ZENNY DREADFUL
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Cerulean Blue.

24/1/2015

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Danny was the calm one. He was famous for it. Okay, so he was mostly famous for his cute smile, matching dimples, and pretending to be other people. It's all the magazines talked about, 'Danny Mahealani: The Boy Next Door now on Hollywood's doorstep! With a smile that says sweet and dimples that break hearts.'

Funnily enough, Danny hadn't broken any hearts since high school. Though his own heart was currently trying to betray him, beating out an unstable tattoo.

"You have reached the voicemail of the The Hot New Yankee," Danny could hear the capitalization, "I'm currently off somewhere being Hot or New or a Yankee, so leave a message. Don't blame me. You did this America." *beeep*

"Why is no one answering their phones?! Answer your stupid phone, Der. CODE BURNT UMBER, you grumpy butt. He's not even answering my texts now. It's been three days and I'm still stuck on set. Please tell me you are on your way over there and aren't still on a plane somewhere." He hung up with an exasperated sigh.

Deep breaths. He was meant to be the calm one.

People were bustling around everywhere. He could see the gaffs and AD's running around trying to get the next scene ready. They were two days behind schedule because no one anticipated the New York City Sanitation Department to strike, as a result leaving a city covered in rubbish, pushing their outside shoot out by a week. Danny could see the fan's behind the barricade in the distance. The longer the shoot went on, the larger the crowd got.

Any other time he would be reveling in it. When he'd gotten the part in the pilot of Bryan Fuller's newest TV show, he'd been beyond excited. It hadn't even seemed real, but even he hadn't anticipated this, he hadn't anticipated 'The Big Three'. So being part of the most talked about TV show this year, was pretty worthy of revelry. Usually he'd be on Twitter teasing the fandom or on Instagram sharing fun behind-the-scenes guff. Not today, today he wanted to be at home. Needed to be at home. Not in this stupid chair, waiting.

Danny's phone rings in his hand, he answers it after the first buzz. "Tell me you are there?" he leans his elbows on his knees, one hand over his eyes, the other holding the phone to his ear.

"I'm in a cab. I'm 30 minutes away." Danny can hear the cab driver swearing in the background, "Okay, okay, just go as fast as you can." followed by silence. "Danny? Are you still there?" the voice is a comfort but seeing the scruffy face it's attached to would be better.

"I'm still here, Der, and I'll be here on this set for all eternity at this rate. Wait, a cab?"

"Yeah, my ride wasn't there, cab seemed quickest." He hesitated, "Danny," the voice shakes, "when I got off the plane, I had a voicemail from 4 am yesterday of him mumbling something about Cerulean Blue over and over again." There's a sigh and then an angry, "Fucking Code Burnt Umber."

"I know, Derek. I know. Just get there please. Call me as soon as you get there."

"If you weren't on set, I wouldn't hang up at all. Oh and Danny?"

"Yeah"

"Fire Greenberg."

----

Derek willed the traffic to clear and gave the cabbie a hundred to go faster.

Greenberg had been their most recent and most disastrous of assistants. He couldn't even arrange a car service from the airport. You'd think 'New York's Big Three' could do better, but one assistant for three hot celebrities was a hard task without the challenges they in particular bought to the table. Due to shit planning on Greenberg's part, the three of them had been separated for way too long. Three weeks is too long. Team duties often took him out of the country or away for long periods of time, but Danny should have been there instead.

Fucking Greenberg. Fucking Code Burnt Umber. One simple rule. Never schedule all three of them apart, simple. Not so simple. They had lost three assistants over it and now a fourth.

He crossed his arms, slumped in the back of the cab and closed his eyes. He just wanted to shower and sleep. He could feel the jet lag slowly engulfing him. The flight from Australia had been over fourteen hours, add that to the lay over in L.A and the connecting flight to JFK. That didn't count the night of no sleep prior when he'd received the first message of concern from Danny. What time is it anyway?

Pre-season team bonding in Australia had seemed like a great idea at the time, but the distance, time zones, and insane summer heat had driven him crazy. Oh and the fucking paps. How the paparazzi found him in another country he would never know. 'Hot New Yankee' they called him. They used that more than his name. Derek hated it. Yes, he was a slugger for the New York Yankees but he wasn't new. One season of fantastic hits combined with a paparazzi photo of him dancing with his shirt off, kissing someone in a club, and he was suddenly 'The Hot New Yankee'. He hated it. He was Derek Hale, dammit.

All that was a distant second place right now to needing to be home. Code Burnt Umber. Neither he or Danny had heard from him in days. He wasn't even responding to texts at this point, and texting was his main form of communication. No response was an automatic Code Burnt Umber.

"We're here," the driver stated as they pulled up to his building in The Village. He turned and looked at Derek, the face of slow recognition appearing on his features, "Hey! Hot New Yankee!" Derek soured. The driver flinched, took the extra hundred Derek threw at him and looked away. On most days, in Derek's mind, Greenwich Village was all sunshine and singing muppets. Today, as he exited the cab, he could feel the dark cloud hovering over his red brick home, the ex-firehouse at 70 Barrow Street.

Grabbing his bags, he bolted inside, dumping the luggage on the run up through the building. Speed dialing Danny as he went.

"STILES?!"

"Tell me you are there. I'm in a car service. I'm ten minutes away." Danny sounded freaked. Danny was never freaked. Danny was the calm one.

"I'm here." He took the spiral staircase steps three at a time, up to the studio on the top floor.

"STILES!!" he yelled the through the building again, reaching the sliding studio door, which was pointedly closed and locked. Derek banged on the door repeatedly, he'd punch through it if he had to. "STILES. PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR." The silence on the other side was extremely ominous. He tried again and again.

"Nothing. Fuck." Derek slid down onto the floor, his back leaning against the stubborn barrier. His breathing was heavy, the panic was settling in now. Danny was the calm one. Oh, Danny, who was still on the phone.

"Danny, how are you in a service car and not on set?"

"Just breath, Der. I'm five minutes away and fuck set," Danny never swore, "they can live without me for bit."

"Danny. You play Gomez Addams, in a show about Gomez and Morticia Addams, it's the lives of young Gomez and Morticia living their blissful kooky and ooky 20s in New York City. You're half the show."

"Well, they can shoot Allison's solo scenes or 2nd Unit or something. I'm pulling into our street now." He hung up.

Derek stood and tried banging again. He spoke through the door, "Stiles… please open the door. Please… be okay." He knew he was speaking to himself more than Stiles at this point.

He heard the front door open and the heavy foot steps of Danny doing the same run he did previously. Derek leant his forehead against the cold metal of the studio door. Breath Derek.

----

Stiles' brush hovered over the canvas, his chest ached, his brush started quivering in his hand. He hadn't slept in days… or was it weeks? It felt like weeks. Something was wrong with his pillow. He couldn't sleep without his pillow. It didn't smell right. It had lost it's smell. Cerulean Blue. What was he thinking with Colbolt Blue? Cerulean Blue. Cerulean Blue was where it's at. Cerulean Blue screamed ocean, Cerulean Blue screamed tears. Cerulean Blue was his life. Cerulean Blue was his love. His love. His loves. The ache in his chest roses to the surface again.

He turned the volume up even further on his headphones, he swore he could physically hear the pounding of his own heart through his chest. He was so close. He lifted his brush to the canvas again. This was the one. Finish this one and he could rest. Finish this one and he could stop.

Stiles new collection was being hailed with much anticipation by New York's Art scene. Actually, since one of his paintings had graced the cover of The New Yorker, everyone in Manhattan knew his name. Luckily for him, the name they knew him by was 'Gin', a shortened version of his birth name. It was used as a pseudonym to help hide him from the world. He was one of New York's Big Three and they didn't even know what he looked like.

This way he could spend his days painting to his hearts content and not deal with people. Stiles didn't like people. Well, very few people. People generally, on mass, were assholes. He took a step back from the canvas, Mermen on the other hand, were awesome. Well, abstract representations of Mermen were awesome.

The canvas in front of Stiles consumed the wall behind it. Stiles liked large. Large scale was good. One viewing of Monet's Water lilies and he had never gone small again. His current collection was littered around the studio, leaning against other walls, a couple lay on the wood floors. Jars of turpentine and brushes, and tubs and tubes of paint on every surface. There was an unblemished view of the sky through the large paned window, the sunlight shone and begged Stiles to curl up and rest his eyes.

Brand New played wistfully in his ears, he swayed, no, he staggered. His hand and brush shook vigorously. He pushed and twisted his fingers into his chest. He missed them. He could hear Derek's voice now. It's not real. He'd been seeing and hearing things the last few days. It's just the lack of sleep. He dropped his brush and counted his fingers. 10. Good, not dreaming, but he could still hear the banging of his heart and Derek's voice. He could have a drink? No. They would hate that. He would hate that. God, how he missed them. Stiles sunk to the floor, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and thought of his Abyss. Cerulean Blue. Cerulean Blue. Cerulean Blue.

-----

They hadn't had a Code Burnt Umber in over a year. Danny thought they'd make it through this collection unscathed. They had already fought this battle. Stupid Greenberg. He ran up the spiral stair case. If they hadn't been separated… Derek. Derek was there, endlessly pounding on the studio door, forehead rested forward, pleading to Stiles to please open up. His back was to him, Danny could see his broad shoulders knotted through his dark green henley, his breathing haggard and heavy. Danny stepped up behind Derek and placed his hands gently on Derek's hips.

"We're here. We're home. Breathe, Der." The 'it's going to be okay' is unspoken but he knows Derek understands.

Derek leant his head back to rest against Danny's shoulder, just the edge of his panic leaving him, "He isn't answering. What if he's done it this time? What if he's drunk himself into his "Abyss"?"

Stiles pretended to hate it when Derek used the air quotes when referencing his Abyss, but they all knew the teasing was foreplay. This time it took on a serious tone. Danny wrapped his arms around Derek further and pressed their temples together. Danny was done. He was tired, he's been on set for too long, and everything had meant to be better when Derek got back, but now Stiles was Burnt Umber-ing all over the place. Danny was meant to be the calm one.

"Let's bust the door off it's fucking rails."

Derek spun in his arms facing him and furrowed his eyebrows, "Danny, you swore. That's twice now. You never swear."

Danny raised one eyebrow of his own, "That's the part you focus on?"

"Right. Door. Busting." They brace themselves on one side of the sliding metal door. "Okay, kick on three. One… two… three!" With a loud crunch, the door flew open and toppled with a thump.

Stiles was unconscious on the floor.

"STILES!" They raced to his side. Derek braced Stiles' head in his lap, Danny leant over him, his and Derek's hands together framed Stiles' face.

Danny could see the dark circles under Stiles eyes, he was so pale, apart from the parts covered in paint. There was a streak of white through the front of his hair, greens and greys all over his black shirt, and blue all over his face and hands. Not completely out of the ordinary. Paint on Stiles was as frequent as his constellation of moles, but hadn't he left the studio at all? His thumb gently slid along Stiles' cheek bone, had he been eating? From here he could hear the dulcet tones of Jesse Lacey through his head phones which has slipped from his head in the chaos, and what appeared to be… snoring?!

"He's asleep."

Danny watched as Derek's whole body physically unlocked, his shoulders finally relaxed somewhat. Derek wrapped one hand around the back of Danny's neck pulling their foreheads together. "He hasn't slept while we've been away, thinks his pillow smells wrong, has camped out in his studio painting 24 hours a day, has forgotten to eat, has been listening to angst ridden Brand New over and over again, and has now passed out probably chanting Burnt Umber this whole time."

He nodded, the tattoo of his heart beat finally steadying . "Exactly that."

"Cerulean Blue, actually." Stiles slurred, mid waking up, he tapped his finger on the tip of Danny's nose, then on Derek's, and proceeded to pass out again.

Danny looked at Derek's nose, a small smile crossed his face, his dimples showing for sure.

"What?"

"Stiles blew us."

"What?!" Derek wiped the tip of his own nose, and looked at the paint on his finger.

"Ha. Stiles Cerulean Blue us."

----

[Disclaimer: The characters of Danny Mahealani, Derek Hale, and Stiles Stilinski belong to the TV show Teen Wolf and it's creators. This is a fan created fiction placing these characters in an alternate universe and scenario.


As I'm not very descriptive of their appearances because it's written for people who are already Teen Wolf fans, here is the Derek, The Hot New Yankee , also Danny, the Dimples, and finally Stiles, Mr Cerulean Blue.

The band Stiles is listening to is real and is called Brand New. This is a nod to one of my favourite Sterek  (Stiles/Derek) AU fictions, Play Crack the Sky by Derrbobs.

The Ex-Firehouse in 70 Barrow Street in The Village is a real place. I have made it one giant home instead of separate apartments.

This story can also be found on Ao3.
]

1 Comment

So here it is.

19/1/2015

9 Comments

 
Today I was going to write a new chapter in a fan fiction I have started writing. I just couldn't get going. I was procrastinating on my social networks and a story of a cat saving an abandoned baby in a cardboard box came up in my feed, then a picture of someone's new born baby, and then a toddler's birthday photos.

I've been struggling with wanting to write and share this for a while, and here's a preemptive disclaimer, I am not asking for advice or any answers from you the reader of this. I am simply sharing my story because I feel it's a topic that due to societal expectations, pressures, and many other factors, is just not talked about. I have been frustrated with this fact for some time now, and I hope that my story will help change things and perhaps help someone else out there, who like me, felt alone and separated from the world.

I can't have kids. My husband and I can't have kids.

We have been trying for over 5 years now. We have tried all the normal ways, and then the medical ways. Fertility drugs and charting of all the things happening in your body. We have checked all our levels, parts, and bits are all in working order. For the record, there is nothing wrong. We have what is called 'Unexplained Infertility'. Talk about frustrating. Sometimes I wish there was something wrong, then I would have something to fix.

I know, you're thinking, you are only in your 30s! You're so young! My cousin was over 40 when she got pregnant. Yeah well, that's what the IVF (In Vitro Fertilisation) people said. We've been doing IVF for a few years now, and guess what, nothing. Each time they are surprised it hasn't worked for us. These are trained medical professionals who help get people pregnant every day and know how it all works and know the stats and they are surprised that it hasn't worked for us 'yet'. They always add the 'yet'. God how I hate the word 'yet'. Like, sorry this isn't working for you and that you are miserable and that the IVF drugs have made you crazy and are physically making you feel like death but let's tack on the 'yet' so you don't forget to be optimistic!

As many of you know, because I get told it all the time, positivity is what actually gets you pregnant. It has nothing to do with embryos sticking to uterine walls or anything, but if you think positive and go on a holiday, there will be babies coming out of you by the time you hit customs on the way home.

The one thing better than positivity is to stop trying and stop thinking about it all together! I know your cousin got pregnant the moment they stopped trying! I'm sorry, I am very happy for your cousin, but unless your cousin had some immaculate conception, she was having sex, and if she was having sex, she was thinking about babies. If not during the act, she was after. She had a delightful romp with her partner and was happy for not having to think about what position is best for makin' babies, and then she remembered that there is sperm inside her that might do things, and she lay on her back without moving for 20 minutes 'just in case'.

Here's a little secret. You can't stop thinking about it.

Facebook aside, which is full of constant reminders that babies exist, there are TV commercials, friends with kids, movies and TV shows that are about people with kids or having kids, or will casually still mention pregnancy in really annoying ways constantly, and frankly children in strollers are everywhere. I think there is a patrol of them who come out whenever I leave the house. Funnily, blonde babies are fine. Show me a brunette baby and I start to turn, gosh, a black haired baby, and I want to find the closest sharp pointy thing and start stabbing myself in the eye.

Okay, so I sound pretty negative. Well, it's been a long journey to Mordor and we keep throwing that ring into the volcano but the volcano keeps spitting it back out again.

To back track a bit, I have no harsh feelings for the parent/s that abandoned the baby that was 'saved' by the cat. I have no ill feelings for anyone who does have kids, or can't handle having kids, or doesn't want kids. I am Pro-choice. Everyone and their circumstances are different. I also love my friends kids. Yes it stings whenever I hear a pregnancy announcement. I go off and have a little cry somewhere sometimes, but I love my friends kids. I love my nephew and niece and I love my godson. When I spend time with them I have a joyous time and most of the time I am happy and not sad.

Much like people who choose not to have children, what I do get frustrated with is people asking me when I am planning on having kids, or are we going to have kids. I know people mean well and don't know what they are asking, but it's rude. This is one of the many reason I feel the need to talk about my infertility. After having been trying to conceive for so long, many of my close friends and family know whats going on. Partly because keeping secret such a life consuming part of my daily being became impossible for me, but partly to try and prevent people from asking the dreaded question "So, when are you having kids?"

You might be feeling a little guilty right now. You, like many people, have asked someone this question. They probably have just been married, or have been living together for a little while, or you haven't seen them in a while, and they just bought a house. I mean it's societies natural order of things. You meet someone, you get married, you buy a house, you get a small dog or something, you turn a certain age, and *bamn* it's time for society to say in capital letters 'YOU ARE EXPECTED TO HAVE KIDS NOW, Y U NO KIDS? HAVE KIDS'. It's practically up there with people talking about the weather and asking "how are you?" when really they are just saying hello.

Well, guess what, I want you to feel guilty. I want you to stop doing it. Stop asking people. For one, they might not want to have kids ever, and it's rude to assume that everyone wants this. Two, and obviously more relevant to me, they might be going through the long and terrible process that is trying to have kids, or maybe they can't have kids at all. They may know for a fact that they aren't physically capable of having children. Here they are having a nice day at work, or drinking a cup of tea, and you come in and with one little question, their insides rot and their day is ruined. While all you see is a straight face, and all you hear is a little "Who knows, one day" while they shrug off the question, you move on and forget you even asked and later on, they cry in the bathroom.

Look, I don't remember if I used to do this too. I probably did. Everyone does it. It's one of the unfortunate side effects of a society where we don't talk about fertility problems. Heck it's a product of a society where we don't talk about sex education and reproduction enough in general. It's why I think we need to talk about it more. I get why people don't talk about when they are trying. You can liken it to the first trimester of pregnancy where people don't tell anyone they are pregnant just in case something goes wrong and they miscarry. It's an awful thought to have to tell people that it failed while you are busy mourning the loss. It's easier not to tell people at all. Trying for kids can be just like that.

At first you think, I'll keep that we are trying a secret so it will be a surprise for everyone when we get pregnant. Then after it's been a while, you think, well, I don't want to worry people and have the pressure of them asking me how is it all going, so you keep the secret. Then, for me, I got sick of having no one to talk to so I told a few close friends. Then after an even longer time, I thought I'm so sick of coming up with excuses for why I can't drink alcohol or do strenuous activity at certain times of the month, and most of all, frankly, I got sick of pretending everything was okay. That I was okay, when I most certainly wasn't.  So I tell people at random now.  Then finally, I'm here now, writing about it.

I went searching for like minded people on the internet. I started in baby forums. While I think this is an excellent support system, it's just not for me. Every second day there is someone who succeeded and an endless stream of optimism that after a while I just couldn't handle. They tend to separate these forums into sections. The first is the freshies. The people at the beginning of their 'Trying to Conceive' journey. All excited, as you should be, busily counting their cycle days and figuring out the best time to bump uglies with their partners. It's best to keep these people separated from the 'Long Term Trying to Conceive' section which you count as being a part of after only one year of trying! This section at least contains less of the "I've been feeling sick all day, and my left ear is itchy, and I hate the sound of the microwave, does this mean I'm pregnant?" type thing, which is inevitably followed up with someone saying they totally read somewhere that itchy left ears are totally a pregnancy symptom, type optimists from the first section. Then there is the last section, the "Long LONG Term Trying to Conceive' section. Which is basically barren (Ha! Just like out uteruses!) because no one really posts as we've all given up on the forums a long time ago.

I have found the odd article or blog post that people like me have posted. They will be about all the silly questions people ask that annoy us, and the troubles and woes of infertility, but so far, every single one has ended with them getting pregnant. Yes I can hear you, doesn't this mean I should be positive? No. You know what it means? It means people are only comfortable writing about this time in their lives if it results in a happy outcome.

Did you know that one in six couples is infertile? That we put so much fear of god into our teenagers about using protection so you won't get pregnant, which is a good thing, that we forget to teach them how the body actually works. It's great to teach teenagers about safe sex from STD's and about how one slip of failing to use a condom can result in pregnancy, but as a result we are causing people to become adults who don't know that it might not happen at all. Yes some people can get pregnant at the drop of a hat, movies totally perpetuate this fact, but did you know that for healthy couples in their twenties having regular unprotected sex, the chance of becoming pregnant each month is 25 per cent. 25 PERCENT! And after over a year of trying that percentage drops dramatically. It's important people know how common infertility is, especially in a society that revolves around an expectation that having babies is what we are designed to do. Well some of us aren't designed that way.

And here I am. I'm not going to surprise you at the end of this with a happy announcement that after all these troubles we have a baby on the way. We don't.

We have also decided for the moment to take a break from the IVF and from counting days and from all of it. This might be a forever break. Who knows. I'm not going to go jump on the pill and start using condoms anytime soon, because frankly if we don't have to deal with that, yay us, but we also aren't going to actively try for the moment. If we do magically, and I really mean the word magically at this point, get pregnant now that we have 'stopped trying', then huzzah, but it's not because we stopped. That's not how science and biology works, and if you say otherwise I will punch you in the nose. If it happens, it will happen because for some reason out of the many, many, many, many fertilised embryos that I have had in my body and have failed to do so, there is one that has been created that has finally decided to stick to my uterine wall and carried on into pregnancy.

So far that hasn't happened, and that is okay. I will be okay. We will be okay. We will drink and be merry, laugh, travel, and buy things with somewhat reckless abandon, because we aren't just this one thing in our lives. We are a family of two people and one cat (so far) in this happy little house.

Lastly, if you are trying to have kids, that is wonderful news to me. I really hope you succeed. I genuinely mean that. But if you are having a bad day, or are tired, or you have the knowledge that you cannot have kids, or are just like me, tired of trying for the moment, tired of having to pretend everything is okay, well, I am here for you. I hope this helps in some small way and if you feel the need, vent away.

Believe it or not, this is me actually trying to open up a platform for people to talk and ask about infertility and our time trying to conceive . You are actually welcome to ask, say, about our IVF process or anything like that. Just please don't tell me things that you have heard worked for other people. It just makes me sad.

Thanks for listening, and yes I've tried acupuncture and no at this stage we don't want to adopt, and trust me, we've tried it all, but feel free to make suggestions, you can help me complete another of my Infertility Bingo Cards.

9 Comments

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