#if they were smart they’d move to the UK

[comradeeatspants]

look i like DNF as much as the next guy and i know george does not seem to care about his physical location geographically and only cares about being with friends but if i were george and i had to get on a one way flight in London just to step out of the Orlando airport to be greeted by highways and daily tragic news and muggy Florida heat and think “this is my home now” i would actually just walk in front of oncoming traffic

[six-costume-refs]

If the pandemic and shutdowns hadn't happened, do you think Six would still be at the Arts in London?

I think moving on from the Arts was a smart choice. But I don’t know all the ins and outs of the West End and how changing theaters might work like I know that with Broadway.

If they had had an opportunity to switch, I wouldn’t have been surprised if they did. Choosing the right theater is a big deal for a show. How big or how small a theater is, its’ location, the experience of going to it, can all affect feel or vibe. The size affects how far away audiences might be away from the stage, which affects how designers and creatives design and plan different parts of the show. And the larger the theater the more seats you can fill and the more revenue you can make, but you have to make sure that you can consistently fill up that theater and that it doesn't overwhelm the show (how many seats are filled at every show is a big deal for optics and audience experience!). But those bigger theaters can also be much more expensive to run. The biggest theaters tend to show the biggest, most successful, spectacle-based shows with huge casts that won’t get lost (Wicked is a perfect example of that, and currently plays at both the largest West End theater and the largest Broadway). Medium-sized theaters often host smaller musicals, ones that either need a more intimate feel to be successful OR ones that won't sell as many tickets. The smallest theaters generally only host plays, and often only for very limited runs; the audiences are generally much smaller and a more intimate feel benefits most (but not all) plays in the modern day. The West End does differ a bit from Broadway in some of this, but it’s mostly fairly similar; one of the biggest differences of that they'll still have some musicals at some of their smallest theaters (that really does not happen with Broadway). Some of that comes down to theater ownership, but that’s beyond the scope of this post.

The Arts is the smallest West End theater and only seats 350. It generally tends to show smaller shows for shorter runs (a few weeks, a few months at most). It generally is used more for plays, although they do do short runs of some specific newer musicals. It was a great fit for Six in 2018, when they stopped there from Aug 30 - Oct 14 as part of the 1st UK Tour. The show was still very new, still a little scrappy but buzzy and empowering, and at that point in time it worked in a smaller venue. It did so well there that they decided to have it back in Jan 2019. That was initially just announced as an extended “sit-down” tour stop and that they’d then continue to tour after (yes, that sounds contradictory, but some touring productions do do extended stops, like Aragon Tour in Chicago, that they sometimes bill as a “sit-down” stop; I'm expecting the same from the "Canadian production"). I can’t remember/couldn’t find how long that 2019 stop was initially announced for, but by the time it actually opened in Jan 2019 it had already been extended to mid-September and then again to mid-October, which eventually became their cast change. But of course, the rest is history and Six has been on the West End ever since.

The Arts also has a smaller backstage area. That means smaller dressing rooms and just not as much space as many other theaters have. It’s also not owned by any of the big theater operators, and as a result it may not have the same technical capacity that many other West End theaters have. That can heavily affect what lighting, sets, and sound can look like for any given show.

All that to say, the Arts really isn’t intended to house a huge show like Six long-term! If Six was always expected to become this huge commercial show like they are now, I doubt they would have started their 2019 run there in the first place. For comparison, Six is currently in the Vaudeville, which seats 690. They were also temporarily in the Lyric, which seats 915. For comparison, the Palladium is the West End's biggest theater, with 2,286 seats (it only runs very short term productions). I did see quite a few critiques when Six moved to the Lyric from the Arts that it felt way too big and not as intimate; I didn’t see it in either spot so I can’t personally speak to that, but that wouldn’t be surprising (although worth noting that some of that may just be that the massive size shift was startling to long time fans who were used to the Arts, rather than actually bad).

Obviously I don’t have access to all of the internal records but to me the Vaudeville seems like a good fit. It’s about twice as big as the Arts, and that lets them sell about twice as many tickets. They’re having absolutely no issue with that either - Six is always sold out or nearly sold out under normal conditions; right now, it’s entirely sold out through mid-April. That helps them bring in quite a bit more revenue, and some of the costume updates we’ve seen in recent years are going to be because of that increased budget (there’s a reason alts got principal costumes for first covers not long after the Vaudeville and Lyric runs started). It’s also plenty big enough for all the necessary dressing rooms, hmu, wigs, etc, and with enough room to spare for them to also host incoming cast members at a full cast change seemingly pretty comfortably. But despite the larger size, the Vaudeville is small enough that it will still feel fairly intimate and the (really fairly small) show/cast won’t get lost.

So….considering how popular Six is and the general function of the Arts Theatre, I think they would have made a move at some point. It was definitely in their best interest business-wise to do so. As for if there are any specific rules about switching West End theaters and dictating when/how they could have done that, I don’t know.

And with all that talk of comparing different theater experiences....for people who have seen Six in multiple theaters (WE, Bway, Aus, NCL, tours, or a combo), which was your favorite? How did where you sit affect your experience? How did the size of the theater overall?

[belmondxwolf]

A town called Prose is home to || Dr Erin Cunningham || who is a || forty || year old, || cis woman ||. They work as || deputy head and head of maths in the local school || in Prose, they’re known as the || Susan Kelechi Watson || lookalike. || She/her || are known for || good shoes, quizzing and being a mum!

FULL NAME: Dr Erin Cunningham

NICKNAME: Ree

AGE: Forty years old

GENDER: Cis woman

PRONOUNS: she/her

OCCUPATION: Deputy head and head of maths in the local school

EDUCATION: Biology degree from Stanford, masters and PHD from Kings College London

STATUS: Divorced

BIRTHPLACE: London, England

PLACE OF RESIDENCE: Prose, UK

CHILDREN: Son Lucas - 7 years old. Daughter Ruth - 18 years old

FACE CLAIM: Susan Kelechi Watson

Biography

Erin was born and raised in London, her life could be intense with boarding school and at times quite lonely but she had a close relationship with her mother when she was home and she spent a lot of time with her during the holidays. At summer, they’d often spend times with her grandparents in the countryside. She loved the freedom of the outdoors, so different from her boundaries at school. Though most of all she loved baking and cooking with her mum and grandmother. Her father was a wealthy and strict man who worked a lot, at times travelling for work. Though he had a soft spot for his only daughter.

She has always been a strong, energetic, sweet and a very persistent woman. Naturally smart and a love for maths and science, she knew she wanted to go to university and she wanted to push herself. Being bold and many doors open to her due to her education, she moved to California when she was eighteen, taking a place at Stanford university studying mathematics. 

Erin loved learning and she enjoyed university, she was smart, kind, driven and found herself a group of friends. It was a big change from her life back in England, she was living with girl friends and not living up to anyone’s expectations but her own. She met her ex-husband when she was just 20 years old. Just two years later they were married and when she graduated from Stanford, he acted supportive of her career and pursuing her masters but only if she moved to London with him for his work. 

Erin had grown up in England and she agreed to move with her husband, applying for her masters at University in London. Although she fell pregnant with her eldest daughter Ruth she was a smart young woman and her research went well for her in London, she worked hard and secured a place doing her PhD. She loved her work and soon started teaching maths. In her early thirties, she had her second child, their son Lucas. Her life was good. She loved her children and being a mum and she was happy with her career teaching and researching, though the one thing she didn’t have was a loving marriage. Things were up and down for most of their marriage. Her husband Caleb was a lawyer and she never saw a lot of him, although she had everything she could want, she wasn’t completely happy. She wanted to be treated with respect, she wanted someone to love her deeply and passionately, she wanted to feel excited about life that way again.

Their marriage became more and more distant and Erin was sure he was cheating with his receptionist. When she called him out, he didn’t argue, he didn’t fight for her and Erin knew she deserved more. They divorced two years years ago after fifteen years of marriage and Erin decided to figure out life on her own. She’d moved to London for him and despite enjoying her job, she decided to move her children to Prose, a new house and making a new start for them all. Her son is now 7 years old and her daughter 18 years old. Erin took a job at the local Prose school as assistant head teacher, it was closer to home, she could be there more for her children. Despite what people think, she runs the maths department and she makes a pretty decent money. She enjoys life outside of the city and is happy living for herself.

[tarosin]

the great adventures of y/n tommy tubbo wilbur and phil - i’ve got a (paintball) gun

this is part 12 to the great adventures series

an: ranboo was possibly in the Uk at this point however I don’t know when this vlog was actually recorded so I’ve decided that he’s still in the us at this moment in time i also didn’t proof read

tubbo stood near you occasionally shooting you with a nerf gun whilst you were filming a cooking video making it rather hard to focus

“you alright there Tubb-ow that fucking hurt”

“let me be in the video”

you rolled your eyes before moving to the side so tubbo could be in frame, earlier on you both went to a butterfly house and since the pair of you would have to get a train tomorrow to go record a vlog with Tommy it made more sense for him to stay at yours for the night. it took a lot longer than expected to film the cooking video as tubbo absolutely destroyed the plan you had for the video after he found out what you were making

“Surely not. you have pizza in the fridge let’s cook that instead”

“tubbo no fans voted on what is make and they chose something from the great depression cookbook it’s not my fault…heh how do you know about the pizza I got it yesterday”

“I made myself feel at home”

eventually, the pair of you finished the recipe unsurprising food from the great depression didn’t taste great so you put it in the bin whilst tubbo put the pizza in the oven. the rest of the night was surprisingly chill compared to earlier on when filming (probably because after you both had eaten you were exhausted and had a long day ahead of you) the pair of you created a song together which would never see the light of day as it was a mess but nonetheless it was a memory you would never forget, you asked your parents to take some pictures of you both so you could add them to your scrapbook you ended the night by teaching tubbo how to create a scrapbook.

at 8 am your alarm went off at 8:30 you made it to the train station a few hours later you finally arrived at your destination

“what are we doing today tubs”

“I have no idea but tommys over there with Phil and will”

tubbo dragged you over to the three of them where you were met with Tommy holding a paintball gun whilst yelling that he has a gun and that it’s ‘gun time’ tubbo went to go get the pair of you a paintball gun with the others whilst you offered to help Tommy continue the introduction

“y/n you’re going to be with tubbo and Phil sorry you can’t be on the winners team with me and will”

“oh no how will I ever survive, you seem rather confident that you’re going to win so let’s make I deal if I win I get to pick the next vlog if you win you can pick the next vlog for my channel”

“have fun facing your fears in your next vlog y/n as I’m going to win”

“sure thing tom however I never lose so have fun at the trampoline park”

tubbo ran up to you as you finished your sentence and handed you the gun that’s when you split off into two teams and made your way to start the game

“you both ready”

“I'm going to be shot several times the answer is no”

“I’ll protect you y/n”

you laughed shaking your head as much as you adored tubbo there’s no way he’d be the one protecting you in paintball you stood picking up rocks putting them in your pocket not realising the game had started until tubbo hit you with a paintball

“OI DICKHEAD THE GAMES STARTED”

“WERE ON THE SAME TEAM HAVE YOU CONSIDERED SHOUTING THAT THE GAME STARTED”

you ran straight to the bunker leaving tubbo and Phil behind simply because you had already been shot and it hurt like hell, you managed to hit Tommy a few times and occasionally was able to hit will. it didn’t take long for tubbo to catch up to you

“oh hello tubso”

“hi y/n. OW WHY DID YOU SHOOT ME”

“giving you a taste of your own medicine”

“I'm telling Phil”

tubbo found one of the grenades on the floor throwing it towards the hiding spot Tommy and will were in dragging you through the now colourful smoke which resulted in Tommy shooting you both with paintballs several times as will encouraged him to shoot wildly into the smoke

“phillllll tubbo used me as a human shield my body hurts where are they I’m getting revenge”

“tubbo…maybe don’t use y/n as a shield “

you stood with tubbo as Phil shot a paintball towards Tommy you assumed he hit him as you heard Tommy shout in pain and tubbo laughing next to you, you noticed as you continued walking to hide, tubbo was picking up the grenades putting them in his pocket

“I have rocks in my pocket tubs if I ever run out of paintballs I’m just going to throw the rocks it’ll probably hurt less too”

“y/n don’t encourage tubbo to throw rocks at people”

“quick over there we can team up against Tommy”

and that’s exactly what you and Phil did god knows where tubbo went however it did allow you to secure a win.

not long later the second round began however this time it was just you and Phil

“where the fuck is tubbo”

“I can’t believe they took tubbo he’s the best of us and they knew it”

“they took my tubbo I’m getting revenge also rude I’m pretty damn good with a gun”

you both ran to the next hiding spot creating a plan to get your best friend back and hopefully win the game, you ended up hearing tubbo shouting in the distance, you and Phil agreed you'd run first probably getting their attention and Phil would follow about a minute later

“hang tight tubso I’m coming for you”

the plan worked you successfully made your way to where tubbo was guaranteed you got hit with paintballs a lot but you also managed to get some good hits back as did Phil. as soon as Phil made the grenade go off you quickly climbed up the steps and made your way to tubbo whilst hitting the others with paintballs whilst Phil made his way up after you

“I ran out of paintballs tubbo can I borrow your gun”

“we surrender we surrender”

“Phil…y/n you saved me”

“I am in pain”

it was now time for the third round

“I've played capture the wool in hypixel don’t worry guys I’ve got this”

“y/n you lost every game”

“tubbo didn’t you get captured for the entirety of the last game…hmm”

“will you two stop and just run to the tower”

tubbo ran straight to the tower but you decided to ‘accidentally shoot tubbo’

“Y/N”

“SORRY I WAS UM JUST TESTING IF MY PAINTBALL GUN WORKED YOU JUST HAPPENED TO BE IN THE WAY”

once in the tower you and tubbo aimlessly shot at the others while Phil left to go capture Tommy and wills flag

“so tubbo how’s your day”

“not too great bossman I got captured, shot, betrayed by my so-called best friend”

“betrayed…you’re so dramatic”

“I'm leaving”

“I’m not defending the flag then”

you laughed as tubbo left the tower standing next to Phil coming up with a new plan

“tell me you didn’t leave y/n to defend the flag”

“I CAN STILL HEAR YOU BOTH”

tubbo and Phil ran to attempt to capture their flag whilst you stood defending the flag, you put up a decent fight getting strong hits on Tommy however he was able to capture the flag before Phil or tubbo could capture their flag, you continued to hit Tommy several times as he ran back to his team’s tower, however, in the end, he was able to make it back scoring a win for his team

“don’t even think about blaming me you two”

it was now time for the final, you had one aim and one aim only…defend the briefcase

“oh these little shits”

you and tubbo looked at each other before nervously laughing you all had been shot enough and honestly you were all in pain you just wanted to win and get this over with.

“We have 10 minutes guys we’re fine”

“y/n I admire your optimism”

“I could be brutally honest and tell you both that we’re probably going to lose if we don’t come up with a plan”

and with that the three of you started creating a plan which wouldn’t be used as you were going to end up staying close to tubbo, you all started pretty strong you and tubbo stayed together the entire game giving the pair of you extra strength compared to the others as you worked together. you and tubbo left Phil to do his own thing mainly because you had forgotten the plan you created earlier.

“y/n here’s the new plan wherever I go you go and we have to defend each other”

“hey tubbo look I found a shield…you stay behind me and tell me where to go as I can cover us both”

you ended up losing that round but it doesn’t matter you had faith you would win the next round

“so all we have to do is defend the briefcase”

“y/n stay with me”

you and tubbo proved to be a great threat as tubbo would point to where either will or Tommy was and the pair of you would shoot at them whilst Phil would aim for the other person

“good shot Phil”

“thanks y/n”

you were all doing a pretty good job of defending the briefcase you would often whisper to tubbo that you were convinced they were about to surrender

“surely not”

“tubbo look at them they’re in pain they’re going to surrender I bet £10 and being the first to hug ranboo at the airport that they’ll surrender deal?”

“deal”

you all aimed at will scoring many hits practically encouraging them to surrender, Tommy eventually got wills gun and started aiming at you all mostly hitting you and Phil making tubbo laugh

“I hate you right now tubbo”

“sure thing bossman”

you noticed Tommy was in serious pain and started feeling bad for him however you pushed that feeling aside as you really wanted to win every bet you had made earlier so you continued to aim for your best friends

“YOU WIN”

you looked at Phil who was clearly proud of his team before looking at tubbo before tackling him into a hug

“we fucking won I told you they’d surrender you now owe me £10”

“I'll give it to you when we go to pick up ranboo”

after putting everything away you made your way to Tommy to check that he was okay

“you okay Tommy? you did great, that was a pretty smart tactic during capture the flag”

Tommy pulled you into a side hug as he thanked you before congratulating you on your win

“you and tubbo best make your way to the train station before you miss the train, call me when you're at tubbos”

“will do see you soon!!”

“see you after you’ve finished isolating”

“…heh”

tubbo walked over to you both laughing as he noticed everyone but you knew what was happening from tomorrow

“your parents dropped off a bag of clothes etc at mine so we can just get the train straight to my house we should probably sleep earlier as we have to get up ridiculously early tomorrow to pick ranboo up from the airport”

time flew by rather quickly as before you knew it you were sat on a bench with tubbo waiting to meet ranboo

“tubbo ranboo just sent me a text he's here”

taglist:

@fuzzycloudsz @wtfwriter @bearytime @milkydisaster @dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @uselesssapphickitten @l0ver0fj0y @etheriaaly @xx-smiley-xx @hawarun @kylobensgirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @reverse-iak @renleicrashed @augustine-is-joy @c1loudee

[imsebastiansta-n]

Hey bestie,

Can I request a one-shot with Bucky as a professor falling for his PhD student (smart, sweet, and autistic—please) 😍

Of course bestie!!

A/N; so this is my first ever request!! I’m so excited to write it. First things first, I don’t know anything about PhD students, uni/colleges (as they’re different from the UK uni/colleges), professors, etc. I know a little about autism (my boyfriend has it) but I’m still learning, and I apologise if it’s wrong, again I don’t know anything about it, please don’t come for me. Without further ado, please enjoy and feedback is always welcome and appreciated 💜✨

Falling 

Pairing; Professor!Bucky x Autistic!Reader

Warnings; none ✨

Word count; 946 💫

—————————————————————————

Walking into class, you clutched your books closer to your chest as you walked to your seat you noticed someone sitting there.

“U-urm excuse me. You’re in my seat.” You mumbled as the girl who was sitting in your seat looked at you and scoffed.

“Excuse me? Your seat? Does it have your name on it? No. I don’t think so.” She laughed and turned back to her friends, calling you a freak.

You turned around, pulling the straps to your bag tighter and clutching your books even closer yourself as tears threatened to fall. You start to walk out, feeling incredibly overwhelmed and almost having a meltdown when your new Professor spoke up.

“Excuse me? Yes hello, you. What’s your name?” He pointed, as everyone looked at the girl sitting in your seat.

“It’s Sam. And who are you?” He rolled her eyes, turning to her friends as they giggled.

“Of course it’s Sam.” He whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well Sam, I am your new professor. Professor Barnes and I believe that is not your seat. Move.”

Sam scoffed while rolling her eyes, still refusing to move, and folding her arms across her chest as if she was challenging him. “Are you gonna make me, professor Barnes?” She flirted, as Bucky snorted leaning against his desk.

“No actually. I’m not. I’m just hoping you’ll be a decent human and move so YN can sit in her seat.” He smirked as he looked at you and then to Sam, who rolled her eyes once again you were worried they’d fall out of her head.

She moved out of your seat, not without causing a fuss. You peaked at Professor Barnes through your lashes and flashed him a small smile, before looking down and scurrying to your seat.

As class finished, you quickly got your things together and tried to get out the door before Sam and her crew got there first. But you were stopped by a soft, raspy voice calling your name.

“Wait, YN. Can you stay for a second please?” He asked, as the whole class ooohed you because you never got in trouble.

Standing in the same place you stopped, you tried to control your breathing and calm down so you don’t have a full blown meltdown in front of the new Professor.

Like he had a sixth sense or something, he picked up on your laboured breathing and quickly directed you to a seat.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, you’re not in trouble I promise.” He spoke softly as he crouched down, looking at you for permission so he could rest his hand on your knees to balance himself.

Your breathing slowed, returning to normal as he continued to speak.

“You alright now?” He asked as he bit his lip, trying to look in your eyes for conformation, as you nodded your head. “Yeah, I’m okay.” You whispered so quietly that if Bucky wasn’t as close to you as he is now, he wouldn’t of heard you.

He went to take off his jumper (sweater) and that’s when you noticed his metal appendage. Gasping slightly, he looked over to you to make sure you were okay when he saw what you were looking at. He took a deep breath.

“I urm, I was in an accident a few years ago. Lost my left arm. My friend Tony, he works on prosthetics and made it for me. It’s not the same as a normal hand but it works just as well.” He smiled softly at you, make sure you weren’t uncomfortable with him having it out in the open.

He saw that you weren’t, but what shocked him the most was when he saw your small hand slowly reach forward, but hesitating not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“It’s okay, you can touch it if you want.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. You leant forward slowly, not making any sudden movements as you traced your fingers over the metal of his arm. Then you reached down to his hand, taking each finger and examining it carefully with a small smile on your lips.

When you let go, you said something that left him in a fit of shock. “Your arm is beautiful professor Barnes.”

He looked up at you, shocked. “U-urm thank you. And please, call me Bucky.” The smile he gave you this time, reached his eyes as you smiled back.

“Bucky..”

You tried, liking how his names rolled off your tongue as you looked at his ocean blue eyes feeling like you could get lost in them. Butterflies causing hurricanes in your tummy, making you slightly nervous as he grinned at you.

“I know this may seem fast but, I’d really like to get to know you more. Would you want to maybe, grab a coffee sometime?” He bit his lip, and looked down at his fingers.

“I-I’d like that. Thank you profes- urm I mean Bucky.” You blushed as you grabbed your bag and walked out his classroom, not before turning around and giving him a small wave and closing the door before you went on your day.

It wasn’t until you closed the door that Bucky realised he didn’t have your number. Jumping up from his seat, he swung his classroom door open and looked down the corridor hoping to find you but having no luck.

But he remembered he had you tomorrow, and silently cheered to himself as he went to sit back down waiting for his next class to arrive.

Hopeful that he’d remember to get your number tomorrow, and have you fall in love with him, like he had with you.

[blueeyedgeorgie]

Scandalous(1)

An infamous Influencer that is known for getting into drama befriends ImAllexx, George doesn’t trust them one bit. 

Gif cred. @sdmngifs

Pairing: George Memeulous x Reader

WC: 2.2k+

Pronouns: They/Them

____________

For the entire day, Alex seemed to constantly be on his feet. At first, George really didn't pay much attention to it, after all, sometimes people just have busy days. Usually for George, his days weren't anything special. He'd just wake up and lay around the house. He'd make sure to film a video every couple of days and could be found playing a bit of FIFA or COD. 

George didn't have much of a reason to leave his shared flat. He'd usually go over to one of his friend's places to hang out or film a collab, every now and then he'd go out shopping to get a couple of things for a video or just the flat. Still, George wasn't the type of person to find reasons to rush around or try and get as many tasks done as possible, it was one of the many perks that came with being a YouTuber.

It was normal to see Alex running around once in a while. He'd like to go out and do things like playing football with a few of his mates or just going out and being around people. But today seemed different, as though he was planning for something important to happen. 

At first, George didn't feel the need to ask his flatmate about what was going on. But while the day rolled on and Alex seemed to only go back and forth from making phone calls to typing away on his computer, George's curiosity had begun to eat himself up from inside.

As the afternoon rolled around, George found himself seated on the couch. He had been wasting a good portion of his day watching whatever he could find on the TV that was actually interesting. Earlier he had filmed a few videos for his second channel, he looked at the Reddit page for usual funny content and then proceeded to go on a Twitter page and look at nostalgic videos and photos for a second video.

Usually with some luck, George would be able to find something good to put on TV, but today just seemed like one of those days where you couldn't find anything good to watch. So as a final resort, he had turned on some Spongebob cartoons, it seemed like he only had enough luck to have the old cartoons from the early 2000's play. 

While watching the yellow sponge on TV, George had checked a few of his social medias, wondering if there was anything else that was going on that could possibly hold his attention for longer than ten minutes.

Maybe he just needed a new hobby, something to keep attention for more than five minutes. FIFA was fun, but you could only play it so many times.

"Hey George?"

The sound of his flatmate's voice had pulled him out of his thoughts. Standing behind the couch, Alex was typing away on his iPhone. He had taken a quick look to make eye contact with George before returning to his text messages. Turning around, the brunette man gave his attention to his flatmate, "What's up?"

"I don't know if you remembered, but I'm having someone come out to the UK to spend a couple of days with me to film some collabs and just get to know each other," sliding his phone in his back pocket, Alex shoved his hands into his pockets. "Hopefully this turns out all good."

How did this slip his mind? Alex had been mentioning he was planning to do this with someone for the past couple of weeks. As the days rolled on, when he became busier and busier, it all made sense. Alex was only making sure everything was going to go smoothly when whoever was going to come to the UK.

"Shit, that totally slipped my mind, sorry," George brushed a hand through his hair with a short sigh. "Are they gonna stay with us or are they staying at a hotel? Maybe they're doing something completely different."

"Hotel," as he responded, Alex began to rock back and forth on the heels of his feet. "They're gonna get here in two days and when they show up me and a couple of our friends are gonna go out and get some drinks, just to get more comfortable with one another. You coming with us?"

"I don't see why not," giving a shrug, George leaned his head against the palm of his hand, supporting his head to sit at a certain angle. "Are you interested in this influencer or something, you keep saying you wanna get comfortable with them."

"Well, they aren't really my type. Also, they're gonna be hanging around us for a few days, so of course I wanna be comfortable around them."

"Who even is 'they'? Does this influencer have a name?" George let out another sigh as he looked up at his flatmate. 

"They're Y/n L/n."

Y/n L/n, George had heard that name a few times in the influencer world. One thing he knew for sure, Y/n was much bigger than both Alex and George's channels combined. So why was Y/n planning to come and hang around them for a while?

That wasn't the only question rushing through George's mind, from what he had heard about Y/n (which was very little) he knew they were a very scandalous person. Having them around didn't seem like too bright of an idea, maybe Alex just wanted to collab with them to gain a bit more in subscribers... George knew it'd be smart to keep Y/n at arm's length while they'd be in the UK. After all, they'd only be here for a couple of days, so how hard could it be?

"Oh."

"Just 'oh'?" Alex raised a brow at his flatmate, "What is it?"

"Nothing, I just took me a moment to realize who they were," George turned back to face the TV, implying the conversation had come to an end.   

"Alright, I'm gonna get back to making sure the flat isn't a typical mess," Alex sighed, taking a step back from the couch.

"Cool," George mumbled as he watching the yellow sponge on TV run beside a pink star. 

If Y/n got Alex caught up in anymore drama, he'd have a fit. He had seen his flatmate come so far since the last time drama was in his life. There'd be a chance that would grow bigger and bigger everytime they hung out that Alex could get caught up in a scandal. 

Even though Alex's a grown adult, sometimes he could make really stupid decisions. But that was the thing, Alex is a human being, he's allowed to make mistakes. All George wanted for this whole collab to into come back around and bite Alex in the ass. But it was too late, Y/n was going to be here soon and whatever happens, just happens. There wasn't much George could do besides distancing himself away from Y/n.

"Alright, I think I have enough shirts, I better go double-check to see if I have my toiletries all packed up," Y/n had mumbled under their breath in the midst of packing. Even though they were a big YouTuber and could simply pay someone to pack for them, Y/n had decided to pack for this one trip. 

"Y/n, where the fuck are you?" 

The sound of someone's voice had become louder, Y/n could tell their friend was entering their bedroom.

"I'm just in the bathroom, Bret!" They had responded while looking underneath their bathroom sink for a few more toiletries. 

"Are you seriously leaving?" The one and only Bretman Rock stood in the doorway of the bathroom, looking down at his friend. 

"Well yeah, I've been planning this trip for the past couple of weeks," Y/n looked up at the makeup influencer. Bretman and Y/n had been friends since forever, they had gone through so much together. 

"You're gonna miss James's party next Saturday," he moved aside, letting the other influencer in the room past by. 

"It's just one party," they had let out a short scoff while working on packaging their bathroom items properly. "James always throws parties, I'll go to the next one."

"Fine bitch," Bretman had tossed himself onto Y/n's bed, making their suitcase jump a little with everything else that had been laid out on Y/n's bed. "Why are you even going to London?"

"Well, I'm planning to meet up with a friend to make some videos together and just hang out," Y/n shrugged as they tucked away a few more items into their suitcase.

"Who?"

"He goes by ImAllexx on YouTube."

Bretman shook his head as he watched his friend, "I have absolutely never heard of them... ever."

"Yeah, his channel is smaller than either of ours."

"Lemme tell you now, if you're secretly doing some long-distance relationship with him and haven't bothered to tell me any tea yet, I will literally kill you," the raven-haired man laid on his back, beginning to fidget with the rings that sat on his fingers.

"I'm telling you now, Bret. Alex is only a friend, he's like a brother," they tsked at their friend as they zipped up their suitcase, finally finishing packing. 

"Fine, but if I find out you end up hooking up with some British boys over there and don't tell me... like I said, you'll be  dead bitch."

"Calm down, you know I can't keep secrets from you," Y/n flashed a cheeky grin at their friend while sliding the suitcase off of the bed. "I had two hours before I head to the airport, what do you wanna do?" For the past couple of weeks, Y/n had been counting down the days until they would leave for London. No doubt about it, they were excited. It wasn't often for them to make friends with other Influencers or people in general. So when they got the chance to make friends with a small commentary YouTuber that went by the name of ImAllexx, they had made sure to be as kind as possible.

At this point it was truly hard for Y/n to make friends, most people didn't like them based on the rumors that had spread about Y/n. Others that usually tried to be Y/n's friends were merely using them for money and fame. It became hard for Y/n to trust people and get close to them. So how did Alex pull off gaining Y/n's trust?

Y/n one day had been scrolling through YouTube, looking for something to watch. At this point, they had seen almost everything, vlogs, challenges, makeup, drama, and more. But one video had popped up into Y/n's recommended videos that had caught their eye.

'We Need to Stop Y/n L/n.'

It was normal for Y/n to see these types of videos, usually they'd come from Drama channels trying to cancel them. But this one had come from a YouTuber with the name, 'ImAllexx'. It was normal for Y/n to scroll when they came across these types of videos, but the video seemed a bit intriguing considering the thumbnail was only a simple picture of themself against a blue background.  So of course, Y/n clicked on the video only to hear; "Hello everyone, I'm Alex..."

Y/n found the video quite funny, when they'd watch videos made on them, the videos were typically quite harsh and mean. With Alex, he seemed like the type of person to be able to take a joke. His whole video was on an Instagram post Y/n had made a week or two before Alex had posted his video, he had just been taking the piss out of the photo as a joke. 

And after finishing that video and having a laugh, Y/n continued to watch more of Alex's videos, just to see if he was seemingly a decent guy. And somehow, they got hooked on Alex's videos. And by the end of the day, they had binged a good amount of his content. 

A few days after discovering Alex and his content, Y/n had decided to check out a few of his social medias. That's when Y/n had found out he was already following them on both Instagram and Twitter.

When Alex checked Instagram a while later, he was surprised to find that @y/nl/n was now following him. Y/n was almost four times(if not more) the popularity size of Alex, so how had they noticed him? He was a bit nervous at first, why would someone like Y/n follow him?

Instead of anxiety getting the best of Alex, he had decided to do something to try and figure out why of all people, @y/nl/n had decided to follow him. So he had been careful with sliding into Y/n's DMS, only to ask why they had followed him. ANd moments later, Y/n responded to him. 

'I've just been binge-watching your content lately and I thought that you were funny so I followed you. :)'

At first, Alex felt like it could possibly be a trap, but he continued to message back and forth with Y/n. After a while, Alex had realized that maybe Y/n wasn't as scandalous and dramatic as people made them out to be. As the days rolled on and they continued to talk, they had ended up developing a friendship.

After a couple of months of talking and coming closer and closer, Alex had asked if Y/n would want to fly out to the UK from LA to film a couple of collabs and hang out in person. Y/n had easily accepted his invitation, and just like that, A date was set for Y/n to fly out to London.

Taglist: @ivory-raptor @breakfast-cereal @snowcones404​ @golden-hoax​ 

[jedivszombie]

Okay gang, since there are a bunch of anons going fucking wild across the dash tonight about some joking posts about Mark Webber and Ann Neal - that were someone’s shocked reaction to the age difference between them. I thought it would be interesting to go on a little journey together. 

This little journey is the story of how Ann and Mark met, and will hopefully give you guys some insight as to why the ‘sexism’ and ‘ageism’ arguments you are currently using are bullshit - and why using these words in such a buzzword way actually is not the kind of critical thinking you think it is. And why this situation is more akin to a student and teacher starting a relationship - which I think we can all agree is not advisable, even if you don’t know why.

Below the cut is going to be a little discussion of Mark and Ann the early days; the reason the age difference is iffy at best and fucked up at worst; and, a little discussion about how these situations require nuance and the ways in which f1blr often likes to blow situations out of proportion. 

I have split it into three parts:

Mark and Ann: The Early Days (1994-1997)

Nuance, my old friend. Anon hate, my enemy. (tw: for racism here, be careful)

The pitfalls of discourse and the importance of looking after yourself.

A little disclaimer for you guys: I do not pretend to know anything about this relationship, other than what is readily available to learn about it from what they themselves have put out about it. I am just providing a timeline and some facts. Whatever conclusions you draw from it are your own.

Feel free to come for me if you so desire. 

Mark and Ann: The Early Days (1994-1997)

We start our story in Australia in February, 1994. Mark is competing in Australian Formula Ford Championship and Ann Neal is the new media and PR officer for the category. This is their first meeting. Just so we know what’s up here Mark was 17 at the time, and Ann was absolutely an adult (apparently there is a 13 year age gap, which may not sound like much but we will get onto that later, which makes her roughly 30 when they first met). 

Some key things to be aware of from this first meeting: 

Mark is 17, Ann is about 30. Mark is a young racer, Ann is the media and PR officer for the category he races in. 

In an excerpt from Aussie Grit, p. 57 to be exact, we get to find out what Ann had to say about the first time they met: 

“She thought I was a bit of a smart-arse when we first met. ‘But I liked how bold and cheeky he was,’ she says, ‘and how mature he seemed. When I asked someone how old he was, I was shocked when they said 17 – he was confident beyond his years.’”

In another excerpt from Aussie Grit, p. 61, Mark tells us other things Ann remembers about their first meeting:

“Ann remembers our first meeting and my opening remark about her being so important. She can even remember what I was wearing – a stripey green and red top, one of those United Colors of Benetton things – so that was pretty prophetic, as things turned out!” 

Now this may sound extremely cute to some of you, like they’re just having a normal ‘aww remember how we met’ moment. But let me please re-direct your attention back to the fact that Mark is 17 (and still not an adult yet if this is what you are gonna nitpick about) and Ann is very much an adult, in a position of power. 

So, a teenager makes a quip about how important you are and you commit to memory what he was wearing the day it happened? 

Now let’s bring in the first quote I put up there where Ann herself was recalling the first time they met. I would like to draw your attention to the following sentence: ‘and how mature he seemed. When I asked someone how old he was, I was shocked when they said 17 – he was confident beyond his years.’

Hmmmm, where have we all heard language like this used before? If, like me, you have some experience of adults trying to start inappropriate relationships with you as a teenager then you will be very familiar to this sort of language. The emphasis is on how mature he seemed, is what’s sticking out for me here tbh.

Now, if this had been a fleeting meeting, and they had met again a few years later, I would be more on board for whatever justification some of the anons have been trying to use. However, it wasn’t. 

Again from Aussie Grit, p.61:

“After that first meeting we kept in touch. My family sometimes met up with Ann and Luke for weekend get-togethers, and I ensured she got her motor-sport fixes by dragging all my old F1 tapes out. By way of revenge she would bring down all her British Formula Ford tapes for me.”

Oh cool, so she gained the trust of his family and Mark was hanging out with her son. This is so sweet Alexa, play Chosen Family by Rina Sawayama. Real talk though, again if this is how it had ended - with them just being family friends - then we would not be having this conversation. 

BUT, we all know how this little story ends so onwards we march. We shoot forward to late 1994, Mark has done okay in Formula Ford but his Dad is no longer able to fund him. SO, he turns to their old pal - the ever present and super helpful Ann, bless her heart - to try and drum up some sponsorship for Mark so he can race. 

Little background on why Ann was chosen to try and help with this, I’ll give you 3 guesses and only one of them is correct. Yes, that’s right, it’s her experience - which she has managed to get by being 30 and having a background in motorsports. She started out as a motorsport journo and ended up dealing with press and PR for Paul Warwick (Derek Warwick’s brother). In 1986 she started dealing with Johnny Herbert’s media before working for Formula Ford in Europe in 1991. 

Ann begrudgingly accepts and draws up plans with Mark, which leads him to a Yellow Pages sponsorship for his next season in Formula Ford, and beyond - how sweet, how nice, they are #winning! We stan teamwork besties! And Ann started working with Mark and his family to further his career. 

Ann had a plan for Mark, as outlined in Aussie Grit, p.69-70:

“By the end of 1995 Annie told me, in no uncertain terms, that – and I quote – I had to get my arse out of there. She didn’t just mean Australian Formula Ford, either: she meant Australia. She thought it was time for me to go and have a crack at some of the big guys, and she proposed to help me go about it in a serious, business-like way.

‘How the f#*k are you going to get to Formula 1 coming from Queanbeyan?’ Anyone who wants to trace my journey should start with a piece of paper that Ann drew up on 6 July 1995.”

So, now Ann has outlined her hopes for Mark and a glimmering career in motorsport. I would like us to know that at this point in time Mark was the ripe old age of 18, going on 19. 

In 1996 Ann and Mark moved properly to the UK so Mark could drive in the British Formula Ford Championship - at this point Mark is still 19. At this point he is living in the UK with Ann and her mother, and Ann’s son. 

So this is probably sounding pretty okay so far and sure it’s just a business relationship with a business set up, like no real cause for concern. But then we discover that this business relationship had turned into a relationship-relationship pretty damn fast. 

From the horses mouth himself, Aussie Grit, p.87:

“Back in England, Ann and I moved house to Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire, on the edge of motor sport’s equivalent of Silicon Valley. We had started out as teammates and friends on a mission but over time our friendship had deepened into something else. I enjoyed spending time with her and we felt entirely comfortable in each other’s company. Moving to England was a huge step for me and I think it was a case of us needing one another and that’s how the relationship was formed.”

Okay, okay, okay so I know at this point Mark is 19/20 he’s an adult right? He can make his own choices. But, can we please admit that at best it’s an iffy situation because of the position of power and authority she was in? In his life? For his career? 

There are a few other excerpts I found particularly interesting, about Mark’s family’s reaction (all from Aussie Grit, chapter 3):

“My parents came over to the UK in the English summer of 1997. While they were thrilled about how things were developing for me in racing, they’d been less thrilled by the romantic relationship that was developing between Annie and me....”  “...Annie was bitterly disappointed at my behaviour. Her plan to take me to the highest level of motor sport was starting to go horribly wrong, so she left Australia earlier than planned and headed back to Europe. My family arranged for Alan Docking to collect my belongings from the house we had been sharing and the one and only car Annie and I had at that stage...Campese Management told her that they had been instructed by the Webber family to terminate her role as my manager and that Campese Management would be taking over all aspects of my career, including the negotiation of my driving contracts.“

“While I knew Annie provided the support and guidance I needed in my racing career, I was missing her in so many other ways too. We were such a dynamic force in every sense; we could make things happen when we were together. We were teammates, soul mates, call it what you want.“

“As to Mum’s concern about our age difference, that has never been a factor for us. When we began to be more open about being together, perhaps the top end of the age gap shocked a few people. In those days people were less accepting of a big age difference between partners, especially when it’s our way round. It’s not such a big deal nowadays and it makes us laugh when so-called celebrities reveal they’re dating an older woman or younger man!“

While the Daily Mail is trash, the beginning of this video is very revealing to me - particularly Jackie Stewart’s comments from 00:12.

Obviously you can make up your own conclusions from all of this information, and I would once again like to point out that none of us - not me, not the anons, not you - actually know the nature of their relationship. They have been together for 24 years - good for them! Whatever they have going has obviously worked for them, this is not me trying to shit on that or anything, and I’m gonna be real I’m not the biggest Mark Webber fan. 

Nuance, my old friend. Anon hate, my enemy.

All I want to do is add some nuance to the conversation, an overview of the timeline, an understanding of what the facts are. So that some of those cowardly anons (or anon) can hop off their self-built thrones and get a grip. The sexism and ageism argument literally does not apply here, for all of the evidence and reasons listed above - if the situation was flipped we would still be calling it out. The only difference is you guys would probably be on board with it being called out. 

So Ann is a woman? So, what? Do you think she’s above reproach? You think one person’s 50 note post on this site is gonna rock the foundation of a relationship that has been 26 years in making? If you have answered yes to any of these questions then you are either: a) Mark Webber himself, or b) delusional as hell. You really think that responding by sending anon hate to a teenager, who btw only made a post calling out the age difference because she was shocked and had just discovered it, is the right way to go? 

You really think that sending me this message, attacking other people in such a vile and racist manner is okay?

So you don’t like Nehir and Sera? Good for you, go block them, if you follow them, unfollow them. Those options are free and readily available to you. 

For me, it’s so funny to see you hiding behind that little Anon mask spewing this vile shit. The commitment you have to proving that you are just a cowardly person with nothing better to do than rag on a bunch of different people for reblogging a post, that in the long run is not going to reach the people it’s about, is outstanding. I really hope you pat yourself on the back for this one. 

The pitfalls of discourse and the importance of looking after yourself.

There has definitely been a spate of ‘conversations’ that have been happening recently that have very much been straying into the land of discourse, over very small comments or posts. I think that some people need to remember that we’re all here for our own entertainment and as soon as it stops being fun - you are allowed to log off; you are allowed to block people; you are allowed to unfollow people. 

Sending anon hate is so counterproductive to whatever conversation you think you are starting or having with a person. Also guys, sometimes it’s not that deep - sometimes jokes are just jokes, sometimes someone finds out something they didn’t know about a driver or an ex-driver and they make a joke post about it. That does not give you the right to send them hate, or to make racist comments in other people’s asks. 

Sometimes these discussions require a debate and sometimes discourse can be good - but honestly? I’m worried about some of you guys, it is not healthy to get so angry at other people for the things they post on their blogs that you are not obligated to follow or interact with at all. 

I am also worried about people who turn every little thing into something discoursey. There are causes and issues to care about in this sport and community, for sure. But sometimes you also have to pick your battles - especially when I know a lot people in this community have fragile mental health. I do not say this to patronise any of you but to just provide a reminder that you do not need to engage with everything that makes your blood boil, and furthering some of these conversations sometimes is not doing you guys any good. Burnout is real. 

Please take some time to take care of yourselves, the pandemic is doing a number on all of us and I know being online gives you a gateway to being connected to people, but sometimes you just have to walk away from a discussion. Sometimes you have to just go and reblog something unrelated, or stare at a photo of your favourite driver, or listen to some angry music. Anything else to process your knee jerk reaction, to give yourself time to figure out how you feel about something and whether it’s worth engaging in or not. 

[beatricethecat2]

"A road trip? How exciting!" Jeanie exclaims.

"They gave you that much time off?" Warren gruffs.

"I'm still working. Sometimes," Myka explains.

"Often," Helena quips.

"And you're still...doing whatever it is you do? For the Secret Service? You never did explain," Jeanie asks.

"'Secret' and 'in-service of' the government, yeah," Myka answers.

"A-And what do you do, Helena?" Jeanie asks.

"I..." Helena glances at Myka.

"...work at a rare book collection. In Montreal," Myka adds.

"For a private patron, specializing in Victorian tomes," Helena elaborates.

"Dad, you should show her your collection."

"Oh, I don't know," Warren grumbles. "Won't be as fancy as she's used to."

"So you're Canadian?" Jeanie presses.

"No, English," Helena says.

"But you work in Canada?"

"It is a British commonwealth."

"Was," Myka snips. "Was a British Commonwealth."

"Is." Helena shoots Myka a firm glance. "Hence the Queen on their currency. I'm not being—"

"But you are sometimes."

"I'm aware," Helena snaps. "I researched my residence. It was easier to obtain a visa there due to my UK passport."

"You only have a British one?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Why?"

"I thought they'd give you a..." Myka glances at her parents. "Never mind."

A beat passes as the conversation hits a lull.

"How long did you say you've been traveling?" Jeanie inquires.

"A few months?" Myka looks at Helena for confirmation.

"Two and a half."

"And you've been able to leave work that long?" Jeanie asks Helena.

"I've made arrangements."

Jeanie looks between the two of them, wheels turning in her head. "Did you meet in Montreal? When were you there, honey?" she asks Myka.

"We, um, met a few years earlier." Myka's hands twist together on her lap.

The room quiets as both Myka and Helena fail to elaborate.

"Did something happen at work like last time?" Warren throws out.

"No," Myka answers, a little too forcefully and Helena shies away from her shoulder. She looks in Helena's direction, but Helena won't meet her gaze.

"Something else happened. A few things, actually."

"They don't know about your--"

"No. I went looking for you after my surgery. Then this trip happened—"

"Surgery?" Warren blurts.

"Tumor on my ovaries. They thought it was cancer, but it turned out benign. I didn't tell anyone, but Pete knew something was off. He picked me up from my biopsy and a few weeks later, they cut it out."

"Oh, Myka," Jeanie says.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Warren asks.

"Work was so crazy, I didn't have time," Myka says.

"You were still working?" Jeanie asks.

"You should have stayed with us," Warren adds.

"Tracy just had the baby, and I didn't want you to worry—"

"Baby?" Helena looks at Myka, brow raised.

"I told you, didn't I?"

"I think I would have recalled."

"Sorry. He's what," Myka says, looking at her mom, "three, four months old now?"

"Four and a half. Does your sister know any of this? About you being sick?"

"No. I haven't talked to her much—"

"You've not seen your sister's child?" Helena's whole body turns as she glares at Myka incredulously. 

"I-I was recovering. Then I went to find you," Myka says, her tone small. "A-And, it's a baby, right? It just sort of lies there, drooling. I thought I'd wait until he was...walking or something."

"That will take quite some time."

"I saw pictures. I texted I'd see him at Christmas."

Helena and Jeanne share a look of judgement.

"What? I don't get the whole 'having kids' thing."

"You will when you find the right fellow," Warren advises.

"Dad, that's not..." Myka starts, then stops with a breathy grunt. "Helena and I are dating, OK?"

"Oh." Warren's eyes dart to Helena, his expression minimally surprised. "The right woman then."

"You two are dating?" Jeanie asks.

"I thought you could tell."

"You do seem close, which is unusual for you," Jeanie mumbles nodding thoughtfully to herself.

"So surgery and a new beau. Keeping secrets again, Myka? I thought we moved past that," Warren says.

"Helena's not a secre--' Myka's phone rings. "Oh, thank god." She hits accept. "Agent Bering...yes...hang on a sec," she says, striding out of the room.

Helena sits up straighter as all eyes fall on her.

"What's your position on kids?" Warren asks Helena.

"Myka doesn't want them, Warren," Jeanne says, lips pursed.

"Yes, but I'm asking her," Warren points with his eyes to Helena.

"I'm...inclined to agree with Mrs. Bering."

"Oh, Jeanie, please," Jeanie says to Helena. "No need to pressure the poor girl. You have one grandkid already. Be happy with that."

"But Myka's the smart one," Warren says.

"Oh, now you're on her side?" Jeanie quips. "All those years you pushed her—"

"Wells..." Warren interrupts, eyes on Helena. "Myka said your last name is Wells?"

"That is correct."

"Any relation to the author?"

Helena opens her mouth to answer just as Myka swoops in. "Distant," she says and pokes Helena with her elbow as she sits.

"What did they want," Helena asks.

"There's a thing nearby."

"And?" Helena frowns.

"I told them maybe."

"You should have said no. We're otherwise engaged." Helena nods towards Myka's parents.

"You work with Myka at...whatever it is she does?" Jeanie asks.

"She helps out sometimes," Myka explains.

"Often," Helena adds.

"Don't you have to be an agent?"

"She's a former one."

"But she's not American," Warren says.

"It's...a partnership. Of a kind. Not worth explaining."

"Go on," Warren grumbles. "Keep keeping us in the dark."

"You didn't tell me about your cataract surgery."

"We didn't want you to worry," Jeanie says. "They said it was routine."

Myka frowns.

The room quiets again.

"Your shop is quite impressive, Mr. Bering," Helena says, speaking up to fill the pause. "I'm curious about your collection. Myka's told me wonderful things."

"Ach, call me Warren," Warren says, his tone softening. "Let me dig out my Wells first editions. I'll meet you two in the back."

"Sure, Dad," Myka says, watching him leave the room. 

"Be civil with him," Myka whispers to Helena. "This was your idea."

"I'm aware--"

"Should we order Chinese or are you two not staying for dinner?" Jeanie asks, rising from the couch.

"We have that thing," Myka says, flashing her phone at Helena.

"Which can wait," Helena snips. "We'd be pleased to join you."

"Good," Jeanie says, her expression brightening. "Myka can tell us more about her surgery. I'll get you that moo shu pork you always liked."

"I haven't liked that since I was twelve."

"Oh, that's right...before your 'vegetarian' phase."

"Do tell," Helena says, perking up.

"She's thin now, but you should have seen her then. A beanpole!"

"I was still growing!"

"You lived on lettuce and Twizzlers."

"She still does."

"Hey, I pigged out at that barbecue place. You were the one picking at it."

"I wasn't familiar with the offerings."

"They don't have barbecue in England?" Jeanie asks.

"Not in her day," Myka pokes.

"That never gets old, does it." 

"Nope!" 

Helena scowls as Myka grins.

Jeanie looks on, confused.

"Order whatever, Mom. It'll be fine. We should go meet Dad."

"No, I'll bring you two the menu. I don't want to get the wrong thing. Or maybe we should get pizza? You have that in England, don't you, Helena?"

"Not in my day," Helena snips at Myka.

"Myka!" Warren bellows.

"Coming, Dad!" Myka looks at Jeanie. "Whatever you get is fine. Let's go." She grabs Helena's hand and drags her out of the room.

Jeanie shakes her head but smiles to herself as she watches them leave.

-----------------

Bering and Wells: Travelogged ("Warehouse 13" Season 5 replacement) Season 1: Episode 6 Title: Colorado Springs: Rocky Mountain Way

Summary: Our intrepid pair travel north-east from Mesa Verde, meandering through the Rocky Mountains, hitting spots both familiar and new. As they descend from Pike's Peak, a last minute decision lands them on the Bering and Sons doorstep, with little, if any, prep work put into what meeting Myka's family might entail.

Previously: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5

-----------------

***BONUS SCENE***

"Why don't you allow me to assist," Helena offers, hovering just behind Tracy.

"What's she saying?" Tracy asks Myka.

"Let her make the tea," Myka interprets.

"It's just tea, Myka. I'm not that sleep-deprived."

Helena looks at Myka, her exasperation evident.

"But she's English," Myka explains.

"So?"

"She can make it better."

"It's tea Myka, not rocket science."

"There is a science to it," Helena says, stepping closer to inspect Tracy's setup. "What sort of tea are you serving?"

"The kind with caffeine." Tracy pours water into the teapot and plucks four unlabelled bags from a silver plastic sheath. She plops the bags in the pot and covers it with the lid. "I don't remember the brand. I threw the box out and stuffed them in this one." She hands the box to Helena.

Helena's face droops.

"Helena's kind of a tea expert," Myka explains. "Maybe not as much as Steve--"

"Why didn't you say so! I have the fancy kind." Tracy rustles around the pantry and hands Myka boxes one by one. "Here's Raspberry Zinger and, um, some mint thing, and Sleepytime, but you wouldn't want that now. And I think..." She reaches deep into the cabinet and hauls out a tin. "African Autumn. I won it at a raffle at Kevin's work. But it's loose, not in bags. Such a hassle."

"Yes, indeed," Helena says, her tone slightly mocking. She takes the tin and scours its ingredients.

"How much sleep are you getting?" Myka asks.

"Not much. The kid needs fed all the time, and I'm the milk dispenser." Tracy cups a breast and jiggles it up and down.

Myka wrinkles her nose.

"Too gross for you, huh sis?" Tracy says.

"This ties in nicely to yesterday's conversation with your parents," Helena says.

"Aw, don't..." Myka says.

Tracy twirls around and faces Helena. "Don't listen to her. What did Mom and Dad say?"

"They seemed surprised...no, your father seemed surprised to hear Myka holds no interest in procreating."

"Myka, with kids? Ha! I'd love to see that." Tracy smacks Myka on the arm.

"I could if I wanted to," Myka mumbles, rubbing the smacked area.

"You'd be an excellent mother," Helena says.

 "You think so?"

"A helicopter parent, totally. She'd have a spreadsheet for every little thing. Dinner now. Nap now. And if the kid went off script..." Tracy gives an eye roll and a dismissive wave. "Do you have kids?" she asks Helena.

"Not at present."

"Do you want some?"

"I've made my peace with the subject," Helena says, adding a sage head nod.

"Too old?"

"Ha!" Myka's hand flies up to cover her huge grin.

"In a sense," Helena says, scowling.

A tinny cry directs all eyes to the baby monitor.

"Annnd he's up." Tracy groans. "Let me go grab him. I'll meet you in the living room."

"OK," Myka says, eyeing the teapot. "We'll just--"

"Go. Sit!" Tracy says, looking over her shoulder before leaving the room.

Myka and Helena shuffle off and settle on the couch.

"I'm sorry about all this kid stuff," Myka says.

"Twas I that 'poked the bear' today, so to speak," Helena says, scooting closer to Myka. "Did you not mention the child earlier because you thought it would upset me?"

"Maybe? I think it's more I felt guilty about not being as excited as everyone kept telling me I was supposed to be. So I just blocked it out."

"I see."

"Look, I know you were an uber-mom and everything, but is it ok with you how I feel? I don't want to ruin this." Myka takes hold of Helena's hands.

"I have made my peace with the subject. You saw the shell of a person I became to live out a fantasy of family."

"Yeah, but...and it pains me to say this, part of you was happy there."

"Fleetingly," Helena says, looking down at their intertwined hands, squeezing lightly. "But I do believe I'll make a better partner to you because of it, if that means anything."

"P-Partner?"

"Is that not the correct phrase? I have much to learn about modern terminology."

"It is if you...if you think I'm..."

Myka drifts towards an already leaning in Helena, their lips barely touching when...

"Here we are!" Tracy blurts, smiling down at the baby as she walks in. "Your nephew!" She displays the child to Myka.

"Hey, little buddy!" Myka smiles a toothy, performative smile, her eyes opening wider and rounder than usual.

"Waaahh," the baby cries.

"Did Aunt Myka scare you," Tracy says, bouncing him in her arms as his cries continue.

"All I did was smile!"

"Weirdly," Tracy grumps. "He's fussy sometimes."

"May I?" Helena asks, rising, holding out her hands.

"Knock yourself out," Tracy says, gently laying the baby and blanket in Helena's arms.

Helena cradles the boy and rocks him back and forth. "Shhh," she whispers from time to time. His cries decrease in length and volume until he gurgles and quiets down.

"There you are, little one," Helena says, her broad smile echoing her shining eyes. She shifts him to one side and pokes a finger into his tiny hand.

"Myka, your face!" Tracy blurts.

Myka stares at the scene in front of her. "You're r-really good at that," she says.

"I'd have suggested a nip of gin if he wouldn't quiet. But this one's an angel," Helena says.

"For him or for me?" Tracy asks.

"Perhaps both," Helena says, passing the baby back to Tracy. "He seems a tad peckish."

"Eternally," Tracy grumbles, settling into the rocking chair.

"Are you alright?" Helena asks Myka as she returns to the couch.

"I've never seen you smile like that."

"And it disturbed you?"

"No, it was...nice. Brighter than usual." 

"Brighter than for you?"

"Just...different."

"I do have a soft spot for infants--"

"So you were about to kiss when I walked in. I knew it!" Tracy blurts.

"Mom didn't tell you--whoa!" Myka shields her eyes as the baby latches onto Tracy's breast.

"All mom said was you were here with your girlfriend."

"Y-You couldn't give him a bottle?" Myka says.

"It's natural, Myka."

"But you're my sister, and that's your boob."

"I'm pleased wet nurses are out of fashion," Helena quips.

"Gin? Wet nurses? How old are you?" Tracy asks.

"Ugh," Myka grunts, face wrinkling as she chances a glance at Tracy. "What'd Mom say again?"

"You were here with your girlfriend. I thought she meant bestie."

"No girlfriend." Myka slips her hand into Helena's and smiles triumphantly.

"Leave it to Mom to understate that," Tracy says, her free hand reaching towards the end table but falling inches short of her goal.

"Allow me." Helena springs up and hands the towel to Tracy.

"Thank you." Tracy blots milk off of the baby's face and her chest. "Ugh, I completely forgot about the tea!" she says, looking up at Helena.

"Not to worry, I'll tend to it. Is there anything else you need?"

"A modesty curtain for Myka?" Tracy jokes.

Myka sticks her tongue out. Tracy reciprocates.

"Milk and sugar?" Helena asks.

"Yes, please," Tracy answers.

"Black for you, I know," Helena says to Myka. "Barbarian."

Myka sticks her tongue out at Helena.

Helena smiles and walks into the kitchen.

"Tell me everything," Tracy says once Helena's out of earshot.

"After you put that thing away," Myka says, pointing with her eyes at Tracy's chest.

"Prude."

"Helena would disagree."

Tracy gasps and throws the milk-stained towel at Myka.

"Gross!" Myka says, ducking away.

"Start talking," Tracy says, buttoning up her top with one hand. "Where on earth did you find her?" Becuase I think I want one, too "

END SCENE

-TBC-

NOTES: No artifacts this time, just a glimpse into family dynamics and H.G. and Myka's budding relationship. I rewatched the episode with Myka's parents to see where that was left in-canon and can't imagine it became more resolved over time. I did a tiny bit of research into Victorian breastfeeding practices and was surprised to have turned up some daguerrotypes/tin types from  the 1840's-60's. Apparently, it was a fashion in the US to have your portrait taken while breastfeeding (infant mortality being what is was back then). Look up Hyperallergic's article, "The Victorian-era Daguerrotypes of Women Breastfeeding" for more info. (And yes, nearly everything leads back to photographs somehow with me.) PS: Two more of these and I'll wrap up season one!

[hurt-care]

The Reunion - WW2 era fic

I've been listening to an audiobook about WWII in the UK and there's been multiple mentions of people writing in their diaries about suffering from lengthy colds as well as a discussion of the increase in casual sex during the war (especially during air raids, when it became a welcome distraction). So, let's just say I was inspired...! 

Male, cold, OCs, contains 18+ content

The Reunion -

The club was positively bursting with young revellers and the sounds of a jazz band playing as couples moved across the dance floor in tight embraces, flitting in and out of shadow of the chandeliers sparkling overhead. Champagne flowed liberally, delivered by waiters in smart tuxedo jackets and white gloves. If a time-traveller had been magically transported inside, they would have no idea that outside the walls of the club there was a war on.

Making her way through the throngs of people was Katherine Marsh, or Kat to her close friends. Close at her heels was Mary Alderman, an old school chum who'd come up through London society with her. The girls wove through the dancers on route to a table up on the balcony that circled the dance floor, providing a spectacular view of the room below. Only the uppers of society generally occupied the tables here and the demand was such that often bribes had to be given to the head waiter to ensure a spot. Peter Halford, one of Kat's other longtime friends, had been in charge of the evening's transaction and now he waved cheerily from a spot in the corner as the girls approached.

“Hello, Peter!” Kat said joyfully as she sided into a chair along the wall, tucking the skirt of her silk gown around her. “Have you ordered a bottle yet or shall I do the honours?”

“It's just coming now,” Peter replied, nodding towards the approaching waiter who carried a magnum size bottle in a silver ice bucket while another waiter followed behind deftly balancing a tray of champagne coupes.

“Your timing is impeccable as ever,” Mary said with a laugh. “I'm parched.”

She flashed a smile at Peter, her eyes sparkling in the light of the crystal scones along the walls. Kat smirked knowingly at her friend. Mary had been pursuing Peter over the course of several of these evenings out on the town, but Peter remained seemingly oblivious to her advances.

Tonight, Mary was draped in layers of royal blue silk with a spectacular diamond bracelet glinting on her wrist. She looked radiant and Kat thought Peter had to be completely daft to not notice. Kat, on the other hand, had no particular beau in mind. She'd danced with dozens of men and dined at parties across the countryside around London, but no one gentleman had captured her heart. Besides, she was barely twenty and so many of the young men her age were away at service. For now, she was content with dancing and snogging sessions in dim alleyway with soldiers on leave and officers posted to city stations.

The waiter poured them all glasses of champagne and the trio toasted to health, happiness, and the victory of Britain. The chat was light and merry, with Peter filling them in on his new job at the Royal Airforce's London offices near Whitehall. At the hour neared eleven, someone took to the microphone to introduce the next band complete with a line of cabaret dancers dressed in feathers and sequins for entertainment. Mary squealed in delight as the drums kicked up the beat of a popular dance tune and she reached for Peter's hand.

“Oh, will you dance?” she asked breathlessly. “I love this song.”

Peter downed the last of his champagne glass as he stood up.

“Of course. Kat, find yourself a man and let's go.”

The two disappeared into a sea of people moving towards stairs that led to the dance floor. Kat drained her own coupe and stood, surveying the crowded tables for familiar faces or handsome strangers.

A few girls were lingering at a table of Naval officers and as the men stood and paired off with them, one man remained seated alone with a cigarette in his hand. As the duos passed by, Kat realized with a heart-dropping thud that she recognized the lone officer that had stayed behind.

Oliver Hartnett had danced with her at her first debutant ball when she was seventeen and she'd been completely enraptured by him. Two pages of her diary were dedicated to extolling his virtues, from the gentle tambour of his voice to his green eyes, from to his broad shoulders to his chestnut hair. As quickly as he'd come into her life, he'd left it again. They'd shared two dances that night and some brief conversation at a dinner party a week later, and then she hadn't seen him since. Word in the upper circles said he'd gone to Scotland to work for an aging uncle's business and he disappeared from London's upper crust.

Kat dumped the dregs of the champagne bottle into her coupe and gulped it down, feeling the rush of bubbles to her head as she bolstered her courage. She reached into her small handbag for her compact, inspecting her face and reapplying a coat of her precious lipstick, as the bright red shade was now nearly impossible to find with the war rations and so she reserved it for nights out alone.

With a smile on her face that she hoped concealed her nerves, she glided as confidently as she could over to the table.

“Ollie Hartnett, is that you?” she said over the din of the music and the crowd. The man at the table seemed startled by the interruption and he looked up at her, his face vacant for a moment. Then, a grin spread across his face.

“Oh my goodness, Miss Marsh,” he said, standing suddenly and extending his hand.

She laughed.

“It's Kat, please,” she said, taking his broad hand in her and shaking it. “Do you mind if I sit?”

“Of course, please do,” he said, fumbling to get around the vacant chairs nearby in order to pull out one for her. She folded herself gracefully into the seat, crossing her ankles as her mother had always instructed. For once, she was glad she'd listened to Mary's constant chatter about fashion and had worn the deep emerald green silk gown with the black trim that she'd purchased for the previous winter's New Year Eve celebration at Mary's family estate. It set off her figure nicely and contrasted with her auburn hair and milk-white complexion.

Oliver was shaking her head, still grinning.

“What a surprise,” he said, his gentle voice barely audible over the music. “You look well.”

She smiled back.

“I am! Well, as well as anyone is in London at war, I suppose. You've joined up, I see. On leave?”

“For a few more weeks,” he replied, taking a slow drag of his almost burnt-out cigarette. “I'm posted at Brighton, usually.”

“And you're not on the arms of a dozen girls dancing your night away?” she teased.

He snubbed out the cigarette in the ash tray and shook his head.

“Honestly, I wasn't keen on going out at all but the other gents insisted.”

“If I recall, you were quite popular on the dance floor,” she continued. “What's changed?”

“Just a bit under the weather, that's all,” he replied. “Haven't felt up to much dancing tonight, but I'll spare one for you, for old time's sake.”

She felt herself blush.

“Not yet,” she said. “I have to hear all about where you disappeared to that summer. You left a lot of us wondering why one of our dashing debs up and left London at the height of the season.”

“It's not a particularly exciting story, but if I'm going to tell it we ought to do it over a drink.”

He beckoned to a waiter who returned shortly with two cocktails on a black lacquered tray and a serving of peach melba for each of them.

Oliver detailed how the rumours were true; he'd left London for the banal task of running the business operations for his uncle's small factory in Glasgow. A year ago, as the ferocity of the war had begun to increase, he'd enlisted in Royal Navy and left the factory in the hands of the old foreman and his cousin, a savvy young woman named Rose.

More than once during the story he'd paused momentarily to clear his throat with a cough or take a sip of his cocktail to revive his waining voice. Kat felt a pang of sympathy now that she was close and could see clearly the weariness in his face. Though it was spring, the weather had been dreadful and frigid for weeks and many people she knew had been battling heavy colds.

She told him about her adventures in London with Mary and Peter, and about her volunteering posting with the Women's Auxiliary Service where she worked to find temporary housing for those displaced by air raids.

When they'd finished their peach melbas and cocktails, the band struck up a lively tune and Oliver appeared to summon some energy with a broad smile aimed at Kat.

“This is the one,” he said, extending a hand. “Would you like to dance?”

She nodded, trying not to let her rush of enthusiasm show too greatly.

He led her down to the dance floor and took her into his arms, leading the gentle sway as they danced among the other couples. His broad hand rested on the small of her back and Kat felt a rush of heat to her body as they touched, cheeks almost against one another. The gentle warmth of his breath tickled her neck and she was sure he was about to lean in to kiss her there.

His voice mumbled something deep and low into her ear but she couldn't discern it over the music.

“Mmm?” she replied.

“Oh Christ, sorry,” she heard him say and suddenly he was moving swiftly away from her, his one hand leaving her back and his other dropping its grip from hers.

Eh-TSGHT! He turned his face into the sleeve of his officer's uniform, sneezing inaudibly to her as the rest of the dance floor continued their rhythmic sway.

“So sorry,” he shouted, leaning back so she could hear him. He reached into his pants pocket for a handkerchief, which he dabbled briefly under his nose.

“Sorry,” he repeated as he took up his embrace once more.

“It's okay,” she said into his ear. “I hope you don't feel too poorly.”

“No,” he said into hers, his lips almost brushing against her. “Better now.”

She leaned herself closer against him and he pressed his lips to her neck. She sighed with delight, feeling all the rush of emotions that she'd had when they'd first danced. His body was more muscular and square now, without the lanky lines he'd had as an eighteen year old.

Tilting her head upwards, she met his lips and they kissed briefly.

He leaned over to speak into her ear again.

“I hope I'm not catching.”

“I don't care,” she said and captured his lips again. The kiss deepened and a couple nearby sided away to give them a moment of privacy.

The song ended and Katherine stayed in the embrace of Oliver's arms as the next began.

He looked down at her with a soft, tired expression.

“I'm dreadfully sorry, but I'm afraid all this noise and such is too much for me tonight.”

“Can you stay up a little longer?” she asked. “There's a nice restaurant not too far from here. We could go and have a drink there and talk. It's much quieter.”

It was past midnight now and while Oliver looked like he might consider declining in favour of being tucked up in bed, he nodded and smiled.

She grinned back at him and kissed his cheek.

“I'm so glad. I'll find my friends to tell them I'm off. Meet me by the doors? Would you be a dear and get my coat for me?”

She fished the small coatcheck tag from her handbag.

After she'd shouted her goodbyes to Mary and Peter (who looked very cozy together on the dance floor, she noted with pleasure), she found Oliver leaning against a wall by the exit with her coat over his arm and his own Navy-issued wool peacoat already on. He held up her coat to help her into it and offered his arm to her, walking at her side out into the cool spring night.

The air was clear and crisp, with a half-moon overhead. The streets were brutally dark thanks to the blackout and they made their way clumsily along the road, squinting to see landmarks in the dim moonlight.

“It's down to the left, one more block,” she said as they passed the entrance to another dance club where the only light came from several cigarettes that glowed as young people poured in and out from the doors and slipped behind blackout curtains into the well-lit hall.

“Can we pause a moment,” Oliver asked. “Sorry, just a moment.”

She stopped, turning to look at him.

“Sorry,” he repeated, reaching for his handkerchief. She could see him silhouetted in the dim moonlight as his shoulders trembled and he shook his head for a moment. Then, with a deep breath, he pitched forward with a wrenching sneeze.

Hurhhh-TSGHXTT!

Unable to mask the sound, he gave a brief but noisy blow into the handkerchief afterwards before hastily tucking it into his coat pocket.

“I'm so sorry,” he said, taking her arm up again. She gave him a light squeeze, leaning against his side as she did so.

“Don't apologize,” she said. “I'm only sorry to hear you so poorly. Blasted cold seems to be going around everywhere.”

“The boys in my unit said that if I can't spend a night out with a head cold, there's no way I'd last through a month at sea battling the Germans,” said Oliver, his voice a little hoarse. He cleared his throat with a cough. “I suppose that's true.”

“Well, we'll find you something warm to drink at the restaurant and that should revive you,” Kat said cheerfully.

They were just rounding the last corner onto the street where the restaurant was located when a sound split the air. The wail of the air raid sirens began their raised pitch, increasing to a loud din of pulsing noise.

They paused in the street, stunned. It shouldn't have been entirely a surprise; the sirens were a regular occurrence in the city but neither one of them had encountered the alert while out on the street.

In the darkness, a voice shouted authoritatively.

“To your shelters, please! Nearest public shelter is the Piccadilly Circus station. To your shelters please!”

The figure of an air raid warden with a metal helmet on passed by.

“Which way is Piccadilly?” Oliver asked.

Kat glanced up and down the dark street.

“My rooms are only two or so more blocks past here,” she said. “If we hurry, we should be fine. There's a cellar in the back.”

Gripping his arm tightly, she led the way down the road. Several times they nearly collided with others making their way to safety. As they neared the house where she rented lodgings, the sky began to shine with searchlights and in the distance, the sound of anti-aircraft guns began to crackle. The bliss of dancing and the haze of champagne cleared from Kat's head as she steered them down an alley between some homes and to a metal hatch that covered the entrance to the cellar. She tugged it open and hovered a foot over the void, finding the top step.

“Six steps down. Pull the door shut behind you,” she said to Oliver. Her hand trailed along the earthen edge of the wall until it met the edge of a candlestick and a pack of matches. She struck one alight as Oliver shut the hatch with a loud bang.

The tiny chamber glowed in the candlelight, illuminating the stone and soil room. Oliver was breathing heavily, almost wheezing. Katherine tipped the lit candle to light others, gradually brightening the room enough to see without too much strain.

“Sit,” she insisted, gesturing to a small crate topped with a cushion. “Catch your breath. I'll put some tea on.”

Hhh-TSGHHH!

The sound of the sneeze startled her and she looked over in time to see Oliver building up to a second. He tipped forward, nose nestling into the folds of his waiting handkerchief.

Ehhh—hhehhTSXHHT! “Bless you!” she said earnestly. “Are you warm enough? There's plenty of blankets. My landlady, Mrs. Beecher, is up north visiting her sister and the other girl who rents rooms is at her family home for the week. So it's just you and me here unless we get some surprise guests from next door.”

“No, I'm fine,” he said quietly, wiping his nose. “Sorry.”

“I don't mind a bit of sniffling,” she said teasingly. “You don't need to keep apologizing.”

“Have you had to spend many nights down here?” he asked, surveying the cellar. It was appointed with provisions for the three woman who lived above plus extras for any visitors who might end up sheltering there. Two wooden bunks were stacked against one wall, each with pillows and blankets and thin mattresses. Another mattress was rolled and stored in a nearby trunk with additional linens. A small table held a kettle on a fuel-powered heater and several teacups. There was a deck of cards, a basket of knitting, and a lidded chamberpot. Someone had cheekily hung a framed piece of embroidery that read “Home Sweet Home.”

“Oh, I've lost count,” Kat said as she set the kettle to boil once she'd filled it with water from one of the three large canteens by the steps that led outside. “This is only the second time I've ended up down here in an evening gown, though.”

Once the kettle was heating, she opened a chest and took out a wool jumper and a pair of socks.

“Good thing I'm prepared,” she added.

Oliver watched as she sat on a wooden chair and unstrapped her high heel shoes and slid her hand up under her gown to unclip her precious nylon stockings. Careful not to snag them, she rolled them down her legs and pulled on the socks.

He laughed as she put the jumper on over her evening gown, put her coat back on top of that, and donned a pair of Wellington rubber boots. She struck a pose for him.

“You'd be the toast of all the fashion magazines,” he declared.

His chuckle turned to a cough that sounded strained and painful. She frowned at him and shook her head.

“I'd say you should've followed your own ideas and stayed home instead of the advice of your mates,” she said. “But I have to admit I've awfully glad I ran into you.”

He recovered from the coughing spell and looked at her with affection.

“I'm glad too,” he said. She poured the hot water from the kettle into a teapot to steep and selected two teacups.

Outside, the din of the air raid sirens had ended. There was the sound of distant explosions, but for the time being they were far from the action.

“I'm afraid I've no milk to offer but we have a bit of honey.”

“That'd be lovely, thanks,” he said.

She poured them each a cup and sat opposite him, savouring the warm tea. He drank his own cup, clearly soothed by the hot liquid. He dabbed at his nose a few times with his handkerchief as it began to run from the warmth.

When the cups were empty, they sat in silence for a moment. A bomb exploded somewhere a few blocks away and the candles flickered as the shockwave trembled through the earth. The remaining teacups on the table rattled against each other. Kat closed her eyes for a moment, sighing.

“Are you frightened?” Oliver asked.

“No, I don't think so,” she said. “I suppose I always am, a little. But not terribly.”

She set her teacup down on the table and moved to sit on the bottom bunk bed, patting the mattress beside her. He stood and moved to her side. The next thing she knew, they were kissing, his hands were in her hair and she had a hand on his chest. She kicked off the boots and pulled up her dress so she could sit astride his lap. He kissed down her neck and tugged her coat off, his hand going under her jumper and stroking her breasts through the silk of her gown.

She exhaled with pleasure, starting to slowly grind against his hips. She reached for the waistband of his trousers and he helped her with his belt. He made a soft moaning noise as she fumbled with the buttons at his fly and found her way downwards. His lips brushed her shoulder, pressing kisses where the neck of her jumper was stretched to the side. A brief cough escaped him, puffing against her skin. He muttered an apology and she murmured a sweet assurance as she began to stroke him.

“Wait,” he said breathlessly. He pulled her arms upwards and guided the jumper off over her head. She pushed his coat off him and made quick work of the buttons of his shirt, tugging that off too. He urgently shed his shoes and trousers as she stood and slipped off the silk gown revealing a satin bra and knickers with mother-of-pearl buttons.

He watched her hungrily as she slid out of the knickers and climbed back onto the mattress, guiding his pants off his hips. They kissed tenderly and she settled down on top of him, hips rising to meet hips. He made that same low moaning noise and she felt her body jolt with pleasure, hands roaming through his chestnut curls.

He made love to her urgently as the sound of bombs echoed outside. They moved together, breath increasing to gasps. His nose was running freely and he briefly sniffled and pressed it against his own shoulder to rub it. She kissed his neck and felt the expanse of his chest press against hers as he took a sharp breath. His body shuddered under her as he sneezed a restrained outburst, clearly trying to keep the explosion minimal.

Ngh-GHXT!

She moaned involuntarily as the spasm thrust him against her.

“Fuck,” he groaned under his breath. “Sorry.”

“Please,” she gasped. “Oliver!”

He sniffled thickly and then resumed with vigour until they both lay panting and shivering on the bed. He looked utterly exhausted but there was a smile on his lips. She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“You sweet thing,” she whispered. “As if you weren't exhausted at the start of the evening.”

She slipped out of the bed with a blanket around her shoulders and found his shirt and socks and underthings on the ground.

“Best put at least your socks on before you drop off entirely,” she said tenderly, helping him dress before they both slipped under the quilts again.

She woke at some ungodly hour to the sound of nose-blowing and the roar of the 'all clear' siren. From feel, she could tell Ollie was sitting up in bed, straining to clear his nose with his sodden handkerchief. It was pitch black in the shelter and she had no idea how long they'd been asleep.

She managed to find the matches and lit a candle. Oliver sounded dreadfully congested and by the dim light of the single candle, she could see his nose was red and angry-looking at the edges.

“Oh, love,” she said, leaving the candle on the bedside table and climbing back under the quilts next to him. “How do you feel?”

He exhaled noisily.

“Rather poorly, I'm afraid,” he said hoarsely. “I hope for your sake it's not catching.”

She squinted at the wristwatch she kept wrapped on the bedpost. It was half-past four.

“It's still early but there's the all-clear. Do you want to get rugged up in my bed upstairs or stay here.”

He folded the handkerchief and tucked it at his side, snuggling back down beside her.

“That answers that,” she said, tucking his head against her breast. She stroked his hair and planted a kiss there. “Try to get some more rest, darling. I'll take good care of you.”

[bisluthq]

You all are missing the point here. I'm not talking about Taylor changing her approach after the 1989 mess. I'm talking about literally ditching her country, giving up on her friends and family and moving abroad for a man and adapting to his lifestyle which may or may not blow up in her face. She obviously wanted to be low key after that era, no one is denying that. But that's different from completely changing yourself to fit into your partner's life. 2-3 years down the line if they were to separate what would be her personality? Former London girl?

No. You’re missing the point.

Taylor has wanted to live in the UK her entire life, and she was EXTREMELY disappointed with “her country” - a shithole which she knew like depressingly little about - electing an actual fascist as president. It made sense to go.

She hasn’t ditched her friends. In fact, one of her longest serving best friends and probably the person who understands her best aside from Joe - that’s Lena btw I know she’s not pleasant but that’s the reality - MOVED TO LONDON TO JOIN HER. She has always had friends based that side (Ed, the models, etc) and she has kept up with her friends in LA, in Nash, and in NYC. She’s like regularly hanging out with literally all her friends. She’s even seen Ella despite her being an actual Oceania based hermit.

She hasn’t ditched her family. She sees them regularly.

What has she changed my dude? Like if her and Joe break up, obviously that’ll suck ass because a long term relationship ending always does. Some of their friendships will fracture a bit, they may have to decide who gets to “keep” Suki and Rob for instance. She’ll miss his family. He’ll miss hers. She’d probably keep the cats and that’d fucking break him. He’ll miss her mom’s dogs. If they end on good terms, they’ll probably keep lightly in touch with people, but it’ll not be the same because breakups hurt.

Taylor’s personality isn’t “Joe’s girlfriend”. She’s the fucking most successful artist of her generation, she’s funny, she’s smart, she’s got diverse interests. She’s beloved by her friend groups and everyone who’s ever worked with her.

If they broke up, she’d probably stay in London and he could very easily move to LA or even NYC or - the option he picked in this or that promo - the Mediterranean. He hasn’t exactly “tried” other places. She’s chosen her home. Or maybe they’d both stay. Or maybe they’d both go. It’d suck, but it wouldn’t affect either person having a personality.

And you’re - as Taylor would say - a fool to think otherwise tbh and this was somewhat misogynist in its undertone idk.

[madamebaggio]

Notes: Previously...

Also this is a picture of the original cast and band from the Mexican version of “Rebelde”. I got this image here and just cut because of the faces.

And again... I’m not saying this is how things happened to the band that inspired this fanfiction. At all. This is just me creating conflict for the characters.

***

Chapter 4

The picture Marge posted of them together reached ridiculous proportions quite fast. They had never been world-wide famous exactly. The band and the show were remarkably successful in the UK, Ireland, United States and some places in Latin America. They’d never quite got the other markets -including Australia and most of Europe, which frustrated Olenna to no end.

However, in the UK they were still remembered and very much loved. Once their picture came up, they were quickly trending on Twitter.

From the top 10 hashtags trending in the UK, five were related to them. There was one about the show on Netflix, two about the band and how it was loved, and the number one topic in the UK was TheRoyalsReunion.

Oh yes, the show was called Rebel Way, but the band was called The Royals.

Now, the call for a reunion was fan-made. There had been no official statement about them getting back together, but once the fans saw the picture of them all together, it was obvious this was going to happen.

There was a petition for a reunion and another one for a world tour, that would definitely not be that ‘worldly’.

Olenna had given them time to read over their contracts and assured them there would be no pressure. HighGarden had issued a statement that there were no plans for a tour or a reunion at this point.

The problem with people remembering they existed was the return of old discussions.

And while Maggie knew some people would be more concerned whether Sansa and Arthur would finally get together, or if Marge and Robb would get back together, she also knew she was about to see a lot being said about herself.

She wasn’t wrong. Two days after the picture, old arguments of the internet came back to haunt her.

Back in the day, Twitter hadn’t been that popular, and most discussions happened in forums and it was easy to stay away from it.

However, now Maggie only needed to look at her phone to see the old debate coming up: her part in the band.

Some people felt she was sidelined in favor of Sansa and Margaery, others thought it wasn’t like that at all. Others thought she didn’t even deserve to be there to begin with, while her fans hated on Sansa and Margaery.

She hated seeing all of that.

As previously stated, Sansa and Margaery had never been mean to her. They always treated her well and like she was part of the group. However, they were true friends, best friends. There were many inside jokes, secret looks and things only they understood. 

And Maggie was mature enough to admit that she resented both of them. She didn’t hate any of the women and she wished them well, she just…

It hadn’t been easy for her to be compared to Sansa and Margaery and come out as the plain one.

Now this?

Maggie wasn’t sure she could go through all of this again. She didn’t know if she wanted to.

Olenna was smart to make an offer that was very hard to say no to. One concert, one night only for a good cause. Honestly, a part of Maggie felt like a bitch for even thinking about saying no, but this was Olenna’s super power. She knew how to manipulate people.

It’d taken Maggie years to get over what happened during her time in the show and with the band. She finally felt successful and complete. Why should she throw it away?

“Hello?” She said as she answered her phone.

“Maggie, come have dinner with me and Sansa.”

Maggie snorted, because time had passed, but Margaery Tyrell still didn’t know how to say ‘please’. “Why?”

“We should catch up.” Margaery decreed. “And Sansa believes there’s something you should hear from us.”

That made Maggie arch an eyebrow. “You don’t agree?”

“I don’t think you need to hear it from us. I think it’s something you already know.”

Maggie frowned. What the hell were they talking about?

“Where do you want to meet?”

“My place. I’m not in the mood for paparazzi.”

“Do you have paparazzi following you?” Maggie frowned.

“No. But if anyone sees us together in a restaurant there’ll be a few.”

“Right.” Maggie sighed. “Send me your address. I’ll see you…”

“At 8.” Marge offered.

“See you then.”

Maggie put her phone down and sighed. Why had she said yes to this?

***

It was the shrill sound of his doorbell that made Arthur go check the door. He shouldn’t have visitors at his door, this building was supposed to be secure. It was the reason he’d come to live there once his fame grew.

If there was a reporter or a paparazzo at his door, someone was getting fired.

Arthur looked through the peekhole and groaned.

“We know you’re there, Pendragon!” Theon’s voice came clear through the door.

Arthur cursed both the men outside, before pulling his door open. “What the fuck are you two doing here?” He demanded.

“Wow, rude much.” Theon drawled. “We came to see a friend.”

“Hey, Arthur.” Robb waved at him, clearly not as comfortable as Theon with this invasion.

“How did you get here?” Arthur wanted to know.

“My sister lives in this building.” Theon informed him. “She said she’d let us in as long as we didn’t bother her.”

Arthur groaned. He’d forgotten about Yara. “What do you want?”

“We came to talk.” Robb showed him the beers he was carrying.

Arthur moved his eyes to Theon. “I thought you’d quit.”

“I did. I’m not going to drink.”

Arthur pressed the bridge of his nose. “Catia is here. So mind your words.”

“We’ll be perfect gentlemen.” Theon assured him.

Arthur scoffed. “As I’d believe that.” But he gave them space to get inside.

Arthur wasn’t sure what Theon and Robb were up to. Maybe he was feeling paranoid, but this felt a bit like an intervention.

If Theon wasn’t there, he’d be convinced that it was some attempt to get him to be in the stupid concert. As it was… He didn’t think Theon would be the one trying to convince anyone to get back on a stage.

Whatever were everybody else’s reasons for wanting to do this or not, Arthur’s were pretty simple: he didn’t want to remind people he’d once been Michael Rivers.

He was an action actor now, and it’d taken him years to be recognized as anything else besides an ex-Royal.

He wasn’t in a hurry to go back to that.

He recognized that most of the others had had a harder time with their experience. Maggie was one of them. Of course, there was Theon and even Sansa -to a point.

Yes, there was a part of him that didn’t want to spend too much time around Sansa as well, even if he understood what happened -or didn’t -between them. He didn’t resent her for not taking a chance on him back in the day. They were young and things were messy enough as they were, especially after Marge and Robb broke up.

However he wasn’t refusing to do this because of Sansa. And he didn’t care if Bedivere didn’t believe him.

So he could drink a few beers with Robb, talk to Theon, and even reminisce about those days… But if Olenna Tyrell thought that she could convince him to take part on this mess just because she was waving a good cause in front of his face…

Well, she had something else coming.

He wasn’t about to go back to singing.

[albertasunrise]

Coffee and Crisis - Chapter 1

So this is my first Mentalist Fanfiction with Marcus Pike. I loved the Mentalist and only recently realised that it was our dear Pedro that played the perfect Pike. 

Summary: Marcus has been pretty unlucky in love. With a failed Marriage and engagement under his belt, will his luck finally change when he meets a pretty, young English girl in his favourite cafe?

Warning/Content: Angst, Blood and Injury, 

Paring: Marcus Pike/ Original Female Character

§

It was a chilly day in September. The trees were almost bare of their leaves. Branches waving in the city breeze, sounds of wood knocking together joined the cacophony of city sounds. Marcus scrubbed a hand over his face as he approached the cafe that had become a staple in his morning routine, always stopping for a coffee and a muffin without fail before heading into the office across the street. This morning was no different except for one tiny detail. Her. His eyes locked with her's almost as soon as he pushed open the door, the small bell above jingling as the wood knocked against it. She was stood in line, eyes staring off towards the door as she waited to be served. He was instantly struck by her, giving her a smile as he pushed the door closed behind him and stepped towards her. She had dirty blonde hair that that was wavy and thick, sitting a little below her shoulders and framing her oval face. Her eyes were a seductive shade of green, accentuated my neat black eyeliner that flicked out at the edges and a subtle brown eye shadow on her lids. Her clothes told him the most about her. She was wearing a Retro Print Star Wars t-shirt that was tucked into her pale Levi jeans that were folded up at the ankles and a black, wool-lined denim jacket. He was instantly drawn to her. She wasn’t like the other women he saw here on a daily basis, tight work dresses, perfect hair and makeup with ridiculous heels that they couldn’t walk in. Not this girl, in her white converses and geeky, acid-wash t-shirt. Her eyes watched him as he came to a standstill behind her, glances and smiles being all they shared for a few moments as Marcus plucked up the courage to speak to her.

‘I like your shirt.’ He said finally, motioning to it with his chin.

‘Thanks.’ she replied, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear as she gave him a warm smile.

‘I’ve not seen you here before.’ He stated, quickly glancing at the muffins to make his selection before returning his attention to her.

‘I’ve just moved here.’ She replied.

‘You’re English!’ It wasn’t a question.

‘Yeah.’ She giggled, trapping her lip between her teeth ‘Well I’m half English.’ She continued ‘Mum’s English, Dad's Canadian so basically, I’m cursed to be too nice and apologise for everything.’

He laughed at her reply, his smile reaching his eyes as they held each other's gaze for a while. It was only broken when the Barista asked for her order. Latte and a Lemon and Poppyseed Muffin. She knew exactly what coffee Marcus wanted, asking his muffin selection for the day before getting to work making their orders.

‘So are you a Star Wars fan or did you just like the shirt?’ He joked.

‘Oh no, I love it.’ She replied, laughing nervously ‘I’m a huge geek.’

‘I’ll let you in on a secret.’ He said quietly, leaning towards her slightly as she looked at him with anticipation ‘So am I.’

She laughed at that, covering her mouth in embarrassment at her sudden outburst. Her laugh was like music to Marcus’ ears, her smile addictive and he found himself wanting to see it more, hear it more. The sound of paper cups scraping against the stone countertop then pulled their attention away from each other.

‘That's Seven dollars.’ said the Barista.

‘It’s on me.’ said Marcus suddenly, handing her the money for both orders.

‘You didn’t have to do that.’ she replied as she looked at him with surprise.

‘Call it a welcoming gift.’ he stated, giving her a genuine smile before holding the door open for her.

They came to a stop outside, Marcus holding out his free hand ‘I’m Marcus.’ He said, smiling as she took it and gave it a shake.

‘Ada.’ she replied.

‘Nice to meet you, Ada.’ Smiling he glanced across the street towards his offices ‘I better get going,’ he continued.

‘Uh yeah, same.’ she replied, her smile dropping slightly at the thought of them parting ways ‘Best not be late on my first day.’

So they parted ways, giving each other a small wave before Marcus sprinted across the street and disappeared through the tinted black glass doors. From that day on, he saw her every morning. She would wait for him and they would queue together, taking it in turns to buy each other's coffee’s whilst they talked about movies, books and art. Marcus learned that she’d studied it at college back in the UK but had decided against pursuing a career in it. He learned that she was a personal assistant but that she worked remotely from her apartment around the corner. She had been engaged to a guy she’d met in college. They’d been together for almost 7 years when she was offered the job in the US and he’d told her that he didn’t want to move with her. So they had ended things, her moving a few weeks later.

‘So have you spoken to him since you arrived?’ he quizzed, sipping his coffee.

‘I spoke to him a few days ago.’ she replied, taking a bite out of her muffin ‘He’s been dating.’

‘Ouch.’

‘No, I’m happy for him.’ She replied, her tone surprisingly genuine ‘He’s never done the dating thing really. Just sort of fell into relationships… Hell, he was single 3 days before we got together.’

‘What about you?’

‘Me?’

‘Are you dating?’ He asked, his question making her choke on the coffee she’d just sipped.

‘No. Wouldn’t know where to start.’ She replied, taking another bite of her muffin and shifting in her seat.

They'd both agreed to meet in the cafe earlier that day, sit down and have breakfast for once.

‘I attract odd people.’ She continued, sipping her coffee.

‘Odd how?’

‘Well, I’m a girl… who’s a geek.’

‘Ahhh.’ He replied, understanding exactly what she meant.

‘You’re the first guy I’ve met that has been normal.’ she replied, her cheeks flushing a little ‘I don’t meet many people working from the office in my apartment either.’

‘I imagine not.’ he chuckled, giving her his signature smile that made her knees go weak.

‘Well, Marcus.’ She started, standing and throwing her coat over shoulders ‘This had been lovely but I need to get to work. Those meetings aren't going to arrange themselves.’

‘Yeah… Right.’ Replied the agent as he stood suddenly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he knocked it back.

‘I guess I’ll see you Monday.’ she replied, giving him a small smile.

‘Well unless you’re free tonight?’ he suggested, his brown eyes ever hopeful.

‘I’m free.’ she replied, pulling her bag over her shoulder ‘What were you thinking?’

‘Dinner?’ he shrugged, giving her a small smile ‘Take you on your first date in the US.’

‘I’d like that.’ She replied, her heart racing.

‘Great! I’ll pick you up at 7?’

‘Perfect.’

He was there at seven on the dot. Ada had spent much of the afternoon panicking about what to wear, knowing that it was a date but not wanting to overdo it. She’d fallen pretty hard for Marcus, the man invading her dreams and leaving her flushed when she woke up. She looked forward to their morning talks, missing them when he was away and over the weekends. When he’d asked her out, she’d almost passed out from the excitement but somehow managed to keep her cool. As soon as her day had ended she tried to figure out what to wear, realising that she had brought very little with her. She pulled a black lace skater dress her friend Liv had given her just before she’d moved. She wore it with some grey heels and minimal jewellery. She did smokey eye makeup and a subtle pink lip stain, her hair in a loose bun with a few loose waves hanging down to frame her face. When three soft knocks sounded on her door she felt her heart in her throat, hands shaking as she grabbed her bag and keys before opening her front door. She felt her nerves melt away when she saw him. He was wearing smart jeans with a Burgundy shirt tucked in and a smart leather jacket that fit him perfectly. He beamed at her as he checked her out, feeling his own heart flutter in his chest at the sight of her.

‘You look beautiful.’ He stated, watching her as she stepped out and locked her door behind her.

‘Don’t look bad yourself.’ She replied, winking at him as they made their way down to his car.

The restaurant wasn’t far from hers and after a fair amount of convincing on her part they ended up walking instead, arms linked as they talked about each other's days.

‘Here we are.’ he stated as Ada looked up at the sign and laughed.

‘A Canadian restaurant?’

‘You told me that you were half Canadian.’ He started, smiling sweetly at her ‘A colleague of mine told me about this place the other day at work and I knew I wanted to bring you here. Is this okay?’

‘This is perfect.’ She chuckled as he opened the door for her.

The inside reminded her of Christmas’ with her grandparents in Canada. The walls we clad with wood and decorated with hockey jerseys, pictures, sticks and pucks. It was the cheesiest place she’d seen in years and she loved it.

‘I feel a tad overdressed.’ She stated, looking around at the other people in there.

‘’You look perfect.’ He replied sweetly, grinning when she got all shy.

They ordered their food which, true to Canada, was oversized and terribly unhealthy. The conversation was easy, new subjects easy to find when old ones were exhausted.

‘So you know all about my dating history.’ she said suddenly ‘I bet someone like you has had women throwing themselves at you.’ She finished as she shovelled some waffle into her mouth.

‘Hah!’ He laughed as he took a swig of his beer ‘Well… I’m divorced.’ he started, smirking when Ada’s eyes went wide ‘We were young, foolish. She cheated on me with my first partner at the FBI.’

‘What a bitch.’

‘Yeah…’ he replied, shrugging as he took another sip of his drink ‘And then last year I met an incredible woman, Teresa and fell head over heels for her. We got engaged but later that day she told me that she was in love with someone else.’

‘Oh my god, Marcus I’m so sorry.’ Ada felt a pang of guilt at the man's story ‘I shouldn’t have asked… I’m sorry.’

‘Wow you really are Canadian aren’t you.’ He smirked, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

‘Shut up.’ she laughed, swatting his arm before returning to her waffles.

As they walked home, their hands kept grazing each other’s until he trapped her hand with his. They took their time walking back, hands swinging as they enjoyed the sounds of the city together. When they finally came to a stop outside her building she spun on her heels to face him, biting her bottom lip as she gazed up into his eyes.

‘Can I confess something to you?’ She asked, her eyes drifting down to their hands ‘This is the first proper date I’ve ever been on.’

‘What?’ His head shot back in surprise ‘Really?’

‘I never did the dating thing. I kinda met people and we just ended up together.’ She replied, looking away in embarrassment.

‘So how was your first date then?’ He asked, pulling her a little closer.

‘It was pretty good.’ She replied, green eyes sparkling up at him.

‘Only pretty good?’ he asked, giving her a devilish grin ‘What would it take to make it perfect?’

‘Hmmm.’ She pondered for a moment, a cheeky grin crossing her face as she stepped closer again, her chest flush against his ‘Perhaps a goodnight kiss.’

‘Oh really?’ he grinned as he laced his fingers around the back of her head.

‘Mhmm.’ she nodded, licking her lips in anticipation as he pulled her in.

He pressed his soft lips against hers, his left hand cupping her cheek and his thumb stroking her high cheekbone. She opened her mouth to deepen it, their tongues dancing together as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her even closer. She moaned against his lips as she felt a heat forming in her core, lacing her fingers through his hair as their kiss became more heated.

‘Did you want to come up?’

‘I’d love to.’ He replied, pulling away so that he could look her in the eye.

‘But...‘

‘But this is only our first date.’ He replied, pinching her chin with his thumb and pointer finger as he kissed her again ‘Let me do this properly. No jumping into things.’

‘Are you sure you’re not Canadian?’ She joked, grinning as he kissed her again.

‘Goodnight Ada.’ He replied, giving her one last peck on the lips before watching her walk away.

They spent most of that weekend texting like teenagers. They text about what they were doing, what they were reading. They even ended up watching Empire Strikes back and talked on the phone to each other during. They then continued to talk to each other as they lay in their beds, talking about their schedules for the week and possible plans for the weekend. When they finally said goodnight they agreed to have breakfast together in their favourite little cafe in the morning. Once again the day started as it always did. They stood in line together, ordered their coffees and muffins and sat at their usual table beside the counter. The conversation, as always, was easy and relaxed. They joked about how lame they were talking on the phone in bed like two smitten teenagers. Secretly though, neither of them had wanted to hang up. Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of sirens, screaming and shouting suddenly erupted in the morning air and the door of the cafe crashed open. Two masked guys came screaming in, guns waving above their heads and sending everyone into a frenzy.

‘Everyone get down!’ they shouted, pointing their guns at the customers who were crouching with their hands above their heads.

Marcus instantly switched into FBI agent mode, his right hand wrapping around his gun as looked at Ada beside him.

‘Stay down.’ he whispered as he squeezed her arm and started to stand.

‘Hey, Jackass I told everyone to get down.’ Shouted one of the men, waving his gun at him as he spoke.

‘Let these people go.’ he said, taking a step towards them.

‘Who is this guy?’

‘Dunno but he’s clearly got a death wish.’ One sniggered,

‘I’m Agent Pike.’ He started, hand still wrapped around his gun ‘I work for the FBI. If you let them go I can help you come to a peaceful solution.’

‘FBI huh?’ the leader replied, tilting his head to the side as he studied the agent across from him ‘Well you’ll be useful.’ He stated, pulling the trigger and sending Marcus stumbling backwards

‘NO!’ Ada screamed as she threw herself to his side, catching him as his legs gave out beneath him ‘Marcus…. Marcus look at me.’ she pleaded, shaking him as his eyes darted around the room in shock.

The agent rolled his head to look at her, blood rushing in his ears as he tried to suck in a pained breath. He could feel his shirt soaking quickly with the crimson lifeblood that gushed from the bullet wound to his abdomen. Ada’s shaking hands desperately tried to keep pressure on it as she held him in her arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. She leaned him against the counter and tore her cardigan from her shoulder, pressing it down hard on Marcus’ stomach which elicited a pained moan from the agent.

‘Well I’m sure this isn��t how you saw breakfast going.’ he joked, placing a shaky hand on hers.

‘Not exactly no.’ She replied, smiling at him grimly as she watched her cream cardigan slowly turn red.

The phone to the cafe rang and the leader answered, screaming his demands to the police on the other end.

‘You will give us what we want or the Federal Agent that’s currently bleeding out on the floor isn’t going to make it.’ he growled, shooting a look at Pike ‘You give us what we want or Agent Pike will die… You have one hour.’ he finished, slamming the handset down on the counter and storming off.

Time seemed to crawl by. Ada watched the minutes ticked by, willing time to go faster as she felt Marcus slipping away from her. Half an hour passed and his skin tone had taken on a sickly grey shade, dark bags forming under his eyes as each breath came in short, laboured pants. She watched as his eyes start to droop, panic rising inside her as his head dipped.

‘Stay with me.’ she pleaded, lifting his head so that she could look him in the eye ‘You need to stay awake.’

‘Talk to me.’ he asked, leaning into her touch.

‘What do you want to talk about?’

‘’Will you go on another date with me?’ he asked suddenly, taking Ada by surprise.

‘What?’

‘I want to take you out on another date.’ he stated, giving her a weak smile.

‘Of course, I’ll go on another date with you Marcus.’ She sobbed, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

‘G-good.’ he stuttered, feeling his strength start to seep away.

‘And then afterwards I want you to stay with me.’ She continued, desperately trying to keep him with her a little longer ‘I’ll make you pancakes in the morning, I have a posh coffee machine that makes amazing coffee. Then we’ll spend all day watching old movies, eating junk food and making out.’

‘Sound’s good.’ He replied, smirking at her weakly.

Ada watched as he started to lose the fight, his lips taking on a startling shade of blue as breathing got harder and harder. A sudden cough painted his lips with blood splatters and her stomach sank. She knew the longer they waited, the less time Marcus had left. Grabbing a napkin from the counter above, she wiped the blood from his lips before placing a soft kiss on them. Marcus felt his heart flutter at the feeling of her soft lips on his, kissing her back before everything went black.

~§~

Chapter 2

[artificialqueens]

Drag Con UK 2020 (Biadore) - Sarcastacnt

Greetings! I normally post over at that other place, but figured I would give this a shot since I do spend a lot of time lurking around these parts!

Leave me some love (or hate, either way) and let me know what you thought!

10:45am from Yanx

Conference room 7 at 1. Don’t be fucking late.

Adore frowned at her phone as she read the text from Bianca, it was the first she had heard from Yanx all day. No ‘hey Pussyfart!’,no ‘how’s it going?’. Nothing other then those instructions.

10:47am from Pussyfart Hi to you too bitch.

10:56am from Pussyfart I’ll be there.

~*~

The conference room door was shut when Adore arrived, it was ten to one so maybe the previous occupants weren’t finished yet. She tentatively raised her hand and knocked on the door.

A moment later the door opened and a hand reached out to grab Adore’s shirt before hauling her inside. Adore barley managed to get a startled cry out before she was shoved up against the now closed door, a warm, familiar body holding her in place.

“B! What the hell?!”

“You have no fucking idea how much I missed you.” Bianca moaned right in Adore’s ear as she began to kiss the younger queen’s neck. Her hands found Adore’s waist and pressed their hips together.

“You could have- oh fuckk…. You coulda come see me…” Adore wrapped her arms around Bianca’s shoulders and held her tight. She tilted her head back and moaned as Bianca continued her assault on Adore’s neck. “Or called me.”

Bianca huffed against her skin, “I’ve had zero time for anything. I forced them to give me a decent lunch break, otherwise I’d still be at my booth.” She said before making her way from Adore’s neck to her ear with small licks and brief kisses.

Adore’s eyes had fluttered shut while Bianca worked her sensitive neck but she managed to pry one eye open to speak. “You should be spending that time eating then. Ohhh… you never eat properly when you’re working.” Despite her words, Adore was holding Bianca tightly.

“You want me to go eat?” Bianca muttered in her ear, making Adore shiver. “Or would you like me to fuck your gorgeous ass?” She ran her hands down to said ass and grabbed it roughly.

“Yanxx…” Adore moaned.

Bianca chuckled to herself as she moved one hand to grope Adore’s rapidly hardening cock through her pants. She was already well on her way to a full erection and Bianca could feel how fast Adore’s heart was beating every time she kissed her neck. “Tell me to stop chola.” Bianca challenged as she moved to look at Adore’s face before swiftly undoing the button of her tight, distressed jeans and pushing them open. “Tell me you don’t want me.”

Adore shook her head violently, “I always want you. Please don’t stop, I missed you so much.”

It had been almost a month since they’d been together. With Bianca in London for Jamie and Adore touring South America, there just hadn’t been time for them to meet up. Even phone and FaceTime calls had been few and far between.

“Then stop complaining and relax.” Bianca said, pressing their foreheads together as she reached around Adore to lock the conference room.

“Always ordering me around.” Adore rolled her eyes with a smirk, knowing that her childish behaviour would irritate Bianca.

“Hmm.” Was all Bianca said as she claimed Adore’s lips in a bruising kiss. She ignored the mess they were making of their make up as she licked at Adore’s lips. Her giant purse contained make up wipes and both of their foundations and lipsticks anyway. “I thought about told you to stop complaining?”

Adore blinked a few times, the kiss had left her brain foggy. “Unhun, you did. I like complaining though, what are you gonna do about it?” she teased, Bianca was being more assertive then usual and that almost always translated to hot, aggressive sex.

Bianca arched one painted on eye brow, “That how you wanna play chola?” she pulled Adore away from the wooden door and smacked her ass, hard.

Adore yelped before groaning, “I don’t know grandpa, you said yourself that you’ve been busy. You sure you’re not too old and tired to keep up with me?”

“Bitch.” Bianca said as she smacked Adore again and pushed her pants to the ground. Adore kicked off her shoes and stepped out of the jeans. As soon as she saw the black thong Adore wore, Bianca twisted the waist band in her hand. “Unlike your smart ass, I can go all night.”

“Sure you can.” Adore giggled before jerking as Bianca spanked her now mostly bare ass.

“I’m gonna make sure you have to spend the rest of the day on your feet. Your ass will be too sore to sit comfortably for a week.” Bianca said as she pulled Adore towards a table and pushed her to lay face down.

Adore tried to push herself up on her elbows to look at Bianca but the older queen gripped her bright green wig and pushed her head down. Once Adore complied with the desired position, Bianca turned her attention back to her ass. She ran her hands over the soft skin, the red marks from her hand only fueling her arousal. “Fuck I missed this ass.”

“Is that all I am to you?” Adore tried to sound put out but she couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping.

“Right now you’re a pain in my ass.” Bianca laughed as she spanked Adore a few more times. Seeing Adore squirm under her hands was quickly undoing her control.

“Oh fuck me…” Adore breathed as Bianca ran a finger over her entrance, applying just a little pressure to make her moan.

“Don’t worry baby, I have every intention of fucking you.” Bianca said, “Don’t fucking move.”

Adore did as she was told while Bianca went to her purse and pulled out a bottle of lube. The click of the cap made Adore shiver, the sound brining on memories of many days and nights lost in each other.

Bianca lubed up her fingers before shoving her index finger all the way inside Adore. Adore jerked at the sudden intrusion, “Fuck!” she cried out, gripping the edges of the table tightly.

“Relax love.” Bianca said softly, using her free hand to stroke the redden flesh of her ass. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Adore smiled at the words, no matter how rough they got, Bianca always made sure she wasn’t really hurting her. It was one of the many reasons Adore had fallen so much in love with her.

“Good boy.” Bianca praised her as her body relaxed. Once Adore started moving her hips against Bianca’s hand, she pushed another finger inside. “You’re so tight, fuck I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

Bianca fucked Adore with two and then three fingers, watching the singer fall to pieces. Adore started begging for more, begging for Bianca to fuck her properly.

“Not yet,” Bianca said as she pulled up the hem of her short dress and took off her tights and underwear. She hadn’t bothered to tuck, hoping that today would progress exactly as it had. “Open up.” Bianca said as she moved to stand closer to Adore’s head, maintaining the rough finger fucking as she did.

Adore turned her head to see Bianca’s impressive erection in front of her face. She licked her lips before opening her mouth, tongue sticking out.

Bianca grasped her erection and smacked it on Adore’s tongue a few times before pushing inside her eager mouth. “Fuck.”

Adore hummed around her mouthful, causing Bianca to thrust hard into her mouth. “Fuck I love the way you look sucking my cock.” Bianca said as she ran her thumb over Adore’s lower lip. “You’re such a cock slut.”

Moaning loudly, Adore willed her throat to relax as she took Bianca all the way in. No small feat and something Adore took great pride in. Her deep throating skills were second to none.

Watching Adore thrust against the table while taking Bianca’s cock was quite the view. Her loud moans were only serving to make Bianca fuck both her face and her ass faster.

When a particularly rough thrust from her hips made Adore gag loudly, Bianca slowly pulled out of her mouth, watching a trail of spit and precum stretch between her cock and Adore’s mouth. The sight made Bianca shiver and she removed her fingers, smacking Adore’s ass a few more times. “Ready?”

Adore grinned and nodded eagerly. “Fuck me Yanx, fuck me hard.”

Bianca chuckled and shook her head before grasping Adore’s hips and turning her body so that her legs were hanging off the edge. “You asked for it.” She said as she drizzled lube onto her erection and giving herself a few strokes before pushing all the way into Adore in one harsh move.

“Fuck!” Adore exclaimed, it only took a handful of thrusts slamming against her prostate before she was moaning against the table. “Oh fuck… fuck that’s so good.”

Bianca slapped her ass as she fucked Adore. “Was there ever any doubt? Fuck you feel so god damn good.”

The table groaned with every thrust of Bianca’s hips, protesting the rough treatment. Neither queen paid it any attention though, they were too lost in the feel of each other.

When Adore tried to reach down and touch her own dripping cock, Bianca grabbed both her hands and held them tightly behind her back. Interlocking their fingers, “Let’s see if I can make you cum with just my cock. Think you can do that for me?”

Adore moaned in response, “Can you last that long?” she managed.

“You’re really trying to piss me off aren’t you?” Bianca asked as she shifted Adore’s hands so she could hold both wrists with one hand. Once her right hand was free, Bianca brought it crashing down on Adore’s ass. With every slap, the reddened flesh jiggled and Adore cried out.

“Fuck! Fuck, Roy I’m close! Fuck don’t stop! Right there!” Adore exclaimed as she tried to rock her hips to meet Bianca’s thrusts.

“Cum for me baby boy. Cum on my cock right fucking now!”

Intentional or not, Adore came hard. Her internal muscles gripping and pulsing around Bianca’s cock, making her moan. “Fuck, Danny!” she cried out as she came, filling her lover.

They spent a few moments catching their breath before Bianca leaned forward to kiss the back of Adore’s neck before withdrawing from her body. Both groaned at the loss, “Don’t move love.” Bianca said, moving to grab a packet of wet wipes from her purse. She cleaned Adore up and helped her off the table before wrapping her in a tight hug.

“I love you.” Bianca said as she kissed Adore’s forehead.

Adore smiled, “Love you too. I really missed you though, you need to call me more.”

Bianca chuckled, “Says the person who disappears for days at a time. Phones work two ways love.”

“I know,” Adore sighed and buried her face in Bianca’s neck. “How much longer before you have to go back?”

Bianca glanced at the clock, “Hour and a half.” She said sadly, “When do you need to be back in L.A?”

Adore thought for a minute, “Wellll, my flight leaves tomorrow but I’m off until next Monday.”

“Can you change your flight? I can’t promise we’ll have a ton of time together…but I really don’t want to say goodbye yet.”

Adore traced her hand over Bianca’s cheek, the admission was out of character and the sad tone even more so. “Even if we only see each other at night it’ll be totally worth it.” Adore smiled and rubbed their noses together, “I’m not ready to say goodbye either. I’ll call the airline before I go back to my booth.”

They got dressed and fixed their destroyed make up. Adore grabbed a wet wipe and cleaned up the mess she had made on the floor while Bianca gave the room one last look. “Let’s go to the dressing rooms, maybe we can find some lunch.”

Adore nodded, “Oh! I think there’s pizza!”

Bianca laughed and slung her purse over one shoulder before taking Adore’s hand. “Fucking pizza.”

They left the room together, Bianca still holding Adore’s hand. When Adore questioned the public display, Bianca stopped walking and pulled Adore to her. “It’s time to stop hiding this.”

Adore’s eyes went wide. “Wait, what? Like for real? You’ve always said…”

“I know what I’ve said before but Danny, we’ve been together for more then four years at this point. The only ones who know about us are a handful of queens and our families.” She placed a hand on her cheek, “I’m ready to come out and piss off every other drag queen on the planet with the biadore hash tag that’ll blow up Twitter. I love you, I want everyone to know how happy you make me.”

Adore felt her eyes start to sting, “Oh Yanx… that’s so sweet. You feelin’ ok?”

“Shut up cunt. I’m trying to ask you something!”

Adore cocked her head to the side, “I already said we could make it Facebook official. What else could you wanna know?”

“I wanna know if you want to marry me chola.”

Adore’s jaw dropped and she simply stared at Bianca for a long few moments. “Really B?” she asked in a small voice.

Bianca took both Adore’s hands and nodded. “I love you, so much. You make me happy, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cry.” Adore said, trying to keep it together for the sake of her make up.

“Is that a yes?” Bianca was getting nervous.

Adore smiled so wide it threatened to split her face. Her green eyes, normally so bright seemed to positively sparkle. “Mmm, I’ll get back to you.” With that, Adore skipped off towards the dressing rooms, leaving a stunned Bianca in her wake.

“What… Hey! Get back here! That was a serious question you cunt!” Bianca called after the laughing figure before chasing after her.

Bianca caught up with Adore just as she reached the door to the enormous dressing room that all the queens were sharing. They burst through the doors laughing together, the queens already in the dressing room turned to face them with looks ranging from amusement to irritation.

“What have you two been up to?” came the eternally shady voice of Darienne Lake.

“Probably each other, behind a dumpster or something equally romantic.” Katya added.

“Only you think dumpsters are romantic you disgusting garbage person.” Trixie Mattel said fondly as she gave Katya a funny look, which sent the faux Russian into a fit of wheezey laughter.

“Thanks for your input, but I asked them.” Darienne rolled her eyes at the two blond queens. “So? Why are you so happy? There are thousands of people just outside those doors, that should make at least one of you miserable.”

“Oh fuck you-“

“Bianca just asked me a question.” Adore cut off Bianca’s reply to Darienne. She had a funny grin on her face and held her hands behind her back while she rocked back and forth on her heels.

Bianca whipped around to look at Adore, panic written all over her face. She had no idea what Adore was up to, or even what she was thinking.

“Which was..?” Katya prompted.

Trixie snorted, “It couldn’t have been that interesting. It’s Bianca! It’s not like she proposed or anything!”

“Proposed what?” asked Katya, looking very confused.

“Marriage! What else do people mean when they say someone’s proposed?”

Katya looked around and noticed that Bianca looked pale, even under her make up and Adore was grinning even wider then she had been a moment ago. “Oh mother, I do believe you may have been right after all.”

“I hate that voice!” Trixie laughed at Katya, “Wait, what did you say?” she turned to focus on Adore and Bianca. “No fucking way…”

Darienne clapped her hands together, “Are you serious?” she grabbed her phone, “Hold on! Lemme call Courtney!” she dialed and once the line connected said; “Miss Act! Our babies are finally getting married!”

Everyone in the room heard the loud scream come through the phone. Darienne closed the eye closest to the phone and passed it to Adore, “Tell her she owes me money for hearing aids!”

Before Adore could say anything, Bianca snatched the phone away. “Hey Pussyface. I did. I don’t know she hasn’t answered me yet and this whole thing suddenly became very public. Hold on.” She handed the phone back to Darienne.

“Are you going to answer her?” Trixie asked, her voice was hesitant.

Adore nodded, “Yep. But since she proposed out of nowhere I figured I would torment her a little bit first.” She turned back towards Bianca and took her hands, “I really couldn’t resist. Sorry Yanx.”

Bianca sighed, “It’s fine, I kind of wish I was dead right now but it’s fine.” She squeezed Adore’s hands, “So chola? What’s it going to be?”

Adore laughed, “You’re terrible at this!” she leaned forward, kissing Bianca sweetly. “Yes Roy, I will absolutely marry you.”

Bianca breathed a very visible sigh of relief and pulled Adore into a tight hug. “Fucking took you long enough.”

“Can we get excited now?” Darienne asked, “I’m pretty sure Courtney is going to die if we don’t start soon.”

Bianca rolled her eyes and Adore gave Darienne a thumbs up. “Go for it! We’re getting married bitches!”

A loud cheer came from most of the other queens as Bianca pulled Adore into a kiss, but not before whispering in her ear. “You’re gonna pay for this chola. Remember we’re sharing a bed for the next week. I can take my time.”

Adore shivered, “I can’t wait.” She said as Bianca kissed her, wrapping her arms tightly around Adore as she did so.

“You just wanted to piss me off so I’d take it out on your ass, didn’t you?” Bianca asked, “You could just tell me you’re into masochism.”

Adore grinned, “But you’re hot when you’re pissed off!” she laughed as she kissed Bianca again. ~*~

Later on that afternoon, Bianca walked by Adore’s booth and grinned as she saw the singer standing up, instead of reclining in the comfortable chair she had set up. Even when she had a down minute, Adore remained on her feet.

Bianca chuckled and made her way back to her own booth. She was very lucky to have Adore in her life and soon it was going to be official.

The End.

[bombinitribeapparel]

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Originally published here: https://bombinitribe.com/adaptive-clothing-for-men/

[orangerosebush]

On minds and matters

It was a bit disheartening to spend years working towards an MA in psychology, only to then use it on hour-long glorified eye-staring contests with the moody adolescents of the UK’s Vieux riches. His job paid well, though, and as such Dr. Po was willing to grit his teeth and soldier on through each meeting on his list.

He’d had plenty of patients who came to him determined not to progress. These were the boys who had a few too many write-ups on their files; the ones whose families were tired of their son being too 'emotionally high-maintenance'; the students who had consigned themselves to being one of the ‘troubled’ boys. The problem with elite boarding schools was that they sometimes served as the dumping grounds for wealthy families who would prefer to not be reminded of their screw-up children — as such, Dr. Po’s target demographic was made up of boys determined to ‘win’ therapy by going home just as bitter and in pain as they were when they started sessions with him.

He didn’t always make a breakthrough. Sometimes, he had patients who showed up to a session with a note from Dean Guiney excusing them from further meetings, and that was that. Dr. Po firmly believed that every single student he’d met with was capable of finding some coping mechanism or outlet that would help them — and he hoped that the students whose sessions stopped before any progress had been made found happiness in the future. Or, at the very least, that they found something that would bring them peace.

There were certain patients he’d had that stood out from the others, both for good reasons and bad. Artemis Fowl II was one of those patients — and standing out for reasons ‘both good and bad’ described Artemis perfectly. 

Following a series of disastrous sessions when the boy was thirteen, Dr. Po had simply stopped seeing Artemis. The boy hadn’t even shown up with a note terminating their sessions. One day, a new boy had shown up in the time slot usually reserved for Artemis, and that had been that. Dr. Po hadn’t seen Artemis since. He vaguely remembered hearing the news that the Fowl patriarch had been found — alive — and not been sure whether to expect Artemis to get better or worse. 

Would the return of his father foster the growth of the nascent emotional maturity that Artemis had exhibited in their final sessions? Or would Artemis’ worst traits — his tendency towards arrogance, his dismissal of others, his budding narcissism — firmly take root, defining Artemis’ personality for good? These questions nagged at Dr. Po, and truthfully, he was too cowardly to ask around the staff to confirm just what sort of person Artemis had become.

Thus, Artemis remained an enigma.

An enigma that just so happened to be sitting in the armchair across from Dr. Po, boring a hole through the doctor with his unflinching gaze.

In true Artemis Fowl fashion, the boy had shown up for a session that had been reserved without a name. Dr. Po had nearly dropped his clipboard when he’d opened the door to usher in his new patient and been greeted with a now fifteen years of age Artemis Fowl standing before him, looking simultaneously defiant and sheepish.

They’d both walked into the room wordlessly, waiting in silence as Dr. Po awkwardly rummaged around in his desk for his old notes on Artemis while the young teen sat gingerly in the patient seat in the middle of the room.

“You’ve not switched to a digital filing system?”

Dr. Po started, looking up at Artemis.

“No psychiatrist or counselor uses iPads or digital notetakers,” Dr. Po explained hesitantly, brow furrowing.

Artemis wasn’t one for small talk, usually.

Shaking his head slightly as if to right himself, Dr. Po continued. “It’d be convenient, but there are concerns about the patient being recorded."

Artemis seemed satisfied with that answer.

Flipping his notes closed, Dr. Po studied Artemis, who raised a single brow.

“I’ve never forgotten our session that you left in the middle of,” Dr. Po remarked, and the frown lines on Artemis’ face deepened. “You were such a smarmy child. But you… made this joke.”

Artemis leaned back in his chair, tapping a foot in annoyance. “What a wonderful memory you have.”

“Not really. But it’s hard to forget a patient like you, Artemis,” Dr. Po sighed. “I tried to ask you about your feelings — you responded by telling me a family heirloom was a blatant forgery.”

The memory caused Artemis to smile genuinely for the first time since he’d stepped into the office. “The fake Victorian?”

The doctor grimaced. “Yes.”

“Despite its lack of authenticity, it was a perfectly nice armchair,” Artemis assured, a gently teasing note worming its way into his voice.

Edged on by Artemis' demeanor softening, Dr. Po pushed on. “But back to the joke. I remarked on the loss of your father — insensitively, I now realize — and you shut down. You started jerking me in this way and that in order to prevent me from getting a real reading on you. You said something along the lines of, ‘I’m depressed that I’m going to therapy,’ I believe. Quite a bon mot.”

“I was impudent as a young boy, I’m afraid,” Artemis said breezily, sounding more amused by the tale than remorseful. “I hope you’ll forgive me for a poor first impression.”

“Artemis, why are you back in my office?”

Artemis didn’t even blink, taking the challenge in stride. “My mother believes it will be beneficial.”

“Your mother? Not you?”

“Correct.”

“And… beneficial? To what end? Elaborate on her reasoning, perhaps,” Dr. Po asked, trying to keep his tone light.

“She believes I am emotionally maladjusted,” Artemis said, giving a small shrug.

“Are you?”

Artemis blinked owlishly, the question not quite computing. “Am I what, doctor?”

Dr. Po clicked his pen idly. “Unhappy.”

“Well, of course.”

Dr. Po was unable to keep his face neutral, and Artemis chuckled slightly at the doctor’s wide-eyed gaping.

“Dr. Po,” Artemis sighed, sobering as if he were explaining something evident to a child. “Of course I am unhappy occasionally. I’m a very busy man. My intellect has made it so I’ve moved beyond the carefree days of adolescence — I’ve matured past an age where my mother could treat me as a child, and although I don’t mourn the loss of simpler times, I suppose she does.”

Dr. Po forced himself not to ask if Artemis had ever truly been treated as a child, deciding to steer clear of the topic of family based on how unproductively the discussion had gone years ago. Instead, he elected to place his clipboard on the floor, looking at Artemis bluntly.

“Artemis, I’m not diagnosing you with anything,” he began, holding up a hand when Artemis opened his mouth to say something. “What I want to discuss today, however, is that right now I see the same pain in you today as I did when you were thirteen — and since I’m no longer getting complaints from department heads, that means you’ve taken that frustration and turned it somewhere else.”

Artemis’ lips quirked upwards, but his eyes were mirthless. “You share my mother's theory that I am some variation of the tortured genius stereotype.”

“How about this — I think that you believe that there isn’t a person alive smart enough to help you. Because to 'fix' you, someone would have to look inside you, and you think you’re the only person that’s able to understand how you work.”

“How narcissistic of me.”

“I’ve met with a lot of people since our last session when you were thirteen,” Dr. Po stressed. “I’ve not met anyone quite as clever as you, but I’ve met people who fit the same profile. You’re well versed in my profession, so you’re able to view your pain as both a participant and as an outsider — and that strangely voyeuristic relationship to your mind makes it so you and all these other folks think that you’re objective. Logical, even, in your analysis of your mind. You understand every tick, every tiny mechanism, every structure of your psyche. And if you understand it all and you still can’t will yourself to be happy, then why the hell should I be able to do anything for you? After all, I’m just some idiot who decorates his office with forged antique furniture his grandfather was gullible enough to purchase. Why should I know better than you do?”

Artemis was silent at that.

“If someone can, say, convince themselves that all their peers are 2D caricatures of people, they’ll never have to think about why they struggle to feel any pleasure from social interaction. If they can look around and see how far their family has come, then they can force themselves to box up and discard the baggage of the past. If they can convince themselves that pain and genius are twins, that the torment is part of the gift by which they define themselves, then the fear they have that maybe they’re destined for a life marked by paranoia and apathy no longer has to be confronted,” Dr. Po tried, searching for some way to express his thoughts before Artemis decided to snap at him. “Maybe you’re the only one who sees the world as it really is. But maybe your mother is right to be concerned. I get why… that’s an unattractive possibility to you. It would mean your analysis of yourself was incorrect. And if you were wrong, if your mind has tricked you into running away from the change that you need to feel happier, then you’re just as human as the rest of us. Pain tricked you into believing its integral to your ‘youness’. You’re... just human. And let me tell you, Artemis, that feeling ineffectual, and frustrated, and sad is... so very painfully human.”

By the time he’d finished his spiel, Dr. Po’s voice was soft. Pursing his lips, he tried to see if he’d garnered any sort of reaction from Artemis. The teen remained stony-faced.

“I can recommend a therapist from outside Saint Bartleby’s,” Dr. Po finally said. “If you don’t want to work with me, then I don’t want to waste either of our time.”

Artemis seemed to be broiling with unreadable intensity, and for a moment Dr. Po worried that he’d start going on a diatribe.

His fears soon were proven unfounded when all of the sudden, Artemis seemed to deflate.

“I do not choose sadness for myself, Dr. Po. I can assure you that,” Artemis remarked, sounding weary in the way men twice his age did when confronted by the prospect of the world having moved on past their prime.

“I would never imply something so insensitive,” Dr. Po insisted. “But there is a difference between me saying something of that sort and me asking you to believe that I could help you. Or if not me, then someone better suited to working with you.”

Artemis ruminated on the statement, his tapered fingers tapping out an unfamiliar rhythm on the arms of the ornate chair he was sitting in.

“I will come to my session next week,” he finally decided, and Dr. Po almost sagged with relief.

Carefully, the two of them continued on with the session. Although it felt as though they were both walking on eggshells around one another, the hour-long session ultimately ended in a place where Dr. Po felt like they could work with. He walked Artemis to the door, and after awkwardly bidding him goodbye, Dr. Po retreated back into his office.

For a while, he simply sat at his desk, thinking.

It wasn’t as though he’d made groundbreaking headway with Artemis today. Frankly, they’d been only nominally productive following Artemis’ promise to give therapy a genuine attempt.

The day stretched on, and Dr. Po was no closer to making sense of the ever-present Artemis conundrum.

After all, how does one describe Artemis Fowl?

Various psychiatrists have tried and failed. The problem is Artemis’ own intelligence. He bamboozles every test thrown at him. He has puzzled the greatest medical minds, and sent many of them gibbering back to their own hospitals.

Dr. Po paused, reaching back for the clipboard he’d discarded at the beginning of the session.

Artemis Fowl II was fifteen. He had various, tremendously important responsibilities, the details of which he refused to elaborate on. His best friend, to Dr. Po’s knowledge, was his paid bodyguard. Frankly, Dr. Po didn’t think they’d talk about Artemis’ family for a long, long time.

Dr. Po couldn’t really describe Artemis Fowl, because he didn’t know him. He didn’t think many people knew the boy, not really.

All the same, Dr. Po wanted to try. He wanted to try to understand Artemis Fowl a bit better. Not because Dr. Po wanted to a hero, but because he wanted Artemis Fowl to just get to be a boy instead of whatever impossible, confusing role Artemis seemed to be trying to fill.

Artemis Fowl was fifteen. Dr. Po hoped that he’d hold onto boyhood a little while longer.

[bhaalspawntaven]

Ok so it’s 7am and I haven’t slept and all I know is I am A SUCKER for modern aus and specifically hs aus so here we are. A shitty post with my hs au headcanons... Note this is based on my experience in the Scottish hs system so if that’s why it seems weird then yeah (I think it’d be based in the uk bcs none of them are from there so it’s like... even u know? Idk + bias because I live here it’s just easier for me ANYWAYS) They’re all meant to be around like 18 here and I’ll give them like 4 or 5 classes I think they’d have and just some other stuff! Sorry some are longer than others (can u tell i love Tank and Nik? ;^^)

Starting with big boy Tank I suppose...

Would definetly say he’s in PE and History, PE because dude definetly loves his sports and I can see him really liking history! Other than that I think he’d be in like computing purely because Nik took it and he wants to be with his friend and hmm maybe one of the sciences? Or if there was a debate class he’d fuckinf love that shit anything he can be loud

His real name is Thomas but he got the nickname Tank for being buff as shit and his playing in sports! I was thinking rugby would be a big one for him, same with football/soccer!

He seem’s like a stereotypical jock but he’s a huge softie and a sweetheart to his friends and would never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. He doesn’t mind getting some action and is kinda popular with the girls but he would never like cheat on anyone because he’s not a fuckin asshole

Probably got banned from taking English again for his last year because him and Nik were in the same class and did not take anything seriously and just caused pure havoc. He enjoyed it purely for that and hated the subject itself.

Onto Nik!

He actually mostly keeps to himself and his group of friends- he probably got teased before for his accent and being quite standoffish so he mostly kept to himself. Him and Tank moved in the same year so they bonded over being the new kids and became really good friends

Good at maths but awful at english, so he takes the former and dropped the latter as soon as he could. Also really likes computing who Tank took just so they could be together for more classes, and he just lets Tank copy his work. Also let Tank copy his homework when they were younger because the others wouldn’t let him.

Takes art too! Likes getting some time to himself to draw and is really chill with all the art teachers. He doesn’t have much time outside of school for hobbies so he crams some of that into art class too.

Also takes PE mostly because he needed something else and wanted to chose something Tank was in so PE it was! He doesn’t really care too much for it but will sometimes get a little competitive.

Probably has snuck in vodka in a water bottle in more than one occasion.

Samantha!

Probably the therapist of the group and her along with Takeo are really the only ones that have their shit together.

Takes Psycology, English, Music (she plays the violin!) and Physics! Her and Ed work together on their physics work and all that! She’ll sometimes goof around a little in class but is still a good student and works really hard.

She’s really good at reading her friends. Uncannily good. It gets annoying sometimes but everyone knows she just wants to help them

Is Ed’s big sister (both in height and age) and also becomes a big sister to Nik, who is disconnected from his family. Will definetly fight anyone that hurts her friends, like no questions asked would break someone’s leg if they dared touch any of her little brothers.

Always studies super hard for exams and wants to do her best so she can get into a good uni for psycology- she wants to become a therapist when she’s older.

Takeo!!

Probably takes Home Ec, Maths, English and psycology! He’s an amazing cook and is the only one of them that knows how to make proper meals that aren’t like grilled cheese or pasta. He isn’t too sure what he wants to do job wise yet but he thinks it’ll be something related to that!

Generally a really hard worker and his teachers think he is an Angel. Very rarely gets into trouble unless he’s roped into it by one or more of his dumb friends (mainly Tank and/or Nik doing some stupid shit)

Scolds Nik for letting Tank copy his homework because ‘he’ll never learn’ but he knows that neither of them care so he has given up with his attempts to actually help either of them with their work

Actually quite popular! He’s on good terms with a lot of people because of his kind nature is people generally like him.

And lastly Ed!

I think he would take physics, biology, chemistry and maths! He’s super smart and used to get teased for it but now that he’s older and in higher level classes people are much kinder too him. He’ll offer help to anyone that asks and isn’t rude to him.

Also studies really hard- he wants to become a doctor and he knows there’s a lot of work involved but he is getting there! Really close with Sam and those two help eachother with anything they can.

Probably has some soft of beef with Nik, and they come close to brawling it out fairly regularly. Everyone else has given up on trying to sort out their beef.