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kitthepurplepotato · 1 year ago

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MWRMI part 5

My Weird Roommate, Midoriya Izuku

Week 3 Part 1 - Reality Check.

~•🥦•~

Summary: Living with pro hero Deku was too good to be true; when Midoriya doesn’t come home one night, Y/N realizes how painful it is to love the Number One Hero.

Warnings: Injured Deku, swear words, a hint of angst.

First part Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

After having Midoriya around you for a whole day the house feels cold and strange without the green haired nerd. Your moping got to a point when even All Meowt felt sorry enough for you to come out and keep you company so needless to say, you definitely look pathetic right now.

Sometimes, when the urge to see your flatmate got unbearable you messaged him about stupid things; random hero fun facts, fan arts, screenshots, a picture of you cooking his favorite meal and for your surprise, Midoriya responded to all of them.

After a while he also started to send you random pictures about his patrol; sometimes it was just a lovely picture of the sunset but sometimes they were grimy and disgusting; pictures of his injuries or a selfie of Midoriya with a massive black eye. Usually, by the time the greenette came home the injuries were gone thanks to the amazing healer guy they have on their team, but that doesn’t make it easier to see him like that. Being close to a hero isn’t a fucking dream, it’s more like a nightmare. You never know when it’s the last time you see him and you can never sleep soundly until you hear the door open; what if he ends up in a hospital and no one informs you? What if he comes home thinking he’s all okay but there is an internal bleeding killing him slowly while he sleeps?

Yeah, being close to heroes suck.

But let’s come back to the present now; to the present that’s also not so pleasant.

You wake up in the middle of the night to a notification on your phone; you dozed off on the table again while working on another project. The notification almost makes you throw up; it’s an article about a massive fight in the middle of the city, not too far away from your current home. You turn on the TV as the article states it’s being aired live; you can see pro hero Deku, barely standing on the sidelines while the rest of his team finishes the work in the middle. Dynamight manages to catch the last villain, so technically the heroes won, but you can’t help the tears trailing down your cheeks from seeing your friend wobbling to the nearest emergency station before passing out in the nurse’s arms.

You try to keep calm but you can’t stop yourself from sending him a message.

You: Please send me a message when you wake up, Midoriya!

Just as you expected, there is no response coming back. Fuck.

Thankfully, All Meowth graces you with his existence and lets you pet his fluffy little head. What a supportive little animal.

After a few dreadful minutes; 40, to be exact, there is a notification on your phone.

Midoriya: ….!hehdgeuehdbgenevrm

Midoriya: I!m oksbdgeb

Midoriya: fuxk

Midoriya: Hey Freeloader, stop freaking the shit out, I’ll bring him home as soon as he’s coherent. Make him some soup or some shit, the fucker didn’t take a break today. I’m also hungry by the way and I deserve a fucking serving.”

You don’t need to think twice to know who wrote that message. You sigh and take a deep, shaky breath.

He’s fine. He’s coming home.

~•🥦•~

“We’re home!” Dynamight’s loud and hoarse voice breaks through the silence.

In any other situation, you would probably take five to ten minutes to fangirl over the fact that Dynamight is here; he might be rough and abrasive towards everyone but his good looks and heroic deeds still managed to take him to the second place on the hero rankings; but right now, you can only see the green haired man who’s holding into his shoulders like he can’t even stand straight without help.

“Midoriya…” You run through the living room to check up on him but Dynamight puts his arms out to stop you in your tracks.

“He’s high.” He declares. “Our healer’s quirk likes to kick you in the ass when it’s overused. He’s not aware of his surroundings, so don’t even bother.” The blonde hero rolls his eyes and makes his way towards the kitchen, the greenette limping after him, still holding the guy’s shoulder like a lifeline.

“Izuku, we are going to eat and then you are going to bed, okay?” Dynamight pushes Izuku’s chin up to force eye contact; he speaks to him with a soft, reassuring voice like he’s a random toddler he found on the street. They sit down next to each other on the dining table then Izuku nods but doesn’t move towards his food; the blonde sighs and takes the spoon in his hand. “Open your fucking mouth, you big baby!” Dynamight screams at the clearly high greenette, who obeys without hesitation.

… it’s 5 fucking AM and here you are, staring at motherfucking Dynamight force feeding pro hero Deku with your soup at your fucking dining table.

This fanfiction got really weird, really quickly.

“Where is Y/N?” Izuku speaks up after gaining some color in his cheeks. You perk up at the sound of your name but you decide not to get involved in their conversation.

“She’s literally sitting opposite of you, you dump fuck.” The blonde grumbles, clearly fucking done with the situation.

“Is she okay?”

This is such a Midoriya thing to do that you can’t help but smile; the guy comes home after almost dying on the battlefield yet his first coherent question is about someone else’s wellbeing.

“No, she’s probably scarred for life after seeing me feeding you, to be honest.”

Well, what were you expecting from Dynamight, sugar coating? Nah.

“No…” Midoriya’s voice trembles. You really want to hug him. “I don’t want her to be mad. I don’t want her to leave!”

Fuck, your face is wet. You never ever want to see that look on Midoriya’s face, it’s absolutely heartbreaking.

“She’s not going anywhere you moron. She made this soup for you, so eat it.” Dynamight grumbles at him again, but Deku only smiles at him.

“What the fuck are you smiling at me for?” The blonde is clearly not a big fan of affection, his face contorts into a frown from all the cheesiness.

“Y/N’s soup is even better than yours.” The greenette answers with a lovesick smile on his face but apparently, this wasn’t the right thing to say as the blonde’s face heats up in anger.

“Now take that back you asshole or I’ll push this spoon down your fucking throat.” Dynamight looks like he’s about to explode but Deku is clearly unaffected by the empty threat.

“No, Kacchan is mad.” Midoriya’s shit eating grin is so huge it can probably be seen from the top of Mt.Fuji. The blonde decides he’s done with Deku’s shenanigans and literally throws the guy into his bedroom without a single warning. He comes out after five minutes and sits down on the sofa; he holds his hand out and stares at you until you put one and two together.

Ahh, he’s asking for food.

“I really wanted to hug him before he goes to sleep.” You reprimand as you make your way to the sofa with a big bowl of soup. You made a special batch for the spice loving blonde as a thank you. Dynamight rolls his eyes and nods approvingly at the taste.

“I don’t want to listen to him bitching about embarrassing himself in front of you again. For some fucking reason he really cares about shit like that when it comes to you.” Bakugou answers nonchalantly, like you’ve known each other for ages and this isn’t your first ever conversation. After seeing your confused face, he elaborates on the topic. “He won’t remember you being with us because I didn’t let him look at you. He’ll wake up tomorrow thinking you were fast asleep and he won’t beat himself up about it.”

“So long story short, you being an asshole is all an act and you are actually more like a protective big brother.” You poke at the sleeping bear, but for your surprise, he doesn’t get offended by you seeing through him.

Okay. This is new. This is not how people portray Bakugou in their fanfictions.

“We are all family. We support each other. Being a hero is a lonely job so if we are not there for each other no one ever will ever be.” The blonde answers with a straight face but his voice gets melancholic by the end of his sentence.

You don’t know what to say to that. You understand the sentiment but at the same you can’t help but wonder how the fuck is the pain not worth it. These people; both Midoriya and Bakugou; are the most protecting, most loving people you’ve ever met in your life. They are loyal to a fault and they go out of their way to make their loved ones feel safe.

“You guys deserve the fucking world and some blood and the lack and of contact during missions won’t change my mind about that. This night was the worst day of my life but I would do it over and over again if it means I can stay close to him, because he’s worth it.”

You definitely overshared a bit, but by the look of it, Bakugou doesn’t care nor comments on it.

“You are different than the rest.” He mumbles, playing with a piece of meat at the bottom of the almost empty bowl.

“Different?”

“Yeah. I didn’t like this whole roomie idea, you know.” He admits. “It’s dangerous, even with a mutual friend. A lot of people tried to use him and he’s so fucking naive. But I can see it in your eyes, you know… That you care about him. And he also can’t shut up about you, so.. welcome to the family, or whatever. Also, gimme’ your phone number so I can update you on all the shit so you don’t freak out.” Bakugou throws his unlocked phone into your lap; his background is a picture of the gang sitting on each other on Deku’s sofa. He’s so cute.

“Thank you… for accepting me. It means a lot.” You mumble sheepishly, your whole face red as a tomato. Bakugou snaps his phone out of your hands and throws it in the air to catch it, just to be cool and edgy.

“Save the cheesy shit for the nerd, Freeloader.” The blonde grins. “Make sure he sleeps enough. He’ll be good as new by the afternoon.” Dynamight stands up to put the dishes into the dishwasher. “Thanks for the food, send me the recipe.”

And with that, the hero is gone and the the silence is back; you lie down on the sofa and listen to the noises coming from Deku’s room, but after a few rustles, everything quiets down and only the soft, content snores can be heard from the room next door.

You fall asleep on the sofa, not having the energy to go into your room; at least you will be there in case Midoriya needs help during the night.

~•🥦•~

You wake up to Midoriya’s footsteps around 9 AM; barely a few hours after he came home last night. He looks disheveled and confused as he tries to put on his hero costume.

“Midoriya… go to sleep.” You pull yourself up; the hero jumps in surprise by the sight of you. “How do you want to fight evil if you can’t even sense me sleeping on the sofa, huh?”

You know that’s a low blow, but you’d do anything to keep the hero from going out today. He needs to stay home and you also need him to rest for your own sanity. He looks pale and all over the place, there is no way you’ll let him go out like that.

“Y/N, I’m fine. I can’t skip work…” Midoriya is just about to start rambling about the importance of his job, but you don’t let him finish. You throw your phone towards him which he catches in one swift move.

“Read it.”

Dynamight: Yo, freeloader. Tell Deku he’s not needed today. I found cover for him. If he leaves the house I’ll kill him.

“How does he know your number?”

Fuck, you didn’t think this through. Midoriya is not supposed to know about yesterday.

“He left a note with his number on the table, so I sent him a message.” You lie, feeling terrible for doing so but it’s all for his sake.

Deku doesn’t say anything just sits down next you; his face looks sad and heartbroken, but he doesn’t say a word about it. You really want to hug him but you are not sure it would be appreciated right now.

“Mido…” You are just about speak up, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“You are lying to me.” He declares with a heartbroken smile. He knows. He doesn’t remember but he’s a clever guy and you are a terrible liar.

“Not all lies are bad. Sometimes, people lie for the sake of their loved ones.”

“I also lied.” Midoriya admits. “About me being okay. I’m really tired. Mentally. Physically. In every single way.”

“I know.“ You can’t help it; your hands move towards Midoriya’s frizzy curls. Midoriya melts into the touch, clearly desperate for affection now that the air is clean between you two. “Put your head into my lap and let’s watch a movie, okay?” That way he can fall asleep and you can keep an eye on him for the rest of the day. Win-Win.

~•🥦•~

As the movie starts, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. It’s a dumb and fluffy movie, something that takes his mind away from all the violence in the real world. Midoriya’s hair is full of knots under your palm, so you slowly rake your fingers through the mess, detangling it lock by lock as the green haired hero contentedly sighs, urging you to keep going. It’s way too domestic and way too intimate but you can’t stop; Midoriya clearly needs the attention right now, he’s melting into your touch, his cheek buried into the soft throw that sits between your things and his head for more comfort.

When the movie ends, you realize you didn’t even look at the screen once but neither did Midoriya; he’s fast asleep on your lap, drooling like a golden retriever after a full day of fun. You try to clean him up a bit but he’s not having any of it; he murmurs in his sleep and takes your hand in his, subconsciously caressing the skin. A shiver goes down your spine from the soft touch, churning your insides with it, but you don’t have the heart to wake him up.

Midoriya is too much. He’s so kind, so beautiful, so affectionate, and so-so full of love; you can’t believe you are on the receptive side of all of this. You really feel like you don’t deserve Midoriya’s attention and deep inside you know it doesn’t mean the same to him as it means to you but right here, right now, you let it all in, ready for the biggest heartbreak in your life when this is all over.

~•🥦•~

You wake up after a few hours, still in the same position. Midoriya’s now flawlessly fluffy head is still resting in your lap but he’s facing the other way around; he looks up at you with sleepy eyes, a tired but honest smile decorating his handsome face.

“Good morning, sweet pea.” He mumbles half asleep, hiding his face in your tummy for a few more seconds of peace.

The nickname almost makes your heart stop, but you try your best to ignore the fluttery feeling in your chest.

“I’m quite sure it’s afternoon.” You strike back with a sass, which the green haired hero blissfully ignores.

“Whatever. It’s nice.”

“Yeah.” You admit with a red face, and this is the moment Dynamight chooses to barge into the flat with a bunch of other people behind him.

Okay, this is extremely awkward.

Do these people know how to knock?!

“THE MIDORIYA CHEERING UP SQUAD HAS ARRIVED!” Chargebolt yells while the others hide their faces in embarrassment.

“By the look of it, shitty Deku has a good enough time already.” Dynamight snickers and Deku jumps up like a happy puppy to forcefully hug the shit out of the annoyed blonde. While everyone is busy staring at the two hugging each other, you take a moment to take a look at the intruders; every single of these people are heroes you follow on every single available social media.

Don’t freak out.

Don’t. Freak. Out.

Don’t…

“OH MY GOD, THATS RED RIOT THAT’S FUCKING RED RIOT, Midoriya!”

Fuck.

… Next Part!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Random ramble from the potato:

- Thank you so much for all the love on this series I'm so happy you love it as much as I do, this is baby😭💚

- Also, you are not ready for the next part! Ask my bestie, she has a lot to say about it. 😂 @porusuniverse

- I accidentally bought a Deku figurine today. And a Todoroki one. It was an accident, I swear. Kacchan was lonely, he needed a friend.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated as always 💚 Tell me your thoughts! 🥦

Taglist: @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo (wanna be added? Just tell me in the comments/send me a message!)

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #midoriya izuku x you #midoriya x y/n #midoriya x you #pro hero deku #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya izuku #my hero academia

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moonlight0934 · 23 days ago

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Public Display

Nagisa slips into his house, deciding to enjoy the quiet while his mom is still at work. He drops into a chair in the living room, then pulls out his homework. He doesn’t end up actually working on that for very long, and ends up falling asleep. It’s an hour later when he wakes up to the door opening.

“Hey, Mom,” Nagisa calls, blinking to dislodge the sleep from his eyes.

“Why do you sound like that? Your voice is so deep,” his mom says, sounding annoyed.

“Sorry, I was asleep. It’ll regulate. Anyway, how was your day?” Nagisa asks as he slips the rubber bands out of his hair.

He runs his hands through his hair, frowning as he realizes how long it’s gotten.

“It was fine.” She walks in, and sits beside him. “I had a good day at work, and I picked up the groceries for your favorite soup.”

Nagisa frowns.

“Oh, why? You don’t like that soup.”

Shit, she wants something. What could she possibly want right now?

“I just thought I’d make it. It’s not like I dislike it.”

Oh no, she’s dodging. It’s bad.

“Ok, that’s fine. What are your plans for the rest of the week?”

“Well, my company is having a party this weekend, but I haven’t gotten the exact details yet.”

Yes she has. She definitely wants me to come, but there’s no way that’s it. What’s she going to ask me to do?

Nagisa hums.

“Well, I hope you have a good time. I need to do my homework, so I’ll be upstairs doing that unless you need help with dinner.”

She shakes her head, and Nagisa stands up. He takes his bag and books up the stairs to his room before dropping onto the bed.

“Ugh, I am not ready for the other shoe to drop. I wonder how long it’s going to take. It’s already Thursday, so it can’t take that long if the party is this weekend.”

Nagisa buries his face into his pillow with a long-suffering sigh. He’s right, and his mother sits him down after dinner the next night for a chat.

“So, I want you to come with me to my party this weekend. It’s going to be on Saturday, and it’s going to start at six o’ clock. So cancel any weekend plans you have.”

“Ok, I’m just going to have to call Karma, but that’s easy enough. Is there anything else?”

“No, just know that I’ll be helping you get ready on Saturday.”

Nagisa nods, standing up.

“Ok, what time do I need to start that process?”

“Three.”

That’s a long time. There’s definitely something she isn’t telling me.

Nagisa tries to put it out of his head until he has to talk to Karma the next day.

He walks out with Karma while Karma chatters about something he’s going to be doing later.

“Why are you so quiet?” he asks suddenly.

“Oh, I actually needed to talk to you about that. I’m not going to be able to help you with that writing project this weekend. My mom wants me to go to some work event with her.”

“Then why don’t we just push it to Sunday?”

“Um… I’ve got a lot of cleaning to do this Sunday. I know it’s already Thursday, but can you find someone else to help you with it?”

Karma frowns.

“Yeah, I guess I can. Are you excited, or is it going to be boring?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t have much information yet, but I guess I’m not too bothered that I have to do it.”

Karma hums.

“Well that sucks, especially since I’m not coming into school tomorrow. So, I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Ok, bye, Karma. Thanks for being understanding.”

Karma laughs. Nagisa walks home, and forces himself not to think about it again. Since it’s only a day and half away, there’s no reason to stress about it. He just needs to wait and see what happens.

His mom doesn’t end up coming into his room until three thirty on Saturday. She’s holding the most extravagant midnight blue dress that Nagisa has ever seen.

“What is that?”

“This is your outfit for the event. We have to get started if we want to have your hair and makeup done in time. It took me longer than I thought to do my own makeup.”

“I thought I was going to be wearing my tux if it was that fancy.”

“No, sweetheart, you’re going to look much better in this.”

“I don’t want to wear that, Mom.”

“Well, if you don’t wear it, then I’m going to pull you out of that stupid E-Class. If your teacher still has a problem with it, then I’ll pull you out of the school entirely. It has not been good for you, and those people are bad influences.”

Nagisa sighs, his eyes darkening.

“Ok, fine.”

“Good, now let’s get you ready.”

She dresses him up, curls his hair, and puts makeup on him.

“Why do I have to do this?” Nagisa asks as he steps into the heels that his mother bought him.

“Because I told you to. You’re so beautiful like this.”

The drive is quiet. The venue is extravagant, and huge. There are tons of people milling around, and most of them wave as Nagisa’s mom leads him to the door. Nagisa’s face burns, but he doesn’t say anything. She’s smiling widely though.

“Hey, Hiromi, it’s good to see you. Oh, and I see you finally decided to bring your daughter. Hi, sweetie, how are you?” a man at the entrance asks.

Nagisa doesn’t look up until his mother elbows him.

“She’s just shy.”

“Hi,” Nagisa says lamely, barely glancing at the man’s face.

“Come on, dear.”

His mother spends the next hour and a half parading him around to all of her friends, cooing about how adorable her daughter is. Nagisa barely says anything until she finally sits down.

“You told your co-workers that you have a daughter?”

“Well, not exactly. They just assumed, and I never corrected them.”

“I’m leaving.”

“No you’re not. You want to go back to school, don’t you? Just stay for another hour or two. It’ll be more fun from here on out.”

“Why do you even care if I walk home?”

“Because my boss isn’t here yet, and I want you to meet him.”

Nagisa sits down too, tucking his chin in his hand.

“Don’t do that, it’s not cute.”

Nagisa huffs, but leans back. He almost immediately sits up, straightening his spine before his mother can say anything. It’s another hour before two men walk over. One is older, and the other one looks like he’s in his early twenties.

“Hi, how are you?” Nagisa’s mom asks, standing up.

The older man smiles.

“Good afternoon, I’m good. Is this Nagisa?”

“Yes, this is my baby, Nagisa.”

“My son’s wanted to meet you for some time now. Your mother speaks very highly of you.”

Nagisa forces a smile onto his face as he glances at the younger man. He still looks like he can’t be younger than twenty two.

“Well, it’s wonderful to meet both of you.”

“Why don’t you go dance with Trevor while I talk to my boss?” Nagisa’s mom asks, pushing Nagisa towards the younger man.

Trevor holds his hand out, and Nagisa has to stop himself from physically recoiling. He takes Trevor’s hand, and lets himself be led onto the dance floor. The music is quiet and slow, but Nagisa still has them dance arms length from each other. Trevor tries to talk to him a few times, but he isn’t really listening. Eventually Trevor gets the hint, and takes him back over to the table.

“Ah, how was your dance?” the older man asks.

“It wasn’t great. Can we go, Dad?”

“Yes, of course. It was nice seeing you, Hiromi. It was also a pleasure to meet you Nagisa, I hope to see you again.”

They’re walking away before either of them can respond. Nagisa’s mom turns back to him.

“Come on, we’re going home.” They’re in the car before she speaks again. “You could have at least pretended to be nice.”

“I was nice. I just wasn’t the kind of nice that he wanted. Also, he thought I was a girl.”

“Yes, I know that.”

She opens her car door, and slams it shut again as soon as she’s out.

“Mom, I don’t want to go to your work functions so I can act like I’m a girl.”

She turns around to face Nagisa.

“I am doing this for your own good. You could have so many opportunities if you just stop being so stubborn. I could have gotten assigned something that could have changed our lives. Instead now they’re annoyed with me, because you were rude.”

“I wasn’t rude.”

“You were rude. Now go to your room.”

Nagisa goes to his room, changes, and throws himself down on his bed. He silently sobs, his face buried in his pillow. His mom comes by to take his phone, but leaves him alone otherwise. So, he spends the rest of the night crying alone in his room.

#whumptober2024 #whumptober #no.23 #forced choice #public display #i'm doing this for you #assassination classroom #nagisa shiota #karma akabane #emotional angst #child abuse #whump writing #writing challenge

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sihaya74 · 1 year ago

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NEW The Lessons of Bryan Fuller's Hannibal S1: E6 -- HOPE IS THE THING WITH SURGICAL TROPHIES

Lessons of Bryan Fuller’s Hannibal

S1:E6 – HOPE IS THE THING WITH SURGICAL TROPHIES

Hello readers and #FannibalFamily! Yes, it’s been a hot minute since I have updated this blog. What can I say? Life has a tendency to intervene. A few real-life events knocked me out of my daily writing pattern and I am just now beginning to regain my balance. This blog is, however, something I am committed to finishing no matter how long it takes, and so, I am digging back into the scripts of Bryan Fuller’s Hannibal and prepared to create my next installment – an analysis of the theme, the message, the universal lesson in the happenings of Season 1, Episode 6: “Entrée.”

I must make an important note that at this point, I have rewatched the show some five or six times. But this is my first time delving into the scripts for all the episodes. I have to occasionally remind myself about scenes in these episodes or lines of dialogue that wound up being cut or moved to a different episode. But since I am approaching this project as an English major and analyzing both the show and the scripts as a TEXT – (my literary theory professor, Dr. Hogue, always said that everything in life is a TEXT and he was damn sure right about that) – then I see no issue with the fact that sometimes the words I am analyzing didn’t always make it to the screen in the exact form they started out in. Hannibal is a series that is a feast for all the senses – its visual beauty, its soundtrack and score and sound effects, the effort put in to rendering the most beautiful depictions of food on the screen and so perhaps the viewer can imagine their taste – (I have dreamed feverishly about those High Life Eggs more than once, I can tell you) – but all of it begins where good stories start – on the page. And so, it is to the page and the words that I remain loyal.

This episode of Hannibal, “Entrée,” had two authors. Kai Yu Wu conceived the story and Wu and Bryan wrote it together. The episode was directed by Michael Rymer.

In the order of our French dishes, by which each episode of the first season is named, at this point in the series, we have partaken of the following: a pre-dinner drink, a little bitty appetizer, a bowl of hearty soup, some eggs, and a chicken or fish dish baked in a sauce and served in a scallop shell or scallop-shaped dish. And so now, a viewer must ask, “What’s next?” That or: “I need to take a break because I’m full.” At which, Bryan Fuller points at the viewer’s plate and says, “You’ll clean your plate and you’ll like it. You’ll love it. You’ll beg me for another season when we’re done.” Just trust him. He’s the chef. You always trust the chef. They know what they’re doing.

In a classic French meal, the entrée is not necessarily the main dish and it is not always served – sometimes they skip courses. When it does appear, it is usually a meat dish, in a sauce (GOTTA HAVE A SAUCE), and with sides. In American cuisine, entrée has come to mean a MAIN COURSE always. And what an entrée is in American cuisine varies wildly by what is on the menu, who is eating it, and how many fried cheese sticks and jalapeno poppers the person had prior to the entrée arriving at their table. Still, the idea holds. When you say the word “entrée,” people expect a main course – something substantial, something that sticks to your ribs. And in this episode, there is definitely a lot of meat – meat that has been rubbed and aged over the last five episodes and is now sliced and steaming from the oven. This episode is mostly about advancing the MAIN storyline – that of the Chesapeake Ripper and the FBI’s and namely, Jack Crawford’s, attempts to catch the seasoned killer. (Seasoned… see what I did there? YOU GOT PUNNED!)

And on a thirsty side note: After viewing the scene in which Will Graham reenacts the murder of nurse Elizabeth Shell, the fact that the episode is named “Entrée,” makes complete sense. Hugh Dancy in that scene is an entire meal with ample meat for leftovers. (Seriously – JFC – if you haven’t seen it, or seen it lately, do yourself a favor and have some GOOD FOOD.)

We start the episode with our introduction to one of the series’ completely original characters, Dr. Abel Gideon, a former transplant surgeon, who after being convicted of the murders of his wife and her family, has been incarcerated in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, for the last two years. The character is portrayed with amazing skill, subtlety, and awesomeness, by Suzy Eddie Izzard. I have been a longtime fan of Izzard’s work and was insanely pleased to see the actor amongst the cast members.

I must point out the literary significance of the character’s name – Abel Gideon, a smorgasbord of Biblical allusion. The import of the Doctor’s first name is obvious – Abel, in the Biblical version of things, was the first murder VICTIM, slain by the hands of his jealous brother, Cain, who was angry that God liked Abel better and had a right fit about it. The character of Gideon is slightly more complex, but basically it goes as follows: Gideon was a prophet in the Old Testament. He destroyed the idols of Baal and others in his town’s temple because the townspeople were worshipping false gods. An angel told him to. Then, Gideon led the Israelites against other “heathen” tribes and won. They wanted to make him king, but he told them their only king was God. Still, he had them melt down the golden earrings of all their enemies who had fallen in battle and they wove the golden thread into an ephod, a priestly garment that is worn under the breastplate. Gideon put it in the temple and the people started worshipping it as an idol, because I guess, it was gold. Old Testament people always seem really impressed by gold. The Scripture is unclear, but it does say that the ephod was “a snare unto Gideon, and to his house” (Judges 8: 27).

You could say Gideon was a hypocrite, or more accurately, a terrible fool because he tried to stop the people from worshipping false idols and then he just led them into doing it again by creating something they would see as a sacred object. At best, Gideon was naïve. At worst, he was a fraud.

Dr. Abel Gideon’s name therefore could translate into something like: Dr. VICTIM FRAUD – or Dr. VICTIM FOOL. Despite his intelligence, he is lured directly into Dr. Chilton’s trap to believe and admit he is the Chesapeake Ripper solely because of Frederick’s needy ego – Frederick wants more feathers in his cap – he doesn’t have near enough and Hannibal Lecter’s are brighter and bespoke and where the fuck did he even find a custom featherer in Baltimore?

Then, later in the series, Gideon is led directly into the trap of the true Chesapeake Ripper and probably desperately wishes he had stayed in the BSHCI and eaten his stewed apricots and minded his own business.

Poor Abel is nothing but a puppet for two different egotistical psychiatrists. Unfortunately for him, one of them happens to be Hannibal Lecter.

And so, we begin the episode with the scene of Gideon passed out on the floor of his cell in the BSHCI and a team of prison guards approaching his limp form very cautiously and eventually shackling him, hand and foot, to a gurney, and wheeling him into the hospital infirmary, where he is treated by the aptly named Nurse Shell.

As evidenced by my previous discussion of Gideon’s name, I have come to realize the significance of character names in Bryan Fuller’s work. They are often allusions or tributes – homages to the work of other writers, directors, artists, scientists, and so on, that Bryan admires. For example, one has to assume that the surname of Bryan’s beloved Bedelia (another original character), Du Maurier, is a tribute to author Daphne du Maurier, author of many books and film adaptations of suspense – such as Rebecca, which Bryan and many of his horror colleagues discuss in the fabulous AMC/Shudder series Queer For Fear, on which Bryan was an executive producer and director. Basically, Mrs. Danvers was either literally or only metaphorically all up in Rebecca de Winter’s undergarments and when the woman died, Mrs. Danvers decided to make it everyone’s problem. The movie is awesome. Go watch it if you haven’t already. And then watch Queer For Fear. I believe they discuss Rebecca in both episodes two and four.

Anyway, Nurse Shell is correctly and tragically named because a shell of her former self is what she winds up as when the deluded Gideon is done with her.

As Nurse Shell turns her back, Gideon extricates the broken-off tine of a fork he has hidden in an incision in his palm. I believe this scene is an homage to the scene in The Silence of the Lambs when Dr. Lecter unearths a metal fragment from the back of his jaw, the inner workings of a ballpoint pen that has fallen into his hands. He uses this makeshift lockpick on his own handcuffs, much to the chagrin of Lieutenant Boyle and Sargeant Pembry. Classic scene.

Anyway, Gideon uses this tine to pick the lock on his handcuffs and when Nurse Shell turns around upon hearing the heart monitor hit a flatline, it’s lights out for the poor woman. We do not see Gideon kill her, but we see the results of his work soon.

Next, we see Jack Crawford and Will Graham vaulting up the front steps of the hospital, Jack explaining that based on the method of Nurse Shell’s murder, Freddie Lounds has run an unconfirmed story suggesting that Abel Gideon is the Chesapeake Ripper, which would explain the lull in murders for the last two years. Will is indignant that he is “fact-checking for Freddie Lounds,” but Jack coddles him with the statement, “You’re fact-checking for me” (Wu and Fuller 2).

There is heavy foreshadowing in the following exchange between Jack and Will before they enter the hospital:

WILL GRAHAM: I’m always a little nervous going into one of these places. Afraid they’ll never let me out again.

JACK CRAWFORD: Don’t worry. I’m not going to leave you here.

WILL GRAHAM: Not today (Wu and Fuller 3).

I really do recommend you watch the series more than once so this dramatic irony is not lost.

Once Jack and Will enter the hospital, we see the first appearance of another of our main characters and one of the most important in the Hannibal canon: Dr. Frederick Chilton.

In Fuller’s series, Chilton is rendered flawlessly by actor Raul Esparza, a deep daddy of mine (see ADA Rafael Barba of Law and Order: SVU fame). Esparza is another Fuller Favorite, having appeared in one of Bryan’s previous masterpiece shows, Pushing Daisies.

There have been three actors who have portrayed the petty and obsequious Dr. Chilton, starting with Benjamin Hendrickson in 1986’s Manhunter. The second actor, and perhaps the most well-known portrayal, is that of Anthony Heald who took on the role in both 1991’s The Silence of the Lambs and reprised the role in 2002’s Red Dragon.

Heald’s portrayal of Chilton is masterful – the Doctor is intelligent, but smarmy – officious and gladhanding – his pass at Clarice in the early moments of the film immediately puts the viewer off on him. Hannibal only seals the audience’s hatred of the Doctor by regaling Clarice with Chilton’s petty tortures of him, which are effectively contrasted by the treatment Hannibal receives from the ever-present orderly, Barney Matthews, played by awesome Frankie Faison, who treats Hannibal with a cautious respect, as a zookeeper might treat a venomous reptile. Barney never forgets what Hannibal is capable of. Chilton supposedly knows as evidenced by his relation of Hannibal’s biting attack on a nurse – he left only one of her eyes, ate her tongue without his pulse getting above 85 – but still, Chilton prods and humiliates Hannibal in unnecessary ways that LITERALLY come back to bite him in the end.

Esparza’s Chilton is as intelligent as Heald’s, but slightly more savvy, ounces more petty, a bit more of a drama queen, and as opposed to Heald’s Chilton, who is ostensibly tortured and eaten by Hannibal at the end of The Silence of the Lambs, Esparza’s Chilton, in Fuller’s hands, is the favorite whipping post of killers and law enforcement alike – being practically disemboweled by one murderer, shot in the face by a traumatized Ripper victim, and later suffers the fate that Harris’ original Freddy Lounds suffers, a lip-ectomy and burning at the hands of Francis Dolarhyde. Freddy Lounds dies in both Manhunter/Red Dragon from this attack, but in Fuller’s Hannibal, no matter what, Frederick Chilton continues to survive, almost Fuller’s own version of the endlessly respawning Kenny of South Park fame.

By my calculation, at the end of Season 3, Chilton is down 3 lives, so logic dictates that he has 6 left. If Fuller ever gets to make the full 7 seasons of Hannibal he imagines, if Chilton averages a death per season, he should survive the completed series with 2 lives left over, proving him to be the true winner of The Hannibal Games.

But, once again, I digress…

As Jack and Will sit in Chilton’s office, Chilton can barely seem to contain his curiosity about Will. Chilton’s open is clunky and obtuse; he says, “Doctor Bloom just called me about you, Mister Graham. Or should I call you Doctor Graham?” (Wu and Fuller 3). From his first line, Chilton seems to embody his later Season 2 remark, a gem from Harris’ canon, that attempting to analyze Will “makes [him] feel…like a freshman pulling at a panty girdle” (Fuller and Lightfoot 20). Chilton’s questions are telegraphed from a mile away – his overtures for more information are blunt and tasteless. Chilton’s questioning of Will, throughout the series, is contrasted with that of Hannibal – the difference is like watching a skilled surgeon with a scalpel as compared to a poorly trained medical student with a plastic spoon. Chilton can’t cut it, in any fashion. Will seems to understand this from the beginning – he sizes Chilton up correctly from their very first meeting.

In their conversation, Chilton betrays himself a little, saying of Nurse Shell, “I can’t help feeling responsible for what happened. I had sessions with Gideon for years…I had no idea what he was hiding. And now one of our staff is dead” (Wu and Fuller 4). Of course, this is foreshadowing of Hannibal ascertaining later in the episode that Chilton is indeed COMPLETELY at fault. However, the most interesting thing about this exchange is Jack Crawford’s reaction. The script indicates that after Chilton’s remark here, it “strikes a chord with Jack…who can relate” (Wu and Fuller 4). Undoubtedly this “relation” is about Miriam Lass, Crawford’s lost trainee, who is first introduced in this episode.

This is all important because of our lesson in this episode and because it highlights one of the driving motives of Jack’s character. In Episode 1, Jack and Alana agree that one of Will’s deepest motives is fear. If that is the case, then we can say that one of, perhaps the most, significant of Jack’s driving motivations is GUILT. Jack’s guilt is so present, so prevalent, so real, it is almost tangible. He feels guilt about Bella, about Miriam, later about Beverly, about Will, about Pazzi. His guilt is so weighty, so integral to his being, that often it overwhelms him, wobbles his sense of reason and the health of his psyche. Our lesson is not about guilt, but it is about an emotion Jack Crawford will not allow himself. In his position as Special Agent Jack Crawford, head of the FBI’s storied Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico, Jack does not allow himself much in the way of the easier emotions in life – laughter, joy, wonder – these are not things he can traffic in. Jack Crawford lives in a chapel of death. He is a chronicler of pain.

As Chilton continues to prod Will for information, Jack finally states, “Graham isn’t here to be analyzed” (Wu and Fuller 5). It’s funny to me how people in the show, including Will, keep insisting that he’s NOT THE ONE to be analyzed, but since the very first moments of Episode 1, even the murders seem secondary to everyone else’s analysis of Will. It’s ironic, but I imagine purposefully so. Chilton retorts that “perhaps” Will “should be” analyzed; Chilton wants Will to speak to his colleagues in the hospital, but then he stops himself, saying, “no, no, not this trip. Dr. Bloom was very severe with me on that point” (Wu and Fuller 5). I also find it quite ironic how no one listens to Alana’s advice about handling Will. It speaks to the usual patriarchal pooh-poohing of women, even when they are extremely accomplished members of professional fields. Thankfully, Bryan saw to it that everyone who discounts Alana’s advice winds up paying for it.

Just before escorting Jack and Will to the infirmary where Will can view the crime scene, Chilton says, “Next to a battle lost, the saddest thing is a battle won” (Wu and Fuller 6). This sentiment is attributed to the Duke of Wellington, and later to writer Robert Jordan, but to me the importance of it here is how it so perfectly illustrates the difference between Harris’ Chilton and Fuller’s Chilton. Every once in a while, especially in Season 3, Chilton seems to disinter these gems of wisdom from the muddy bottom of his intelligence. Often, lines like these, coming from Frederick are like an icepick of truth stabbed into the temple of the scene. A viewer who is familiar with all of the Hannibal canon can see – Fuller’s Chilton is smarter and more poetic than Harris’ Chilton, who is a slick, sad functionary who is both out of his depth with Hannibal Lecter and out of his league with Clarice Starling. Fuller’s Chilton is never in Hannibal’s league, but at times, real insight flashes up from the shallows of his brain, and it makes his character more sympathetic to the viewer. We feel sorry for Fuller’s Chilton. Harris’ Chilton never arouses such pity.

When Will and Jack finally view the nurse’s body, it is described as follows:

She’s IMPALED on the BROKEN FRAMES of several PRIVACY CURTAINS that have been fashioned into SPEARS. They PROTRUDE from wounds over the entire canvas of her body. Additional shards of wood and metal prop her organs above her corpse, giving them the appearance of floating outside her body.

(Wu and Fuller 6)

The visual of this tableaux is important, as it will contrast with the Chesapeake Ripper’s actual rendering of the famous medieval Wound Man shown later in the episode in a flashback. Later, Will calls this murder “plagiarism.” The viewer, especially one who has watched the entire series at least once, can understand Will’s assessment easily. The Chesapeake Ripper is an artist – even when his tableaux are deconstructionist in nature, like Beverly Katz’s murder scene in Season 2, there is still a lingering sense of the whole that once was. The essence of the thing that has been taken apart is still suggested by the Ripper’s composition. Gideon’s attempt at mimicry is just that – a sad parody. He merely skewered organs like Nurse Kabob. He merely jabbed implements in her like Nurse Pincushion. There is no whole left to be had. In Act One, we see the replaying of the gurney scene at the beginning of the episode, except this time with Will in Gideon’s place. This time, we see the attack on Nurse Shell; this time at the hands of Will, who is doing his mental recreation (pendulum swingy – this is my design-y) of the scene.

Will’s recreation here is filed very lovingly by the #FannibalFamily under the title, “THINGS THAT HAVE NO BUSINESS BEING INSANELY HOT,” but Goddamn it… it is.

It’s not just Will’s torn open shirt – it’s not just the visible sweat on his muscled chest and furrowed brow (although those things REALLY HELP) – it’s the power and the confidence Will exudes when he is in the mental guise of the killer. In truth, every time Will does a mental recreation of a crime, he becomes inordinately hotter because he is not the unsure, confused, flinchy Will Graham of outside-his-mind – he is the take-charge, aggressive, Will Graham with some goddamned agency, that he only seems to be able to muster when he slips into the minds of other people – that is until the end of Season 1, anyway. Will’s agency gets a glow up in “Savoureux,” just wait.

I will say that when Will gouges Nurse Shell’s eyes out with his thumbs, that’s a major ick for me. Eye stuff always deeply bothers me. I had two very invasive eye surgeries as a child and I think it makes me sensitive. The needle in the eye scene in Fire In the Sky is a trauma from which I will never recover.

After Will’s recreation is finished, the viewer is then treated to a flashback three years earlier when the character of Miriam Lass enters the series. It is well known that Miriam Lass, played astonishingly by Anna Chlumsky, is Bryan’s substitute for/homage to the character of Clarice Starling, who, because of copyright issues, Bryan could not use in Hannibal. This, of course, is a damn shame, because Clarice is a god-level character and I would love, love, love to see what Bryan could do with her. (I would also like – if we ever get future seasons – to see Ardelia Mapp, Barney Matthews, and Multiple Miggs show up, but I digress…)

Miriam and Clarice share similar backgrounds – they were both FBI Forensic Fellows – Clarice had the great distinction of studying under fingerprint examiner par excellence, Jimmy Price – but they both came through the same program there and at the FBI Academy. Their university degrees differ a little – Clarice is the daughter of a lawman, which Miriam does not seem to be – but both women are the same with regards to their stunning intellects, dogged determination, and their fascinations with and devotions to “the Guru,” Jack Crawford. It reminds me of a passage from The Silence of the Lambs. At the end of the chapter, (I tell you, Thomas Harris knows how to end a fucking chapter) – after Starling and Crawford return from the Potter Funeral Home in West Virginia, Harris writes, “She watched him walk away, a middle-aged man laden with cases and rumpled from flying, his cuffs muddy from the riverbank, going home to what he did at home. She would have killed for him then. That was one of Crawford’s great talents” (96).

Jack tells Miriam that he has culled her from the herd of FBI hopefuls to work for him in the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program (VICAP) because she is at the top of her class, has impressive credentials, and wrote him a fan letter when she was accepted into the Academy. When Jack brings up the Ripper, he says, “The Ripper is very hot right now” (Wu and Fuller 10). Jack is, of course, indicating that the Ripper is on a spree, having taken “his last two victims in six days” (Wu and Fuller 10). But I can’t help but think of Zoolander every time I hear Jack make this remark. “Ooooh, that Ripper – he’s so hot right now…” And let’s be honest, if there’s anyone who could pull off a perfect “Blue Steel,” it’s Mads Mikkelsen.

Miriam impresses Jack with her assessment of the Ripper – not a “true sociopath,” but a killer with “some of the characteristics of what they call a sociopath,” but that in truth, “they don’t know what else to label him” (Wu and Fuller 10). Jack then begins briefing Miriam on the case and we are flashed back to the present and find ourselves sitting with Alana and Will in Frederick Chilton’s office.

Alana and Will are both there to interview Gideon – they will be conducting their interviews separately and then comparing notes. Chilton is “convinced” Gideon is the Ripper (when he knows damned well he’s not), Will is convinced Gideon is NOT the Ripper – Alana is unsure. Chilton informs Alana that even though she only had two sessions with Gideon when he was first admitted to the BSHCI, Gideon has “given [her] a lot of thought” since then (Wu and Fuller 12). It ups the creep factor and of course mirrors the novel Red Dragon, like much of this scene does, except that the inmate is Hannibal Lecter and the person he’s “given a lot of thought to” is Will Graham. Hannibal thinking a lot about Will is deep canon. Always has been. Always will be.

Alana goes into interview Gideon first – when she does, the script indicates, “The STEEL DOOR of the maximum security section closed behind Alana Bloom. She hears the bolt slide home” (Wu and Fuller 13).

I’m always deeply thrilled at how often the writers of Hannibal return to the “Forward to a Fatal Interview” from Harris’ Red Dragon and snatch little phrases from it they leave like glistening Easter eggs for fans to find. This is one such bejeweled egg – a Faberge of one, in fact. This forward is about how Thomas Harris came to create the characters of Will Graham, Clarice Starling, and most importantly, Hannibal Lecter. In the final paragraph, he says, “When in the winter of 1979 I entered the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane and the great metal door crashed closed behind me, little did I know what waited at the end of the corridor; how seldom we recognize the sound when the bolt of our fate slides home” (XIII).

An adaptation is a beautiful thing when you have such beautiful source material to work with. I am forever fascinated by what different filmmakers and actors have done with the Hannibal canon, but we cannot, should not, ever forget the mind that created it and created such compelling characters that withstand the test of time and are enriched every time a new generation of writers and viewers return to them.

The interviews between Alana and Gideon and Will and Gideon are now intercut with each other, a wonderful technique that allows the viewers to compare and contrast for themselves, the differences and similarities between Alana and Will in their questioning, the differences between Gideon’s reactions to Alana and to Will. The most important fact that seems to arise from the interview is when Will says to Gideon about the death of Nurse Shell, “Brutalization of the body was done posthumously. The Chesapeake Ripper usually does that sort of thing during, not after” (Wu and Fuller 15). Will never buys Gideon as the Ripper. His other murders were spontaneous, not planned. Gideon is not an artist; he’s a plagiarist. What Will can’t figure out is why Gideon is copping to murders he didn’t commit.

We begin Act Two with Jack Crawford arriving unannounced at Hannibal’s office, just as the Doctor is about to leave for the day. Hannibal asks if Jack was just “in the neighborhood?” – Jack answers, “Something like that” (Wu and Fuller 16). This line is one of those TV/film chestnuts that you hear over and over and it never actually happens in real life. I have never in my life had someone show up at my door saying they were “just in the neighborhood.” Just like I have never had a cat suddenly jump on me from some unseen elevated position when I am in a darkened alleyway or corridor and things feel all spooky. It’s film logic. It’s kooky, but it works.

Bella is out of town and Jack has come to Hannibal to pry some sort of information out of him about Bella’s cancer – how she’s feeling, what she’s saying, what she thinks – all of which she is not telling Jack and all of which Hannibal cannot tell Jack due to doctor-patient confidentiality. Jack becomes angry. Their conversation is enlightening with regards to Hannibal’s character:

JACK CRAWFORD: You talk to me about Will Graham.

HANNIBAL: Will Graham isn’t officially my patient. We have conversations.

JACK CRAWFORD: What do you consider this?

HANNIBAL: Desperate coping.

(Wu and Fuller 17)

The line here – “desperate coping” – is such a wonderful illustration of how accurately Hannibal is portrayed as having some sociopathic tendencies or at least the tendencies of a narcissist. Throughout the series, Hannibal shows how he can go cold at a moment’s notice – how he can so easily shift from a seemingly caring, compassionate individual to a nightmare of stone-faced, murder-eyed calm. It’s terrifying. I was once very much in love with a man who could do this – he was not a murderer, but he could go dead-eyed and cold on you like this in seconds – and you never knew when it was coming. It scared the shit out of me.

Some might say that Hannibal’s line here is compassionate, that he feels for Jack and his attempts to handle the imminent death of his wife – but I think the line is meant to cut Jack to the quick – he slices right into the meat of Jack’s pain here – as if to say, “Yeah, your wife’s dying. Pull it together, wimp.”

It is canon that Hannibal prods people to cause pain – it is entirely for his own pleasure. A good example is from The Silence of the Lambs. When Hannibal meets with Senator Martin, supposedly to tell her the “real name” of Buffalo Bill (ha ha), he makes a cutting remark about the Senator breastfeeding her daughter when she was a baby. Then this happens: “When her pupils darkened, Dr. Lecter took a single sip of her pain and found it exquisite. That was enough for today” (201).

The man drinks pain. What else is there to say?

Then Hannibal immediately “salves” the wound he has created (“Salve” is the word used in the script directions) – saying “I’ll offer this one insight: she thinks she married the right guy” (Wu and Fuller 17). See Hannibal playing with Jack? Always playing.

Jack then says, “I look at her side of the bed and wonder if she’s going to die there or where she’ll die and I feel myself going uncomfortably numb” (Wu and Fuller 18). I believe this to be a reference to Jack’s actual, canon death that Thomas Harris wrote for him in the novel, Hannibal. It is a death that I completely understand but hate like fire because I think a character like Jack deserved a lot better. I feel that Bryan was writing a better end for Jack.

The end in question is as follows. Clarice Starling has already been drugged and hypnotized, pulled into a strange “relationship” with Hannibal – they live in Buenos Aires together under assumed names. Clarice finds out that Jack has died from the FBI website. Apparently, “after Crawford was home for a month from the hospital, the chest pains came again in the night. Instead of calling an ambulance and going through it all again, he chose simply to roll over to the solace of his late wife’s side of the bed” (483).

I understand it, but dammit Jack deserves better. I believe Bryan was going to give him better. At least he gets to go to Italy and kick Hannibal’s ass. At least he gets another chance.

Jack and Hannibal have a conversation about loss, which leads Hannibal to ask, “Who else couldn’t you save, Jack?” (Wu and Fuller 18). Once again, Hannibal pokes at the wound, tugs at the scab. We know full well that Hannibal has Miriam Lass hidden in a damp, darkened oubliette of a well in a secret farmhouse – all wet and cold with a missing arm in a dirty nightgown and in desperate need of some wet wipes and dry shampoo. We know this – which means all of this questioning about “the lost trainee” is just Hannibal enjoying himself, just Hannibal savoring Jack’s pain. I really do think he lets Miriam live because he likes her – (the same reason book/film Hannibal lets Clarice live – she’s a “deep roller”) – but I also think he lets Miriam live solely to give her back to Jack – just like he gives Bella back to Jack when he thwarts her suicide attempt. Just as he takes Abigail away from Will, then gives her back, then takes her away again – Lucy and the football. Hannibal is “curious” what will happen, but also because he loves the pain. Pain is so much more than hum-drum everyday life – and Hannibal doesn’t like mundane pain – like the worries and neurotic spoutings of Franklyn Froidveaux or Neal Frank, no. Hannibal wants Greek tragedy level pain – a boy who wants to be a killing monster, a girl who wants to kill the brother who has been raping her all her life, a man watching his wife die, a man torturing himself with guilt because he lost another girl, and Will Graham, whose pain is beautiful in its kaleidoscopic, ever-changing qualities – it is always the pain of the killer he is profiling, the victim he is investigating, and sometimes, Will’s own deeply buried pain, abandoned by mom, distant from dad, outcast at school, outcast among colleagues, always alone and beautiful, always alone and confused – in terms of pain, Will is 31 Flavors.

At this point, Jack refuses to tell Hannibal about Miriam Lass – but later on he breaks. The breaking is always Hannibal’s favorite part.

We are now flashed back again to three years earlier; we see Miriam and Jack surveying the Wound Man tableaux rendered by the authentic Chesapeake Ripper. The victim is lashed to his worktable, and all of his tools from the peg board on which they once hung are dug into the man’s body in varying places all over the corpse.

This is not an unfamiliar moment. Jack with a whip-smart profiler assessing the carnage of a crime scene; he has also cleared the way for that profiler by sending all “the others” – the crime scene techs and photographers and forensic creatures -- away. Jack seems to understand that the brilliant ones need to be unfettered by noise and stimuli, even before Will Graham joins his pack. Miriam concludes several important things about both the murder and the murderer, namely that the victim was awake during the attack, and that the Ripper was selective about the organs he harvested. Miriam calls these organs “surgical trophies” – in this way, she is half right (Wu and Fuller 19). It is Will who will determine that the Ripper’s trophies are edible and et. The Ripper is a medical doctor, male, and – and I love this line – “exotic somehow” (Wu and Fuller 19). I believe the “exotic somehow” is meant to refer to the fact that Hannibal Lecter is European. I assume Europeans do not consider themselves “exotic,” but most Americans are flabbergasted by anyone with an accent different than theirs, so… If “exotic” is referring to the fact that the Ripper is being played by masterful and devastatingly beautiful actor Mads Mikkelsen, then yes, he's EXOTIC AS FUCK. Point is, he’s not your run-of-the-mill American. He owns a cravat – more than one probably. He probably has a bidet – he calls sedans “saloons” – and he buys all his table linens and china at Christofle. Miriam compliments Jack’s “peculiar cleverness” and we move out of the scene back into the morgue at the BAU, where Team Sassy Science is examining Nurse Shell’s body and Will is observing (Wu and Fuller 20).

The team is discussing the similarities between Nurse Shell’s murder and the Wound Man murder. They are attempting to rule Abel Gideon IN or OUT. They are unsure how Gideon could have known about the wound patterns the Ripper inflicted on his victims because those details were kept away from the press. Will says, “I see the Ripper but I don’t… feel the Ripper. He’s an artist. This is… plagiarism” (Wu and Fuller 21). Will has his finger on Hannibal’s pulse from the very beginning of the show – whether it be Hannibal as the Copy Cat or Hannibal as the Ripper – when Will finally realizes the two are one and the same, it seems like something that has been on the tip of his tongue since the very beginning. And Will is also very correct in assessing that the real Chesapeake Ripper is not going to let Gideon take credit for his work.

We end Act Two with Jack Crawford at home, asleep in his bed alone, his wife still out of town at a NATO summit. The phone rings. Jack shakes awake and picks up the phone. The clock reads 2:47 A.M. Clocks are an important motif in Hannibal, especially in Season 1. I will address what I think the motif means when I get deeper into Season 1, when Will’s encephalitis begins to worsen, but needless to say – clocks are humankind’s desperate attempt to not only measure but control time – and quite frankly, time rarely cooperates.

When Jack answers the phone, he doesn’t recognize the voice at first – or perhaps he doesn’t believe what he is hearing. The words said by the caller are important because it is these words used to torment Jack for the rest of the episode:

MIRIAM LASS’S VOICE: Jack… Jack… Jack… It’s Miriam. I don’t know where I am. I can’t see anything. I was so wrong. I was so wrong. Please… Jack… I don’t want to die like this. (Wu and Fuller 20).

And then the line goes dead.

We start Act Three back at the BAU. Beverly Katz has checked all the online databases for telecom systems and says she cannot find a trace of any call to Jack’s home at 2:47 AM. As Brian Zeller continues to question Jack’s skills of perception and memory (that maybe Jack dreamed it, that he doesn’t remember what Miriam sounds like), Jimmy Price points out, “whoever called could have tapped in from that little box outside your house. Or the junction in your neighborhood. There would be no trace signal to track” (Wu and Fuller 23). We, the viewer, know this is exactly what the Ripper – Hannibal Lecter – has done, solely because he is Hannibal Lecter, the James Bond/MacGyver of serial killers. He is a psychiatrist, a medical doctor and a surgeon; he speaks/reads/writes at least four languages that we know of. He is a world-class chef, butcher, snail cultivator, beer brewer – he can tie knots, sew, handle a variety of weapons. He can fist-fight – he can ballroom dance. He can give lectures on Dante in the medieval Italian. Obviously, he knows how to tap a phone line. I also feel very certain that Hannibal can fly a plane, hack into any computer (although he finds it distasteful), make his own soap (Fight Club style), and he knows at least one martial art, if not more.

Incidentally, tapping into phone lines is also something Francis Dolarhyde can do – both later in Season 3 when he taps into the phone line at Hannibal’s office and calls Hannibal in the BSHCI with the call masked as Hannibal’s lawyer. But, according to Bryan, the Marlow murder in “Apéritif” is one of Francis’ early murders, and he had to tap into the Marlow phone line to record Mrs. Marlow’s call to the security company. It occurs to me that being a serial killer must create endless hobbies, solely based on things you have to learn, like phone tapping, lock picking, glass cutting, tree-climbing, and “this-is-my-designing.”

Will points out that the 2:47 call obviously didn’t come from the BSHCI, and therefore, could not have been Abel Gideon. When Brian Zeller again suggests that perhaps Jack dreamed the call, Jack shouts at him, “I know when I’m awake” (Wu and Fuller 24). The script then indicates, “Will reacts to that, not always sure he knows the same” (Wu and Fuller 24). Poor Will’s encephalitis is worsening. It only serves to isolate him from others who might possibly help him. And the only person he thinks can help him is actively worsening his condition. I forgive him later, but from this point through the end of Season 1, I am mad as hell at Hannibal. My loyalty is to Will. Hannibal not only doesn’t help my poor baby, he purposely alienates Will from the people who could help him. Grrrrrrr…

Next, we see Will in his classroom at Quantico. Soon, he hears the clacking of hooves on the floor of the corridor. When he looks up, he sees the Black Stag sidling toward him – then this vision morphs into the reality of the circumstance, Alana Bloom and Jack Crawford walking into the room. Jack floats the idea of baiting the Ripper with a well-placed story in the media, a story that will anger the Ripper because the reporter will heavily suggest that Abel Gideon is the REAL Chesapeake Ripper. Will thinks the scheme is dangerous. He says, “You might push the Ripper to kill again just to prove he isn’t in a hospital for the criminally insane;” to which Jack replies, “I have to push, Will” (Wu and Fuller 26). Jack’s statement is very telling – not just about his relentless pursuit of the Ripper, but of himself as a person. Jack does indeed “push.” He pushes everyone. He pushes Will so hard he practically has a nervous breakdown. He pushes him into the hands of the Ripper himself. He pushes Miriam so hard, he pushes her into that same man’s hands. He pushes his wife so hard, she flees to that same man for advice.

Considering that Hannibal and Jack don’t officially meet until Episode 1, Hannibal is already WAAAY involved in Jack’s life and already deeply embedded in Jack’s head. It’s funny upon their first meeting in “Apéritif,” that Jack is meeting his nemesis and doesn’t know it. The man who took Miriam from him, who will take Will from him, who will take Beverly from him, who will almost take Jack’s own life. Talk about “a bolt of fate sliding home.”

Will is disgusted with the idea that Jack is going to cahoot with Freddie Lounds, but you know how Jack has to push, so the next scene reveals Freddie Lounds entering a conference room at Quantico to meet with Jack, Will, and Alana. Jack and Alana are amiable and friendly to Freddie; Will is cold and bitchy (and insanely hot…) Jack tells Freddie he wants her to confirm her story about Gideon being the Ripper. Alana promises to talk to Chilton to get Freddie an interview with Gideon. In one of my favorite of Freddie’s lines, she says, “Not to snap bubblegum and crack wise, but what’s my angle? Is he the Chesapeake Ripper or you just want me to tell everybody he is” (Wu and Fuller 28). Jack suggests he could be because Gideon is a surgeon. The three then discuss the fabled list of professions which psychopaths most favor – journalists and law enforcement being two more. I often wonder if there is also a list of professions that psychos LEAST inhabit. Like, in the bowels of the BAU, a criminal profiler is saying, “Well, we know he’s not a pet psychic, a cupcake baker, or a crossword puzzle author, so we can rule those out! Thank God!”

We are then transported to the high security sector of the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane and see stylishly dressed and coiffed Freddie Lounds entering the prison and introducing herself to Abel Gideon.

When Freddie’s story is finished and published to Tattlecrime.com, we then see Hannibal at his desk with his little tablet reading it – his face as close to “bothered” as you ever see Hannibal come. This is the same face he makes when Franklyn leaves a soiled tissue on his end table, when Mason Verger stabs his chair. I like to call it Hannibal’s ��I’m About To Cut a Bitch” face. This is one thing I will say for Mads Mikkelsen over and over again – he acts with every part of his body, including his beautiful face. Fannibals love to discuss Mads’ microexpressions – the little twitches at the corners of his eyes, the dead-eyed, yet sarcastic stares, the tears that appear from nowhere, the minute turnings of his lips into wry smiles – and the most prized being the MIKKELSNARL, the King of All Expressions. The look on his face when reading Freddie Lounds’ story makes you fear for her. Amazingly, she survives. It’s actually insane.

We then see Dr. Chilton and Alana dining with Hannibal at his home. Hannibal says that the dish is a lamb tongue served with Duxelle sauce and mushrooms, created by famous French chef Auguste Escoffier. After some tongue wagging amongst the diners, Hannibal says to Chilton, “Don’t give me ideas. Your tongue is very feisty and as this evening has already proven, it’s nice to have an old friend for dinner” (Wu and Fuller 30). This line is, of course, a tribute to the ending scene of The Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal’s phone call to Clarice in which he implies he will be soon killing and eating the bumbling Dr. Chilton. As previously stated, Fuller’s Chilton stubbornly survives every season.

Alana, Frederick, and Hannibal begin discussing Abel Gideon. Frederick proudly claims Gideon to be the Ripper. Alana begins questioning Frederick and asks, “Is it possible that you inadvertently planted the suggestion in Gideon’s mind that he was the Ripper?” (Wu and Fuller 31). Frederick replies, “Psychic driving is unethical” (Wu and Fuller 32).

I have to admit that I NEVER heard the term “psychic driving” before Hannibal. Truly, it sounds like a Cronenberg video game for the Atari 2600. Hannibal says that psychic driving is allowable “in certain circumstances” and actually seems to arouse some gentle suspicion from both Alana and Frederick (Wu and Fuller 32). They don’t seem suspicious that Hannibal is the Ripper – we are a looooong way from that – but they both seem a little shocked that Hannibal might condone the practice, even in narrow cases. Hannibal so desperately wants to play, I think he actually overplays his hand here. He so rarely gives anything away and usually only does so on purpose – perhaps Hannibal’s admission is just to facilitate the conversation Hannibal has in the kitchen with Frederick, in which he states that he believes Frederick already has “psychically driven” Gideon, but it seems a little haphazard to me. Perhaps he’s still amped up because Freddie Lounds has landed a hit on him.

Speaking of Gideon, we now see him in his cell at the BSHCI, this time being questioned by Jack, who states point blank to the prisoner, “You’re not the Chesapeake Ripper” (Wu and Fuller 33). Gideon tries to convince Jack, tries weakly to explain why he, supposedly as the Ripper, takes surgical trophies, why he didn’t display the bodies of his wife and her family, and so on. Gideon ascertains that Jack is not concerned with those prior crimes.

DR. GIDEON: But you’re not here to talk about my wife or even the night nurse.

JACK CRAWFORD: What am I here to talk about?

DR. GIDEON: Your trainee. Miriam something.

(Wu and Fuller 34)

This minor detail, the fact that Gideon does not know Miriam’s last name, proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that Gideon is not, cannot be the Chesapeake Ripper. The real Ripper, Hannibal Lecter, has a meticulous memory palace built in his mind. Thomas Harris explains the grandiose proportions of the Doctor’s psychic estate in both Hannibal and Hannibal Rising. In Hannibal, Harris even treats us to a description of the palace’s interior. It has a “Great Hall of the Seasons… [a] hall of looms and textiles…[and a] Hall of Addresses,” just to name a few wings (252-254). Hannibal actually retrieves Clarice Starling’s address from this cognitive library, buried in a mental construction that Harris says, “is vast, even by medieval standards” (252).

I know for a fact that Hannibal Lecter remembers the name of every victim he ever killed, how he killed them, what organs/limbs he took, what dish he made with them, and how they tasted. There is no way he forgets a victim’s name. With the exception of the incidental goons from the Questura in Season 3 or Mason Verger’s goons, Hannibal knows the name of every victim he chooses. No way he would forget Miriam’s last name. Gideon is an amateur.

As their conversation continues, Jack’s phone rings. He walks out of Gideon’s cell block to answer the call as the caller ID announces the number as “HOME.” Jack misses the call and redials. He believes the caller to be his wife, having returned early from her trip. Whoever answers the phone (you know who), then plays the same haunting recorded message – Miriam Lass scared, alone, and begging Jack to help her.

Immediately, we are in Jack Crawford’s bedroom, where Team Sassy Science is pulling and processing evidence from Jack’s bedroom carpet, bedside phone, and even his wife’s pillow. Will is once again observing. Jimmy Price pulls three sets of prints from the phone – the first two sets are identified as Jack’s and his wife’s. The third set is later identified as belonging to Miriam Lass. Beverly even finds a long blonde hair on Bella’s pillow. Will, of course, asks questions: “Did Miriam Lass know where you live?... Did you know you were sending her after [the Chesapeake Ripper?]…” and then states, “Whoever made that phone call thinks you were close to Miriam Lass and feel responsible for her death;” to which Jack replies, “She was my trainee. I am responsible for her death” (Wu and Fuller 36). Jimmy Price floats the idea that Miriam may be alive since her prints are on the phone. Jack cannot accept the idea.

This new evidence spins Jack into another flashback – the circumstance of Jack’s last meeting with Miriam – the last time he saw her alive. They are back at Quantico – Miriam has skipped a class called “Exclusionary Rules of Search and Seizure” to ask Jack’s opinion about a report she left on his desk (Wu and Fuller 37). Jack seems needlessly cruel to Miriam in this scene. He tells her “go back to class” and “Frustrated, Lass? Better start forming a callus or frustration is going to wear you through” (Wu and Fuller 37).

This is perhaps one of the reasons Jack feels so guilty about Miriam’s death, or what he believes to be, death. In their last conversation, he wasn’t very nice. This is one of the unfortunate things about life. The last time I saw my father, the night before he died, the last thing I said to him was, “Dad, don’t eat all that ice cream.” My father was a diabetic and my mother and we children fought him tooth and nail to eat better. Towards the end of his life, he merely circumvented us – he hid Snickers bars in the clothes hamper, peanut butter crackers in the visor in his truck – he finally just broke down and started buying all the sweets he wanted himself since my mother refused to buy them. He was unstoppable. The last time I saw him, he was digging into a half-gallon of Blue Bell chocolate ice cream, and so I told him not to eat it all. All he said to me was, “Bye.”

If I had known that was the last time I would ever see him alive, I would have told him that I loved him. I would have told him that even though he was a shitty dad, abusive and obstreperous, that I still loved him, and I always would. I have to content myself with the idea that either my dad knew that I loved him or he just didn’t care.

Miriam’s report makes a smart but dangerous suggestion in the hunt for the Chesapeake Ripper. She explains, “If the Chesapeake Ripper is a surgeon, we should look at medical records of all the known victims” (Wu and Fuller 38). Jack points out that this search would obviously be illegal – medical records fall under very tight privacy laws. Then, the following conversation proves yet another thing to the viewer about Jack’s character:

JACK CRAWFORD: It’s one thing for a trainee to go poking around private medical records without a warrant, very much another if “The Guru” did it…

MIRIAM LASS: Better for a trainee to ask for forgiveness than an FBI agent to ask for permission?

JACK CRAWFORD: In my experience.

(Wu and Fuller 38).

There is something to be said of the fact that this is exactly the way that Jack “loses” people. This strategy is how he loses Will, how he loses Beverly – sending subordinates to do things he can’t do. I suppose it is a comment on larger patriarchal culture – how men in power get little people to do their dirty work for them – everything from cleaning their toilets to fighting their wars. It is not lost on me that two of the people that Jack “loses” this way are women. Strong, stubborn, beautiful women who went off doing things Jack couldn’t do because of “rules.” I love Jack Crawford with all my heart – but he should feel guilty. The loss of Miriam Lass IS very much his fault.

After this conversation, Miriam wanders off to begin her search of the medical records and we are flashed back into the present where we see Alana Bloom again at the BSHCI, again interviewing Dr. Gideon. Two scenes here at the end of Act Four and the beginning of Act Five, one where Will has a conversation with Chilton, and one where there is a lockdown in the prison were cut from the final episode, so I shall skip them.

The scene we alight upon is Jack, back in the present, walking down a hallway at the Academy, and once again his phone rings. Jack accepts the grim possibility that the call might once again be the Ripper taunting him and answers it. It brings us to one of the most interesting and important locales in the series, the abandoned observatory. The real location is the David Dunlap Observatory in Richmond Hill, Ontario, Canada. We see the observatory several times in the series – it is always a place of gruesome revelations.

We see Will, Beverly, and Jack approaching the building – Beverly explaining that the last call Jack received from the Ripper “traced here. Or within a 100 feet of here” (Wu and Fuller 42). Jack then redials the last number the Ripper called from – one that wasn’t masked or anonymous. They hear a distant ringing coming from inside the observatory.

They enter the building, and underneath a bunch of discarded equipment, at the base of the main telescope, they find a severed arm, the hand holding the ringing cell phone. A note on a card beneath the arm says, “What do you see?” (Wu and Fuller 43). The viewer understands that this is Miriam Lass’ arm – it explains the fingerprints on the phone in Jack’s bedroom.

I must say, I do find the image kind of funny… Hannibal in his squeaky murder suit – which I affectionately call his “garment bag” because DAMMIT that’s what it looks like – a garment bag with sleeves turned sideways – in Jack’s bedroom, opening a plastic bag and tweezing out one of Miriam’s head hairs, laying it on Bella’s pillow – making the call from Jack’s bedside phone and then laying Miriam’s decapitated hand over the receiver – pressing the finger pads down with his own to make sure the prints stick. I always imagine Hannibal waving Miriam’s arm around with a dramatic flourish when he’s done – like some morbid maestro conducting an insane symphony all of his own composition.

The episode ends with a flashback – Miriam Lass showing up at Hannibal’s office door to question him. The Wound Man victim was a “Jeremy Olmstead” Hannibal had treated for an arrow wound in his thigh the man received while bow hunting – when Hannibal worked in the emergency room, most likely at Maryland Misericordia Hospital in Baltimore. Hannibal says he doesn’t remember the man (he totally remembers) – but under the guise of going to retrieve his notes from the years he worked in the ER, he leaves the room, removes his shoes, and then in his stocking feet creeps up behind Miriam, just as she discovers Hannibal’s own Wound Man drawing and begins to realize the trouble she is in. Hannibal begins choking Miriam – this is the episode’s second installment of “THINGS THAT HAVE NO BUSINESS BEING INSANELY HOT.”

The script describes the scene as follows:

Hannibal is like a column of marble, motionless as Miriam twists and throws, trying in vain to knock him off balance. She reaches behind her head, clawing at Hannibal but he presses his face almost sensually against the back of her neck to protect face and eyes from her slashing fingernails. Miriam’s eyes roll, defeated, tear-filled, knowing she’s going to die. She begins to go limp in Hannibal’s arms.

(Wu and Fuller 48).

This scene is an homage to the same scene in Red Dragon when Hannibal attacks Will from behind, just as Will spies a medical book on Hannibal’s bookshelves that contains the Wound Man drawing. Will’s gut is slashed by Hannibal in this attack – in Fuller’s Hannibal, Will’s gut is spared until the end of Season 2.

This is why I adore Bryan’s Hannibal so much – it is not just an adaptation; it is a remix. Scenes are moved and laid in the hands of different characters. Conversations are shifted – things Hannibal said to Clarice, he says to Will – characters are gender-swapped or their fates are interchanged. Much of Bryan’s remix remains the same – like the tiger scene between Reba and Francis in Season 3 – but so much of it is recut, reimagined, broken down and put back together. Hannibal is an artist of deconstruction and reconstruction and so is Bryan. I still say and always will that Hannibal is the best show ever on television. Good God, it is that fucking good.

But, you ask, “JESUS CHRIST! WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO GET TO THE LESSON?” I shall now deliver.

The lesson takes place in the scene just before Miriam’s attack. After having discovered Miriam’s decapitated arm, Jack is badly rattled and goes to see Hannibal at his office. When questioned by Hannibal as to what he believes the Ripper’s motives are for trying to convince him that Miriam is alive, Jack responds “Hope. The Ripper wanted to cloud my vision in the fog of hope;” Hannibal then says, “It can sometimes be brave to allow yourself hope” (Wu and Fuller 44).

Hannibal then asks Jack when he gave up hope that Miriam would be found alive and then makes the leap from one woman in Jack’s life to another saying, “Don’t give up hope for your wife. Not yet” (Wu and Fuller 44). At the end of the scene, Hannibal coaxes Jack into telling him about Miriam, even asking what her name was. I have to say it, but making Jack tell him, as if he is absolutely unknowing of the details, about Miriam Lass and her disappearance seems almost masturbatory to me – Jack is talking dirty to Hannibal and doesn’t even know it. Hannibal sits there, absorbing every minutiae, every crease of pain in Jack’s face, every flutter of guilt in his eyes, enjoying every moment knowing exactly where Miriam is, and how she disappeared. Perhaps it is in this discussion with Jack that Hannibal decides to spare Miriam’s life. Perhaps that was always his plan. Hannibal couldn’t have known he would be called in to consult with Jack on his beautiful, but twitchy profiler, so who knows how long he was willing to wait, keeping Miriam alive, bleeding her for info that would bring him directly into Jack’s domain. All of it is devious and cruel.

It is perhaps the cruelest of things for Hannibal to talk to Jack about hope. The viewer knows that Hannibal is the one who has given Jack this “false kind” of hope (Wu and Fuller 44). It is important to remember that on a first time viewing, an audience member is not aware that Miriam is still alive. Just as on a first time viewing, the audience does not know that Abigail Hobbs is still alive after her ear turns up in Will’s gullet and then his sink. This “give the desperate loved ones a piece of their missing people and taunt them with hope” like a sadistic kidnapper, but one with no asking price, is a pattern Hannibal uses twice in the series – both times to manipulate people he cares for – to spin them in circles and watch the motion – no doubt in this spinning, Hannibal searches for weak spots, but he also delights in their pain and confusion.

It is interesting to think that the people Hannibal seems to care most about are the ones he plays with in this way. Will, Jack, Bedelia – he offers hope; he yanks it away. He lies and lies until suddenly, at the precise moment it will make the greatest impact, he tells the truth. A colossal tease is Hannibal Lecter. But he plays with these people because they interest him enough to invest time and effort into them, into both their pain and their pleasure.

Hannibal pokes at Jack’s hope not just about Miriam, but about Bella. As a surgeon, Hannibal knows the hope for Bella is even more of a longshot than for Miriam. But he wants Jack to hope because without hope, there is nothing to lose. It is best that Jack, Will, Bedelia, Alana – that all of them have something to hope for, something to lose. They will all become truly dangerous to Hannibal if they don’t. Which is basically what happens with most of Season 2 to Will, and for Jack and Alana in Season 3 – vengeance arcs – when Hannibal has stripped them of hope.

Our lesson resides in Hannibal’s line: “It can sometimes be brave to allow yourself hope” (Wu and Fuller 44). Leaving aside Hannibal’s qualifying statement of “sometimes,” the most important diction in this line is of “brave” and “allow.”

Mostly, we allow hope for others. For a sick friend, a family down on their luck, a whole group, a whole country – a sports team or a heroic dog – we can give our hope to them. That makes sense. And it feels good.

But often, hope is not a thing we are willing to give ourselves. It seems like something only for other people, like compliments or compassion or birthday cakes. Hannibal says it’s “brave” to allow ourselves hope because when our lives are in abject turmoil, hope is the last thing we want to give ourselves because… hope hurts. When things don’t turn out as we want – when we don’t get the promotion – we lose the contest – we fail the test – we screw up the date – or worse yet, our loved one dies – when we crash and burn, utterly crash and burn – we remember the hope we had beforehand and say, “You fool. You stupid fucking fool. How did you even dare to hope?”

And so the lesson, dear reader, is this – as he often is – Hannibal is right (the bastard…)

It is brave. Let yourself have it.

ALLOW YOURSELF HOPE. BE BRAVE.

I know it seems easy for me to say. It’s not. It’s hard for me too. Some days, I just can’t do it. But you and me… we’ve got to keep trying. I deserve hope. And so do you.

It seems impossible is this world full of pain and death and smiling villains.

But if Jack Crawford can muster hope from a decapitated arm and a dying wife who won’t talk to him, you and I can too.

Here endeth the lesson…

References:

Fuller, Bryan and Steve Lightfoot. Writers. “Kaiseki.” Hannibal, season 2, episode 1, Chiswick Productions, 2014.

Harris, Thomas. “Foreword to a Fatal Interview.” Red Dragon, by Harris, Berkley, 2000, pp. IX-XIII).

Harris, Thomas. Hannibal. New York, Delacorte Press, 1999.

Harris, Thomas. The Silence of the Lambs. New York, St. Martin’s Press, 1990.

“Judges 8:27.” King James Bible Online, www.kingjamesbibleonline.org/

Judges-8-27.

Wu, Kai Yu and Bryan Fuller. Writers. “Entrée.” Hannibal, season 1, episode 6, Chiswick Productions, 2012.

#lessonsofhannibal #hannibal #fannibals #fannibalfamilyforever

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vivianleighwishesshewasme · 2 months ago

Text

Study Buddies chapter 2

Well Wishes

John Shelby was still out two weeks into the group project. Pneumonia was the culprit. The Doctor had been fetched when Tommy’s tablets stopped helping to reduce the fever and John’s conversations with their mother persisted. Tommy couldn’t take the constant delusional chatter and worry that their mother had a hold on John and was truly coming to take him. He’d also never admit it out loud but he was jealous that she was talking to John and not him.

Polly was run ragged. Couldn’t even sleep herself sick with worry. Tommy worried when she had set fire to her skirts one morning. She hadn’t done that since she was eight and didn’t know better. One more day and he knew she’d have been unfortunately successful to no fault of her own. She slept in the wooden chair near John's bed most nights praying over him. When she was able to slip away it was to work at the betting shop or light a candle for him.

He was on the mend though thanks to Polly, her soups, water and the tablets the Doctor had prescribed John. The opium to help him sleep probably didn’t hurt either.

A soft knock on the door alerted the room's owner. After a soft,” come in” Polly walked in with a bright smile on her face. He had been up and down all day. Almost equal in time now meaning he was getting better. She had come with a tray of tea, biscuits and a small bowl of bread and soup. That bread he had smelled for almost two weeks now off and on. It was heavenly.

“John, you up for company?” Polly asked tenderly while placing down the tray and distributing everything in front of him. She took out a tablet and passed it to him. She did everything to the exact hour. He took the tablet and swallowed the tea. She smiled and affectionately ruffled his hair. He looked up at her and grinned.

“Quit messing up my hair Pol. I’m alive thanks to you and Tommy eh.” He playfully swatted at her earning him a light smack on the shoulder. He chuckled. He was feeling a lot better. Grateful he had made it. He was tired of sleeping. His body now ached from laying down all day. He rotated his shoulder and reached for the bread, happy to dunk it into the soup. Best bread he’d ever had in his entire life.

“Well, you are definitely on the mend. I’ll send her in.” Polly walked briskly to his door and down the stairs, her heels clicking on each step. John sat back and thought. What did she mean, her? Why would a girl visit him?

He had been told he was handsome by several girls in school but he’d never been seriously flirting with one. Was this one of his little stalkers that doodled his name in her book and pretended to be shy when he caught it. He knew the intention when he saw it. He’d never dated even at sixteen. After school he helped in the shop and helped with Ada and Finn. He really didn't have time for anything other than his family.

“How are you feeling?” A soft sweet voice dripping of honey was warm to his ears. Martha Anderson, the shy quiet girl in his class stood before him. He stared at her for a moment. She was pretty to look at. Always well kept and clean. She smelled of soap if he had to stand next to her in the hallway. Why was she here to see him?

“I'm alive, still sleeping more than I think I have my whole life.” he said casually. He couldn’t understand why she was here checking up on him. He wasn’t mean to her, he just didn’t really care to pay any attention to her before.

“Yeah, I’m glad you are alive.” She said with kindness dripping from her voice. She walked a little closer to the table still not sitting or asking to sit. He motioned to the chair across from him. She smiled broadly and sat down across from him.

“ My sister had pneumonia last year. She didn’t make it. I’m glad you are okay.” He caught the hitch in her voice when she’d mention her sister. He had almost died but he didn’t think now was the time to tell her that. She seemed different to him. More confident maybe outside of school.

“Thank you Martha, sorry about your sister eh.” John meant what he said. He couldn’t imagine losing his siblings, especially after the death of their mother. He and Tommy had found her. That last image of her never left his mind no matter how hard he tried to think of any other sweet memories of her.

“ Well, I have cards for you.” she said, causing him to jolt from his thoughts. He dropped the bread and it plopped into his soup. He cursed and fished it out with his spoon. Setting it aside on the teacup plate he scowled at the soaking bread. Well that bite was ruined. Thanks Martha he thought bitterly. That bread was his favorite and only thing he’d enjoyed in this sickness. It was almost better than Polly's soup. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud to anyone. No, that secret was going to his grave with him.

“Cards? For what?” he asked. Why would anyone give him cards? He didn’t go out of his way to be friendly and he started more fights then he’d ever admit to just for fun.

“From the class and one from a teacher and one from the janitor. Well wishes to get better.” Martha grinned and shoved the cards towards him, careful to be mindful not to place them in the spill near the soup bowl that the wayward bread had caused. She wasn’t a careless girl. John’s face screwed up in confusion. No one ever did this for him before, why now?

“What teacher? And why the janitor?” He was genuinely puzzled. She placed her hand over her mouth to his smile. He raised an eyebrow in disapproval of her actions. She was treating him as if he’d done something cute. He wasn’t cute, Finn was cute, he was a little kid. John was practically a man.

“I guess you shoved a kid and yelled at him last year for knocking over the janitor's cart intentionally. He appreciated it and the fact that you helped him up and picked up afterwards.”

“What teacher Babs?” he inquired as he shoved another piece of manna into his mouth. She looked thoughtfully at him before continuing giving him time to chew before she spoke. He appreciated her manners.

“Oh, Mrs. Changretta. Guess she’s sweet on you.” John scoffed as he dipped his spoon into his broth.

“Guess she gave me sweets sometimes, spanked my arse once. Called me a cheeky bugger a few times.” They both chuckled at her nickname for him.

“Was she wrong?” Martha teased. John almost choked. She was a completely different person outside of school and church. He almost couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t had any medicine today so he knew he wasn't imaging it.

“Haha, I like you like this mouse.” He said as he pointed his spoon at her. He spoke before she could interrupt to protest. “You're actually funny and friendly when you're not hiding behind your friends.” Martha pulled back in the seat and looked down at her alp. He felt a twinge of guilt. He had meant it as a compliment.

“I don't have any friends. I'm too busy, family, work and stuff. And you're not calling me Mouse, John Shelby.” He felt relief when she looked up and weakly grinned at him. She was trying to pull herself up. He appreciated her spirit.

“Mouse it is then.” He goaded. She picked up the biscuit and tossed it at him. He laughed and caught it tossing it back at her. He hit her right in the chest and she pouted. God, she was fun to be around.

“Hey, no hitting the sick man.” He scolded her. His heart wasn’t really in it. He was biting his cheeks to keep from laughing. His stomach hurt from the belly laughs she was giving him.

“I don't see a man, just a cheeky boy.” She teased and used the time he wasn’t reacting to toss the biscuit back hitting him.

“Oi, knock it off mouse, or I'll knock it out of you!” He threatened, his giggles erupting ruining his tone.

“You are definitely feeling better.” She commented glad to see him awake and alert.

“ Maybe it's the company.” He winked at her. She sat back, her eyes as wide as the teacup saucer. He was flirting unabashedly with her. She sat in silence as he reached out to shuffle the cards on the table.

“Which ones from you, eh?” He asked, blushing. She was crimson red flushed all over her lovely face. She pulled out a soft baby blue card with a white paper doily trim. Her handwriting was phenomenal, neat and curled beautifully. She definitely practiced her cursive. His numbers were always nice and neat but never his letters. He slid it off the table and tossed it toward his bed, grateful when it didn’t land on the floor. He thanked her and took a huge sip of his soup. He was trying to still his fast beating heart, what was this little mouse doing to him.

“Thanks for feeding my family. We can care for ourselves, you know.” He hadn’t meant it to come out harshly but it had. Pain raced across her face and she quickly put on a social mask and smiled. She didn’t mean it. He wasn’t used to charity.

“Were neighbors John, it's what we should do when someone is lame.” She smirked at him. She wasn’t going to take the high road, that was interesting to him.

“I’m not lame, just not awake enough yet. Watch yourself Andrews. I’ll come for you when I am.” Her sweet laugh echoed off his walls. It was genuine again.

“And do what with me John?” She challenged and rolled her eyes. He leaned over his food getting as close to her as possible. She sat back personal space having been invaded.

“Maybe I'll kiss you.” He said his voice barely above a whisper. It was her turn to blush again, shifting the flirty power back to him.

“Anyway, get better…I don't want to carry you through the project Shelby.” She stood up briskly teasing him. He noticed the change. He’d embarrassed her.

“Yeah yeah, like you're smarter than me Martha. It’ll be me carrying you through the project eh?” She was highly intelligent. They both knew it now.

“Hey, tell whoever made the bread, I want to marry them.” She had turned toward the door but stood frozen in the doorway. John grinned like a cat that caught his mouse. He’d suspected it had been her. She had watched him eat very much of only the bread. He had her where he wanted her now. She shook her head and walked out.

He sat back and rubbed his face with both hands, Martha, Martha Anderson was his little angel. She’d be in trouble when he got back to school. He had seen too much of her personality. He knew she had to be his girl eventually. Free bread wouldn’t hurt his feelings either.

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#peaky blinders fanfic #john shelby #martha shelby #polly grey #thomasshelby

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ineffable-kelpie · 10 months ago

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Special Delivery

Rating: G

Wordcount: 418

Prompt: A sleepy hug

Characters: Lesley (the International Express Man), Maud

Lesley balanced the tray on one hand as he pushed the bedroom door open. Inside, Maud was still sound asleep. He knocked twice on the door to announce himself. “Special delivery.”

Maud stirred groggily and tried to look at him. “What’s this?”

“Late lunch,” said Lesley, setting the tray on the bedside table and turning on the lamp. Maud still looked pale and groggy, but when he laid the back of his hand against her head, it felt cooler than the last time he’d checked. Hopefully her fever had finally broken. Lesley sat on the edge of the mattress beside her. “Or early dinner, if you like. I wanted to let you sleep, figured you needed the rest, but you’ve got to eat something at some point.”

Maud lifted her head and sniffed. “Is that your chicken dumping soup?”

“Fresh off the stove.”

“Aw, tiger.” Maud turned and wrapped an arm around his waist with a sleepy smile. “I’m lucky you recovered first. That way you’re feeling better, and I get homemade soup, so we both win.”

Lesley chuckled and leaned over to return the hug as best he could in their current positions. “How are you feeling now?”

“Still achy, but better. The fourteen hours of sleep probably helped.” Maud pushed herself up to a sitting position.

Lesley helped move the pillows to cushion her back, and then passed her the soup. “There you go. Eat up.”

“You take such good care of me,” she said, smiling, settling the tray on her lap.

“Of course, love.” Lesley kissed her forehead. Yes, her fever had definitely broken. “Glad to see you on the mend.”

He sat with her in comfortable silence as she ate, one hand resting on her knee. “It’s really lucky you were able to get time off work this week,” said Maud after several minutes. “I know how rigid the delivery schedule can be.”

It was stranger than that. Lesley had never had any deliveries scheduled this week in the first place. It was like whoever arranged such things had known he was going to get sick. The exact same thing had happened the last few times he got sick, and when he’d needed time off to attend his aunt’s funeral, and when a burst pipe had flooded their basement. He had long since stopped questioning these things, but he still didn’t know how to explain them to Maud. She wouldn’t believe half the things he’d seen at his job, anyway. “Lucky,” he agreed.

#good omens fanfic #good omens ficlet #international express man #good omens lesley #good omens maud #sickfic #hugfest 2024 #cyankelpie's fic

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iviarellereads · 2 years ago

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Full TLT series to date thoughts on rereading Harrow the Ninth, chapters 21-30

A probably semi-regular weekly bonus to my reread blog, since sometimes you realize things on reread that just make you need to yell in a full spoiler space.

The mewling baby noise in Harrow's head… I don't recall seeing this before, nor an explanation. Is it Gideon's baby cries from Wake's memories? The babies killed to conceive Harrow? Nona's manifestation beginning?

My hint about Cam and Pal's "deaths" in the River bubble scenario might be on the edge of a spoiler, but part of this project is encouraging asking questions about detail in what we read, so I stand by it.

SNERK and other noises of stifled amusement. "The Sleeper, who sleepeth not. Perhaps a better name would have been … the Waker." Ortus, you dork, giving away that it's Wake before any first time reader has her name.

The rusted pipette needles that come in on a wave in chapter 21… I've been kind of operating under the assumption that they relate to Wake and the BOE's research, or perhaps more specifically Wake's attempts to execute Dios Apate, Major.

Has anyone determined whether it was Pyrrha or G1deon fucking Wake-in-Cyth-clothing in chapter 23?

I'm sure everything that can be said of the soup scene already has been said, somewhere, but knowing that Jod will reconstitute himself from atoms later on, the whole "spell to freeze the people in the room without freezing time" seems much less impressive.

Chapter 27 and the bone regrowth. I have to admit, I hadn't dug too deep into the fandom last time I read this, so I never saw it in the mirrored sex scene way some folks do, but now… I definitely see it. I can even see Gideon, as an unreliable narrator of the scene, not giving Harrow the detail she noticed and was jealous of. Or, if you think this scene does happen as described, I can see Gideon mentally removing the details she didn't want to think about from her record as we read it. The only problem with this interpretation is Gideon's subsequent statement that Harrow had never even seen two people get hands on each other before at Dios Apate, Minor.

Abigail tried to move the teens on to what comes after but they're too stubbornly teen-aged to listen.

The infamous "I will remember your mouth" line. Wake sure had a way with words, you gotta give her that much. Though, with a name like hers, how couldn't you?

Dios Apate, Minor. Still an incredible execution, and the fact that John still doesn't suspect anything from the way they've come on to him at least once before in the exact manner. And even the reader, while you might suspect that they've deceived him in some way before, I think it would be very difficult to guess the extent of Dios Apate, Major at this stage. So good.

#tlt #the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #nona the ninth spoilers #nona spoilers #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb spoilers

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xprojectrpg · 4 months ago

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Moment of Awesome - Meggan Szardos/Gloriana: Following the sudden flooding of District X, Meggan and Spectrum work together to find a missing family member in a bodega.

It was so quiet that Meggan had almost missed it, but yes. There it was again. It was a bit louder the second time, and a bit more identifiable as a rather worried meow. “I think that’s the missing cat,” she realized. She set aside the bag of debris as she tried to zero in on the exact spot the sound emanated from.

“Right about...here,” she noted as she heard another noise. She flew upward, and carefully shifted the foam tile, thankfully one over from the actual location, so no animal came tumbling down on their heads. “Hello, there,” she softly whispered to its occupant. She didn’t want to just grab the poor dear and scare her into scratching. “Sorry your home filled with all the water.”

Luckily, the cat treats were on a higher shelf, and in plastic bags - Nica grabbed a pouch and floated up to perch on the top of the shelves, near the section of ceiling Meggan was dismantling. "Try these," she suggested, laying the packet within reach. "And I'll do my best impersonation of a nice, warm sunbeam."

“Good idea,” Meggan praised. What cat in its right mind could turn down flopping around in some sunshine? She hoped this one wasn’t too frightened to be tempted into a luxurious beam. She shook a few treats into her palm, and then placed two of them down near the cat. It had briefly backed away, but then appeared torn.

There was some understandably wariness there, some curiosity, a dainty sniff; and then, yes, eating quickly. “Oh, you’re definitely hungry, and I wish we knew your name,” Meggan noted. At this angle, she couldn't read a collar. She would briefly start calling her Miss Calico Doe in her head until she found out the actual moniker for her. “Just a little closer, please,” she encouraged softly.

Nica sat still and quiet, letting Meggan do her thing and just focussing on warmth and light. C'mon kitty kitty, it's all safe here...

Meggan was able to scratch behind the ears as she got a bit closer. The cat gradually began to take an interest in the moving light and the warmth, even as she stole more treats from Meggan. The cat sniffed Meggan’s hand delicately, and then studied the area further below. Meggan moved back slightly, as she spotted the cat was preparing to make a leap from there to a nearby shelf.

Restraining herself from a gleeful squeal as the cat jumped down onto the shelf near her, Nica reached out slowly to let the cat sniff at her glowing hand. "There's a good kitty-cat," she murmured softly, as the cat decided she was safe and began rubbing its head against her hand, purring.

Meggan returned to the ground, grateful the poor thing hadn’t decided to continue on to another hiding place. She poured the remaining treats into her palm. “Would you like more?” She asked, when the cat looked her way expectantly once it heard the crinkle of the package. The treats were quickly accepted, and the purring increased in volume.

Nica took advantage of the treat scarfing to check the cat's collar for a name tag. "Bonita," she read aloud, and the cat looked up and chirped as if agreeing. "Well then, Bonita, let's get you out of here and back home, yes?" The bodega owners, Valentina and Tomas, lived in an apartment not too far away. "We don't have a carrier, but maybe we can find a box that isn't all soggy?" she continued, looking at Meggan as the cat climbed into her lap and curled up, making the most of the warmth being projected.

Meggan went to check. The first one was a bit too shallow to be of any use, but the next one looked like it might be helpful. The boxes beneath it had been ruined, but this one was just high enough that it was okay. “A former box of varieties of soups could work?” As she spoke, she was taking out the cans, and checking the depth.

"Perfect," Nica agreed from on top of the shelving. "Put my coat in the bottom to make it comfy? I don't really need it, it's just for show." She nodded towards the woolen duffle coat tossed carelessly over the counter. "And some treats so she doesn't jump out as soon as we put her in?"

Meggan smoothed out the coat, and then put a small trail of snacks to the box. As Bonita ate, she could only shrug. “That’s the best lure there could be!” She also put five more in the corner of the box, so the cat could have a good allotment of treats to occupy her while she was brought to her home. “Good girl, Bonita,” she praised when it looked like she was wasn’t going to be obstinate about getting in. She was just kneading the wool at the front, though.

Nica meanwhile had floated back down to the floor when Bonita had left her lap in favour of treats. "C'mon, kitty-kitty, she crooned, crouching next to the box and putting her warmly glowing hand inside to encourage the cat to climb all the way in. "There's a girl. Don't you want to go home?"

With a loud purr, Bonita followed the light the rest of the way inside the box, and got to work on the next treat she found. “Good girl,” Meggan cooed.

#moment of awesome #Gloriana #Meggan Szardos #plot #xproject #x-project #rpg #rp

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damiano-mylove · 3 years ago

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Members of Måneskin with a mentally ill/disordered S/O

Illnesses included: Depression, ADD, Tourette's and PTSD (so warnings for that and SH, drug usage, isolation, and heavy topics in general) *Masterlist*

This was a collaborative effort between Nik, Lina, Lute and two unnamed but very appreciated people - all of us afflicted with the varying illnesses above

Vic

Vic would take an empathetic approach to your illness/disorder (relating to you, researching, never pitying)

Depression

Vic would take a more of a nurturing role to your sadness

On the more sad days, Vic would nap with you for a little bit but she'd get to a point where enough would be enough

She would coax you out of bed in ways that appeal to you more than you'd ever care to admit, starting out with just getting you to eat somewhere else than in bed, then eventually moving up to showering, etcetera, etcetera

Vic would be very acutely tuned toward your needs, and she always fulfilled

It broke her heart that you were so sad, but she could relate and that made it a lighter burden on your back

When you first told her, Vic just went silent, then hugged you for a long time

ADD

Vic wouldn't be as supportive in this, but not in a neglectful way

She had a way of getting your attention back on the topic at hand, but sometimes she was just as bad as you for getting away from the main point

The impulsivity, she wasn't the biggest fan of, but you two worked through it like adults

When you'd forget things, Vic wouldn't get annoyed - but she would always remind you when you forgot what you needed to remember

Also, she was the best for finding misplaced things

PTSD

Vic would be very careful to avoid your triggers, however she never felt as if she was walking on eggshells

Before you were able to fully tell her what happened, Vic would never force you to tell her anything you weren't already ready to tell her of your own accord

There was no way she couldn't feel a bit sorry for you, but she never showed it, and she certainly didn't pity you - she just was sorry that something happened to you to give you PTSD

She would be mindful to never act as if she would be able to fix you

Tourette's

It didn't annoy her as much as you thought it surely would - especially since you had been trying to keep the tics at bay in the beginning of your relationship

Vic usually went on like nothing happened when you'd tic, but sometimes she'd laugh if your tics would hit her

Vic would proudly go out with you, even though you were scared about the looks you'd get on the street, but she never minded because she loved you and she wanted to show you that she loved you

Thomas

Thomas would take a supportive approach to your illness/disorder (reminding you to take your meds, making appointments for you if you'd ask, doing anything he could to make you feel better)

Depression

Thomas would always be the perfect person who would just shut the fuck up and cuddle you, but he would only do it if you'd ask because he knew sometimes you didn't feel like being around people

Wasn't really trained in any of this so he just cared for you like he'd like to be cared for

He was doing his best, and it was apparent, but sometimes you'd have to tell him what not to do and what to do

Of course, Thomas wouldn't bat an eye to stop or start doing anything at the raise of your finger - whether it be rub your back or let you be alone for a bit

He understood that he alone could not cure your depression, but he understood that he would be around for the ride, if you would have him

When you first told Thomas, he was silent, just nodding. He asked you a few very respectful questions but would never dream of pushing you. He would rub your knee and assure you of his love for you, no matter what

ADD

Honestly, Thomas didn't know what ADD was, at first

He googled it, then thought better to just ask you for a primary source

During nights where you couldn't sleep, Thomas would be right beside you, not sleeping either, which wasn't healthy for either of you, but it sure as Hell made you feel less lonely

Thomas lost shit and things all the time, so he never judged you for that, and his memory was potentially worse than yours so who was he to speak on that

But he was extremely good at getting you to finish tasks before moving on (sometimes just finishing them himself)

PTSD

Again, didn't exactly know what it entailed at first, but asked you a few questions to clear the air

Thomas would lead you through deep breathing exercises (unless you told him not to) when you were triggered and started losing control

Would always do anything and everything he could to avoid triggers with you

He would he more than patient with you

Tourette's

He would find some of your tics endearing (not harmful ones)

At one point, you'd even developed a verbal tic saying Thomas' name, which he always chuckled at and responded to you every single time as if you'd requested his presence, each time with a new pet name and a smile

If your tics would hit him by accident, you would apologize profusely, but Thomas would always laugh and brush it off

During tic attacks, he knew to just let you be, unless you would stop breathing, then he would certainly step in

He would ask his doctor a "hypothetical" about how to help someone through a tic attack, then used that advice forevermore, and it usually made a helpful difference

Ethan

Ethan would take a companion role (letting you take the lead, showing him what would happen and what to do to help, always listening to you before making his own move)

Depression

He'd dealt with depression before, but thoroughly understood that everyone is different in how they display mental illness

Ethan would recognize what to do, but would ask you for confirmation before acting upon anything that had potential to make a difference

On days where you couldn't leave your bed, he would bring you food (not a steak dinner, but he would definitely bring you soup or toast or a sandwich)

On days where you couldn't shower, he'd either be in the shower with you, or he'd draw you a bath instead, or he'd buy dry shampoo and sanitary wipes (those would be the last case, because he didn't want to throw off your pH)

He would assure you of his love and that you didn't burden him whatsoever

You were suffering, and you didn't make him suffer, but he did take some of that suffering from you

ADD

Certain times, I regret to say, he may get slightly annoyed, but not for long and not to the point of icing you out or anything

Ethan always found things to keep your mind occupied (watching Monty Python (actually a great programme for AD(H)D people), intricate games, new books, etc)

The best at finding lost things, and also has the best memory under the sun

Your symptoms wouldn't bother Ethan, save for constantly speaking (which can get a little annoying during a film or something)

PTSD

Would basically just go one with life - he would avoid all things relating to your triggers and PTSD - but otherwise, it would be business as per usual

If you got triggered, he would be by your side and on your side

He would do anything; deep breathing, distractions, grounding, getting your meds, anything

Ethan would always let you speak about it, when you'd want to, but otherwise treated you the exact same way as he had before you told him

Tourette's

He's always looking for something to joke about, and sometimes your tics provide just the material

He wouldn't dream of taking the piss out of the harmful or mean tics, but if you were laughing, then he was sure to be laughing as well

If your tics involved a bird whistle, he'd call you his 'little red bird' but wouldn't anymore if that upset you

Tourette's are a tough subject to joke about, but Ethan would always listen if you told him it was offensive, unfunny, or just a bad joke and Ethan would always take it in good humour and apologize

Most of the time though, he could make some funny fucking comments

Damiano

Damiano would take a nonchalant approach (not explicitly talking about it, never take the spotlight off you (if he could help it), try his best to help you through any challenges without making you feel like you were an inconvenience to him

Depression

He was your best friend before he was your lover

As such, you were always able to talk to Damiano about your depression anytime you felt it getting bad, as to warn him

Damiano would never leave your side, unless you told him to, but he'd always have a film on in the back, or he'd play with your hair, or distract you by brushing your hair or having you help him pick out an outfit

He enjoyed cleaning, so your bedroom would never become a depression room, and that helped get you out of your slumps most of the time

Dami was also swimmingly good at getting you up, even if it be just for a dance in the moonlight then back to bed, or a walk around the block then on the couch

He understood wanting to cope, but if you were prone to drug usage, Damiano would totally discourage it and stop you from using as best he could

ADD

Not everyday is a trip to Disney, but with Damiano, it is

Damiano always had new records to catch your fancy, he'd always have some home project lined up for the two of you, he'd always let you do extravagant things with makeup on his face

It seemed if you lost something, Dami would find it, but if Damiano lost something, you would find it (good system actually)

Would always have reminders in his phone so he would add reminders for you on his phone (appointments, birthdays, events)

Damiano seemed to always have just the trick to get you to sleep, even when you felt like you physically couldn't

PTSD

After you told him, Damiano would immediately avoid the topic in future conversations

He would support you fully during any trigger or episode, but he never treated you any differently at all just because you have PTSD

It hurt him that something hurt you so badly, but he took it all in a deep breath - after all, he signed up for you, all of you, so he certainly wouldn't give up on you just because of a disorder

Damiano would be in your corner 100%, and you knew it and you knew you could always go to him

Tourette's

Some tics would get that beautiful smile on his face, but otherwise he continued conversations like nothing ever happened

He didn't bat an eye at a physical tic, not a verbal tic

But he was the man to go to during a tic attack

He wouldn't treat you like a science experiment, or like an insane asylum patient - he treated you with love and support, like no one else ever had

Damiano had read about a dozen books on how to support people with Tourette's, and he'd also talked to other people he knew who had Tourette's - Damiano was thoroughly educated on how to help you, the love of his life

headass this was hard to fuckin write and i know its shitty and the cw’s are a bunch and i cut it but im sorry and hope its good enough

#maneskin #måneskin #victoria de angelis #victoria maneskin #victoria de angelis x reader #thomas raggi #thomas raggi x reader #thomas maneskin #ethan torchio #ethan torchio x reader #ethan maneskin #damiano #damiano david #damiano maneskin #damiano david x reader #fanfic #damiano david fanfiction

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nanyoky · 4 years ago

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@essayofthoughts asked for:

"Perc'ahlia babe and also Vaxleth and Pikelan"

Mwahahaha...

Perc'ahlia:

Who’s the messiest one: I mean it depends. Cuz Percy has a place for every little thing. But when he's mid project it tends to turn into organized chaos. Vex may occasionally leave things lying around if she's tired or distracted.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: definitely Percy, but it's less uncomfortable and more "easily flustered." Like it's just something he's accepted. Vex gunna smooch. Percy gunna blush.

Who’s the funniest drunk: Percy. Cuz he has the same attitude, but he's struggling to take off his socks for bed like "what a- a- idiotic invenshuhh..... Fucking.... Stuplid..... Imma make em better... Make... Sock....better...." While Vex is equally drunk but still doing her four step skincare routine like "yes dear"

Who texts the most: probably Vex. Anything between conversational back and forth, long rambling but deep trains of thought and "LOOK AT THIS DOG I MET"

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: hmm probably Percy but only in like a "parody of himself" kinda way. Nothing but a mix of chamber orchestra and emo music. Which aren't all that bad on their own, but he is a hashtag Byronic Posh Boi and so of COURSE that's all he listens to. Vex has cool(tm) tastes in music. Even if a song or artist wasn't cool (tm) before, it becomes cool(tm) once she likes it.

Who reads the most: I mean Percy. Not that Vex doesn't read, but he big nerd.

Who’s better with kids: ooo boy that's A QUESTION for some canonical parents, huh? I'm going to say Percy, just because I feel like Vex is a parent who can get overwhelmed sometimes and not know how to handle needy kids when she's running on empty (feel like I should say this does not make a person a bad parent- just that as a kid it's hard to understand that adults get tired). Meanwhile Percy has a natural tone that suggests what he's saying is fact, so if he's too tired for high energy toddlers he's just like "sitting by the fire drinking tea is a very fun game" and the bbs just climb into his lap like "you're right being quiet and snuggly is very fun" while Vex watches like "HOW."

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: Percy's a good good tinker boi

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: listen one of them invented firearms and the other has a pet bear it's a toss up.

Who cooks and who cleans up: Both are what you might call... Functional cooks. Nothing to write home about, but they get the job done. But Percy excels more at baking (structured, exacting) and Vex is better at more loosely defined things like soups and sauces. Cleaning up is a duo activity and a nice part of their evening wind down.

Vaxleth:

Who’s the messiest one: deffo Keyleth. Houston we have a hoarder. She gets emotionally attached to everything, and saves up little bits and bobs of things for crafting and home diy projects all the time.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: probably Keyleth, but it's in like- the most Social Anxiety way possible. It's not so much that she's uncomfortable, it's that she gets worried that being snuggly or kissing will make others uncomfortable.

Who’s the funniest drunk: oh that's a hard one. Cuz we've seen them both be high quality drunks, (ie day drinking queen and "heterosexuality is fake and magic is just the fucking best????????"). I'd say Vax because I feel like he's more likely to insist he's not that drunk and doesn't need anyone to look after him, and therefore will get into more shananigans/flirt more

Who texts the most: another toughie. Probably Vax, in a similar style to Vex.

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: they both have the same issue as Percy, in that their tastes are just a parody of themselves. Vax has three categories of favorite music: sad emo boy, sexy alt boy, and rebellious 90s girl. And then Keyleth is just unironically into the softest cheesiest music you've ever heard on the soundtrack to a chick flick. We're talking Jewel here, folks. Also retro oldies cuz Homeschooled Vibes. I'm going to say Vax tho, cuz he's the one who gets emotional about it, while Keyleth is just a casual listener. And he listens to more of her music than she does his. She'll send him the Live at the Troubadour recording of Kelly Clarkson's Sober and he responds back like "??? Why would you send me this??? At 10am on a Tuesday??? When I have things to do??? Now I'm crying on the bus?????" And she's just "glad you liked it! :D"

Who reads the most: probably Vax. He gets deep into reading in attempts to find less self destructive ways of getting out of his head.

Who’s better with kids: hm I'm gunna say Vax on this one because Keyleth has a tendency to try too hard with everyone and was also an only child who was forced into very structured time while growing up cuz expectations. Vax has more clear memories of actually just being a kid when the twins were with their mom, so he can relate easier. That being said they're both pretty good, as we see with that kid Simon, a scene that will HAUNT ME FOREVER.

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: def keyleth. DIY queen. Vax just gets frustrated and is like "let's just buy a new one"

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: hmmm. Keyleth has A LOT of hobbies, but Vax def will do parkour, just cuz. Like he may have started back when he was still kind of a criminal, but now he doesn't have a practical excuse and he doesn't even like- record it or anything so there's no point to it. He just sees urban environments and goes "gotta jump. Gotta climb. Just gotta."

Who cooks and who cleans up: Keyleth has got prep on lock. Gardening. Hunting and trapping. Gathering. Cleaning and dressing and chopping. She's got this. It's adding fire to things where she starts having trouble. Vax picks things up from there just fine though, and covers dishes and such on the back end.

Pikelan:

Who’s the messiest one: Pike. Pike. Pike. Having a perma-home at last means she gets comfy, which means you can usually not see the bedroom floor. Scanlan is scandalized.

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: Scanlan tries. He likes the idea of being helpful with domestic stuff and not just a goofus who's just around for the fun parts of being together. Unfortunately he's never really lived anywhere long enough to get good at household repair, and it takes him way too long to do anything. Pike is pretty handy, but gets so busy that she'll just put up with something being broken for weeks. Best case scenario is Pike shows Scanlan how to do something so the next time he can do it himself and feel accomplished and she can come home to things being fixed and give him smooches and coo over him being a handyman.

Who's the funniest drunk? Pike. "I'M TRYING TO STEALTH."

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: it may shock people, but Scanlan has the same "once it's serious I get bashful" disease as Vax. Pike will absolutely give his bootie a tap in line at the grocery store and he just goes bright red. He tries to laugh it off like he's still the smarmy mess everyone knows, but she teases him endlessly about it.

Who texts the most: Scanlan is an absolute "good morning," "thinking of you," "how was your day," and "goodnight" text person before they live together. After they move in together it's just text versions of his cover songs about his love for her and dank memes.

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: we know it's Scanlan. We've heard his cover tracks. Pike has similar cool(tm) tastes as Vex.

Who reads the most: Pike is probably someone who's always on the move, so she's more an audiobook person. But Scanlan is like fully ready for the dad life. Just loving any weekend where he does nothing but sit around in flannel pj pants reading a mystery paperback.

Who’s better with kids: It's a hard one. Scanlan second guesses himself quite a bit and worries every little thing he says or does is going to become Lasting Trauma. Pike acts more chill about it, but slowly gets more and more overwhelmed until she nearly has a nervous collapse. But their opposite styles work well together and they're able to be a pretty great team.

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: I feel like Pike is someone with a weird collection. It is either something a little spooky but cool and academic, like antique medical equipment, or something horrifyingly tacky, like a thong from every city she visits. Maybe both.

Who cooks and who cleans up: this is where Scanlan is a much quicker learner about domestic stuff. Pike is a good cook, but it's usually on the move so much she doesn't have the time for meal planning and prep. Scanlan absolutely throws himself into being a house husband and gets obsessed with cooking shows. Pike insists on helping with dishes tho.

#do it for the meme #I'm so bad at doing these in a timely manner #critical role #vox machina #perc'ahlia #vaxleth #pikelan #percival fredrickstein von musel de rolo iii #vex'ahlia #vax'ildan #keyleth #Pike trickfoot #scanlan shorthalt

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tiredkeys · 5 years ago

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Strider Bros with an s/o who’s very used to pain, but laughs it off

i have a request, if that's ok!! the strider bros with someone who's very used to pain and getting beat up and covered in bandaids/bandages daily?? but she laughs it off and no matter how hurt she gets, she's always so kind and trusting towards others and very physically affectionate. she acts pretty memey and breezy alot of times, but she will try and fight back if someone tries to hurt those she loves,,ahh sorry if this is too much, i kinda projected here,,,sorryy

Requested by anon

Oops this one is really long, I really enjoyed this and got a little carried away...

Requests are open!

Dave

Oh man

Oh man oh man

He got this exact same treatment from bro and he is devastated you have so many bandages on you all the time

Like? You both are out with some friends and someone twists their ankle

And you, at the speed of light, have some bandage out and their foot is fixed up in no time

On god, he almost starts crying on the spot because only boy scouts are supposed to know that and he knows you needed to know how to patch yourself up but you shouldn’t have needed to repair yourself so quickly and GOD

Honestly, he’s convinced you don’t have a right elbow because it always has a colorful bandaid on it

Speaking of bandaids, sometimes he’ll draw stars or hearts or just doodle on ones that cover paper cuts or that are wrapped around your fingers

He always asks first and he’s just so careful

When y’all first got together, you learned very quickly that he is NOT physically affectionate

He loves you so so much, and he hates it that his instinct is to flinch away when you brush up against him or go to hold his hand

It takes him quite a while, waiting for you to initiate and several sweaty palms that he doesn’t quite know what to do with, but when he does get comfortable showing affection around you? He’s so touchy

He’s not a huge fan of PDA (the cool kid facade is still strong) but in private, he just want cuddles and he wants them now

But he’s so so gentle, especially when you have new injuries

Often times, he will hold your arm and trace some older scars you have while y’all watch movies

And even when he accidentally puts too much pressure on a new cut, or his pointy elbows hit a soft spot, you’re smiling at him and cracking jokes while he apologizes for the next ten minutes

He’s baffled by you in the best way possible

He sees someone you care about being bullied for something and you are up and defending them SO FAST

It looks like you’re a hair’s breadth away from throwing punches

And he’s astounded

The change in you demeanor was so fast

And his first instinct is to be worried, then the bully leaves, and he’s still worried

But god he is so proud of you

I mean, he’s seen some of the bruises you have

But you just are so trusting and nice and soft towards others, you have no bitterness in your heart and he has no idea how you do it

Your constant vulnerability so revolutionary to him

One time, he accidentally walked in on you touching up your bandages

This beating was particularly bad, injuries stretching from just below your collarbone to around your ribs into your lower back

And he cannot move

He’s stuck in the doorway for a solid minute before you notice him

Shooting him your most convincing smile, some sluggish finger guns and a quick jipe you’re back to fixing yourself

“All these colors are really making me look like a piece of art, aren’t they?”

Oh my god he doesn’t know what to do

He just stands there until you’re done

“Who did this to you?”

Whether its a guardian, bully, or just a stranger, his heart still drops

He’ll make sure you are as comfortable as possible, in bed with snacks, drinks and a book or movie

He’ll crawl in next to you and pretend to be invested in whatever you are doing

But he’s crying

It’s hard to tell because he still has his shades on, and you don’t actually notice until you see him swiping at his face

You have to push his glasses up into his hair so he will look you in the eye

Y’all talk a lot that night

You wake in the morning and bathed in the sunlight and Dave wrapped around you like a blanket of protection

And you are safe

Dirk

I mean, he’s had his fair share of fighting robots so he’s pretty scared up right along with you

He’ll totally be up for comparing scars and stories about them

You got any you’re insecure about? He might not know how to comfort you but he will most definitely sit down with you and try and distract you

He sometimes forgets that you are as used to pain as he is and it's like a cold slap when you get hurt and shake it off

I mean, your pain tolerance is through the roof

You get hurt, say something like, oh this is nothing and he’s like so?? We are getting you patched up

And he will pick you up and will not let you move until you are fully bandaged, even if he knows you can do it yourself

On the flip side of that, when he gets busted up, he is always starstruck when you pull out the proper medical equipment and heal him up

Fixing up his twisted wrist, and he’s just staring at you because you’re just so gentle and caring with him, he feels so safe

Whenever he makes his own bandages and splints, he always ended up wrapping them up a little too tight, not enough to actually cut off blood flow, but enough that it was always more uncomfortable than it needed to be

Once, someone tried to pick a fight with him, and he just kinda squared up and went “ight i'm going to get decked this time”

And you BUST DOWN to DEFEND HIS HONOR and it's so scary

The offender? Flees so quickly at the sight of you, in a rage, and this anime character lookin dude, about to be in a rage because that kind of passion is contagious

But he’s so oblivious to your advances it isn’t even funny

He’s a little caught in his self-hate to even consider that you might be into him

Because what on Earth would you ever see in him?

Also, he is not a touchy person!!

He has -5 experience with physical contact and he will literally jump out of your arms he is so perturbed

You go into hug him one time and he zips off so fast and you don’t see him for quite a while

Did you move too fast? Did you hurt him?

Nope, he’s just cooling himself down

Despite his best efforts, he can not keep a cool face around you

Even when you’re gently punching his arm or touching his shoulder as you brush past, he will get so flustered so fast. There's just nothing he can do about it

One time, you cornered him about it

Not even flash stepping could save this fellow from your onslaught of questions

Does he hate you? You stopped your bigger physical affections long ago and while you know that he really doesn’t get a lot of that but would he like you to stop? It’s alright if he does, you’d just like some verbal confirmation. I mean, you really really like him and your love language is touch, but if he isn’t okay with it he isn’t okay! And if he doesn’t reciprocate your romantic sentiments towards you, it’s all alright! He shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything he doesn’t want and... Man, you’ve really gotten off track here. You’ve said far too much but you mean all of it. Is he okay?

Even with the added defenses of his tinted glasses and his rock-hard demeanor, you can see he’s shaking

This, to you, is not a good sign and you begin to backpedal like HELL

While you’re chattering away, he is going over his options in his head after it stopped yelling and the list looks like this:

You’re lying to him and this is a joke

You’re not lying, but would be miserable in a relationship with him

You’re not lying and both of you would put the effort into a relationship and it would be beautiful

He decides to take his chances

Grasping your wrists to effectively stop the word soup spewing out of you, he lets you know how he feels

He also really likes you, like… you know… but it terrifies him, just like you do! You’re always beat up and those weak excuses really won’t work much longer, and you care so much and that’s so scary, so breathtakingly scary, and you’re so funny and easy to talk to and he knows he’s not used to touching people, or just people at all, but if you'd like to teach him, that’d be okay. Someone has to watch your back, anyways.

And that’s the whole story right there, folks

Stay safe! Thank you for reading!

#homestuck x reader #dave strider #dave strider x reader #dirk strider #dirk strider x reader

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irresponsibility101 · 4 years ago

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a concept: korto vos (the kid of quinlan vos and therefore chaotic as fuck), ailyn vel (the kid of boba fett and therefore chaotic as fuck) and eeth koths unnamed daughter (who was probably actually pretty chill but ends up chaotic as fuck through diffusion) have fabulous adventures throughout the galaxy and experience Emotions™️.

ailyn has an arc where she gets over her anger at dear old dad, maybe because he gets offed right about now (not really but she doesn’t know that), eeth koths unnamed daughter (who probably got rescued from project harvester by quinlan and korto somewhere between the age of 10 and 14) gets an arc where she struggles with her anger and tries to figure out who her dad was before he got offed when she was all of 2 minutes old, and korto just has several consecutive existential crises about not being good enough compared to the other jedi and what the fuck happens now palpatine is gone he’s spent like half his life fighting him in some form and oh fuck is quinlan dead?

(he probably isn’t but who knows)

kothspawn maybe at one point has a casual discussion with Yoda completely unaware that he’s Yoda and just thinks that this weird glowing frog man is just that, a weird glowing frog man, and lets him give her random advice about being a jedi. this entire scenario can also work the exact same with eeth koth but his advice is a bit more grammatically correct and a bit less swamp soup focused and they bond and he reveals he’s her dad on the way out like ‘surprise lol it’s your dead dad’.

ailyn ends up bonding with rex through the family bonding experiences of stabbing bastards with pointy sharp things and initially neither of them have a clue who the other is because rex is old and ailyn is a brown copy of her mother (who in this verse went missing way earlier so boba and ailyn aren’t at the level of murder but definitely don’t get along all that well until both of them think the other one is dead and eventually she shows up on tatooine after the mandalorian season 2 and embraces her inner little shit) and then he casually makes a reference to being a clone after they’re done being awesome and she’s like wAIT A MINUTE

tldr: I want a bunch of emotionally stunted teenagers/young adults being forced to team up and being gay doing crimes around the time of the fall of the empire with the obligatory found family trope thrown in there.

#bonus points if ailyn flirts with all buff women they stumble across and yes i mean all of them that includes cara dune and fennec shand #she doesn’t do anything with fennec #cara however #that’s a different story #ailyn vel #korto vos #star wars #fic ideas #eeth koth’s daughter #Star Wars original trilogy #captain rex #ct-7567 #eeth koth #yoda #the fabulous adventures of ailyn vel korto vos and kothspawn #ka’ra koth

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goodlucktai · 4 years ago

Note

If you wouldn’t mind,, natsume being pretty in his houzuki costume (maybe with tanuma/r nishimura/ or someone)

Suzuki’s eyes are wide and glassy in a way that preludes tears. Nishimura, who is and always will be a sympathetic crier, straightens up from his slouch across Natsume’s desk in alarm.

“I’m so sorry!” their classmate wails, clutching handfuls of cheap, lilac-colored fabric. “I was fixing one of the hems at the breakfast table and my little brother poured soup all over it. It’s completely ruined.”

Her twin brother has a look of grim resignation on his face, obviously having dealt with this level of dramatics all morning. Tsuji moves in to begin damage control.

“Okay, well,” he says helpfully, “maybe it’s not so bad! Maybe we can–”

As soon as the Suzukis unfold the costume, Tsuji’s mouth clicks shut. What looks like a full serving of miso soup has stained the entire front panel. Their little brother couldn’t have done more damage even if he tried.

The silence stretches for a beat, maybe two. Suzuki’s eyes get even wetter.

And then Natsume surprises the hell out of the rest of them with a sigh. He rubs the back of his head, mouth twisting as if two parts of himself are at war with each other, before he finally surrenders, “I might have a solution.”

It’s a mark of how much he’s grown in the past two years that he doesn’t flinch away from the collective attention of the entire class when it lands on him a second later.

“Like, to get the stain out?” Tsuji asks.

“No, that’s hopeless,” Natsume says apologetically. Suzuki hangs her head. “I just meant, I might have something at home we can use to replace the costume.”

“Beats trying to sew another together before the play tomorrow,” Nishimura pipes up, always and forever on Team Natsume. He doesn’t even know what’s going on, really, but it doesn’t matter when Natsume slants him a grateful smile.

“Okay,” Tsuji says. “Let’s ask sensei if we can run by your place. Yes, Nishimura, you can come. Everyone else, run lines!”

It’s late afternoon by now, but the whole school is abuzz with last-minute festival prep. They pass Taki by chance on their way to the lounge and Nishimura slaps her an enthusiastic high-five without breaking stride. The teacher’s lounge is a beacon of peace and serenity in the storm of madness, and Nomiya-sensei slides open the door warily at Tsuji’s knock.

He was their homeroom teacher when they were first years, and he smiles at the familiar trio they make. Kurusu-sensei is on the phone, but through a game of charades they procure permission to leave campus, and Natsume texts Touko to let her know.

And that’s how, twenty minutes later, Nishimura finds himself in the kitchen with Touko and Tsuji and Nyanko-sensei, while Natsume reluctantly goes upstairs to put on the replacement costume. Touko insisted he model it for them, so she’d know if she needed to make any alterations before they whisked it away.

Nyanko’s ugly face is exceptionally smug-looking, and that should have been enough to tip Nishimura off that Something Was About To Happen.

As it is, he still inhaled iced tea and spent a fraught ten seconds coughing and hacking it out of his lungs while a distracted Tsuji thumped him half-heartedly on the back.

“Shut up,” Natsume snaps, his face bright pink. He looks– he’s dressed in–

“Takashi-kun, where on earth did you get this outfit?” Touko asks, hands folded in delight. “I’ve never seen it before.”

“A friend gave it to me,” he mutters. “I sort of… I was in a sort of festival a few years ago. I played the role of the Harvest God.”

“Some play,” says Tsuji, sounding very sorry he missed it.

Touko is already tugging at the collar of the costume and straightening the shoulders to make it lay flat. There’s an amused, affectionate smile on her face at the Natsume-typical shenanigans playing out in her kitchen. After a moment, Natsume tentatively glances at Nishimura as if to gauge his reaction, one bright brown eye and a sliver of his face all that’s visible from behind the antlered mask.

It’s the exact second Nishimura was waiting for; he snaps a picture with his cellphone.

“Nishimura!” Natsume howls. He rounds the table at a run, and Nishimura jumps out of his chair to put Tsuji bodily between them. “Oh, don’t you dare!”

“I have to show Tanuma!” Nishimura yells back, frantically texting. “I have to!”

There’s a whole lot of commotion at that point, Tsuji trying to extract himself, Nyanko-sensei yowling when he gets underfoot, Touko laughing airily, Natsume and Nishimura wrestling for the phone.

Natsume is bright with fury when he finds the picture successfully delivered to the group chat and a whole stream of excited texts pouring in even though everyone is supposed to be working on their class projects, and pins Nishimura with his most impressive glare.

It’s more impressive than usual, because he looks downright intimidating in this beautiful, delicate-looking dress up, like a creature melted off the page of a fairy tale, but it’s also not very impressive at all, because it’s Natsume.

So Nishimura offers him his brightest, get out of jail free card smile.

“Hey,” he says, “they’re all gonna see it tomorrow, anyway.”

“Yeah,“ Natsume grits out. “On Suzuki.”

But he can’t stay mad at Nishimura for very long. The standing record was a miserable eleven minutes back when they were fifteen, and Nishimura doesn’t even remember what that fight was about anymore. Sure enough, Natsume’s eyes soften after a minute and he hands the phone back.

“You’re the worst,” he says succinctly.

“I did you a favor. If Tanuma wasn’t in love with you before, he definitely is now.”

He’s chased out the door by a livid mountain god, but that’s just part of life these days. Besides, running is excellent cardio; since making friends with Natsume, Nishimura’s been in the best shape of his life.

#natsume yuujinchou #natsuyuu #nishimura satoru #natsume takashi #tsuji masayuki #my writing #prompt #anonymous #natsuyuu fic #this is just silly and i wrote it while im waiting to order food :')

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theurbansquared · 3 years ago

Text

Guide To Avoiding A Loser Brokerage

by James Hill | theurbansquared

Brokers can be bastards and some even get better at it while other brokers are legitimate life-changing business Sherpas

A broker is supposed to guide you through a career in real estate much like a coach or pimp - offering protection and how to understand a complicated system better and direct it to revenue without getting your neck broke while playing the game. I created and ran the most well-reviewed, largest full-service brokerage in the fastest-growing city in America. This gave me access to nearly ever broker and their broker's pay structure and innovations. I also got the agent's version of my same broker buddies brokerages when they eventually joined my brokerage; hovering anywhere from 20–60 agents. Trending insider chatter has blame going to real estate brokers of decades past (and current) and how they’ve managed their agents - - letting unsupervised agents with no experience run wild on the streets practicing on the public wearing out Realtor love and making a need for all the Mountain Dew-made Zillow-y options that currently exist.

Brokers are out of touch more than ever with today’s current media load, having to understand and use social media platforms for their advertising (since the private Town & Country affair that real estate once was is forever over and the landscape is a bit more like a half Juggalo, half programmer flea market).

Let’s dive into some situations and tenets that most agents don’t consider when choosing a brokerage.

Sales Volume

This is a bit of negotiating psychology and due diligence. Simply ask how much sales they (the brokerage) did last year and how much they’re currently at. If they don’t know these numbers they’re goons. If they don’t give it, you guessed it - they’re hiding something; their lack of revenue. I’ve hired and fired hundreds of agents and in interviews so few ask this question but it’s one of the most important questions you can ask as an agent and you need the information. An agent that doesn’t ask this has already given a tell that they’re not a top producer since they’re not interested in the production capacity of the team they may join. No bueno. Creep the brokerage as well obvi -- reviews, FB & IG engagement and current running ads, and make sure the company Christmas Party isn’t catered by Chic-fil-a at a Burnet Road dive bar.

Office

40% of your learning and 350% of your work will be done at the office. Those numbers will make sense 90% of the time after a few years in real estate. The rest should be on the streets - your car, properties, driving 75 mph talking and sending out docs, gorging on breath mints. Office, home, tiny homes, motorhomes have all blended into one larger conversation where work/live ethos are all in re-definition.

But, when you do need a more savvy moment in any market when people talk about borrowing or selling something that’s over $100K they don’t want to hear some bullshit too loud pedantic conversation seated right next to them at Starbucks or the local kooky coffee shop. In real estate Murphy’s Law is always in effect. The super important listing sign off that has to go well and they want to hear you pitch again before deciding? There will be someone (at this super ‘caj’ coffee house meeting) there projectile vomiting, or throwing cats, or something else tiresome or bad that takes more calls.

Speech and body language are massive parts of sales so when the entire set is thrown because a barista is running through a whole Sublime album. You want the most inviting cool office you can ever pull off at any given moment in real estate . Was that ever a question? There's a balance -- you can't afford that year one or three, but it’s called real estate for a reason. Sexy, exciting buildings is what the brochure said when I joined. Also, it’s about style not size.

If you haven’t lost business to coffee house back pressure you really haven’t failed at agency properly.

Social IQ

Social reach is the only conversation now. Many brokerages won’t make it as the lead generating aspects of the industry aren't powered by a private MLS anyone and the publicly-hated ‘Realtor’ designation have both brokers and agents guessing about tomorrow. Calendars, best practices and free shitty tips & templates are the du jour of the day for anyone trying to get an agent's eyes. You can Google and get all the ‘basic’ social media dance steps, but with everyone at the same happy hunting spot, you’re being covered up, which leaves all your new artistic efforts fruitless and also squandering winning time.

Traffic, leads and engagement are all separate areas that have to be fulfilled properly and even this is in flux with historic corporations and current start ups all on the same advertising playing field. Social reach and engagement is about going to the consumer direct and becoming their friend with soft bribes -- free food, gifts, prizes (trips, events tickets) or industry work tools. The great news is, real estate has always been mostly consumer direct - start up a convoy at the grocery store (bar, church, meetup) and you’re in the car that weekend looking for houses with a new client. While you, your brokerage and the world are figuring out their exact social media mix, you need to make sure a brokerage isn’t lost on social media since many won’t be able to stay in business in the next few short years. Your brokerage needs to have a plan and and at best some presence on social media. Plus, they should be running low-cost performative marketing ad campaigns to get a feel for what and if set user groups are responding to ads. Anyone can post on IG but people engage on IG when they become inspired. A brokerage should have some sort of inspiration and relationship tied in with the local allure of their city -- or heading that direction.

Mentoring

Much like a neurotic buyer chasing an interest rate for their home mortgage (and then never buying a house) agents too focused on commission may miss the essential career need for mentoring -- for their clients and career. I had a 5 deal minimum for my new agents before they were ever unsupervised and received more commission. I've had new agents with celeb clients in hand and celeb agents with no clients in hand. No one wants to do business with someone with absolutely has no, experience but they do it because they like you as a friend or fam. Your mentor is the person riding shotgun with you at the beginning of your career. On many levels you want to be this person since they embody the position and role. You're literally and figuratively are borrowing experience from them and they deserve to be paid for it. You always have to strengthen your brand outside of your brokerage but if you don’t have any experience your brand doesn’t have ‘strength’ you simply have a logo and a drag & drop website where you're possibly talking about yourself and love of unicorns or football shit but the big boat deals you dream about in bed aren’t gotten this way. Remember, no unicorn could ever throw a football good without a lot of practice and a good mentor.

Support

Support in a brokerage is really communication and solutions for small problems, and systems for managing bigger ones with people. Most of the annoying things in real estate happen outside of the deal - contracts, calls, emails, docs, signatures, more docs. You typically want a super admin, broker, or agent manager that you can call and they pick up the phone. It’s pretty simple. With a mentor, admin, or broker you’re going to have a n 8:30 PM question or deal that’s going down. You’ll need printer help. Real estate always happens now (this was one of the main mantras in my office). Printing, prequal, weekend support and constant post dinner shenanigans.

Training

Meet Frank Miller, David Mamet, the Sex Pistols, Tony Robbins, Wayne Dyer, Hendrix, Tom Hopkins, The World’s Greatest Detective and Conan The Barbarian. We had a lot of different inspirations for the style and ethos of our urban brokerage. The World’s Greatest Detective is Batman. It was a moniker that became popular in the seventies. We used this example about how important due diligence and proper Fact Finding techniques are for serving and closing deals for clients. (It’s almost essential to be inquisitive in real estate esp about property/development to have success). Training is largely your sales meeting(s). Although I don’t come from a car background I’ve mentored many car guys transferring to real estate (they typically are out of the industry within 2 years and are there only for boom markets). Car guys have meetings every morning 6 days a week and they’re not at 9 or 10 am. They’re already working.

free module: The Burger King Phenomena: Why Agents Do Less Working For Themselves Than If They Were Working At Burger King

Many brokerages have no training/meeting schedule (monthly doesn’t count -- that’s a meet and greet company pump and catch up meeting). If a brokerage doesn’t have training on a schedule then there is no training. You’ll possibly be thrown a 3-ring binder, or given some PDF’s, or links to old bizarre training videos or a soup sandwich of all three and sometimes even a bill for the training. An agent’s training/meetings and their attendance to them are the difference between an agent making it or not when you’re 24 months or less in the role as an agent especially in the fast turbulent waters of the current 2021 market where brokerage and agent purpose and pay are under attack. From my experience, new agents that hide die.

Media

Having a background as a creative director I’m aware with great detail of agency and brokerage media needs, the cost and time they extract, and the corresponding revenue they’re projected to bring back. Brokerages are looking for their purpose now as simply having a brokerage doesn’t bring in leads like it used to. This is fitting, since the digital dumbass brokers that that didn’t understand the importance of ‘the web’ rickshawed our MLS data and sold the agent/broker centric real estate system for their benefit while current agents are left with an empty greasy enough to-go box to curl up with. Brokerages were never media houses or ad agencies but now that consumer level graphic programs and website builders are ubiquitous and any agent after being licensed for 10 days can drag & drop a website up in 4 hours and make it look like a brokerage that’s been around for years. I know I’m going wide on the subject here but stay with me because this is the crux of where the industry and consumer are renegotiating roles.

A brokerage’s value proposition has changed drastically with the telecommute revolution that was only sped and strengthened by Covid. Also, generational knowledge base gaps in technology are more apparent than ever with technology as younger agents can often be more media savvy than their broker. The market is flooded with self appointed companies or gurus that are taking on the role of the classic ad agency (Mad Men) or media production house. Also beware of real estate coaches with little or no real estate experience offering to guide you in social media. Okay media can’t be used in apex situations (such as the luxury listings you’re after) and doesn’t draw apex listings. Beware of tapioca room temperature tips and general lists from companies that can appear informative but are really boilerplate low grade data to get your attention to ultimately upsell you on a paid service.

As an agent or a brokerage, consumer level graphic and website building programs can be a death ticket to your business as your competitors have the same tools and are cranking out the same type of style of messaging you are now. Now agents, principals, admins and in art class creating flyers. This has been done since the nineties as the valleys of dead agent careers is full of 2-day Microsoft Word (or any of their shitty office offerings) seshes to produce nasty flyers and presentations. These programs are fun and making bad flyers absolutely work related - the kind of work you don’t want’ related to your business because it’s adult crayon coloring. Activity does not equal production. Staying busy doing the wrong things doesn’t make money in real estate. Rather than spending agent winning time staying in the wrong lanes for way too long, get with a team or brokerage that are providing the most exceptional visual media you can find in your market. It used to be cool 2 years ago, now it’s the only thing that matters. Visual content.

free module: Better Agent Media, Less Agent Money (media tips and hacks).

Access

This is access to your broker. Brokers with families are typically less available. Your best bet as an agent is looking for a grinder broker who sleeps on the couch at their office. This person doesn’t have kids to build into so they’ll build into your career and you’ll get the most out of these brokers. Beware of cheesedick, apathetic, rich boy, bored brokers not around and more concerned with projects like a shitty vanity wine brand that their wife’s forced them to launch since she’s not living her best life anymore as an agent.

Style

What kind of style is your brokerage? Is there an opportunity to bring more style sophistication to the market -- standout in a smaller market? Or, are you in an ultra stylish market currently and butt hurt because you already have a little story about how you’re going to keep it real and be a Dockers wearing slob for eternity? The thing about style in agency is you always need to look like you can list a million dollar house. Oh, is it really that simple? Yes it is. You complicated it. Clients always care about their housing a little bit more than they care about your real estate career. They don’t have time to figure out why you’re wearing shoe styles from 7 years ago. Don’t make it hard for people to do business with you. If you’re ugly, even better. It can be a massive advantage. Everyone on the planet loves when someone who doesn’t fall into our general current ‘attractive’ spectrum doesn’t give af, looks great and puts themselves together in a stylish way that the viewer can understand (can I get away with Teen Wolf?). A great side benefit from this step in the right direction is it’s a great way to make someone who is conventionally attractive insecure.

You want to be in the same style as the people in your area but the secret is you need to lead that style pack if you can -- you always lead and dress apex. Years ago this was anecdotal but after over 100K hours in real estate a good suite (tailored) saved my ass and literally got me business. I listed the largest house in east Austin because of a suit (and got a front page story on the newspaper real estate section for free because the owner saw me walking into the next door neighbor’s house).

Offices, dress, logo, email signature are all elements of you and your brokerage’s style. Style in and of itself isn’t enough to be a top producer in real estate. I’ve had stylish and even celebrity agents that didn't do zilch, but style often is a fingerprint to something more.

Picking the right elements for your agent style is an art because you have to offer something from yourself that’s unique enough as well as something familiar (a bridge to your uniqueness). I have a background as a musician and also as a merchant sailor. Fortunately those are easy convo starters. You could be a philatelist and have some challenges, but regardless it absolutely will take a year or three to develop your own angle and style towards the market as you learn it and the agent role more.

Things that look attractive and familiar puts client’s psychologies at ease. So, if skinny jeans are in you better get in them (that’s like five years old now). You’re on stage. You don’t wear what the worker people behind the camera wear. If you want to wear boring shit get on the other side of the camera. If you want less leads saddle up to a forgettable brokerage. People have hard days. They want you to put an effort into your real estate agency role. Currently it’s a fried role so you’re dealing with that too. People love to be smiled at and sold and especially from someone who smells good. It doesn't ever get old. Don’t make them beg for your charm. Be a nice charming person with a shirt that fits good, it’s a powerful combo.

Get My Damn Paper

If you’ve never seen a werewolf in daylight mess with an agent’s commission after the deal’s done and funded. Admin? Who is the damn person who does the admin? (accounts payable is the icey pro word if you like). That person that you contact to get your commission check cut? If that person is a weirdo, or there’s an unfriendly or sketchy quality to the office or admin staff, do not go forward (don’t confuse this with new people or industry jitters). Grab some free coffee, leave the smarm and jet to the next brokerage blind date.

Software

CRM is an annoying conversation. Here’s the things with CRM’s - for all the work CRMs curtail, because of their complexity and existence and the work(time) they take to interact with you need to consider how much work you’re putting into operating the CRM software verses how much time it’s saving. Many times brokerages have expensive yearly subscriptions with per agent fees for their CRM which can make the brokerage have a zealot meth thing for the ‘team’ software and promise you can’t have a career without taking a bump too. To understand CRM better before it was a name, Client Relationship Management is what analog Proximity became. Let me explain - being close to people in Church, bar, school, same building -- all give proximity. This becomes familiarity, then ease, then trust. People do business with people they trust & like. Once people disconnected physically and started using other means more contact attempts have to be made to work for or ‘prove’ worth.

Follow Up is a large component of most CRM’s and there are gobs of money for agents who follow up meticulously. Simply ask the broker what CRM they use and research it. Something to remember - unless you’re extremely busy with your career you don’t need a CRM. You can manage & database your clients & leads ‘by hand’ and strap it to the cloud with G-Suite/Google Sheets.

Brokerage Name

A small but important aside, if a brokerage have named themselves after a precious metal or a gem, or if it says elite in the name then it’s not elite. If it has the words prestige or worldwide or international it may not be any of those either. I know a handful of exceptions to this rule but this is a great dirty primer to use when choosing a brokerage that’s going to propel your career and have shrimp options at the Christmas Party.

#agent #realtor #realestateagent #broker #brokerage #newhomebuyer #coach #businesscoach #entrepreneurs #new agent #zillow

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poc-movie-supremacy · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas

On one very Merry Christmas, disaster strikes the Lim-Ilnyckyj family. Will everything be okay or will it be deadly Christmas for all???

------

Steven hates eggnog. He hates that it’s only sold on Christmas. He hates that he always forgets to buy more of it. He hates that he made Andrew go get some on that Christmas night.

Yesterday night…

Steven loves Christmas. He loved it when he was a kid and he loved it now. He loved the Christmas music, and the twinkling lights, and the constant buzz of happiness. It’s become even more special now that he has Andrew and Sunny and Mark.

“Do you have everything you need for the party tomorrow, baby?”

Steven surveyed the kitchen. “I think we should. Do you wanna get started on the dumplings?”

Andrew nodded and started getting out all the ingredients. “Sure are you going to start the banana bread?”

“Yup.” Steven maneuvered around Andrew as he got out his ingredients. They worked together in the kitchen seamlessly to produce a Christmas feast. Tomorrow in the late afternoon, they were hosting a large Christmas dinner with all of their friends and family. Considering who was coming they were planning on making a large meal.

“The ham is going to be ready for pick up tomorrow right?”

“Last time I checked honey.” Steven had on a Hanukkah sweater under his apron. It was a gift from Zach a few years ago. He also had an elf hat that Adam gave him and a discrete hickey from Andrew. Didn’t need the kids seeing that.

As they cooked, those same kids sat on the couch watching Christmas movies. Currently they were enthralled by Disney’s A Christmas Carol. The lights from the Christmas tree blinked lazily at them. It painted the kids in a warm glow. The smells of cooking food and scented candles wafted around the house. The adults kept a half an eye on them as they worked in the kitchen.

As Steven stirred the banana bread mix, he felt a slight tug on his pant leg. Looking down he saw his baby boy holding on to his leg. “Hey Markie, what’s up?”

Steven knelt down so he could hear his son better. “Baba, are ghosts real?” Steven almost fell over laughing. It was making his son agitated but he couldn’t stop. Sunny and Andrew started to look at them curiously.

Before Mark could start crying Steven squeezed his hand. “Buddy, hey, Buddy I’m sorry. You know what, when your Uncle Shane and Ryan come over tomorrow you ask them ok? They know more about this than I do.”

“Oh God, Ghosts.” Andrew groaned into his hands. He looked almost comical in his zany red Christmas sweater and Mickey Santa hat that Ryan got him a few years ago. Their poor kids look very confused at their parents. Steven almost fell down from laughing too hard.

“Do you think when they finally started dating Shane would intentionally scare Ryan so that Ryan would go to him for comfort?” Andrew wondered. The red Christmas light fell on his profile, emphasizing his strong jawline and beard. It made Steven’s heart happy to look at. It was also hilarious sine he looked like a giant red man from where Steven was crouching on the floor.

“Oh most definitely. I had to help him sometimes.” Steven rolled his eyes exasperatedly while Andrew chuckled.

"Anyways, you kids wanna make Christmas cookies after me papa are done?” Steven asked. Papa and Baba’s cookies were a special treat for the Lim-Ilnyckyj kids. They enthusiastically took any chance of making them with their father’s as they could.

“Ok watch a few more movies while Papa and I finish cooking, alright?” They nodded and went back into the living room. Frosty the Snowman and It’s Christmas Charlie Brown played through before Steven and Andrew were ready for them. Sunny and Mark rushed into the kitchen eagerly, happy to bake with their parents. It got a little messy, but they had fun. Andrew had flour in his hair and icing was everywhere. After that adventure, Steven and Andrew wrangled their kids to bed. Then they cleaned up the house to make it more presentable.

Half-way through the clock struck midnight. Steven was busy fixing the mistletoe so he missed Andrew coming up behind him. He squeaked when he felt Andrew wrap his arms around him. “Merry Christmas, Baby.” Andrew reached up to press a quick kiss to Steven’s lips.

Just as quickly he pulled away leaving Steven a giggly mess. He playfully swatted Andrew on the shoulder before getting back to work. “Merry Christmas to you too, Honey.”

Christmas Day for the Lim-Ilnyckyj household was chaotic. Sunny woke up Mark and together they woke up their parents. They were found sleeping back to back holding hands. They did not go to bed like that. It made Sunny and Mark laugh as they bounced on the bed. Their giggling is what actually woke up the two parents. Andrew gave Mark a bear hug while Steven tickled Sunny senseless. When they finally escaped their parents hold, the kids pulled their parents to the Christmas Tree.

“Don’t forget we’re going to Mass at noon. Then everyone’s coming over at 3. Can you get me some matcha honey?” Steven asked.

“Sure.” Andrew stood up from the couch to go get some coffee in the kitchen. Light streamed in from the open windows onto the children. It made them almost glow in the morning light.

Steven peacefully watched the kids divide up the presents. Mark got some nice lego’s and a coloring book while Sunny got a kid-safe detective and chemistry kit. They got a few other gifts but this was their favorite. Andrew came back with two cups of matcha, one for Steven and one for himself. Steven smiled happily and kissed his husband’s cheek in thanks. They hadn’t been planning on opening their gifts, but Sunny and Mark insisted.

Steven’s gift was an art project and a Ratatouille stuffed animal. Sunny and Mark smiled eagerly at him. “Uncle Adam helped us pick it out! Do you like it Baba?”

Steven pulled his kids into a hug. “I love it so much.”

“Your turn papa.” Mark handed his father one of his presents from Sunny and Mark. It was another art project and a stuffed animal of a cat possibly from the Aristocats.

Andrew squeezed the cat close to his chest. “You guys, this is great.”

“You like it?” The kids asked him excitedly.

“I love it. And I’ll open the rest of the gifts after I get the ham. Ham is the last thing we need right?”

“It should be..” Steven said. It wasn’t.

“Ok, let’s eat some breakfast, I’ll get the ham then we’ll go to Mass. Sounds good?” The kids nodded distractedly. Steven made them special christmas waffles (which were like regular waffles with a lot of sweets in them).

“You’re going to give them a sugar rush,” Andrew said.

“Yeah and they’ll crash during mass.”

Andrew smiled sneakily at his husband. “You're so smart.

Steven shrugged with faux humility, “I try.”

The kids did in fact crash half-way through Mass. Steven and Andrew had to carry them the rest of the celebration. All the Church goers cooed as they passed. At home, Steven and Andrew let the kids sleep as they made sure the house was ready for the party. The wrappers were all thrown away and the Christmas lights were turned on. The food was arranged artfully around the kitchen table. At 2:20 the children were woken up and cleaned up for the party.

The first people to show up were Uncle Ryan and Uncle Shane. Their three kids, Sherry Linda and Benny stood behind them carrying gifts. After hugging Ryan and shane, Steven graciously took the gifts from his nieces and nephews. Mark ran up to Ryan’s leg and pulled him down. “Uncle Ryan, Uncle Ryan, Baba told me I could ask you a question.”

“What’s up slugger?”

“Are Ghosts real?” Mark whispered.

Ryan immediately started wheezing while Shane groaned. Mark looked around very confused. His dads had the exact same reaction. At the same time Ryan told him yes, Shane shook his head no. An argument ensued to Mark’s utter confusion. Linda rolled her eyes, took her cousin by the hand and pulled him away.

“Ignore my dads. They can’t agree on this.” Sherry, her younger brother Benny and cousin Sunny and followed Linda and Mark. They made their way to the play room away from the bickering adults.

“If you ask me,” Sherry started, “I think they are.” Benny nodded too. He was three so there was a 60/40 chance he was just agreeing because his older sister said it, but none of them commented on it.

More guests started to arrive, The Fulmers, the Habersburgers, Cool Uncle Adam. The kids all went to play upstairs while the grownups stayed downstairs to talk.

Christmas music rang throughout the house as Christmas lights twinkled around them. The cookies and eggnog were a big hit, especially after someone spiked it. Steven didn’t account for this and sadly they ran out of eggnog quicker than he planned. “Do you want me to get more?” Andrew whispered in Steven’s ear. He had seen Steven start to play with the hem of his shirt, a tell-tale sign he was agitated.

Steven played with the hem of his shirt more and almost started to bite his lip. Internally he was having a debate with himself. “Are you sure? You don’t mind?” Steven whispered.

“No it’s ok. The trip would be quick.”

“Want me to go with you?”

“Nah stay home. I think Bergara’s going to do something to my clothes, I want you to stay guard.”

“Yes sir.” Steven smiled and kissed his husband on the cheek. Silently Andrew left the party to get some eggnog. Annie saw this and quirked an eyebrow.

Steven answered her silent question. “It’s all good.” No it wasn’t “He’s just getting some eggnog.” He wanted to get some eggnog.

Annie nodded slowly like she was debating on what to say next. “The roads are slippery. I hope he’s careful.”

The thought made Steven nervous, but nothing bad could happen right? It was Christmas Day so he decided to trust in God and believe that Andrew would be alright. Steven nodded at Annie and steered the conversation towards studio ghibli.

-_- -_- -_-

It takes half an hour to get from the grocery store and back to the house. Steven knows after all the times one kid has gotten sick and he had to rush to the store for soup. It had been 20 minutes so far. Steven wasn’t too worried. He went to the kitchen to get more cinnamon rolls where he caught Ryan staring out at the snow.

“Snowstorm. Must be blue moon today,” Ryan whispered when he noticed Steven beside him. “First time I’ve ever had to bundle up like I do visiting Shane’s family in California. Kids were ecstatic though.”

Steven snorted softly. “I can imagine, Cali boy.”

Ryan fondly rolled his eyes, “That was an awful nickname and you know it. By the way, where did Andrew go? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Before Steven could answer, his phone rang. Excusing himself, he answered and started to walk away. He made it four paces before he felt his heart shatter.

-_- -_- -_-

Steven was stock still in the middle of the kitchen. He wasn’t moving. Ryan called out to him, but he wasn’t responding. Hesitantly, Ryan walked over to Steven. His breaths were shallow and his eyes looked bloodshot. Carefully Ryan took the phone out of Steven’s hand.

“Hi, my name’s Ryan Bergara, I’m… Steven’s relative, what seems to be the problem?”

“Mr. Bergara, as I was just telling Mr. Lim, Mr. Andrew Ilnyckyj has been in a car accident. He’s in St. Luke’s hospital on 5th and 9th.” The operator had a sympathetic voice, probably picking up on how much Andrew means to Steven. Ryan took a deep breathe in an attempt to steel his nerves. He couldn’t break down, not yet, not until this whole mess was sorted out. Someone had to be strong for Steven.

“Oh, um thank you, Steven and I’ll be there as soon as we can. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas Mr. Bergara. I hope your friend turns out okay.”

“I hope so too.” Ryan hung up and pocketed the phone. He turned towards Steven who was still stock-still and crying. “Hey man, I need you to breath. He’s going to be okay. Shane and I’ll drive you to the hospital, the rest can stay back and watch the kids.”

“The kids… you can’t tell them just yet. You can’t. It’s Christmas Ryan. Wait, wait until tomorrow.”

“Ok, ok I promise. Wait right here. I’m going to go tell the grown ups and get Shane.”

As he was about to leave, Steven reached out and tightly gripped Ryan’s arm. “Don’t, don’t leave.”

Ryan paused and took a deep breath .”Ok, slim lim, come with me.” Slowly Ryan tugged Steven back to the living room. To get everyone’s attention Ryan made one sharp whistle.

Everyone turned to look at them and concern colored their faces when they saw Steven’s tear stained face. Before they could speak Ryan’s voice wobbled out, “Uhh, Steven just got a call from the hospital,” Annie held a hand over her mouth, “Andrew’s been in a car accident. Shane and I are going to take him there, but we need someone to stay behind to watch the kids. It’s Christmas. I don’t want them there quite yet.”

Shane walked up to stand on Steven’s otherside. He wrapped an arm around Steven’s shoulders and rubbed in an effort to calm him down.

“We can stay with the kids,” Katie offered. She sent a sympathetic look towards Steven that went unnoticed. The others offered to clean up before either going to the hospital or going home.

Ryan and Shane ushed Steven into the car and drove as quick as they lawfully could to the hospital. When they came to a stop in front of the hospital, Steven jumped out and made his way to Andrew’s room. They watched him go silently, sadly. Before they joined him they parked.

-_- -_- -_-

Steven ran down the hallways as fast as he could. Christmas music played softly through the halls, but it doesn’t have the same soothing effect anymore. It started to become more threatening as it played in his mind over and over. You better watch out. You better watch out. YOU BETTER WATCH OUT you better not cry, you better watch out I’m telling you why…

It made him sick. His anxiety increased two-fold. The washed out hallways seemed to stretch on forever. It was freezing to the bones in there. For every step Steven took, the hallway added another foot of length.

401… 402… 403.

Steven felt like he was running on borrowed air. Like when he got that phone call Satan stole his breath and wouldn’t give it back to him. He didn’t stop running though, he would run as quickly as he could to get to him.

Finally, finally after his ugly christmas sweater was starting to choke him, finally after his tears were starting to stream down his cheeks, he made it to him.

Andrew was lying unconscious in his hospital bed. There was a long scar over his left eye and a bruise on his left forearm. Steven almost fell over at the sight of it. Yet he pulled himself together and staggered to Andrew’s bedside. Tightly he grabbed one of Andrew’s hands as he willed himself to stay strong, stoic.

The hospital room was cold and unfeeling. It smelled of antiseptic and medicine. Steven hated it. He hated that he was here, he hated that he was the okay one. Steven, Steven burned with anger. But anger doesn’t last long, especially for Steven who quickly goes from murderous to deep tragic sadness. It makes his knees weak.

He pulls up a chair so he could fall into it. While still holding his hands, he rests his forehead onto Andrew’s stomach and let the tears fall. At first it’s singular droplets but then it becomes heaving sobs. All the pent up energy he feels is released through the tears. He’s relieved the kids aren’t here to see either of their parent’s like this. They’re too young.

He hears Ryan and Shane approach but he pays them no mind. All he’s aware of is Andrew’s soft breathing and the beep of the heart monitor. The sound is both a blessing and a curse. As much as he hates the incessant beeping, he’d take it over its silence any day. The boys walk over to Steven, Ryan on his left and Shane on his right.

Shane’s quiet as Ryan speaks. “The nurse says there was some internal bleeding, and he has a few broken ribs. The roads were a little slippery the other car couldn’t break fast enough to avoid collision. She checked your insurance. They’re going to send in robots to fix up the bleeding. Thank God we updated the healthcare on time.” Ryan tried to joke to alleviate the dour mood. It didn’t work that well.

Steven tightened his hold on Andrew’s fingers. Jaggedly, he nodded his head. Shane placed a hand on top of his shoulder. “Hey man ease up. Don’t break his fingers.” Steven wanted to hold onto his husband’s hands like a lifeline, but he knew Shane was right. Instead he grabbed one of Shane’s hands and one of Ryan’s. No one spoke as they quietly watch Andrew sleep.

When the nurses had to take Andrew into surgery, Steven let them lead him back to the waiting room. The lights were bright in an awful way, harsh on his eyes. They sat together on one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs. No one spoke, unsure of what to say. Steven played with the hem of his Christmas sweater and prayed the rosary over and over internally.

Later on in the night, Adam, Annie, Rie, and Niki came over to sit with them. Unless it was to offer Steven a comforting word no one spoke. They all waited apprehensively for an update on Andrew’s situation. Annie wrapped her arms around Steven who curled into her.

“I’m sorry I jinxed it.” Her voice was whisper-soft and shaky, like she was about to cry but didn’t want to.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Just more evidence that you might be a little more magical than we thought.” Steven tried to humor her. Annie just held him tighter and kissed his forehead.

“I’m magical as fuck and I’ll use my powers to make Andrew come out the surgery room brand new,” Annie declared confidently. Despite himself, Steven smiled.

-_- -_- -_-

Andrew’s surgery lasted a few hours. Ryan shot a text to Katie that Andrew would be staying overnight and Steven would too. Katie offered to stay the rest of the night with them, but Adam refused. He drove back to keep an eye on the kids while Katie and her husband went home. She gave him a sympathetic smile and made Ryan swear that he would update them on Andrew’s situation. After that they sent Steven one last sympathy text before heading home.

Luckily the surgery went smoothly. He’d wake up from the anaesthetics in a few hours. Since only one person could wait for him in the hospital room everyone stayed in the waiting room. Steven went to visit Andrew alone. He pulled up a hospital chair and fiddled with the hem of his sweater as he prayed.

Half-way through the night, Ryan and Shane had to go back home to pick up the kids and put them to bed. Annie stayed with Steven the whole night. She went with him to see Andrew before having to go back home. Well into the morning, once the kids were awake and ready, Adam took Sunny and Mark back to the hospital to wait for Andrew and Steven. They were quiet and still for once chock full with worry. Adam tried his best to distract them. He played youtube videos, read to them, and let them play games on his phone. Nothing seemed to work however. The only thing the kids wanted was their father.

They looked up when a nurse called Adam’s name. They got up together, one kid holding one of his hands. The nurse gave him a pleased, tired smile. “Everything went well, so well in fact that you all can visit him.”

“We can visit Papa!” Sunny squealed excitedly. It made the nurse laugh.

“Yeah, your father’s waiting for you.” Sunny would’ve sprinted off if it weren’t for Adam. He quietly thanked the nurse before turning his attention back to the squirming kids.

“We walk together, no running off. We can’t run into anyone.” The kids sullenly agreed with Adam. Together they walked towards Andrew’s hospital room. He didn’t let go of the hyper kids until they crossed the threshold. Sunlight light up Andrew’s hospital room. There were some flowers and candy lying on the side table. Steven and Andrew had matching red rimmed eyes as they held hands. Big Smiles shone on their faces when they saw their kids. Before the kids could pounce on Andrew’s torso Steven scooped them up onto his lap.

“Hey, hey, before you shower your papa with all the love in the world, we got to go over a few ground rules.” Steven waited until he had his kids attention. “Your father’s chest and stomach is very sore so you can’t put any pressure on it. That means so sitting on it, no tight hugs, no leaning against it. Ok?”

Both kids nodded solemnly before Steven let them onto Andrew’s hospital bed. Mark sat on his left while Sunny carefully climbed over him. When they started talking they also started crying and they did this on top of each other. Adam went to stand silently behind Steven. No one could fully understand what the kids were saying. It was something between, don’t go, I’m scared and it was confusing. Andrew let them cry it all out. He rubbed Mark’s arm up and down as he tried to thumb away Sunny’s tears (in vain). Gingerly he let the kids lay on him, wanting to be just as close to them as they needed to be to him.

“I’m going to be ok guys, I promise. Papa just got in a little tumble.” The kids didn’t really believe him, he did have a scar on his face after all. They did always like the rumble of his chest when he talked though, so they just quietly listened. Andrew told them a story about one of his Christmases as a boy. It was long enough to have them fall asleep by the end of it. Andrew kissed them on the forehead before turning towards Adam and Steven.

“They fell asleep quickly. What did I miss from the 24 hours or so?”

“Nothing much. After Steven got the call, half of us went to the hospital while the other half stayed behind to clean up the house and watch the kids. They’ve had some trouble sleeping. Very worried for you.” Adam informed him. Absentmindedly Andrew tightened his hold on his kids even if it pained him.

“Merry Christmas to us,” Steven quipped sarcastically.

Andrew snorted. “Hey, I turned out fine. Little banged up but I’m ok.”

Steven carefully squeezed his upper elbow. “You better be. I didn’t want to tell the kids that pops went out for milk and never came home.”

Andrew and Adam laughed out loud. “I promise baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

#standrew #shyan #ella's worth it fics #we're all fic writers here #I coined mark from the bible #sunny cause Steven was like sunshine personified so obviously his kid would be too #and sherry and linda since they are shane and ryan's respective mom's #ella's unsolved fics

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