#and even that took a lot of coaxing from robby | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elves-n-angels · 5 years ago

Text

How Sebastian Stan Went From Winter Soldier to 'Winter Swoldier'

To keep up with the Chrises, Stan upgraded his diet, training, and worldview. And 2020 is shaping up to be his best year ever.

BY LAUREN LARSON

DEC 19, 2019

THE COFFEE-SHOP staff is having a silent meltdown. The peppermint tea I ordered was forgotten as soon as Sebastian Stan walked in. He orders a coffee, receives it instantly, and goes to put it down on a table. The lid isn’t fully on, and the coffee spills. It’s almost a “stars are just like us” moment, but then a barista suddenly materializes with a paper towel in his outstretched palm. “It’s wet,” he says eagerly.

Stan, 37, is wearing black shorts, a black T-shirt, midcalf black socks, and a gray hoodie missing its drawstring. He looks very off-duty SoHo, which he is: He’s back home in New York City on furlough from preparations for The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, an extravagant collaboration between Marvel and newborn streaming service Disney+.

He’s also wearing a blue baseball cap, which sits slightly higher on his head than it might on the head of someone with less va-va-voom hair. That hair sent the Internet into a tizzy recently, when a poster for Falcon showed Stan with a short cut. In the past when Stan has played the Winter Soldier (né Bucky Barnes), he’s had shoulder-length hair. Next to his forehead, which is giant—the White Cliffs of Dover of foreheads—the longer style made him look very sinister.

Stan is somewhat less recognizable in street clothes, but women still side-eye him on their way to the bathroom. Maybe they recognize him; maybe he’s just a little too strapping not to be famous.

As Stan talks, he maintains an unsettling deadpan, verging on a glower. “People always ask me if I’m okay,” he says, still glowering. “They’ve said I have ‘serial-killer resting face.’ No matter what I do, I’ve always had dark circles under my eyes that never really go away. Lately there might be a little moisturizer happening here and there, just in case. Preserving a couple years, or whatever.”

The more reserved the actor, the more likely he is to become part of Hollywood mythology. Between Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) and Captain America: Civil War (2016), a rumor circulated that he had gotten too ripped for the arm he’d worn in the earlier film, a wraparound contraption meant to look like a machine prosthetic. Redditors called him “the Winter Swoldier” and “Bulky Barnes.”

Stan laughs when I bring it up and clarifies that he used a new-and-improved arm in each successive film. With the first iteration, he had to apply lube to slide his real arm into what was essentially two rigid metal tubes. “It was like having a massive hammer attached to me,” he says, “but it looked unbelievable in the movie, and it actually informed a lot of my body language.”

Subsequent arms were more mobile, and Stan doesn’t have to lube up to get in there anymore: There’s a sleeve inside the arm for his next appearance as the Winter Soldier. But, he concedes, he did get too big for the arm used in Civil War. “I was so insecure being around these massive fucking guys, so I started lifting really heavy and ate a lot. I remember I showed up, and I was a little bit bigger than I had been in The Winter Soldier. The arm was a bit tight,” he says. “I was losing circulation.”

Stan is not a new arrival in the Marvel universe: He made his superhero debut in 2011, with Captain America: The First Avenger. But recently he’s enjoyed a burgeoning late-term fandom as his roles (and arms) have ballooned. Beyond Marvel, he starred alongside Margot Robbie in 2017’s I, Tonya, as Tonya Harding’s jackass boyfriend. When we meet in October, he’s just returned from shooting the spy film 355 in London, with Jessica Chastain, Penélope Cruz, Lupita Nyong’o, and Diane Kruger. Another insecurity-inspiring roster.

With Stan’s constellation of anxieties—he says he’s “terribly self-aware, to the point of detriment”—he is uniquely suited to stardom in 2020. A decade ago, audiences wanted actors to be pillars of Hollywood hubris, strutting around in latex Marvel suits, muscly and impenetrable. We still want the muscles, but we also want stars to be genuine.

Marvel films can seem at odds with that national craving for authenticity. Steve Rogers, for example, becomes Captain America instantly, in the first ten minutes of The First Avenger: He goes into a machine and emerges fit, huge, and self-actualized. I ask Stan whether that narrative—man gets muscles and immediately earns the admiration and attraction of everyone in his midst—isn’t a dated, unrelatable picture of masculinity.

“When I was watching Steve Rogers,” Stan starts in, “I saw him question his identity, his alliances, the government. ‘Who am I? What is this? What made me come into this is very different than the role I am in now.’ I think it was very timely, in the sense that you could see that character evolve. Then he gives up his shield and is like, ‘I’m out. I’m going to do my own thing.’ He chooses his own life. It’s actually more relatable.”

There’s an obvious metaphor there: Stan is Captain America, and stardom—and the press tours, the scrutiny, and the training that come with it—is his government, always invading his carefully fortified sense of self. As a result, he can appear very reticent in public, offering only occasional glimpses of the unguarded Sebastian Stan. Audiences live for those moments.

Stan is the anti-celebrity in the year of the anti-celebrity.

And his ambient hostility toward questioning is offset by the behavior of his Falcon costar Anthony Mackie. When alone in interviews, Stan can seem deflective and bored, but he gets an enormous kick out of Mackie, who has jumped in to rescue many an interviewer left to writhe on the hook by Stan. He is the Sebastian Stan whisperer, midwife to a charm that can be difficult to coax out.

“When I’m trying hard to find the honest moment, he sort of unlocks me a little bit. We both laugh and we find a way to have a good time,” Stan says. When I tell him that I’m planning to mine Mackie for gossip, he laughs. “Here’s what he’s going to say: ‘He’s way too serious. It’s boring. He slows everything down. It’s always these questions and, like, the stare. Give this kid a Yoo-hoo! Somebody get him a chocolate milk. Good God, put a smile on his face!’ ”

Mackie is the enthusiastic extrovert to Stan’s pensive recluse. Even though I reach him on the phone at 9:00 p.m. after a long day of shooting in Savannah—“I’m already going to bed,” Mackie says in a N’awlins drawl that sounds sleepier than usual—he’s forthcoming about Stan. He describes his costar as a hermit, a chronic Irish-goodbye-er who doesn’t offer much of himself at first. “If the FBI ever needed to get anything out of him, they’d be in very big trouble,” Mackie says. “I don’t know what the male equivalent would be of ‘resting bitch face,’ but Sebastian has nailed that 100 percent.”

His first impression, which lingered for a long time, was that Stan was a very quiet, very reserved actor. They shook hands when they met, but it wasn’t a buddy-com bromance at first sight. It wasn’t until much later, when the two were on a press tour for The Winter Soldier, that they hit it off. Mackie hung out with Stan and a few of his closest friends, and they “unlocked” Stan for Mackie the same way Mackie now unlocks Stan on press tours.

Their chemistry also plays well on set. They share a dedication to their work, and they both come from classical acting backgrounds. (“He went to Juilliard,” Stan says of Mackie. “He can do anything.”) Beyond that, they’re opposites, reining in each other’s moods to a perfect, workable middle. “He calms me down when I’m ready to rage against the machine,” Mackie says. In turn, Mackie bullies Stan into having fun.

Case in point: When they were on a press tour in Beijing, they had one of those endless nights that make press tours seem glamorous. “It just went on and on and on,” Mackie recalls. “We had to do press the next morning, and he’s like, ‘I’m going to bed.’ I’m like, ‘Nope.’ I took his wallet and his cell phone so he couldn’t get into his hotel room. Then, by the time we got to the press, I was fine. He just looked like he’d gotten hit by a car.”

Hollywood has always relished actor partnerships—from Robert Redford and Paul Newman to Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson—but now more than ever, buddying up feels like an imperative. Pairs perform, especially on social media. In November, when Stan and Mackie took over Marvel Studios’ Instagram to announce that they’d begun filming Falcon, fans were as thirsty for their friendship as they were for the show. Their dynamic is the stuff of memes: “[I] want someone to look at me the way Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie look at each other,” one fan tweeted.

I know what that fan meant. When Stan does look at you without suspicion—when, perchance, he laughs at something you say—it’s like winning a battle.

WHEN IT COMES to fitness, Stan has also benefited from the influence of a charismatic spirit guide. He played soccer and basketball at his Rockland County, New York, high school, but he didn’t start running and going to the gym until he was in college at Rutgers University. And he didn’t get really into fitness until 2005, when he was cast in a film titled The Covenant, which Stan calls “really classic.”

Really classic, indeed: The Covenant also stars Chace Crawford, whom Stan would later join on Gossip Girl (another classic), and Taylor Kitsch. Stan plays one of five prep-school boys endowed with supernatural gifts and sick abs.

“I got a call,” Stan says. “And one of the producers said to me, ‘Look, you’re going to have to look like John Travolta in Staying Alive.’ He’s just glistening with muscles. It’s ridiculous. I was like, ‘Oh my God.’ I started to work out with a trainer, but it was my buddy

Taylor Kitsch who got me into it.” With the trainer and Kitsch as his gym shepherds, Stan began exercising in earnest.

Then, in 2013, ahead of The Winter Soldier, Stan teamed up with trainer Don Saladino, who’d also sculpted Ryan Reynolds, John Krasinski, and Liev Schreiber. That same year, Stan starred in a Broadway revival of William Inge’s Picnic, playing a character whose defining trait is his hotness.

“Inge was writing something very important about vanity and how people were perceived in terms of being quote-unquote good-looking, beautiful, or pretty,” Stan said in a Playbill interview in 2013. “In the play, there’s something shameful and dirty about it. Our obsession with beauty has not changed. When we see something that turns us on, we either appreciate it or judge it. It’s so primal. We still dismiss people if they’re pretty; we don’t care how they feel, because they should just be happy looking the way they do. That’s something we were trying to say with this production.” Stan is less philosophical about his Picnic bod these days. “I had to be basically shirtless every night, like eight shows a week,” he says. “I really zoned in on diet, and everything transformed.”

He prefers exercising on an empty stomach, so he generally starts his day with coffee—and a rice cake with some almond butter and honey if he’s feeling depleted. Today he was feeling very depleted, he says, so he had some scrambled eggs with Brussels sprouts and aioli. “I’m not going to tell you the place where I got that,” he adds, unprompted and wary, as though I might start dining there daily in a stalker vigil.

Stan is a proponent of “quality over quantity,” but that doesn’t mean he skimps on his workouts; he just knows that a 20-minute session that catapults his heart rate into the red zone is as effective as an hour of low-intensity bullshit. He runs (“I’m not going to tell you where”) when he’s feeling meditative.

In advance of the Falcon shoot, Stan started lifting weights every morning and knocking out stunt training for the fight scenes. He points out that filming an action movie is a workout in itself: You spend whole days running around and sweating in a heavy suit. “I mean, next to Evans and Hemsworth and all those guys, I feel like I’m 50 miles behind. I don’t think I can get to that size, to be honest,” he says. That aside, Stan feels, in his late 30s, better than ever. “My body right now is probably the best it’s ever been.”

THERE'S A PHOTO of Stan, age 15, on his Instagram. It’s a headshot from Stagedoor Manor, an acting camp that he attended while in high school. He’s recognizable from the brow up—he has the same broad forehead, the same voluminous hair. His arms look pale and soft, like overcooked linguine, and he’s staring down the camera with theater-kid intensity.

Stan lived in Romania until he was eight years old. Shortly after the Romanian revolution, he and his mother moved to Vienna and stayed there for four years before heading to New York in 1995. No, he says, he didn’t have a foreign exchange student’s social cachet in middle school. “Maybe if I was from France or something. But I am Eastern European. We left communism,” he says. “When I came here, I just wanted to be like everybody else.”

I ask Stan which of his mannerisms are typically Romanian. “You’re kind of putting me on the spot to define a whole nation—a guy who hasn’t been there for years,” he says. But he thinks for a second. “For me, based on my mother, the ‘Romanian temperament’ is perseverance—being able to handle more than you think you can. At 27, my mother was working two jobs in a foreign country where she barely spoke the language. There’s a sense of family and perseverance that’s deeply ingrained in the blood.”

Even for someone who has experienced a certain degree of stardom, Marvel fans can be a shock to one’s sense of family. Certain Marvel stars acquiesce to the attention on some level, greeting fans with a Chris Hemsworthian openness to scrutiny. Stan’s boundaries are reflexive and firm, as though his sense of self is always under attack. (Which, to be fair, it may well be: “He’s so reserved,” Mackie says, “but in this day and age that’s a very good quality.”)

Stan is more protective of his personal life than most actors. Celebrities often use social media to dispense calculated chunks of themselves in exchange for privacy. Stan occasionally opens up on Instagram: “Been working with this guy through years of self judgement and mental wars when it comes to fitness and LIFE,” he wrote of Saladino in a caption accompanying a gym selfie. But questions about the people in his orbit ping ineffectually against his poker face.

He attributes this to only-vaguely-alluded-to incidents in which his family and friends were subject to public attention. As a public figure, he has opted into that attention, he explains, but they haven’t. It upset him when they were the targets of scrutiny, particularly when that scrutiny came from his fans. Stan seems to be looking for earnestness in an industry that, on the whole, disdains earnestness. He “tries hard to find the honest moment,” as he himself puts it (much like how he saw a profound statement about “our obsession with beauty” in William Inge’s horny play).

In this, the Marvel universe is an improbably good fit for him. We speak the week after Martin Scorsese said Marvel films “are not cinema,” and Stan is as defensive of the films as he can be without disrespecting Scorsese, one of his heroes. “All I know is that all movies affect people,” he says. “I’ve certainly experienced firsthand many people who have been affected and helped by Marvel movies.”

Captain America fans lean earnest. People have told Stan that Bucky Barnes helped them cope with their PTSD. During Q&A sessions, he’s asked questions like “What would Bucky Barnes’s major be?” and “What happened to Bucky Barnes when he fell from the train?” Stan fields those questions without sarcasm or diversion.

“They think we are these people,” Stan says, again without condescension. He’s content to take questions about Bucky Barnes, especially if it distracts fans from asking questions about Sebastian Stan. “Now we’re much more obsessed with the personality rather than the actor. We take people and swallow them and digest them and chew them up, and then we spit them out the other side. Then we’re done,” he says. “We’ve done that with numerous celebrities—people. I’ve seen people have massive ups and downs and stuff. All I can do is just try to be as honest as I can. And do my job.”

Men's Health Magazine, December 19, 2019.

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #winter soldier #mens health #long post

1K notes · View notes

pastelsandpining · 4 years ago

Text

Christmas Wrappings (Missed Connections)

The tenth prompt in 12 Days of Christmas by @zelink-prompts, a sequel to prompt #4, Broken Heart

Prompt List

Words: 3072

Summary: Zelda attends Kakariko Village’s Hylia’s Day Celebration with her roommates, and Link shows up to join in on the fun.

Warnings: second hand embarrassment probably, statements such as “contemplated jumping into the nearest pond”

BotW Modern AU

Zelink-mas 2020 l Masterlist

A semester had passed by in the blink of an eye.

Well, that wasn’t very accurate. There were periods of time where the semester felt like it was just crawling, and there were times she became so overwhelmed with her work that she considered dropping out. But she loved her work with Sheikah technology, and she was at the top of nearly every class, and she loved the group of friends she’d made at Akkala Technical University, so she pushed through to the end.

Three of those close friends were Sheikah, which was incredibly helpful whenever she got stuck on a research paper or a lab. Two of those Sheikah friends were also her roommates, which meant she had help at all times. It also meant that she would be begging them all to come visit over the winter break.

That went both ways, of course. So when Impa and Purah demanded that Zelda come spend a week with them in Kakariko for the Hylia’s Day celebration, she couldn’t say no.

The village was quaint and Zelda fell in love with it immediately. Winter break or not, she could learn so much from just being around so many Sheikah. She was excited, to say the least.

Her phone vibrating in her pocket broke her moment of peace. She fished it out of her pocket and frowned. That slap of guilt had never left, which she was kindly reminded of every time she saw his name pop up on the screen.

[Hey, are you coming back to Castle Town for the break?]

Zelda took a breath and debated throwing her phone into the nearest pond. It was complicated. She tried ghosting him in the first few weeks of the semester, but that hurt more than talking to him did. So she chickened out of it with some lame excuse and decided to stay frustrated with herself for her stupid choices for the rest of time.

[I’m in Kakariko with some roommates for Hylia’s Day, but I’ll be back home in a week] she replied. His response was almost immediate.

[I’m in Hateno! You should come visit :)]

Goddesses, he was still annoyingly adorable. It was a good thing she was way past crying, or she’d be sniffling.

[Why don’t you make your way up here, lazy bones?]

[Is that an official invite? :D]

Zelda bit her lip and glanced around her, as if someone would be watching her mistakes over her shoulder. She still hadn’t entered the village yet. It wasn’t too late to book it to Castle Town and then revoke the playful invite.

[If you can make it here, then yes :)]

“Who’s got your nose glued to that phone?”

She jumped, sending her phone flying out of her hands and into a nearby bush. Of course, Purah doubled over in laughter as she went to fetch it.

“Purah!” Zelda exclaimed, just barely keeping herself from stomping like a child.

“Sorry,” Purah replied once she’d gained her breath back. But she wasn’t sorry at all. “Ugh, Link is still bothering you?”

“He’s not a bother,” Zelda defended, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Really? Because you told me you were over him.”

“That.. well, uh, might’ve been a teensy lie.”

Purah stared at her with what could only be described as a I-Shouldn’t-Be-Surprised-Because-You’re-That-Obvious-But-I’m-Disappointed-Anyway look and Zelda looked at anything but her roommate.

“You invited him over?!”

“I panicked!”

“How on Hylia’s green Hyrule you are the highest placing student at Akkala Tech is beyond me. Do you need a 101 in how to avoid ex boyfriends?”

“I don’t want to avoid him,” Zelda argued, but this conversation was going to take a turn if she didn’t stop it. “Where’s Impa?”

“She’s getting stuff ready at the house, but don’t think this is over because I’ll drag her into it too,” Purah warned as she linked an arm through hers and tugged her into the village.

“I’ll just tell him nevermind! It’s a girls week, right?”

Purah huffed and gave her another tug.

“Cherry’s coming at the end of the week and wherever Cherry goes, Robbie goes. So, no, not girls week.”

Zelda almost laughed. Seeing Robbie again was going to be interesting, but she was excited for it. A week away from home with some of her favorite people in all of Hyrule, what was not to love?

Purah took her to the largest house in the little village, and her excitement rose.

“You’re here!” exclaimed Impa when the door swung open. Zelda ripped her arm free from Purah’s hold so that she could hug her best friend.

“I love your house!” Zelda replied, looking around with wide eyes. “I’d stay here forever if I could.”

“We’re just getting started.”

It took less than ten minutes for Zelda to get settled in with the girls, and even less time for her to end up being scolded by both Sheikah sisters.

“Look at his photo,” Purah said, handing the phone off to Impa.

“And you let him go?” Impa asked incredulously as she looked up with wide eyes. Zelda felt like she was being interrogated.

“It’s complicated,” she defended, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, let me uncomplicate it.” Purah plucked the phone from Impa’s hands and Zelda nearly tackled her when she started typing.

“What are you doing?!”

“Helping you.”

When Zelda managed to wrestle her phone back to herself, Purah had already done the damage.

[Check it, it’s Z’s roommate. Come down any time ;) She’s gotta talk to you]

“Why?!” Zelda exclaimed, throwing the phone onto the nearest pillow so she didn’t have to see his response.

“Because you’re helpless!”

She looked to Impa for help, but Impa only shrugged.

“It’s for your own good, Z.”

Needless to say, day one of her trip to Kakariko didn’t go as planned.

The rest of the week went rather swimmingly compared to that. Zelda was coaxed into playing countless games with the village children, which was absolutely fascinating. They were so lively and intelligent. She remembered when she was like that, young and full of life before college sucked it right out of her.

Impa took her all over Kakariko, and then out to Goponga Village up in Lanayru Wetlands, and to Deya Village for a tour of places she’d never seen. The people were incredibly kind to her, and she was having more fun than she had when they were confined to the campus of their university.

It almost took her mind off of things entirely.

And Hylia’s Day came quickly. She spent it hanging up lights with Impa and Purah, watching a few other Sheikah return from the woods with game for the feast. Music was pouring from one corner, and Zelda scampered her way out of a dance with a poet by hiding behind Robbie—who’d arrived with Cherry for the celebration.

It was so different from how they celebrated in Castle Town, which was more of a carnival that lasted over a span of days. This was quieter, more personal, which made sense given the Sheikah were people of Hylia. It felt so much more intimate and real, and Zelda loved it. She wasn’t a diehard believer, but she respected it. During the opening prayer, facing the statue of the goddess, she even felt a sort of soft connection.

And then the festivities really kicked up. Zelda was almost ready to lose herself in the fun with her roommates, but in the process of searching for Purah with Impa, she ran into a very familiar face. Quite literally.

She scrambled backwards, grabbing onto Impa’s arm so she didn’t lose her footing.

“Hey,” Link said, giving her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey,” she stuttered in return.

“Hey,” Impa input with an awkward wave. Zelda laughed just as awkwardly in an attempt to snap herself out of it.

“Um, Link, this is my roommate Impa. Impa, this is Link.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Impa said. Zelda resisted the urge to crawl under a rock and stay there forever.

“All good things, I hope,” Link replied with a laugh, glancing over at her. Zelda laughed again, just as awkward as the first.

“Totally. You’re welcome to join us for the festivities. There’s enough food to go around.” With that, Impa turned and continued her search for her sister. The crowd wasn’t that big, but Purah could be quite the escape artist when she wanted to be.

Zelda followed, falling into step with Link. She tried not to look at him too much. College hadn’t changed him at all, so he was just as, well.. Link as he was before. But she didn’t want the awkward and tense air to suffocate her, so she fiddled with her fingers and spoke again.

“So, um, is Hateno celebrating too?”

“Not like this. It’s more of an individual family thing,” he replied.

“It’s fascinating how everyone celebrates differently. What.. what made you decide to come up to Kakariko?”

“Well, you and your roommate invited me over and it’d just be rude to refuse.”

She made the mistake of looking over at him, and he smiled at her again. Zelda fought back her own smile and stuck her hands into her pockets.

“How’s.. life?” she asked, and tried not to visibly cringe.

“It’s okay,” Link answered with a shrug. “I see we both survived the first semester.”

“Barely,” Zelda corrected, glancing at Impa ahead of them. “If it weren’t for my roommates, I don’t think I-“

“Hold that thought, Z. Robbie incoming,” Impa warned. She hardly had time to brace herself before the eccentric genius was in front of them, and he’d dragged Purah and Cherry with him.

“Ah, there’s the rest of my entourage. What’s up, pretty ladies?” he greeted, wrestling to keep Purah under his arm.

“I thought you were supposed to be keeping him reigned in,” Impa said, setting her hands on her hips as she looked at Cherry.

“There’s no reigning in a party animal,” Robbie defended as Purah broke free of his grasp.

“Right,” Purah replied with an eyeroll. “Because a party animal passes out in our dorm at midnight after living off of energy drinks for forty-two hours.”

Robbie gave her a finger gun and clicked his tongue, and Zelda considered using this as an escape. But if she did escape, she wouldn’t have her friends to cover for her if Link decided to try talking.

“Um, these are my friends,” she told him, gesturing to the mess. “Purah, Cherry, and Robbie.”

“So this is the ex boyfriend, huh?” Purah asked as she lit up and circled him like a predator.

“That would be me, yes,” Link replied sheepishly.

“Again, I don’t know how you’re the top of your class, Z.

“Can we not insult my bad decisions?” Zelda asked with her hands on her hips.

“Not a chance,” Purah answered. “You’re just lucky the feast is about to start.”

“Thank Hylia,” Zelda muttered and followed after the chattering group.

“They seem nice,” Link said, nodding ahead of them.

“And genius,” she added. “Sometimes, next to them I feel extremely ordinary.”

“There’s nothing ordinary about you, Zel,” he replied. Zelda averted her gaze and laughed.

“Of course you would say that.”

“The truth?”

She shook her head with another smile, sticking her hands back into her pockets. In the middle of the village, a row of tables had been pushed together to form a banquet table that spanned the length of the place. Zelda took her seat besides Impa, and Link besides her, and then the feast really began.

“Have you learned any new recipes?” she asked curiously as they ate.

“Yeah, actually. I’ve started putting together a cookbook so I can always reference them.”

“Very smart. I don’t suppose you live off of microwaved noodles then.”

Link smiled and replied, “Sometimes.”

She could admit to herself, and preferably only herself, that she’d missed this. Talking to him, hanging out with him, it was part of her routine schedule and she didn’t realize that until she wasn’t texting him and calling him and meeting up for whatever silly activities they'd planned for the day.

And so far, despite how awkward she felt, it wasn’t going horribly. It could’ve been a lot worse. Like, goddesses, what would she have done if he’d appeared with another girl? Okay, no, she knew better than that. He wouldn’t do that to her. But did he have—

Why did she care oh goddesses Zelda get it together if you’re gonna spend Hylia’s Day thinking about a boy instead of having fun with your friends why did you bother coming Impa and Purah are going to tear you apart for this they will never let you live it down-

Zelda attempted to crumple those thoughts the way she’d crumpled failed outlines of research papers and tossed them into the nearest pit of fire in her brain.

The feast gave way to dancing. Tables were moved off to the sides, opening an area up for children and couples alike to do whatever they pleased. Purah and Robbie were some of the first to participate, and Zelda snorted when Impa looked away like she wasn’t aware of, or for that matter related to, one of them.

“You should join them,” Link teased, nudging her with his elbow. It was the first contact they’d made all evening. She hated that it sent her heart racing.

“Absolutely not,” she replied and crossed her arms over her chest. “Besides, I don’t dance.”

He hummed sarcastically in response, making it clear that he knew better. He’d caught her dancing in her room when she thought she was alone, he’d roped her into dancing in the kitchen at two in the morning, and he’d dragged her to prom (which she would insist until the day she died that she was not interested in).

“Maybe you should start,” Link ended up saying. “Because it looks like someone’s about to ask you.”

Zelda’s heart stopped in her chest. Was he..? But then she followed his gaze and was disappointed (disappointed??) to find the same poet boy from earlier eyeing her like he was indeed thinking about it.

She could admit it wasn’t one of her best plans of escape, but she turned to Link and bit her lip.

“Save me?” she asked, extending a hand. He eyed it for a second, leaning back against a railing with a shrug.

“I dunno. Seems like a fitting punishment for someone who lied about dancing,” he replied, mischief twinkling in his sky blue eyes.

Oh, she was not about to beg for his help. Two could play that game, and she wouldn’t be the first to cave in.

“Fine, then maybe I will dance with him. He looks nice,” she answered, dropping her hand. She didn’t know what she was hoping for, exactly. To stir up some jealousy?

But Link only shrugged again.

“Suit yourself.”

So when the young poet approached her with a nervous smile and an extended hand, she did accept, offering what she hoped was a charming smile.

She made as much conversation as possible, and she liked to think it was going well.

Until Link swept past her with Purah, shooting her a grin. She glared playfully back, and her roommate winked.

“Trade off!” she shouted, and before Zelda could realize what was happening, much less protest to it, Purah had whisked the poor poet boy away, and she was back in Link’s arms.

“So you decided to save me after all?” she asked, hoping to combat the blush on her cheeks and the butterflies in her stomach.

“Did you not want me to?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow. “I can always go back to Purah.”

“Oh, Purah can do better,” she replied with a roll of her eyes.

“C’mon, Zel, I wasn’t that bad.”

“No, but you were too perfect.”

“Glad you can admit it.”

Zelda laughed and gave him a shove, but he pulled her back against him by her hands and she didn’t fight.

“I missed you,” she said, without a thought for what she was saying.

“Did you?” he asked. His cheeks were red, but his smile told her he already knew. “What are you gonna do about it then, sunshine?”

Well, maybe Purah was right about her being the top of her class, because she was about to do something real stupid. He was smiling at her with that stupid smile, and he was holding her like nothing ever happened, and goddesses, she missed him.

She cupped his face in her hands and pulled him into a long craved kiss, and she pretended she couldn’t hear Robbie whooping in the background.

“There’s my Zel,” Link said once they parted, leaning his forehead against hers.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” she pointed out, brushing her fingers through his hair.

“I didn’t want anyone else,” he replied simply, then pressed a kiss to her nose.

“Is this my Hylia’s Day gift?” she asked with a laugh.

“Yep. Me, in all my glory. If it’s what you want.”

“I do.”

“Thank Hylia, now we can stop hearing about it,” said a voice that did not belong. Zelda whipped around to face Purah with wide eyes.

“Ooh, exposed,” Link sang, hugging her waist like he couldn’t get enough of her.

“Happy Hylia’s Day, you’re very much welcome,” Purah replied with a bow. Zelda contemplated throwing something at her.

“You are my least favorite roommate,” Zelda complained.

“Yeah, yeah, you can thank me on your wedding day.”

She buried her face in her hands as Purah skipped off, and Link’s laughter filled her ears.

Yeah, maybe one day she would thank her. But for now, she owed someone an apology.

“I’m sorry for.. you know,” she mumbled, turning back to face Link.

“Don’t apologize for needing time to figure stuff out,” he replied as he set a hand on her cheek, running his thumb over her cheekbone.

“Well, I figured out one thing,” she said.

“And what’s that?”

“That I don’t really want to be without you. Is that dumb?”

“Not at all.”

Link pulled her into another kiss and she hugged him close, deciding that this was probably one of the best Hylia’s Day celebrations she’d been to in a while. The goddess must’ve been smiling upon her today specifically, and she didn’t mind at all.

#zelink #botw zelink #modern au #christmas prompt #zelink prompts #link calling zelda sunshine is just #it hits me right in the heart #forever his nickname for her in my work

27 notes · View notes

thesportssoundoff · 5 years ago

Text

Lists ‘N Stuff: The Top 10 UFC WWs from 2010 to 2019

I like lists! It’s my thing these days I guess. I started doing this particular list because my attempt at creating the top 10 boxing welterweights of the 2000s was pretty much DOA given how most of the guys you’d expect (Cotto, Mayweather, Pacquaio, Mosley) all jumped around weight classes so frequently in that era that I’d either be left removing Floyd (who fought thrice at the weight) or Pacquaio (twice) or trying to justify how Carlos Quintana and Louis Collazo were actually really genuinely top 10 welterweights. I figured I could extend that to just 140 and 147 lbs but at that point I gave up. Instead let’s jump sports and go right to MMA which I’ve been chronologically bullshitting about on here since 2012. Just HOW good was the UFC’s welterweight division from 2010 to 2019? Well let’s do the hard work!

Couple of caveats here:

-This is strictly based upon 1) your fights at WW only and 2) your fights ONLY in the UFC. Guys who were fighting outside the organization don’t have those fights count against your record.

-There’s a FIVE fight minimum to be eligible. This is primarily due to not wanting to have to deal with “What about Conor/Nate/Nick?!” questions.

-Unless a fighter actually popped positive on a drug test, I did not try to dock anybody who I suspected of being on PEDs. We know the UFC was the wild wild west for most of this era so rather than be the equivalent of the guy who swears RDA is on steroids because “Well he started winning then he lost!”, I stuck to the facts.

Honorable Mentions:

Colby Covington- As much as we all may dislike Covington for what he does and says, the fact of the matter is that Colby Covington is a genuinely good welterweight. Wins over Robbie Lawler, Demian Maia and Rafael Dos Anjos are his two big punctuation marks but this is also a guy who gave Kamaru Usman hell for an extended period in their title fight and holds a bevy of solid under the radar wins over the likes of Max Griffin and Dong Hyun Kim. I could see somebody putting Covington on their top 10 and I wouldn't begrudge them at all. I just couldn't cross that bridge on my end.

Rafael Dos Anjos- RDA is probably a top 10 all time lightweight and one of the greatest fighters of the 2010s but I still think I prefer RDA's dominance as a lightweight. As a welterweight he got off to a tremendously hot start in the weight class punctuated by a win over Robbie Lawler but from then on? It's been a pretty dry run. Since the Lawler fight, RDA is 1-4 and the pattern is pretty much out there. If you pressure him early and prevent him from getting a good feel for the space and pace of the fight, he's a pretty easy touch. He's gritty and durable but he basically exists now to test if you're ready for the big step up. I'm not a big fan of the gatekeeper label for dudes like RDA so I prefer the term mini boss. He's the guy who checks to see if you're ready for the big boss.

Leon Edwards- Leon Edwards is 10-2 and coming off a career defining win over RDA and yet he's not in the top 10? Against fighters who have better records than him?! To begin with, Edwards has a looot of dead air on his resume. We're talking about guys who weren't even relevant at the time of their fight. A green Vicente Luque and Bryan Barberena were his good wins but not exactly top 10 worthy, especially given the UFC roster bloat. There's also only one guy on the top 10 list who did NOT get at least an interim title shot and that guy beat him up in a backstage fight so it's not like I could squeeze him in. I also have to admit (unfortunately) that Edwards is sort of a dull fighter who tends to get overlooked on lists like this.

Jake Shields- I don't think there's anything wrong with Jake Shields sneaking onto this list. Shields' run as a welterweight in the UFC was a 4-3 jaunt (that felt like the 100 year war) with wins over some damn good fighters but mostly in close contested score card-y fights. On paper though wins over Woodley and Maia SHOULD get you into the top 10 though so again, if he's on yours then fine. No shame in losses to Hector Lombard, GSP and Ellenberger.

Jake Ellenberger- If you remove the last five fights of his career when he was just sort of being trudged out there because “He hit hard so he can always win a fight!”, Jake Ellenberger has a spiffy record of 9-6 with wins over the likes of Jake Shields, Josh Koscheck and a not exactly cooked Diego Sanchez while his losses are to the likes of Rory Mac, Robbie Lawler, Wonderboy and the generally underrated Martin Kampmann. Not a top 10 for the decade even at that point but the rise of the elite four in Colby, Masvidal, Usman and Woodley and him continually getting fights over and over and over haven’t been kind to him. Ellenberger, Kampmann and Carlos Condit are the three guys who will always be sort of forgotten by modern fans who deserve their just due.

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

1- Georges St. Pierre Record in the 10s (Jan 1st 2010 to December 31st 2019)- 6-0 Record in title fights- 6-0 Record against other fighters on the list- 2-0

So in hindsight, GSP's resume is not exactly all that hot. Dan Hardy, Jake Shields and Josh Koscheck all pretty much faded out of relevancy shortly after their title fights although GSP probably ended Koscheck's career. GSP's record is a mere 6-0 and he pretty much sat out the Woodley/Lawler/Hendricks era of MMA minus a cameo to claim the UFC's middleweight crown. Ignore that part of his resume and instead remember that GSP tore his ACL on TWO separate occasions and there were genuine questions about his ability to come back and fight. Not only did he come back but he came back with basically the same style that made him a legend slightly tweaked and amplified to overcome his lack of explosiveness. GSP will always be viewed differently because he didn't finish fights but again, he was pretty much cooked physically well into his early 30s due to repeated knee injuries. What's more? GSP should be #1 overall if only because he is one of the few guys in MMA who was able to continually dictate his own terms. He was able to pick who he fought because for years he fought EVERYBODY there was to fight. He was able to choose where he fought because he was the UFC's biggest draw before the rise of Conor McGregor. He beat Hendricks in a close fight, realized his health took priority and retired. He started a media war with the UFC and won that too. Then he returns, coaxes the UFC into giving him a middleweight title fight, wins that and then realizes that he doesn't have to fight anymore against what was at the time a rising crop of genuinely bad ass middleweight contenders like Robert Whittaker, Yoel Romero and the likes of Weidman, Jacare, Gastelum, Rockhold and so on so forth. GSP got in, got titles, got paid and then got out when the situation didn't seem right to him. That's #1 shit.

2- Tyron Woodley Record in the 10s (Jan 1st 2010 to December 31st 2019)- 9-3-1 Record in title fights- 4-1-1 Record against other fighters on the list- 4-2-1

To quote the always esteemed "Tyron Woodley is just going to continue to piss people off." Woodley's UFC reign began with him bombing out Jay Heiron on short notice and then he followed that up by smelting Jay Heiron and then sort of stumbled over his feet to the tune of a 2-2 record. After his loss to Rory MacDonald in June of 2014, Woodley went on one of the welterweight divisions more impressive tears with wins over Dong Hyun Kim, Robbie Lawler, Stephen Thompson and Darren Till to name a few. Woodley's fights were either really great (Thompson I, Till) or really awful (Thompson II, Gastelum) with very little in between space. His 4-1-1 record in title fights and 4-2-1 record against competition on this ledger paint the picture of one of MMA's best neutralizers and one of the greatest resumes of the 2010s. Woodley's 2019 pretty much hit the skids as he lost to Kamaru Usman in a blow out and then pretty much disappeared with hand and shoulder issues. Woodley's probably approaching the back 9 of his career but I would be stunned if he wasn't in the top 3 welterweights all time even when the NEXT decade ended. All hail MMA's greatest nuisance.

3- Robbie Lawler Record in the 10s (Jan 1st 2010 to December 31st 2019)- 9-5 Record in title fights- 3-2 Record against other fighters on the list- 4-2

I remain a sentimentalist I suppose. The latter days of the Lawler era are painful in large part because years of wars and a style that willingly sacrificed rounds 2 to 4 finally caught up with Robbie Lawler. He just sort of fell apart which isn't too surprising since from December 2013 to Jan 2016 he fought NINE times with FIVE of those fights going a full five rounds. From that period of time Lawler has win over Rory MacDonald (twice), Carlos Condit, Jake Ellenberger, Matt Brown, Johny Hendricks with FOUR fight of the nights and FOUR UFC title fights. Robbie Lawler spoiled us to believe welterweight fights were always awesome because every fight he was in WAS awesome. The latter era of Lawler is pretty sad. Woodley beat IMO the last image of a prime Robbie Lawler but after that I think it's fair to say the fire was gone. He probably deserved to lose to Donald Cerrone as well if we're being honest. The one brief flicker of light was against Ben Asken in a fight I thought he won prior to Askren pulling out a sub in a rally come from behind 1st round "win" dare I say. Lawler has had a lot of injuries, a lot of inactivity (he fought the same number of fights in 2014 alone than he has since the start of 2017) and sometimes the magic just runs out.

4- Kamaru Usman Record in the 10s (Jan 1st 2010 to December 31st 2019)- 11-0 Record in title fights- 2-0 Record against other fighters on the list- 2-0

Next to Wonderboy vs Rory MacDonald, Lawler vs Usman was a tremendous struggle for me. Kamaru Usman's steadier and had more of a balance to his career. Even if he had slipped up once or twice prior to this, Usman's overall dominance is stupendous. Wins over RDA and a bunch of good welterweights like Leon Edwards, Sergio Moraes and Colby Covington are good enough to get you on the list but getting into the top 5 requires you to scalp Tyron Woodley in a blowout. Usman's here because for most of the early portions of his UFC career, he was borderline brutal to watch and his competition was pretty blegh/eh/meh. Usman's rise really took off in after the Emil Meek fight and the Woodley/Covington back to back performances vaulted him up the rankings big time. The fun part with Usman is seeing how high he'll go when this list is re-done in 2030 or so. By the time we hit 2022 or so, Usman could have wins over Masvidal, Edwards (again), Covington (again) and potentially a whole new banner crop of welters.

5- Stephen Thompson Record in the 10s (Jan 1st 2010 to December 31st 2019)- 10-4-1 Record in title fights- 0-1-1 Record against other fighters on the list- 3-1-1

If we decided to rank these dudes in order of politeness, Thompson and Maia would be fighting for the #1 spot. Sometimes I wonder if Wonderboy is forgotten when we discuss the best UFC fighters to never win a title. On this list alone, he beat Johny Hendricks, Jorge Masvidal and Rory MacDonald. He gave two tough title fights to Tyron Woodley while holding the title of having arguably the biggest disparity in title fight quality in said title fights. He'll probably never live down getting smelted by a pudgy lightweight in Anthony Pettis and that alone could've been enough to knock him down the charts I suppose. I wonder how the WW division would've changed if Wonderboy arrives in, say, 2010 or so as opposed to 2012. He's just never had the gear to go out and take a tough fight away from the other guy which is why he lost twice to Woodley and suffered that kind of brutal decision loss to Darren Till.

6- Rory MacDonald Record in the 10s (Jan 1st 2010 to December 31st 2019)- 9-4 Record in title fights- 0-1 Record against other fighters on the list- 2-4

Rory entered the UFC in 2010 and was gone before 2016 was over. In six years, he has one of MMA's most impressive resumes with a whose who of fights against the elite of the elites. He fought Robbie Lawler twice, Carlos Condit, Demian Maia, Stephen Thompson, BJ Penn, Jake Ellenberger and Tyron Woodley and that's all without looking it up. He'll always be defined by the war vs Robbie Lawler that basically broke him beyond repair. Rory may not be a top 3 WW but of the ten names on this list, he's arguably among the more culturally significant to the MMA landscape. Rory is without question one of the best welterweights of his era and I also think he's one of the few dudes who did it while almost certainly without steroids. My hat is off to him.

7- Demian Maia Record in the 10s (Jan 1st 2010 to December 31st 2019)- 12-5 Record in title fights- 0-1 Record against other fighters on the list- 2-3

So when I originally did this list, I had Demian Maia MUCH higher up. Like above Rory higher. Maia being ranked above Rory Mac sounds like a bit of a crock given how MacDonald beat Maia BUT I'm also accounting for long term career relevance in a sense. Maia's still having competitive fights at WW (pause on that Burns fight) and beating up on dudes sometimes 15 years younger than him while Rory is 3-2-1 since leaving the UFC and 3-4-1 since 2015 ended. That said when you factor in the Woodley performances for each guy plus Rory's prime being so magnetic (and the win in the H-2-H matchup, I made a switch). When you consider how utterly one dimension Demian Maia is, it's a testament to how insane that dimension is that he's up this high. Maia has wins over list guys Carlos Condit, Jorge Masvidal and relatively dominant performances over dudes you'd recognize like Ben Askren, Lyman Good, Neil Magny, Gunnar Nelson and then undefeated Ryan LaFlare. His losses are to genuinely legitimately awesome fighters like Rory MacDonald, Kamaru Usman and Tyron Woodley.

8- Johny Hendricks Record in the 10s (Jan 1st 2010 to December 31st 2019)- 10-6 Record in title fights- 1-2 Record against other fighters on the list- 2-3

Hendricks is another dude who had an unceremonious ending to his career. From 2011 to 2015, he was genuinely at worst #3 in the welterweight rankings. We're talking a resume loaded with guys like Josh Koscheck, Carlos Condit, Martin Kapmann, John Fitch, Matt Brown, GSP and Robbie Lawler all on the docket. I went back and watched Hendricks vs GSP for this and still come away thinking Johny got jobbed. Hendricks' career will always be filled with question marks and what if's. We'll never know whether he was on steroids and we'll never know what would've happened if Hendricks would've kept himself in shape more consistently to avoid the ballooning up that eventually fucked his body up. We'll never know if he would've beaten GSP in a rematch or how he would've done had the rumored Nick Diaz vs Johny Hendricks fight that was in talks for 2015 (the one which led to Anderson vs Nick Diaz) would've panned out. Hendricks is a what if but the fact he is a what if while also being a top 10 welterweight for a loaded decade of great fighters is a damn testament to how big of a whirlwind he was for the beginning of the decade.

9- Jorge Masvidal Record in the 10s (Jan 1st 2010 to December 31st 2019)- 7-5 Record in title fights- 0-0 Record against other fighters on the list- 0-2

Jorge Masvidal makes it onto the list primarily due to his run on the back half of the 2010s. Regardless of how you feel about Darren Till, Nate Diaz and Ben Askren, those are three of the most impressive wins of 2019. He was in the running for 2019's FOTY (I believe he WAS my pick) and is having a seriously impressive second half of his career. Even his losses are all in pretty damn close fights minus Wonderboy who just casually pieced him up. The reason he's so low is that the two guys on this list that he fought, he lost to. Masvidal historically has been a guy who can feast on the lower portions of (insert division/rankings here) but when it comes to the step up, he never actually takes the next step in fights he can CLEARLY win. If he ever fights Kamaru Usman, he could move up higher on the list and if he wins then we need to talk about Masvidal as having a Bisping-esque career resume.

10- Carlos Condit Record in the 10s (Jan 1st 2010 to December 31st 2019)- 6-8 Record in title fights- 1-2 Record against other fighters on the list- 1-5

If Carlos Condit had simply retired like he planned to after the Maia loss, he would've retired 6-5 with wins over the likes of Rory MacDonald, Nick Diaz and Martin Kampmann from 2010 to 2019. Instead his resume was littered with rough losses in three straight fights against substandard competition. Carlos Condit's run from 2011 to 2013 is stuff of legend but the tide clearly turned after tearing his ACL vs Tyron Woodley. He had one big turning back the clock performance vs Robbie Lawler in a fight I still to this day feel like he won. Condit's body and lack of significant pop in his hands just put the ceiling on his career. Condit's back 9 of the 2010s are ugly but on the front leg, he was the first dude to beat DHK, the first to beat Rory MacDonald, beat Nick Diaz, gave GSP his toughest fight in years and IMO beat Johny Hendricks. Also come on now dudes. If you think Condit wasn't on this list somehow then you don't know me.

#UFC #MMA #Woodley #Condit #Hendricks #Lawler #Shields #MacDonald #Wonderboy #Usman #Masvidal

12 notes · View notes

juju-on-that-yeet · 5 years ago

Text

Unravel, Chapter 11/20

Work Summary: Antisepticeye has a plan to destroy Darkiplier, steal his power, and take over everything - and he might just succeed. What starts with Yandereplier going missing evolves into a messy web of betrayal and grief, of blood and tears, of old wounds and new faces. However this ends, Ego Inc. will never be the same again. Chapter Summary: The egos get new information from an unexpected outside source, compelling Dr. Iplier to reconsider his silence. Warnings: Mild blood and violence, intense emotions ;u;

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

A few days later, Yandere is well enough to be discharged from the clinic. As much as Dr. Iplier wants to keep him there, he knows Yandere has made a lot of recovery progress already, and Yandere himself is itching to leave. Dr. Iplier knows, too, that it’s mostly his own fear and concern over his boy that’s making him want to keep Yandere close, and not Yandere’s actual condition. Still, he can’t help but lecture Yandere as he’s preparing to discharge him, insisting that he be careful and take it easy until he’s fully healed.

“Oh, lay off, Doc!” chides Wilford, who poofed in a few minutes ago with the intent to hang out with Yandere for his first day out of the clinic. “He gets it, just let him go already.”

“I’ll be careful, Dad, I swear,” Yandere adds.

“Alright, alright,” Dr. Iplier sighs. “I just worry about you, kiddo.”

That’s an understatement if there ever was one. It’s not just Yandere’s physical injuries Dr. Iplier’s worried about; it’s his emotional hurt, too. After that first night, Yandere hasn’t slept for more than a few hours at a time without waking with a nightmare. Sometimes it’s about Dark, about how he must have felt to be torn apart, and Yandere will cry anew for him, weeping until he exhausts himself back to sleep. Sometimes it’s about Anti, about the mental and physical torture Yandere suffered under his control, and Yandere will wake screaming and begging for mercy, shaking in Dr. Iplier’s arms until Dr. Iplier manages to coax him back to sleep. Even now, standing before Dr. Iplier and begging to be discharged, there’s a sad, tired glaze to his eyes, a difference in the way he carries himself.

None of that has to be said. Yandere’s expression softens and he walks up to Dr. Iplier to hug him.

“I’ll be okay eventually, Dad,” Yandere murmurs, “I already feel a lot better.”

Dr. Iplier’s heart burns. He can’t help but think of the additional two weeks he let Yandere suffer as he tried to figure out what to do about Anti’s plan. Still, he hugs Yandere back, squeezing tight.

“Alright, sweet pea,” he says, kissing Yandere’s forehead, “I’ll let you go. Just–”

“Be careful, I know!” Yandere laughs, stepping out of the hug. “I got it, Dad. I promise I’ll go easy on myself.”

“Wilford!” calls a sudden new voice.

Everyone turns to see Silver Shepherd dashing into the room, skidding on the clinic tile and nearly crashing into a cart. He’s not winded thanks to his super-endurance, but he might as well be. He pants not with exertion, but with shock and urgency.

“What do you want?” Wilford asks, grumpy at his intrusion. Yandere and Dr. Iplier regard Silver much less critically.

Silver holds up a small gadget – not his phone but his communicator; about the same size as his phone but with a much stronger signal, meant only for talking to Jackie on patrols and connecting to police and fire stations and hospitals. Silver speaks before the others can intuit his reason for showing it.

“Jackieboy Man made contact. He wants to talk to us, all of us. As soon as possible.”

The quiet is stark. Dr. Iplier’s eyes go wide, as do Yandere’s. Wilford’s frown deepens.

“Come on, then,” he says brusquely, approaching Silver, “Let’s take it to the Googles, see if we can get–” He poofs himself and Silver away, presumably to the control room.

Dr. Iplier spares a moment of sympathy for Silver getting tossed through Wilford’s void with no warning, but it’s trifling, barely present under the apprehension. What news does Jackie have for the egos? Dr. Iplier can’t help but feel like things are about to get even worse than they already are. The look on Yandere’s face suggests he’s thinking the same.

“What’s Jackie-san going to tell us?” Yandere asks him, trembling just a little.

“I don’t know,” Dr. Iplier says, putting an arm around him, “But I bet we’ll find out.”

Sure enough, only a few minutes later the pair each get a ping on their phones for an urgent, immediate meeting.

~~~

Dr. Iplier and Yandere take their now-usual seats at the conference table, and the room fills quickly. People are talking amongst each other, but much more quietly and subdued than normal. One could choose a conversation to eavesdrop on if they so desired, as the other noise in the room is minimal. The wall past the end of the table has a flat-screen TV attached there, similar to the end of Markiplier TV, from what Dr. Iplier remembers. They don’t really use the TV much, but right now, the Googles are working on it via the panel next to it on the wall, fiddling with AV cables. At the other end of the cables is Silver’s communicator. Silver himself is standing close by, nervously wringing his hands. Yandere looks over and catches Chrome’s eye as he works, and Chrome only frowns deeper, something desperate in his eyes.

“Alright,” Wilford says, loud over the whispers of the others, in lieu of the usual gunshot, “The reason we’re all here is that Silver–” Silver lifts a hand in a slight wave, “–received a message from Jackie on his communicator.” The whispers quiet as the other egos absorb the knowledge. “The Googles are trying to connect the communicator to the TV so we can speak to Jackie as a group. Jackie himself has news he wants to share with all of us.”

“Got it,” Google says, just as the TV flickers to life. The screen is still mostly black, but with white around the edge, just as the face cam feed on Silver’s communicator currently is. Google nods to Silver, who presses a button on his communicator.

A loading circle appears in the center of the blackness. The room is so silent that Dr. Iplier can just barely hear Silver murmuring “C’mon Jackie, pick up, please pick up,” under his breath.

After what feels like days but is only twenty or so seconds, Jackie appears on the TV.

Nearly everyone gasps, and no wonder: Jackie looks awful. One eye is nearly swollen shut, the other is open but ringed black and purple. His nose is crooked like it’s been broken recently, his nostrils are crusted with blood. His lip is split, his neck is lined as red as his suit, like someone tried to garrote him. His hood is down revealing his green hair, messy and dull. His suit covers the bruises and cuts that must be on his shoulders and upper chest, but there are some tears that reveal jagged gashes underneath. The worst of it, though, is Jackie’s expression: Normally bright, happy, optimistic, now tired, worn, hollow. His injuries remind Dr. Iplier of Yandere’s before he healed, and his expression is far too close to the look in Yandere’s eyes now, the look of someone haunted.

Yandere must see it too, because Dr. Iplier feels him hide his face in Dr. Iplier’s shoulder. Dr. Iplier lets him, and takes his hand to squeeze comfortingly as Yandere starts to shiver.

“Hey, glad I could get a hold of Silver,” Jackie says, trying for a smile and wave. His accent is there, but the bounce and volume are gone. He doesn’t sound like the same person.

“I could say the same about you!” Silver exclaims. No one looks more upset by the sight of Jackie than Silver; even through his mask his distress is tangible. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days, and the others have been trying to talk to your brothers.”

“I suppose,” Wilford cuts in from the head of the table, putting both his hands on the tabletop, “That you’re here to give explanations to that?”

“Yeah,” Jackie says, sighing. “I needed to tell all of you, it’s too important for just Silver and Dark – well, Wilford.”

Damien is at the table, too, and his jaw tenses at the stumble.

“Look, I’ll just come out and say it.” Jackie heaves a shuddering breath, then seems to steel himself. “Anti’s taken the others.”

The whole room gasps again.

“What??” Bim is the one to shout, “Even–”

“He took Marvin first.” Jackie cuts him off. His eyes are full of pain. “I guess he knew Marvin would be the hardest to defeat, so he wanted to get him first while he had the element of surprise. He took JJ and Schneep next. He probably figured they’d go down easier since he’s puppeted them before. I mean, I guess he was right. He got them, too.” Jackie looks away then, starting to tremble. “I tried to keep Chase and Robbie safe, but Anti took them too before long.” He looks back at the others. There are tears in his eyes. “It only took him a few days to take them all from me. He didn’t need to recharge or recover from attacks. We’d break our backs driving him away and he’d be back a few hours later, fighting us just as hard as before. And the more of us he took, the less we could fight, because we can’t just hurt our brothers.” Jackie breathes in, rough. “I know Anti’s not done. He’s leaving me for last. He’s attacked a few times, as you can tell–” He gestures to his face, “–but I think he’s going easy on me. I think he wanted me to get in contact with you guys. He didn’t let us before, god knows we tried. He jammed our signals, even for my communicator.” His eyes glint. “It’s not luck that I’m talking to you guys now. Anti’s letting me. He wants me to talk to you, let you know about all the havoc he’s caused.”

“He’s sending a message,” Wilford muses.

“Exactly,” Jackie sighs. “And the thing about all this is…” Jackie shakes his head again, like he barely trusts his own memory. “Anti’s not normally this strong. If he always had the ability to do something like this, he wouldn’t have waited so long. But I know he didn’t. The way he controlled the others, how he made them fight…they weren’t mindless, but they didn’t have the normal level of free will his puppets have. They were somewhere weird in between. And I swear they were stronger. The thing that made Anti stronger made the others stronger, too.” His eyes go distant. “Chase was always scrappy, but he was never so fast. Schneep never had the knack for fighting at all, but he threw a scalpel from across the room and gave me this.” He points to a hole in his suit, a hole deep in his skin. “Robbie’s never really been able to control his strength or channel it into aggression, but he was like an animal with Anti controlling him. And Marvin’s magic is stronger, and I don’t know how many times JJ was able to reverse and fast-forward time as we fought…” He sighs again against the memories. “Point is, this isn’t typical. I had a hunch as to how Anti got so strong, and I think I’m right, considering Dark isn’t here.”

“Dark’s aura,” Wilford growls.

Jackie nods.

Everyone in the room is frozen with fear just imagining it all. The ones with a friend or two among the Septics are in tears. Dr. Iplier is horrified. Everything he feared about Anti using Dark’s power is coming to life and then some. Beside him, Yandere hasn’t lifted his head from Dr. Iplier’s shoulder, and his trembling has only increased. Dr. Iplier pulls Yandere into his lap and starts to quietly soothe him, trying to distract them both. Yandere whimpers into Dr. Iplier’s neck. His tears are warm on Dr. Iplier’s skin.

“Do you have any idea about what Anti’s plan is, or was?” Bim asks, crying but fighting to keep his voice steady. “We know he used a potion he stole from Marvin, and he took Yandere and kept him as a puppet for a long time. But he let Yandere go after he got Dark’s aura. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Of course it was a potion from Marvin,” Jackie mutters, suddenly bitter. “I told him a hundred times to stop making shit he didn’t need, but he always said he hid them–” The anger falls out of him in a sigh. “Of course Anti found it. He probably always knew where they were. As for Yandere…”

Jackie glances at Yandere, who doesn’t look up from Dr. Iplier’s neck. His gaze softens as he thinks. He probably remembers weeks ago, when Dark and Wilford questioned him about Yandere’s disappearance, before they knew for certain it was Anti’s doing.

“I can’t say why Anti took Yandere like that, but…” Jackie considers. “If he was able to get into Ego Inc. and kidnap Yandere, logic says that he should’ve been able to sneak in and use the potion on Dark himself without all that preamble. Anti’s just reckless enough to try it, but he’s smart, too. He probably knew that if he failed even once, he’d never get another chance. He had to be absolutely sure he could do it. And it couldn’t have been easy to get the drop on someone like Dark.”

“Dark was hurt when Anti took his aura,” Wilford says, subdued and sad. “He’d gotten in a fight with Infelix and got badly burned.”

“He must’ve been waiting for an opening like that,” Jackie continues. He pauses. “But wait, if Dark was hurt, he would’ve been in the clinic, right?”

“Dr. Iplier was there,” Host pipes up, “And The Host arrived soon after. The Host came too late to know exactly what happened, and Dr. Iplier was in shock and had no memory of what he saw. He still does not know what happened.”

Jackie looks toward Dr. Iplier. Even through the TV screen, Dr. Iplier can feel the burn of Jackie’s intense gaze.

“Really?” he asks, somewhere between desperation and disbelief.

“Really,” Dr. Iplier lies. It’s not the first time he’s told that lie, but it’s the hardest, speaking it to the face of someone who’s lost so much to Dr. Iplier’s decisions.

For only a moment, Jackie’s eyes narrow, and then he sighs and shakes his head. But Dr. Iplier’s heart pounds.

“He knows I’m lying.”

“The piece that doesn’t fit is Yandere,” Jackie muses, “There’s no reason to kidnap him unless he wanted a distraction, or…”

“Or…?” Wilford prompts.

“Or leverage.” Jackie finishes. “Leverage against Dark, or you, or someone else. With a plan this big, where one little slip-up would mean failure, Anti would’ve done whatever he had to do to increase his chance of success. Yandere has to fit somewhere in there. But I can’t say how, I don’t know enough.” Pain filters back into his expression. “All I know is that Anti has more power than he ever dreamed. He’s collecting puppets. He got all my brothers, and I know he won’t stop after he gets me. I’ve gotten some communication from other figments he’s attacked. I think he’s looking for the stronger ones, ones he can turn into puppets, and killing the weaker ones so they can’t band together and stop him.” He stares out at all of the egos. “You guys are the strongest figments around. Anti will come after you, and you have to be ready to face him. If you can’t stop him then nobody can.” He sighs, resigned. “I’m not strong enough to stop him, especially not when he has my brothers to use against me. I won’t hurt them. I can’t. They’ll defeat me and Anti will make me a puppet just like the rest of them. It has to be you.”

“Oh, we’ll stop him alright,” Wilford growls, eyes bright pink. “We’ll rip him to shreds.”

Jackie grins, bitter.

“Good.” His grin falls. “That’s all I have. I hope it was helpful, at least.”

“Very,” Wilford says with a nod.

“I’m so sorry, Jackie,” Silver says, quiet and somber. He’s probably crying under his mask. “We’ll stop him, and you’ll get your brothers back.”

Jackie smiles, sad and tired but genuine. His eyes shine with tears.

“Thanks, Silver,” Jackie whispers, as though suddenly too choked up to speak any louder. “Good luck, all of you.” His smile shakes and falls. “You’re going to need it.”

The call ends.

The TV screen goes black again.

“New rule,” Wilford says, eyes still pink with rage, “No one leaves this building. If Anti’s coming we absolutely cannot risk anyone getting hurt out there. We stay here and stay alert. The Googles–” He nods to them, “–will be monitoring the city through cameras, looking for any sign of Anti. If any of you see something, me or Host has to know.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “We still don’t have all the answers, but that doesn’t matter anymore. What’s important is stopping Anti. You’re all dismissed.”

The room bursts into flurries of muttering as the egos talk amongst themselves, but quietly, still in shock. Wilford storms away with Host following behind, leaving Dr. Iplier sitting in his chair with Yandere still in his lap.

“Did Anti just take me for fun?” Yandere whimpers. “Did he kidnap me and torture me just because he felt like it?? Was it just – just fucking set dressing for his actual plan!?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dr. Iplier murmurs, stroking his hair.

“I know why Anti took him, I know everything,” he can’t stop himself from thinking.

Dr. Iplier’s phone buzzes. He’s surprised, but he gets it out of his pocket – a feat with Yandere still in his lap – in case it’s important. And it must be, because it’s Jackie’s name that pops up on Dr. Iplier’s screen. He’s had Jackie’s number for a while, in case something happened to Silver while the pair were working together. He opens the message:

You know something they don’t. Whatever it is, you have to tell them. It could help them stop Anti, and even if it doesn’t, they deserve to know the truth.

Dr. Iplier’s heart sinks, because Jackie’s right. Knowing the truth may not help them fight Anti; knowing how Anti got Dark’s aura doesn’t matter for that. But it still matters to the egos. It matters to Yandere, to his recovery. It matters to Host, to the blind spot – in every sense of the phrase – in his visions. It matters to anyone who cares about either of them, anyone who fears being taken in the night and puppeted next. After all the secrecy and hiding, all the paranoia and guilt, it seems inevitable that Dr. Iplier would end up here.

“The question is, will you admit to what you’ve done, or will you hide the truth like a coward?” Anti had asked.

Dr. Iplier cannot be a coward any longer.

But it still takes him a few hours to gather up the strength to go to Wilford, to tell him that he has something important to say.

“Well, go ahead,” Wilford says.

“It…it has to be a meeting,” Dr. Iplier answers, voice shaking. “Everyone has to know.”

It must be the look on Dr. Iplier’s face, or the way he’s carrying himself, or something else about him that makes Wilford nod and send out the notification instead of scoffing at the idea of two meetings in a single day. Ordinarily that’d be strange, but nothing is strange anymore.

Well, not nothing.

The meeting room fills up, again. Wilford sits at the head, again. But Dr. Iplier doesn’t take up his usual seat between Yandere and Host. Instead, he stands at the end, and the other egos are bewildered by it. Dr. Iplier tries not to meet anyone’s eyes, but he can’t help but glance at his loved ones. Yandere is utterly confused, and Host is surprised not to sense Dr. Iplier beside him. Dr. Iplier’s heart is pounding harder than it ever has, he struggles not to hyperventilate. He has to stay in control. He has to turn on his doctor side. He has to be clinical, he has to speak simply, he cannot let emotion get in the way of this.

“We’re here again,” Wilford begins, addressing the room’s obvious question, “Because Doc has something we need to know.” He gestures to him.

Every eye in the room zeroes in on Dr. Iplier.

“Okay,” Dr. Iplier says, trying to keep his voice steady, “I just want to ask before I start that…that no one say anything until I’m done. Alright?”

Wilford shrugs.

“Sure,” he says. Some other egos nod, all continue to stare. Yandere and Host’s brows furrow.

It’s now or never.

Dr. Iplier takes a deep breath and begins.

“I should start from the beginning,” he says, quiet and slow. “A couple weeks after Yandere disappeared, Anti…Anti snuck into the clinic and grabbed me.” The others gasp. Dr. Iplier continues. “He teleported me to his cabin, the place where he was keeping Yan.” Dr. Iplier closes his eyes, remembering. “He showed Yan to me, but he put so much static in Yan’s head that he didn’t register anything around him, except for Anti’s voice. He told me how he could get into Ego Inc. just enough to condition Yandere, and during that storm, he came into the building through a lightning bolt and took Yan away. Anti taunted me, and told me everything. He showed me the same potion Yan saw, told me how he stole it from Marvin, told me how he planned to kill Dark and take his aura with it, and…and…” Dr. Iplier takes in a shaky breath. He can’t go back from this. He opens his eyes, but looks down at the table, unable to look the others in the eye. “And how he wanted me to be the one to use it.”

The room gasps again, and some start to murmur, until Wilford smacks a hand on the table to silence them. Dr. Iplier looks at him, avoiding the gaze of the others. Wilford gestures for him to continue. His expression is dangerous. Dr. Iplier shivers and directs his eyes to the table once more.

“He knew he only had one chance to give Dark the potion,” Dr. Iplier explains, “And Yandere was his means to that end. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sneak up on Dark. At first he thought he could make Yandere do it, but it seemed too risky. He knew no amount of brainwashing or possession could make Yandere hurt Dark, and he doubted he’d be able to hide Yandere’s brainwashing if he sent him back to us. So instead, he used Yan to get to me.” He tightens his fists against his sides, one beat, then relaxes. His hands start shaking. “He told me to take the potion and use it on Dark when I got an opportunity. If I refused, he’d kill Yan, as many times as it took for him to fade. If I told anyone, he’d do the same. If I got an opportunity and hesitated, he’d come and kill Dark himself, and then he’d kill Yan. But if I did it, he’d give Yan back. So he sent me back with the potion. For another two weeks I tried to think of a way out. I…I reasoned that Anti didn’t know for sure what the potion would do, he’d admitted that. I thought maybe it wouldn’t do what he wanted it to do to Dark. And that even if it worked, Anti could never take something as powerful as Dark’s aura for himself. And I didn’t–” His breath hitches, he struggles not to sob. “–I didn’t want to lose Yandere. I couldn’t forgive myself if I let him die. And I knew that even if we somehow managed to find that cabin and get him back, we wouldn’t be able to do it before Anti killed him, and we might’ve lost him forever.” Dr. Iplier shudders, tries to look up but can’t. “So I did it. After Dark got hurt in that fight with Infelix, I…I…injected him with the potion.”

The room gasps a third time, people start to shout, and this time, Wilford fires a round into the ceiling to quiet them. Dr. Iplier dares not look at him.

“It split him apart into Damien, Celine, the DA’s body, and his aura,” Dr. Iplier continues, remembering how Dark fell apart in front of him. “After it happened, Anti came with Yandere. He kept his promise, he released his control of him. Dark’s aura went right to him, he didn’t even have to take it by force. He said…” Dr. Iplier struggles to keep speaking. “He said I didn’t have to keep anything a secret anymore. That it didn’t matter now that he had what he wanted. But when Host came in I just…I froze. I couldn’t admit it. I thought, I feared, but I hoped he’d find out the whole thing by narrating, but he didn’t. And I just couldn’t make myself tell the truth. Not then, not after, not until now. Jackie took one look at me today and figured out I was lying. He didn’t know what I did, but he knew I was hiding something. He texted me after he signed off, he told me you all needed to know. And he’s right. You have to know. All of you. I’m sorry.” He still cannot lift his head, still cannot face what he’s done. Tears start falling, hitting the table one at a time. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

There’s a long beat of silence.

Then the room explodes.

Shouting, crying, screaming out, chairs tossed back, hands slammed on the table. Dr. Iplier finally, finally forces his gaze up to see chaos. Half the egos are arguing with each other, the other half are yelling at Dr. Iplier, all of them talking over each other.

“Dr. Iplier, why on earth did you–”

“You heard him, it was to protect Yandere!”

“But he killed Dark!”

“If it were my kid, I woulda done the same!”

“Letting Yandere die would have been regrettable; however, letting Dark die is already causing much more harm.”

“He should’ve told us, maybe we could’ve found Yandere!”

“Anti would have known, he would’ve killed him!”

“Would that have been any worse than this?”

“He killed one of us! How are we supposed to trust him now!?”

Their arguments go in circles, and they soon get too caught up in them to yell at Dr. Iplier anymore. Every ego is a part of it, even Eric and Oliver are raising their voices with the others, even the Jims are arguing furiously; CJ’s wide, angry signing just as volatile as his brother’s shouting. But Dr. Iplier can’t focus on any of them, there’s other people whose reactions matter more to him.

Wilford has his head buried in his hands, and Dr. Iplier can’t tell if he’s heaving with sobs or if he’s struggling not to completely lose his temper. Damien is making his way through the crowd to help him, his own face white, now that he knows for sure what happened in that blank spot of Dark’s memory, now that he knows what was happening right under Dark’s nose. Host is sitting ramrod straight in his chair, mouth open in shock, staring straight ahead of himself across the table, bandages darkening with blood, hands curled in tight fists. Worst of all, though, is Yandere, sitting hunched in his seat, staring into the middle distance, confused tears spilling down his cheeks, eyes redder than his hair. After a few moments, Dr. Iplier and Yandere’s eyes meet, and Yandere’s expression twists. He gets up and storms out of the room. Dr. Iplier follows him without a second thought, pushing through the crowd to the doorway. Most are so absorbed in their arguments that they barely notice.

“Yan!” he calls, making his way to the hall. “Yan, please!” He sees Yandere stop where he is, still facing away. Dr. Iplier runs to him, gasping with exertion or emotion or both. “Yan please, just hear–”

Yandere turns around and punches Dr. Iplier across the face in one smooth motion. Dr. Iplier is suddenly staring at the floor, struggling to stay upright. His jaw rattles with the force. His mouth fills with pain and something else. He spits a glob of blood and a tooth onto the floor.

“Yan,” he gasps.

“How could you??” Yandere cries, voice strained with tears. “You killed Yami! You killed my senpai! This whole time you held me and comforted me and you were the one who took him from me!!”

“I’m sorry I lied,” Dr. Iplier whispers, still in shock. His jaw throbs with pain, his chest throbs with hurt. “I’m so sorry I lied to you. And I’m sorry for what I did to Dark, you don’t know how sorry I am.”

“You’re still fucking lying!” Yandere screams, “If you were really fucking sorry you wouldn’t have killed him!!”

“I had no choice, don’t you see that!?” Dr. Iplier sobs, “If I didn’t do what Anti wanted he would’ve killed you!!”

“Then you should’ve let him!!” Yandere howls. “I’d rather be dead than live without Yami! How could you do this to me??”

“Son, please–” Dr. Iplier murmurs, aching, reaching out to wipe away Yandere’s tears.

“Stop,” Yandere chokes out, stepping back, away from Dr. Iplier’s hand, “Don’t say that now, just – not now, not now.” He turns and runs, crying the whole way down the hall.

Dr. Iplier stays rooted where he is, frozen, mouth open as every unsaid word congeals in his throat, burning as keen as his jaw. His heart was already broken after days of missing Yandere, days of watching him wake with nightmares, days of holding him as he cried, days of watching Yandere in pain, but now it’s positively shattered watching his – his – well, his nothing anymore, right? – run away from him.

As he stands there, two people – Chrome and Yancy – brush past him, running down the hall after Yandere to comfort him. They don’t give Dr. Iplier so much as a backwards glance. He has nothing left to do but turn and go back to the conference room, trudging through the doors. He can barely feel the tears still running down his face, his neck, off the end of his chin onto the door handle.

The room is still just as chaotic, but the chaos has shifted. On one side of the table, Wilford is storming up and down the length of it, one hand waving his gun in the air, the other buried in his hair, tight, almost pulling. His eyes are wild and pink, his face is stretched in an unnatural grin as he mutters to himself. Damien and Bim are following him as he goes, trying to talk to him, and the Jims are following Bim, watching silently with owlish eyes, unsure of what to do other than hold tight to each other’s hand. On the other side of the table, most of the other egos are giving Wilford a wide berth and gathered around something…someone else.

Dr. Iplier approaches to see The Host, and the pieces of his heart lurch in his chest. Host is curled over himself, hands tangled in his hair. Blood soaks through his bandages, runs down his cheek, dampens the front of his trench coat, puddles on the table, drips onto the floor. He’s already gone pale. He’s muttering so low and so fast that he’s impossible to understand, and he seems unable to stop.

“The blocks in his visions are gone,” Dr. Iplier realizes, “He can see all the futures he couldn’t before.”

Host mutters and mutters until his words catch and he coughs, pulling his hands out of his hair to brace against the table. The puddle on the table sloshes into his hands, into the cuffs of his trench coat, off the table and onto his pants, but Host doesn’t seem to notice. When the cough leaves him, he bows his head, trembling, panting. His teeth are red. When he speaks again, he’s finally audible, voice dark with premonition.

“The egos have hundreds of futures laid ahead of them now,” Host gasps, “All are suffering. Many are death. Reality is flayed open, no one is safe.”

He lifts his head and, even without eyes, stares straight at Dr. Iplier through the crowd of egos.

“Nothing will ever be the same.”

#dr. iplier #yandereplier #wilford warfstache #jackieboy man #markiplier fanfiction #markiplier #kristin says stuff #my writing #unravel #oof

3 notes · View notes

chyteawrites · 6 years ago

Text

Torn: Chapter 9

Story Summary: You start work as a make-up artist for The Umbrella Academy and meet two of the most handsome people you’ve ever worked with, both of them vying for your attention.

Chapter Summary: You tell David about something from your past and he comforts you.

Chapter 9/?

Word Count: 1,273

Pairing: David Castañeda x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of adultery, dirty talk

Tags: @superapplepie @diianawonka @spacearttraveler @ynm1505 @stardust181 @loulouloueh @reblogserpent @karlitabi-rrito @wh3n-1t-ra1ns-1t-p0urs @berrygutz @dawnson-hargreeves

I walked to set the next morning with David’s shirt wrapped in my coat, my body shaking in the cold Toronto winter wind. I walked into the trailer to find David waiting for me at my station.

“Hey.” I murmured and walked past him. I set his shirt down and grabbed mine, stuffing it in my bag.

“Talk to me, please?” David whispered as he stood behind me.

“I can’t. Not right now. And you said yesterday that I didn’t have to talk about it until I was ready.” I told him and walked away, avoiding his eyes.

“I did say that. But I’ve got a feeling that you want to tell me whatever’s wrong. And I want to know if there is anything I can do to help.” He said and faced me.

“If you can turn men from cheating whores to faithful, loving men, then by all means, please do.” I mumbled and put my brushes away.

“Who are you talking about?” He asked, resting his hands on my arms.

“My ex-fiancé.” I whispered. I took a deep breath, my eyes cast downward as I spoke those words aloud.

“You were engaged?” He asked, his voice overcome with surprise.

“I was. For a year. And then he cheated on me with an actress at the theater I was working at.” I said and sat down, hanging my head. “I really did love him.” I added through choked sobs.

“Then why’d you say the t-shirt was the last thing you have?” David asked, squatting beside me. “What about your ring?”

“It didn’t mean as much as the shirt did. There was one night after I finished a run of shows. We drove all night to a lake. Midnight picnic, that kind of thing.” I started; my breathing hitched. “We went skinny dipping and something happened to my shirt. He played ‘Hero’ and that’s the first night he said I love you.” I explained and broke down crying.

“That’s why you said it was hard to listen to that song before yesterday.” He sighed and grabbed my hand. “Mi carina. Don’t cry. Shhh.” He added and stood up, pulling me against his chest. I leaned into him and bawled, his hand rubbing gently over my back.

He must have held me for twenty minutes at least as I cried. The tears streaming down my face were somehow a mix of hurt and relief. Only Rachel and Emmy had known the real reason we broke the engagement. It felt nice to finally tell a man I had genuine feelings for about it. I finally wiped my tears and looked up at him with a nervous smile.

“I’m so sorry to lose my cool like that. You didn’t sign up for this.” I murmured and looked down. I felt fingers slip under my chin and lift my head, his soft brown eyes meeting mine.

“I also didn’t sign up for meeting one of the most amazing women I’ve ever met. Yet, here I am. Looking down at her. Don’t apologize for being open and vulnerable with me. That’s kind of an important part of relationships.” David said with a sweet smile.

“Even after finding out I was engaged and I’m still holding on to the one thing I haven’t had the courage to let go of, you still want to be with me?” I asked quietly.

“Of course. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to be with you. Or wanting you.” He whispered and kissed me softly.

“I’m still sorry about breaking down like that.” I mumbled against his lips.

“What did I tell you about apologizing for things like that? You never need to apologize unless you hurt me. Don’t make me get upset with you.” He chuckled and held my chin.

“And what would happen to me if you got upset?” I asked and bit my lip.

“Depends on what you’ve done to upset me. I’ll either ignore you until I’ve calmed down. Or…” He purred and pulled me close, my body pressing against his.

“Or what?” I whispered.

“Or I’ll guess that you’re doing it on purpose for attention. So, I’ll give you the attention you must want and need.” He said in a low growl and grabbed my ass. I kissed him as my arms wrapped around his neck, catching his lip between my teeth.

“If you keep kissing me like that, I’m gonna have to steal you for the rest of the day.” I crooned.

“Oh yeah? And what would be happening if I let you do that?” He asked with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

“A lot of this.” I whispered and kissed him. “Maybe some of this.” I added, sliding my hands under his shirt and kissing his neck.

“Behave yourself. You’re at work.” David breathed heavily.

“Or what?” I purred, dragging my nails down his chest.

“Fuck. Knock it off. I’ll see you later.” He growled and smacked my ass gently. I let out a surprised yelp and bit my lip, looking up at him. He looked down with a smirk and grabbed my waist, kissing my forehead.

“Who says I need to behave?” I quipped.

“I do, mi carina. Behave.” He whispered, kissing me again.

“And if I don’t?” I asked and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Then when we’re done for the day, I’ll have to take you back to your place and make sure Rachel isn’t there while I give you a few good spanks.” He crooned and patted my ass.

“Didn’t you just threaten to spank me?” I asked and bit my lip nervously.

“Mmhmm. So behave.” David whispered and walked away with a wink. I stood stock still, my mouth hanging open as I watched him walk out, Justin walking in.

“And that’s how you catch flies.” Justin laughed before kissing my cheek gently.

“Oh. My. God.” I mumbled, walking over to my station as he sat down.

“What? Is something wrong between you and David? Do you need to vent?” He asked and looked up at me.

“What? Oh, no. Not at all.” I replied and smiled as I did his makeup.

“Then why the exaggerated ‘oh my god’?” He asked again.

“David just said something sexy. So fucking sexy.” I sighed, working his foundation in.

“Oh really? Do tell.” He coaxed and smiled.

“Not a chance in hell.” I chuckled as David walked past, his eyes focused on me.

“Oh, c’mon.” He whispered and smiled. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” He added with a sly smile.

“No. I’m supposed to be behaving myself.” I whispered and winked at him as I finished his hair.

“Oh, it’s that kind of sexy.” He gasped and laughed. “Well, don’t let me ruin that.” He smirked before walking out and leaving me alone in the trailer. I’d thought about everything that happened and smiled as I sang to myself.

After filming had wrapped for lunch, David ran into the makeup trailer and kissed me, his hands pulling at my waist. I let out a gasp as he let go of me, his forehead pressed to mine. His breath tangled with mine as he kissed me again before leading me away to a secluded area.

“What’s gotten into you?” I muttered as my body pressed between his and a wall.

“You. Our conversation earlier has had me worked up for hours.” He whispered and kissed my neck.

“Let’s at least go back to my place so we can have more privacy.” I panted. I grabbed his hand and lead him away, catching a glimpse of Robbie, Rachel, Emmy, and Justin watching us.

#chynna writes #torn #torn chapter 9 #torn: chapter 9 #david castañeda #david castañeda x reader #david castañeda fanfiction #david castañeda fanfic #david castenada #david castaneda x reader #david castaneda fanfiction #david castaneda fanfic

41 notes · View notes

crazedlunatic · 6 years ago

Text

Bob’s Concussion

I don’t know why I even wrote this.... I think I just like to make people suffer? Or, really, maybe to just torture Blaine? Oh well.

“Why are the police in Bob’s office? Where is Bob?” Blaine demanded.

“Calm down.” Jake said in a firm voice.

“No. What happened? Where is he? When I left you said you didn’t know where he is and now the police are in his office and I know that you’re trying to not tell me but I need to know.”

“Blaine, I can’t talk about this right now. The police keep coming up to me and asking questions.”

“Then take a lunch!” Blaine exclaimed, loud enough for a police officer in the hallway to look up to see what was going on.

“Go and help Brian. I will come and get you when they leave.” Jake said.

“No. I don’t want to help Brian. What happened?”

“Please don’t tear up, Blaine. Oh my God.” Jake said, looking over at the police officers who didn’t look like they needed anything.

“Is he dead?” Tears filled Blaine’s eyes.

“No. No, no, no.” Ryan came up behind Blaine and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Don’t cry. He’s not dead. He’s going to be fine, Blaine.”

“What happened? Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine. Listen… just go and help Brian. When they clear out, we’ll talk.” Ryan said calmly. “He’s going to be fine.”

“Going to be?” Blaine asked sharply. “What does that mean?”

“Ryan, maybe we should just—” Jake began.

“He didn’t want Blaine to know.”

“Well he’s being an idiot if he thinks an investigation is going on here and that Blaine’s not going to assume something happened to him.”

“What’s going on? Quit talking to each other and talk to me!” Blaine was trying very hard to not cry.

Something had happened and nobody was telling him what. Which meant it might have been really bad.

“Are you taking him or am I?” Jake sighed.

“I will.” Ryan tossed a keychain to him. “In case they need in the locked drawers.”

“No one can go in those!” Blaine exclaimed, looking between the two of them like they were crazy.

“Blaine, they’re going to have to go through them.”

“But why?!”

We’ll be back.” Ryan told Jake and led Blaine out of his office. “Calm down. Bob doesn’t want anyone to know.”

“What happened?” Blaine asked, getting into Ryan’s car.

Ryan turned the heat on and looked at Blaine. “He was in a really bad car wreck last night.”

“Oh my God… but why are the police here?”

“Because he was hit head on and then they came back and slammed the car into a building… twice.” Ryan said gently. “It definitely wasn’t an accident.”

“Someone did it on purpose?” Blaine asked, eyes wide.

“Bob’s put a lot of people in prison, Blaine. Usually for really bad things. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened.”

“Where is he? Jake said Bob didn’t want me to know so he’s alive. Right?”

“Yes, he’s alive, Blaine.” Ryan sighed.

“Can I go see him?”

“He’ll probably be in the hospital for a few days.” Ryan looked at him.

“He’s… in the hospital? Am I the only one that didn’t know he was in the hospital?!”

“No. Jake and Brian know. Tammy Jo is already on her way to the firm from Cambridge.” Ryan took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. “Listen, he won’t be home for a few days. He’s in a lot of pain and he hit his head on the dashboard at least twice… the last two times the car hit him. He has a grade 4 concussion and he’s not doing very well. He doesn’t want you to worry. He asked me to not let you know what happened.”

“You saw him?”

“Yeah. Sarah called me last night and I went to the hospital. The police are involved and they’re going through his biggest cases to try to find out who may have been released recently or anything that sticks out... but like I said, he’s not doing very well and isn’t really much help to the police right now. I saw him this morning too and he wasn’t doing any better.”

“What do you mean he’s not doing well?”

“He’s having trouble recalling words. He’s nauseous so he’s vomiting any time he moves too fast. He’s really sensitive to noise and light and he’s having a hard time seeing because everything is blurry. He’s not doing good, Blaine.”

“I don’t care. I want to go be with him. I’ll just sit there. I won’t even talk… I will just sit there.” Blaine took a deep breath.

Ryan watched Blaine.

“You… you don’t understand. He’s like my dad and he stayed by my side for three weeks when I got appendicitis. And when I got in my car wreck. He—"

“Blaine… he specifically said to not let you go.”

“Someone should be with Sarah.”

“Brady is there with her. Charlie has Miles, Sam, and Emily.”

“Are you busy? Can we go?” Blaine looked Ryan in the eyes.

“I can’t take you, Blaine. He doesn’t want you to see him like this, okay?” Ryan watched him. “I know that you two are super close and he’s like a dad to you. I understand that you are really worried and I am too… He doesn’t want you to see him like this. He specifically said to not let you know what happened.”

“I will go by myself. I’ll try all of the hospitals in the city until I find the right one if you don’t take me or tell me what hospital he is at.” Blaine threatened, pulling his own car keys out of his pocket. “I’ll call Charlie and if he doesn’t answer I’ll try Mallory. I will call until someone tells me because this isn’t right. You need to tell me where he is!”

“We’ll go.” Ryan said gently after several seconds passed. “But he looks really bad and he’s in a lot of pain. Like I said, light and noises hurt. He can’t see very well and he’s having a hard time remembering words and he’s pretty much throwing up a lot.”

“I don’t care. I want to be with him. I want to see him. I don’t even have to talk.”

…

“Blaine.”

“I told you to let me call him, Robbie. You knew he was going to find out.” Sarah sighed, standing up and going to hug Blaine. She had been sitting on the edge of the bed next to Bob. “Hey, honey.”

“Hey.” Blaine frowned and went to a chair on the other side of the bed. The lights in the room were off but they could see well even with the blinds pulled.

“I didn’t want you to come.” Bob said, voice much quieter than usual.

“I don’t care.” Blaine took a deep breath.

“I’m going to have a rough couple of weeks but I’ll be fine.” Bob said as Ryan sat next to Blaine.

“He went straight to Jake who is already freaking out enough without Blaine freaking out at him. The police are tearing your office apart.” Ryan sighed. “I figured it would be better for me to tell him than making them both more nervous. How do you feel?”

“Like shit. They make me sleep but then wake me up doing whatever it is they’re doing. I can’t even stand up by myself. I’ve probably puked out half of my body weight.” Bob sighed and winced a bit. “It also hurts to move which is kind of unrelated to the concussion. Everything is so loud.”

Ryan stared at him, not knowing what to say.

“I’m fine.” Bob winced when a nurse came in.

“I’m sure you are which is why you’re cringing when you see light, right?” She asked sweetly, writing numbers down off a computer screen by Bob’s bed. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“A way out of here?” Bob asked.

“Sorry. Maybe next time I come check on you.”

“You’ve said that every time.” Bob groaned.

“Yet you still keep asking.” She smiled.

“You’re giving her a hard time, Robbie.” Sarah sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed again—the side the nurse wasn’t on, of course.

“Oh, this is downright pleasant compared to some of the men I get. He’s doing a lot better than most of the people with a severe concussion.” The nurse reassured her. “And he isn’t handsy making him my favorite patient so far for today.”

“It’s still early. There’s time for that to change.” Sarah joked. “He gets pretty grumpy when he’s not feeling good.”

Bob sat up suddenly. As if on cue, the nurse handed him a large bowl.

Sarah got up again, bending and rubbing his back. “You’re okay.”

When he was done he didn’t lay back down but leaned sideways against Sarah.

“Thank you.” Sarah said when the nurse brought him a new bowl for the next time.

“No problem. Let me know if you need me.” The nurse smiled.

Bob nodded as she walked out. He then said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You have a concussion.” Ryan said. “Can we get you anything?”

Bob shook his head as Sarah sat back on the edge of the bed and then rested his head against her chest. Blaine had a feeling she’d been on and off the edge of the bed the whole time she’d been here.

“No. Go on back. I’m fine.” Bob said after several more seconds when it became evident Ryan wasn’t going to leave.

“Are you sure? Can I bring something after work?”

“I’m fine, Ryan.” Bob sighed.

“Okay… Blaine, you’re not leaving, are you?”

“No,” Blaine said at the same time as Bob said, “Yes.”

“Let him stay.” Sarah whispered.

Bob nodded— mostly because he didn’t have the energy to argue with a hysterical Blaine Anderson-Hummel.

Ryan stood. “Please let me know if I can bring you all anything.”

“Thanks.” Bob’s voice slurred a bit.

“I’ll text you.” Sarah promised.

“Blaine, let me know if you need a ride home or back to your car.” Ryan squeezed Blaine’s shoulder and left.

“Okay, you need to lay back down.” Sarah said, coaxing him back down against the pillows. “You’re starting to slur again.”

“Don’t leave me.” Bob said somewhat pitifully.

Blaine felt literal daggers go through his heart and suddenly wanted to bawl. Because this wasn’t Bob at all. He couldn’t even imagine how bad he must feel to act that way and then ask Sarah to not leave him. It just wasn’t Bob.

“I’m not going anywhere, silly.” Sarah rubbed his shoulder until he fell asleep and then held his hand.

“I’m… uhm…” Blaine said.

“It’s okay, sweetie.” Sarah said gently.

“He doesn’t seem like he is.” Blaine swallowed hard.

“He will be okay. He’ll just be out of sorts for a while.” Sarah smiled at him sadly. “He’ll probably start to feel better in a couple of days.”

“Start to feel better? Days?” Blaine echoed.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t the first time he’s been in the hospital because of work. It’s not even actually the worst… but he takes the bad cases and that means… bad guys.” Sarah sighed a bit. “That’s what he says at least.”

“How many times has he been in the hospital?”

“This is seven or eight. The second one was the worst though when he was 28. He was out of work for two and a half months… and honestly, he probably shouldn’t have gone then.”

“He had big cases that young?”

“Yeah, he was starting to get them. I think that was around when Ryan became his intern. I was kind of hoping he would quit after he got hurt the first time but it just pissed him off and made him take more on… you know how he is when he’s pissed.”

Blaine nodded. “Yeah. It makes him work harder.”

Sarah nodded, squeezing Bob’s hand. She then glanced over where their second oldest son, Brady, was fast asleep on a small couch in a corner of the room.

“How is he doing?” Blaine asked, glancing over too.

“He left in the middle of his night class to come to the hospital. He finally laid down an hour ago.” Sarah laughed a bit. “Honestly I think they argue so much because they’re so alike. He acts just like Bob 80% of the time. Neither of them will admit it, though.”

“My best friend Wes argued with his dad a lot for, like, three years but they’re closer now than they were before. That was during undergrad too.” Blaine said. “I know they piss each other off but they won’t do it forever. It’s probably a hard transition for both of them.”

“Yeah. Robbie would do anything for any of them… you too.”

Blaine smiled a bit.

“You know, you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. I know it can be pretty boring.” Sarah said. “He won’t mind.”

“He would stay if it were me.” Blaine said, knowing 100% it was the truth. Bob had stayed with him in the hospital for three days when he’d had his appendix taken out. Three days straight. He had also ‘worked from home’— rather Blaine’s home— for several days until Blaine was cleared to be by himself for prolonged amounts of time. He would still stop by and check on Blaine on his lunches until Blaine was okay enough to go back to work.

“Well… what do you want to watch on TV? Please just no sports.” Sarah asked, smiling.

“I don’t care.” Blaine said, glancing at Bob who was still asleep.

“He’ll be okay.” Sarah reassured him. “This is actually pretty tame. Two times it was a lot worse.”

“If that was supposed to make me feel better… it really didn’t.” Blaine admitted.

“Yeah. It doesn’t make me feel better either.” She sighed. “But he’ll be okay.”

“Do you think he’s mad that I came?”

“No.” Sarah said softly, shaking her head. “He assumed you’d find your way here after the police got to the office.”

“He was right.” Blaine shrugged one shoulder.

“God, don’t let him hear you say that. He gets so smug when someone tells him that he’s right.” Sarah groaned. “Want to turn on the TV but not really pay attention to it?”

“You don’t need anything, do you?” Blaine asked.

“No. I’m good.” She smiled as Brady rolled over onto his other side. “Thanks for keeping me company… since apparently Brady isn’t doing a great job.”

Blaine forced a smile back.

…

“You’re reaching stalker status.”

Blaine pulled up a chair next to Bob’s hospital bed two days later, ignoring his comment. “I brought you Panera if you’re up to eating it… and I brought you a sweet tea too if you can handle that.”

Bob began to push himself up.

Blaine hopped up, helping him. After seeing Bob’s look he said, “Pay back for my appendicitis.”

“Thanks.” Bob leaned against the pillows.

“Do you know what you can and can’t eat?” Blaine asked him.

“Nope.” Bob took the cup and, moving slowly, took a drink. “You are in my top seven people alive right now.”

Blaine forced a smile and put some soup and a small salad in front of him. “Do you feel better than yesterday?”

“It doesn’t hurt as much to think?” Bob sighed and took a bite of his salad. “You know you don’t have to stay here, right?”

“Sarah’s working and Brady’s in school.” Blaine frowned. “You didn’t leave me alone so I’m going to be here as much as I can.”

“Thank you.” Bob said again and pushed the food away.

Blaine grabbed a bowl, putting it under Bob’s head just in time for him to vomit into it.

“Fuck.” Bob moaned before throwing up more.

Blaine swallowed hard because he still didn’t seem like Bob.

Sometimes he did but other times… not at all.

Bob straightened up and looked at Blaine before throwing up again.

“It’s okay.” Blaine said, not sure what else to do but hold the bowl and be there.

“S’not okay.” Bob slurred a bit, finally sitting up and then leaning back against his pillows.

“Do you want to lay down?” Blaine asked, keeping his voice as quiet as he could. He reached back, setting the bowl on a chair and then leaned over.

“Yeah.”

Blaine slowly helped him move down and then straightened his blanket.

“m’fine.” Bob blinked at him.

“Are you?” Blaine asked, moving Bob’s sweet tea and opening up a bottle of water—because Bob only drank one kind. Which, honestly, Blaine understood.

“I’d be better if I quit moving and talking.” Bob took the bottle of water and drank, nearly downing the whole thing at once.

Blaine grabbed another one, watching him carefully. “What can I do?”

“Get me out of here?”

At least Bob was talking louder than the last two days, Blaine thought to himself. And talking more too.

“I think you’ll be in here a couple more days.” Blaine sat on the edge of the bed since the rail was down. He kept the bottle of water ready for when Bob needed another—because he had been going through water like crazy.

“Thank you, Blaine.” Bob leaned against Blaine.

“Are you okay?” Blaine whispered after a couple of silent minutes passed.

When Bob didn’t answer he glanced down—Bob had fallen asleep, his head resting on Blaine’s shoulder.

…

“Oh God. You? Please tell me Sarah did not send you to babysit me.” Bob said two weeks later when Blaine came in his front door. He had been laying on the couch trying hard not to think—but then he had to think about not thinking, which just made the whole thing difficult.

“It is your lucky day, mister.” Blaine said, closing the front door.

“Ugh. Just put me out of my misery.”

“Hey, that’s rude. You slept on me for three hours last week.” Blaine pouted a bit. He then added, “And no. It wasn’t Sarah.”

“You are going to get me into trouble with Tammy.”

“How come sometimes you call her Tammy and others Tammy Jo?”

“Because I am lazy and I hate double names.” Bob said.

“I brought you more sweet tea… although I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to have it. Caffeine and all. I Googled it.”

“Watch me not care.” Bob eagerly took it and took a big sip anyway, looking grateful.

“Also, Jake lets his person work from home.”

“She’s a third year lawyer who also has a baby… and technically Jake doesn’t even have the authority to do that.” Bob winced. “He actually doesn’t have authority to do a lot of things but sometimes the help is nice.”

“I’m a sort of-almost third year with two dogs, a Kurt, and twins on the way. Does that count for anything?” Blaine set his laptop and bag down, then came over to the couch. “The twins will be here soon.”

“Yeah. I know.” Bob cringed.

“Are you okay?” Blaine asked worriedly.

“If you get worked up every time I make a noise or face, you’re going to be exhausted by the time Sarah gets home. Concussions this bad are painful. I’ll survive.”

“But are you okay?” Blaine repeated.

“I’m fine… but kind of dizzy.” Bob said. “And nauseous. I’ll tell you if I’m not okay.”

“That doesn’t sound okay.”

“Can you close the blinds and the curtains?” Bob asked pitifully.

“Of course.” Blaine nodded and went around, pulling all the blinds and curtains closed.

“Thank you.” Bob said as Blaine came back over.

“Sure. Anything else you need turned off or closed or anything?” Blaine looked around the room, surveying it himself.

As if on cue, one of Bob’s cell phones started to ring on the coffee table. Bob winced as Blaine answered it, going into the other room.

Several minutes later, Blaine came back in. He grabbed Bob’s other phone and put it on silent.

“What was it?” Bob asked.

“Nothing.”

“You were gone too long for it to have been nothing.” Bob gave him a look.

“Don’t worry about it.” Blaine said. “Do you want some water? Your tea is empty.”

“Yes.” Bob said, slowly sitting up and then leaning against the back of the couch. Not even a minute later, he threw up into his trashcan.

Blaine rushed in with the glass of water. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Blaine.”

“Drink this.” Blaine pushed the glass of water into his hands and then took the bag out of the trashcan.

“Stop. I can get that. I’m not helpless and I can walk.” Bob said. He then added, “I’ll probably throw up again in ten minutes anyway.”

“And then I’ll take the next bag out to the trash bin too otherwise I’ll be puking too because of the smell.” Blane called from the other room, his voice cheerful. “Charlie told me you got dizzy and almost fell down the stairs last night. That’s why I’m working from home until your symptoms go away or lessen dramatically… and by working from home, I mean working from your home.”

“Are you doing this because of your appendix?” Bob gave him a look.

“No.” Blaine shook his head. “I’m doing it because everybody else has to work and I have no trials this week. I’m all yours this week.”

“Oh my God.” Bob groaned, slowly moving himself back into a laying position. “That’s terrifying. At least at CMJ there’s a wall between us.”

Blaine gave him a bright smile. “At least it’s not your new favorite intern.”

Bob shot Blaine a very annoyed look.

“He’s not bad… and he doesn’t even complain about you anymore when you act like an asshole.”

“You do know I’m still your boss, right?” Bob looked amused.

“Technicalities.” Blaine shrugged, smiling. “Plus we’re not at work and you know I love you anyway.”

“You’re something else.”

“Thanks… I think.”

Bob nodded and then said, “I really need to quit doing that.”

“What did the doctor say yesterday before they let you leave the hospital?” Blaine asked, sitting on the floor in front of the couch.

“Blaine, this is a couch. I promise I won’t kick you.” Bob looked at Blaine like he was crazy.

“Fine.” Blaine got up and sat at the other end. It was a pretty big couch so he was able to sit Indian style with his back to the armrest, still not touching Bob. He was able to watch Bob but far enough that maybe it would not be quite as obvious. “What did the doctor say?”

“I can’t go back to work until this all quits.”

“Obviously. I mean about it still happening. Is it still blurry sometimes?”

“Yes.” Bob nodded. “Apparently it can happen for months. I can’t go back to work until it stops completely.”

Blaine frowned.

“The dizzy and nauseous part at least… and the seeing fuzzy sometimes… and—”

“You’re going to make your head hurt more by talking.” Blaine interrupted.

“Did Sarah ask you to stay over here?”

“Not exactly. She just let me in.”

“Tammy Jo? Oh my God. What is with these women?” Bob groaned and then winced.

“Well actually it was Jake but Tammy Jo definitely agreed it was a good idea… I think seeing you in the hospital really upset her the day before yesterday.” Blaine hesitated.

“It’s a good thing she didn’t see me earlier in the week if she thought that was bad.” Bob sighed.

“Sarah was really happy about it too. I think she was worried about you being home alone already.”

“That’s even worse.” Bob groaned. “Jake thinks I need a babysitter and Tammy Jo agreed.”

“We’re all worried and I happen to be the least busy one at the moment since I stopped taking cases for the end of October and all of November.” Blaine said.

Bob sighed and frowned.

“I won my case yesterday.” Blaine said after a few minutes of silence—not the uncomfortable kind, either. Sitting without talking used to make Blaine super anxious but he’d gotten used to the fact that sometimes Bob was just… quiet.

“Good job.” Bob gave him a smile, although Blaine knew it was forced. “You’ll catch up with me soon.”

“Pfft. Never.” Blaine made a face.

“You’re doing really well, Blaine.” Bob moved to push himself up.

Blaine picked up the small garbage can, holding it under Bob’s head. Like clockwork, Bob threw up again.

“I’ve got to quit moving so fast.” Bob groaned.

“I’ll be right back.” Blaine took the bag out and returned with a bottle of water for Bob. “For when you need it.”

“Thank you, Blaine.” Bob moved to sit up straight.

“The doctor said you should rest.” Blaine gave him a look and took his spot back on the couch.

“You and Charlie.” Bob sighed but still pushed himself into a sitting position. “Don’t worry. I’m not getting up.”

Blaine, who in fact had been worrying, relaxed against the arm of the couch.

“I can’t believe you and Kurt have been married for 6 weeks.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to rest?” Blaine tilted his head.

“I am resting.” Bob said. “I’m so happy for you two, you know? Your wedding was beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Blaine smiled. “It was perfect. And your toast was so sweet. It meant a lot to me—a lot to both of us. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. How are the twins doing?”

“Still cozy and growing.” Blaine bent down and pulled two new ultrasound pictures out of his bag.

“Every time you show me one, they’ve grown so much.” Bob looked at them.

“I hope you feel better by then. I really want you to see them when they’re born.” Blaine frowned a bit.

“Oh, I’ll be there. Don’t even worry about that.” Bob slurred the last two words and then looked up at the ceiling. “Goddamnit.”

“There’s the Bob I know and love.” Blaine said, moving to help Bob back into a laying position. “If you puke on me, I’m buying Miles a toddler drum set.”

“Is there a receipt I can use to return you? You’re obviously defective.” Bob scoffed.

“Maybe Emily would like a karaoke machine?”

“Is it five, yet?”

“It’s only 9:30 in the morning.”

Bob pulled a couch pillow over his head as Blaine laughed.

…

“Oh God. Who gave you a key?” Bob groaned a week later, blinking and squinting a bit—not as bad as he had been before, though.

“You did when Kurt and I moved in down the street.” Blaine said. “I actually like working from your home a lot because you’re across the street and four houses down. I don’t have to drive in horrible traffic to get here and I get free food… I also don’t have to get dressed for work which saves on dry cleaning bills.”

“Mmmh I’m going to need that key back.” Bob joked. “You’re abusing the privilege.”

“Sorry about your luck.” Blaine smiled sweetly.

Bob rolled his eyes and drank some of his orange juice. He then sarcastically asked, “Are you here to make me some breakfast?”

“Ha. No.” Blaine dropped a plastic container in front of him. “Kurt made you some muffins, though.”

“I love Kurt.” Bob said, pulling one out.

“He must like you a bit too since he made you muffins. He only gives me baked goods at holidays.” Blaine laughed. “How are you feeling? You look better than you did Friday when I left.”

“Better but not good.” Bob admitted. “So, are you just going to bring the twins and watch me in a week? Because wailing babies won’t help my head.”

“Apparently she’s already dilated two centimeters.” Blaine said. “It might be less than a week… we really need to finish unpacking.”

“Your sons could be here in less than a week and you still haven’t unpacked everything?” Bob looked amused.

“The boys’ stuff is all good to go.” Blaine took one of the muffins, grinning when Bob shot him a ‘look.’ The look that didn’t even faze him anymore. None of them did, actually. “What? These are really good.”

“I know. That’s why I don’t want to share.” Bob said although he passed Blaine another muffin. “Shit, Blaine. If she is already at 2 cm, you theoretically could have the twins by tomorrow night. It takes some women forever to get to 10 cm but twice Sarah’s went really quick.”

“Aaaah.” Blaine tapped his fingers on the table anxiously. “I know… but with Beth, it took a couple of days… so I guess you’ll have to come to my house when they’re born.”

Bob laughed. “You know I would be fine by myself now, right?”

“Yeah.” Blaine nodded. “But I would have been fine before you went back to work too.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t finished unpacking yet.” Bob shook his head—four days earlier, he would have vomited immediately after.

“You’re, like, four houses down and I haven’t seen you offering help.”

“Yeah. Because I’m on bed rest until the end of my forties.” Bob groaned.

“That’ll be in a couple of days, right?” Blaine grinned. He then said, “We’re mostly unpacked. The stuff that’s left is stuff we could probably throw away but we want to keep.”

“Yeah. I’ve got a hall closet full of that crap.” Bob said and then asked, “Freaking out? Excited? Terrified?”

“Equal parts excited and anxious… I just want to see them and hold them. I mean, their room has been ready for months. I go in it all the time but now it’s… like, right here, you know? Within a week, they’ll be in that crib.”

“You and Kurt are going to be such good parents.”

“I hope so.” Blaine let out a deep breath. “I hope you feel good enough to come see them the day they’re born.”

“Oh, I’ll be there. Don’t worry.” Bob reassured him.

“You shouldn’t drive.” Blaine said.

“Oh, I’ve been up since five. How do you think this orange juice got here?”

“You really are feeling better then.”

“Not great but if I’m well enough to go into that huge store and get stuff, I’m well enough to see the babies. If they get too loud I can always leave and come back when they’re quiet again.” Bob reassured him.

Blaine looked relieved. “I’ve been worried about that. I just really want you to see them that day.”

“Don’t worry.” Bob repeated. “Are Kurt’s parents heading up already?”

“Yeah. They’re flying in tonight. Carole’s going to stay with us for a week after they’re born to help us get settled… I think AJ is going to stay some too.” Blaine said. “Thank God.”

“Give it another week and hopefully I’ll be able to be around the wailing.” Bob said. “Sarah and I would love to help too, you know?”

“Thanks.” Blaine smiled. “We may need the baby whisperer.”

“Any time.” Bob smiled back.

“So… if you’re feeling better… do you want to go and get Chicken Tikka Marsala? I’ll even pay since you had to put up with my stalking since you got hurt.”

“If you’re paying, I’m going.” Bob eagerly stood up. “You know, the next time we do this you’ll probably be a daddy.”

Blaine got an adorable smile on his face. He then asked, “What day is it?”

“October 22nd I think.” Bob grabbed a sweater. “Do you care to drive?”

“Yep.”

“Just don’t get into your fifth wreck this time… I still can’t believe you got in a wreck on the way to your wedding.”

“Then you were the only one surprised.” Blaine laughed, holding the door open for Bob to go through.

#bob bob bob #wbuct drabble #wbuct prompt

10 notes · View notes

mamabearlarusso · 6 years ago

Text

Journal: Getting Back to the Real World...Easier Said Than Done

Well, the morning after I got back from my own personal limbo...things were hitting me pretty hard. Waking up from a dream, hugging my pillow thinking it was him, but only seeing a big lonely bed...it was going to be a long day. I started looking around the kitchen trying to figure what I could make with my trusty bottle of Jack. Then I remembered Ali wanted to catch up and I figured no time like the present...besides, weirdly enough, I missed her. It hadn’t even been 48 hours since I last saw her, but it felt so much longer than that. So much had happened...it was a real roller coaster, and I just needed someone to talk to. Ali was slowly, but surely becoming my person.

After a pretty good spread, a half dozen or more mimosas and a couple slices of wonderful blueberry cheesecake, I had told Ali pretty much all that happened between Johnny and me--including how I felt how about him. Given all their history as a couple--and now as family--I was really glad and surprised when her claws didn’t come out, but gave me a hug instead. She did joke that her younger self was egging her on to do something--which sounded all too familiar given my past--but all went over relatively well. Especially, when I remembered the long awaited Christmas present. I was so glad that she loved it. I was a little nervous when I first picked out, so many months ago. I was worried that it was a little too early, for such a gift...that I was rushing the whole friendship bracelet angle, too much because I hadn’t had that growing up. I kept having to tell myself that it was a symbolic gesture of hope for the future. Though, the fact that so many things got in the way of me actually giving her the present...actually worked in its favor.

The next day...the first day back to work after a long weekend, that started when I decided to make a detour on a Friday morning to check on Johnny...didn’t start off all that bad. I got a text message from a number that I didn’t recognize, but I opened it anyway. It was Shannon. She was trying to get my goat...bringing up Johnny and claiming that she knew I wasn’t enough for him and that I deserved better anyway. Knowing what we had shared for that one day, in that old saloon, kept me on an even keel--for the most part. I didn’t exactly ignore the text...couldn’t let her think she had the last word. Hey, I never said I was perfect.

Once I got to work though, Anoush was...well, he was relieved that I was back. Yeah, let’s say that. Ever since Louie left, anyone Daniel and I tried to replace him with, just didn’t work out. Then, when Daniel up and left me--and I retreated to working from home--and eventually the dealership as well, things didn’t get any better. We were down by two, leaving Anoush to pretty much take over running a lot of the Encino day to day stuff, while I was trying to handle the other locations. I’ve caught up a few times since then. Though, to make sure that I’m there for the kids when they get home from school and know they have their dinner, I've been take early days and coming back after or even during dinnertime. I’ve spent quite a few nights falling asleep at my desk or on the couch in the office. I’ve even kept a few changes of clothes in a drawer with a few essentials...nothing fancy, just some comfy threads to slide into, after waking up and before the drive home...or on the off occasion, when I have to get right back to work the next morning--it doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. I think that night I wore one of my plaid shirts home. Anyway, saying goodnight to Drew on my way out, he grinned like a gentleman--even though he usually teases me for falling asleep.

In the morning after a good rest and some breakfast, I got there and Drew was getting off his shift. He nodded to the flowers waiting on the front desk. “Somebody seems happy about something.” After reading the card, I knew that they were from Johnny...thanking me for tracking him down. I couldn’t help but blush...Drew noticed...I kept thinking about waking up after I fainted and seeing Johnny right there taking care of me, about swaying with him on the dance floor and picking out my angles and watching him pick out his during that game of pool. That day really was one of my best ones in a long time.

While I took my lunch break, I decide on hoping online just to see what was going on in the last few days. I stumbled on a post from Johnny, he was sharing the progress of the bar renovations. I couldn’t stop tears from welling up. It looked great...and I was proud of him, getting all that done...but I wanted to be there with him every step of the way. Helping him making the decisions, figure out the quirks and gimmicks of a place like that, really make it POP! to bring in the customers. But nothing was going to change about the situation. We’d always be where we had to be and not where we wanted to be. So, I had to distance myself, for my own sanity if nothing else. Playing it cool and teasing him, seemed the way to go at the time, but I probably should have just stayed away all together. Robby got upset with Johnny over something and of course I had to say something he didn’t like. I hate that there’s this new bridge between us...after all the others we had to cross. Why can’t he see that I miss him? Yeah, I know I should have called or texted him, even when I couldn’t get away to see him...especially when he was recovering from his hospital stay. That really hurt. I was still trying play catch up at the dealerships from Daniel leaving, when I had spent a whole day and night at the hospital with Rick and Johnny, waiting by Robby’s bedside. That Damn Dutch hurt my boy and I couldn’t even do anything about it. It frickin’ pissed me off. Probably why I let Johnny go after him, without trying to stop him...to reason with him. Seeing him leaving in the hallway and remembering how scared I was while Rick was driving us to go find Robby...I couldn’t have been more scared, more vengeful, if Robby was my own son. (Yeah, and look how well that worked out.) Johnny barely came back from it. Dutch wasn’t alone and he definitely wasn’t ‘playing’ fair.

I keep almost-losing Johnny...now, I’ve lost him in a whole different way. He’s there starting a new life and I’m here living my own. We just don’t fit anymore--not that we really did before, something was always wrong. So, when I got a voicemail from him that night...my heart was in my throat. Should I tempt fate, torture myself with something I know will never be...just to hear his voice again? Hi, my name is Amanda and I have bad impulse control. I laid there on the couch listening to the message a couple times, before calling back. Closing my eyes, it was almost like he was right there with me again. When I called back, I got his voicemail. Yeah, it hurt. I wanted to hear more of his voice...try and see if I could get him to laugh that laugh of his...see if I could hear his smile. But no dice. Instead, it was an awkward one-sided convo with a machine, as I tried to remember what was in his own message. Yup...I tortured myself alright.

Afterwards, I realized...that good or bad, Johnny Lawrence had changed my life. I like to think that I came out for the better, because now, I’m more or less myself again. I have shed my ‘Proper Encino Elite’ costume and let down my hair. I don’t have to have that martini or glass of wine all the time, I’m good with just a beer. Sometimes, I’ll even coax ol’ Jack out of the bottle for the hard times. I blast my rock tunes in the house, in the car and sometimes even in the office. If I feel like wearing my leather jacket to work I do, sometimes, I even go in full street clothes...no one’s gonna bother me. I feel free...and you can trace back it all way to Johnny Lawrence. He will always be with me and a part of me.

#cobra kai rp #amanda #journal

4 notes · View notes

imrobert-clarington · 6 years ago

Text

Bonding||Self-Para

It had been a long night for the Anderson-Clarington family. After a few hours of coaxing, Robbie had managed to tuck Cooper under his chin and carry him out of his office. He had texted Blaine to meet them at the house, thankful that the younger Anderson had taken it upon himself to buy a car seat of his own. Robbie had to admire the commitment that he was taking as an uncle. He knew there was something special in the bond between uncle and nephew.

As they got home, Robbie focused on getting a passed out Cooper out of his clothes while Blaine got Zach ready for bed. Once Robbie got his fiance tucked into bed, he walked the younger Anderson out of the house and thanked him for everything before locking the door. He went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water before heading back up the stairs to the bedroom.

He hadn’t even so much as sat down on the bed before he noticed two pairs of eyes on him. He almost had to laugh at the sight before him: Zach had managed to pull himself up by the side of the crib and was looking at him expectantly. “If it’s not one of you avoiding sleep, it’s the other, isn’t it,” he mumbled softly as he set the water on the bedside table. He walked over quietly to the crib, standing there for a moment and looking down at the big brown eyes staring back at him.

“Come on then,” he said quietly, bending down to pick him up gently and settling him against his hip. “It’s late, Zach Attack, we need to get you to sleep. You’re the one who’s supposed to get an ungodly amount of sleep right now.”

He walked down the stairs slowly, still feeling paranoid about carrying a little infant down. He’d never been afraid of tripping on them before, but when he literally had another life in his hands....well, that was a different story.

He grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch as he walked past, the movement disturbing the two pups that had just settled on the couch. Dodger immediately went to follow him, though Penny stayed behind, looking up at him. “Pen, I think Dad needs you up there,” he said softly. He knew that Penny couldn’t actually understand him, but the way she hauled ass up the stairs immediately made him second guess himself.

He continued walking out onto the deck, shifting Zach closer to him as the chilled night air settled around them as he walked towards the hammock. It wasn’t so unbearable, though, especially after he switched on the small space heater next to them. Dodger settled underneath the hammock as Robbie gingerly laid them down and draped the blanket on top of them.

He looked back at Zach, who was still staring back at him. He had to be thankful that the boy had at least gotten used to him, if nothing else. It had been a hard week, with Ellie going back home and the boy getting used to his new environment. He took the fact that he wasn’t being screamed at as a good sign.

Robbie could tell that the boy was tired, seeing as his usual energy was radiating off him as normal. He could only assume that he was refusing sleep, something that seemed to run in the family.

“So,” he mused. “I know how to tire your dad out enough to pass out, but I guess now is an experiment to see what it takes for you.” He paused for a moment, bringing his knees up so the young boy could lean against them. “I mean, I could just talk for a while, bore you to sleep,” he said with a small chuckle. “I could teach you how to dab, though I think Cooper would kill me if I took that away from him. Not to mention I’m not sure how effective it’d be.”

He sighed softly as he shrugged. “I’m trying to remember what my Dad did when I had nights like this. Granted, that was ages ago. Obviously, I don’t remember from first hand experience. You don’t really remember things that happen when you’re a baby. Just like you won’t remember this night at all.”

“My mom would tell me though. Later in life, I mean. I was a fussy baby, apparently. Dad was the only one who could calm me down and make me get to sleep. He would turn me into a plane, reenact some of the famous battles of the World Wars. Kept it PG, of course, and that would be enough to make me laugh, to stop crying. Then he’d just walk me around the room until I had no other choice but to sleep.”

He slipped his thumbs into Zach’s hands and waved them back and forth, the boy still staring at him, a little lost but Robbie could appreciate the attention. “I wish you would’ve gotten the chance to meet him. He liked to sound tough a lot but he was a big softie; he’s where part of your name comes from too, you know. I wish he was here too, ‘cause then I could ask him how-” he was cut off as a pair of hands launched themselves into his beard.

He paused for a moment before cracking a laugh. “I was trying to have a moment here!” he said through his chuckles. He closed his lips around his teeth and nipped at Zach’s hands, illiciting a squeal from the small boy. Robbie let his laughs fade out as he looked at the boy, seeing every bit of Cooper in him, though also catching the small glimpses of Ellie underneath.

But for the first time that week, after pulling Cooper out of the depths again, Robbie was determined to see himself there too. He sighed softly, carefully getting out of the hammock, turning off the heater and walking them back inside. Dodger immediately went back to the couch, though Robbie lingered in the hallway, walking to the small group of photos that were hanging there.

“That’s him,” he said softly, as he pointed to a picture of his father. “See? Looks scary, but then you remember that he was just barely as tall as your Dad, and he’s not so bad,” he chuckled, moving on to the next picture. “That’s Sarah, your aunt,” he said quickly, letting the use of the titles help him make this seem more normal, “and your cousin, Gabe. Gabe’s a maniac, but he’s a good kid. It wouldn’t surprise me if you know the name of every dinosaur in existence by the time you’re two. Also, it’s a good thing they live on the other side of the country or you would be getting so spoiled.”

He pointed to the next one as Zach laid his head on Robbie’s shoulder, his little hand fisting in the man’s shirt. “That’s Hunter,” he said, pointing out the man in the family photo as he gently leaned his head against the boy’s. “Honestly, he’s a hard one to keep up with, but he’s family, and I think a good uncle to have. If I know either him or your uncle Blaine at all, those two would probably fight to the death for the title of ‘World’s Greatest Uncle’. I’ve already been through it with Hunt when it comes to Gabe,” he chuckled.

He stopped at the next picture, sighing softly at the image of his mother. “And you’ve met Mom,” he said softly. “She loves you, don’t worry, I don’t want the tension from last week to scare you. She’s just...worried. It’s a weird situation. But I think it’ll work out okay. See, the thing with your Dad and I....nothing about us has ever been normal; we’ve had to make our own normal. It’ll be a fun story to tell you one day, but honestly, how we had our first child....well, why should that be normal?”

He heard a labored breath under his chin, and he knew that that meant the boy had fallen asleep. He smiled softly and walked back over to the couch, tossing the blanket back down. With a finally pat to Dodger’s head, Robbie slowly made his way back up the stairs. He placed the boy gently back in his crib and pulled the blanket over him. He leaned against the side of the crib and watched him for a moment. He leaned over and kissed his head gently and sighed. “I do love you, kiddo. We’ll hit a rhythm, I promise.”

He tapped the crib lightly with his knuckle before stepping back and glancing over at Cooper. He smiled to himself as he noticed the man had already star-fished. He stripped down to just his t-shirt and boxers before crawling into bed, mindful of Penny as she moved to compensate him. He reached over and scratched behind her ears, kissing her head softly before laying back. Instead of curling on his side, though, he nudged his way under Cooper’s arm and wrapped one of his own around the other’s waist.

The house was quiet, but with his fiance next to him, his dogs in their respective places, and his son across the room, it was home. And that’s what Robbie held onto as he drifted off to sleep.

#self-para #self: bonding

2 notes · View notes

amblingandshambling · 8 years ago

Text

Family AU--Appendicitis

Warnings for vomit, mild self-destructive behavior, and surgery. I tend to put everyone through the wringer eventually.

Glanni awoke abruptly at a little after four in the morning to three things: footsteps running to the en-suite bathroom, no Ithro in the bed beside him, and the sound of violent retching.

He was on his feet and tapping lightly on the bathroom door in seconds, before he was even anywhere close to fully awake. Not even waiting for a real response, he walked in.

His boyfriend was sitting next to the toilet, his arms wrapped around his stomach, and tears in his eyes from retching so violently, though he had not thrown up.

Glanni knelt down beside Ithro, laying a hand on his boyfriend’s hot forehead, then thumbed away the tears. “My poor dear,” Glanni said softly, shifting so that he could hold Ithro, something that he didn’t do nearly often enough; usually Ithro was the one supporting Glanni due to their size difference and the fact that Glanni had a tendency to fall ill, get injured, or break down emotionally more often. Ithro laid his head on Glanni’s chest, sniffling softly while Glanni stroked his hair.

They sat like that for several minutes, until Ithro pulled away, hiccuping miserably and panting as he got his head over the toilet. He could feel Glanni’s hand on his back, rubbing circles, and silently offering support. He couldn’t recall a time that he had felt so terrible.

He hiccuped miserably, the hiccups turning into occasional wet burps that tasted awful and made his stomach churn even worse. He finally fell back and buried his head in Glanni’s shoulder, trying not to sob.

Suddenly, he twisted in Glanni’s arms, just barely getting his head over the toilet before he threw up. He vaguely heard Glanni make a squeak of surprise, then he started rubbing Ithro’s back, saying comforting things.

When he finally stopped, he fell into Glanni’s arms, letting out a sob. He didn’t even react as Glanni wiped off his mouth for him and flushed the toilet. He closed his eyes, laying his head down on Glanni’s shoulder. Glanni could feel it growing damp, but that did not matter to him. What mattered was that his boyfriend was in pain, and there didn’t seem to be anything that he could do about it. “Do you want to try to lie down for a little while?”

Ithro nodded. “You might want to get a bin, just in case.” He looked horribly pale, dark circles under his eyes, tears standing out on his eyelashes.

Glanni nodded, laying a cool hand on Ithro’s hot forehead, making a humming noise as Ithro leaned into it. “We’ll try it then,” Glanni said, helping Ithro to stand.

It took some doing, as well as a few dangerous lurches over the bin, for Glanni to get Ithro back in bed. He closed his eyes as Glanni laid a cool hand back on his forehead, asking, “Do you think you can try to keep down some paracetamol?”

“I can try,” Ithro replied. He sighed. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this bad.

“I can’t either,” Glanni replied as he helped Ithro to take the pills. “You don’t get sick very often.”

“Means I pay for it worse when I do.” Ithro replied as Glanni pulled the covers up on him.

“God, I hope not,” Glanni said, climbing back into bed. It wasn’t often that he was the big spoon; just when Ithro was sick or injured, or upset by something.

He dozed back off with his nose in Ithro’s hair, an arm around his boyfriend.

Glanni woke up to the sound of Ithro throwing up into the bin. He sat up and began rubbing his back, just saying over and over, “It’s alright. It’ll be okay. It’ll be over soon.”

He was ready when Ithro set the bin down, and started crying. He always cried when he threw up, and even he didn’t know why. He just sat down beside him and held him, kissing the top of his head. He was worried about the fever that he felt.

Finally, he calmed down, and Glanni kissed his forehead, then went to empty the bin. He came back with the clean bin, a glass of water, and a cool washcloth.

“Just drink a little,” Glanni said, helping Ithro hold the glass. He then set it on the bedside table, wiping his face and the back of his neck with the cool cloth. He then held Ithro close, letting him bury his head in the crook of his neck.

“Feel awful,” Ithro mumbled.“

“I know,” Glanni replied. “I’m going to wake up Robbie and Sportacus to tell them to take Ella and the boys to school. I honestly don’t feel right leaving you alone for long.”

“I’d be okay long enough for you to do that. It’s just a stomach bug.”

“Frankly, my dear,” Glanni said, stopping at the doorway, turning, and raising an eyebrow, “that is absolute bullshit.”

That sinking feeling that Glanni was trying to suppress came back full force when he returned to find Ithro retching into the bin. Robbie and Sportacus had immediately agreed to get the boys and Ella up and ready, dropping them off on the way to class, promising to keep their phones on in case they were needed.

Sportacus poked his head in as Robbie was getting the boys ready for school. All that had to be really done with Ella was make sure that she had everything, as, even with a checklist, she occasionally forgot things, but where both Glanni and Robbie had the same issue, they had taught her the same system that had worked for them. Noticing that his brother had fallen back asleep, he asked Glanni, “How is he?” Knowing how rarely his brother fell ill, he was not optimistic about Glanni’s response.

“At least he’s not thrown up since I went and woke you and Robbie up.”

“Here’s hoping that it was just a mild case of food poisoning or something like that,” Sportacus said, hoping that he wasn’t jinxing the situation as he went back out to help Ella find her shoes, then to help Flobby tie his.

Glanni, relieved that Ithro had managed to sleep through all the hubbub of getting four kids ready for school, decided that it would be appropriate to text Straujárn and let him know that Ithro was sick, but that it wasn’t a cause for concern. He quickly replied to keep him posted, and to call if he needed him. He then fell asleep as Ithro rolled over and buried his head in his chest.

Waking up to being thrown up on was, in spite of being the oldest of six, and having a big hand in the upbringing of the youngest four, not an experience that Glanni had ever quite gotten used to. He did manage to avoid shrieking out of shock, and focus on comforting Ithro, who was shaking like a leaf, completely shocked that he had woke up throwing up.

As soon as he stopped, he burst into tears, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

As Glanni held him, not caring about the mess, as it could be cleaned, and comforting Ithro was far more important to him, he was starting to get a sinking feeling that this was more than a case of food poisoning or a stomach bug.

“Glanni…I think…I need to go to…the hospital.”

“I think you’re right. You’re in so much pain that I would rather go and it be something small…”

“I know,” Ithro replied, slowly climbing out of the bed, looking in disgust at the mess. He then clapped a hand over his mouth, retching behind it.

“Just throw up on the sheet,” Glanni said as he changed into jeans and a sweater, pulling out a pair of sleep pants and a hoodie for Ithro. “I have to strip it anyway, so don’t worry about it.”

He looked on in concern as Ithro retched violently several times before bringing up some acid, bile, and the water Glanni kept coaxing into him. He then cried out, clutching his stomach.

“Come on, let’s get you dressed, “Glanni said, helping Ithro into the sleep pants and hoodie, with the bin ready, fortunately, as he was taken over by two bouts of retching, once while he was actually getting dressed, and the other while Glanni stripped the sheets and threw them in the washer.

“Shit, I need to call your dad, and,” he looked down, “shoes. I need shoes.”

As miserable as Ithro felt, he had to laugh at how ditzy Glanni could be sometimes.

Straujárn met them at the hospital, his face pinched with worry. Fortunately, they were both allowed back with Ithro while they were waiting for him to be examined. Straujárn quietly filled out all of the paperwork and turned it in.

The doctor came in, a kind-looking man with dark brown hair and blue eyes, with a moustache. He introduced himself as Dr. Carl Latham, then quickly, but thoroughly examined Ithro. He concluded by nodding sharply.

“I’m almost completely certain that it’s appendicitis. I need to do surgery as soon as possible.” He then made quick work of arranging for an operating room. He then smiled kindly at both Glanni and Straujárn, then said, “There is a waiting room three doors down and to the left. If the two of you want to go there and wait, I will let you know any news as it happens.”

Straujárn and Glanni both nodded as two orderlies came in. Straujárn immediately went over and kissed his elder son on the forehead. “I’ll be here the whole time, and I’ll see you when you wake up.”

Glanni then kissed Ithro on the cheek. “I’ll be here too, dear heart.”

Two hours later, Glanni was a mess, pacing the room anxiously. Sportacus and Robbie were on their way, as they had a test that could not be made up without a lot of hassle, so were taking it, then coming.

Straujárn stood up as Glanni began punching the brick wall, sobbing almost silently. When the next blow fell onto Straujárn’s palm instead of the slightly bloody wall, he fell into Straujárn’s arms, sobbing so hard that he seemed to be vibrating.

Straujárn guided him to a chair, holding him until his sobs slowed, then examined Glanni’s bloody knuckles, gently feeling them for any damage. “You know, this solves nothing,” he said quietly.“

"I know,” Glanni replied, shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs. “I’m just so scared. What if it’s something worse? What if…oh, God, what if I lose him?”

“I’ll let you in on something,” Straujárn said, drawing Glanni close, but meeting his eyes for just a moment, blue on grey, “I’m terrified. That’s my son in there, going through something that I can’t take on for him. I have to hope for the best, because the worst is something that I refuse to imagine. Do you get what I’m saying?” He felt Glanni nod against his chest, almost dozing as Straujárn stroked his hair. He was of the belief that no child, biological or not, ever grew too old to be held and petted if they wanted or needed it.

He looked up as Robbie and Sportacus entered the room. Robbie immediately looked his brother over, saw that he was dozing, then sat down.

“Have you heard anything?” Sportacus asked his father.

“Not yet, but it’s not been particularly long.” He looked up as Milford entered the room, looked his younger brother over, and, having heard him answer Sportacus’ question, sat down beside his younger brother, who immediately laid his head on his shoulder.

It was less than half an hour later when Dr. Latham came into the waiting room with a gentle smile on his face. “Everything went fine,” he said.

#lazytown #family!au #family au #glanni glaepur #ithrottaalfurrin #glannithro #sportacus #robbie rotten #sportarobbie #appendicitis #sickfic #tw vomit #tw surgery #poor ithro #i reckon he's due for some whump #glanni is a good boyfriend #even when he's terrified #tw self destruction

18 notes · View notes

wordsarepretty · 6 years ago

Text

UFC Nashville: Thompson vs. Pettis – Fights to make

The UFC is deep into their run of Fight Night events, and while the churn of ‘guys/gals fighting’ has developed a certain monotonous air to it, they’ve been regularly rescued by some fantastic main events. Anthony Pettis became the latest fighter to pull an event from entirely forgettable to memorable, on the back of his highlight reel KO of Stephen Thompson. Otherwise, outside a few other highlights, UFC Nashville didn’t leave many fighters in position to make a serious leap up their divisions.

So, is Anthony Pettis really a welterweight top contender? Can Curtis Blaydes turn wrestling dominance into another headlining opportunity? And just how little did Jussier Formiga gain by beating Deiveson Figueiredo?

To answer all these questions – and very little else – I’ll be using the classic Silva/Shelby fight booking method of years past. That means pitting winners against winners, losers against losers, and similarly tenured talent up against one another. If you’d like to take your own shot at some matchmaking glory, leave a comment below starting with, “Call up Momma and tell her I’m fine.” I’ll pick one winner from the responses to join me next time.

This week’s winner is BE reader “TheBirdsDen”:

Hi everyone, Im Bird. I have been involved in combat sports pretty much my entire life. I have been a BE member for a long time and I dont miss Snowden at all! I always liked Zane though.

ANTHONY PETTIS

Bird – That was a shocking and impressive victory for Showtime and I really didn’t see it coming. Pettis just starched one of the top welterweights in the world. While the RDA rematch is the obvious choice, RDA is coming off a loss and unlikely. I think Showtime vs Jorge Masvidal is the right fight to make at the current time. Both are coming off big wins and near the top 5 of the division, and the fight would be entertaining.

Zane – First things first, Pettis isn’t going to get that RDA fight ASAP. And, if RDA loses to Kevin Lee, then fighting Pettis really wouldn’t make a ton of sense. Much like Masvidal, Pettis’ recent history may not be filled with consistent performances, but he now has one of the best possible, most emphatic wins at welterweight. A lot of me would really like to see which former lightweight is able to keep their shocking momentum rolling. I’d also like to see what Pettis can do against Robbie Lawler, but it’s sounding more and more set that fans are getting Lawler vs. Askren 2. Fights against Demian Maia or Ponzinibbio would be the other principal options. But, since I really don’t find myself engaged by the idea of a Masvidal/Edwards fight (and I don’t think Masvidal wants it either), then book Pettis vs. Masvidal. Given Masvidal’s cult-favorite status and Pettis’ history as a former champ – and both men’s huge wins – it seems like a guaranteed action headliner. Pettis vs. Masvidal is a great fight.

STEPHEN THOMPSON

Bird – Wonderboy has a bunch of potential rematches that no one wants to see. Woodley 3? No thanks. I’m also good on running a Till rematch back. Why not match Wonderboy with another violent striker in the division? Obviously brain trauma is a good reason… but I think Wonderboy vs Robbie Lawler would be a barnburner. It would keep the winner relevant at the top of the division while the loser would start a slide toward being a top 10 gatekeeper.

Zane – An absolutely crushing loss for ‘Wonderboy’ and one that really puts his hopes of another title shot on the rocks. Pettis was there for Thompson to put together a dominating win and instead he got sparked out. Unfortunately for him, there aren’t too many welterweights coming off a loss and unbooked right now. I wouldn’t be averse to him getting in there against an up and comer like Luque or Martin or Zaleski, but off two straight losses it seems more likely that he’ll wait for a bit until another high profile welterweight is riding defeat. If the UFC really is set on running Lawler/Askren back, let Thompson fight the loser. The loser of Lee vs. RDA wouldn’t be a bad look either. If he just wants to get back in there as fast as possible, then there are plenty of hungry fighters looking to make their name off him. But assuming he takes his time, then Stephen Thompson vs. the Askren/Lawler 2 loser would be just right. And obviously, if that Askren/Lawler fight doesn’t happen, then Thompson/Lawler is just too good to pass up.

CURTIS BLAYDES

Bird – I dont think Blaydes vs JDS is the fight to make, but it could happen. No way we do Blaydes vs Ngannou 3. I am more interested in seeing if Blaydes can beat Alexey Oleinik. I’m basically trying to figure out if Blaydes is Mark Hunt’s avenging angel since Willis and Oleinik have recent wins over Mark Hunt. So, obviously Curtis Blaydes vs Alexey Oleinik 2 is the fight to make.

Zane – Curtis Blaydes gave a strong list of next fights he wants: Stipe Miocic, Junior Dos Santos, or Derrick Lewis… unfortunately he didn’t give a performance that’d make fans all that interested in seeing those fights. So much of what happens at heavyweight right now depends on what happens with DC and whether he gets Lesnar or Ngannou or Stipe gets his rematch. If Ngannou doesn’t get the title shot, then Ngannou vs. JDS is a fight I’d way rather see, and I doubt Stipe is at all interested in fighting Blaydes (even if it’s exactly what the UFC might want). And unfortunately, Derrick Lewis just took a hard loss and just had knee surgery. That leaves… Alexander Volkov, if he beats Overeem? Or maybe the Tuivasa vs. Ivanov winner? Hopefully the UFC can coax Stipe to take on Blaydes, but if not Blaydes vs. Volkov off a win is more likely what he’ll end up with.

JUSSIER FORMIGA

Bird – I have been wanting to see Formiga fight for UFC gold for a long time; I think he will finally get his chance. Henry Cejudo is the only fight that makes sense for him now. Its crazy to think what a big deal Uncle Creepy’s victory over Formiga was in the Tachi Palace days. Now Uncle Creepy’s best days are long behind him, and Formiga is still at the top of the division. Its very impressive, lets hope he finally gets his title shot.

Zane – Uhh… pass.

No, no… we can figure this out. The UFC is effectively shuttering flyweight by all appearances, and they’re actively pursuing Henry Cejudo vs. Marlon Moraes for the bantamweight title. So Formiga’s status as top contender really does get him absolutely nothing. If he’s willing to go to 135 (which he’ll probably have to, to stay in the UFC much longer) then this’d be a rock solid time to call out Aljamain Sterling, who’s seeing his own title hopes gets shoved aside. But, if he doesn’t want to try bantamweight just yet – in hopes that White changes his mind – then the only thing that makes any other sense is Benavidez vs. Formiga 2. I’d say make it for an interim title, but that’d just be all the more harsh when White stripped the winner two months later. Joe-B vs. Formiga 2 is the ONLY flyweight fight to make.

Bird – The hyped prospect had a lot of trouble facing the southpaw stance in her first fight at 125. Lets have her face another hyped southpaw striker prospect in Antonina Shevchenko. They have a combined 16-0 record, and a nice buzz surrounding both of them. If Barber wins it sets her up for a ‘Bullet’ Shevchenko fight in the future.

Zane – Barber had a rough first round against a huge step up in competition, but adjusted, bit down, and turned the tide to get the win. For a prospect? That’s a great sign. Technique can be improved, fight IQ and determination are a lot harder to coach in. If the UFC doesn’t rush her straight to the top, there are several strong options: Gillian Robertson, Mara Romero Borella, and even a fights with Montana De La Rosa or Andrea Lee if they want to test her against other fast rising prospects. Of all those, the Robertson fight may be the safest matchup. But, just because I’d like to see Barber get the chance to push the hype she’s built for herself, I’ll say book Maycee Barber vs. Montana De La Rosa. MDLR has looked more polished and aggressive lately, and has four straight submission wins. But she’s also lost to top prospects and seems to be feasting on sub-par competition. Time to see how much she’s improved, or if Barber can keep it all rolling. Barber vs. De La Rosa is a strong next step.

MARLON VERA

Bird – Vera has 3 stoppage victories in a row and destroyed Frankie Saenz. Peter Yan is a bit higher in the rankings, but hes 4-0 in the UFC and I think these two would produce a very entertaining fight. Whoever wins will be on a very impressive win streak.

Zane – Tendency for fouls aside, Marlon Vera is building a serious resume in the bantamweight division. He has seven wins to go with his four losses and has looked sharper and more dangerous each time out. Against Saenz, he even broke his curse of slow starts, rocking him with a jab for the early win. My personal preference would be to see him take on another really tough, well seasoned fighter that can force him to prove his composure again. Someone like Cody Stamann would be just right, or maybe Rob Font. But, Vera called out Nathaniel Wood, and that’s gotta be the fight to push for. It’s rare that an experienced, long time UFC talent coming off a strong win calls out a fresh prospect. For Wood, it’s a great opportunity to get the kind of win that could put a number next to his name. For Vera, it’s a high-risk, low-reward action fight. If Vera’s willing to take the chance, who am I to stop him. Marlon Vera vs. Nathaniel Wood is a great fight if Vera says he wants it.

Bird – I doubt she wants another crack at Liz Carmouche right now, so why not match her up against Andrea Lee. Lee has a name and is 2-0 in the UFC. The division is shallow and this fight would make sense at the moment.

Zane – As much as the loss to Liz Carmouche was a terrible way to make her UFC debut, this win over Davis will likely put Maia right in line to get some more notable fights (most likely with other less popular flyweights the UFC wants to put on prelims). Fights against the loser of Calderwood/Chookagian or Jessica Eye – after her meeting with Shevchenko at UFC 238 – would both be strong options there. There’s also a potential bout with the winner of Roxanne Modafferi vs. Antonina Shevchenko. A chance for revenge for Roxy, or another name veteran for Antonina to build her resume against. Eventually, however, I’m going to say that the UFC should book her against Andrea Lee. There’s no sense in waiting for other results, when there’s a perfectly decent matchup right there waiting. Andrea Lee vs. Jennifer Maia should be entertaining.

RANDA MARKOS

Bird – She looked very impressive beating Angela Hill with a quick armbar. The 11 fight UFC vet would be a good match for Cynthia Calvillo, who is 5-1 in the UFC and would be a nice current step up for Markos.

Zane – At this point, it almost feels like Markos has fought everyone in her division. I’ve long wanted her to take a TUF rematch with Felice Herrig (same goes for Tecia Torres), but both those women are fighting off a loss right now, as is Claudia Gadelha. Fortunately, Cynthia Calvillo is coming off a very reasonable win that didn’t get anyone too thrilled about charging her up into a top contenders bout. And that should make her the perfect next fight for Markos here. A win for Calvillo and her resume will be that much deeper when the chance for a big fight presents itself. And a win for Markos would likely come based off the kind of improved aggression that she showed in this fight. Randa Markos vs. Cynthia Calvillo would push either woman toward bigger bouts down the road.

OTHER BOUTS: Justin Willis vs. Tai Tuivasa (win or lose to Ivanov), John Makdessi vs. Marc Diakiese, Jesus Pinedo vs. Marcos Mariano, Deiveson Figueiredo vs. Sergio Pettis, Luis Pena vs. Mike Grundy, Steven Peterson vs. Anderson dos Santos, JJ Aldrich vs. Justine Kish, Bryce Mitchell vs. Chris Fishgold, Bobby Moffett vs. Nad Narimani, Frankie Saenz vs. Johnny Eduardo, Alexis Davis vs. Ashlee Evans-Smith, Angela Hill vs. Felice Herrig, Chris Gutierrez vs. Matt Schnell, Ryan MacDonald vs. Su Mudaerji, Jordan Espinosa vs. Rogerio Bontorin, Eric Shelton vs. Magomed Bibulatov

Latest From Our Partners

Latest From MMA Warehouse

Source Article

The post UFC Nashville: Thompson vs. Pettis – Fights to make appeared first on WORDSAREPRETTY.

More Info At: http://www.wordsarepretty.com/ufc-nashville-thompson-vs-pettis-fights-to-make/

0 notes