Ficlet: #blessed (enough to set the phone aside) (MPR AU, Jane/Jack)
#blessed (enough to set the phone aside). Mary Poppins Returns. Teen. Jane Banks/Jack. Modern day AU. Dedicated to the person sitting in my row with the phone on when I watched the film. 456 words.
Summary: Jane Banks contemplates her online trail.
#blessed (enough to set the phone aside): shallowness
On Jane Banks’s profile on all her social media, it says ‘Activist. Trade union organiser.’ Yes, she cut and pasted it whenever she started a new one. What else needed to be said? And she backs up the description by posting regularly, linking information about rallies and demos. #SPRUCE, #thisthatandtheother…
But if her online trail is any proof, Jane Banks’s social life is non-existent. Her Facebook profile used to state she was an aunt and sister. It once said she was a sister-in-law, and she used to be diligent about posting about Michael’s art shows, sometimes linking to sketches he posted, but then there hadn’t been any need. Long before that, she’d stopped obsessing over her relationship status.
It had been a relief to drop Facebook, honestly.
The only exception to a string of photos from demos recently was a balloon she’d tagged #ThisIsMe, causing no end of confusion to her colleagues at SPRUCE. @Elsiecooks1964 had liked it and commented with a winky face, though.
This morning, very late in the morning, Jane lifts up her phone, and for the first time in a while can imagine herself taking a photo and tagging it #blessed, all these years after the tag became mocked. Because there’s a very handsome creature lying beside her in her bed. The shot would be of just an elbow or a shoulder, framed by her pink sheets.
Yes, Jane Banks is contemplating becoming one of Those People. She feels a prickle of heat, re-igniting the burn left behind on her cheeks and on her neck, and in certain places she would never want to mention in front of her niece and nephews.
But the man with the stubble responsible talks about being blessed without a thought of Instagram or irony. And that’s why Jane stopped kidding herself that they were just friends. What’s happened since she took that decision has been too wonderful to share online, too wonderful to waste.
There’s no message from Michael, everyone is doing fine at Cherry Tree Lane. Jane sets the phone aside on her bedside table without tapping a character or checking a news feed.
Her handsome Jack-the-lad is looking up at her, watching her, like he said he used to do, except it’s all different now.
“All’s well with the world?” he asks.
“No idea,” she replies. “I just wanted to check the time - we’re too far away to hear the Admiral here.”
“The time?” he asks, smiling, and it’s both heart-stopping and something Jane is getting used to.
“I think we’ve got plenty of time,” she tells him solemnly.
“For what?” Jack asks, but in a knowing voice. Jane can’t help it, she really can’t, and giggles, before leaning down to snog him senseless.
This entry was originally posted at https://shallowness.dreamwidth.org/369463.html.
Summary: Jane Banks contemplates her online trail.
#blessed (enough to set the phone aside): shallowness
On Jane Banks’s profile on all her social media, it says ‘Activist. Trade union organiser.’ Yes, she cut and pasted it whenever she started a new one. What else needed to be said? And she backs up the description by posting regularly, linking information about rallies and demos. #SPRUCE, #thisthatandtheother…
But if her online trail is any proof, Jane Banks’s social life is non-existent. Her Facebook profile used to state she was an aunt and sister. It once said she was a sister-in-law, and she used to be diligent about posting about Michael’s art shows, sometimes linking to sketches he posted, but then there hadn’t been any need. Long before that, she’d stopped obsessing over her relationship status.
It had been a relief to drop Facebook, honestly.
The only exception to a string of photos from demos recently was a balloon she’d tagged #ThisIsMe, causing no end of confusion to her colleagues at SPRUCE. @Elsiecooks1964 had liked it and commented with a winky face, though.
This morning, very late in the morning, Jane lifts up her phone, and for the first time in a while can imagine herself taking a photo and tagging it #blessed, all these years after the tag became mocked. Because there’s a very handsome creature lying beside her in her bed. The shot would be of just an elbow or a shoulder, framed by her pink sheets.
Yes, Jane Banks is contemplating becoming one of Those People. She feels a prickle of heat, re-igniting the burn left behind on her cheeks and on her neck, and in certain places she would never want to mention in front of her niece and nephews.
But the man with the stubble responsible talks about being blessed without a thought of Instagram or irony. And that’s why Jane stopped kidding herself that they were just friends. What’s happened since she took that decision has been too wonderful to share online, too wonderful to waste.
There’s no message from Michael, everyone is doing fine at Cherry Tree Lane. Jane sets the phone aside on her bedside table without tapping a character or checking a news feed.
Her handsome Jack-the-lad is looking up at her, watching her, like he said he used to do, except it’s all different now.
“All’s well with the world?” he asks.
“No idea,” she replies. “I just wanted to check the time - we’re too far away to hear the Admiral here.”
“The time?” he asks, smiling, and it’s both heart-stopping and something Jane is getting used to.
“I think we’ve got plenty of time,” she tells him solemnly.
“For what?” Jack asks, but in a knowing voice. Jane can’t help it, she really can’t, and giggles, before leaning down to snog him senseless.
This entry was originally posted at https://shallowness.dreamwidth.org/369463.html.