and..”. “Jazzy, it’s ok, I’m not mad at you”. You hear her sigh with relief. Then she asks “Did you talk to Lin?”. “Ugh, yeah I did. Says this woman came on to him, kisses him, he kisses back for a second then stops her, says he has a girlfriend.”, you sum up.

“Shit. Well, he stopped her, that’s the important thing”., Jas says. “Sure, but he kissed her. What if he’d had more to drink? Where’s the tipping point that makes him go home with her?”, you ask. “Come on, it was just a kiss-it’s not really cheating.”, Jas says. “It’s not that simple.”, you say. “Anyway, I gotta go.”. You reassure her that you’re ok and say goodnight. Then you drag yourself to bed and sleep fitfully until morning.

——————————————————

You’re up early, having barely slept anyway. You get the subway down to Lin’s apartment and ring his bell at just 8am. He buzzes you in immediately and is waiting with the door open when you emerge from the elevator. You give him a small smile and hug him on your way in.

You take a seat at the counter and he sits opposite you, hands clasping his coffee mug. “I didn’t exactly sleep”, he says, gesturing towards the coffee. “Me either.”, you say.

“Look, yesterday was a lot for me. I spent the morning having strangers on Twitter commenting how you can do better, I’m trying to understand how I’m supposed to deal with that kind of attention and then that kind of attention ends up kissing my damn boyfriend.”. Your tone is slightly joking and Lin smiles a little.

“I realise you didn’t intend to cheat on me. I know that most people wouldn’t consider kissing someone back when they came onto you cheating. I don’t, really. You didn’t cheat on me.” Lin nods but let’s you continue. “But. I’m not gonna pretend it didn’t hurt that your first thought wasn’t to push her off you. Maybe that’s naive or unrealistic of me, but that’s how I feel.”.

You sigh before you continue. “I guess what I’m saying is, I got a brutal insight into the shitty baggage that comes with Lin Miranda and it scared the crap out of me.”

Lin gives a small chuckle at your phrasing. “Ok The Twittery, attentiony stuff first. I’m not going to sit here and promise that everything is always going to be rosy for us. People know me, and that means unwanted attention for both of us. Is it easy? No. But there’s not a great deal I can do about it except compartmentalise where I can-try to keep you protected from as much of that as possible.”.

He waits a beat, then says “Last night. I might not have cheated, but I overstepped a mark. I should’ve shut that shit down immediately. I’ve been trying to remember, did I flirt with her? Lead her on? I don’t think I did but what you said yesterday about my boundaries being fucked up was painfully true. I do want everyone to like me and it does land me in trouble sometimes.”

You nod. “I know that you’re gonna be wondering if I kissed her back because I’m secretly unhappy”, he says. That hits you like a ton of bricks. He has you all figured out. “I promise you that if I’m not happy in our relationship then I’ll tell you, you’re not going to find that out by discovering me cheating on you.”. You go to say something but he cuts you off. “I know, I know that’s exactly what happened to you before, but I’m not like that, and you do know that. I see how scared it makes you, but I think you know I wouldn’t.”, he says.

“I think I do know that. But all this attention, and the shit that goes with it…I don’t know how well I’m going to handle that.”, you admit. “Me either, and I’m not gonna apologise for other people’s actions, present or future”, he says. “But I apologise for last night, and I promise you it’ll never happen again.”.

“Ok.”, you say. “Ok? We’re good?”, he asks, voice tinged with hope. You nod and say “I’m still gonna be a little pissed but I’ll get over it”, you shrug. Lin’s composure finally breaks as he exclaims “Thank god!” and rushes to your side of the counter, wrapping you in a hug. He pulls back and kisses you firmly and briefly. “I’m not sure I deserve you”, he says. “Eh, I’m not sure you do either”, you joke as you go to kiss him. “I love you”, you say.

Lin’s face is pure relief. He sighs. “I love you too. You’re the only person I want to see naked”, he says with a grin, trying to make you laugh. It works. He takes you hand and tugs at it. “What, right now?”, you laugh. “Uhh can you think of a better time for me to demonstrate that I’m interested in only you?” he jokes. “Lin, I don’t need you to demonstrate anything…”, you protest even as you fall into his arms. He kisses you and says against you lips “I know that, I just really badly need to fuck you right now, is that ok?”. You answer by leading him towards the bedroom.

You strip off your clothes and fall back onto the bed holding out your hand for him to come to you. He sheds his clothes and climbs onto the bed to hover over you, settling between your raised legs. His pelvis is against yours, skin on skin. He’s already hard, and every movement rubs against you in all the right places. His head dips to yours and he spends the longest time just kissing you, slow and soft turning to fast and desperate as your bodies grind against one another.

For a second he stills his hips, pulls his head back to look at you, really look at you. He gently pushes your hair away from your face and smiles as he runs his thumb over your cheek bone. Then his hand is in between your bodies and he’s pressing straight into you. There’s no foreplay, save the kissing, so desperate is the pull to be joined together again. You give a moan as his full length is inside you but any further sounds get muffled by kisses.

There’s barely an inch of your body which isn’t pressed into his, your breasts against his chest, arms linked around his neck as he moves in you. He never stops kissing you, and you’re glad of it-you need so badly to really feel him, to feel the lust and love between you. He’s been keeping a steady rhythm, just barely withdrawing on each thrust, filling you exquisitely. You cross your legs behind his back, hardly a sliver of light between your bodies now. He responds with an increase in pace, which sends him over the edge. He moans into your kiss as he cums, hips stuttering against yours, ecstasy all through his voice. He collapses on top of you as he recovers, laying a kiss or two against your neck.

After a minute he rolls off you, then recaptures your lips. His hand at the side of your face holds you in place. Your tongue is on his and you lay a hand across his belly, feeling the muscle underneath.

Pulling away from him, you settle into the crook of his arm. “Love you”, you state simply. “Te amo”, he says as he wraps both arms around you and holds you tight.

#lmm x reader #lin x reader #lin manuel imagine #lin manuel x reader #rpf #hamilton rpf #reader insert

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watsonhealthproject · 7 years

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T-1 Month Till Departure to Guatemala 0.0

It’s been forever because I am here trying to take in every second of every minute in this beautiful country with all of the people that I have grown to love. I feel good. I am learning loads. Most importantly, I am growing in ways I did not anticipate and it is so maddeningly satisfying. This post doesn’t do my experiences justice but here is my attempt to verbalize what is so often visceral. Enjoy!

A Real Life Beating Heart in an Open Chest Cavity!

I had the very special opportunity to observe a surgery to fix an arterial septal defect. In short, this is a congenital defect that results in a hole between the left and right atria of the heart. This is problematic because it causes back flow of blood and in the longer term can lead to issues such as high pulmonary pressure. Watching this surgery was a true treat because I got to see, literally a foot away from me, an exposed heart beat and lungs inflate and deflate before the patient was put on bypass. The experience was one in which I was reminded yet again of the marvel that is the human body and the power that is modern medicine.

Interviews upon Interviews:

I’m excited to say that I have had the opportunity to interview members of the general community, in more formal ways, in the last few weeks. It has been a great treat and I learn a something different each time. One of the first things I ask is for people to tell me what being ‘healthy’ means to them. The World Health Organization officially defines health as “a state of complete physical, mental and social well-being and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity.” Interestingly, when I ask people to define health, an overwhelming majority refer to physical well-being and more specifically, being in the habit of eating ‘healthy’ foods. To me, these responses suggest that people are hyper aware of how food affects their health but given that obesity is on the rise in Ecuador, awareness does not automatically translate to changes in lifestyle. Responses to other questions reveal why this may be the case, including but not limited to, economic restrictions. Very few mention social and mental well-being in their definitions although the topic of “stress” has often come up.

Another interesting thing that has come out of these interviews is the importance of alternative or natural medicine. Most people seem to refer to it as a first line of defense but when that does not work out, they turn to western medical institutions. There does not seem to be a preference for one or the other but rather, a recognition that both systems have valid solutions that are differently sought after depending on the situation. This is super interesting to me because as an outsider, it is easy to assume that the two systems work in opposition. However, regardless of whether or not they are fundamentally oppositional, people utilize both without much apparent dissonance.

People consistently refer to the same problems in the hospitals: long wait times, lack of medications, negligence, and the absence of humane treatment. Notably, people recognize that while the solutions are obvious, the actual realization of those solutions is quite complicated. Bureaucracy and politics is cited as the biggest barrier by both patients and doctors.

Jornada de Endocrinologia

I had the wonderful opportunity of attending an endocrinology conference. Some of the presentations went over my head because they were focused on tools that doctors can and should utilize when they make treatment decisions for patients. However, there were some really awesome physiology-focused conversations and some interesting perspectives on the state and future of health in Ecuador. Here are some things that really stood out:

- A lot of the scientific studies presented during the conference were from North America and Europe. Presenters noted that this is problematic because many of these studies are mono-ethnic and therefore not optimally useful for application in latin america where different risk factors, genetic make-ups, and lifestyles limit the applicability of the studies. This was especially true for studies that produced risk calculators and scales. There was an overall consensus that more Ecuadorians need to publish studies done in Ecuador.

- When asked to choose between longer visit times or investment in better medicines, a doctor adamantly supported the latter. His reasoning reflected an opinion I had not encountered before. According to him: “patients misuse consultation time. When a doctor asks how they have been, they go into detail about things that are apparently irrelevant to their health and which is ultimately a waste of time. As a result there is no need to increase the length of time assigned to each patient but rather to educate patients about what consultations are for.”

- I liked the notion of “life style therapy”

- The quote of the conference was undoubtedly: “el mejor medicamento es la educación.” (education is the best medicine)

- When pathologies cost nations more money, they get more attention, even if they are not necessarily the deadliest.

- I learned that there is such a thing as abdominal obesity.

Sexual Health: HIV/AIDS

I participated in a guided conversation about HIV/AIDS and the thing that struck me the most was the reality that disease can have a negative social impact on the lives of individuals, in addition to the mental and physical impacts. I think that I knew this subconsciously but this conversation bought this thought to the forefront and made us evaluate it thoroughly. ‘Social impact’ can have a lot of meanings but in this particular case, it refers to the relationship between the diseased individual and those around them. Unfortunately, there is a lot of stigma associated with HIV/AIDS and as a result, people that have the disease often face discrimination and isolation. As a result, the topic of confidentiality, access to information, and the question of the responsibility of individuals to inform sexual partners that they have HIV/AIDS came up. There were many interesting opinions!

Here are some of the questions that were initally posed to facilitate conversation that I challenge you to honestly ask yourselves and those around you. Evaluate your answers. Why did you respond as you did?

- What is the first thing that comes to mind when you hear HIV/AIDS?

- How would you react if you learned you had HIV/AIDS?

- What would you do if you found out your neighbor had HIV/AIDS? Your friend?

La Mitad Del Mundo Adventures

They say that there is a ‘real’ and a ‘fake’ middle of the world (a few meters apart). There was so much to do and see that we didn’t make it to the ‘real’ equatorial line. However, I had such a great time that it doesn’t even matter!

New Friends

My empanada cravings led me to meet a wonderful woman from the States and we connected instantly. Super grateful to have a friend who is my age and who comes from a similar background.

Made a spontaneous decision to go out and get to know each other in the midst of uber-loud music, practically professional dancers, and a few performances that left us awe-inspired.

Just before this picture was taken, I had some amazing fish, yuca fries, morocho, and the ever so highly recommended fritada. Can you see the satisfaction in our eyes?

Trip to Guayaquil, Ecuador

I was convinced that I was not going to make it to Guayaquil but the minute I heard that a group from the dance academy were going for a salsa festival, I joined. I see these folks multiple times a week but when you live with a group of people, even if its just for 4 days, you grow so close so quickly and it is a truly beautiful thing. Grateful to these amazing humans for bringing light and joy to my life this past weekend. I had not laughed so much and so hard in a while! Highlights:

- Our instructors placed third in salsa pairs and second in bachata pairs!

- I tasted some awesome typical foods on the beach whose names I will not remember

- I swam in the pacific!

- I rather unsuccessfully danced salsa with real life professionals but was a star with the bachata moves :)

- Got to experience in its entirety what a dance congress/festival consists of and is like.

- Roamed the streets of a coastal city in Ecuador. (note: the heat made me miss Quito’s cool breeze).

- Felt loved and at home in the most profound way yet

Thinking about the more distant future:

Princeton in Latin America: On one hand the idea of spending a whole other year abroad seems a little crazy. However, I am madly in love with Latin America and want to spend more time in the region. The only reason it seems crazy to me is that it would delay my entrance into medical school even more so and that is just absurd. I am currently debating what to do. I don’t have much time left to decide!

Social Entrepreneurship: I think there is a great big opportunity for innovation in the area of chronic disease prevention and management and it is a very enticing field. I’ve got ideas and each day my experiences help to inform the development of those ideas. Perhaps I won’t walk out of this year with a job per se but a new social enterprise that could impact many lives. It wouldn’t be the first time that I took on a major project from scratch and built it up. It could be really fun and meaningful! Plus, it would allow me to apply the things I am learning in the most tangible way. I have ideas!

Medical School: To be completely honest, there is a small part of me that wonders every day if I should go to medical school. This is hard to admit and I have to ask myself where the feeling comes from since I’ve wanted to be a doctor for about as long as I can remember. I think what it comes down to is the fact that doctors are tied to a system that sometimes requires them to trade passion for medicine and love of humanity for efficiency and endless paperwork. It is quite unfortunate.

It absolutely pains my heart that I have all but 30 days left in this wonderful country. In that spirit, this post would not be complete without an inspirational tidbit:

“You get a strange feeling when you're about to leave a place, like you'll not only miss the people you love but you'll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you'll never be this way again.”

#watson fellowship

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jetbootcollection · 7 years

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A Hero’s Vacation

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Characters: Marinette/Ladybug, Adrien/Chat Noir, Alya, OC(s)

Summary: A hero from another city comes to Paris.

Tags: Fluff, Self-Indulgent Fluff, No Romance (for canon characters), Gratuitous use of OCs, Headcanons abound

Words: 6575

Chapters: 1/?

Chapter 2>>

Marinette was lucky to live right next to the school she attended. Not because it was across the street, but because it was selective. Every student there had a passion and the potential to excel. And while the school was not picky when it came to the subject, they made it clear that the degree of commitment to each student’s chosen career was paramount. ‘The road to success can lead anywhere’ was engraved into a gold plaque that hung on the wall of the headmaster’s office, and would be printed on banners that were put up during exam weeks.

Which is why, far from the first time, Marinette thanked her lucky stars that she had managed to hold it together long enough to present her design portfolio at the end of a lengthy application process. Looking around the courtyard, she saw musicians, programmers, painters, even mechanics. Not to mention the hottest teen model in France and longtime crush, Adrien. Her best friend Alya had gotten in with her passion for journalism. Chloe, as insufferable as she may be, had her sights set on parliament and had the skills to make it there. Even Lila the pathological liar was a published author, though few of her classmates believed her until she brought forth a sizable sample of her work to prove it.

So when Marinette walked into class and saw an unfamiliar face standing at the front of the room, she knew he had to be good at whatever it was he did.

“Has he introduced himself yet?” she asked Alya as she sat down.

“Not yet. But he’s been watching everyone come in, in perfect silence. Kinda creepy if you ask me.” Alya was the kind of girl that weighted a person based on what they said and how they said it. People that didn’t talk must be hiding something. Some secret she would have to dig up.

Marinette turned forward to see the boy and jumped a little when he was looking right at her. He gave a forgiving smile, lifting his hand to make a gesture to say he had not been offended before turning his attention elsewhere.

“Alya! That was rude.”

“I thought I was being quiet! Not even Nino should have been able to hear that!” Alya defended with a hint of panic. If there was a skill she was proud of, it was her ability to talk to her best friend in class or livestream breaking Ladybug news from an active battle without being heard.

“Hear what?” Nino asked, spinning around on his bench in front of the girls.

“Nothing!” the two said in unison.

Marinette looked back to the silent boy. What was this guy’s talent? His simple collared shirt and slacks suggested a more intellectual field of study. He wore a sleek metal pin that looked like a feather on his collar but had no other accessories. Nothing really stood out about him physically except for a pair of slightly oversized eyes. Miss Bustier pulled her attention away before she could formulate a guess.

“Good morning, class. Today we have a new student joining us. Amoux, would you please tell us about yourself?”

The boy stepped forward without a hint of nervousness.

“I am Amoux Grégoire. I was born in France but have been overseas for years many…um, many years, I mean. With my talents of observation, I wish to be a therapist someday. Patience with me as I relearning French.” He was clearly out of practice, speaking in fluent but disjointed sentences.

Out of the corner of her eye Marinette could see Alya shrink into her seat as she realized just how rude she had been. Chloe took it upon herself to surpass her.

“What good’s a therapist that can’t speak French?” She said in that snide tone she takes whenever she wants to get a rise out of someone. Adrien was about to come Amoux’s aid when the boy defended himself with surprising grace.

“A good listener.” He said simply, calmly walking past Chloe without even looking her in the face on his way to the empty seat next to Ivan. Miss Bustier gave him a proud smile for not taking the bait and turned to begin writing the day’s assignment on the board.

“I wish I could shut Chloe down like that.” Marinette whispered. Chloe had her eyes closed and nose turned up as if still waiting for a response.

“Well I’m going to apologize at lunch, so you should come with me and get some pointers.”

“Now remember, your homework for tonight is question four on page sixty. I want a full explanation of the triple point of water, why or why not it exists, and a hand drawn graph of temperature versus concentration to justify your reasoning.” Ms. Mendeleiev bookended her lecture.

As the bell rang to let them out of Chemistry, Alya walked after Amoux with Marinette in tow, catching up to him at the base of the stairs that led down to the courtyard. He looked confused as to where to go next.

“Something wrong, Amoux?” Alya asked.

“Is there no lunchroom?” He asked in return, puzzled by the students leaving through the front entrance.

“Lunchroom? No, no. Students go home to eat during the lunch break.” Alya said, trying to her hardest to not sound condescending. She had flubbed her first impression and didn’t want to make it worse by answering what she thought was an obvious question.

“Oh…I had not planned this. I live far.” He said with a worried look, a hand absently resting on his stomach.

“Why not join us at my bakery? Wouldn’t want you to go hungry over an honest mistake.” Marinette offered.

Amoux lit up and could not find the words to thank her, so he nodded with a thankful smile instead.

A quick walk across the street, an apology from Alya for calling Amoux creepy that was accepted readily, and pushing through the lunch rush later, Marinette led them up to her living room with a basket of bread under her arm. The three of them sat down to the muffled noises of the busy bakery below them.

Over the first bite of her roll, Alya checked the Ladyblog out of habit. She scrolled the news feeds for a few seconds before putting her phone down.

“Been awhile since the last akuma attack. You think Hawkmoth finally ran out of butterflies?”

Amoux slowly turned to face Alya with a look of confusion written on his face. What she had just said sounded insane to him.

“A-Akuma? What is this? And butterflies?”

“OH, right.” Alya quickly flipped through her phone to find an artist’s rendition of an akuma butterfly and some pictures of their victims.

“There is a supervillain here in Paris named Hawkmoth that sends out these dark butterflies to take advantage of people’s negative emotions to turn them into his minions. But don’t worry. We’ve got superheroes to take care of it, and everything gets fixed in the end.” She explained, showing before and after photos of various monuments going from rubble to pristine.

When Alya’s impromptu slideshow came to pictures of Chat Noir and Ladybug, Amoux seemed to recognize them.

“They look of heroes in Seattle. Expect ours are a… salmon and… deer? No, moose! We had an eagle hero, but he left.” Remembering the names of animals was difficult, though some were easier than others.

Alya nearly exploded at the news.

“THERE ARE MORE SUPERHEROES! EEEEEEEHEHEHE!” She couldn’t help herself, needing to run around the room a bit to calm down.

“What happened to the Eagle?” Marinette asked, trying to be heard over the bakery noise and her friend’s fangirling without yelling. It was not an easy balance to strike.

“He said he was needed elsewhere. In a new sky, he said.” Amoux seemed almost saddened by his own words, as if describing a lost friend. Before Marinette could even think of asking more, Alya all but threw herself between them.

“WOULDN’T IT BE COOL IF HE CAME TO PARIS!? THIS EAGLE GUY COULD TEAM UP WITH LADYBUG AND KICK MAJOR-“

“ALYA! Calm down.”

It was a few nights later when the next akuma showed up. Marinette had a custom text alert on her phone for when an akuma was spotted, and when it went off in the middle of doing her homework she bookmarked her text book and put her spots on as soon as she stood up. Four more steps and she was already out the window in one fluid motion. A quick toss of her yo-yo to her favorite chimney and she was off.

Running along a roof top to quickly check exactly where she was going on her communicator, Chat Noir jumped to her side out of the night.

“I’ll save you the search, bugaboo. It’s in the river.”

“Thanks, kitty.” She relied a little dryer than she wanted.

“You wound me, My Lady. ‘Hello Chat, it’s been a while. I’ve missed you so much.’ Nothing?” The boy’s impression of her was superb, if a little mocking. Ladybug rolled her eyes as she jumped to the next roof.

“Alright, I might have missed you a little. It’s only been…” She had honestly lost track.

“Three weeks.” Chat finished for her, extending his staff to vault across a large plaza.

Arriving at the bridge that led to the base of the Eifel Tower, the pair have no trouble finding the giant mass of green slime oozing up the river. Garbage of all kinds could be seen floating inside the transparent goo.

“Maybe we should stretch first. Wouldn’t want to pull a muscle just because we’ve been on vacation.”

“Nothing’s working! The akuma could be in anything!” Ladybug called to Chat after coming back from her third transformation of the night.

She had used Lucky Charm twice now, and both times the item produced had gotten stuck in the slime without doing anything useful. How was a pie plate or a water bottle supposed to help in the first place?

“Could we freeze it?” Chat called back, swatting away a slimy tentacle with his staff. He had tried Cataclysm during his first transformation, but the slime was not solid enough for the effect to spread.

“Something that big would take days to-“

Ladybug was interrupted by a sharp whistling sound flying past her. Whatever it was imbedded itself in the slime creature just deep enough to skewer an oddly purple banana peel. The slime dissolved in a wave of light, leaving behind a black butterfly. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Ladybug captured and purified the akuma.

Chat went off to fish an apologetic janitor out of the river. Ladybug set to retrieving the two failed Charms from the garbage that was still raining down, finding the arrow that had saved the day along the way. She repaired the broken bridge and the damage caused by the flooding, but couldn’t help but wonder who or what had helped them.

“How did you do that?” Chat asked, looking at the totally not red and black polka dot arrow while ringing the water out of his tail.

“It wasn’t me.” Ladybug looked off into the distance where the arrow must have come from. There were no buildings to be seen in that direction, only the river and the night sky.

Convinced they were not going to find the answer tonight, the two were just about to leave when they heard a voice overhead.

“Well aren’t you fancy, patchin’ all that up.”

Looking up they saw a young man with wings for arms, flapping to slow his descent to them. He wore a white mask much like theirs, but with a yellow piece that covered his nose and kept going to form a beak. His costume resembled a wrestler’s outfit colored with simple bands of red, white, and blue. A bow was slung on his back and a quiver on his hip. But what stood out the most was that anywhere there should have been skin, he was covered with short fluffy feathers.

“Sorry it took so long to get over here. Shot that from two miles out, and I couldn’t find a good thermal to ride. Name’s Eagle, by the way.” He looked and sounded American but spoke perfect French.

The two of them were not sure what to make of him. Of what they knew of the Miraculous from Master Fu, all of them should be in France, if not Paris itself. How did a foreigner get his hands on one? Speaking of hands, his transformation was so complete that he didn’t have them.

Not wanting to be rude or jump to conclusions about this new Miraculous holder, Ladybug introduced herself and her partner.

“I’m Ladybug, and this is Chat Noir. What brings you to Paris?”

“Um. Hmm…” Eagle stalled for time, trying to come up with an answer. He had jumped into the fight without really thinking, and was so impressed by the red girl’s ability to repair the damaged city that he just had to say hello.

“No reason, really. Just wanted to stretch my wings, see the world. But it looks to me like you rookies could use the help. I might just stick around to lend a talon.” Eagle continued to flap his wings to hover about a meter off the ground, extending a yellow claw-like foot. Chat Noir was the first to recognize the strange gesture, taking the talon in his hand to awkwardly shake it.

“I wouldn’t say we’re rookies anymore. We’ve been at this since late 2015, and my partner is a quick learner.” He said, motioning to Ladybug with his free hand.

“This fight might not have been the best measure of skill. We’ve had better.” Ladybug said with confidence.

“That was a great shot, by the way. How do you even aim from that far away?” It was more of a compliment than a question.

Eagle preened a bit at the praise, but a realization sank in and he started looking left and right for something.

“I’m happy to talk. But I need a perch.” He said with a pant. The bridge they were speaking on had wide stone banisters that where just as bad to land on at the road. Finding a railing on the nearby riverbank, he glided over to rest. His new acquaintances joined him shortly.

“Much better. Big birds like me are better suited for soarin’ than stayin’ in one spot. Talons aren’t great for standin’ around either. Now, you mind tell me what on Earth I just shot?”

The three heroes talked for a few minutes, discussing the nature of the local supervillain and how to fight his victims, when they were interrupted by the sound skidding bike tires. Looking over, they saw Alya all but rip off her helmet as she jogged over to them.

“I was wondering when our favorite junior reporter would show up.” Chat said to no one in particular. He then turned to his feathered friend and added, “I don’t know what I was like where you come from, but we stay in character for interviews here.”

“Gotcha.” Eagle said, articulating a feather near the end of his wing to give a make shift thumbs up. Alya descended upon him a second later while demanding an interview.

Adrien walked into class the next morning to find Alya snoring quietly on her desk. He knew exactly what had kept her up last night, but he needed to act natural. So he did what he would do naturally and let the girl sleep by asking Nino instead.

“I’m used to seeing Marinette tired in the morning, but not Alya. Something happen?”

“Dude, you didn’t hear? She snagged an exclusive interview with the new hero in town. Couldn’t sleep at all, she was so stoked.”

Alya awoke suddenly at the words, startling everyone in the classroom.

“Eagle was so nice, he’s great at interviews. And his powers are so cool! Perfect vision all the way to the horizon and he can shoot anything he can see and fly and…” Alya lost steam mid-sentence and fell back asleep.

Marinette had heard her friend’s outburst from the hall and giggled as she walked in. She, too, knew exactly why Alya was so tired. What she didn’t know was why Amoux looked completely drained as well. The boy was mumbling something in his sleep that she could not quite understand.

“Little guy’s been sleep talking in English all morning. Something about fish, I think.” Ivan answered Marinette’s question before she could even ask. The large boy may not be the best at expressing himself verbally, but he could be downright poetic when he wrote. Just last month he had won a writing competition, yet could barely speak two words in front of the class without getting tongue tied.

“The jetlag must have finally caught up with him. I’ll make sure to take good notes for him.” Ivan and Amoux had made quick friends, bonding over their shared difficulties with French. Sharing a desk meant Amoux had someone to turn to whenever he was at a loss for words in class, and he returned the favor the best he could when Ivan couldn’t think of what to say.

Adrien overheard all this and couldn’t help but wonder just how far Amoux had moved to come to Paris.

8000 kilometers away, a young woman flops on the couch after a long night. She loves her job, but her hours are ridiculous. Flipping on the tv, she starts the recording of the news from that morning right as her roommate gets her key in the door.

“[One of these nights I’m gonna beat you home.]” Comes the voice from the entry way.

“[Fat chance, babe. You know I can outrun lightning.]”

She was about to formulate another brag when she was distracted from there friendly competition by the first headline.

“[Alex! Get in here!]”

“[Sophia, what’s wrong? Did we miss something?]” Said Alex, dropping her purse as her roommate rewound the recorded new cast. The two of them got most of their info from the news but were too busy to watch it in the morning. It was not uncommon for them to hear the news of some important event happening in the next town over a day late.

“[Breaking news this morning, local superhero Eagle has resurfaced in Paris after going into an unofficial retirement last fall.]” The broadcast cuts to a surprisingly professional cellphone interview with Eagle, speaking in subtitled French with the Eifel Tower serving as a backdrop. A pause symbol appears on the screen, covering the hero’s face.

Alex was speechless, fiddling with her damp hair out of habit. She looks down at her roommate on the couch and finds a growing grin on her face. But it was not just a happy-to-know-he’s-alive grin. It was much more than that.

“[Sophia, I know that look.]” She said with some hesitation.

“[Hey. How long do you think it would take you to swim to Europe?]” She asked, hopping up to her knees to better speak with her roommate behind the couch. There was no hypothetical tone to be had.

Accustomed to interviewers and bystanders asking similar questions, Alex gave a canned response without thinking.

“[Well if we’re smart and go through Canada, Greenland, Iceland, and the UK so I can rest, it would be about as fast as flying if you…Wait, you don’t really mean-]”

“[HELL YEAH! Grab your passports and the Red Visas! We’re going to Paris!]” Sophia shouted loud enough to earn a thump of a broom handle through the floor from an annoyed neighbor.

“[I want to see our little fledgling as much as you do but we can’t just…]” Alex started, but found herself disarmed by the puppy dog pout on Sophia’s face. How can this woman can go from ecstatic to puppy pout so fast?

“[Fiiiiiine. I’ll call the mayor. You handle the border crossings. And let me sleep in, please?]” Alex said, preemptively covering Sophia’s mouth to keep her from screaming again. Moving her hand away once the excitement had cooled a bit, her roommate gave her a quick peck on the check.

“[Babe, I’ll make you French Toast when you wake up. We should compare with the real French Toast when we get there.]”

“[I look forward to it. Let’s just hope Phoenix can cover for us while we are gone.]” Alex mused. Phoenix didn’t have any powers, but manages to defuse the situation well enough when only civilians are involved. A buff stranger in a spandex suit showing up out of nowhere is enough to make most people reconsider their actions.

“[Relax. Phoenix and the police can handle the petty crime, and the National Guard is more than ready for any natural disasters. We just need to give them the heads up before we go.]”

Alex sighed. Once her roommate got an idea going she charged right on through to the end, sometimes literally. The only thing that could stop her was the ground giving out. Resigning herself to the inevitable, Alex turned her thoughts to the logistics of the trip.

“[Better head down to the store then. We’re gonna need a lot of almonds and chocolate.]”

By the lunch break, Marinette’s sleepy friends had more or less recovered. Amoux had promised to repay her kindness by bring her lunch once his family had unpacked the kitchen enough to make a proper dish, and Alya had brought her own lunch to join them. They went to the park to sit in the grass.

Marinette had been expecting a stereotypical American dish, so she was surprised when she was presented with something shiny.

“This is honey-molasses chicken. It’s baked in a sweet and sticky sauce and can be enjoyed cold or hot.” He handed her a container that unfolded into a plate, as well as a cloth napkin.

“I prefer it cold because it is easier to picnic.” He then picked up his own piece of chicken with both hands and began eating. The girls were taken aback by his lack of table manners. Sensing this, Amoux continued.

“It’s meant to be eaten in hand. Just use your thumb and two fingers on each hand for better control and you won’t make a mess of yourself.” He said with a smile, as if finding it laughable to use silverware when fingers were the superior utensil.

Marinette did her best to copy his technique and took a dainty bite. Then another. Soon she didn’t care how barbaric any passerby thought her eating was. This chicken was unlike anything she had tasted before and she needed the recipe.

As she was cleaning her lips, she felt two familiar presences behind her. She wasn’t sure which would be worse seeing her like this, Adrien or Chloe, so with uncommon bravery she turned to face both.

“Adrien! Hi.” She said as sweetly as she could to cover up her internal screaming. If anything, her crush seemed amused with the tiny amounts of sauce on the corners of her mouth. He raised his hand in greeting but was cut short by Chloe, waving her phone at her target.

“Marinette, you absolute slob. Go clean yourself up before you make the whole park dirty.” Marinette had half a mind to use Chloe herself as a napkin. But a calm voice to her side stopped her, and Chloe.

“Miss? Are you not terribly late?”

Chloe froze and her eyes went wide. Scrambling for the phone already in her hand to check the time, she unsilenced it and was immediately inundated with text messages. She gave a panicked yelp and ran off towards the school. The stunned silence that followed lasted until Chloe was out of sight.

“How did you do that?” Marinette and Alya asked breathlessly.

“Simple. She was receiving texts nonstop but was too distracted to notice. The…um…small yellow faces? They looked urgent.”

“You knew she was late from emojis?” Adrien asked in disbelief. He had seen his classmates do amazing things as if it was nothing, but this took the cake.

“Phones are built to be read. People are what is hard to read.”

That was all the explanation they were likely going to get. Yet another cryptic, figurative wave of the hand to shed a little light on his skills.

“The mean yellow girl was partially right. We do need to clean ourselves.” Amoux said while getting to his feet. He offered a napkin covered hand to assist Marinette, and they were off to the bakery to wash their hands in peace.

Alex woke up at noon to the smell of French Toast and practically floated down the hall to the kitchen.

“[Morning, babe. Better eat quick. We need to head out by one if we want to be in France at a reasonable hour.]” Sophia greeted her roommate. She set down a plate of eight slices of French Toast, a full bottle of syrup, a two sliced bananas, and a fork.

“[You’re the best.]” Alex said with only a hint of sleep, hugging her roommate and nuzzling her ear before sitting down to breakfast. As she ate, Sophia went to the phone to make some last-minute calls.

“[You think I should call the Mariners to cancel my appearance next Saturday?]” She asked from the hall, just out of sight of the kitchen.

“[If we’re not back by then we have bigger problems.]” Alex replied, already cutting up her second slice. Her roommate nodded in agreement. Sophia instead dialed the non-emergency number for the Emergency Dispatch Center and cleared her throat. A small voice came over the phone once it connected.

“[Hi Paula, good to hear you back in the call center after that ferry accident…]”

Alex tuned her out as she ate the rest of her breakfast. She was not usually the kind of girl to lick her plate, but she knew she would need the calories today. Walking over to the pantry, she pushed aside the five-pound bag of chocolate chips to retrieve an unopened jar of almonds. Eating a few and setting the open jar on the counter, she checked the calendar on the refrigerator. The only thing of note she would be missing in her civilian life was the start of Copper River season. It was a guilty pleasure to say the least, but she was searching for an old friend and sacrifices needed to be made.

“[I could only get a hold of the KOMO news network, but they said they would get the word out to the other stations.]” Sophia said, popping her head back into the kitchen.

“[Cool. Let’s make sure we have everything ready.]” Alex picked up the large bags of almonds and chocolate chips and walked to the bedroom, passing the now empty jar on the counter. The tiny grey mermaid lying next to it was rubbing its belly.

“[Pack ‘em in the best you can, Oncoor. You’ll need it.]” All she got as a response was a tiny wave of a hand and an equally tiny burp.

The two young women spread everything they would need for the trip out on the bed. Alex read off the check list for her roommate, while Sophia made a show of holding up whatever item was called.

“[Snacks?]” “[Totally.]” “[Cell phones?]” “[With water proof cases and roaming plan.]” “[GPS?]” “[Military grade.]” “[Passports?]” “[Two for you, Two for me.]” “[Visas?]” “[Full diplomatic immunity.]” “[Jewelry?]” “[Like we ever take those off.]” “[Money?]” “[1346 Euros in cash.]”

Alex looked up from the list to give Sophia a questioning look.

“[What? I know you have a big wad to Canadian money in the sock drawer.]”

“[It’s not the money I’m worried about. Do you really not take that off to wash your hair?]”

Sophia gave a nervous laugh and set to packing. Behind her on the nightstand sat a small elk-like creature trying and failing to stifle a laugh.

“[Itippa would get lonely if I did.]”

Ladybug crotched on a high ledge of Notre Dame. She had been forced to give up patrolling on a regular basis because of school and fashion projects. Some weeks she barely had time to fight an akuma when one appeared, let alone actively searching for one. Chat assured her that he could patrol the city well enough and would put the word out if he found anything too serious. And he had been a cat of his word.

Tonight, she wasn’t looking for crime or akumas. Ladybug was looking for the hero she had met the night before. They had talked shop, but she next to nothing about him. Sure, she had rewatched the interview on the Ladyblog and knew what his powers were, but she needed to know if Eagle could be trusted. While it seemed to be a rule that only one akuma could exist at a time, the resent dip in activity might be an omen of that no longer being the case. One akuma to be the monster and another to be the hero. Volpina had pretended to be a hero and turned out evil, so who could say it wouldn’t happen again. The fact that Eagle had some uncanny similarities with Dark Cupid only deepened her worries.

“You seem pensive, My Lady.” Chat Noir said a few paces away. Ladybug had gotten used to Chat sneaking up on her, so she didn’t jump. She stood to meet him at eye level.

“I just want to talk with Eagle again. To make sure we are all on the same page. Superhero culture is different in America, so I wanted to lay some ground rules before something goes wrong.” She said, condensing her thoughts from the last half hour.

“Well if yer looking for a bird of prey, you need to look up.” Came a familiar voice from above. Looking up the two saw Eagle holding onto a spire with both talons, holding himself vertical with a curled wingtip. He dismounted and glided silently down to them, finding the head of a gargoyle the perfect size to perch on.

“Look out Chat. Might have some competition for stealthiest hero.”

“That’s unfair, My Lady! He has no footsteps to speak of.” He defended dramatically. He knew Ladybug was joking. Eagle certainly found it funny and had a hearty chuckle at their banter.

“Now, what are these ground rule you want me to know?”

Ladybug took a moment to collect her talking points before speaking.

“Well first of all, you should know we have the government’s cooperation, not their support. We’ve on our own for the most part, and we certainly are not paid to do this. Don’t start giving orders to law enforcement unless you have to.” This seemed to take Eagle by surprise, but he did not interrupt.

“Second, we keep our identities secret, even from each other. The fewer people know, the better. Might as well keep that number at zero.” At this Eagle looked a little shocked, as if it was useful information being locked away from the people that could use it most.

“And lately, we prioritize saving civilians over preventing property damage. As you have seen, I can repair any physical damage. But I can’t fix the phycological damage from people getting hurt.” This seemed to stir up some bad memories in Eagle.

“Wait, American heroes get paid? Not that I need the money but…whoa, hey, you okay buddy?” Chat read Eagle’s ashamed look and knew right away that late rule had struck a chord. Ladybug noticed once her partner mentioned it and was already mentally backpedaling to come up with something to make him feel better.

“I’m fine. Just remembering what led up to me leaving Seattle. Saved ten lives at the cost of a corporate headquarters burning down. Whole lot of investors threatened to pull their companies out of the superhero program. It…was a bad week for all of us.” He said with empty eyes. It seemed like a small miracle to hold his composure, but that accent of his had fallen completely.

Ladybug reached up to run her hand along his wing in what she hoped was a soothing manner. Chat empathized with his distaste of money focused authority figures.

“Do your partners know? Why you left?” Ladybug asked quietly. Now it was Eagle’s turn to collect his thoughts.

“They do. They came to my defense anytime I spoke out against the program, even if they would not speak themselves. But…I kinda fell off the face of the Earth when I left. They’ve done well enough on their own, from what I’ve heard.”

The three heroes stood in silence for a few moments, not sure how to move on from such weighty revelations in the presence of those they did not know well. Eagle was the first to speak again.

“If those were the ground rules you wanted, then I accept. Now, if you will excuse me, I think I have a letter to write.” With that, he spread his wings and disappeared into the night.

Chat and Ladybug lingered, still processing. Without speaking they mutually agreed to start their patrol, if only to clear their heads.

A few blocks away, two damp young women climbed the stairs up the river bank to an open plaza. One woman had an arm slung across the shoulders of the other for support.

“[You really didn’t have to swim that last leg. It was my turn.]” Sophia said to an exhausted Alex.

“[Oh, no. I’m not having you running at a thousand miles an hour on a sprained wrist. Besides, you ran out of chocolate to feed your kwami back in Oxford.]”

“[Possibly sprained wrist. And I would have been faster. The Seine was super bendy.]”

Years of experience had taught them that they could openly talk about their powers in public and people would either think they were massive nerds, drunk, or both. The fact that only tourists spoke English here helped too.

Alex was about to point out that her partner still wouldn’t have been able to run across northern France on account of a lack of chocolate. But a realization made her stop walking, bringing Sophia to a stop with her. It was a moment before she was able to admit to the problem, having made the checklist.

“[We forgot to get a hotel, didn’t we?]”

Sophia went from curious as to why they stopped to concern for where they were going. With all the chaos of putting together the trip on such short notice they had both focused on the journey, with no thought of what to do once they got there other than tracking down Eagle and get some solid answers.

Both women looked up and down the streets that came to the plaza, but everything just looked residential to them. Would it kill them to put up some hotel-looking signs?

“You ladies look a little lost.” Came an unnaturally clear male voice from a nearby rooftop. The two sighed in relief as they recognized the standard Hero Voice that they themselves used when they were on the clock. Too bad they didn’t understand a word he said.

A second later they were joined by a boy in black leather with cat ears and a girl in red and black polka dot seamless spandex. Both wore familiar shaped masks.

Sophia acted fast and pulled the English to French dictionary out of her backpack while reciting the French version of ‘we don’t speak your language’ she had memorized. Fortunately, she had been to Canada enough times to know where in the dictionary to look for what she needed.

“Our travel plans failed. We need a hotel.” She managed to say without much delay.

“I got this, Chat. [You sound like you are from America. I speak some English, so you can put the dictionary away.]” Little miss red said in academic English. The cat boy seemed impressed that his partner had the ability.

“[Oh thank god. We just need some directions to a place we can stay until morning. Then we can figure out how to handle the rest of our trip.]” Said Alex, who could feel her feet throbbing from all the swimming she had done. Powered up, she might have been able to swim another ten miles. But the thought of going even a city block on dry land felt like torture.

As Chat Noir and Ladybug leapt away from the lost travelers they had helped, they both found it easier to talk. The weight to their discussion with Eagle no longer bogged them down.

“It’s nice to just help out civilians in need for a change. Feels like all we ever do is fight akumas and muggers.” Ladybug said brightly. She liked the feeling of being a good Samaritan.

“You need to come out on patrol more often, then. It’s not all about catching crooks.” Chat said with a smirk. Ladybug could only sigh at the pun. She wouldn’t admit it, at least not tonight, that she did enjoy his puns. It was a shame that he seemed to be off him game from not seeing her during the break in akuma activity.

“Speaking of civilians, did you notice anything odd about those tourists?” Chat asked with a semi-serious tone, prompting Ladybug to give it some semi-serious thought.

“Now that you mention it, their hair was soaked but their clothes were dry. They looked exhausted and were by the river…You don’t think…”

Chat Noir paused his rooftop running and Ladybug followed suit. They exchanged a long look of contemplation, wordlessly going over the facts. Surely they had not been swimming this late at night.

“Nah!” The two heroes said in unison, both stretching out an arm and flicking their wrists downward as if to swat the ridiculous idea out of the air. They laughed at the thought of the two of them coming to the same conclusion on such flimsy evidence.

“But did you see her red pearl earrings? I should have asked where she got them.” Ladybug said while flipping her hair to flash her own earrings.

“I was too distracted by the other woman’s jewelry. It looked like she had little antlers wrapped around her ear.”

“It was a pretty nice ear cuff. Too bad it’s not really my style.”

The duo went back to their patrol, lightheartedly discussing what accessory they would pick to hold their Miraculous if they had to choose a new one.

Amoux sat down to his writing desk in a bedroom that was still new to him. Call him old fashioned, but he wanted to write this letter by hand. He had neglected to tell his friends back in Seattle that he was moving to Paris, and they deserved an explanation. Two friends in particular deserved the whole truth.

He briefly considered writing two letters, but they shared an address. Reading such an important message would best be done together.

As he wrote, he started over many times until he was sure he had included everything. Signing his name, he added a drawing of a sleek black feather to match the pin on his collar. It was only when the envelope was sealed that he remembered he would need international postage stamps.

“[If only I could hand deliver this.]”

Author’s Notes:

-This was very much a test fic when it started, to see if I could write in this universe. It just spiraled out of control with all the headcanons I wanted to throw in.

-As long as this fic was, it doesn’t contain the scene I day dreamed that inspired the rest of the fic. Expect at least one more chapter.

-At first I wanted to sprinkle in some French like I see in other author’s fics, but with the whole [brackets for English] business going on it didn’t make sense.

Chapter 2>>

#Miraculous Ladybug #ladybug #chat noir #alya cesaire #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #fan fic #OCs #OC heroes #A Hero's Vacation

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ifninomiko · 7 years

Text

Cablepool Summer Camp AU: Blue Sheets, Green Sheets

This title ... try to keep the mind out of the gutter. I know, it’s hard. Heh, hard. XD

My frustrations with Archipelago continue, so of course I end up in Summer Camp AU. This still needs a better title ... especially if I should ever hope to post it on Ao3.

Series: Summer Camp AU (High School AU)

Notes: No one has any powers

Pairings: Nathan Summers/Wade Wilson, Scott Summers/Emma Frost

Scene Summary: Taking place before Nate even starts school at Marvel High (so before everything posted thus far).

There's a new school administration in town and they leave Scott in no doubt as to who is really in charge of his child. There’s also a boat and a fight.

Warnings: This is a write and post adventure. Everything is a rough draft? Unreliable narration. Accept it.

Emma always checked the mail when she came over to Scott's house. It was a compulsive habit she never made any real effort to break. See mailbox, check it. Sometimes Scott managed to get the mail first, sometimes she did ... and since summer camp Nathan had been pathologically checking the mail as well. Emma smiled to herself. Someone had been expecting something. It was cute. He must have met a nice girl in the town by Camp Facade.

This time the mailbox was full to the brim, one large packet in particular crowding the smaller letters. She emptied the mail box and held the pile in her arms as she walked up the path to the house and unlocked the door, pushing it open with her hip ... and walked into a scene of drama and despair.

"I would have rather lived on grandad's boat if it meant we could stay in San Diego!" Nathan voice rose sharp enough to make it crack, standing straight and defiant on the other side of the table from his father. He had grown nearly four inches in the weeks since summer camp and had a tendency to hunch, self conscious and awkward about his sudden height, especially around Emma now that his latest growth spurt had made him taller than her.

Even after a year of dating Scott, his son remained as politely distant as a teenage boy was capable of (so not very polite, but definitely distant). By now, Emma didn't think Nathan would ever warm up to her and she was fine with that. It was acceptable to her that they remained polite acquaintances who shared Scott's affections. She knew that Scott wished they would be more. Emma thought he should worry more about his own relationship with Nathan.

"Moving the boat would have been too expensive and time consuming even if it was still capable of making the journey," Scott said with careful reasonableness, the sort of careful that meant he was controlling his temper.

"Then you could have sold this house and mom's house to pay for it," Nathan shot back.

"I'm not selling this house -- "

"Why not? You don't have any problems selling mom's house," Nathan hissed back, infuriated and obviously hurt, "If I have to lose my home, then why shouldn't you?"

"Nathan!" Scott snapped, "That's enough! We're not moving back to San Diego. I have a job here. Emma has a job here. You're already enrolled in school. It's done."

"You just don't want to keep anything of grandpa's!"

"You don't even know your grandfather! You never met him!"

Nathan stepped back as if he had been hit, "And whose fault is that?"

It was Scott's turn to step back as if he had been struck, opening his mouth to reply and Emma didn't even want to know what he'd have replied because the fight had obviously been going downhill since it started ... but Nathan whirled and left the room, slamming the door to his room shortly thereafter.

Emma hid her wince behind the mail as she shuffled through it, sorting it out on the tabletop.

Scott slumped at the sound of the door slamming, pulling his glasses off to rub his face with a groan. "That ... did not go well." He put his glasses back on with a sigh, "Emma?"

"Hello, dear," Emma said lightly, tilting her head to accept Scott's kiss as he rounded the counter to greet her, "What was that all about?"

"He found out that dad had left a house boat as well as the house," Scott shook his head.

"He left Nathan the house boat," Emma pointed out, maybe a little too pointedly.

"Which, as his guardian, I can either keep in trust for him or sell and keep the money in trust," Scott retorted, "and since maintaining a house boat that Nathan can't use is a waste ... "

"Scott ... " Emma sighed and turned to put her hands on his shoulders, "You shouldn't make that decision for him. You've made a lot of decisions recently without even asking his opinion ... let alone something like this."

"He's never been on that boat. He's never even seen that boat. It's a dump. It's all red shag and wood paneling and gaudy brass fixtures. It's a floating love shack from the sixties and my dad must have been crazy to leave it to a teenage boy ... who does not need his own private hideaway for romance and piracy."

"We can at least look at it," Emma said, quite reasonably, she felt, "It sounds like it needs updating. You and Nathan could fix it up together on the weekends and then sell it."

She could see Scott waver at the idea of father-son bonding time fixing up a tacky old boat, but then he shook his head, "No. It's going to be even harder to get rid of this thing if he gets invested in it and wants to keep it."

"Darling ... I'm beginning to think I want to keep this boat. You'd look very fetching in a sailor's hat as you take me on a romantic cruise," Emma smirked.

"Very funny," Scott huffed indignantly.

Emma grinned and leaned against him, running a hand down his chest, "Just think ... you, me, the gentle rocking of the ocean as we make love ... "

"The pitter patter of little rat feet when one of them runs over your bare legs."

"What?" Emma's hand froze. She looked up, narrowing her eyes, "You're making that up."

"I'm not," Scott shook his head, "The last time I was in that boat, I was reading in the main cabin and a rat ran over my leg."

"Darling," Emma said seriously, "burn this boat at once."

Scott snickered.

"I'm serious!"

He kissed her on the forehead, smiling fondly.

"You can't suffer a rat to live," Emma said, annoyed, "They're filthy, disease ridden animals."

"Which is why we're going to sell it and let it be someone else's tasteless rat infested shack," Scott said and changed the subject, "What did we get in the mail?"

Emma pinned him with look that communicated how she was letting him change the subject only because she loved him, but the previous subject wouldn't be forgotten. She stepped away and picked up the packet, handing it to Scott, "The school sent you a letter."

"Is this a school letter or a debrief?" Scott asked, disbelief and amazement in equal parts as he hefted the package. They had gotten smaller mail packets from the insurance company ... and those were practically novels. "I don't remember Principal Xavier sending -- "

"Xavier's not the Principal anymore," Emma interrupted him as she opened the fridge and contemplated the interior. Should they have leftovers for dinner perhaps?

Scott stopped his entire sentence, turning to look at her, mildly horrified at the prospect, "He's not?"

"No. A Nicholas Fury is."

"But ... what happened to Xavier?" Scott said, sounding lost, like a precious portion of his childhood had suddenly been ripped away.

"Retired, I think," Emma hummed, "It was bound to happen, he was already old when we were in school. Fury was his replacement."

"I remember this now from Nathan's enrollment," Scott sighed and dug in a drawer for a letter opener, "I just keep thinking Fury was the Vice Principal instead of the Principal. Principal Xavier was such a fixture."

As valedictorian of their graduating class, Scott might have been something of a favorite of that old man, but Emma didn't miss him. "Well, it seems that Fury made some rather sweeping changes. Kitty was talking about it at work today."

"Dear god," Scott said, helplessly sorting through the pages included in the packet, the papers color coded and itemized. "I have to send all the blue ones back to the school before they'll even let him in the door. They won't send me his homeroom assignment until after they get these back. This is ... this is extortion!"

"So you did read the entire cover letter?" Emma asked innocently.

"That was a threat! To my life and limb if I should dare to ignore their missive!"

"It wasn't that bad," Emma said mildly, smirking behind her cup of hot cocoa.

"I've been told I'm remanding my child to their custody until such time as they see fit to return him!"

"It didn't say that."

"It heavily implied it! He's going to school, not joining the army!"

"Don't say that too loudly, Nathan might decide to join the army just to spite you."

"No," Scott was horrified at the mere thought, "not my baby."

"You never knew him as a baby," Emma pointed out relentlessly, "That's half your problem."

Scott buried his head in his hands with a groan. Emma sipped at her cocoa. She was more sympathetic that she made herself out to be, but at the moment, she felt more sympathy for Nathan than for Scott. Scott was the adult. Nathan was fifteen. He was at the age where rebelling against his father should come as no great surprise.

All of Nathan's complaints thus far were not completely unreasonable. He hadn't been consulted over the move. His wishes had been ignored. He had been taken from his home and shuttled across the country without warning on what seemed to be his father's whim.

That would have been bad enough, but when Nathan had come home from summer camp, Scott had presented the move as fait accompli. Summer camp had merely been a shallow excuse to get Nathan out of the way so Scott could do exactly as he wished without having to deal with his son.

Scott should be counting his blessings that the winter of Nathan's discontent was thus far only composed of door slamming, backtalk, relentless sighing, and moody staring out of windows.

"You've always had to fill out the paperwork that Nathan brings home on the first week of school," Emma said calmly, "This school is just more organized that you're used to. They've cut out the student involvement and sent the paperwork in advance."

Scott sighed, scrubbing at his hair, "I don't remember us having to do this when we were at school."

"Times change," Emma shrugged, "and how do you know it didn't happen? Your parents would have handled it, not you."

"That's true," Scott admitted, "the blue sheets are alright. It's the green sheets that fill me with dread."

"Oh?"

"The green are optional permission slips for additional classes. If I don't fill them out, then Nathan won't be attending them."

"Oh, you mean like sex ed classes?" Emma asked with an air of bright innocence, smirking as Scott groaned as if in pain, "Well! That is convenient! Now you won't have to give him The Talk." The capitals were obvious in her pronunciation.

"I still have to give him the talk," Scott winced, "And it's not just sex ed ... there's a class for appropriate dress and one for dancing and one for ... application of make-up? And here's one for CPR and another for fire safety and one for driving ... and there are just ... a lot of these."

Emma's eyebrows lifted in surprise, "That's a lot of classes."

"I should sign him up for CPR. That is a useful life skill," Scott said slowly, staring at the green stack.

"Maybe," Emma said gently, "you should let Nathan pick which of the green classes he wants to take."

"But what if he doesn't pick the right ones?"

"If he doesn't take CPR now, he can take it later when he realizes how useful it can be," Emma said with a shrug before adding somewhat pointedly, "It's just high school, Scott. It's not like it's the rest of his life."

#Fanfiction #Cablepool #High School AU #Summer Camp AU #Scott Summers #Cyclops #Emma Frost #White Queen #Nathan Summers #Cable

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dracimalfoy1988292 · 3 years

Text

She was never happier. After ignoring any requests from Tom for nearly a week, she felt like a new woman. Well, Tom hadn't exactly sought after her, but she wanted to look on the bright side.

"What're you so cheerful about?" Walburga asked as Elizabeth sat down next to her in the Potions classroom.

Elizabeth had been involuntarily smiling all day, "Nothing, I just feel really... optimistic."3

"Alright... anyways, I was hoping you could help me. I was planning on having a celebration this weekend," she started.

Elizabeth looked at her curiously, "A celebration for what, exactly?"

Walburga scoffed, "A celebration for what, my arse. Beth, my birthday!"1

"Oh, truly sorry, I must have forgotten," Elizabeth told her honestly.3

"Whatever, we need to figure out a theme of some sort that everyone who is attending will follow, I was thinking sort of a masquerade...," she kept talking and talking.48

Elizabeth noticed that behind her, Tom and his group were taking their seats. She hadn't spoken with him since he put her under the Imperious curse. In all honesty, she just assumed he didn't know that she was aware of it. She didn't even notice that she had been staring at him until their eyes met. It wasn't like it had been before. Her stomach didn't do a leap, and she didn't feel happy that he even noticed her. She felt nothing. It was just as if she made eye contact with a stranger.90

"Hello, love," Joshua surprised Elizabeth by wrapping his arm around her as he sat down in the seat next to her.8

Tom looked away and angrily grabbed the textbook from his bag. He was enraged that Elizabeth hadn't communicated with him in all that time. Tom reckoned that Joshua was behind it.79

Bonnie came in and sat down next to Walburga, followed by Klaus and Matilda, who sat across from each other at the nearest table. Melissa sat down with them and was shortly joined by Henry.1

"Joshua, you prepared for the Quidditch game tomorrow night?" Klaus asked loudly from the other table.

He shrugged, "I believe so, we haven't played Hufflepuff in quite some time."

"Well, they've beat Slytherin nearly four times," Matilda pointed out. "You'd better be ready," she concluded with a laugh.

Professor Slughorn made a sort of wobbly entrance to the room. "Alright class, I have prepared a lesson for today, but first an announcement for those in the Slug Club. We will have dinner tonight, wear your best!"1

Joshua groaned, "I don't understand why he won't let me join his bloody club."

"He has favorites and everyone knows it," Walburga rolled her eyes.

"Class, please pay attention to the cauldron in front of me. Today we will be brewing an Elixir to Induce Euphoria. This is a powerful potion that has the ability to induce a sense of inexplicable happiness upon the drinker. It even has the strength to cure certain cases of depression," Professor Slughorn explained. He began talking about the ingredients as well as mixing them in.191

Elizabeth felt a pair of eyes on her. She knew who it was. It was the only person who really knew how to aggravate someone. Resisting him in person was harder said than done. He was incredibly persuasive and was a pathological liar. Finally giving in, she glanced over slowly. Sure enough, Tom was looking at her. His eyes were so focused and they had such anger held within them. After a moment, Elizabeth shook her head in a small, slow motion. Tom grew even more tense as she looked away. He needed her.90

"And then finally, once you've added the Woodworm, stir the potion six times in an anti-clockwise motion. If your end result is a yellow liquid resembling infinite sunshine and happiness, then you have performed excellently. Now, off to work, page forty!" Slughorn waved them off.2

Elizabeth opened her book. She gathered the ingredients and began adding Shrivelfig. They had made this potion once before at Baxtart's. She remembered the pain she went through after keeping a vile of the elixir to take back to a young boy. His sister had just been killed. One of the disciplinary advisors used a spell on her that made her experience all of the pain she'd ever felt in her life, except twice as bad. It was a curse that her Potions professor had created. The memory made Elizabeth's head hurt.3

She dropped a few porcupine quills into the bubbling liquid. Elizabeth always liked making potions. They calmed her nerves.

After going through the rest of the steps, she added the Wormwood, causing the potion to turn yellow. She stirred it anti-clockwise six times. "Professor, I've finished," Elizabeth told Slughorn, who was helping Bonnie across the table.

"Oh my, let me come take a look," he set down Bonnie's Sopophorous beans and waddled over to her. "This is perfect," he whispered. "Everyone, please congratulate Miss Maryn on her potion!" Slughorn went back to the front of the room.

The students clapped for a brief moment. "Good job, love," Joshua kissed her on the cheek.45

The words made Tom nearly snap his porcupine quills in half. He wanted to murder Joshua. Not for a Horcrux or anything meaningful, he just wanted him gone. "How would you fancy I take him out?" Tom asked Abraxas.94

"Who, Corrington?" Abraxas asked, setting his stirrer down. "Well, I'm sure if you blew him up, the explosion would still be smaller than his ego, so I'd choose something painful rather than extravagant," he rolled his eyes.40

Tom genuinely laughed, "You really are my favorite, Malfoy. Lestrange would have just muttered something, but you truly see eye to eye with me on these things. However, you are correct, it needs to be something to make him feel pain, rather than let everyone know he's dead."33

"What is the most painful spell that she's taught you?" Abraxas asked.3

"Well, there is this one that turns your skin inside out, although I would rather just go the old fashion way with the Killing Curse," Tom pointed out. "I wouldn't want to cause myself the trouble of using an interesting spell on that oaf."

Abraxas chuckled, "What are you planning on using one of the better ones for?"

"Might try one on the other boy, Asher, I believe," Tom shrugged.15

Elizabeth gave a side eye towards Tom. She wanted to ask him how he was doing, just to see. The stress of wanting to talk to him made her feel sick. "Professor, could I be excused?" Elizabeth asked Slughorn who was passing by.1

"Of course," he answered, waving her off. He had obviously forgotten about the traveling in pairs rule.

She stood and tried her hardest not to look at Tom, but she couldn't help herself. He was so hard to ignore. Trying to be as discreet as possible, she glanced over to where he sat in the back of the room. Of course, he saw her. Being the narcissistic man he was, he thought she was telling him to meet her. A moment after she exited, he stood and slipped out of the classroom.

"Elizabeth," he called after her as she walked up the stairs. She didn't acknowledge him. "You aren't seriously ignoring me?"9

She kept walking and went straight into the lavatory. As she attempted to close the door to her cubicle, he opened it. She didn't even need to use the toilet, she just wanted to be away from him.1

"You have to stop following me," Elizabeth told him, attempting to close the door. He opened it wider and entered, closing it behind him. "I don't want to speak to you anymore, do you understand?"

"Why, because Corrington gave you that pathetic excuse for a ring?" he spat between gritted teeth. Elizabeth didn't respond. "You know he's just doing that to weaken you, right?"

Elizabeth looked down at the floor, not wanting to answer, "Get out, Riddle."

He dramatically put his hand over his heart, as if it physically pained him that she didn't call him by his first name. "You want to go at it like that?"13

"I'm not fooling around, now you need to stop following me before something happens to you!"1

"Before... something happens?" he raised an eyebrow and took a step closer to her. "What would you do to me?"36

She felt her wand tucked into the waistband of her skirt. Elizabeth moved her hand towards it, but Tom grabbed her wrist.

"You don't want to do that," he whispered.

Elizabeth yanked her wrist out of his grip, "If I didn't have one shred of mercy, I would have killed you a long time ago."

"A bit tense there? Is Corrington not doing his job correct-."73

"Stupefy!" Elizabeth shouted, barely having pulled her wand out in time. Tom flew back, breaking the stall door and landing on the ground. He had been knocked unconscious. "Send me a postcard from wherever you wake up," she muttered and put one of her personal favorite curses on him. It sent the target to the direct opposite of wherever they were in the world. After he disappeared, she repaired the stall and wiped off her robes, which had gotten a bit of broken wood on them. She grinned maliciously, looking down at her wand.206

She hasn't done anything that cruel in a while, but the familiar feeling came back to her that she had been taught to enjoy. The feeling of power pounded in her head. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. She wanted to do it again.122

"You look gorgeous, Beth," Matilda gushed. "I do really wish Joshua was in the Slug Club so that he could see you like this."

"Me too," Elizabeth looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing her favorite red dress. It was tight, but flared out from her waist down to her ankles. She wore a brown fur coat over it. "He'll be escorting me to and from the dinner, though."

Matilda sat down on Elizabeth's bed. "Beth," she started. "Have you and Joshua... you know, done it yet?"5

Elizabeth stopped fixing her hair in the mirror and turned around, "No, not yet."

"Do you think you will soon?" Matilda questioned.

"I don't know," Elizabeth answered. "Should I?"

Matilda smiled, "Of course, it's a crucial step in any relationship."107

"It is?"3

"Yes! If you ever need any tips or anything for when you do decide to, you can always come to me," Matilda smiled, nodding.18

Elizabeth gave a half-hearted smile, "Thank you. I should be off, don't want to be late."

"Yes, of course," Matilda agreed. "If I don't see you tonight when you come back, goodnight," she waved as Elizabeth walked out of the door.

Elizabeth reached the top of the steps and saw that the Common Room was nearly empty except for a lanky boy in a suit.

"Are you going to Slug Club? My friends left without me," the boy explained.

"Yes, I am," Elizabeth answered. She thought of the only other Slytherins in Slug Club. He was one of Tom's boys. She didn't trust him, not at all. Elizabeth walked over to the door, "Are you coming, or what?"

The boy stood, "I'm Antonin."73

"Fantastic," she replied sarcastically as she opened the door. Yes, she was being rude, even for her, but she didn't care. Tom was aggravating her and she knew he would set his friends up to do the same.

"Were you at the Slug Club meeting before?" Antonin asked, making conversation.

Elizabeth fussed with her bracelet as she walked up the stairs, "Yes." She felt herself slowly slipping back into her old ways.2

"Oh... as was I," he replied in a small voice. She could tell he felt hurt. "Do you know Lor- er, Tom?"21

"No. Although, my friend is completely in love with him," Elizabeth told him nonchalantly. "Why, are you?"

Antonin looked down, "You could say that."49

They walked in complete silence until Elizabeth was called from across the corridor, "Elizabeth!" It was Joshua. She had completely forgotten that he was escorting her.

"Oh, hello. I'm so sorry I-," she began thinking of lies, but he waved his hands.

"No, it was completely my fault, I got caught up in my Defense Against the Dark Arts essay," he explained. As soon as he regarded Antonin, he nodded to him, "You all right, Dolohov?"3

Antonin nodded, "Just on our way to Slug Club."

"Oh, mind if I tag along? Slughorn hasn't officially welcomed me to his club," Joshua explained.

"Of course," Antonin agreed.

Elizabeth held Joshua's hand and started walking again. Antonin walked a ways in front of them as they slowly strolled down the hall. "Did I tell you that you look beautiful?" Joshua asked as he rubbed his thumb over her hand.4

"No, you didn't," Elizabeth smiled up at him.

"You do. Your new ring really goes with your dress," he told her.

Elizabeth laughed, "You just said that to point out the ring, didn't you?"

"Maybe," Joshua smiled.

She felt him looking at her. "What?" she asked.

"I am so undeniably in love with you," he whispered, the most emotional and loving look in his eyes.91

Not quite knowing what to say, she put her hand on the back of his neck, pulling her lips to his. Antonin looked back, catching Elizabeth's eye. He turned back and she thought she saw him pull up his sleeve, but she wasn't sure.76

They reached the door and Antonin entered, leaving Elizabeth and Joshua. "Come to my dormitory after your dinner. I got rid of the boys for the night."83

"I will," she smiled.

He kissed her forehead, "See you then." She waved as he walked off.

After he was gone, she opened the door and was greeted by all of the barely familiar faces from before. All of the seats were full except one. Tom was gone and she didn't feel happier. She took her seat next to Klaus and waved at him and Bonnie.

"Well, I am afraid Mr. Riddle won't be joining us toni-," Slughorn started, but stopped talking as the door creaked open again.

Tom strode in, wearing a suit and his hair had been slicked back, "Truly sorry for my lack of punctuality, professor." He sat down. "It was a bit of a walk to get here," he eyed Elizabeth.120

"That slick git," Klaus mumbled under his breath. Elizabeth heard it and tried to suppress a laugh, but snorted out a chuckle. Klaus elbowed her in the side, laughing as well and she composed herself again.

Slughorn took the opportunity as everyone was silent again to speak, "Well, this seems to be everyone. Let's eat!"

The trays floated over to the table and hovered above the surface. Students grabbed food, filling their plates.

"How was everyone's holiday? I know it's been some time, but we haven't seen each other in a while," Slughorn asked them.

Tom put his glass down, "Well, I certainly had an interesting time."19

Elizabeth held her breath and her face got red. She hadn't been this scared in so long.

"I stayed with a wonderful family on a beach," Tom told them. Elizabeth shook her head at him, desperate. Her eyes pled. "Their granddaughter and I hit it off quite well, if you know what I mean," he smirked. A few of the students chuckled.143

"Well, Tom, I think that is delightful," Slughorn sipped his glass nervously. "What about you, Elizabeth, what did you do?"

Elizabeth nearly choked on her water, "Nothing really, just caught up on some reading."3

"What'd you read?" Tom asked, purposefully trying to aggravate her.1

She ignored him and looked over to Asher, "What did you do?"

Asher looked to Tom and then back at Elizabeth, not responding. The dinner went on, the students making small talk and enjoying their company. Elizabeth thought that the dinner would end on a positive note when Slughorn noticed that Elizabeth, Tom, and Asher hadn't spoken all night, except for the beginning.

"Is there something going on?" Slughorn asked, noticing the tension.

"No it's fi-," Elizabeth started, but Klaus slammed his fork down, making the whole table shake.

"It's not fine! That bastard has been terrorizing Elizabeth for the past few months and I've been the only one not thick enough to realize it! Everyone thinks that Riddle is such a perfect student and an amazing person, but they're blinded by lies!" Klaus yelled, his face red, veins nearly popping from his neck.263

The group was silent, nobody moving. Slughorn nearly dropped his spoon, "I... I think that everyone could benefit from some rest."

"I think that's a swell idea," Bonnie mumbled. The students rose and all left as quickly as possible, talking about the events that had just transpired.

Elizabeth ran from the room, tears streaming down her cheeks. She carried her shoes

in one hand and wiped her eye with the other. Her hair was falling out of her ponytail as it whipped behind her. She couldn't handle it anymore, she just couldn't. It wasn't just what Klaus had said, it was everything. She was a terrible person and she knew it. She didn't deserve people like Klaus or Joshua. She didn't deserve any of it.28

She made it to the Gryffindor painting and she pounded on it aggressively. The woman in the painting shrieked at her, but the door finally was pulled back. Joshua was on the other side. "Elizabeth, what's wrong?"

She sank into his chest, letting him wrap his arms around her. He held her so tightly and swore that he'd die before he let her go. They held each other, walking up the stairs holding hands, Elizabeth still sobbing.18

Joshua led her up to his room and opened the door. The boys were gone as promised. He let her lay down on his bed. Joshua went over to his wardrobe and pulled out a button up shirt. "Here, it's more comfortable than that dress," he held it out to her. Elizabeth laid there, silently crying. She couldn't form any sentences, let alone change into a shirt. "It's okay, you don't have to do anything," he told her. "Hold out your arms, okay?" She listened and let him take the coat off of her. Joshua moved his hand to the back of her dress and pulled the zipper down. He began pulling the dress off of her body. She had thought about him eventually seeing her body before. She had been nervous because it wasn't perfect. But in that moment, she didn't mind, nor even think. He was taking care of her and the thought of him loving her that much overpowered any negative thoughts.8

She laid there, looking up at him as he looked down at her.

"Sit up for a moment, love," Joshua whispered, putting his hand on her back as she sat. He put the shirt on her back and slowly pulled her arms through the sleeves. He began buttoning it up, but she put a hand on his, stopping him. Elizabeth unbuttoned the buttons. She pulled him down to her. "Are you sure?" he asked.2

"Yes."

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super-hardworker-us · 4 years

Text

Help to lose weight for a loved one: the subtleties of communication and the secrets of motivation

You suddenly find that sitting next to a friend (friend) in the transport has become cramped? Or on the memory was bought as a gift updated duffel, and it was 3 size smaller. Yes, it's time to help lose weight for a loved one. And here it is not even in appearance, but in well-being and risk of pathologies. In general, it's time for a friend to urgently get rid of extra pounds. It would seem that he told the truth in the eyes "" Hello, you're fat / fat — - and the deal with the end! But it is loved and expensive. How not to hurt him, successfully motivate and be useful in overcoming the difficulties of the process of losing weight? A loved one does not want to lose weight? There is no problem if the reaction to your remark is adequate and productive — an independent review of eating behavior will be followed, and the morning begins with charging and jogging. Only in most cases everything happens strictly the opposite. Grievances, whims and hooking of "Psychos" are sweet and greasy. Therefore, before you offer your help in losing weight, think about 10 times to whom the weight loss of a loved one needs more, you or he (she)? Can you be firm in the decision and persevere in the desire to "carry it on your own bump to a healthy weight"? How to motivate a loved one to lose weight How to convince a person to lose weight The first success depends on how much you can find the right words for the first conversation about losing weight. It is certainly necessary to speak sincerely and honestly, but choosing the right phrases is not an easy task. Here everything is very individual. The only thing that can be suggested without fear-in the conversation, confidently focus on the importance of weight normalization for health, and not on your aesthetic preferences for slender forms. Think in advance and choose the words so that the opposite does not suspect you of hypocrisy. Otherwise, the consequences of the conversation will be catastrophic. Instead of motivation, an inferiority complex will be obtained. Prohibited and permitted Phrases Here are some examples of how a person can be hooked positively, without insults and accusations: For friends: "- "- you're fat and you don't look good.; ""- it seems to me that I am not friends with you, but "I cover myself with your chubby forms" to emphasize my athletic physique. How to motivate a loved one to lose weight For partners: "- "- that's how your figure no longer attracts me; ""- I want to live happily and long with you, without being distracted by the sores that appeared because of excess weight. For parents: "- "- completely ceased to monitor themselves; ""- how I want you to dance at the weddings of your great-grandchildren. For teenagers: "- "- you will not eat; "- - it is proved that excess weight, at your age, leads to the appearance of Type 2 diabetes in young people (briefly, but in detail to talk about the disease and its complications). In general, all insults are prohibited, as this can not be done anyway, as well as accusations, as they take away confidence. Also, does not threaten the rupture of the relationship. There is an option that this is what the case will end. How to motivate a loved one to lose weight How to help lose weight If the first motivational conversation led to a positive result and a loved one began to bring the body back to normal, help him as follows: tell me a good rocker, write to the "right" coach; ask how to help — find useful information and / or joint visits to the gym, workouts on the street; don't lead by example; bet on the final result; do not provoke a disruption of the diet with your own diet or idle conversations about forbidden dishes and products; do not overload notes and tips, control each step; do not break down, clearly explain the harm of "miraculous" means and fast diets; periodically encourage yourself, remembering that getting rid of excess weight is a long process, and in some cases can stagnate for several weeks or even months. Be sure to ask to share with You cases when friends or relatives suddenly start teasing. Take all the "appropriate measures" so that their actions do not knock down a loved one on the way to achieving the goal. Of course, do not skimp on praise. In this case, "whips" are not needed, "gingerbread"help well. And prepare in advance for the fact that your appearance will have to match the new image of a friend or relative.

#workout #trainings #sport #health #fitness

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maoliosaphelan-blog · 6 years

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Documentation of my creative process to achieve a solo performance piece

I was most interested in the marital conflict between the play's central characters George and Martha. Their relationship is an undermining of the idea of a happy couple and their marriage highly dysfunctional. The play suggests that every marriage is marked with some conflict or turmoil but that, when all is said and done, they continue on. I could personally relate to this as I had not long before witnesses my own parents address a marital conflict that they psychologically processed together , they pushed through it all and now have come out of it knowing one another better and having a far stronger relationship.

My parents marital issues were to do with lying so it brought me to the concept of mythomania otherwise known to most of us as compulsive lying. Mythomania can be defined as an abnormal or pathological tendency to exaggerate or tell lies. Prior to my research I did not realise it could actually be classified as a proper disease. It is not as highly recognised as other mental health disorders such as depression and anxiety and there is no specific medication to treat it.

I started watching multiple videos on youtube about this conflict and exploring why individuals feel the need to deceive others.

Dr Phil episode entitled Why do people lie?

https://youtu.be/0qQ0vT_47ms

Notes:

-Take what is not rightfully theirs?

-Escape accountability

-create a fantasy/ false esteem to escape their mundane life

-Avoid punishment

-To inflict pain

-Feel better in the moment (steal admiration)

-Gain advantage to exploit others

The Science of Lying

TED X- Why people lie by Kim Serota

The truth about Liars and lies documentary film

youtube

Notes

Fudge factor-the little bit of deception that people are willing to display, that only slight differs from the truth.

Factors that alter the fudge factor also changes people’s ability to be dishonest

There are dozens of elements that can alter the magnitude of the fudge factor.

If you say to yourself ‘everyone is doing this’, then you are able to justify this deception to yourself.

In order to study dishonesty, we need to be able to measure the extent to which people are dishonest.

One way to test this is the matrix experiment:

Method: It involves giving participants 20 simple math problems. The problems were fairly solvable if the candidates had enough time however the participants were not given this time. They had 5 minutes to solve as many as possible. They then had to count how many questions that they got correct. Then they were to take their test papers and shred them. They then tell the person running the experiment how many questions they got correct and were handed money in the amount equivalent to their correct number of answers. What the participants did no know was that the shredder had been alter to only shred the sides of the paper not all of it. On average most participants got 4 correct answers however they repost that they got 6 correct.

Results:

They had over 40,000 participants, nearly 70% of whom cheated.

They found 20 big cheaters, these are people who cheated all the way said they solved 20 problems correctly and in total they stole $400 from the experiment.

They found 28.000+ little cheaters who in total stole $50,000 from the experiment

The results of the experiment are not a bad reflection of reality.

There was a far larger number of small cheaters and because of this their economic impact is far greater than the big cheaters.

Original Idea:

So my idea was to originally construct a ten minute filmed based around this conflict of lying, though which I would highlight individuals reasons for lying and the issues that it causes with their relationships with others.

**Just a little disclaimer, a lot of my draft scripts are not complete because as soon as I decide that I do not like where my work is going I just stop.

This was the first script that I started to write:

There is only one character in the film. The dialogue is a monologue format with the main character breaking off and embodying other characters to assist with the context and storyline.

Johnathan:

I am the most outstanding cardiovascular surgeon at Royal Holloway Hospital, London. I am very successful indeed and the very best in my field. This is why I am head of my department. This is why my name is engraved in capital letters on a shiny gold platted plaque, underneath a large, rather dashing portrait of myself; in the hospital reception area. I earn vast amounts of money that I splurge on my family and friends. I give my wife and two children copious amount of love and affection. I communicate effectively and openly with my family and avoid secrets. I give vast amounts of financial aid to charities and I have adopted an endangered orangutan for Christ sake. (PAUSE)

Who am I kidding? Everything I have just told you is a completely untrue. Every line is complete bullshit..oh apart from my dialogue about the endangered organutang, that is most definitely true. The crazy thing is I know that I lie a lot; sometimes I tell up around 500 lies a day, but I just can’t help it. I have this ideal picture of myself and how I want my life to go. When my life does not go the way in which I intended and I am still the worthless individual I was yesterday, then lying about it is the only way I can cope.

I immediately didn't like where this was going. I felt no emotional connection or any relation to this character 'Jonathan' that I had created. I also thought that a ten minute monologue on film might be rather boring.

For my second script attempt to bring in another character:

Setting: Therapy room

Jonathan’s first session with therapist.

Two characters: therapist and gentleman

Therapist never appears on screen only gentleman.

Therapist: Hello Jonathan it is lovely to meet you. I usually start my sessions with some basic questions. As you answer my questions I will be taking some notes. Do not be alarmed this is just so that I can keep track of how you progress through my sessions. Have you ever had therapy before?

Jonathan: No, I have not had therapy before.

Therapist: Okay well shall we start by discussing your upbringing?

Jonathan: My upbringing?

Therapist: Yes, what was your life like as a child?

Jonathan: Well there is not much to tell really. My father was an alcoholic who beat my mother whenever he was drunk. My mother was too wrapped up in her delusional love for my father that she did not have time to provide me with the love and nurturing that I required.

Therapist: What are some of the feelings you have about your childhood?

Jonathan: Feelings?

Therapist: Yes, feelings

Jonathan: I do not have feelings.

Therapist: why do you not have feelings?

Jonathan: Well I have never known how to express emotion.

Therapist: Would you say that you try not to think about your past and that you have avoided coming to terms with it and the effect it may have had on you in your adult life?

Jonathan: The past is in the past and that is where is shall remain.

Therapist: Would you not admit though that it was a relief to describe your childhood out loud, to someone else?

Jonathan: then why did you ask me the question, if you already know the answer?

Tutor feedback on scripts so far:

Remember that lying is contextual.

Do not focus so much on the form but rather write and allow its format to develop naturally.

Allow for context in order for the content to appear and to progress.

Think about appropriation.

After this feedback I hit a slight road block. I then decided that my topic was far too broad and I was struggling to feel any kind of connection to my work. I was getting far too overwhelmed with all this creative freedom.Through this research I found a Ted Talk on Self-deception, a concept in which I felt that I could truly relate.

The psychology of self-deception by Cortney Warren at TEDxUNLV

Notes:

-Humans are masters of self-deception-We fool ourselves into thinking things are false and refuse to believe things that are true.

-We lie to ourselves about the smallest details, such as how much we really ate today and why we didn’t write our actual height and weight on our driver’s license.

- ‘I will only have one glass of wine tonight’, when I know that I am drinking at least 3.

- We lie to uphold social ideals. ‘I never have sexual thoughts about anyone except my spouse’

-We lie about our most important life choices such as why we married who we did and why we chose a certain career path. Unfortunately, love is rarely the full motivation for those choices.

-Often it is very difficult for us to admit thant we lie to ourselves.

-We lie to ourselves because we do not have enough psychological strength to admit the truth and deal with the consequences that will follow.

-Understanding our self-deceptions is the most effective way to live a fulfilling life. For when we truly admit who we really are, we have the opportunity to change.

-Our self-deceptive tendencies start at an early age, as we start observing and making conclusions about ourselves and our environment.

-Right or wrong, these conclusions that we made affected our identity.

-As adults we most like to lie about how psychologically painful our realities experienced as children affected who we are today.

-Although each of our specific childhood learnings will be unique, what we learned will be exemplified in the lies we tell ourselves as adults.

-Psychological theories of human nature can help us understand our self-deception.

-Sigmund Freud first described lying through ego defence mechanisms. Psychological strategies that protect our egos; our core sense of self, from information that would hurt us.

-Denial: refusing to believe that something is true even though it is. ‘I dont have a problem with alcohol’, even though I drink every day.

- Rationalisation: creating a reason to excuse ourselves. ‘I would not have yelled at you if you hadn’t treated me so unfairly’, thereby justifying my yelling.-Projection: Taking an undesirable aspect of ourselves and escribing it onto someone else. ‘I am, not like that you are like that’.

-Pioneers in the cognitive behavioural realms describe how our thoughts deceive us through cognitive distortions. Irrational ways we think:

-Polarised thinking, thinking in extremes. ‘I will either eat no cookies or an entire box’, because if I eat one cookie I have already blown my diet, so I might as well keep eating.

-Emotional reasoning: thinking that our feelings accurately reflect reality. ‘I feel hurt, so you must have done something bad to me’. ‘I feel stupid, therefore I am’.

-Over generalisation: taking a single negative event as an infinite spiral of defeat. After going through a bad break up you think, I am always going to be alone.

-From an existential perspective, we deceive ourselves to avoid the givens of life, the fundamental realities of being human, that we must face. Death: ‘we are all going to die’. Ultimate aloneness; we were born as a single person housed in a solitary physical body.

-Our levels are inherently meaningless, unless we give them meaning.- To avoid facing these realities we frequently lie to ourselves. ‘I am this way because of my upbringing’, thereby deferring responsibility for my choices. ‘I am not going to write a will, because I am young and I am not going to die anyway.’ Thereby denying my mortality.

-Multicultural psychologist describe how our internalisation of cultural norms affects us. Here we deceive ourselves by believing what we were culturally conditioned to believe is true, instead of deciding what we actually believe is true. We compromise ourselves to comply with cultural norms.

- We often think that you need to look a certain way, be a certain weight and earn a certain income etc. We usually believe these things because we are supposed to and not necessarily because we believe it is true.

-All these theories of human nature help us understand how we deceive ourselves on a daily basis.

-Why should we care about self-deception? It leads to massive amounts of pain and regret. To avoid being honest, we frequently make choices with harmful consequences to ourselves and others. We may use drugs, alcohol, eat, shop, gamble, steal, leave people or pass our emotional baggage down to those we love the most.

-We may choose not to change even when we are miserable or causing profound harm to those around us.-Looking back at life with regret is incredibly painful, because you can not

change your choices in the past.

-When we do not take full responsibility for who we are, we hurt ourselves and everyone around us.

-The first step in taking this responsibility is becoming self-aware. We must become observers of ourselves. When you have a strong emotional reaction to something; pause. When what you say does not match how you act; pause. Ask yourself, what does your reaction says about you.

-We tend to avoid our contributions to the conflict in our lives.

-When you are unresolved about something or someone

-We prefer the path of least resistance

-As we become more honest and aware we become more responsible for our choices.

- If we admit that we are insecure about something; which we all are, we are confronted with a choice. To work on our insecurity or not. Whatever we decide, we are now more responsible for the consequences of our insecurity because we know better.

-Not changing when confronted with the truth is a choice.

-Although we cannot control many circumstances that we encounter in life, we are responsible for our reactions to all of them.

-One of the best ways in which we can confront our self-deceptions is psychotherapy. It is probably the only relationship that you will ever have in your life that exists solely to benefit you.

-There is a lot of stigma surrounding therapy, but the truth is, it takes tremendous courage, to be completely vulnerable to another person.

-Therapy is a gift, if you are courageous enough to accept it.

-Confronting our self-deception is a life long journey.

-As we change the world offers us new opportunities to understand ourselves. There is always more to learn.

-Be more honest liars, choose to become more honest about the lies you tell yourself and use the truth to live the most fulfilling life for you, because you have only got one.

Self-deception is a process of denying or rationalising away the relevance, significance, or importance of opposing evidence and logical argument. Self-deception involves convincing oneself of a truth (or lack of truth) so that one does not reveal any self-knowledge of the deception.

I felt that this type of lying was highly relatable. The ideas Courtney Warren presents and the way in which she delivers her insight into such a distinct concept is what caught my attention. I had suddenly found a type of lying that I could associate my thoughts with.

Performance Rational:

I will be creating a 10-minute art house style film. I will have one main character and a second character who does not appear on screen; they are merely a voice over. The theme of my piece will be self-deception and I will be addressing the conflict that arises from this. I will be identifying the lies that we tell ourselves every day to justify who we are as individuals and to also justify why we have chosen or not chosen the life journey that we are currently on. I want to explore the idea that only once we have identified our self-deceptions, we are then able to live a fulfilling life. My project will require no rehearsal time in the actual exhibition space. The materials required on the actual day of performance, will simply be a projector and a wall suitable for projection. I will be borrowing a tripod from the media department but any other equipment used for filming I will provide myself. I do not want my audience’s response to my film to be too constructed, I would rather them take away their own interpretations. I would like my film to encourage the audience to stop and reflect on how they possibly deceive themselves daily and why they believe that they might do this.

After submitting my performance rational the week prior to our performance I still hadn't consolidated a decent script for the 10 minute video. I was really struggling to write. I would sit down and look at the blank word document on my computer but nothing would come out. It was closing in on performance week and I was bringing to become extremely stressed. I finally cam to a decision that would put less pressure on myself to write a full film script. I decided that rather than create a video installation, placed on loop, I would rather push myself out of my comfort zone and display a live performance. My piece would be showcased in the performance evening rather than in the exhibition space. I shorten the length of my video to around four minutes and decided I would use the rest of my remaining ten minutes conducting a live interview on stage.

I began by brainstorming the sh*t that people say to themselves on a regular basis and came up with some common phrases:

I know who I am

I am happy and secure with who I am

I am self-aware

Everything will work itself out

I must find their purpose in life

If I have more money I will be happier

I will be happier when I am skinnier

I am not hurting

I have faith

I will only eat one piece of cake

I must be successful in order to be happier.

I am a failure

I will do this later

I am okay with being alone

I do not have time

I will quit smoking tomorrow

I will always be faithful to my spouse

I love my job

I am not judgemental

It’s the end of the world

Through this process of identify common self-deceptive thoughts, I discovered that a lot of the lies we tell ourselves are based on social expectation of how an individual should function in society. These social expectations are often unachievable and fantastical objectives therefore it is more often than not, societies deceptions that lead us to a deluded sense of self.

I then established a film script based on these common phrases.

SH*T PEOPLE SAY

The film opens with a simple definition of self deception and no sound.

Self-deception is a process of denying or rationalizing away the relevance, significance, or importance of opposing evidence and logical argument. Self-deception involves convincing oneself of a truth (or lack of truth) so that one does not reveal any self-knowledge of the deception.

We then move into contradicting images, voice over and text. As the film progresses the overlay of images, voice over and text goes more blurred and intense.

All dialogue is read as a voice over

Dialogue: ‘I am not hurting’

Image: knife cutting wrist

Dialogue: ‘I will be happy when I have more money’

Image: person preparing lines of cocaine to snort.

Dialogue: ‘I will quit tomorrow’

Image: person lighting a cigarette.

Dialogue: ‘I will start my diet tomorrow’

Image: person diving into a cake and stuffing their face with it/

Dialogue: ‘I will be happier when I am skinner’

Image: person looking miserable measuring themselves in a mirror with a measuring tape.

Dialogue: ‘I will do it later’

Image: person receiving a reminder on their phone about an essay that they ignore

Dialogue: ‘I can cope with stress’

Image: Person at desk ruffling through papers and putting their head in their hands.

All sound, image and text will then end. The audience will hear a voice over speaking the following verse:

We self-deceive in order to achieve a satisfactory view of oneself. We like to refuse anything that could confuse the thoughts we have ingrained in our minds. We fool ourselves into thinking information that is false and refuse to believe information that is true. We master deception with the up most intention to uphold social expectation. We lie to ourselves about the smallest technicalities such as how much food we have consumed. ‘I only ate one piece pie’, conveniently forgetting the other 5 pieces that we know we will end up regretting. We deceive ourselves about our most important life choices, such as why we believe that we should spend the rest of our lives with the one special someone. Unfortunately love can be a rare motivation for this devotion.

We are afraid of confronting the truth because we have convinced ourselves that we are not psychologically strong enough to deal with the consequences that follow. Understanding our deception can lead to self-affection.

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