#I’ve had her for 30 min and I will protect her with my life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rogueshadeaux · 1 year

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Chapter Twenty-Two — Fractured Resurgence

That didn’t matter. There had to be eight people here, and I couldn’t do much at all. Everything hurt. I scooted back a bit more, and noticed a thin trail of red that followed after me; my side was open, staining the gown they had me in and blood slipping through the gaps in the side clasps.

8k words | Approx. 30 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: Blood, medical facility/care, fractures [bone], anesthesia, other injuries, a long chapter because I couldn't figure out where to stop it and decided not to lol

I’d never felt more disoriented in my life.

I’ve had fevers that‘ve put me out. I’ve fainted quite a few times — a couple when I had that anemia issue back in middle school when I started having periods, and more recently because of the whole Akuran thing. Never have I woken up this incoherently.

My eyes wouldn’t focus, although that might have been because of the bright artificial light shining right in them. Bright light — Mom. She was there, she was just here, and even after being hit by her neon in an attack, she was all I could think about. Was the light coming from her still? “Mom?”

The sound came out grated and croaked like I hadn’t used my voice in years. It definitely hurt. Everything hurt, though.

“Body temperature’s at 89,” someone said off to my right.

“Oxygen is below normal,” someone else added.

Everything around me began to gain borders, outlines and shapes that moved so fast my vision couldn’t keep up, somehow lagging in their processing and making everything that moved gain doubles. Holy fuck, it was so cold in here. Every violent shiver made me cringe as it was followed by a rough twinge of pain.

“Call for a hemodialysis machine,” someone commanded.

There were more orders, some long words and ones that honestly sounded made up. What did make sense to me was the voice talking about making an ’access point’ and saying, “We’ll put the catheter in her neck.”

I then felt rapid rubbing on my collar bone, and something in the back of my brain — the bit of me still cognitive — realized they meant my neck.

I went to raise my hand, to swat away whoever was at my neck in a weak effort to keep them away — but the movement sent a whole different sort of pain up my body. I whimpered at the sting, unable to even ball up my fist as my arm lit up, the only warm part of my body as the acute agony set it on fire.

The pain did something for me, at least; my vision gained more detail with a hard blink. I was under some giant spotlight, blinded and barely able to see that I was surrounded on all sides by masked people in full green. Doctors?

They didn’t seem to care about the pain in my arm, like doctors would. In fact, the only thing they acknowledged was that I was awake, that calmed voice demanding, “We need to sedate her.”

There was bustling around all of a sudden — three of the doctors surrounding me disappeared, two new ones took their place. Someone lifted my head slightly and there was suddenly an oxygen mask on my face. How’d I get here? I wasn’t anywhere near a hospital. There was Mom just a moment ago, and before all of that, I was fighting Augustine.

Mom. I could still see her face imprinted on the back of my eyelids, could hear her insistence that I needed to go. Was this what she was trying to protect me from? What were they gonna do to me?

I wasn’t sure. All I knew is that, at some point, Archangel was involved, and I wasn’t sure if they still were.

My other arm moved with more ease, reaching up to push the mask off of my nose and mouth. I couldn’t let them sedate me, I couldn’t let them get me into a position where I was at their disposal. Who knows what they’d do!

There was a hand around my wrist, grip stronger than anything I could summon, and the mask was being slipped back on by someone behind me. I shook my head roughly and tried to demand space from them with, “Leave me alone,” croaked out on a cough.

“Cognitive.”

“Good,” that smoother voice said, “It worked, but we still need to stabilize her.”

I tried shaking off the hand on my wrist, tried sitting up. There was sudden pressure on my shoulder, and someone tried to tell me to stay still.

All it did was activate my fight response.

“Let me—“ I cut off again, yanking my arm harder to lose the grip there. “Let me go—“

“She’s becoming combative,” The one holding my shoulders warned.

“We need a tranq!” Someone else yelled.

That doctor with the calm voice looked at me over black glasses, saying, “I need you to stop fighting, okay? You’re only going to hurt your—“

I didn’t care about what he was saying; behind him, another doctor approached with a syringe, impossibly long needle surely the gateway to me losing any sort of control in this fight.

Wriggling free from the grip on my wrist, I swung my hand wildly, connecting with the stomach on a scrubbed doc on my left and making her squeak in pain. The mask on my face was coming loose from the thrashing and I ripped it off, pushing away another hand before it could intercept me. I had to leave, I had to get out of here!

My hand shook as I summoned water, the liquid struggling to crawl down my arm and into my palm as if it too was exhausted. But it crawled nonetheless, shooting off at the face of the doctor holding my shoulders and making them stumble back, releasing me.

There was a gap at my feet, wide enough to fit through, so I shifted to water and left on a mad dash, collapsing when my legs wouldn’t work like they should. Everything about me felt so sluggish, like there was something in between my brainstem and the rest of my body and slowing any communication between the two. Anything besides the pain, of course — especially when I moved to catch myself.

My right arm, the arm I watched shatter when I was ice, refused to hold my weight, something in it bending awkwardly and stabbing away at the ligaments inside, making me cry out. I collapsed on that shoulder and rolled, tucking the broken arm close to my chest as I scooted backwards. Two doctors broke from the horde and began after me, and the hand I was using to push back came up, shooting a volley of water squirts at them. I hit one in the chest, their flailing for something solid as they fell back latching onto their friend’s neckline and dragging them down with ‘em.

That doctor that had made eye contact came around the bed, hands up in surrender — but he said something over the shoulder to another scrubbed up doc behind him, who nodded and left the room. What did he tell them to go get? “Regina—“ the doctor began, but I was having none of it. No one who knows me calls me Regina.

“Don’t!” I threatened, lifting my uninjured arm from the wound on my side. There wasn’t a lot of water that traveled around it at all, and my shoulders were throbbing. I was almost out.

The doctor took another step. “You’re not sta—“

“Stay away from me!” I tried to scream, shrill and sharp. My voice cracked somewhere in the scream and a few tears pushed to the surface, both out of hurt and horror.

How was I supposed to get out of this if I was surrounded and almost out of water? If they got to me and sedated me, that was it. I was at their mercy, and I wasn’t sure if they’d spare me any.

That door on the side burst open and some giant machine with dozens of buttons was wheeled in, followed by two scrubbed doctors—

And after them came a third doc leading Dad and pointing straight at me.

He looked like hell, disheveled and with deep bags under his eyes that sank further as they widened after spotting me. My arm wavered slightly in place. “Dad?”

He looked to that calm doctor for some sort of permission and received it via nod, starting towards me the moment the head bobbing began. He rushed over on a jog and slid the last foot on his knees, a hand immediately going to the bicep on one arm while his other reached out to grip me by the wrist, prompting my water to sink away. “Jeanie…” he whispered before wrapping me into a hug.

I gripped the loose side of his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to here and began crying, flooded with mixed feelings of relief and fear and that damn stinging pain. Dad was here. I’m safe. I had no energy to do anything anymore but shake and sob.

“You’re okay, baby girl,” he whispered into my hair, one hand going to rub my back. I flinched when he hit something in my skin that burned with his poke, and he moved that hand back to my bicep. “It’s okay.”

There were footsteps and I pulled away from Dad’s chest enough to see one of the scrubbed doctors approach, crouching just a few feet away. It was that one barking orders, the same one that tried to talk me down. I tucked a bit deeper into Dad, who’s hand absentmindedly began to rub circles into my arm. “He’s safe, Jean — you know him,”

The doctor lifted a hand to his face and pulled down the mask, the gentle smile behind it managing to shock me in place. “You’re a fighter,” Dr. Sims chuckled. “Remind me of your mom,”

Doctor Sims pioneered the mapping of the Conduit genome using information from the Bennet Protein Assay, and had used his knowledge and talents to become one of, like, seventeen doctors in the world that could be entrusted with taking care of a Conduit’s health. I wasn’t sure how it all worked, and what I did understand made it sound exhausting, but he was the person that helped break down how a Conduit became one. How it aided in heightened physiology, how the proteins it produced reacted with injuries to speed-heal them.

Healing — I was doing none of that right now, something Dr. Sims noted as he looked at the thin trail of blood by one of his netted sneakers. “You’re conscious, and that’s great — but you’re still not in the clear. We need to get you warm so your body can heal, and hypothermia is really dangerous even with being a Conduit.”

I shook my head, Dad trying to interject with, “Jean, you’re freezing—” because he thought I didn’t want to move. But that’s not what I was concerned about.

“I can’t heal,” I whimpered out.

Dad’s hand froze on my bicep. “Jeanie, you’re just exhausted—”

“I can’t heal.” I repeated, shaking my head harder. A mistake, because the room began to spin. “I can’t — they did something to me, Augustine did something to—”

Dr. Sim’s hand came up to silence me. “Let’s just — let’s do this one step at a time, then, okay? I need you to get in the bed to get warmed before your organs enter shock. Think you can do that?”

I was freezing, and not shivering like a chihuahua sounded pretty good. But I remembered how they planned to sedate me, how everything was going to be taken out of my hands and put in their trust, and hesitated. Dr. Sims seemed to register this, though, and said, “Your dad can stay the entire time, if you want.”

Dad was already looking down at me when I glanced up, giving me a sort of stiff smile that didn’t really meet his eyes. But his tone was genuine as he said, “I’ll be right there. Nothing bad’ll happen,”

I nodded, Dr. Sims looking back almost immediately after and giving the floor to a subordinate who barked orders around the room — an operating room, I realized — making it come back to life. “I’m here for the Conduit part more than medical, but I know everyone here. They’re all trustworthy.” He promised me. He then looked at Dad. “Think you can carry her to the bed, D?”

Dad nodded, the bottom of his chin gently knocking against the top of my head. “Yeah, sure,”

Dr. Sims stood and bustled off somewhere, leaving Dad to readjust so I was in his arms and lift me. I winced when he did as my broken arm bounced off my chest, something he didn’t miss, those lines on his forehead burrowing further. “What’s wrong?”

My teeth kept bouncing between being grit and chittering. “M-my arm,” I said. “It’s broken,”

“You sure?” He asked, as if I couldn’t feel the bone that was ripped in half bouncing around between the muscles in there. I didn’t have enough energy for a sarcastic quip, though, so I just nodded.

Dad gently laid me back in the bed, hesitating when some nurse came up to lead him away to get scrubbed up. I guess whatever they planned on doing to me needed to be sterile. He glanced between the nurse and me before saying, “I’ll be right over there, okay?”

I suddenly had a mask fixed to my face again, the air coming out of it impossibly warm. There were people at all sides of me; two prepping some spot on my collarbone, one trying to put in a PICC line on the hand of my fucked arm. They jerked it a bit and I cried out, causing even more poking and prodding as they diagnosed me with a break and began efforts to splint it.

The PICC safely in my opposite hand now, Dad managed to fit himself where that doctor stood when she flitted away to get some medicine to connect to it, gowned and masked. The doctors were explaining what was going on to him more than me, but I heard everything, especially when they began talking about connecting something to my jugular and wanting to sedate me for it. “We don’t want to stress her body too much right now,” one scrubbed doc said, looking between Dad and Dr. Sims.

I couldn’t see Dad’s face, but his eyes sure had that disapproval they’d reserve for the worst of punishments. But he nodded, giving them permission as my guardian to do what they needed to.

I’ve never had surgery. No traitorous appendix, no tonsilitus — I was born without wisdom teeth, for fucks sake. I’ve never had a reason to be put under until now, and I was sure the apprehension was clear on my face if the way Dad reacted was any hint. “Hey, you’ll be okay, Jeanie,” He promised again. That seemed to be all he was handing out right now, and I was terrified they were going to be broken. He leaned down till he was eye level with me, six inches away from my face. “It’s just to keep you from getting hurt. And I’ll be right here. I’m not leaving you, not again.”

All I could do was nod. It wasn’t like I had many choices here.

In the three minutes it took for an anesthesiologist to get here, Dad didn’t move from my side, even when one of the doctors looked at him in annoyance ‘cause he was in the way. He just stayed there, hand wrapped around mine, fingers avoiding the needle that was pumping something in me. I looked at our hands and didn’t realize my nail beds were dark blue until that moment. It was nothing like the black they were when we practiced, but it was still startling to see my skin that grayed and pale.

After another minute of permissions and a new machine placed on the other side of me, the anesthesiologist was reassuring me how I wouldn’t even know I was out until I woke back up, and that it wouldn’t hurt a bit. I wasn’t really listening much — Dad’s hand shifted around in mine a bit, his pinky finger twisting around mine. A silent promise.

I was back under before even really registering it, the last thing on my mind the imprint of Dad’s reassurances.

The first time I drifted back, Dad was running a hand over my forehead, pushing back the hair plastered to it. I could barely keep my eyes open, couldn’t even really register how the room changed despite knowing that it did. Dad wasn’t scrubbed up anymore, though, so I imagine whatever needed to happen while I was out was done.

“Hey, Jeanie,” he cooed when he saw my eyes flutter. “How you feeling?”

I couldn’t even find my voice to respond for a few seconds, left wheezing a bit as I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water. “Tired,” I finally managed to croak. Fuck, my throat was sore. My everything was sore.

Dad caught the rasp and reached off somewhere my eyes wouldn’t focus enough to see, and came back with some large jug with a straw that looked like a stretched out accordion, encouraging me to sip. It was the best feeling in the world; not only was I thirsty in a dehydrated sense, but also in a Conduit sense. Getting some new, fresh water in my system eased some tension in my neck and shoulders, made it easier to lay my head back down and close my eyes, drifting back off.

The second time I woke back up was just as hard, full of delirium and confusion as I looked to where I last saw Dad and saw the space empty. Something itched in my neck, and I moved to scratch at it — at least, that was the plan before my hand was intercepted by someone else’s.

“Don’t think they want you touching that,” Brent said, laying my hand back down into my lap.

Brent. The last time I saw him, he was at Augustine’s mercy, and I left him to that same fate after pulling the tsunami over myself. I didn’t even know what happened to him. “You’re okay,” I mumbled. I couldn’t bring my voice much higher.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, the smile on his face somehow not looking joyful at all. “Yeah, I’m okay. You’re not, though,”

I leaned my head back, letting my eyes close. Why was keeping them open so much work? “She was going to kill you,” I had to stop to cough, the action lighting up my sternum with pain.

“That doesn’t mean you go and get yourself killed,” he chastised, though there was no real bite to it. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

We fell to silence, me wincing as my chest settled. Everything in me felt so broken. “Dad just went out to talk to Dr. Sims in the hall,” Brent eventually offered. “They said you’re looking good, but…”

I opened my eyes to watch him bite on his cheek a bit, unsure of where to go next. “You’re...Jean, you’re not healing. Not like you should,”

I shakily inhaled. “I know,”

“They think it’s the stress, that after resting it’ll work,” he continued. “Said if you take a few hits it can take days to recover.”

“We took a lot more than a few, huh?”

Brent chuckled lightly. “Yeah, no kidding,”

Something was pulling at the muscles in my shoulders, making them sink deeper into the bed to try and get comfortable again, and I could feel myself slipping under once more. Before it took me fully, though, I could hear Brent whisper, “I’m just glad you’re okay,”

“Me too,” I muttered back, hoping he understood I meant I was glad he was okay. I didn’t get the chance to clarify before I was out again.

The third time I came back around was different than the rest; there wasn’t any fugue, and while I was still exhausted, I wasn’t tired. That itch in my neck was stronger now, and I went to scratch at it again—

And hissed in pain when my arm twinged.

Instead of my left this time, I tried using my right hand to scratch away at whatever was irritating my skin, and the action alone was enough to make me suddenly cringe, drawing in my legs like that’d do anything to make the pain stop. My arm was in a cradle splint that just wasn’t doing enough to help it.

Dad shot out of the chair he was sitting in and rushed to my side, saying, “Hey, what’s wrong? What’s wrong?”

“My arm,” I whimpered out through grit teeth. “It hurts,”

Dad looked over me to Brent, who was propped up on the cushions of some bay window turned nest and commanded, “Go get a doctor.” Brent nodded, rushing off past a curtain that separated us from the entrance, the audible click of the door the only sign that he left at all.

Dad had coaxed my legs down and got me to lay my arm across my lap by the time Brent returned with three people in tow; a doctor, shadowed closely by her nurse, and Doctor Sims, free of anything medical and instead in a pullover hoodie and jeans.

“What’s going on?” The doctor asked, more pointedly at Dad than me. Like I couldn’t answer for myself.

“Says her arm hurts,” Dad offered simply, making me sound like the most dramatic kid alive.

The doctor nodded, though, moving to my right and greeting me briefly before asking the basics; how bad did it hurt, could I show her where? She undid the ACE bandage that held the splint in place to look closely, and the shade my arm was when it was revealed under the wrappings made my stomach flip; nearly the entire top part of my forearm was bruised purple and blue, burst capillaries poking through the negative space like stars in a cloudy sky. “Do you remember how this happened, Regina?” The doc asked after prodding me in a spot that made my eyes moisten with tears.

I wracked my brain to remember, the events from before still trapped in some sort of fog that refused to waver. “It was…” I trailed off, thinking. “I was hit with debris from a platform. I—” I cut off. How the hell do you explain watching your iced-over form shatter in place and knowing that’s when the break happened? “I watched it break when it was hit,” I finished lamely.

The doctor nodded, satisfied with the answer at least. “I’m gonna have an x-ray camera brought in here to image you and see if you’ve made any healing progress before we decide our course of action,” She finally said, looking between Dad and I.

Dad gave those permissions they always looked to him to give, and the doctor rushed off to call in the request, her nurse staying behind to check my vitals. He undid some clasping of the hospital gown at my arm and snaked his hand around till his stethoscope was on my chest, its sting from more than just cold; I was bruised all along my sternum, too, kisses left from the hit of concrete I took in my fight with Augustine that was enough to launch me into the whirlpool wall I’d made.

How hurt was I? The nurse seemed satisfied with my respiratory stuff and then peeled back the taping on a bandage at my neck, looking at something there and asking, “Does this hurt?”

“Itches,” I offered.

He nodded, trying his best to seem joyful. “Itching’s good! Means you’re healing. Stitches look good, at least. I know this is probably hard considering what you are, but you’re going to need to keep the area dry while it heals. Covered, too. You do not want air getting into it.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him as he began trying to coax me to sit forward. “Getting into what?”

The nurse looked surprised I wasn’t in the know, as if I wasn’t sleeping away the past few hours. “The hole in your jugular for the hemodialysis catheter. An embolism is a one-way ticket upstairs, so for now, keep it covered.”

I didn’t know much about what he just said, but I did know what dialysis meant. “Wh-, did my kidneys fail–”

Dad’s hand squeezed mine gently. “They used it to warm your blood when you had hypothermia.”

“Unfortunately, sticking patients in microwaves seems to have negative effects,” The nurse tried joking, pushing me forward the rest of the way. “We had to find another way to warm you up from the inside out.”

I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I could feel how he peeled back dressing after dressing, poking at points in my back that made me want to poke him back harder. Maybe punch. Dad watched for only a moment before turning away, twinging like he was going to vomit. “Stitches back there look good too. You’re lucky whatever stabbed you didn’t go too deep. The one on the side’s my biggest concern, but even that’s manageable so long as you keep it clean.”

I forgot Dr. Sims was in the room until he spoke up from the corner by the in-room sink. “Do you know what stabbed you?”

I looked over, managing to blush a bit. In the chaos of the past couple hours, I hadn’t even really processed that Doctor Eugene Sims was helping take care of me! It made me feel special…and all the more needy. He had bigger things to worry about than to take care of some kid. “There were these—” I cut off, a shiver wracking down my spine. The Archangel soldiers. God, how did they know? Was it just bad luck that they managed to freeze me? “Archangel, they — there were people with ice powers and they hit me with icicles.” I turned to Dad. “Dad, Archangel — they were trying to capture you, they wanted something—”

Dad hushed me, hand going back to run across my forehead and brush hair out of the way. “Don’t worry about it right now, Jean, okay?”

The doctor eventually returned with someone from radiology and a handheld portable x-ray camera, one of the cooler new things from this generation. All they had to do was slip a lead apron on my lap and a weird plate under my arm, and the doctor was able to look at the result on the computer cart that came in with them almost immediately. “It’s definitely still broken.” She announced, like it wasn’t painfully — and I mean painfully — obvious. She spun the computer around to show me the x-ray, and I didn’t need a degree to tell it was fucked. “Oblique fracture of the ulnar shaft.”

Dad sighed hard. “And there’s no improvement?”

The doctor shook her head. “None. We’ve waited long enough — we need to put it in a cast.”

Brent reminded everyone he was here by piping up from his spot on the windowsill bed, “She can’t have a cast — plaster can’t get wet. All she does is get wet.”

“Well, then, she may need to simply not use her powers—” the doctor began, but Dad cut her off.

“She needs to have the ability to use her powers.” He stated with a finality that said this wasn’t up for debate. “She’ll be unable to protect herself otherwise.”

“I might be able to do something about that, Del,” Dr. Sims chimed in from his place against the countertop. He pushed off, walking to stand beside Dad. “I can take measurements of her arm and print her off a plastic cast.”

Dad looked up at his friend, face entirely unreadable. They seemed to have a silent conversation for ten seconds that made the doctor impatient enough to interrupt, clearing her throat. “I need to stabilize her arm, the sooner the better. Do we have an agreement, Mr. Rowe?”

It was the first time I’d heard Dad referred to as Rowe outside of, like, my history class or Augustine. He didn’t even really flinch at the name. “Yeah,” he finally said, looking away from Dr. Sims to my arm. “Alright. Fine.”

The next part was both awesome and absolutely fucking sucked. ‘Measurements’ apparently didn’t mean tape measure or something similar, not at all; Dr. Sims needed a perfect replica of my arm to make a cast, which meant he had to actually make a mold of it using his powers. The splint was already off by then, but I had to lift and hold my arm out for Dr. Sims to mold, which was arguably the coolest and worst ten seconds of my life.

Dr. Sims’ video power seemed to burn brighter than Dad’s, lacking the firm pixels and instead taking on more of a holographic look as their shine slipped away from his arms to my outstretched one, encasing it. The power didn’t care about how hard I was shaking, it didn’t care about the fact that my arm kept jerking around with every hard exhale; it stayed in contact with my skin, melting over it until the entirety of my body, elbow to fingertip, was encased in a new type of blue. Dr. Sims pulled a hand back, and the casing around mine went with it, peeling away from me like a shedding skin on a lizard — and turning into skin, too. The more the blue pulled away, the denser it became in color until it matched the hue of my skin, the black of the bruise and the chips in my cuticles, fully becoming my arm.

Dad caught my arm the moment the shine on it was gone, helping guide it back down to the plate so that the doctor could take another x-ray and make sure nothing displaced in my holding it out. I blinked back my tears and stared at the perfect model of my arm that Dr. Sims kept at arm's length — pun fully intended. “How did you—” I started, unable to finish when the doctor readjusted my arm and sent a whole new volley of pain up it.

“Hard light hologram,” Dr. Sims explained. He rotated the model of my arm in the air and made it shadow the wave he gave me, smiling.

“With a cast, your arm should be fully healed in six weeks, give or take.” the doctor said, looking at the new picture and nodding to herself, satisfied. “You’ll have to follow up with a specialist to make sure you’re on the right track to healing.”

Yeah — the normal track to healing.

Sims disappeared with the doctor on promises they both would be back soon, leaving me with Dad, Brent, and the splint still trapped on my arm. Dad must’ve noticed how distant I was, how I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from the grain of the tile as he asked, “You okay, Jeanie?”

I inhaled shakily, trying my hardest not to let Dad know just how scared I was. “I don’t…” I cut off, swallowing hard. “Why won’t I heal?”

I looked up in time to see Dad’s eyes gain that faraway look that only came around with his fear of loss, and he whispered the truth I wished was a lie. “I don’t know.”

The doctor gently spun my arm around, asking, “Make a fist for me,”

I don’t know how she expected me to with the cast almost encasing my entire thumb, but I tried nonetheless, tensing my fingers against the edge of the brace. “Does it hurt?”

“A little,” I admitted, “But not, like, any worse than when I’m not.”

The cast looked like netting on my arm, gaps giving a peek to my bruised and battered skin underneath. The hard plastic was smooth and light purple, and the moment the doctor snapped it into place, it lifted so much pain from my arm that I gasped in relief.

The doctor nodded, satisfied. “Then you’re all good! I want you in a sling for now, to take stress off of it. We’ll watch the other injuries and, I don’t know, you may be out of here in two, three days tops.”

“Even after freezing?” I asked as Dad helped fit the sling around my neck. Wasn’t there still big concerns about organ failure and stuff?

Dr. Sims was the one to answer. “When we found you, you were in some sort of suspension the Sound made to protect you. Honestly, I believe it’s what kept you from getting worse.”

My water saved me?

The other doctor didn’t give me the chance to ask any other questions, looking at her watch and saying, “I know it’s late, but she’s also clear to eat, if she wants. I’ll stop the saline drip, order her some pain medicine and something antiemetic.”

“She could even sit in the tub for a while,” Dr. Sims added, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at a door adjacent from me. That must be the bathroom. “Probably make her feel better Conduit-wise.”

Dad nodded as he leaned back, my arm now fully supported in a sling and nestled gently against my chest. “Yeah, alright. Thank you, really,”

The one doctor left, her jokey nurse close behind. Dr. Sims hovered around for a moment longer to clap Dad on the shoulder and say, “I’ll be back later,” with a knowing air that implied they had a plan. Dad just gave him a nod and he, too, was gone.

Dad’s exhale was long, like he was trying his hardest to not freak the fuck out. His hands ran through his hair, and it took a moment for him to look back up — but when he did, it was to smile gently at me. “You’re feeling better?” He asked.

“Yeah,” I nodded. I didn’t have the heart to list off how sore I was, how the itch in my neck was somehow becoming agonizing because I couldn’t touch it and the slice in my side throbbed if I breathed in too hard. “I’m doing okay.”

Dad squeezed my thigh gently. “Good. Are you hungry at all? It’s been a while since you’ve eaten,”

I nodded. Now that the nausea of my pain was subsiding, I was starving. Dad turned his eyes to Brent. “You want anything?”

“I’ll always say yes to food,” Brent joked.

Dad stood. “The cafeteria’s closed, but I know they’ve got some sort of fridge thing with sandwiches and salads and stuff. I’ll look in there and see if I can find something good. I’ll be right back, okay?”

He made sure to lean down and kiss the top of my head with that, a continuation on his promise that he wouldn’t stray far.

The moment the room door closed somewhere beyond the curtain, Brent hummed, “I think you’re the favorite, now,”

“Shut up,” I rolled my eyes. “Do you not remember how he catered to you when you broke your own arm and had surgery? You got a signed jersey out of it.”

“Oh, I milked the pain for that,” Brent laughed. He eyed the cast on my arm and the dark bruising under it, and something flashed over his features. Guilt?

“Hey,” I called gently. His eyes came back up to meet mine, and I said, “This isn’t your fault.”

“You had to save me.” He hissed. “I shouldn’t have—“

“Neither of us shouldn’t have had to.” I cut him off. There was no way he was going to make this his fault. “You’re my brother, Brent, I’m not just gonna let you die. Besides, if anyone gets to kill you, I do—”

“Oh fuck off,” he scoffed, shaking his head. It caught him off guard enough to get him to laugh, though, and that’s all that mattered to me.

He leaned back, tucking his legs under himself, and something on his chest glinted in the fluorescent lights of the room. “Hey,” I chuckled slightly, “You got my gift!”

I’d gone back to the storage room at the Longhouse for my charger — I’d left it behind after my phone took a swim, and had forgotten about it for a while. While there, though, I’d found the bullet casing that pushed out of his shoulder that night everything changed hidden behind the leg of the couch. It still had his blood on it.

The way it had impacted his shoulder shaped it into an exploding flower of sorts, and brass…well, it’s not stronger than water. I shaved down the backing with a blast that would have peeled skin off, and dulled the edges before carving a geometric design of the Conduit emblem into it that I knew he’d like. He loved symmetrical stuff like that.

One more thin blast to make holes for a leather cord to fit through, and his offhanded joke about wearing the bullet on a necklace was a possibility now. The back had 3 words carved in, so small he may have needed a magnifying glass to read them properly; Nerves of Steel.

It was cheesy, but I loved to give handmade gifts — and this time, I could make something more refined. He seemed to like it at least, if him wearing it was any hint.

Brent’s hand went up to play with the dark leather cord it was on, something Betty supplied me with when I asked. “Yeah. I…when we were waiting to see what’d happen to you, I opened…hope you don’t mind,” he finished lamely.

I shook my head. “Nah. Guess that means I ruined Christmas, though,”

“Kinda, yeah,” he laughed, hand falling.

I shrugged. “That’s okay — isn’t Boxing Day supposed to be some big second day of Christmas over in Europe? We can try again tomorrow.”

He didn’t laugh. Brent’s eyebrows creased and he leaned forward a bit, elbows on his knees. “Jean, what…what day do you think it is?”

What kind of a question was that? “Christmas?” Something in his face changed and I said, “Well, maybe late in the night. Unless…it’s already the 26th?”

Brent’s face softened a bit, but not in a good way. He looked how Dad did right before he told us S’mores was gone. “It’s — Jean, it’s New Years Eve. We didn’t even find you till the 28th.”

As if to punctuate his point, there was a whistle outside followed with a BANG that made me nearly jump out of my skin. My mind flashed back, and suddenly I was watching a huge slab of concrete slam into a lighthouse again.

I’ve been out of it for a week?

Brent opened up the paneling of the window more in time to see the golden remains of a firework dim away, two more following before the rogues illegally setting them off paused. I could barely, just barely, spot the light of the Space Needle just over the rooftops, strobing away like today was supposed to be celebratory. Like I was supposed to be okay with being out of it for 8 days.

The clock was at 9:37. Two and a half hours until 2037. And the last week…I don’t know, did I die?

I looked at Brent when he moved to sit, and another memory burst up from the fog; Mom. She looked at me just like that, with that same fucking expression, and I thought…God, I thought it was real. Was it real? The way her fingers brushed my hair, the kiss on my head…

I didn’t want it to be fake. Some sort of illusion.

“You okay?” Brent chimed in from the side. I’d been staring at him the entire time, and I’m sure the weird look of mourning on my face was unsettling. He definitely looked uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” I lied, breathing deeply. “Just…thinking. What happened? Y’know…after?”

Brent’s leg started going again. “If she just…ten more seconds, and Dad would have been there. Dr. Sims — holy shit Jean, you should have seen it! You remember that old MMORPG T—” He cut off and swallowed, like the name was hard to vomit up. “—Tommy liked?”

I nodded despite not knowing what he was talking about. Didn’t wanna rain on his parade.

“There were characters from that game there! How he made a solid copy of your arm? He did that with, like, fifteen demon characters. And Dr. Sims was this—” he held his arm up like it’d equate the size, “—this thirty foot tall knight with wings. Swear I could see the health bar on that fucker,”

I tried my best to pretend to laugh. So we were that close to being safe? “What happened to Augustine? Those Archangel soldiers?”

Brent shook his head lightly. “I don’t know. Dad made me go to the Longhouse to guard everyone and by the time we started your search party…everything was gone.”

“Did anyone else die?”

I didn’t like how he chewed on his cheek, but nonetheless he said, “They didn’t kill anyone else. Just the one guy.”

There was a knock on the door, and that cheerful dude nurse was back with a handful of vials and syringes, making a joke about how he got me the good stuff.

He dosed me up and was gone again, leaving us in an awkward still moment where it felt like so much more needed to be touched up on — but I didn’t want to worry about anything else right now. I just wanted to pretend, for fifteen minutes, that things were normal.

Brent shot me a weird look when I began to scoot to the side, asking, “Where’re you going?” and sighing in annoyance when I didn’t answer. I didn’t plan on going far — just to one side of the bed — and once the elbow of my fucked arm was nestled comfortably against the guardrail of the hospital bed, I looked at him expectantly. “What?”

“C’mere,” I requested, voice a bit soft.

I expected Brent to shrug me off and call me a baby or some other weak insult. Instead, he grabbed the hospital pillow that was nestled in his little perch, laid it vertically in the free space, and fit himself beside me, not saying a thing when I laid my head on his shoulder.

At least, for a moment. Then he whispered, “I thought you died.” and leaned his head against mine.

“To be fair,” I muttered back, playing with the tape that held my PICC line in place. “I thought I did, too.”

“Yeah. Let’s not do that again,”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice—”

“Well, now you can’t die before me. It’s my turn next time.”

“We’ll suicide pact it. Kill each other off on our eightieth birthday.”

“You really think I’m gonna make it that far?”

“If you keep diving out of the sky like you were? No,” I chuckled.

The door opened again without a knock this time, and I could hear Dad make some sort of noise as he fought the door open. He pushed through the curtain and went straight to the small counter beside the sink, dropping off food in plastic prepackaging and spinning in place. His eyes softened a bit when he saw how we were. “You okay?” he asked me pointedly.

“Yeah,” I assured him. Brent lifted his head, and I was free to straighten mine. “They just dosed me up and I am feeling whatever fucking pain medicine they gave me.”

Dad chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Don’t curse,”

“I feel like I get a free pass,”

He held out a bottle of juice for me to take. “And you just used it up, so, good job.”

“Shoulda thought that one through,” Brent muttered.

It was unnecessarily hard to hold a goddamn fork. I couldn’t bend my pinky how I wanted to, and my thumb was trapped in a little sleeve and couldn’t move at all. I ended up having to take uncoordinated stabs at my buffalo chicken salad with my left hand.

“So,” Brent said, “Guess we can’t do a bonfire tonight, huh?”

Dad chuckled. “Not in a hospital, no. No s’mores, either, but I did get you guys cookies.”

Man, the bonfire and s’mores was my favorite part about New Years Eve. We’d invite so many people over and have a huge pit going in the middle of our yard at Chapman, and we’d all eventually succumb to the need to perform arson as the night went on. I burned Daniella’s jacket in it after our break-up, Brent and Tommy got ahold of a football with the 49ers logo on it and spiked it into the flames once.

Those moments left so much pain in my chest now that I knew they’d never be replicated.

Dad instead somehow found a Disney cartoon movie marathon, dropping straight into a showing of Encanto just before the big musical number. “Oh, God, Dad, you’re gonna make us watch this?” Brent groaned.

“You know how much you two made me watch this when you were toddlers?” Dad scoffed. “It got to a point where I could quote the movie word-for-word. This is payback.”

Revenge followed swiftly after, with his enthusiastic sing-along performance to We Don’t Talk About Bruno.

There was some point during the third Encanto movie that I realized Brent was on his phone, in the messages app of discord and finger hovering over the ‘send’ button. A simple “Hey” aimed for Mei’s inbox, staying wistfully in the text box. Dad had disappeared to the bathroom, and in the stillness of it being just us, I reached over, brushed his thumb aside, and pressed send.

“Jean!” Brent hissed.

“I won’t tell Dad if you won’t,” I smiled gently, knocking my shoulder into his.

He kept my gaze a moment longer before a half-smile broke out on his face, and he shook his head. “You’re ridiculous,”

“Just make sure your phone’s on silent.”

Dad fell asleep first, looking uncomfortable as could be in the chair he was propped up in. “Should we, like, move him?” I asked Brent.

“I don’t want to,” Brent sighed. “He hasn’t slept at all since you…” he reset the thought, continuing with, “I think this is the first time he’s closed his eyes in a week.”

I couldn’t imagine the fear he must’ve felt; his daughter disappeared, and apparently, it took days to find me, if what Brent said earlier was true. If I was revived the same day, then it’s been three days. It took me three days to actually wake, to be able to hold a good conversation, and…

If it were Brent or Dad in my place, I know I wouldn’t have slept, either.

Brent moved back to the window at some point, and while I couldn’t see what he was doing, how concentrated he was on his feverish typing gave me a hint that it had something to do with Mei. He was smiling to himself and was probably seconds away from giggling like a schoolgirl. He hadn’t even noticed midnight passed until a firework let off close to the hospital, the sound making him jump and spin in place, hair shifting silver.

“You okay?” I asked when he turned back around.

Brent blinked hard before nodding. “Yeah, I, uh…”

He didn’t have to say it — I felt that same fear a bit ago, had the same flashback. “Thought it was an attack?”

He huffed. “You too?”

I chewed at my lip, watching the silver on his hair relinquish its hold as quickly as it came. “Wonder if it’ll ever go away,”

“Yeah,” Brent sighed. But then he tried to smile, and wished me a happy new year.

#Longest Erosion chapter is now here! :3 #infamous second son #infamous erosion #fanfiction #Delsin Rowe #and FINALLY #Eugene Sims #He's such a blank slate I can't wait to play with him lol #Sucker Punch Productions #fanfic

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silberwalkure-blog · 2 years

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A call that literally screams "play with my mind"

What brings this to mind was earlier this evening when I took DH to the gym (I'm the only driver in the family) when this moron calls to try and sell me "vacation shares" in Central Florida (some people really *cue eye roll*)

I had one of those scam calls that Friday morning buddy will never forget. I was on my way to an appointment with the older son’s school when the phone rang. My call block on my cell I sn’t working. This call went on for just over 30 mins. Sitting next to me in the next car was the police.

Me: “Hallo”

Scammer: “I would like to talk to you about your overdue bill with the IRS”

M: “Really?”

S: “yes, our records show that you’ve been delinquent with your taxes for the last 10 years.”

M: “Oh. Okay. If you say so Chief.”

S: “Yes, you could face jail time, but there is a way to avoid this by”

*I interrupt him mid-sentence*

M: “I require a blòt.”

S: “Um….what’s a blòt?”

M: “A blood sacrifice.”

S: “A bloo…what?!”

M: “You see, I’ve been a very bad girl and my God is furious with me, so I figured maybe if I appease his daughter, he would forgive me.”

S: “Going through the kid to get to Dad. Nice schtick… wait?”

M: “Yes?”

S: “Who’s his daughter?”

M: “who?”

S: “The daughter.”

M: “Hela.”

S: “Hela. Who’s she and why is she so important that she can talk to her Dad.”

M: “Hela’s the Goddess of Death and the Underworld.”

*By now, buddy is shitting himself*

S: “Lady, you can’t be serious!”

After several seconds laughing at this turd, I told him*

M: “Man, if anything I’ve appeased my God, by protecting the most vulnerable.”

S: “you have?”

M: “Yeah, by keeping an as$hat like you from attacking/verbally abusing some elderly person from having their life savings ripped from their hands for over half an hour. Oh and good luck trying to come up with some other line of bs for the next time you call. Have a blessed day.” *then hung up*

The cops just sat their nearly pissing themselves laughing, apparently I made their day too.

#scammer #phone call #I roll that way

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savefilescomng12 · 4 months

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Brittany Cartwright blasts haters questioning her son's well-being amid Jax Taylor split

Brittany Cartwright slammed fans who dared to comment about her 3-year-old son Cruz’s “well-being” amid her separation from Jax Taylor. “You guys can reel in the drama of my life I don’t care but leave my innocents sons name out of it!!! Don’t act like you know anything about him watching 30 mins of a show recorded last summer,” she wrote in a pointed Instagram Story message Tuesday. “I do everything I possibly can for him so how dare some of you!?” the “Valley” star continued. “ENOUGH he is a perfect and innocent child and I will not have strangers acting like they know what’s going on in his life. “Talk about me talk about his father I don’t care but enough is enough!!!!!!” “You guys can reel in the drama of my life I don’t care but leave my innocents sons name out of it!!!” she posted on her Instagram Story Tuesday. brittany/Instagram “I do everything I possibly can for him so how dare some of you!?” she went on. brittany/Instagram The “Vanderpump Rules” alum added, “ENOUGH he is a perfect and innocent child and I will not have strangers acting like they know what’s going on in his life.” brittany/Instagram Cartwright, 35, did not reveal the comments she was referencing, but a source told People she is “hurt” by remarks about her son’s “well-being.” “She is highly protective over her son as any caring mother would be. Despite what she is going through personally in her marriage, her and Jax have always and continue to put their son first,” the insider explained. “He remains their number one priority and they have done a great job co-parenting during this rather turbulent time.” The source added, “They are both incredibly attentive and loving parents and give Cruz absolutely everything he needs. He is a happy child and that’s all that really matters.” Cartwright did not reveal what comments she was referring to, but a source told People her anger stemmed from jabs about her son’s “well-being” amid her split from Jax Taylor. brittany/Instagram “She is highly protective over her son as any caring mother would be,” the insider said. Getty Images for Haddad Media “Despite what she is going through personally in her marriage, her and Jax have always and continue to put their son first,” they added. Getty Images Reps for Cartwright did not immediately respond to Page Six’s request for comment. The Bravolebrity welcomed Cruz with her estranged husband in April 2021. The exes announced their separation in February on their podcast, “When Reality Hits with Jax and Brittany.” “I’m taking things one day at a time,” Cartwright said at the time. “I don’t know what the future holds, but right now my focus is on being the best mom to Cruz.” Cartwright and Taylor welcomed their son in 2021. GARRETT PRESS / MEGA They announced their separation in February after nearly five years of marriage. GARRETT PRESS / MEGA Cartwright gave more insight into the their split in March, telling TMZ, “I’ve asked him for a while to do certain things and nothing has come from that. “Whenever you fight with somebody for so long, there’s only so much you can take, and you know, I deserve better, Cruz deserves better.” The following month, she tripled down on her stance that she had to take time away from “hard to deal with” Taylor, 44, for the sake of their son. “I think it’s honestly been better because we aren’t fighting in front of ,” she told People. “And for me, I think that’s what is most important right now. Because that’s why I had to get him out of that situation in the first place.” Cartwright has remained adamant that their separation was best for her and Cruz. brittany/Instagram “Whenever you fight with somebody for so long, there’s only so much you can take, and you know, I deserve better, Cruz deserves better,” she told TMZ in March. brittany/Instagram “I think it’s honestly been better because we aren’t fighting in front of ,” she further explained in April. brittany/Instagram The “Vanderpump Rules” alums are seemingly getting along since they attended the White House Correspondents’ Garden Brunch in Washington, D.C. together in April. They also celebrated their son’s birthday that same month. Although that same month, Taylor claimed he was “working” on himself to win Cartwright back, he stepped out with model Paige Woolen last week for a three-hour lunch date. Source link Read the full article

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returntosaturn271995 · 2 years

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March 3rd: Five Day Return

My wellness app celebrated me today. A sentence both sad and a brag at the same time. There should be a word for when you do one chore and congratulate yourself for 6 months. But my cynicism has gotten me nowhere, and my suspicion, even when correct, has never actually protected me.

Anyways, the app wanted me (and my metadata) to know that I had successfully completed all my daily goals and tasks for five days in a row.

They Are:

Drink Water + Take meds first thing

Long walk in the sunshine to the beach

Yoga

Linkedin apps/email management

Cleaning something in the house + Making the bed

Moisturizing + Brushing Teeth + Lipmask + Sunscreen + Collagen

No drinking on weekdays

Reading + annotating

Writing

Journaling (hello, there)

Send love to someone you care about

Stay politically up to date

Writing a to-do and top 3

Deep work hitting those priorities ( about 30 min)

Drinking tea before bed

Meditating + Making a gratitude list

Planning/wearing a chic outfit

For five days I have committed to being that wellness girl. I wanted it to be real. Authentic even if the persona is crafted. To have healthy identity goals, to be the kind of person who if nothing else: actually did all of the things for her mind, body, and home that have been proven to work. This week, it was me doing yoga on a hill, vacuuming, stretching, and writing.

In therapy yesterday I teared up, it was near the end so there wasn’t time to sew it all up perfectly (not that that ever actually happens in therapy or in life). But I felt something cynical shift from where I’ve been protecting myself from embarrassment and potential failure. It exposed something raw and desperate, something so full of fear and hope at the same time.

“I really want to believe that I am capable of change.”

I still woke up late today, with dreams of yesterday, lurid and nostalgic. But I made a bagel with cream cheese and updated the whiteboard to “Here’s to the freakin weekend!!” and added some stars. I went on a long walk after making my bed and blow drying my hair and slapping on my Chanel necklace. I did my yoga and applied to jobs and called mom and planned New York and texted friends and dates. I shaved and put on perfume and I smiled at strangers and listened to moody indie music. I snapped photos of shoes hanging from a telephone wire and the lifeguard stand at the beach. I read another chapter in my book (Imposter Syndrome by Kathy Wang) and organized my bedside table.

All small, unremarkable steps. Inches, really. But hey, it’s forward.

Anyways the app says on day five (I’ve made it to day five many times, and then had to restart because I am oh-so-human), you’re supposed to reflect on why you started in the first place. Why you downloaded the app and want to buy new running shoes in the first. What’s the purpose of all this self-improvement?

Why am I trying even when it’s all so unremarkable?

Because it’s proof, actionable steps, that show I’m changing. Rewiring.

I want to believe it so badly that I’m willing to forgo cynicism, my shield for as long as I can remember. Make myself vulnerable to failure. See how it feels to try with no promise of success.

To stop lying and people pleasing. To just get up and love myself.

I was happy today. Proud of myself. And I’m looking forward to the 6th.

I’m looking forward to tomorrow when I used to wish I wouldn’t wake up in the morning.

I refuse to be cynical about that.

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ayyeeitsmorgs · 2 years

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The more I deep Thor Love and Thunder…the more upset I get. So I’m giving my gripes and thoughts. I’ve seen L&T twice now and this second time actually made me upset because it’s good but I can see the potential this film has to be better. Spoilers below…

The first issue.

I’m tired of Thor trying to find himself ….enough is enough, it’s been 6 films please I’m tired. Let’s have a conversation and story about Thor accepting his role as King bc he honestly said f it, Val you take it with her having no prior qualifications (I know she “ran” New Asgard during Infinity War/Endgame but that happened off screen soooooo where’s the proof). Thor more or less abandoned the people who he was trying to protect in the previous films. He ended Ragnarok becoming King and accepting that even though he didn’t really want to be king (rather didn’t like the way the monarchy was previously ran). We had a whole movie about Thor becoming and accepting the King role for him to not be King…alright Marvel. Also while I love Thor becoming a dad at the end of it, the abrupt-ness of it just doesn’t sit right. How is Jane going to tell Gorr and say Love will be looked after knowing she’s dying without even discussing that with Thor…now Thor is a single unprepared father, who not even 30 mins ago was having a midlife crisis about not being able to find himself. Lastly, you can’t tell me that from Endgame, everyone else (of the OG3) gets a happy-ish ending where they get to “settle down with their partner and family” and all Thor gets is a dead ex gf and a adopted child that he necessarily didn’t want….pleaseeeeee make it make sense.

Second complaint.

The romance element of the film should have been like Netflix’s Someone Great in a sense where the “former couple” is cool with not being back together. Where they loved each other and now it’s time to move on…and *cough cough* looks at Marvel, it’s okay for couples to break up and move on. Because no 1. Jane and Thor do not have the chemistry that screams couple…it screams coworkers. And no 2. Thor spent the precious film flirting with Val. Yes I’m a thorkyrie/thorval shipper but based on the interviews, the deleted scenes, Chris and Tessa’s chemistry in Ragnarok, and Tessa’s acting skills in general, you can’t convince me they wouldn’t be a good couple and that their “romance” wouldn’t be more compelling juxtaposed with Thor wanting to help his “first love” who is sick bringing up old relationship wounds. They also just suit each other, like very complimentary in the same way as T’Challa and Nakia maybe (idk most of the original MCU couples from phase 1 & 2 are not good together at all…just my opinion). Also don’t give me any bs about her being bi, she can still be bi, date women, be with women, and still end up with Thor. Like come on LGBTQ+ representation is more than just gay and lesbian couples. What would have been more compelling was Thor has this ex gf, Jane, who comes back into his life who he didn’t really have closure with who is also dying from cancer who helps him see that he truly is not lost because while he has lost he has also found in the group of people he met in Ragnarok and a connection with Valkyrie.

Third grievance.

JUSTICE FOE GORR. We should have seen this man causing absolute carnage. How is it this man named the God Butcher but we don’t see butcher not one God? This movie also had the potential to clear up some confusion about the tier levels of Gods. Bc Thor is a Norse god but also not a god but an Asguardian alien. The Eternals are the base for the Greek gods but then the Eternals aren’t real. Then the Egyptian gods are actual gods that use humans as avatars. Like let’s unpack that a little bit. Maybe Gorr going on a quest to kill all the gods full serial killer vibes presented like a True Detective or 48 Hours-type thing and Thor and co find out about these different levels of Gods through their murders or takes some time to give exposition about the gods helping clear up and connect the “Cosmic” sector of the MCU phase 4.

Sn:Also what happened to the piece about if a God loses their followers they perish? Am I making that up or no?

Idk. I’m just talking randomly and needed to get that off my chest.

And I didn’t hate the film by any means, it just could have been better. It was a group project where everyone didn’t pull their weight and ultimately turned in an okay project that actually had a lot of potential. The plot was missing character development and the character development was missing plot. What we got was good but there was no purpose for anything cohesively. The film just had a lot going on to and when trying to fit everything in it lost some of its direction. This movie told the right story the wrong way.

#thor #thor love and thunder #thor ragnarok #thorkyrie #mighty thor #jane foster #valkyrie #marvel #marvel mcu #thorval

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wannabemobwife · 3 years

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Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas- Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Dressed to the Nines

Dad!Mob!Tom Holland x Mom!Mob!Reader Fanfic

-Pairings: mob! Tom Holland x reader

-Warnings: Language

-Words: 3.9K

Background Info- Tom Holland is boss of his mafia and Y/N Holland, his wife, is former mafia boss turned stay at home mom but still joined Tom on his business trips and meetings. They started dating at 19 and were married at the young age of 21, realizing they only needed each other. They have two kids together, both ages 16, Parker and Rosie Holland.

*Realistically to have two teenagers, Tom and Y/N are both in their mid/late thirties but they look like they are in their mid twenties/late twenties alright. What can I say, they have really good genes. I can guarantee that Tom will still definitely look as gorgeous as he does know in his 30’s.

Author note: I enjoy writing drama, so it’s hard to have constant fluff, mostly angst (I hope, at least what I consider angst). The more times where a character almost dies but doesn’t the better to me. This is my first fanfic, I wrote this story based on being married with kids because that is the part of my life I’m most looking forward to. Heads up but there is tons of dialogue, I find that the most fun to write.

Also I enjoy PDA and a personal goal of mine is to be married for 20 years and still want to jump my husband’s bones so there are a bunch of little hints like that through the fanfic. Sorry if your name is any of the characters, feel free to change them in your mind. I know it’s stupid of me to say that but whatever.

Chapter 1: Dressed to the Nines

Words: 3.9K

You and Tom were a power couple. The Hollands, the ones with the most power and the most dangerous. A king and queen to their empire. Lately you had been tackling married life together and had been raising two kids. A boy named Parker and a girl named Rosie both the same age. But nothing could prepare you for what every parent dreads, their teenage years. All the hormones, mood swings and relationship drama that comes with it.

When both the twins turned 16 it was big turning point in your family. Rights of passage as Tom would say. You and Tom threw a massive gala to celebrate their 16 years of being alive. Tom as the leader of his own mob, money was no object and you coming from the family you did and being a former mafia boss, you both had truly opulent wealth. It was the night of their kids’ sixteenth birthday and everyone was invited from family, friends, business associates and even enemies. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer they would say. Tom and tried to keep as much as possible from your kids, trying to give them a normal childhood. Failing over and over again at that. Some nights Tom would come home bloody from beating up someone who crossed him. Or there would always been strange, bulky, built men surrounding your mansion for protection. It was hard to explain everything to the kids, but it was something they just had to do for family.

The party was about to begin, 7:00 on the dot, and the house was decorated to fit a very elegant yet youthful look. Caterers dressed in white carrying bountiful trays of appetizers. Tom and you adored the luxury of their life, even though they knew if they didn’t have all the materials they did they would be even happier. Their family is what mattered most to them. You were dressed to the nines, in a lace gold gown, with sparkly stilettos on. Her Y/H/C hair gracefully laying one her back, without a strand out of the place. And her Y/E/C eyes were beaming, if looks could kill they would. Tom couldn’t help but admire you.

“You know, it’s rude to gawk,” you said and Tom chuckled.

“I’m sorry but you’re just too beautiful not to,” he responded and placing his hands on your hips.

Rolling your eyes and smirking you said “tonight’s the night.”

“I know, should we do it now?” he questioned as his half smile turned into a frown.

“No, let him have this one more night. Without any obligation,” you had been dreading this night for years.

“Alright, darling,” he said as he kissed softly, he just couldn’t contain himself he

found his other half. The person that makes him want to be a better man. His soulmate.

Like any family there are skeletons in their closets but, the Hollands were a whole another story. Tonight was the night, one they had been dreading for 16 years, to be exact. You and Tom’s son, Parker would be tasked with the most difficult decision of his life. One that will rewrite his story. Tom wishes he would just turn it down and do what he didn’t have the balls to do when he was his age.

The day Tom’s dad brought him into the office, he knew his life would never be the same. Dom, his father and former boss of the Holland empire, made it very clear that if he turned him down, he could forget about being in this family. Tom just knows he won’t give the same ultimatum. Parker being the oldest and only son of Tom and Y/N Holland is the future of their family empire. Parker was quite popular, a playboy actually and very dashing. Wearing a black suit with a black tie and a white shirt he look just like his dad with his brown hair slicked back. Being one of the guests of honor tonight he had to look the part. Slowly made his way to the bar before his mother could find him. Desperately needing some liquid courage, he quickly poured himself a shot of vodka and downed it even faster. However nothing gets past, you, Y/N Holland.

“Parker Jackson Holland!” you fumed, catching her 16 year old son drinking.

“Hey, what’s with the middle naming me, it’s my birthday,” he responded a little startled.

“You should not be drinking, ever. You got two years, mister,” you explained.

“Alright, mum,” Parker sounded annoyed.

“Where’s your sister by the way, party is supposed to start in 10 mins,” you said as she noticed all the guest starting to arrive. A line of people already waiting at the door but everyone knew the Hollands preferred people to arrive fashionably late.

“I don’t know. Having a fit probably. Last I heard was screaming coming from her closet.”

“I’ll go check on her. Your father and I need you sober later. Understood?” You exclaimed.

“Yes, mum.” Parker was a good boy on paper but, enjoyed breaking the rules.

Right as you turned away, Parker then started to pour another shot.

“Don’t even think about it,” you said still walking forward. Parker chuckled and set the shot down.

You went to go check on her daughter. You knocked on the door when she heard something shatter. Rosie may seem timid but she definitely inherited Tom’s anger issues.

“Honey? Is everything alright?” You questioned, startled by the outburst.

“Yeah, mum. I’m sorry,” Rosie muttered seeming frustrated.

“It’s ok, oh honey!” You exclaimed, noticing the tears on her daughter face

“I know, this is stupid,” Rosie whispered trying to hide her tear stained face.

“No, no it isn’t. What’s wrong?” you said, genuinely concerned for her daughter’s well-being.

“I don’t know everything, this dress, my hair, my makeup,” she exclaimed frantically.

“Baby, you look beautiful.”

“Pretty enough that someone would want to dance with me?” Rosie whispered. You were caught off guard that your daughter could ever have thoughts like that.

“Yes of course, you are always gorgeous.” You hated seeing your baby girl beat herself up based on her looks.

“Thanks mom, I have a question?” You just nodded in response.

How did you get dad to fall in love with you?” Rosie asked inquisitively.

“Um, I guess was just myself. I didn’t put on a facade and I was very honest and transparent with him,” you answered a little taken back from the question.

“You were yourself? I find that hard to believe. From stories I’ve heard you seemed to be bold, brave and beguiling” said Rosie with a hint of sarcasm.

“Am I not those things now?” You asked, cheekily.

“No you are, just in a different way.”

“Honey, whoever you are trying impress, will love for who you are, ok?” You couldn’t stand seeing her daughter like this.

“Alright. Can you help me with my makeup?” Rosie asked because her previous makeup had been ruined by her miniature breakdown

“Yes, of course.”

Back at the party Tom was making his way around saying hello to almost everyone. He desperately needed to find his son. Tom’s and Parker’s relationship was interesting to say the least. As babies and toddlers Tom was there. He loved his kids so much but as they grew older they only noticed the times he wasn’t there. Only the missed recitals and football games, never all times that had dinner as a family and he tucked them in to bed at night. Parker is closer to his mother and his twin sister. Never really having that man to man talk with his dad yet. The time when fathers stop seeing their sons as boys and look at them as men. Tom approached Parker sitting there with his a drink in his hand, he hoped was a watered down Pepsi.

“Hey Parker, did your mom talk to you already?” Tom asked, not trying to raise too many questions.

“No, she might have mentioned something,” Parker responded.

“Ok, well after cake meet me in my office.” Parker nodded in response and noticed how he tensed a little at the conversation.

Their chat quickly ended when Harrison and his 16 year old son Henry came to wish happy birthday. Harrison is Tom’s right hand man, his consigliere and his best friend. He was more than that, Harrison was family. Harrison’s son, Henry was best friends with Parker and Rosie, ever since birth.

“Hey mate,” Tom said to his best friend Harrison.

“Hey, just came to wish this guy “happy birthday”” he said patting Parker’s shoulder.

“Happy birthday, dude” Henry said to Parker and he returned with subtle “thank you’s.” Parker slightly nodded to his dad to see if he could leave the conversation and Tom let him know it was ok.

“Come on, let’s go,” Parker exclaimed making his way to den where his other friends were.

Harrison was the first to speak up, “Have you told him yet?”

“No, Y/N and I are going to do it tonight” Tom uttered with a low toned voice.

“Geez, do you need me there?” Harrison asked, afraid Tom might say yes. Harrison was there when Tom went through the same process with his dad. Tom’s anger issues didn’t help the outcome.

“I think I’m alright, just family. Not that I don’t consider you family but I don’t even know if Rosie should be there.” Tom justified.

“It’s alright mate, I get it.”

They were both enjoying their night, making their rounds, Tom and Harrison went to get drinks, not beer this time but a scotch on the rocks as this was a classy night. Everything was dandy up until one of Tom’s men, William, came up to him informing Tom of a problem.

“Sir we have a problem,” William whispered to Tom, Tom nodded for them to follow them to his office.

“William, what now? Can’t you see I’m enjoying the party?” Tom exclaimed, closing the doors to his office.

“Sir, Daniel, was found dead at his post outside, shot by a tranquilizer gun, with a note taped to his chest, it’s for you.” William announced and handed the paper to the most important and dangerous man of the mob, his boss.

“What the fuck?” A long silence stayed in the air while Tom processed the news. Awkwardness had filled the entire room as they all awaited Tom’s response.

“For fucks sake, you need at least 3 guards posted outside. NOW!” He screamed as his anger continued to rise as read the note.

“Yes, Sir.” William said promptly.

“God forbid anything else happen tonight, but my wife and kids are the first ones to be escorted to safe house. Understood?” Tom explained as he only was only thinking about his family in that moment.

“Yes, Sir.” William said and quickly ran out before he could get the brunt of Tom’s upcoming outburst. Right on cue, Tom threw a glass ashtray at the wall, it shattering into shards.

“Calm down mate, what did the note even say.” Harrison asked with a worrisome look on his face. Tom showed Harrison the joy and his smile faded immediately. Tom for the first time, in a while, felt fear because he knew he had everything to lose.

Not wanting to deal with the life long headache that is his life. He looked for solace in, you, his wife as he spotted her over by the fireplace and made his way over to you.

“Have told you look stunning tonight?” He said instantly falling in love with you over again.

“Several times actually,” you said.

“Well I can’t help what you do to me, gorgeous.” He said placing a kiss to your temple.

“Hey, have you had the talk with him yet?” You said pointing a finger at your son getting very intimate with some girl.

The girl was Charlotte Owens. Parker and her had been together for almost a year, but you and Tom hadn’t met her formally yet. Your son was very tight-lipped the it came to his private life. She was tall, fair and had platinum blonde hair along with piercing blue eyes. Rosie didn’t seem to like her very much, constantly annoyed by her popularity status and reputation, used to be known for being with a new guy every couple weeks and don’t put it past Rosie to not give her the benefit of the doubt.

“No, remember we’re going to do it tonight. Is something wrong?” He said with concern, worried why you would forget something so important.

“No, not that talk, silly, “The talk”,” you responded. His lips formed an “o” shaped as he realized he would have to teach his son about how to be safe during sex.

“Oh, no. I’ve been avoiding it for as long as possible.”

“Why baby, you’re so good at it. You could give him a few a pointers.” You said, winking at him.

“Wow, love, you surprise me everyday. Speaking of beautiful girls, where’s Rosie. I’ve haven’t seen her all night,” Tom quickly trying to change the subject as they were at a party.

“I saw her a few minutes ago,” you said as a puzzled look grew on her face.

“Come on, let’s go find her and maybe you and I can sneak off for awhile.” He said cheekily.

“Tommy,” you whispered but eventually agreed. Slowly making your way out of the main ballroom to the secret garden next to his office.

Walking very slyly, you both made your way to secret spot near Tom’s office. Where ivy had grown throughout the brick and purple and yellow tulips lined the fence along with giant trees. There was a little wishing fountain that Tom had installed when you moved in, this was their secret spot. One where they could forget about all the violence and responsibility that tainted their lives.

Their intimate moment was ruined when Rosie walked by with some random guy named Connor, not the person she’d hope to bring there. All throughout the night Rosie seemed to be jealous of the attention her crush was getting at the party as he didn’t pay attention to her. Thus, she went find a distraction of her own.

“Oh hey, shh, look two people getting it on over there,” he whispered to her as she dragged him outside.

“Please don’t be my brother.” She murmured but felt like she wanted to throw up when she saw who it was.

“Mom, dad?” Rosie screamed.

“Oh shit, we’ve been busted,” Tom muttered against your neck.

“Hey honey,” You said while Rosie was completely mortified. Rosie’s potential hookup stood there mouth wide open.

“That’s your mum, god, she’s a babe.” Connor said.

“Connor, not helping.” Rosie exclaimed sternly as she pinched his side.

Tom spoke up, “Why don’t you guys go back and enjoy the rest of the party.”

Rosie just nodded and left as fast as humanly possible. She never wants to be that embarrassed again.

“Oh my god, we were gonna get it later.” You said.

“I know, we really screwed up this time. But have you had “the talk” with her yet,” Tom asked.

“Nope, we should both really get on that. What would I’ve happened if they hadn’t caught us?” You asked jokingly.

“I don’t want to think about that Y/N! She’s our daughter.” Tom exclaimed.

“Neither do I.”

“Enough of this, where were we?” Tom interjected immediately changing the subject.

“Well you lips were on my neck and you hand was on my waist, but I think the moment has passed and we should get back to the party,” you said rather seductively.

“Fine, I know you’re right. But fuck, I just want to make out with my wife,” Tom muttered frustratingly.

“Well you can later... in bed.” Winking as you chuckled.

“Man, that kid was right, you are a babe.”he said as he slapped your ass as you walked in front of him chuckling.

“Is it time for cake?” Harrison asks as he came up to Tom and you.

“I think it is.” Tom said and you nodded. Walking towards Rosie, who was desperately trying to erase her self from existence because of the embarrassment she’d experienced a minute ago.

“Hi, honey. Can you please go find your brother? We are going to cut the cake.” You said trying not to accidentally bring up the elephant in the room.

“Alright, fine,” Rosie muttered still a little peeved finding you and Tom like that. Rosie searched high and low for Parker.

Needing some assistance she asked Henry. “Hey, have you seen my brother?”

“Last I saw he was taking Charlotte to the green house” Henry responded.

“Alright, come on, let’s go find them” Rosie said rolling her eyes. Her hand slipped into Henry’s as she led the way. Making their way through the vast yet gorgeous yard. Rosie and Henry found Parker and Charlottes lips entangled together and bodies in a compromising position in the green house

“For fucks sake, how many people am I going to find sucking face at this party.” Rosie yelled, startling Charlotte and Parker.

“What the fuck do you want, Rosie? Can’t you see I’m busy.” Parker quipped annoyingly.

“Mom and dad want to cut the cake” Rosie responded.

“Ugh fine. Give us 10 mins” knowing he will be finished in that time.

“No, you can fuck your bimbo of a girlfriend later.” Rosie said, receiving a grimace from Charlotte.

“Don’t you fucking talk about her like that! Fuck off!” Parker yelled as Henry and Rosie left. Both of the kids had inherited Tom’s angry side.

“Well, you can explain to mom and dad you were late because you were balls deep in in your whore,” Rosie said walking away.

The moments leading up to the end of Parker’s innocence were fleeting. In more ways than one. He wasn’t a virgin even before that evening but, Parker could imagine the task he was supposed to accomplish. The 3 tier chocolate raspberry ganache cake had been cut and distributed to the guests. Happy birthday had been sung to Rosie and Parker. Parker tried to go off with Charlotte again, but Harrison stopped him and brought him to the Tom’s office.

“They’re in there,” Harrison whispered.

“Who?” Parker asked Harrison who was like his uncle.

“Just go,” Parker opened the door to see his mother and his dad sat behind the desk. The door shut behind him.

“Mom? Dad? What’s going on here?” Parker hesitated.

“Son, sit down,” Tom said, knowing this wasn’t going to be easy.

“We have to talk to you.” You interjected.

“Parker, as part of this family, there are certain responsibilities you have to take. It is a tradition in our family that at the age of 16, the sons are brought to light about the dealings of our family and what is expected of you,” Tom said as Parker grew wary. Not really understanding what his parents were trying to convey.

Throughout his entire life, he had his suspicions about his family. Wondering why men followed them everywhere, even on trips to the store for eggs. Why his parents went to work but have never seen their office, only heard it referred to as “the warehouse.” Why everything was always so damm secretive. Scared if he accidentally let some enormous family secret slip with his big mouth there would be repercussions. Never not scared of the harm that could come to his family.

“Your father, is the leader of a very powerful mob. I am part of it too, not just as wife but as his partner. There will be day when he will longer be in position of boss and you will take over,” you asserted playing off of Tom’s words.

“Our family is not only the owners of one of the world’s richest exporting company, we also do business with casinos and own multiple hotel chains. Sometimes our work brings us above the law, but the connections we have are what keep us alive.” Tom explained trying to preserve his son’s innocence.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Parker stuttered.

“Because it is time. Time for you to step up and take your place in this family. You’ve had 16 years of juvenile fun and now this is what has to be done.” Tom concluded.

“What if I don’t want this life. You don’t think I don’t know what happens behind closed doors here. All the times dad has come home with a black eye or blood on his knuckles. Why fuck isn’t Rosie here? She is the same age as me, WE ARE TWINS! Why am I the only one who has to do this. I don’t want to kill for sport like you and mom!” Parker screamed. He couldn’t handle this anymore. There was too much information he had to process.

“Do not raise your voice at your mother! Tom screamed.

“Dad, I had dreams and hopes. I wanted to go to college and travel. Find a nice girl and marry her. Experience the kind of love you and mom have. What you are asking me to do, flushes all that away. You are asking me to give up on my life.

So that’s it, I don’t have a choice,” Parker begged.

“Baby, you have a choice. Nothing is set in stone,” you said rubbing his arm.

“Y/N, you damm well know what will happen if he turns this down,” Tom yelled.

“Maybe this life works for you two, but I don’t want this kind of life. My answer is no. Find someone else.”

“Parker, you know I can’t do that. Take a couple days and think about it” Tom answered trying to stay calm.

“NO DAD! My answer is final, I’m not going to be your apprentice to carry on this heinous family legacy!” Parker exploded. It was too much.

“If you aren’t willing to do what is asked of you, then you can forget about being in this family!” Tom screamed. He did exactly what he said he wouldn’t, he gave his son an ultimatum. Parker couldn’t handle it anymore and left. Needing to forget about the fact he no longer had a say. He was stuck.

It was just Tom and you sitting in the study. They couldn’t understand where the conversation had gone. All their hopes for tonight went out the window along with potted plant Tom threw when Parker stormed out.

“Tom, you can’t force him. You can’t do what your father did to you to him.” You tried to say in a loving tone but it came out as stern.

“IM NOT, Y/N!!!” Tom screamed. He had fucked up. The words spoken tonight have rewritten his relationship with his son.

“Alright.” You whispered trying to calm your fuming husband down.

“I’m sorry I raised my voice, baby.” Tom’s tone immediately changed once he heard the softness of your voice. You just nodded in response

“Tommy?” You asked hoping Tom was now ok.

“Yes, love” Tom said.

“He’ll come around. I can promise you that.”

“I know, darling. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what?” a look of confusion grew on your face.

He handed you a paper, the same one that was found on Daniel’s body, saying “Eclipsing of the Hollands. Let the show begin. Better watch your back.”

It was threat. A play to eventually be made on his life or the life of his family and you all had no idea who was behind it.

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas Series Masterlist

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #Dad!Mob!Tom Holland #Mob!Tom #mobster #Mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom x reader

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years

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Void of Extinction by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 1/9

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Chapter 1: There is Nothing to Fear

Storybrooke Maine, 2052. The world is slowly dying from a plague, only known as J2, that is spreading across the realms, a disease that has no cure. A faction known as “The Rebellion” have moved underground to search for a cure while avoiding detection from “The Hive”, a dangerous group run by an unidentified man of darkness searching for power. The only thing standing in the way of either group taking power is Mayor Regina Mills, who spends her time protecting the residents of Storybrooke from criminals who might bring the plague to her small town. The most dangerous occupants, those deemed most likely to bring the plague to town, are given a new opportunity, a chance for a new life, without being a danger to society, courtesy of the Gold Collective.

The pain was tortuously blinding as he tried to open his eyes. It was a feeling of waking from an all-night bender he couldn’t even remember attending. Peering through slits, his room came into view, blue neon lit behind the monitor on his wall. “Status Report.” He spoke, a gritty tone leaving his throat.

“Good morning James, it’s 7:53 am, pollution level 63%, you have no appointments today.” The pleasant robotic voice carried throughout the room. Something felt wrong, like a small itch at the back of his brain, a light tick that was calling out to him, telling him to pay attention.

He stood from his bed, the silk sheets falling to the ground behind him as he wandered through the apartment. “Open blinds.” He spoke and the metal slats hummed as they opened fully, revealing the land in front of him, dark smoke clouds on the horizon behind the mountains. Storybrooke, the only home he had ever known. He sighed; he was going to be late. He was halfway to the bathroom before he stopped in his tracks.

What the bloody hell was he about to be late for?

“What time do I have to be at work?” he said loudly.

“You are expected at 8:30am. Shall I prepare transport?”

He groaned, “Sure, but where is my destination?”

“Granny’s Diner, Main Street, Storybrooke.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache taking form at the back of his neck. “Granny’s.” He mumbled. Short memories, like a picture show, formed in his head, an older woman barking orders at him as he cooked burgers in the back of the small diner. He was a cook. He wasn’t sure why that felt odd to him, like something was out of place. He didn’t have time to contemplate the decisions he made in his life. He was going to be late for work.

The quick shower didn’t erase the feelings, images he didn’t recognize were imprinted in his subconscious every time he closed his eyes. A woman with hair, a light pale yellow, eyes green as grass staring at him. He couldn’t place the image, some celebrity perhaps he had seen in a movie. He shut off the water, running the towel through his hair as he tried to rub the sleep from his brain.

He dressed and left his apartment, sliding the locks shut with a slam, cranking the large metal door handle to the right to ensure it was locked. He glanced down the darkened hallway at the few people meandering about, the lot of which always appeared to be lurking, watching for unsuspecting individuals who left their belongings unprotected.

“You’re late.” The woman growled as soon as he entered the back of the diner.

“I’m sorry, Granny. In my defense, I forgot I had…” He thought about his sentence. What did he forget exactly? That he had a job, that he was a cook, why he had even woken up at the time he did, dreaming about a woman he had never met, “to work this early.” He finished.

“I’ve had to tell you the same thing since you started working here, it would do you some good to have your AIM set a damn alarm before you go to bed.”

Killian had alerted his AIM or Artificial Intelligence Monitorto set a 7am alarm, yet it failed to alert him to his shift for the last few weeks. He would need to have it repaired if this continued.

“Yes Ma’am, apologizes.”

“Just get to work, we got people waiting.”

James pushed through his shift, flipping burgers, cracking eggs, and sending out plates of food he had no memory of knowing how to cook. He wondered to himself how he ended up with this life, when had he decided that this was the best job he could find? Each time he tried to imagine another career, something that he might actually enjoy doing, the migraine would hit him out of nowhere, crippling him until the inhibitor was injected into his arm and his breathing returned to normal.

Whatever plagued him, this medical condition that brought him to his knees had always been with him from what he could remember. He assumed that it had begun when he was a child, it was second nature for him to know to inject himself once the pain hit. Yet he couldn’t remember when it began.

He climbed the stairs to his apartment at the end of the day, entering his room and locking it down behind him. “Set alarm for 7am.” He said once he sat his keys on the counter.

“Alarm set. 7am.”

He went about the mundane task of preparing his dinner, watching the Holo TV, news that the plague had spread to the outer banks was on every station. Mayor Mills calmed the crowd during her press conference and on each holo announcement that played every 15 mins.

“People of Storybrooke, I give you my assurance that the plague will not breach our walls. We have taken every measure possible to protect our citizens. We continue to fight back the resistance uprising, and our law enforcement continues to arrest any faction that supports it. There is nothing to fear.”

Mayor Regina Mills stood in the center of the screen, flanked by her officers on either side. She was fierce, strong, and protected the town of Storybrooke with honor.

“Turn off Holo TV.” He announced, setting his dishes in the machine for cleaning.

He crawled into bed, pulling the covers over his hips. “What time is the alarm set for?” He asked, ensuring that everything was still working.

“Alarm is set for 7am, James. Sleep well.”

~*~

Emma woke to the sound of crying. She jumped up from her spot and reached for her son, pulling him against her chest. “Hush now Henry, mommy’s got you.” Pressing her child to her breast she felt the tug against her nipple as her son quieted. She smiled down at the infant in her arms, her heart aching as she watched him so still against her, as if nothing in the world mattered but his own nourishment.

Emma wished her view of the world were as innocent. But she knew better.

She looked around the dark shack she had been hiding in for the last few weeks. She could hear the water on the other end of the door, just on the outskirts of the town line. It would be dangerous if anyone were to find her. She had given up everything to get away from Neal Cassidy. Her safety, comfort, even her future was all gone the instant she escaped the tower that had been her home for the last five years.

Emma knew it was dangerous being outside the protective walls of Storybrooke, those who had been exiled lived on the outskirts, many would not escape the plague once they lost the protections provided behind the walls. Emma knew it all too well, five years ago when the plague first appeared, she had taken ill, she was expected to die quickly, painfully. But after a month, the symptoms subsided, and Emma survived.

Doctors could not explain why she survived, only that she had been very lucky.

And then she met Neal. She thought she had finally found someone to share her life with. She was taken in by his father, Gold, a man obsessed with finding the cure to the plague.

His company, The Gold Collective had invested in experimenting on anyone who had come down with the plague, valiantly searching for a cure, the perfect gene sample that would save humanity, but his efforts had been fruitless as most of his subjects died before he had completed his experiments.

Emma found him to be odd, even a bit intimidating at times. His obsession with the plague caused her to keep her own situation quiet. She had a feeling if he had known that she had somehow lived through the plague that his interest in her might become more than just the father of the man she lived with.

Gold took care of her, as Neal’s girlfriend, he ensured that she had everything she could ever want. And Neal provided her money, food, and a roof over her head. Something she didn’t have before she had met him, back when she was homeless, trying to find her place in Storybrooke. Neal took her in and loved her.

But all of that changed a little over a year ago. Emma wasn’t snooping, she hadn’t meant to be in the office after hours, but Neal had not returned home that evening, and Emma had been worried. So, she left the penthouse suite of Gold Laboratories and headed to Neal’s office. Before she even reached his wing, she heard arguing.

The conversation between Gold and his son was chilling. She knew she needed help. She didn’t want to cause alarm or alert either of the men to the knowledge she had overheard them, had realized who the Gold Collective really was, so instead she waited out her time. A week passed before she found her mark, a police detective whom she had followed for days. He lived a quiet life, devoted to his job, going between his apartment downtown and his job at the station, never deviating from his day. He always arrived at work at 10:02am for a 10:30 shift. He had lunch with his partner at 12:45, he picked up Chinese food at 9:00pm before returning to his apartment. She had watched him assisting his elderly neighbor up the stairs and she knew this was the man she needed to trust.

Officer Killian Jones didn’t know what to make of her when she showed up at his door at midnight one night. Begging to talk to him, asking for discretion as she tried to determine if he trusted her. When he learned of the knowledge she had, he panicked. He sent her home that evening, telling her to wait a week before she reached out to him again.

It took a month, Emma would arrive at his apartment, they would talk about their plans, share intel on what they had each learned, and suddenly, knowing he was the one person she could trust, feeling like for the first time in her life, someone understood and truly cared about her, she fell for the man.

He tried to deny her, not wanting to take advantage of her trust. But they were in love. There was no denying it. The affair was something that neither one of them had the power to stop. Emma would spend her evenings with Killian, staring at the stars talking about what the future held for them once they were able to figure out a way to stop everything that was happening around them.

But she always returned to Neal, she had no choice but to keep up the ruse in order to protect the secret she had. Too many powerful people were involved for her to alert anyone else. Killian didn’t even trust his partner David enough to share the information.

Suddenly Neal became protective of her, asking her where she was going anytime she left the apartment, so Emma had to distance herself from Killian. It had been a month since they had been in contact when Emma received devastating news. She and Neal were having a baby. It broke her heart. When she finally told Killian, he urged her to escape before the child was born. Once Neal had a child, he would never let her leave.

Emma knew he was right, unfortunately by the time she planned her escape, the child was born a prematurely. She was trapped. Killian became concerned for her safety now that a child was involved, and Emma was forced to share her secret with her childhood friend, Will Scarlett. He sprang into action, becoming the go between for Emma and Killian to set their plan in motion for Emma and Henry to escape.

That night, she met Will on the roof, and they made their daring escape, 65 flights of stairs down the back of the building. They waited for hours at the drop off point, but Killian never showed. Emma was devastated, she felt trapped. Will went in search of him, he wasn’t at his apartment, the station, or any of his usual locations. Killian was gone without a trace.

She knew that something bad had happened to him. He would never abandon her. She trusted him. The only solution she could come up with was that Gold or Neal had found out about their plan.

Killian was in danger, unless something bad had already happened to him. She was desperate to find him. Without Killian Jones, the entire town was in danger.

“Are you decent?” Will’s voice rang out from the other side of the door. She pulled her shirt over her breast, setting her sleeping son beside her.

She stood up and looked through the crack in the door. Will was standing nervously on the edge of the water. She clicked the locks, lifting the wooden latch until the door slid open. Will stepped quickly into the shack.

“You ok?”

“Did you find anything?” She asked anxiously.

“Maybe.”

Emma stared at him with pleading eyes. “What do you mean maybe?”

“Look, don’t freak out, ok?”

“You’re scaring me.” She responded nervously.

“I drove by the station again, nothing. David is there but Killian wasn’t around. I didn’t want to go in, because I figure they might start asking questions, but there was this girl sitting outside and I asked who I could talk to about a case of Killian’s, and I used me ole charm and she told me that he never came back to work a few days ago, and that they opened a missing persons case on him.”

“Oh God, Will.”

“I said don’t freak out.”

“This is terrible. They killed him, didn’t they?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I haven’t told you everything yet.” He pleaded as she paced the room. “Anyway, I went by his apartment, and it was empty. The neighbor says they haven’t seen him for days.” She started to speak, and he pressed his hand to her mouth. “Emmie, I need you to be quiet, I know that’s hard for you.”

She groaned against his finger and mumbled. “Fine.”

“I got hungry as I usually do about this time and got a craving for a big greasy burger.”

“Seriously, you wanted me to be quiet so you could talk about food? I’m losing my patience, Scarlet.”

“The burger was excellent by the way, but that’s not the point.” He paused. “I went back to my car, and there was a man out back tossing out some trash.”

“Would you get to the damn point!” She yelled.

“It was Killian.”

“What?”

“The guy out back. Spitting image of him.”

“Did you talk to him, ask him what the hell is going on?”

“I talked to him, but he acted like he’d never seen me in his life. Swears his name is James Rogers. Emmie, it was the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen. But I tried, I even called him Killian Jones and he stared straight through me…” He dropped his head. “And then he thought about it, I could see the wheels turning in his head, and then he started wincing, and that’s when I saw it.”

“Saw what?” Emma asked impatiently, dreading the fact that she could already feel it in her gut, she knew what he was going to tell her, every sensor in her brain was going off that she already knew the truth.

“An inhibitor. The man injected himself with one of Gold’s inhibitors.”

Emma felt the tears forming, she knew it was the truth. It made sense, he would never have abandoned her or Henry. The only explanation was that Gold or Neal had found out what she was planning to do and got to Killian first. “They erased him.” She said sadly, feeling every last bit of hope she had draining from her being.

“Emmie, he’s one of the void. There’s no way back from that.”

“Don’t say that, we don’t know that. It’s all experimental, it’s not even legal. Gold’s been doing it for years on test subjects. Killian can fight it; I know he can. He’s too strong.”

“Emmie, he had no idea, absolutely no idea of who I was.”

“It doesn’t matter, Will. We must keep trying. Maybe the inhibitor just suppresses his memories. We have to get him not to use it.”

“For all we know, not using it could cause his brain to explode. It’s dangerous.”

“I won’t give up on him Will. I can’t lose him.”

He pulled her into his arms, rubbing her back in slow circles as she cried. “It’s gonna be ok, we’ll figure it out.”

“What are we going to do, Will? Without Killian, I’ll never get into the station to upload the information.”

“We’ll find a way. That’s what we do right?”

She smiled weakly. She wouldn’t give up on him, he risked so much to try and protect her and another man’s child. He had given her hope when she had none. She would never stop trying to get him back. Even if it killed her, she would save Killian Jones and take down the Gold empire.

#void of extinction #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fics #captain swan modern au

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nexyra · 3 years

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James Ironwood, for character ask? 👀

Aaaa thank you so much for the ask ♡ More rambling incoming !! Sorry for the wait btw, I've been both pretty busy and tired ;;

If you hate James Ironwood and don't wanna hear one good thing about him tap out now please ღ

My fav ship(s) for the character

I am not a super big shipper when it comes to James, but there are still some I like more than others soo here goes :

I think Ironwitch is a pretty good one. It's not necessarily a ship I'd search content for but I think these two would work well together ! Glynda is stern and honest and a no-nonsense kind of woman. She has the strenght to stand up to James when he slips or gets too stubborn when faced with the high stakes. At the same time, we've been shown that she cares for him and she knows he's only trying to do what's best for people. She has faith in him but also the ability to stand at his side as an equal. She seems to be the more steadfast of Ozpin's circle : loyal, you know you can trust her, and she will not crumble. This is the kind of personnality that I think James both admire and feel safe with. And the other way around, I think James is a good match for Glynda too. On a day to day basis, he's serious enough to not annoy here, but he's also a softie in some aspects and that's a nice combination to smooth out Glynda's edges.

Ironqrow is a completely different dynamic. The "we're annoying each other" dynamic is not one I'm particularly interested in usually xD But these two certainly had strong & interesting moments so it's a pretty valid ship !! Despite how they might butt heads because of the difference in their upbringing they (prior to V8) clearly trusted each other with their life. Even if Qrow jokes about shooting himself if he had to be one of James' man, when everything goes to shit there is no doubt in his mind that James wasn't responsible. Similarly, while James talks of shooting Qrow for his misbehaviour, when push comes to shove and we meet a tired Ironwood, run ragged by the pressure he's under... the only thing he does is hug him and reiterates how glad he is to see him. So again, they clearly have a lot of faith and trust in the other, and that's solid ground for a relationship.

My least favorite ship(s) for the character

Same spiel as always, shipping kids and adults is a big no from me; so any ships between Ironwood and RWBYJNOR can qualify here. That said, among the less uncomfortable ones, here are those I don't really like

This one is again because I love their relationship but platonically only, I'm talking of Winter Soldier. The reading I like best is not that Ironwood is Winter's Jacques 2.0, nor that he groomed her; but that he was an important father figure in her life. Protective and caring, who tried to help her escape with what he knew. I don't see James recruiting Winter as a way to gain a strong ally. But rather that Winter wanted to detach herself from her family name, and make something worthwhile of herself all on her own. And that the military is what Ironwood knows and understand, so naturally it's a career he'd see as a good path. Just like Winter then proposed it to Weiss. I like to think they care about each other a LOT and they're their own tight family in between the lines, even if professionalism might throw a wrench into it. For short I love them together but not romantically please =)

I don't know if there's a ship name for this, but Salem x James Ironwood would be a big nope from me too... In general, let's just assume I ship Salem with nobody because abuse.

My fav & least fav platonic relationship(s) for the character

Fav platonic relationship would be (have been because we dont talk about V8?) with Winter. Fooor the reasons I've explained above I suppose x) I (again) love the trust they had in one another and the quiet support.

There was also his relationship with Oscar that I really liked during V7, although it has been soured a bit by the (valid) reading from some people that Ironwood sought out Ozpin a lot through Oscar, and given his identity issues it is not ground for a greatly healthy relationship. Their interactions were still very intersting though ♡ I consider Oscar to be the kid who went at trying to appease James' fear or make him reconsider his decisions the best way. There was true understanding and hope for a working relationship here. I do feel that Oscar put in more work than James however (emotionally) and I wish there had been pay-back instead of a gunshot.

For my least fav relationship ? Probably Robyn or Watts ? Robyn was always very antagonistic toward Ironwood since their priorities are so different. And I overall just don't really like her after V7 so there are very few relationships with her I'm interested in (the exception is her ship with Fiona I think it's cute). Meanwhile, Watts is just a petty asshole hell bent on ruining Ironwood because he didn't pick his project. I'm not very interested in hate relationships, and since theirs wasn't deeply explored anyway, it's even more the case here. Their fight was great though, one of my favorite RWBY fights !

My favorite thing about the character

Well this was completely proven wrong by V8 buuut as of V7 I liked that he was a deconstruction of the military general (dictator) trope. Sooo you can guess how i feel about V8 X) In general among RWBY, several of my fav are fav BECAUSE they look like one trope but also have key differences that from the get go make the character stray away from said trope. For example I'm not a fan of the princess tsundere archetype at all, but I loooved Weiss in V1 BECAUSE she was extra-willing to listen and change her mind, and you could very easily tell that it was her upbringing speaking more than herself in most occasions.

Similarly, I wasn't a big fan of Ironwood before V7. I didn't hate him you know and he wasn't lower than most characters in my Tier list but I also didn't particularly care. But you know what ? I've aaaalways had a really soft spot for the "angsty angry traumatized teen". And RWBY made the mistake of extending that soft spot to "tired adults trying their best" (only to repeatedly beat them up/make them villains after making me care about them but what can you do uh)

Soo in general, I loved that Ironwood was trying so hard. I loved that he was tired and in over his head but learning and listening and trying to do good and be better despite his fears. I liked that he told his entourage about Salem and was loyal. I liked that he cared about helping the people above his own image and the way people perceived him. I liked that you could tell this was a terrible situation all around, and his decisions WERE questionnable but we could SEE that he meant WELL and was genuinely trying so hard despite how scared and tired he was.

My biggest criticism for the character

Well this won't be a surprise but in general I just wished he had stayed a morally grey character we were allowed to feel for instead of a cartoon black villain. I didn't need James to be THE Hero or anything like this despite some accusations levelled at those who like him. Him becoming one of RWBY's antagonist is honestly fine by me ! It is interesting. But I'd have preferred they kept him ambiguous and trying in his own way. (And smart because V8 Ironwood was dumb af)

I can be a tad overprotective of his character since he's just... so despised, so I think that I have inadvertently distanced myself from any of his flaws... somehow like "people are already yelling all of them so I don't need to add to this shit show" you know ? skjfkd But I KNOW he has them and it would still have been good to develop his flaws, just... not like that

But yea I'd have liked it if V8 Ironwood DID diverge from RWBYJNORQ and became an antagonist but not an iredeemable villain. LIKE,, we redeemed Hazel and Emerald and IRONWOOD is where the writers draw the line by saying "nope this one is rotten" ?? What ?

When was their writing at the peak according to me (ex : best season)

V7 definitely ! Ironwood carried V7 so hard haha. His character was fleshed out and given nuance and made to struggle and evolve and I loved him in that volume.

A song I think fits them & why

Hunger • Monsters & Men Human • Rag'n'Bone Man Way down we go • Kaleo Beekeeper • Keaton Henson Thistle and weeds • Mumford and Sons Castle of Glass • Linkin Park It's all so incredibly loud • Glass Animals

A headcanon to make up about them

His metal parts impact his metabolism so Ironwood is terrible at holding his alcohool and very little manages to knock him out. He's a workaholic. His low tolerence for alcohool is a great tool whn friends need to put him to sleep.

His joints crack and hurt in the cold, his metal parts as well and they are an hassle in the sand. James like to keep his room temperature warmer than the average atlasian because of this, otherwise he has to spend 30 min every morning simply unwiding muscles to move around efficiently.

He's not a good singer but has a nice low voice for telling stories. If he had kids, he'd probably avoid lullabies but compensate with bedtimes stories.

What I would change about them if I was making a re-write

As always, I'm kind of reflecting along the way as I write this, and one thing I'm thinking right now is... Doesn't it take away from the atlas arc message ITSELF to just pile up so many "standard bad guy" stuff on Ironwood ? Like, I wanna ask... why do we hate him ? Is he an antagonist because he lets fear get the best of him ? Because he's a classist who doesn't care about Mantle like some fans argue ? Because he's too stubborn and wants to be THE hero ? Because he doesn't listen to others ? Because he abandonned Mantle ? Because he kills peopke left and right ? Because he wanted to bomb a city ? I think you might see where I'm going with this : his status as villain is kind of messy. V8 just kept piling-up flaws and villainous actions onto Ironwood with no concern for whether this was a lenght he would go to (using the certainty that he would go to any lenghts to enact his plans), ,or whether these were one of the initial flaws/failings that led to his "fall" as an antagonist. What lesson is Ironwood supposed to learn ? Personally the very first time I yelled at my screen "No ! Why would the writers choose that ?" is when Ironwood shot Oscar. When answering criticism against medias, many people tend to look at it only through the lense of "well it makes sense in universe" or as if there were no other ways for the story to devolve. But at the end of the way, everything in a story is a choice from the writer even if it is influenced by the characters' personnalities. If I took the scene where Ironwood shoots Oscar, someone might tell me "he's crippled by his PTSD, he COULD do this." Maybe, that's a reading I can somewhat understand at least. But the writers have the power to NOT put his character in such a position. When I saw the wreck that was V7 finale, I ranted to my bestfriend about it and at no point did i say "why did Ironwood do that", I said "why did the writers make him shoot Oscar, the only point narratively would be to make irredeemable" Aaaand that's what they went for and I obviously didn't care for it. So if I had to rewrite it; I would have kept Ironwood's "mistakes" more focused. If he's wrong because he wants to abandon Mantle, because he's (understandably) scared and doesn't want to take risks; then stay focused on that. It's what makes RWBY leave, and out of all his V8 actions that's really the only thing RWBY needed to tell the whole world he wasn't an ally anymore apparently. - Don't make him shoot Oscar point blank, instead Oscar can simply fall because he flinches away from Ironwood's outburst; and a distraught/guilty Ironwood can decide that he doesn't have the time or capacity to help because of the tense situation. (Killing and not saving someone don't hold the same moral weight at all). - Don't make him kill people left and right or bomb cities, maintain the flaw of Ironwood struggling with his PTSD and his fear and not being able to take risks. - Don't paint him as a black villain, and eventually write V8 in such a way that RWBYJNORQ show taking risks might lead to a bigger victory, which was the volume's theme anyway. For example, following Oscar's destruction of the whale, a growth can occur that would bring back together the two anti-Salem factions : Oscar's risk put Atlas out of harm's way, which leads to Ironwood seeing that maybe there WAS a way to save Mantle as well as Atlas despite Salem's presence and he might have jumped the gun too quickly because of his fears. I'm not sure, I haven't thought about this extensively honestly but I hope you see what I mean. I think it would have been more focused & more in-character to focus Ironwood's failings on his fear; and the fact that he cares for the people and the greater good sometimes at the cost of the individuals. The idea that by sacrificing individuals too much you forget the people you're fighting for in the first place, could have been interesting to dig deeper into. Keep to the idea that Ironwood is somewhat disensitized to the individuals suffering for the sake of the greater good, instead of making him just

callous & uncaring.

My guess for their MBTI/Enneagram

I think pre-V8 Ironwood was an unconventionnal ENFJ. Aka, the type of character no one would type ENFJ because they go by stereotypes and Fe stereotypes are just enneagram 2 everywhere (aka nice, kind, helpful) whereas Ironwood has an enneagram tritype very common among xxTJs so that's what he looks/behaves like, but the way he thinks (what's best for the people, ethical values derived from an Atlasian upbringing) align more with Fe cognitively I think I'm going with ENFJ 6w5 1w2 3w4

Starting from V8 though, Ironwood veered clearly into ENTJ territory (types aren't supposed to change but I wouldn't say RWBY is the most consistent media when it comes to characters' personnalities)

One aspect that I think would be nice to delve deeper into ?

I understand why they didn't care to, but it'd have been interesting to get a few backstory hints for Ironwood. How did he lose half his body ? How did Oz recruit him ? Or some pieces about his upbringing ?

#rwby #james ironwood #james ironwood canoncrit #rwby thoughts #rwby rewrite #rwde #ask me stuff #enneagram #mbti #v7 spoilers #v8 spoilers #pro james ironwood

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princesscatherinemiddleton · 4 years

Text

DISCLAIMER: I haven’t sat through the entire interview and I genuinely doubt I ever will. I’ve seen clips. I saw part of it when I walked past my front room and it was on. But I haven’t seen the whole thing

Feel free to not read this and ignore I posted it. This is only because I promised to post it yesterday and... forgot. TLDR: Meg is an angel who deserves happiness, I still love and always will love KMiddy (that’s why I have a blog on her bbs), me and Hazza are done, Charles is no longer my friend

I’m going to split this into sections but I need to start by saying that if I could take away one ounce of the pain Meghan went through I would. It sickens to me to know how she felt. I only wish she has the best life with her two beautiful babies and is happy. I also want to say I don’t blame anyone who saw Meghan’s interview and decided they needed to cut ties with royal watching for their own mental health. While there are parts of the interview I may disagree or have issues with, the point remains, this interview was not for me and my opinion is only here for @duchessanon

The Suicidal Ideation: The only blessing I can see here is that Meghan didn’t seem to have a plan. I might has misread it - but I truly hope I haven’t - but I hope it hadn’t reached that stage. I’m angry and upset and in pain that she felt like that. The fact she’ll have to carry that with her forever. The fact she was in so much pain she couldn’t see a way out while she was pregnant. If you don’t believe her or think it’s a lie, please never interact with me ever again

Mental Health: While I don’t blame Harry for his reaction, I also do blame him. I am angry that he didn’t act immediately to protect Meghan when she told him, his family be damned. I’m angry that his reaction was “my family won’t like this” rather than telling his family. I’m furious with “the institution”. I don’t care how it looked - if someone says they’re ill, you get them help. I would love to go back in time to when Meghan was struggling and drag her to the doctor’s myself, but I can’t and I’m sure her friends and family feel the same. I’m angry he has spoken about getting mental health support for himself but wouldn’t get it for his wife. I’m furious that he said he was “ashamed” (although I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt that it was the wrong word)

Mental Health - subcategory Heads Together: From what both Meghan and Harry said, bar one member “high up in the institution” (which sounds like Charles), no one else in the family knew about how Meghan was feeling. I could be wrong, and if so, I will hold my hands up, but the initial reaction of “I don’t want the BRF ever talking about mental health” is dangerous. I don’t think it can be overstated how incredible the positive impact Catherine has had on mental health in the UK is. When my sister was seeing First Response, they spoke to her a lot about Catherine’s Early Years Initiative. That has to continue (I’d like to point out that I don’t blame this narrative on either Harry or Meghan, but rightfully angry fans of the couple)

Kate Made Meghan Cry: I’m here to get kicked out of the KMiddy fan club. I believe it. A heavily pregnant or recently post-partum woman, a soon to be bride, a dress fitting. It’s a recipe for disaster. Meghan said Kate sent flowers in apology and she seems over it so y’all should get over it too

The “Dark” Comment: I know the rumour is Anne but it sounds like Charles to me. I do not stan that man. It’s wrong and disgusting and we all know that

Security: Official security is for working royals and always has been. Non-working royals have private security. The fact we don’t know who’s paying for Andrew’s security is an issue and needs to be dealt with. When they stepped back, the Sussexes were no longer entitled to official security. Should they still have been offered it, considering they were in a pandemic, the DM had leaked their address, and they were targets? Obviously. Just because something should happen doesn’t make it right. But I do understand why the security wasn’t there.

The Exit: Speaking of which, I don’t want to hear about who was or was not blindsided ever again. Harry and Meghan signalled they wanted to leave. They then jumped the gun. They were both blindsided and not blindsided

Titles: Meghan is saying the conversation was that when Charles is King, Archie wouldn’t get a title because he was “too dark”. That’s wrong. She was not saying ARCHIE SHOULD A PRINCE NOW. Read the room people

Being Trapped: The way Harry, and William and Charles to a lesser extent, talk about being royal really frustrates me. Crown Princess Victoria has spoken about what an honour it is the serve Sweden. Kate spoke about how she was honoured to show George off after his birth. Even Meghan spoke about how excited she was to work for the crown and meet people. These men aren’t trapped. They could all leave at any point. They’re babies

Harry: Harry clearly did not prepare Meghan. From the story about the curtsey, to the National Anthem, to what the press are like, he did not prepare her. He lacks and clear and complete understanding of the family and job he grew up in. I genuinely believe he was so scared Meghan would see how she would be treated and (rightfully) say no and he rushed her into marriage, without preparing her properly. Why is he so obsessed with his grandparents (I have guesses)? I’ve run out of patience for this manchild

Other:

Who the hell are the HR people for the royal family? Imagine that being your job

The newspaper articles they showed are honest and great except they also used those magazines that publish stories like “Camilla has KILLED the Queen”

Hazza called the UK Press racist, which is true, but he glossed over the fact the press feeds off the public

The mini vow exchange before the actual wedding was cute AF

Meghan calling the press corps a holiday party is cute but an honest mistake. Harry not correcting her is not so much

I would like to know how Meg made it to 2018 and did not know what the national anthem of GB was. Did she not watch sport?

The oversaturated comment - my initial thought was Catherine but now I’m thinking Eugenie?

Harry says Netflix and Spotify weren’t part of the plan but also said they wanted to be financially independent. What’s the truth? Were they going to get a job at Costco?

I’m surprised Archwell didn’t get a real mention because I very much assumed it was going to 90 mins of drama and 30 mins of promo

BABY SUSSEX IS A GIRL I KNEW IT WE ALL KNEW IT

#mine #personal #harry #meghan #please ignore this

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cherriesscheeol · 4 years

Text

Childhood Sweet Heart

pairing: seungcheol x reader

genre: angst

warnings: angsty, some fluff but not much, suggestive writing

words: 1.6k

summary: you’ve known seungcheol your whole life you’ve always been connected at the hip if somebody seen seungcheol they always seen you with him.. but what happens when you finally tell him how you feel..

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All your life the only male you’ve ever known is Choi Seungcheol.. The first time he laid on eyes on you was when your mom brought you home from the hospital only being a year older than you he didn’t remember much but he knew for a fact you were destined to be bestfriends.

When you were 5 and started school the first time he always protected you from the girls who bullied you. He would let you hang with him Joshua and Jeonghan and from then you stayed with the trio. Seungcheol never missed the chance to spend the night with you if he wasn’t with his friends.

When you were 10 things started to change slightly you started to realize that maybe you had a small crush on him but you were only 10 what did you know about crushes.. The older he got the less he wanted to spend time with you the more you wanted him around he was your comfort place the person you cried to and he was always there to hold you to comfort you and protect you from all the problems in the world.

3 years later you found yourself sharing your very first kiss with Seungcheol you complained to him so much about how the boys at your school didn’t like you and how the girls bragged about having there first kisses and all you wanted to do was experience it.. So on your 13th birthday he grabbed you by the face and pecked your lips quickly “See now you’ve had your first kiss too its was nothing too special” he smiles and after that you knew you loved Choi Seungcheol.

Only from then you watched him fall for several girls who weren’t you. You watched him kiss several girls who weren’t you. You watched Choi Seungcheol live his life as if you didn’t exist you watched from afar as he made more friends as he experienced several girlfriends.. and you; you only sat alone wishing it was you he loved wishing it was you he kissed, held hands, and smiled with everyday but it was no longer you.. it actually was never you and now your stuck in this unrequited love.

High School came and that’s when things got bad he didn’t even spare you glance now only hanging with his newly founded friends and a different girl on his arm every week and it only hurt you worse you wanted to talk to him but you knew he wouldn’t so you only stayed to yourself and watched him from a distance you were in love no doubt about it but no matter how many times you told him he would simply brush you off and tell you that you were only joking.

One night Seungcheol found himself missing you a lot more than usual.. he got threw on a pair of sweats and a pullover he recently got because you had most of his old ones he smiles at the thought of you.. He grabs his keys heading to see you.. You were sitting on the couch wrapped in one of his jackets eating junk food and watching drama’s when there was a loud knock on the door.

Not expecting anyone you open the door not expecting to see Cheol standing there “what are you doing here?” you ask you step aside to let him inside he smiles and goes “I can’t come see my bestfriend?” you roll your eyes at him “you must not have plans tonight.. you seem to always be busy these days’ you sit on the couch crossing your legs he can only chuckle at your words and goes “I actually did have plans but I canceled to spend time with you” he sits beside you pulling you into his arms your heart starts racing you look at him with big eyes.

“Seungcheol what are you doing” he pulls you closer to him “I miss cuddling with you” he nuzzles his face into your neck and sighs in content you wrap your arms around him slowly breathing in his familiar scent a small smile on your face missing these days with him cuddling and watching dramas.

After 30 mins of silence he speaks up “hey..” you hum in response and he sits up slightly to look at you and smiles “do you remember your 13th birthday?’ you groan slightly and cover your face “omg yes of course I do that day was the worse” you roll your eyes and he chuckles and goes “even when we kissed? Did you hate it that much?” your face burns hot and turns bright red “I thought you never wanted to talk about that again”

He stares at you and then at your lips “I know but lately I’ve been wondering what it would be like to kiss you again” you nearly choke on your spit “w-what!? Seungcheol are you drunk” he laughs loudly “No im completely sober I promise” You sit up slightly staring at him “Cheol I-” he cuts you off “a kiss wouldn’t hurt anyone right?” he leans closer to you and you nod slightly you trusted Cheol with your life so how bad would a small kiss be?

That small kissed turned into clothes being tossed across the room, names being called, sinful words being spilled from one’s mouth, that night you gave your everything to Choi Seungcheol hoping maybe just in the slightest it would change the way he thought about you maybe even the way he seen you but it didn’t because not even 2 mins after you finished he was putting his clothes on.

There was a slight pang in your chest as you watched him leave not even muttering a goodbye to you and barely sparing you a second glance. That night he left he took your heart with him and he left you there wondering why you never could be good enough for him or what you could possibly could be doing wrong for him not love you the way you loved him.

That last year of high school was horrible your heart only ached more any time you seen Seungcheol you did everything to avoid crossing paths with him, you ate lunch in class, took longer routes to get to your classes you even stopped staying after school to do extra activities not that he even noticed he was too busy with his new girlfriend to even notice how hurt you’ve been.

He may not have noticed but Wonu did he noticed the way you would scurry away anytime Seungcheol came around he noticed the sad lingering gazes he noticed it all and he wonder what the chestnut colored hair boy could’ve done to you for you not to even be in the same room as him. So he asked “hey cheol?’ Seungcheol turns to Wonu “wassup?” Wonu sighs slightly wondering if its his place to ask a question like this “have you talked to y/n lately?” he knew by the way Cheol’s face fell that something happened between the two of you he glances over to where you stand in line grabbing your lunch Cheol nods and goes “she’s my bestfriend why wouldn’t I talk to her?” he laughs a little Wonu only nods not wanting to dig too deep

That night there was banging on your door you quickly rush to answer thinking it was the pizza man delivering your pizza but when you opened the door there stood the guy you’ve been avoiding for months and the person you wanted to see the least right now you try closing the door in his face but he stops it with his foot and pushes his way inside closing the door behind him you huff “I didn’t say you could come in? Besides what are you doing here.. shouldn’t you be somewhere sucking Sooya’s face off” you roll your eyes and plop down on the couch

He scoffs “what’s been up with you lately? You’ve been avoiding me like im the black plague or something” you mumble “might as well be” he sighs and goes “what did I do” you look at him and chuckle “what haven’t you done Seungcheol?” he looks at you confusingly and opens his mouth to reply but you cut him off “You’ve led me on for years Seungcheol you know how I feel about you! You’ve always known and you used it against me you knew no matter what it was or what we did I could never say no to you!”

He stares at you and looks at the way your eyes water and lips quiver as you continue “Im in love with you Seungcheol I always have been since were little.. But I knew you never loved me back...” you chuckle slightly as the tears stream down your face “I always told you I liked but you would only laugh it off and tell me I was crazy but it was all true everyone knew except for you Cheol because you never wanted to believe me” you wipe your face and sniffle “I probably look stupid sitting here crying over my childhood bestfriend” you laugh slightly “you don’t have to accept my confession.. i just wanted you to know”

He hasn’t muttered a word telling you what you feared the most.. he doesn’t love you the way you love him he can’t accept your feelings but you knew that already you knew this was how this would end.. He stands up quickly “I-I have to go” he grabs his keys and rushes out the door. You stand there in pain not surprised even in the slightest by his reaction cause he knew all along this day would come he knew one day you would tell him you loved more than a friend and he ran because he was afraid to accept you he was afraid to accept your love.

should I make this into a mini series? There’s so much more I wanted to type but didn’t want to make this too long lol

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jess-rewatches-prodigalson · 4 years

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Head Case (S2, E6)

My time-stamped thoughts for this episode. As always I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

0:03 - This clip of Malcolm in the car is from the pilot episode. I was so betrayed by this clip. Full disclosure - I’ve always had a thing for Malcolm’s jacket from the pilot episode. I just love it and I think Tom Payne looks cute in it. BUT - I was betrayed because Malcolm isn’t wearing my favourite jacket in the next scene (I was disappointed but not surprised). Rant about wardrobe over.

0:20 - This is weird to me. In the clip right before this, when Malcolm was coming to Claremont (wearing the awesome jacket) - Malcolm is clearly in emotional distress. He’s not in a good mood. BUT right here, when Malcolm is chatting with Mr. David he seems like he’s in a good mood. Not one of his manic good moods - just a regular good one.

0:32 - Anyone else notice how visibly uncomfortable Jessica AND Malcolm are? This whole Ainsley situation is literally going to destroy them both. :(

0:34 - sooooo Mr. David knows by now right? He has to? ALSO when the European FBI guy shows up in a few episodes this is going to be bad for Malcolm and Jessica right? The FBI guy will probs talk to Mr. David who will be like - oh yeah, they’ve had more ‘family meetings’ in the past 6 months than in the past 20 years.

1:22 - Sooooo this whole family honestly thinks Ainsley’s going to become a serial killer. From the tidbits of her childhood that we’ve seen, the way she treated Malcolm in Q&A, and generally how she acts when she wants to get a story - I’m not surprised. Read my thoughts on older episodes (1x7, 1x20, 2x5), I’ve always thought Ainsley was a sociopath or psychopath. The girl doesn’t show a lot of moral backbone or sympathy for anyone.

1:33 - Wait. Does this montage of Malcolm’s erratic behaviour mean that Malcolm killed someone as a kid? And doesn’t know it? Or is this just a reference to the whole ‘girl in the box’ trauma arc from last season?

1:44 - “I wish I didn’t know that you were a killer.” Anyone else get major flashbacks to the movie Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause? “I wish I had never become Santa at all” then we get an AU for 40 mins? Just me? Cool - excuse my bad taste in Christmas movies.

1:50 - hahaha Martin is so bitter.

2:25 - You know, as much as I love to hate Martin - he has a point. Malcolm loved his Dad (still does whether he wants to admit it or not) in 98′ - why is Malcolm chill with Ainsley killing but not Martin? Is it because with Martin, he found a poor girl tortured in a box but with Ainsley he saw her kill a man that was threatening their family? Or was it because Martin tried to kill Malcolm but Ainsley hasn’t (yet?) **honestly - that would be such an interesting episode - if Ainsley tries to kill Malcolm**

2:33 - THANK YOU. Someone finally thanks Malcolm for trying to protect Ainsley (and in extension Jessica) from the emotional trauma he’s been dealing with since the age of 10. EVEN THOUGH PROTECTING THEM IS MAKING HIS MENTAL STATE WORSE. Seriously - Malcolm is going to snap soon I honestly won’t be surprised if we get some suicidal ideation from him this season (especially if things don’t improve). Look at those big sad puppy dog eyes when Jess thanks him.

2:38 - hahahaha that side-eyed glare directed at Martin.

2:53 - I know Jessica had good intentions here - she’s trying to protect both of her children but honestly, this whole interaction was probably super upsetting for Malcolm. Think about it - BOTH of his parents haven’t tried to have a serious discussion with him at the same time since he was at 10 years old or younger. This interaction is probably bringing up some memories for Malcolm and making him grieve for the childhood he lost all over again.

3:06 - “You’re gross.” followed by a very regal wave at Mr. David. YES. Queen Jessica. <3

3:25 - Malcolm startling JT is pretty freaking cute. Look at how JT’s expression immediately changes from startled to concerned. I don’t blame him. Malcolm gives off major manic energy in this scene. The visit with the parents did not leave him in a good place. Also - Malcolm straight up admitted that he’s had a ‘rough morning’ this boy almost never tells the truth when he’s struggling. He’s fine. He’s always fine.

3:30 - “Rough month.” IS THIS IT? IS THIS ALL I’M GOING TO GET? JT had a baby THREE EPISODES AGO. ‘rough month’ is a reference to the fact that he’s a new dad and he’s struggling with lack of sleep, leaving Tally alone with the baby while he’s a work, being a good husband, adjusting to dad life, ect. RIGHT?!? We’ve literally had no mention of the baby since 2x3 and I’m losing my mind. I just want someone to say, “Hey JT, how’s the baby?” that’s it. I want 5 seconds of dialogue. Just an acknowledgment that the child exists.

3:54 - “Sooo bring me up to speed.” OMG. That smile is both extremely manic and completely adorable. Seriously - why is no one on the team more concerned about Malcolm during this episode? AND WHERE THE EFF IS EDRISA IN THIS SCENE?!? We’ve been robbed.

4:21 - “What? I liked math class.” OMG. JT is a closet math nerd. You can’t take this headcanon away from me.

4:24 - hahahaha look at Malcolm absorbing the new information about JT. He’s like.....yes. I will keep that information for later. Very good. Will pry further.

5:04 - I love Dani. She’s perfect. She can see that Malcolm just checked out into his own horror of a memory. So she gently teases him to bring him back to reality. <3 This is true friendship. <3

6:00 - Was I the only one who thought it was weird that Gil asked Malcolm to help with the canvasing? Like - doesn’t Malcolm always help? Isn’t that part of what he does to build his profile?

6:12 - “KGB agent” Yes. Malcolm is still annoyed that Ainsley was so competitive about a literal murder last episode. I promise you. Ainsley’s probably still annoyed too.

6:26 - This is why Malcolm is considering telling Ainsley the truth. He’s already losing her. May as well rip off the band-aid. She might not react as badly finding out from him as she would finding out by herself.

6:51 - “That is my vagina.” hahahahaha OMG. As a woman I must say: HOW?!?! As someone who adores JT: hahahahahahahaha OMG.

7:23 - “You’re getting a lot of mileage out of that tidbit”. lol. JT gently teasing Malcolm is one of my favourite things. Hands down. Especially since they’ve reached a point in their friendship where Malcolm doesn’t seem scared or offended when JT makes fun of him. They’re acting like brothers and I LOVE IT. <3

7:25 - “That’s the tip of the iceberg my man.” I have no idea why I am so amused by someone calling Malcolm “my man” but I am.

7:36 - “The Bowery Ripper” hahaha the look that JT and Dani exchange when Malcolm starts nerding out.

8:00 - Wendell is kind of creepy. But like a weird, non-threatening creepy?

8:22 - OMG. JT let the vagina sculpture go. hahaha Look at how grossed out Dani is hahahaha she’s like, “Ugh. Men are gross.”

8:30 - This is why I love JT. He knows that that elevator is sketchy as hell. Plus it’s some (less than subtle) foreshadowing for what’s to come in this episode.

8:41 - How did Dani find out he was at Claremont?! Does Mr. David call Gil every time Malcolm visits?!? ......this is my new headcanon. You will have to pry it from my cold dead hands.

9:00 - This is a really cute moment between Dani and Malcolm. Regardless of whether or not you ship Brightwell - it’s really sweet to see Malcolm interacting so honestly with someone. He’s telling Dani the truth about something and she’s not making him feel bad about how messed up his family is or how weird his situation is. She just listens and teases him to make him smile. That is a good friend. IDC how you feel about Brightwell - right now - this is a GOOD FRIEND moment and Malcolm deserves more of them.

9:10 - Annnnnnndddd this is why Brightwell shouldn’t happen (right now). Dani is still hurt that Malcolm doesn’t trust her enough to tell her everything. She still doesn’t completely trust him after what happened last season. A romantic relationship without 100% trust will fail. End of story. They’re great friends but right now they can’t be in a romantic relationship. It’ll end poorly. (Damn, I hope Brightwell is endgame though).

9:38 - hahaha Greta Swan is a perfect comedic relief for the Dani/Malcolm tension we just witnessed. This girl is a little nuts and a lot funny.

10:00 - “Dad’s lived here his whole life” - wow. The writers really left us some big bread crumbs. We go from the scene where someone mentions a serial killer who killed someone (who was abducted from this hotel) in 1963. THEN we find a strange, gossipy woman and her grumpy father who has lived there his whole life. Coincidence? Nah.

10:17 - SERIOUSLY?!? The Whitly home is ENORMOUS. WHY IS JESSICA LETTING AINSLEY WORK IN THE MURDER BASEMENT?!?!?! We literally just found out that Jessica has a SOLARIUM somewhere in this house.

10:40 - “The guy definitely seems like he kills people.” Oh the irony here.

10:55 - “Are you upset with me?” This is soft and I love it. Malcolm is being vulnerable with his little sister and it warms my heart.

11:07 - “Insomnia sucks.” “Who knew?” Again. Irony.

11:18 - “Anything you want to talk about?” This is precious. Malcolm loves Ainsley SO FREAKING MUCH. He has major Dad/Big brother/concerned school counsellor energy here and I’m here for it.

11:38 - Malcolm’s soooo going to replay this conversation in his head about a million times. He’s going to blame himself for Ainsley’s murder victim of this episode. He’s going to play the “what-if” game. What if - he told her the truth here? Would she still have killed someone tonight?

11:52 - Look at Ainsley’s face here. She seems sort of confused and comforted? Like maybe the fractions of memories that she’s admitting to having are making her believe that she killed Endicott and it scares her. Malcolm telling her otherwise is probably comforting on some level. It’s helping her convince herself that she’s done nothing wrong.

12:25 - According to IMDB - this isn’t the episode LDP directed SO WHY IS THERE SO LITTLE GIL CONTENT IN THIS EPISODE?!?!?!

12:27 - What the hell is the puddle on the floor btw? Is it paint? Tar? Blood? I thought construction hadn’t started on the hotel yet?

14:14 - Malcolm. You. Are. A. Moron. Why go towards the creepy elevator that opened by itself? Why did you think that was a good idea?

14:29 - The Bowery Ripper is pretty strong for an old guy. I mean, Malcolm isn’t that big and he was caught off guard but still.

14:38 - I wanted this scene to be reality SO SO BADLY. I don’t even care about the Brightwell interaction in this scene. Malcolm is on a hospital bed. With an ice pack. I could’ve watched 45 minutes of “Malcolm in the hospital” content. The fact that this boy didn’t spend longer than a 30 second scene in the hospital is a CRIME. Why does Fedak hate giving us the whump aftercare?!? WHY?!?! Doesn’t he know like half the fandom LIVES FOR IT?!?

14:40 - You know how I knew this was the start of Malcolm’s AU dream? 2 reasons: 1) Dani has her hand on the ice pack on Malcolm’s head, even though he totally doesn’t need her help to hold the ice pack to his head. 2) GIL ISN”T HERE. .....although this episode did us dirty with the lack of Gil content (I miss Papa!Gil so much)

14:46 - There’s something about dream JT. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Real and dream JT are almost identical. But dream JT seems to be more open with Malcolm? IDK - he’s more relaxed around Malcolm? I can’t quite describe it. Did anyone else notice that there was just something a little bit different about dream JT? Not even in a bad way. Just different.

15:15 - “Noooo she said it could’ve been worse. Not the same.” hahaha YES DANI. Good looking out. Call out this boy for neglecting his health.

15:24 - This whole scene where Dani and Malcolm do a joint interrogation was awesome. They were talking pretty fast which I found a little distracting but JT said it best, “They were on FIRE”. One thing I REALLY liked about the scene was the dynamic between Dani and Malcolm. Neither one of them was really taking a lead in the interrogation. They were equal partners and I think that says a lot about Malcolm’s romantic desires. He doesn’t want to dominate anyone. He doesn’t want to be taken advantage of. He just wants someone he can trust and respect. Someone who will trust and respect him. He wants a partner. An equal partner. I think that’s a really healthy desire for anyone in search of a relationship.

16:12 - an affair? Did we know that Lyle and/or Katrina were married?!? If they weren’t married it would just be a relationship. Not an affair.

17:01 - Is this honestly the first time Dani has called Malcolm by his first name? In 26 episodes? It must be right? Because I swear I was so shocked my heart skipped a beat (also my Brightwell heart melted but that’s a whole different thing).

17:06 - .....so in Malcolm’s dream does he still work for Major Crimes? Is JT running the department? I need some more details here.

17:12 - Soft!JT <3 <3 <3 How cute is it that in Malcolm’s AU dream, JT (and Dani) don’t actually change (in terms of personality). Their roles in his life just intensify. Dani becomes his significant other and JT becomes a much closer friend/brother. It’s precious. <3 <3 <3

17:52 - Something about the fact that Jessica isn’t drinking liquor in the AU is hilarious and depressing to me. It’s funny because, well, it just tickles me. It’s depressing because Malcolm understands that Jessica drinks to dull the pain. In this AU, she isn’t in pain. She’s happy. Therefore, she doesn’t need alcohol. I don’t know about you but the fact that Malcolm’s subconscious wanted his mom to be happy so badly that she became (more or less) sober - is heartbreaking and heartwarming all at the same time.

18:11 - “No one in this family is scared of a little blood right?” The irony here is THICK.

19:23 - The fact that Ainsley is a doctor just like Martin in Malcolm’s AU is terrifying and hilarious. This whole “I watched Ainsley kill a man” thing is really destabilizing Malcolm’s questionable mental health.

19:27 - “Please Ainsley is the talented one. I’m a distance second.” ....does this mean that Endicott isn’t the first person Ainsley has killed? Does this mean subconsciously Malcolm somehow thinks that Ainsley is a better serial killer than Martin?

19:56 - “No phones at dinner okay?” Something about the way Martin is looking at Malcolm at this moment and Martin’s tone of voice made me think - “Shit. Martin’s still a serial killer in Malcolm’s AU.” Especially since they Ainsley literally just announced to the room that he’s getting a from Claremont.

20:06 - Yep. That’s a nightmare. From the back, Claremont!Gil probably looked like Martin circa mid-2010s for Malcolm.

20:09 - Look idc who you ship on this show. But I will fight you if you don’t think that Malcolm being comforted after a nightmare by someone he loves is the sweetest thing ever. Look at how Dani gently rubs his arm and back. Ugh. This is the kind of safety Malcolm DESERVES.

20:43 - Dani lying on Malcolm’s chest. <3 It just makes me so happy. Not even necessarily because it’s Dani (although I do ship Brightwell as end game) but because Malcolm’s subconscious is showing us his ideal relationship and we don’t see anything wild or questionable - we just see G-rated cuddling. And damn if that doesn’t say a lot about how much Malcolm just wants to be loved.

20:53 - .......Can we have a full episode’s worth of footage where Malcolm is unconscious on the floor? I know I’m a basket case but it would make my whump heart so happy.....even happier if that footage was immediately followed by 40 mins of hospital care/comfort footage.

20:59 - I know that time has sort of slowed down for the purpose of plot in this episode but ngl - every time we saw the elevator approaching passed out Malcolm all I could think was “this is the slowest elevator in the world.”

21:26 - Malcolm is so so relaxed and comfortable in this scene. I want him to be this happy forever.

22:07 - “You deserve all of it.” Malcolm subconsciously just wants permission to be happy. He doesn’t think he deserves to be happy (especially after Endicott). That little revelation broke my heart. Also the Brightwell kiss was adorable. Dani takes control because, Malcolm wants to feel wanted and this is how his subconscious is manifesting that desire. I will argue that Malcolm doesn’t necessarily want a relationship where his partner takes charge or dominates him. He made coffee of both of them. They’re living in his apartment. They’re having calm, mature, adult conversations. They are both equal partners in his dream relationship.

22:45 - Dani isn’t scared of Malcolm when his hand starts shaking. She isn’t judging him. She’s just concerned. <3

22:47 - “Existential ennui”? Soooo much french in this episode. Damn. “Jamais vu”, “Quelle suprise”. Now “ennui”.

23:35 - “I don’t fit your profile.” ....am I expected to believe that Malcolm didn’t realize this was a dream until this moment? Dani calling him “Malcolm Whitly” in the last scene wasn’t a red flag? Or the fact that Ainsley is a doctor. Or that Martin isn’t in Claremont? Or that Jessica isn’t drinking booze by the bucket? I mean, I know he has a head injury but these are big red flags.

24:15 - Sooooo is Wendell dead irl? Because this is technically a dream.

25:02 - “I thought we were looking for an inexperienced psychopath. A first time killer.”......this is him projecting about Ainsley right? Am I overthinking this? And now he says, “I was wrong”. Is that supposed to suggest that Malcolm thinks Ainsley has killed someone before Endicott?

25:07 - “The blows are confident. They were having fun.”.....couldn’t the same be said about how Ainsley stabbed Endicott? They were definitely confident stabs (plus a confident throat slitting).

25:14 - “We’re looking for a serial killer.” Istg the writers are hinting that Ainsley is a serial killer (or will become one soon).

25:27 - Mr. David appears in the AU but Edrisa doesn’t. We were ROBBED.

26:07 - I’m not the only one who thinks that beard makes Gil look like a werewolf right?

26:33 - Claremont!Gil is creepy. LDP’s performance here is really really good. Also - I hate it. Because serial killer Gil is just not my Gil and it upsets me to see Gil chained to a wall.

26:56 - Sooooo in the AU “The Surgeon” is still at large right? ....you’d think Malcolm would be trying to solve that case with Dani and JT. You know, an active prolific serial killer in New York?

27:34 - The way that Martin, Gil, and Malcolm interact in this scene is really interesting to me. In a lot of ways, this isn’t an AU. Think about it.

In the dream: Gil is frantically trying to convince Malcolm that Martin is a serial killer. In a way, Gil is trying to protect Malcolm from Martin.

In reality: Gil just shoots Malcolm disapproving looks when he mentions seeing Martin. Gil desperately tries to protect Malcolm from Martin.

In the dream: Martin is trying to convince Malcolm that Gil is a monster. He’s trying to convince Malcolm that he’s a Good father. That he would never hurt Malcolm. That he loves Malcolm.

In reality - Martin is the same.

The only main difference between AU!Martin, AU!Gil, and their real counterparts is their temperaments. AU!Martin has Gil’s calm, comforting, and rational temperament while AU!Gil has Martin’s angry, manic, and controlling temperament.

What is the same between the AU characters and their real counterparts?

Martin is still a manipulative killer.

Gil still shoots Malcolm looks of concern (27:45).

Gil and Martin still hate each other.

28:30 - Even dream Martin tries to gaslight Malcolm.

28:56 - “You can always count on Dad.” ....is this how Malcolm really feels about Martin subconsciously? It kind of makes sense? Who did Malcolm turn to when Ainsley did the unthinkable? Not Gil or Jessica. Malcolm said it in 1x12 - (I’m paraphrasing) “The child in me thought he cared. Loved me even.” I think there’s still a part of Malcolm that believes that. Or at least a part of Malcolm that desperately wants to believe that.

29:17 - “I’ve never been to a crime scene before.” That’s because you create the crime scene, Martin. In all versions of reality.

29:20 - annnnnnd AU Martin shares regular Martin’s weird fascination with Dani.

31:00 - JT being buddy-buddy with Martin is hands down the most horrifying part of the AU.

31:10 - “I think he’s having a psychotic break.” ......I want this to be foreshadowing so so so badly. I think it would be so interesting to see how the team, Jessica, Ainsley, and even Martin deal with Malcolm just having a total breakdown. Maybe not a full psychotic break. Maybe a nervous breakdown? Or he succumbs to his suicidal ideation? Probably a little too dark for network TV though.

31:34 - “I’m very protective of her and her boots.” Does Malcolm see himself as the Bowery Ripper, trying to protect Ainsley as opposed to his daughter? Or is the Bowery Ripper supposed to be a metaphor for Martin protecting Ainsley? Is Malcolm going to take the fall for Ainsley and all her murders?!?

32:45 - “Why did you kill again? After all these years.” istg this is hinting that Ainsley killed someone as a kid and Martin knows about it.

33:00 - “I can’t let my daughter know what I was.” .....is the Bowery Ripper supposed to be Ainsley? Is Ainsley killing people to try and protect Malcolm? Ugh. I’m totally overthinking this.

33:02 - Even in his dream, Malcolm can’t bring himself to kill his father. Wether that is by cutting off contact with Martin irl or letting the Bowery Ripper kill him in the AU.

33:07 - Actually though - why doesn’t Malcolm carry a gun IRL? We know he’s trained to use one. We saw him use one in the pilot on a case for the FBI. Is there some sort of NYPD rule about consultants carrying weapons? Is it a rule that Gil has imposed on Malcolm? Is it a rule that Malcolm has imposed on himself? A mixture? I want to know.

33:38 - OMG. Is Malcolm going to try and kill Ainsley?!?! What a twist that would be. AU Malcolm just killed a killer. He doesn’t seem to feel bad about it and he agrees with Martin that “everything is okay now”.

33:55 - This hug deeply moved me. Malcolm is fully aware that this hug isn’t real but he looks so content to be hugged by his father. Malcolm is finally getting a proper hug. <3 It honestly makes me wonder what Malcolm would do IRL for his father’s approval though. He’s clearly sooo desperate for Martin to love him. Who knows what Martin will be able to convince Malcolm to do in this season? Malcolm’s not all that mentally stable right now and he’s really vulnerable emotionally. I’m worried.

34:26 - “Not that it’s a competition.” ....yep. Ainsley wants to be better than Malcolm even in Malcolm’s own subconscious.

35:00 - Heart. Breaking. Watching Ainsley, Martin, and Jessica tell Malcolm how good they think Dani is for him breaks my heart. Look at how happy Malcolm looks. Look at how desperately Malcolm wants this to be real. Ugh. My heart is shattered.

35:20 - “You’re the best, big brother.” Even Malcolm’s subconsious knows that he’s an excellent big brother. Seriously, I love my younger brother but I don’t think I could ever cover up a murder for him. Never mind dispose of the body. Maybe I would? IDK the situation has never come up (thankfully).

35:25 - .....aaannnnnndd we’re back to the Girl in the Box.

35:58 - “Why would you ever want to leave?” “Because it’s all a lie.” Isn’t Malcolm living a lie IRL too? He’s pretending that Ainsley is a law-abiding citizen. He’s pretending that he isn’t an accomplice in a murder. He’s living in constant fear because of his secrets. They’re going to destroy him. This is why I think a suicide attempt is a possibility for this season. This trauma is a lot bigger (in some ways) than last season’s. Plus - Malcolm has a lot of pre-existing trauma. This could be the metaphoric straw that breaks the camel’s back.

36:45 - “Even in my wildest dream. I’m still a detective. I need to seek the truth. No matter how painful.” That’s it. That’s Malcolm’s character in a nutshell. “Traumatized boy who intentionally puts himself through more trauma for the sake of seeking the truth.”

37:01 - “You’re right. I need to work on that.”.......if Malcolm tells Gil and/or the team about Ainsley next episode I will lose my mind.

37:15 - TOM PAYNE. YOU ABSOLUTE TREASURE. THIS IS SUCH A GREAT PERFORMANCE. THOSE UNSHED TEARS. THAT DESPERATE ANGER. THAT HOPELESSNESS AND DESPAIR. <3 <3 <3 <3

38:21 - Look, I’m a mechanical engineering student (not an expert) but if that was a wooden stick like I think it is - that would’ve NEVER stopped an elevator (at least, not long enough for Malcolm to escape). But I’ll overlook it for whump. Because Malcolm has a head wound and I’m loving it.

38:33 - I’ve rewatched this clip of Malcolm with a bloody face meeting JT and Dani about 50 times (wish I was exaggerating that number). There is something so gorgeous about this scene. I mean - the fact that Malcolm is clearly in physical and emotional pain is enough to make my whump heart sing but it’s more than that. Listen to the genuine concern in JT’s voice when he says, “You okay?”. Look at Dani’s concerned face. Listen to how soft and desperate Malcolm’s voice is when he says, “When was the last time I talked to you?” Look at how concerned and confused JT and Dani are when Malcolm says, “I know who the killer is.” They’re not scared of Malcolm. They’re scared for Malcolm. Malcolm just showed up covered in blood, he can’t walk straight, he’s clearly confused, and now he’s claiming that he’s solved the case. They’re worried about him and they have every right to be. Listen to how broken Malcolm sounds when he says, “Long story.” <3 <3 <3 I’m in love with this scene.

39:19 - “Are you sure about this?” “I have no idea.” This. Is. Important. JT and Dani have every reason to believe that this old man isn’t a killer but Malcolm’s head injury is making him confused. BUT they choose to trust Malcolm (or at the very least, humour him). They trust him enough to take a risk on him and I think that’s beautiful. I think that’s exactly what Malcolm needed after his nightmare of an AU dream. He needed to know that they care about him IRL. I hope he notices their behaviour despite the head injury.

39:35 - Malcolm puts the skull down with his ungloved hand. I’m blaming the head injury.

39:55 - Look this was a really moving scene. The parallel of Malcolm arresting a serial killer in front of the serial killer’s child and Martin being arrested in front of Malcolm is haunting. HOWEVER, when that old man stood up from the wheelchair my stupid brain went “THAT ASSHOLE NEVER EVEN NEEDED THE WHEELCHAIR?!?”.....even though he literally wasn’t in a wheelchair in Malcolm’s dream.

40:40 - WE WERE ROBBED. I want to see the scene where Malcolm explains his dream to the team. I want to see GIL. WHERE THE EFF IS GIL IN THIS EPISODE?!?! FURTHERMORE - I WANT THE IRL VERSION OF “MALCOLM GOES TO THE HOSPITAL FOR A HEAD INJURY” SCENE. WTF FEDAK. GIVE ME THE AFTERCARE.

40:47 - “That man will be buried in a turtleneck.” hahahahahaha OMG. Iconic.

41:27 - “Goodnight Malcolm.” <3 <3 <3 She called him Malcolm IRL. Excuse me while I go and stoke my slow burn Brightwell fire.

41:36 - “Goodnight.” This is the face of a man who just accepted the fact that he will never be happy. Malcolm honestly doesn’t think he deserves to be in a relationship. Especially with someone as beautiful, kind, and talented as Dani.

41:40 - THAT HAT. Was this really in Season 1?!?! I don’t remember it? But holy hell - I want to see Malcolm wear it. Like now. It’s going to make me laugh. I can feel it.

41:53 - Immediately you can hear that something is wrong in Ainsley’s voice. She sounds distracted, dissociated, and scared.

42:14 - Give. Tom. Payne. An. Emmy. Listen to his voice breaking here. He’s so close to tears and it’s genuinely beautiful. Such an astounding performance.

42:51 - I honestly think Ainsley is shaking her head because she realizes that she made a mistake. She came to Malcolm because she thought he killed Endicott. She thought that he’d be able to understand. That he’d be able to help her because he had committed the same crime she just committed. She was wrong. He can help her - but legally, he really shouldn’t.

43:08 - Look. A new scene for Malcolm’s night terrors.

43:15 - Yep. This is going to drive Malcolm into a mental breakdown. This is bad.

43:20 - There’s a part of me that wants Malcolm to tattle on Ainsley. Just so he doesn’t have to keep the secret any longer. The secret is killing him. Telling won’t make the situation any better though. Gil and the team will react horribly and it’ll make Malcolm feel like garbage. Plus I can only imagine how the press would scrutinize the Whitly’s again. It won’t be good any way you slice it.

I have a love/hate relationship with this episode. On one hand - it’s the cannon AU episode that every fanfiction lover dreams of. It’s also a really compelling episode complete with some excellent acting and great insight into Malcolm’s psyche. HOWEVER: 1) not enough Gil, 2) WHERE IS MY WHUMP AFTERCARE?, and 3) I wanted to see Malcolm at the base of that elevator for longer. The whump wasn’t prolonged enough for my sick soul.

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nightowlfandom · 4 years

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Vampire! Min Yoongi!- Making A Mess

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

CHECK OUT MY PROMPT LIST HERE!

....I don’t even want to admit where this went or where my head was when i was typing.

Disclaimers- Creepy Dudes, Violence...yeaaah

Leggo!

...

Ever since Yoongi had changed you into one of his kind, your love for mischief had grown a lot. You were always getting into trouble at the craziest times. Most of this trouble wasn’t even your fault, however the outcome...one could argue that you may have played a hand in. With your human friends trying to keep you grounded, you found it easier to hold back. Sometimes, however...it didn’t really work.

“Babe, do you really have to go tonight?” Yoongi stood behind you whilst you finished styling your hair.

“I’m the maid of honor! Of course I have to go!” you scoffed in reply.

“I know babe. it’s just-....human clubs are just so-”

“It’ll be fine.” you waved him off. “Why are you so worried about?”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” he wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning his head to rest on your shoulder. “It’s just...what if some asshole tries anything with you.”

“Yoongi.” you said in a warning voice.

“I’m just saying...what if I’m not there to watch?” you could feel him smile into your skin. “Watch you tear them limb from limb.” he chuckled deviously. “It gets me going y’know.” His fingers traveled under your blouse. “Baby...” he whispered in your ear.

“Yoongi.” you warned again, feeling his fingers fumble with the hem of your skirt. “We don’t have t-time.”

“Please?” he cooed. You felt the pads of his fingers against your little nub. “Just a little bit?” he completely pressed himself up against you.

“You got 30 seconds.” you grunted.

Just as you said that, Yoongi completely turned you around, crashing his mouth over your. His tongue wasting no time in exploring your mouth. His fingers were replaced by his clothed groin, basically humping you. He had raised your skirt up in the process.

5..4..3..2..

Yoongi stopped himself right on the 90-second mark, leaving you both in a heaving mess. You had regretting not giving him 5 minutes.

“How about you come tonight? The girls are always asking where you are anyways.” you said breathlessly.

“Hm...Maybe I will.” he began kissing up your neck. “How long has it been since we went dancing together.”

“...Since we first met.” you replied sheepishly.

“Hm, when you were my little human.” he hummed. “Remember when we first met?”

“How could I not.” you replied dreamily. “We have time to reminisce later.”

“Alright alright. Come on then.” Yoongi kissed your temple and led you back in the bedroom to get ready

...

“This one’s for the future bride to be.” you lifted another shot in the air. A round of cheers went around you as you kicked back the alcohol.

“Damn Y/N, you’re still not drunk yet?” One of your friends said. “How do you and Yoongi do it.”

Well being undead helps...you used to have to have a normal sleep schedule too. Now all you ever did was...have sex with Yoongi, kill worthless people, make out with Yoongi, drink blood...have more sex, have- Okay you get it, you barely slept unless it was a nap or something.

You were about to respond when you saw something out of the corner of your eye. A girl and a guy who you assumed to be her date for the night was being pestered by some random man. Obviously drunk. The guy looked irritated and the girl looked scared. Yet they didn’t do anything to stop it.

“Y/N...” Yoongi looked in the direction of where you were glaring. “What are you thinking?”

“You guys!” you got the attention the the table! “I have to go to the bathroom!”

“You want us to come with you?”

“Pfft, nah. I just need to call my boss.” you lied. You gave a knowing smile to Yoongi as you stood up.

“...Y/N.” you heard him chuckle under his breath. Once you were out of sight from the table, you walked over the commotion.

“Why are you with this clown?” the drunk slurred. “I could give it to you better than this asshole.”

“You wanna leave us alone dick-face?”

You saw the glare of something in his hands. He had snuck a weapon into the club.

“Let’s try this again, why doesn’t the lady come with me and I won’t cut your face.”

Before the boy could get up to defend himself, you made your presence known.

“Hey handsome.” you got the attention of the man. “Wanna go somewhere?”

“Damn girl...” he bit his lips, completely forgetting about the other two. “You like it rough, babe?”

“You’ll find out” you looked over at the couple When they saw you, they just knew. With a wink, you grabbed the asshole by the shoulder and dragged him along.

You led the man to the back room where you looked at the bouncer.

“All I need is 30 minutes.” you had a death grip on the unknowing man.

“For you, it’s on the house.” he nodded. “Have fun.”

“Oh trust me...I will.”

...

You pinned the man down by the neck, straddling him in the process.

“I don’t like low-life punk ass bitches like you.” you giggled with delight despite the anger very evident in your eyes. “Do you like it rough, babe?” you spat the creeps earlier words back in his face.

The attacker must have noticed the shift in your eyes to a deep red because he looked scared. “What the fuck are you, man?!”

“Y/N...”

You turned your head for a bit to look up at Yoongi who wore a smirk on his face. How he got into the VIP section, you’ll never know. He probably bribed the bouncer. Or maybe he knew the guy.

“I’d look away if I were you.” you said in a slight baby-ish voice. “I’ve been a bad girl.”

“Nah babe...I want to enjoy this show.” He bit his lip, leaning against the door. “Come on babe. Don’t stop at my expense.”

You gave an innocent shrug and looked back down at your victim.

“Y-you’re not gonna kill me, stupid bitch!”

“Hm..how rude.” you bore your fangs. You let out another laugh before you dug your head in the crook his the man’s neck. Your fangs pierced his flesh. You could feel the delicious blood touch your tongue and send off all sorts of alarms in each and every nerve. It made you bite down even harder.

“YOU CRAZY BITCH!”

“Only a little!” you pulled away so he could witness his own life being ended. With another primal growl, you drove your fangs right back into his chest, wanting to put him out of his misery faster. He thrashed for a moment, only a moment before going completely still. You slowly stood to your feet as Yoongi walked up behind you. You turned around to find him smiling knowingly.

“You’re always getting into trouble, babe.”

“I can’t help it. Trouble always follows me.”

“I have a mind to fuck the red right out of those eyes of yours.” he said sweetly, trailing his fingers under your chin. “Fuck you look so hot.”

Without another word, Yoongi crashed his mouth over yours. He could taste the blood on your lips, and it sent him absolutely wild. He didn’t care that your entire front was covered in the red, sticky liquid. He began searching your body for a zipper, or even buttons in an attempt not completely tear your clothes to shreds.

His resolve as well as his patience instantly wore thin in an instant and you were soon met by the sound of fabric tearing. Yoongi hand torn your shirt from collar to bottom hem. Before you could protect, Yoongi had sunk his teeth right into your right shoulder. You let out a delighted gasp, feeling his hands grab your ass.

“I had a feeling this was gonna happen.” you grunted under the feelings of his sharp teeth suckling your skin. “F-fuck.” you moaned. When you were human, it probably would have been more painful, but now that you were just like him...it was almost as pleasurable as ‘the real thing’.

“What can I say, watching you tear that man to shreds got me off.” he licked up the fresh blood he drew. “You wanna get out of here? We never got to finish earlier.”

“And leave a dead body behind?” you raised an eyebrow.

“We’ll clean it up before they even know.” he rolled his eyes. “Plus you’re already half dressed so...”

89 notes · View notes

tellywoodtrash · 4 years

Text

immj2 27+28.11.20 lbs

27.11.20

lmao i was gonna get suuuuuuper mad at kabir for being in her room but then he’s like:

“hi.”

....................... and i instantly snorted happily. vishal is realllllllllly just so likable that i just can’t with him anymore. i love when adorable marshmallows like him and shrenu play evil. you just cannot fucking hate them!

blah blah humaara kamra, mera kamra nonsense.

shaadi ka joda gift. with that tackyyyyyyyyyyyyassss KABIR KI RIDDHIMA written on it. main marr jaooon par kabhi bhi aisa kuch na pehnoon, no matter how much i love the guy.

“kuch hi derr mein tum VANSH ki riddhima se, KABIR ki riddhima ho jaogi.” coz even in 2020, women are nothing but chattel to be passed on from one man to another.

riddhima is thinking fat chance, bitch.

telling him she’ll never wear red for him, coz “laal pyaar ka rang hota hai, aur main sirf ek insaan se pyaar karti hoon, aur woh hai vansh.”

“toh yeh bhi vansh ke paise se hi liya hai.” lmaooooooooo

ghani beizzati by saying she’s already bought a joda for herself, a white one. which honestly looks muchhhhhhhhhh nicer than the red one acc. to me but ok.

vansh checking his account balance and seeing that there’s charges for two wholeass designer jodas bought for a shaadi that’s not even gonna happen:

anyway kabir’s like ok who cares, colour doesn’t matter, shaadi toh tumhari honi hai mujhse blah blah.

kabir doesn’t like mandap setup. coz all white. and apparently aryan was in charge of it? coz he’s getting dragged by the collar for it.

good. i don’t feel any sympathy.

ishani is like dekh liya nateeeja iss loserrrrrrrr ki khushaamad karne ka? when has vansh ever treated you like this no matter how mad he’s gotten at you? he always protected you.

behen kyun bhains ke aage been bajaa rahi ho? yeh manhoos baaz nahi aana.

ishani flounced away and aryan’s now vowing revenge against kabir. abbe yaar, tera list toh kabhi khata hi nahi hota.

why the fuck are these ppl soooooooooo dressed up for a wedding they don’t even want to participate in? itna toh main apni genuine shaadi ke liye naa sajjjjjjoon.

suddenly ishani is allllll about bado ka sammaaan and parampara, pratishthaaaaa, anushaasan and all. lmao ok?????

tod di choodi uski kalaayi par. jaisa bhai, waisiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii hi behen.

shaadi mubarak indeed. lol.

riddhima’s calling vihaan and freakingout ki woh paise leke bhaag gaya. you are so fucking stupid sis, why would you give him that much fucking money BEFORE HE EVEN SHOWED THE FUCK UP??????????

“tum thodi weird nahi ho????” bhai obvious sawaal naa pooch.

anyway he’s like calm yo tits, untwist your panties, i’ll get there on time.

kabir instead of fixing his maatam waala mandap is back skulking around vihaan’s container box house. ladki ko shaadi karni bhi nahi hai and she’s sitting there ready from 3 hours before, aur yeh, jissko shaadi ki utaavli chadhi thi, is out doing randomassssss jasoosi, coz that’s the priority rn. sounds legit.

VIHAAN THE DUMBASS TOOK OFF THE CCTV CAMERA AND PACKED IT. GOD YOU’RE ALLLLLLLLLLL FUCKING AQAL KE DUSHMAN IN THIS SHOW.

kabir sneaking in with gunnnnnnn.

how the fuck am i supposed to take him seriously with these bachchon waale sports shoes?!!?!?!? GIVE THE MAN HIS COMBAT BOOTS BACK SO HELP ME GODDDDDD

he’s peeking in the door and making some threatening statements about oh ho yeh hai tumhara plan, main sab khatammmmm kar doonga and all, but we never see wtf he’s looking at and this show is fulllllllllllll of red herrings, so........ idc.

riddhima putting on previous mangalsutra for this wedding and..... guts toh hai bandi main. badiii dheent hai.

mummy coming and saying blah blah usse utaar do this is your new mangalsutra and lmaoooooooooooooo

this is the tackiest fucking shit i’ve ever seen in my life. what’s with their obsession of putting their name on everything!?!!!?!!? what are you, an eight grader?!?!!?!?

anyway, bored with this ainvayi ki dhamki waala scene, fwding.

blah blah 2 ghante mein kaunsa chamatkaar hona hai and all......... WHY ARE YOU PPL SO DAMN OVERCONFIDENT????

meanwhile kabir is back and now harassing dadi. KISI KO TOH AKELA CHOD DE.

actually, lmao, i’d love to see him go try this shit on ishani and angre. it would be fucking glooooooooooorious lololololol.

anyway, he wants dadi’s aashirwaad in the form of vansh’s saafa (pagdi/turban). ABBE YAAAAAAAAAAR. USKE UNDERWEAR DRAWER SE JAAKE USKI CHADDI BHI LEKE PEHEN. ITNAAAAAAAAA WANNABE VILLAIN MAINE AAJ TAK NAHI DEKHA. HADHHHHHHH HAI.

chikni chupdi baatein ki i’m just trying to be the son vansh was to this house. if i wear his saafa, it’s like uski aashirwaad aur duaein meri saath hongi.

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO PICTURE VANSH’S FACE IS LITERALLY LIKE

anyway dadi is like really really fucking hurt by this and my god i wanna fucking murder kabir.

she’s literally telling him to pick anything else, it’s vansh’s nishaani and he’s like aap sab ke paas koi na koi nishaani hai, mere paas apne bhai ki koiiiiiiiii nishaani nahi hai blah blah and oh my god, this is truly the most villainous thing kabir has done, being thisssssss fucking emotionally manipulative. the absolute fuckkkkkkkk.

ugh anyway long story short. baandh diya dadi ne ukso saafa. bloody nonsense.

poor dadi phoot phoot ki ro rahi hai ki she’s losing vansh bit by bit. awwwww man it’s genuinely heartbreaking.

riddhima has witnessed this and is about to fuckkkkkk shit up lolll.

lmaoooooooooooo dayum.

wtf is your problem, i’m marrying you, why are you torturing the fam like this blah blah. kabir like physical, emotional, moral sabbbbbbbbbbb tarah se tod ke rakh doonga inn sabko and ugh god i just really fucking hate him.

but damn he just looks really good in this sherwani and hair all mussed up.

anyway he’s doing some real messed-up, genocidal dictator kinda talk and phew. is just askinggggggggg to be murdered.

and then lmao he abruptly switched to “bohut khoobsurat lag rahi ho tum; time kya ho raha hai???? ooooooh ek ghanta baaki hai.” and i legittttttt lol’d at the way he delivered it. I HATE VISHAL FOR NOT LETTING ME HATE KABIR IN PEACEEEEEEEEE.

riddhima panic-calling vihaan, wants to go check on him. mummy ne pakad liya, room mein badh kar diya coz K told her to handle riddhima’s bhagodi dulhan ways.

great. riddhima’s having a breakdown.

motivational call from the choti sarrdaarni. she kinda just looks like a tall baby shivangi joshi had with aditi dev sharma????

le, doosre show waale heroine ko bhi pata hai kabir kameena hai, iss show mein 3 episode pehle pata chala issko.

ok is the choti sarrdaarni delusional and having a make-believe phone call with the protagonist of her favt tv show IMMJ, coz she knows waaaaay more details than even the people in this house know about the plot and what went down. she’s talking about how vansh aakhri pal tak ladta raha and riddhima’s like huh, news to me, i just got there in time to see him spout some ghatiya shayari and then throw himself off a cliff.

anyway riddhima seems to have gotten strength from this deranged phone call, so............. good for her, i guess.

———————————————————————

28.11.20

next ep just abruptly started with kabir and mummy in riddhima’s room threatening her and i just.......... dude, whatever. i’m just gonna skim through this ep coz i know it’s just filler shit till literally the last 1 minute.

OK HE’S MANHANDLING HER AGAIN AND FUCKKKKKKKKKKK

dang helly looked evennnnnnnn younger in the first eps. legit baby face. at least now they’ve aged her up a lil with the makeup and styling.

he’s saying don’t bother waiting, no one is gonna come. OH BOY. VIHAAN ARE YOU OK????? ARE YOU OK??????? ARE YOU OK VIHAAN?!?!?!?!?

cue riddhima’s panic attack.

lmao kabir telling mummy ki iss shaadi mein ab koi speedbreaker nahi hai lol. heavy foreshadowing that ab se everything that can go wrong is definitely gonna go wrong.

suddenly at the speed of light kabir is back at the container home in his sherwani and saafa and holding vihaan at gunpoint????

oh. sapna tha riddhima ka. ouff. this stupid show has tooooo fucking many dream sequences.

someone give this bitch a klonopin coz watching her is making my anxiety shoot up.

mummy comes into room 2 min later and sees riddhima sleeping ghoongattttt and all. SURE. NOT SUS AT ALL THAT A BRIDE DYING OF ANXIETY WOULD TAKE A NAP 30 MIN BEFORE THE CEREMONY IN FULLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL OUTFIT. TOTALLY A THING THAT HAPPENS.

DUDE SHE PULLED A NURSE WAALI HARKAT AGAIN. LMAOOOOOOOOO. KISKO SULAAAAAKE AAYI HAI TU, AAFAT?!?!?!!?

askdjasldkjlsakdjlaskjdlaskjdlaskjdlkas. ALSO THE FACT THAT MUMMY RECOGNIZED HER FROM HER PRESS ON NAILS. LMAOOOOOOOOOO I CAN’T EVEN WITH THIS SHOW.

LMAO RIDDHIMA YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR

lol mummy has to call and give bad news to kabir. and i am sad we didn’t get to see his volcanic reaction, which no doubt would have been epicccccccccccc.

10 MINUTES TO THE CEREMONY. VR MANSION IS 20 MIN AWAY FROM THE CONTAINER HOUSE (AS STATED BY V BEFORE) AND THIS SIS IS...........

RE DEVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

she finally got in and the whole place is empty. he practically lives in a storage unit, you telling me he went and moved his stuff to a whole different storage unit?????

new freakout within the pre-existing panic attack: kabir ne vihaan ko saaf kar diya ya vihaan paise leke bhaag gaya??

cut to fb: riddhima asking V all earnestly ki tum dhoka toh nahi doge na????

HIS ASS ACTUALLY SAID, LEMME TELL YOU A FACT ABOUT ME: I LOVE MY MOM. I SWEAR ON HER I WON’T BETRAY YOU.

AND SHE STILL DIDN’T GET THAT HE’S VANSH. MY GODDDDDDDD.

she’s like nope vihaan gave mummy promise so he won’t give dhoka. ah yes, the most sacred and inviolable of promises.

toh bacha alternative ki kabir has vihaan. 4th simultaneous panic attack in a panic attack. someone sedate this bitch.

aaaaaaaaaand kabir has sent a video of a bomb in VR mansion below the mandap. great.

and now he’s calling to say ki get your ass back home or imma scramble these eggheads called the raisinghanias.

lmao the bomb is counting forwards instead of backwards????

mummy saying MY BETA SMAAAAAARTEST. haan, tha..... kisi zamaane mein. ab nihaayati bewakoof ho gaya hai.

lmao kabir accosted a passing by angre and is like you need to be loyal to me as you were to vansh and lol angre’s like saaf saaf shabdon mein, fuckkkkkkk off.

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO KABIR WENT TO HURL THE NAARIYAL AT ANGRE’S RETREATING HEAD HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA MAN HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO HATE HIM HE’S SO FUCKING HILARIOUS

lmao he goes to phodofy naariyal and:

abhi bappa ko huullllllllll de raha hai. overconfidence ki hadh toh dekho.

riddhima is back and hunting for the bomb and kabir comes bouncing the fake bomb around and she’s legit like TUMNE MUJHSE JHOOOOOT BOLA?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!? lol bitch, seriously???? because he’s been the paragon of truth and virtue up until this moment??????

“apna hulia sudhaar ke aao. 5 min mein mrs. kabir banne waali ho. thoda standard toh match karo.” lmaooooo the sasss and disdaaaaaain he said that withhhhhh. boy knows he’s looking damn good today.

anyway blah blah shaadi has started. dadi is sad af. to the point where ishani is looking really concerned. i really love this soft ishani.

“kaash samay ka paiyya ulta ghoom jaaye aur mera vansh wapis aa jaaye mere paas.”

dadi, shoulda asked for world peace instead. just the one wish you had and you wasted it on getting your hellion pota back.

some more in-room threatening of riddhima by mummy. while riddhima is throwing out last minute prayers to bappa and vihaan ki bas just do something and stop this whole shitshow.

vihaan ka toh pata nahi, the shady fuck, but bappa like:

i gotchu girl.

bhaari bhaari flashback waali walk down the stairs.

HE EVEN SAID THE MAA LINE AS VIHAAN IN THE VANSH VOICE. SHE GOTTA BE SOOOOO FUCKING STUPID MY GODDDDDDD.

ouffffff so much time wasteeeeeeeeeee.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand....................

watch that he was wearing while falling off the cliff? ✅✅✅

wedding ring that was not found on the dead body????? ✅✅✅

“YEH SHAADI NAHI HO SAKTI” booooooooming across the whole damn neighbourhood in the fakest deep voice everrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr???? ✅✅✅

———————————————————————

precap:

haan yeh sab toh theek hai.............. 😕😕😕

par asli sexxxxxxxxx waali chemistry idhar hai!!!!!!!! UNFFFFFF. 🤩🤩🤩

#ishq mein marjawan 2 #immj2 #immj2 lbs #episode liveblogs

23 notes · View notes

queenangst · 4 years

Note

(if prompts are still open?? thanks!!) a fic with aizawa in the aftermath of the usj, going back to ua before he should. we didn't see too many detailed interactions of people being worried about him, or thanking him for what he did, or being relieved to see him still alive, etc

for my 30 min fic challenge / read more: ‘30 min fics’ tag

the bare minimum [read on AO3]

Shouta spends the first few days in the soft haze of painkillers. He drifts in and out. There’s always something floating in the back of his mind, those few times that he flickers into awareness. A scab he keeps picking at, but it never comes up clean. It hurts, though.

The first time he blinks awake and finds clarity ricocheting back at him, he remembers.

He shoots up in the white hospital bed, pain in every moment, blinking against the bandages around his eyes.

“—Shouta?”

Shouta registers the voice. But his heart is pounding, terribly alive, because suddenly he’s remembered tearing himself away from his kids, fighting alone in the center of a pavilion surrounded by villains. A grotesque, strange creature, and another two villains still. The crack of bone. His Quirk, flickering. His kids.

“Where—” he says.

And he can’t see right.

Someone grabs his hand. It’s Shouta’s own weakness—and awareness—that stops him from throwing Hizashi right across the room.

“Shouta,” Hizashi says, and presses a hand lightly to Shouta’s shoulder.

“The kids,” he gasps. His head’s spinning. He’s probably not supposed to be awake. He’s probably not supposed to be thinking like this, the fear sliding into his veins.

An image comes back to him: an outstretched hand, centimeters away from Asui Tsuyu.

In the few days of class, he’d learned enough about his students. Asui had a younger sister, who she clearly cared for and talked about a lot. She was blunt, clear in a way that Shouta appreciated, and she was unafraid to speak her mind. And reasonable. He liked her.

And she’d been moments away from death. Shouta couldn’t move.

He remembered bleeding on the ground, the fear gripping him tighter than the villains had, and how desperate he’d been. Not her. Not her. Not any of them.

“Shouta,” Hizashi murmurs, “they’re alright. Some injuries. But— they all made it out, thanks to you.”

“Thirteen,” is Shouta’s next question.

“Recovering.”

He shudders, and feels his whole body shake. He can’t stop it. Hizashi’s careful as he slips his hand around Shouta’s shoulders.

“You didn’t ask about yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” Shouta says plainly. Because it’s not a choice. Because he has to be fine; there is no other option except fine. He’s a pro hero, and a teacher. He can’t stop, not for a second.

One second is all a villain needs.

“Your eyes… the doctors are worried about the damage. That’s why they’re covered, Shouta. That villain’s Quirk…”

“I’ll be fine,” Shouta says again, more forcefully.

The last thing he needs is Hizashi worrying about him. The gravity of Hizashi’s words start settling in though, even more so when Hizashi leaves to get a doctor, and the doctor says, there may be lasting damage.

Healing Quirks saved him, he’s told. The bandages will be removed tomorrow. Shouta’s lucky, he’s told. The damage could have been irreversible.

Now that he’s awake, Hizashi doesn’t stop pestering him. The most Shouta can see is spots of light and dark, but he wishes he could see Hizashi’s face at least for one moment. There’s a very real fear in the undercurrent of Hizashi’s voice, the only reason Shouta lets him keep talking.

The quiet lulls.

“I’m— sorry I wasn’t there,” Hizashi says, “Shouta…”

“What about this was your fault?” Shouta snaps. It isn’t.

“By the time I got there… Shouta, you were— it was bad. Okay? It was really, really bad. I thought I was going to lose you, too.”

The too hangs there for a minute, where they both stop and sit in memory for a moment. Then they both close the lid of the box, and move on; the past will remain in the past, as it has to.

“I’ll be fine,” Shouta says for the third time, but he’s a little softer; and Hizashi seems to accept that.

As soon as Shouta’s aware is when things start falling into place. He’s visited by Nedzu, and by Nemuri, who yells at him a little. And then All Might, who apologizes profusely before Shouta kicks him out; and then doctors come and go. The darkness of the bandages leave him, though the fear doesn’t.

Shouta’s aware. Shouta’s functioning. These are the two arguments he presents when he tells everyone he’s going back to teaching, immediately.

Hizashi protests. A lot.

But Shouta walks with stiff legs and a dull ache into his classroom the following week, putting his hands together in front of him as his class stares.

“Should— sensei, should you be here?”

“I can teach. So I will.”

And so he does. Two hours into the first classes of the day, Shouta feels the strain. His eyes hurt. His head has spiked and is beginning to pulse with the dull background noise, with the light filtering through the glass windows facing the hallway.

By lunch, when class is dismissed, Shouta is keeping himself up by bracing himself against the podium. The students leave after he glares at them. I’m fine. Asui doesn’t.

“Sensei,” she says, “can I talk to you?”

Shouta nods. A flash of pain accompanies the motion; he winces, and he’s not quick enough to hide it.

“You should rest, kero,” she croaks. She’s observant, this one. “Sensei, I… you’ve done a lot for us. We don’t—my classmates and I don’t think any less of you, if you need time to heal.”

Shouta swallows. It’s a bitter pill.

“Please,” Asui adds.

He looks into her face and thinks, and that’s why I can’t.

“There’s no time,” Shouta tells her, “I’ve healed enough, so I’m here.”

When it comes down to it, Shouta will do the same as he did at USJ. He will put himself between a villain and his class, his students, the protective fire roaring to life deep under his skin.

Asui doesn’t look convinced. But she says, “If that’s what you think, sensei. I can’t… argue with you.”

“Is that all?” Shouta asks.

He’s already thinking about what to do next. Go to the teacher’s lounge, probably—Hizashi brought painkillers for him. Take a quick, twenty-minute nap that will last him for the rest of the day. Stand, even though it hurts, teach, even though every word and every breath hurts him. He has to. He has to.

Asui’s eyes shine. She blinks quickly, once, twice—she’s about to cry. Shouta opens his mouth.

“You saved my life,” she says, in a voice so quiet Shouta nearly doesn’t hear her. “Even though you- even when… you still saved my life. I just—”

And then she does start crying, and something in Shouta’s chest cracks open, next to his fractured ribs. Something deeper, something that hurts more.

“Kid,” he says, but he doesn’t know what to say, for once. What do you say?You saved my life. What do you say to that?

He shuffles carefully around the podium, and very carefully opens his arms and holds them out. Asui looks at him and then steps into his arms, wrapping her own around him. She sniffles against his chest. Shouta lifts one hand and then slowly settles it on the back of Asui’s head.

“I was scared,” she confesses, muffled against his shirt. Her shoulders shake. “I thought I was going to die. And- and then I was scared you were going to die be- because of me—”

“Asui,” he says, and that wounds him.

“And you’re here. ”

“My job is to protect you,” Shouta says, “and I will do whatever is in my power to do that. Okay?”

Asui takes in a breath.

“I don’t regret it,” he says when she doesn’t say anything. He strokes her hair. He doesn’t regret it, not for a moment; not at all.

“Thank you for saving me,” she croaks, stepping back with red-rimmed eyes. Shouta almost doesn’t want to let her go. Then Asui bows. “Really, sensei. You- Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

Thanking him is not wrong; he can’t tell her that. But thanking him for doing the bare minimum, for being in a situation where the students had to fight back, had to protect the teachers… Shouta doesn’t want to be thanked for that.

“Still,” Asui insists, and meets his eyes with a piercing look. “Please- please take care of yourself, sensei. It would mean a lot to me, and everyone, if you did.”

She leaves after that, and Shouta spends the time looking at the empty doorway mulling over that thought. Something sticks in his mind.

He goes to the teacher’s lounge, meets Hizashi’s gaze. He doesn’t protest when painkillers are pressed into his hand, or when Recovery Girl stops by to look over him. And he does, briefly, close his eyes to rest.

When he blinks awake again, Hizashi’s there. He’s always there. Shouta thinks about telling him to leave, about telling him that Shouta will be fine, but he stops himself. Please take care of yourself.

“You alright?” Hizashi asks.

It’s hard to admit, but Shouta swallows his fear of not being enough, and says, “I could use some help.”

#asks #bnha #bnha fanfic #30 min fics #aizawa #present mic #tsuyu #anonymous

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