#jimmy should die painfully | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fischerfrey · 2 years ago

Text

HPMA; Dawncey ficlets, part 6

Smut! There’s a party in the Forbidden Forest and Dawn realises things.

Words: 3k

Rating: E

Warnings: Explicit content

A/N: I take no responsibility for any bl*wj*b-related inaccuracies presented in this work of fiction.

MCs included:

Dawn Harvelle by @potionboy3

Beginning ｜Previous Chapter｜Next Chapter

October 6th, 2012

The Forbidden Forest party had become somewhat of a legendary tradition at that point. Dawn wasn’t sure who was responsible for smuggling in all the alcohol and decorations, but every year they appeared, almost like magic. There was always music and lights, and it was always loud, and nobody had any idea how the staff didn’t put a stop to it. Maybe they didn’t know or maybe they didn’t care. Dawn was glad of an excuse to get out of his head, so he resolved to get absolutely wasted. Some people brought their own drinks, but there was also a table filled to the brim with bottles of all kinds. There were even many muggle beverages, which was always a nice addition to any party. He poured himself a nice big mug of something that smelled especially vile and tried to locate his friends. Failing that, he saw a few Ravenclaws from his Transfiguration class and he elected to talk to them instead.

Half an hour later, he was deep in conversation with one of them, he thought her name was Emily, or maybe it was Emma. He’d brought out the big guns, been charming and flirty, but it just didn’t bring the same giddiness it used to. He looked around and saw something by the drinks table that did make his stomach feel funny. Quickly, he finished his drink and offered to go get them both new ones, cutting off whatever Emma/Emily had been saying. She agreed and Dawn headed for the drinks. Quincey was pouring himself a big, big glass of what seemed to be a wizarding version of vodka.

“Oh no, you’re doing it again,” said Dawn. and looked for something a bit more palatable for Emma/Emily, since she’d only been drinking beer before.

Quincey turned towards him and asked: “Doing what?” He seemed a bit drunk already.

“Trying to die while I’m present,” Dawn explained. “You should notice, though, that this time there are witnesses.”

“I think I’m quite safe,” said Quincey and raised his pint full of vodka. “Cheers, mate!” The way he said mate didn’t sound friendly at all and his posh accent managed to sound even more ridiculous when he was drunk.

“Someone has their knickers on a twist,” Dawn observed.

Quincey, like someone with their knickers on a twist, frowned. “Hardly.”

“Well, have fun then,” said Dawn as he watched Quincey take a long sip from his drink.

“Who goes to a party to be miserable?” he asked.

“My best friend Jimmy.”

“He sounds like the worst,” observed Quincey and Dawn laughed.

“Yes, we bring out the worst in each other, our children will have trauma,” he said.

“Mh.”

Dawn picked out someone’s Gryffindor coffee mug and filled it with fire whiskey. Quincey was already pouring more stuff into his pint.

“Again,” said Dawn. “Have fun.”

Quincey didn’t say anything, and Dawn went back to Emma/Emily.

After that, Dawn had an even harder time following the conversation. He was deliberately not looking at Quincey although he was painfully aware of where he and his friends were sitting. He tried to focus his attention on Emma/Emily and hoped that his absent stare spoke only of drunkenness and not where his brain was at. Dawn wasn’t sure how much time passed when he noticed Quincey in his field of vision. He was talking to someone. A seventh year Slytherin boy whose name escaped Dawn was smoking near the bonfire built in the middle of the clearing. Dawn stared as Quincey leaned closer and whispered something close to his ear. The boy laughed. Dawn couldn’t look away. Suddenly he realized Emma/Emily had been trying to get his attention for a while.

“You know what,” she said, and Dawn vaguely registered it. “Whatever.”

Dawn didn’t say anything, nor did he look at her. Emma/Emily got up and walked away. A crowd of fifth years walked by the bonfire and obscured Dawn’s vision of Quincey and the other boy. When they had passed, the two were nowhere to be seen. Dawn was not curious. He got up from his seat and figured he would stretch his legs. He was not looking for Quincey, not even a little bit, so when he wandered off the clearing and spotted him slightly deeper in the woods, it was purely a coincidence. Quincey was alone. He was smoking and had a drink in his other hand. Dawn hid behind a huge tree and watched him.

Quincey was a bit unsteady on his feet, and he clearly didn’t smoke regularly but the Slytherin guy was nowhere to be seen. Dawn tried to get a better look, and accidentally stepped on a branch. Quincey turned towards the sound, though he didn’t seem to spot him.

“Hello?” he called. Dawn didn’t see the point in hiding.

“Prince Liquor,” he greeted, stepping out from behind the tree.

“Are you stalking me?” Quincey asked, knitting his eyebrows together.

Dawn wasn’t stalking, he was just walking. “Maybe.”

“That’s pretty rude.”

“Not my fault you don’t have your security with you,” Dawn pointed out.

“Oh, mother did try,” said Quincey, sounding like someone who had had this argument several times. “She even tried to forbid me from going at all this year.”

Dawn took a few steps closer. “Did you rebel?” he asked.

“Something like that.”

“Ha,” said Dawn and watched the prince take drag of his cigarette. He was suddenly craving a smoke too, so he walked up to Quincey and snatched it out of his hand.

“Hey, I paid for that,” he protested.

“Relax, I’ll give you one of mine,” Dawn said. “I just don’t have them with me right now…” He did. They were in his pocket.

“Come on,” Quincey whined. Dawn wasn’t a cruel man so after a nice, long drag, he handed it back to him. Quincey took a deeper inhale this time and coughed. Dawn elected not to make a comment and figured it was the right choice when Quincey handed the cigarette back to him. They passed it back and forth until most of it was gone. Then Dawn put it out with his boot and was about to pick it up (one shouldn’t litter) when Quincey took out his wand and said: “Evanseco.”

“Look at you,” Dawn said, when the cigarette butt disappeared into thin air.

“Wizards are lazy, right?” Quincey remarked.

“They sure are.”

“What are you doing here?” Quincey asked.

“Looking for you.”

“I thought you were…” he paused for a moment. “Busy.”

“Tight schedule, yes,” said Dawn. “Had to move things around to get here.”

“Must’ve been difficult for you.”

“Yes, the Minister of Magic is very disappointed.”

Quincey didn’t laugh. He just looked at Dawn, and frankly, it was kind of rude, because he had a distracting face. Dawn pulled him into a kiss without really thinking. Quincey kissed him back eagerly, pushing him against the nearest tree. Dawn let out a surprised gasp and grabbed Quincey’s face to get his distracting mouth back to his. He hadn’t been looking for Quincey, but he didn’t mind that he found him.

“Dawn, what do you want from me?” Quincey asked suddenly, breaking away from the kiss.

Dawn tried to make sense of the question. “Like, right now?”

A look passed through Quincey’s face that Dawn couldn’t place, before he said: “Alright, sure, right now.”

“Is this a trick question?”

Quincey heaved a sigh. “No.”

“It feels like it is.”

“It’s not,” Quincey said and touched Dawn’s face softly. “You’re just a very confusing person.”

“I want this,” Dawn said, motioning between them. “You.”

“Alright.”

“And you?” Dawn asked. “What do you want?”

“I…” Quincey started and when he didn’t continue, Dawn poked him in the chin.

“I want to suck you off.”

Dawn blinked and could feel his face flush. Jesus Fucking Christ.

“If you want me to, that is,” Quincey continued. Dawn couldn’t think of a single version of reality where he wouldn’t want him to.

“Yes,” he said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. “Yes, I want that, you heard me the last time.” I’m obsessed with your mouth. And he was. Imagining those lips around his cock did things to his mind he didn’t want to examine further.

Quincey gave him a quick kiss and undid his trousers. Then he got down on his knees and Dawn tried to form a coherent thought.

"How ironic is it that you got on your knees for me," he managed to say.

Quincey looked up at him. “Yes, once again, the irony is not lost.”

Dawn smirked. The whole situation was delicious. Then Quincey pulled his trouser down and Dawn wasn’t smirking anymore. His brain was travelling at light speed somewhere around the Eagle Nebula, while his thoughts were already failing to keep up ad then Quincey had the audacity to kiss his hipbone softly and bring his hand to touch him through his underpants. It sent a jolt up Dawn’s spine, and he leaned harder against the tree.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered under his breath. Quincey kept kissing his skin right above the waistband of his boxers and frankly, it was driving him insane. “You should know I’m not the most patient person out there.”

“If you think I’m going to rush this then you’re very wrong,” Quincey said, lifting his eyes to meet Dawn’s. He had a glint in his eyes Dawn wasn’t used to seeing there, or maybe Dawn was just drunk. Maybe they both were.

“You’re a pompous asshole,” Dawn said. Or at least something akin to that.

“Always so polite,” said Quincey and Dawn couldn’t bear any of it. He grabbed Quincey’s hair and brought his head back down.

“Bossy,” muttered Quincey but he did pull Dawn’s boxers down.

So, it turned out having Quincey fucking Alderly suck your cock was something of an all-encompassing experience. Dawn was transfixed, utterly delirious with want. Worst of all, Quincey wasn’t playing around. He was like some kind of a blowjob-prodigy, a cock-sucking wunderkind. When he pulled back to look up at him, Dawn felt the absence of his mouth keenly.

“Too big for you, Your Highness?” he asked in a shaky voice.

Quincey smiled. “No,” he said matter-of-factly. “I was just wondering whether you’d like to come on my face or in my mouth.”

Jesus Fucking Christ. Dawn stared at him, unable to say anything. Quincey licked his lips, tilting his head expectantly.

“Mouth,” Dawn managed desperately, and he almost didn’t recognize his own voice.

“Okay,” Quincey said and was about to get back to it.

Dawn stopped him and said: “It was a joke.”

“What?”

“The size thing, I was kidding.”

Quincey hummed and took him back into his mouth. After that, it didn’t take very long for Dawn to reach his limit. Quincey was as good as his word and didn’t pull away. Dawn couldn’t remember having ever come that hard, but then again, he wasn’t exactly in his right mind at the minute. He swayed on his legs and Quincey got up to steady him. He wiped his face clean with his sleeve.

“Thanks,” Dawn said dreamily.

“You’re welcome.”

“Have you done that before?” Dawn inquired.

“Yes.”

“Huh?”

“Not here, but out of school, yeah,” Quincey explained.

“Oh…”

“What?”

“I guess I wasn’t expecting you to be so upfront about it,” Dawn admitted.

“I suppose I thought you had figured it out,” said Quincey.

“Figured what out?”

“That I’m…” Quincey trailed off. “I mean, after what you said to me on the day of the storm, I thought you knew.”

“Wait…,” said Dawn. The gears in his brain were turning. “Are you gay?”

Quincey nodded. Dawn stared at him. That actually made so much sense.

“I didn’t know.”

“Oh,” Quincey said. “Well, I mean I am. So. Yeah.”

Dawn had to reassess some narratives in his brain in light of this new information. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.

“That guy from before,” he said. “Were you flirting with him?”

“Well, yes, a little bit,” Quincey said. “Not really, I just wanted to bum a cigarette.”

“And he flirted with you?”

“Maybe, but we’re a bit unclear on that but he did give me the cigarette. I lied; I didn’t pay.”

“Oh,” said Dawn. It didn’t bother him. It didn’t. He just felt weirded out, suddenly.

“What?” asked Quincey.

“Nothing,” Dawn brushed him off and pulled his trousers back up.

“Do you want to go back to the party?”

Dawn didn’t, really. His head was a confusing mess of thoughts, doubts, and Quincey. It was agonizing. “Uh…”

“Are you okay?” Quincey asked carefully.

“Yeah, I just don’t wanna go back yet,” Dawn said.

“Do you… want me to go?”

“Do you want to?”

Quincey shook his head. “No, not really.”

Dawn kissed him again. Quincey grabbed a hold of his face and kissed him back and maybe it felt funny in the pit of Dawn’s stomach, that was neither here nor there.

When they pulled apart, Dawn looked at Quincey and made a decision.

“Hey?”

“Yes?” Quincey asked.

“Do you… do you want me to,” Dawn attempted to formulate a sentence that made sense. “Do you want something from me?”

Quincey smiled softly. “Nothing you don’t want to give.”

“And if I do want to give?”

“Then yes,” Quincey said and there was gravity in it, somehow.

Dawn pulled him into a kiss and switched their positions, so Quincey’s back was against the tree.

“Oh–,” said Quincey.

Dawn kissed him, then kept kissing him, then kissed his neck.

“Fuck,” Quincey said, and Dawn laughed. He hadn’t known how much he wanted to hear Quincey swear until he had heard him swear because Dawn was touching him or kissing him.

“You’re impossible.”

“That’s the idea,” said Dawn and undid Quincey’s belt. He wasn’t about to be a tease, unlike some. He slid his hands in Quincey’s trousers and touched him.

“Oh fuck,” Quincey said into his hand. Dawn laughed, savouring the feeling of having Quincey in his hands like this. He leaned in to kiss his neck more. Maybe he’d leave a mark there. Maybe Quincey wouldn’t spell it away. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Dawn was feeling quite drunk and daring. He was fairly confident he’d seen enough girls go down on him to have a basic idea of the mechanics. He pulled Quincey’s trousers down and knelt.

“Dawn–,” Quincey said, surprised.

“Mm?” Dawn kept moving his hand.

“You don’t have to–,” the rest of Quincey’s sentence was lost in a moan when Dawn picked up the pace.

“Aa-ha,” he simply said. He wasn’t going to back down now, besides, he was curious. And he liked to see Quincey squirm.

“Seriously.”

“Noted,” said Dawn and thought of what he usually liked in a good blowjob. Quincey was staring at him, wide-eyed, like Dawn was something special, something beautiful. He brushed the thought aside and gave the tip of Quincey’s cock a kiss. Quincey let out a litany of swear words. Dawn, encouraged by this, sucked the tip in his mouth. He used his tongue, which elicited more appreciative sounds out of Quincey’s beautiful fucking mouth. He grabbed Dawn’s hair and asked in a shaky voice: “How are you even real?”

“I feel a bit unreal right now, to be honest,” Dawn admitted. He kept playing with Quincey’s cock like he had, taking slightly more of it in his mouth. When he looked up to see Quincey’s reaction, he was already looking back at him.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said, touching Dawn’s face.

“Mmh,” said Dawn. He couldn’t very well say much else in his current situation.

“I’m close,” Quincey said breathlessly. Dawn kept at it, using his hands and his tongue in equal measure.

“Oh, fuck, I’m going to come–,” he said.

Dawn looked up again. Their eyes met and that seemed to do it for Quincey, who came with Dawn’s name on his lips. It was messy but Dawn didn’t pull away. He kept looking at Quincey, not quite believing he had done this, that he’d made him look like that, sound like that. Quincey offered him a hand and Dawn took it. Quincey pulled him up and into a kiss. Dawn laughed into it.

“That was…” Quincey said after a while.

“Godawful?” Dawn offered.

“I was going to say pretty good.”

“I’ll take that.”

This time when Quincey kissed him, Dawn kissed back. Quincey pulled his trousers up and said: “Your hair’s a mess.”

“And whose fault is that?” asked Dawn.

“Mine,” Quincey replied without any sort of remorse. In fact, he smiled, angelically.

“Yours,” said Dawn.

Quincey looked at him for a long moment. Then he stepped closer and tried to smooth down Dawn’s hair.

“That’s only going to make it worse,” Dawn said.

“Oh,” said Quincey and pulled his hands away. “Okay.”

“But don’t stop!” Dawn protested.

Quincey laughed and put his hands back into Dawn’s hair. Dawn kissed him and Quincey dropped his other hand to Dawn’s back, pulling him closer and holding him there. Dawn wrapped his arms around him and didn’t think about the warm feeling rising in his chest.

#hpma fic #dawncey #dawn harvelle #quincey alderly #*my writing #*mine #dawn is the most unreliable narrator #he is also not the utmost authority on bl*wj*bs so take his word with a pinch of salt

12 notes · View notes

besidesitstoowarm · 2 years ago

Text

"Rose" random thoughts

opening of this episode gives me such immense flashbacks to working at macy's it makes me want to die. i forgot how beautiful s1 billie piper is. makes me want to say shit like "jeez louise"

i forgot how fun mickey used to be (we are not discussing his actor.) he and rose are so playful and cute. nine of course is serving straight off the bat. jackie being like both "you should sue, you've had trauma" and also "you need a new job ASAP" very like my mom

the music is painfully 2005 and the outfits are worse but otherwise it's a really good mix of contemporary tv with classic doctor who charm and goofiness. you can feel the edge of the time war on him without him being too hard and unapproachable

i forgot about this dude who has a website on the doctor! they should have kept him around. i have decided to believe that nine is the one who killed jfk based on his sleuthing. choosing to believe mickey's bright yellow ass car is a reference to bessie

rose says she left school for some guy named "jimmy stones" which i don't think i've ever caught before. it's been so long since i watched a davies-era ep at all, let alone a rose-era one, i want to try and recapture the magic from when i watched it in high school. i'm going to try and keep track of the little character details and themes and such

i think nine's tardis interior is my second favorite only after the 60s-inspired one we get with twelve. the bronze-and-teal color, the coral struts. i like that when nine meets the nestene consciousness, he tries polite species-specific diplomacy instead of "i'm too clever for the room" monologuing, i like both types of dialogue but the former is a lot less common. one of the only other examples i can think of is "empress of mars"

"i couldn't save your world, i couldn't save any of them!" ughhhh so good. i don't think nine would have fit in "day of the doctor" as it was written but a version that suited him could have been so good. i wish eccleston would come back at some point altho i don't blame him for not wanting to

THE CHILD MANNEQUINS I FORGOT HOW CREEPY THEY ARE

i love that rose's saving grace is that she was okay at gymnastics when she was seven. i hate the way people use this quote to be like "COMPANIONS USED TO BE RELATABLE" but it's such a good moment for her

okay it was good and we like to see it! i can't wait to keep going

#besides its too rewatch #Doctor Who #Rose #DW s1

2 notes · View notes

biglisbonnews · 2 years ago

Photo

MrBeast Sparks Criticism After Helping 1,000 Blind People See Again Jimmy Donaldson, also known as MrBeast, has made a career out of documenting his good deeds on his YouTube to over 130 million subscribers. From giving people cars to donating extraordinary amounts of money to everyone from everyday people to influencers, he is on the extreme end of generosity on the platform. Donaldson took it to another level on January 28 when he posted a video about restoring the sight of over 1,000 blind people.There are many different kinds of blindness, and some are treatable. According to a SEE International surgeon featured in the video, most sight-impaired people with cataracts only need a ten-minute surgery to be able to see again. Unfortunately, barriers such as finances and location prevent many people from getting the proper care they need. In partnership with the organization, Donaldson paid for a thousand people's surgeries, even offering some of them an extra $10,000 dollars. Related | MrBeast Surpasses PewDiePie As Most-Subscribed YouTuberHowever, the feel-good video also sparked a conversation about philanthropy on the internet, healthcare and more. Some pointed out that Donaldson uses his charity to avoid paying taxes. None — PeopleOverProperty (@PeopleOverProperty) 1675032894 Twitch streamer Hasan Piker explained that the video fills him with "rage" because it highlights how most life-saving care is blocked by a "paywall" and it takes a YouTuber doing it for content to help people. In 2021, Donaldson reportedly made $54 million on the video platform alone. \u201cTwitch streamer Hasan explained why he\u2019s filled with rage from watching MrBeast\u2019s newest video where he cures 1,000 people\u2019s blindness\u201d — Dexerto (@Dexerto) 1675098713 And the ethics of filming a good deed has been brought up again as people still debate whether monetizing charitable acts or using them for views negates the impact of what was done. \u201cI will cure your blindness on the condition I get to film and exploit your emotions. Also it's good for my business. \n\nJoin us next week on Mr Beast when I dangle a $1000 in front of some homeless dude and say he can have it if he tells everyone to like and subscribe\u201d — Stych (@Stych) 1675018913 \u201cThe dude who goes by Mr. Beast (idk his real name) could just simply pay for people's surgeries and not film it for content as an exchange. If he was truly doing it to help people he wouldn't monetize the content. It's gross and highly manipulative. I said what I said.\u201d — Antonia. (@Antonia.) 1675102139 Donaldson responded to the criticism on Twitter, confirming he has seen the intense conversation around his history-making act of kindness. \u201cTwitter - Rich people should help others with their money\n\nMe - Okay, I\u2019ll use my money to help people and I promise to give away all my money before I die. Every single penny.\n\nTwitter - MrBeast bad\u201d — MrBeast (@MrBeast) 1675119794 Some people came to the YouTuber's defense, making sure that his good deed didn't go unnoticed. \u201cI don\u2019t care about Mr. Beast I genuinely barely know anything about him, his platform, whatever. \n\nAll I\u2019m gonna say on the matter is that if monetizing good deeds is the means by which 1000 PEOPLE are literally CURED of BLINDNESS, I am 100% okay with monetizing good deeds.\u201d — [HB] RAINEY\u2122 (@[HB] RAINEY\u2122) 1675201519 \u201cThe Mr Beast situation should make it painfully obvious, that you just gotta do what you want, regardless of what people say. You could find the cure for cancer, and some people will still be upset with you.\u201d — Mightykeef (@Mightykeef) 1675177062 For what it's worth, Donaldson himself seems to agree that the government should step in. \u201cI don\u2019t understand why curable blindness is a thing. Why don\u2019t governments step in and help? Even if you\u2019re thinking purely from a financial standpoint it\u2019s hard to see how they don\u2019t roi on taxes from people being able to work again.\u201d — MrBeast (@MrBeast) 1675088051 For what it's worth, it shouldn't take a miraculous act of charity for people to access care. According to the nonprofit organization MyVision, the average cost of cataract surgery is $3,500 and $7,000 per eye. Insurance can help cover some of the cost depending on the plan, if the patient's deductible has been met and the condition that is causing the blindness. Certain eye conditions are not covered by insurance and sometimes even seemingly necessary procedures can be deemed cosmetic or unnecessary, leaving the patient to shoulder the high cost.Below, watch MrBeast's original video.Photo courtesy of Dave Kotinsky https://www.papermag.com/mr-beast-controversy-2659336797.html

#Mr beast #Mrbeast #Jimmy donaldson #Philanthropy #Charity #Jade Gomez#PAPER

0 notes

secret-diary-of-an-fa · 2 years ago

Text

The Inevitable End of Year Awards, 2022 Edition

It would be fair to say that 2022 got off to a flatulent yet anaemic start back in Ye Olde January and has since sign-waved between extremes of joyless and joyful like a sherry-addled schizophrenic telling you his life story at a Xmas party that just won’t fucking end, finally ending on a weirdly positive note. So, with that in mind and before the New Year bursts all over us like a faulty condom, let us roll up our sleeves and ferret through the detritus of the year in the hope of finding the purest diamonds and filthiest sludge-nuggets, so we can drape medals about them and call it an awards ceremony. Let’s rock and roll, fuckeroos!

The Feyd-Rautha Award for Having One Job and Not Fucking Doing It… … Goes to Vladimir Putin, who gave himself the job of conquering the Ukraine and, despite having the military resources of an immense, wealthy country, a police state and a fully-subjugated media at his disposal, failed miserably. The war in Ukraine continues with no sign of Russia actually achieving anything. A bit’s been annexed- sort of- but Ukraine remains resolute and it’s highly probably that Russia’s ailing dictator will die before completing the job that he obviously intended to be his legacy. The stupid fucking twat.

The Suspicious Package that’s Actually a Present Award for Nicest Surprise… … Goes to the film Bullet Train, which looked like nothing more than a good laugh from the adverts but turned out to be a legitimately perfect film, utterly flawless in narrative construction and characterisation… that also happened to be a really good laugh. Any film that has Brad Pitt singing the praises of fate and smart toilets while two hit men bicker about Thomas the Tank Engine has got to be worth the price of admission… and maybe a little dance.

The Patrick Stewart Painting a Naked Beethoven Award for Special Services to High Culture… … Goes to another film, The Northman, which dared to ask ‘what if Hamlet and Beowulf were the same person’. It was a beautiful, meditative experience that reflected on the intersection between heroism and madness in pre-modern mythology… that also found time for fart jokes with Willem Dafoe and a big, epic sword-fight in front of an exploding volcano. I swear this is a real movie. I didn’t just neck a load of tramadol and hallucinate it while staring at an ant-farm. Go on, Google it. It’s real!

The Suspiciously Abrupt Bathroom Break Award for Shortest Tenure… Goes to spittle-spraying, plate-faced, xenophobic freak, Liz Truss, who clawed her way to the position of Tory Prime Minister but lasted about as long as a fast-food restaurant called Jimmy’s Shit and Chip Salmonella Palace. She was promptly replaced by a urinary condition in a suit who somehow contrived to be worse than her, despite the fact that that should have been physically impossible.

The Joker Shooting a Chat-Show Host Dead Award for Most Satisfying Moment… … Goes to the Doctor’s regeneration into previous, beloved Doctor Who star David Tennant shortly after the announcement that previous, beloved show-runner Russel T. Davis was being brought back to write and run the show again. The BBC is constitutionally capable of just saying ‘sorry, we fucked up’, but this does read as the closest possible equivalent. After a painfully ill-advised gender-flip, some lore-wrecking bullshit, an episode where the Doctor shilled for an evil mega-corp and a long-winded, multi-episode trudge through the colourful world of queer-baiting, the BBC seems to have finally realised that the last few years were a mistake. Will this lesson stay learned? Probably not. We’re talking about people who keep making the same crime drama every year and just calling it different names. Object permanence is not the Beeb’s strong-suit… but it’s still incredibly, viscerally satisfying to see a blustering, half-witted, incestuous institution forced into a U-turn, however temporary it might later end up being.

The Pluggity McPlugface Award for Best New Work of Fiction… … Goes to Enlightenment for All!, a brand new short story published by left-wing magazine Culture Matters and available to download for free, right now. Taking place across 20,000 years and charting a multi-generational effort to uncover the secret of enlightenment itself, it’s already being hailed as an important work of outsider ‘gypsy futurism’ by a certain internationally-respected poet WHO I AM IN NO WAY ADMITTING BEING RELATED TO. Oh, did I not mention? I’m the author! I wrote it! I am a proper published author, and this one story is set to be followed by a whole book in the New Year! Take a moment to let that sink in: I have a story available through one of Britain’s leading leftist magazines and a book of short stories slated to come out through the same soon. Once again: for all the squalidness of modern society, my life is fucking awesome.

The Garth Meringue Award for Abject Terror… … Goes to Smile, which- like Bullet Train- is a fucking perfect movie… albeit measured by a different metric. In this case, the metric for success is the number of ruined trousers associated with the media artefact’s existence, which has got to be well into the millions by now. This is neither the time nor place for a review, but Smile terrified me in a way that few films every have. Its capacity to induce fear is truly awe-inspiring… as its related capacity to ruin trousers.

The Special Award for Taking the Piss Like a Fucking Sewer System… … Goes to the recent rises in gas and electric prices. The UK’s price rises are among the highest on the European continent, because the people in charge of this country’s energy policies are craven, witless morons who have cheerfully privatised the energy sector while failing to arrange alternate sources of power at the state level. As a result, heating a home is now a slightly more expensive endeavour than just fucking off and starting a new life... ON THE MOON!

The Beige Flake in an Unflavoured Ice-Cream Award for Existing… … Goes to tepid new Marvel telly-show, She-Hulk: Attorney at Law, which has a fucking amazing title and contains one of Marvel Comics’ most beloved female characters… yet arrived to the resounding sound of ‘meh’. I never watched it myself, but I feel comfortable including it in my end of year round-up because, er, neither did anyone else. Why? Well, a combination of dodgy effects, formulaic episodes and one scene in which poor old Bruce Banner gets an ear-bashing from the title character that the fans just weren’t standing for. And that’s it: something that should have been a hilarious, weird odyssey through Marvel’s lesser-known catalogue arrived ended up making almost zero impression on the shape of popular culture. Pity really- but something from Marvel making so little impression is actually, weirdly impressive in itself. If they reverse-engineer the properties that made it so forgettable, they could render them down to a paint and use it disguise fucking military aircraft carriers.

The Salvador Dali Riding a Neon Zebra Through a Sky Made of Pancakes Award for Sheer Fucking Weirdness… … Goes to Everything Everywhere All at Once, a pseudo-comedy about the multiverse, divergent timelines, dildos, pinatas, family drama, rocks with googly eyes and putting everything on a bagel so that it collapses in on itself and becomes a reality-consuming singularity. It’s a great movie with a brilliantly talented actress and comedian in the leading roll. I realise I’ve done a lot of media mentions in this end of year round-up, but I feel like it’s important to praise films like this. If we don’t shine a light on quality, we end up with dreck. Good, original films and telly are rare, especially in a world where everything is a copy of some pre-existing IP, transcribed and adjusted and mutated until its no longer recognisable as itself. We live in a world where Jeff Bezos can buy the right to Lord of the Rings lore just so he can wipe his bald, pointless cock on it and where all of pop culture is dominated by a single, soulless corporation. When smaller creators with original ideas do something great, we should shine a light on it. So I am. Well done this film.

The ‘What, Really?’ Award for Unexpected Good News… … Goes to the news that James Gunn is going to be put in charge of the DC cinematic universe, which is unexpected and good- the two criteria for shockingly underwhelming award.

The Wonderful Fucking Timing Award… … Is the last award of the entry and goes to my car- or former car- which chose the week before Xmas to break down irreparably, leaking oil, petrol and water all at the same time while the engine misfired systematically. I loved that old motor, but its timing was always somewhat on the spectacular side. And so we end our awards ceremony on a personal and profoundly trivial note. So it goes.

And that was 2022. It averaged out to be pretty okay and now its ending to make way for 2023, which promises to be the latest in a long line of years. Until then (and the inevitable New Years Resolutions blog), bye.

#Secret Diary of a Fat Admirer #awards #end of year awards #everything everywhere all at once #Russel T Davies #new book #me

0 notes

streep-mulgrew-anderson · 2 years ago

Text

youtube

💫 2022 💫

Going into to 2022, there were still many things from 2021 I was waiting for… those pre Emmy pics on the stairs and for Gillian to actually acknowledge Ninapharm.

For me, I had nothing but hope and optimism at the start of the year. Surely it can’t get any worse… right??

So all of this is written in the moment. Well, it should be interesting to see if some vibes actually came to be. Here we go…

January

January started off painfully slow. I believe Gillian was filming in Pennsylvania maybe?? Maybe not. Anyway. 6 days into January and what like 2 -3 weeks since we had seen her, Gillian was spotted eating scones and drinking tea and posed for a picture sending everyone into relief that she was in fact still alive. And then on the 8th she finally posted something; Nelson. But it wouldn’t be until the 26th that she would finally post a selfie… saving the world. January ended with two new videos. One of Gillian interviewing FLEE director Jonas Poher Rasmussen. Love how she started the interview completely American and then the next minute she’s full on Brit! And the other, Gillian wearing silk Pjs, giving a look to die for. So after January starting incredibly slowly, it ended with Gillian being back in her active on social media era.

February

February started with Gillian working with yet another beauty company, only, she’s promoting it this time. And of course, Stella joined in the fun. Then Gillian decided she was going to be more active in one day on Twitter than she has been in weeks, and legit asked to play Sarah Paulsen’s wife. Robin robin was nominated for an Oscar. She then did a sit down Q and A thing that was amazing. Gillian also seems to have gotten an Apple Watch for Christmas which surprise surprise has Stella as the background. Gillian also entered her podcast era which has not been as exciting as I thought it would be. She really only talks for the first and last 5 minutes. I’m sure she puts in a lot of time researching which story to use but I was a little disappointed (And it’s actually mostly written by her social media manager...but I didn’t tell you that) Feb ended with G’s appearance at Whodunnit 2’ at Park Theatre.

March

March started with a fresh pfp and header… which I had first on my Twitter so she clearly stole my idea. We got to see some behind the scenes shots of Gillian recording her podcast. Gillian went to LA…. Honestly didn’t see that one coming with a commitment in Cannes days after. As soon as I saw Robin Robin scored an Oscar nom, I thought… I so can see her going to the Oscars. Gillian did some First Lady press. I didn’t think press would start soon so but I’m not complaining. And I’ve got my fingers and toes crossed for gillovny content. Of course though, none of that happened, we just got Stella playing ball in a London park. Gillian signed a deal with Netflix to produce some new tv shows and holy shit I’m so proud. And you know me, I’m a sucker for a good theory so in my humble opinion that certain contract with a certain someone really paid off, I just wish it didn’t have to play out like that. Her production company has actually been a thing for a really long time.

April

April started off with Gillian being awarded the icon award at Cannes series. I found it odd though that nothing was posted to her socials of her getting ready beforehand because pretty much every event she goes to, she does. (? change in SM manager?) Though the next day before her Q&A she did post some before hand stuff and then did post stuff from the day before. Honestly am loving this phase she is going through. Though, it was at about this time that a fear crept into my mind. A fear that I thought was left behind in 2020…

The first lady press that was filmed back in Match started airing. It definitely doesn’t seem like a strong Emmy campaign which I find strange too. Gillian also realised more stuff with windsor London, not that she promoted it. Gillian did end up going to LA again and attended Jimmy Kimmel in person which has always been a great interview. In a quick recap, she ran into a door and talked about eating her penis cake. Gillian also decided to start wearing earrings in her seconds again. And as someone who has their seconds pierced, I’m loving this and can’t wait to see if she continues to do it to get some inspiration.

Gillian attended the First Lady premiere and omg I actually loved the bright pink pantsuit. I obviously only started following Gillian during lockdown so it’s actually so cool to see her back out again on red carpets. And then Gillian just casually dropped that Sex Ed has been pushed back again and won’t start filming till the end of summer through till march. Like are you kidding me. I don’t think I can wait that long. It better be fucking good. So within like 48 hours, Gillian jetted out of LA with a video reel on her Instagram which was adorable. I’m loving this era of Gillian. And also they re pierced her ears apparently for Jimmy Kimmel only because it was gone by the next day.

The First Lady started to air. The first episode left me a little on the fence. I think because the Obama and Ford eras are more recent than the Rossavelts, that’s why maybe it’s not exactly hitting the mark straight away. I’m actually okay with the timeline being all over the place. Gillian is obviously acing it but it is unfortunately that story line that so far is what is letting the show down. Gillian of course posted some behind the scenes shots to mark the show starting. The 18th of April passed with unfortunately no selfie update. Gillian also did a photo shoot for L’Officiel which is surprisingly her first one of the year and again was perfect.

May

How are we in May already! May started with me holding on to a really slim hope that Gillian would attend the Met gala. I know she mostly hated it last year but there a few subtle clues indicating that she might attend. But then I realised that she already had an event booked for that day 😫 and then it turns out she didn’t even go to either event. Gillian, still in her Instagram reel era posted one of her time on set of the First Lady. Honestly though, she actually seems like so much fun to work with. Connie posted the absolute most gorgeous photo of Gillian and piper which of course Gillian shared. Gillian, still in her influencer era was spotted filming so ads in London. We had our first Gillovny moment of the year. Connie posted a pic of them and Gillian tagged David and added it to her stories. David let the team down and never publicly acknowledged it but we all know he slid into her DMs… well…. He was probably already there.

So then this video of From Jimmy Kimmel came out and Gillian AND David were in it and next to each other (not really though)

The First Lady continued to air and holy shit seeing Gillian kiss a woman multiple times changed my life and made me rethink the last year of Gillian content.

Gillian recorded a reading for Women's Prize for Fiction: Virtual Shortlist Festival 2022 which was completely toaster quality.

As the First Lady continues to air, I’m surprisingly falling more in love with it. And then May ended with actually footage of Gillian and her most likely re heated soggy chips. If you know what I mean by this then don’t talk to me about it because I am holding onto a thin string trying not to do the same. I wish that toaster would just disappear. I’m not surprised just disappointed. And for people who hate the judgement, 1I’ve never dated someone that all my friends have liked. It’s basically the blue print of being a friend. As long as she’s happy that’s all that really does matter. We all know she could do so much better but at the same time we all know a fraction of the truth, which is all we should know anyway. Connie tried to save the day though.

June

That ad G filmed in May was realised and like damn! Connie fed us again. She honestly needs to release a book. AND THEN gillian posted the same photo tagging David. David left us hanging again… publicly anyway. Like he's got a book to promote so you think he’d be all over her posts. But on said book promotion he actually sort of threw her under the bus. Someone needs to send these two some gillovny videos to remind them how perfect they are and to get over their egos but then yet again, we know nothing about the truth and I’m just gonna shut up.

Gillian modelled for Chloe.

The First Lady finished and I never thought I would become so attached to that show. It definitely missed the mark and I think that was because it wasn’t really all that linear in it’s story. I think having the 3 story lines was a bit much. But otherwise, Eleanor and Hick spin off?? It’s been ages too since I watched a show that you can just binge watch all at once so it made my Sunday’s just that more enjoyable. She then did an interview with gold derby and damn her nails! Glad she also confirmed that she hasn’t worked since February because I was starting to get worried and that she will be filming sex ed in September. Gillian went to paramount plus uk launch and holy shit I forgot how to breath. It’s the tan and the bleached hair that ended me. Disappointed she ditched her black nails for her usual colour but when considering the rest of the fit was perfect, how can you complain. The trailer for white bird a wonder story finally came out. G loved it up in Glastonbury.

July

July started off slow. Gillian did an amazing podcast about mental health which I loved. We are half way through this year and it’s been slow. I mean like she has said that she hasn’t been working a lot which is obvious. She only filmed one thing this year with possible 3 things coming out all up. And at this point nothing new has been announced. Not even from her Netflix deal. I’m a little worried maybe. More worried about what she’s planning… any way it definitely doesn’t seem that she is going full on campaign mode like she did for the Emmy’s last year which is a shame. Sex education has finally started filming which is making me nervous because I swear to god if they ruin one of my favourite comfort characters arc even more i will scream. Emmy noms came out and wtf. I thought for sure she would get one. The First Lady got completely snubbed which I get because it wasn’t amazing but I thought it would get at least something in the major categories. And then The Great leads all got nominated but that was it. So disappointing. At least Gillian really loved those characters but it is a major snub considering her clean sweep last year. I think the team behind the first lady just really really missed the mark. They had three amazing lead actresses who at least one of them could have got nominated but it didn’t happen. And July ended slow.

August

Ah August. Got my clown costume ready to go! I’m glad the last few weeks have been quite because at this point in time I had a really bad work crush and was basically picking up as many overtime shifts as I could and was a very nice welcomed distraction. Anyway.

The First Lady got cancelled which I’m disappointed with but not surprised. I’m mean at least it doesn’t effect Gillian because she wouldn’t be in the next season. I think they got it all completely wrong. Everything about it was just messy.

Gillian entered her unhinged era on twitter. I mean, she practically always been there but clearly has stepped it up a bit. One thing she is in though is her unemployment era.

David’s birthday came…. And David’s birthday passed. We all know they definitely spoke privately but yeah. I would like to think they are on a nice holiday together or something. At least G probably is before she starts filming sex Ed next month. I mean they both were unusually quite for this time of the year. But we love a last minute goofy selfie and some cute thank you replies. Thanks to David for a poorly timed tweet about a recent book he read. I’m not buying it. Maybe public birthday messages will be once every 2 years from now on. At least we got some tbt tags this year on Gillian’s behalf.

The roller coaster that is sex education promotion started.

And then we saw the second confirmation for the year about what should not be named. Look, we don’t know the ins and outs of her private life and all that matters is that she’s happy but I just don’t see it. And listen, for everyone who’s like I don’t understand people complaining about it, from my perspective, when you care about someone, your critical of them including their choice in partner. I’ve heard that much rumours that I don’t know what to think anymore. But also, until she confirms it and the words ( or photo) come out of her mouth, im taking it with a grain salt… unfortunately maybe a large grain of salt. They could actually be ex’s that are friends. But at the end of the day if it makes her happy that’s all that matters.

August ended with ? Gillian in her swiftie era. But let’s be real, in 2016 she’s never heard of bad blood so….

September

Ah September, you’ve been so anticipated. G finally started filming sex education. And just a reminder she basically hasn’t worked since February and has nothing else booked and this year has been painful slow with stuff relating to Gillian, at least compared to last year. She clealry must be working on something big considering she is not good at taking breaks.

She now owns 4 chickens apparently too.

Ninapharm continued to release pictures from that photo shoot campaign that Gillian has weirdly chosen to ignore.

Gillian, once again for the how many time this year, returned from the dead to go to the Burberry show in London. Forgot we were still in that era. She was seated next to ANNA WINTOUR (also across from Kanye)…. So….. what's coming next. I don’t know, I find it all maybe slightly bizarre. Loving it, don’t get me wrong but just… interesting. I mean she has launched clothing before, maybe all this fashion stuff she is suddenly doing is research for something bigger?? She has been to fashion shows in the past but not as much as she is doing now.

October

… and Gillian enters the month still basically unemployed. I might be a bit nervous. White bird was suppose to come out this month, the pale blue eyes in December and sex education is probably half way through filming and then… nothing. I mean surely she’s working on something but still.

But as my life pretty much feel apart, it’s good to see Gillian’s is not as she changed her twitter pfp to sponge bob. Yep, you read that right. All I would like to say is who gave her her twitter password back this year?? I thought she would only have it like that briefly but it stayed for like a week. A whole week. And the like 2 times she tweeted during that week, no one was taking her seriously.

White bird a wonder story was supposed to come out this month but disappeared off the face of the earth. I never watch the first one but this movie seemed really good on paper. I know Gillian said they wanted to aim it for festivals but then the release date got pushed from September to October but when the trailer got released it got a really bad reception. I’m not totally sure why. Isn’t it a book? From what I understand people were shocked about some of its context but surely that’s the same as the book right? Anyway I was really looking forward to having more Gillian content because it’s been a hot minute but I guess the wait shall continue.

So she now does adds for Netflix too. That producer deal is really being put to good work. For someone who had such a successful previous year, I don’t understand this one. I guess we are getting employed through doing ads now. I might keep that in mind.

Photos and a trailer were released for pale blue eyes. Finally something!!

Stella dressed up as little bo peep for Halloween and Gillian continued to aid fuel to the fire that she has reclaimed back her twitter password… I mean… do you really think that’s it’s someone else tweeting things like that on a Saturday evening at midnight? Because wouldn’t something like that have to be approved because it’s written under her name. That’s why I think it’s actually her.

And, I just have to add this because it hit me right in the feels, Piper wore one of Gillian’s dresses for Halloween and omg

November

November started off with a Gillovny moment! Winning! So Gillian re posted a fans remake of an iconic Gillovny photo shot for a Halloween. I absolutely love how much she has posted gillovny throw backs this year. David’s left us hanging every time though. But I’m is anyone else noticing how much she is reposting fans stuff lately?????? And surprise surprise, David left us hanging yet again. But not to worry, Connie continued posting Gillovny throw backs.

Gillian went to the crown season 5 premiere which you don’t want to hear my opinion on. Hasn’t she been to enough of them?? Fair enough the last one didn’t happen ( side not… she was the only former cast member there) and she won all the awards but pleaseeeeeeee I don’t want to hear about it. But I mean… if it makes her happy and look I would be doing the same thing if my anxiety and overthinking didn’t always get in the way. …. Maybe he is the British version of Pete Davison?????

David also deleted his twitter. Mourning all the gillovny that gos with that. Gillian…. Don’t you dare. Really grieving all those twitter interactions.

You know what else really annoys me, how critical people are of what she wears and how she does her hair.

Twitter continues to live so Gillian continues to post penises but still RIP David. Either new social media girl is totally unhinged or Gillian has that password back.

Gillian left the house again and went to a screening of pale blue eyes.

December

And so we have reached the final month… and Gillian is still unemployed. So hoping she is working on something big. That Netflix deal looking like a flop right about now?? Almost a year out of the two signed for done.

So it turns out Gillian started a beverage company, G-spot in march… so that’s what she’s been doing?? And other production company… something bigs coming right?? But at the same time, she had it for how long and done nothing with it. The website was also created in July and barely touched. I just want to really know what someone who doesn’t understand the word relax has been doing for 12 months. But like at the same time, she started Fiddleheads something like 20 year ago and it only ever was reported once so I’m not that hopefully about all these. Just like how her novels were going to be turned in a series…

Gillian started doing press for The Pale Blue Eye… again, a role that is probably going to be less than 10 minutes is getting more press from her than the last season of Sex Education. And she annoucemed her unemployment era is ending in January and from the way shes talking, 2023 sounds booked and busy. At least we don’t have to wait long. I’m surprised she only said… “i have a thing I’m starting i Jaunary that hasn’t been aoounced”. Usually she would be all like I’m doing this thing with… about… but i can’t talk about it. And it actually sounded like she said she had two things coming up…. Dr Who maybe? And maybe she kows White Bird A Wonder Storys new realise date as well because she mentioned that was coming up soon.

And to finish it all, she wished everyone a Merry Clitmas Christmas which took me wayyy to long to pick up.

So, hey! We made it! This year for me has been on pair with last year.. actually probably worse. I’ve lost a damn lot this year and been through things that I didn’t see coming. But maybe that’s what happens when you stop being silent and putting up with crap?? Safe to say all I did this year was survive.

Any way, davidduchovny on twitter I miss you. Gillian… I love you… but what is going on.

Next year is one I’m definitely excited for. I’m spending 4 weeks in Vancouver which co insides with the x files 30th anniversary and then the following 2 in London. I’m nervous but excited. And I’m so hopping I get to meet Gillian. I’m apprehensive about booking too much of the trip because I am definitely the person who will drop anything to be where she is during the 6 weeks… just as long as it doesn’t fall on the day of the wedding I’m going too. I’m also planning on maybe resigning from my job when I get home from the trip which scares the shit out of me that I'm ready to walk away from my dream job😬 the 6 weeks is also going to be me seeing if maybe I could maybe take the plunge and move over to London… all I care about is that my cat can come too. But there is a part of me that wants to stay just to prove a point

So here’s to 2023; more Gillovny, a brand new chapter and finally hopefully positive vibes and progress.

Oh, and Gillian, no more penis posts please!

#Gillian Anderson #Youtube

1 note · View note

septembersghost · 2 years ago

Note

This is so sensitive of me probably but “Jimmy/Saul got attached to Walt and wanted his love because he was reminded of Chuck and wanted someone to be cruel to him” genuinely makes me feel like I have a hole in my chest (in a good way! It should be said). Live Free and Die, and “can’t I at least get an attaboy” were already painful

bob saying it's repeating patterns and, "why do i want THIS guy's f***ing love?!" caused me so much emotional damage 😵💫🔫

i'd never even considered him feeling a real attachment to walt and now it seems like it was so obvious. of course he was still seeking out that approval he was never, ever going to get. (jesse and jimmy parallels...) of COURSE he was using that as a kind of self-punishment because he thought he deserved that cruelty even as he was looking for something like a connection. we thought it was an extension of lalo trauma (and it was!), but it's entirely tied to chuck too. it hurts me, i can't believe that single scene with walt recontextualized that dynamic so painfully.

#makes me feel insane #anonymous #letterbox #bcs spoilers

10 notes · View notes

recollins · 5 years ago

Text

On Three (Spencer Reid x Reader)

You’re strapped to a bomb and Spencer stays with you until they can get it defused. Pairing: Spencer x Neutral Reader Words: 5,383 Content: Angst Warnings: Bombs/explosives A/N: I know exactly nothing about actually defusing bombs. I did as thorough of a Google search as I could but don’t hold it against me if this isn’t totally accurate. Masterlist

This is the last time I ever stop and offer to help someone after I clock out, you think bitterly, cursing the engrained manners you’d been brought up with. Man, if you got the chance, you’d make sure your parents never heard the end of it. Yeah, they had a point – being polite definitely had gotten you somewhere in life, but this is not where you’d ever wanted to end up.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Shane sighed, tightening the strap on the vest he’d just wrestled onto you. Your vision was still swimming from the hit to the head he’d given you, but fear had you blinking away the blurring and struggling to sit up.

“Then let me go,” you croaked, voice still raw from screaming as he’d dragged you through the halls of the office you both worked at. Shane tsk’d and gave a placating pat to your cheek. “I thought we were friends.”

“Yeah, [y/n], we are,” he agreed, sitting back on his haunches to study his handwork. “And this is what friends do. Help each other out.”

“Friends don’t blow each other up!” you snapped, and instantly the fear was bubbling in your chest again. Fresh tears started to fall as you look at him desperately, reigning in the panic to try and appeal to the human side of him you prayed was buried underneath the heaping pile of batshit crazy. “Please. I’ll – I’ll give you whatever you want. I have some money saved up, I can withdraw it –“

“Don’t insult me. I don’t want money,” he scoffed, shaking his head as he pushed to his feet. “I want all of you sons of bitches to pay for thinking you could fire me. Fire me. I hold this damn company together. And you see? Now it’s all gonna fall apart. Literally.”

The cold, heartless edge to his words set your stomach churning, and the sharp glint in his eye confirmed what you’d been fearing: he wasn’t letting you go.

“I didn’t fire you, Shane. What did I ever do to you?” you whispered, dropping your head back against the railing he’d chained you to. Shane simply shrugged, scooping up the duffel bag at your side and stepping over your legs as he slung it over his shoulder.

“You screwed me over, and then you stripped me of my job. Been here ten years, [y/n], and that’s what you’re gonna do to me?”

“Shane I didn’t do that. I - I’m just the secretary! I just transfer the calls and order takeout!”

“Now you can add bomb-holder to that embarrassingly short resume. For the brief time it’ll matter.” As you met his eyes, honestly not believing he could be this sadistic this effortlessly, he leaned down and hit a button on the front of the vest and instantly it started ticking. The sob tore out of your throat before you could stop it. Shane gave your shoulder one last squeeze before he started off into the shadows. “Like I said, [y/n], I’m sorry.”

You sat in petrified silence for several long, tense moments after you heard the door close down the hall. Completely alone now, desolate fear and despair began to rise up, crash over you like waves breaking relentlessly over the unsuspecting sand. With each pass they grew stronger, colder, threatening to drag you down into the dark depths they rose from.

No, no. You couldn’t let yourself sink right now. Deep breath, [y/n]. Come on. Okay, granted, you were just the secretary for a small insurance agency, and you had no idea how to diffuse a freaking bomb, but you had to do something. There was no way you were just sitting here letting yourself be a victim.

Desperately, your shaking hands tore at the vest, careful not to disturb the mechanism on front. From this angle you couldn’t see if there was a timer, couldn’t see the wires to even begin to pretend like you knew what to do if you found them… maybe the straps? Your fumbling fingers felt around your sides, and there! There was the buckle! For several moments you tried to pull it free, but it wouldn’t budge. Another few moments went to trying to twist yourself around just to see…

Your heart sunk. Shane had tampered with the buckle, managing to secure a padlock through it that, of course, connected to the chains that held you in place. You and the vest were all tied together in a pretty metallic bow. Fucking fantastic. The guy couldn’t figure out how to properly fill out his damn timecard, but he could apparently MacGyver a homemade bomb vest to you.

Okay, new plan: the vest wasn’t coming off of you, so you’d have to come off the railing with it. You could do that. Right? Experimentally you moved to the chains. Shane had connected you to the obnoxiously solid railing that lined the walkway above the first floor, looping it around your upper arms so tight you couldn’t lift them up. You tried shimming your shoulders to work them up, but with how he’d attached the chain to the vest, all you were doing was wearing yourself out.

Fine, new new plan: you’d just fucking rip yourself either out of the vest or off the rails. You couldn’t really get your feet under you for leverage, but damn if you didn’t throw yourself forward, praying the bars would bend, or the straps of the vest would break, or you’d knock loose a secret key he’d left stashed on your body he’d forgotten about…

Nothing. You weren’t budging. Seriously, couldn’t you catch a break and find a loose railing you could snap off? Maybe the lock could jimmy loose if you tugged enough, or maybe you’d find a way to untangle yourself, get free… something! Couldn’t you catch a fucking break? I mean come on, you paid your taxes! You’d switched to a reusable water bottle instead of plastic ones! You made so many donations to the zoo last year you’d earned a membership –

You stilled at the thought and slumped back against the rails, ragged breath catching in your heaving chest. Your membership. You wouldn’t get to use your membership. Out of all the things running through your mind, that’s what finally broke you. God, that membership had been something you’d been working for, something that you’d been building up to all last year. As dumb as it was, you were really looking forward to using it. You got free admission all year long, you got a free meal with every visit, you got a cool little badge you’d pinned proudly to the visor in your car…

Now it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. You would be dead before you got your official membership card in the mail. You were going to die on the floor of this godforsaken call center, chained to a fucking indestructible fence, in a jerry-rigged bomb vest, completely alone. Your sobs echoed around the empty building painfully loud, bouncing back as if they were mocking your last moments, nearly drowning out the click of a door down the hall.

Wait. Door.

DOOR.

“H-hello?” you called, voice pathetically small in the wake of your still-echoing cries. You saw a figure coming around the corner to your right and your heart leapt up. Had Shane come back?! “Shane? Is that you?”

The man that stepped into the dim light of the walkway was definitely not Shane. He crept slowly down the hall, gun held in front of him, making a slow progression towards you as he studied the surroundings. It was dark enough you were probably no more than a lump on the ground,

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, and I’m with the FBI,” he called to you, and instantly you struggled to sit up straighter. FBI? How the hell – “Are you alright?”

“Um, no,” you admitted, and as he started to close in on you, you realized he had no idea what he was walking towards. “Wait! No, stop, you – you should stay back. It’s a bomb.”

Dr. Reid paused just ten feet from you; the light from the lower level was just enough you could make out his features. He was admittedly handsome: short, tousled brown hair, a chiseled face with full lips and a killer jawline, all packed onto a tall, lean frame… in any other setting you’d be blushing and smiling and desperately trying to see if he was interested in drinks Friday night.

Right now, you were so relieved to see a friendly face, have someone there with you, all you could do was stare up at him as tears ran down your face.

“Is anyone else with you?” Dr. Reid asked, squinting further down the hall as he started towards you again. Had he not heard the thing about the bomb!?

“No. I’m alone,” you whispered. “Shane – he, uh, he put this on me. He went out the way you came in. Everyone else was gone for the night.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, relaxing his stance as he reached up to his vest to say quickly, “Morgan I’ve got a hostage strapped to a bomb on the second floor. We need bomb squad.”

As he tucked his gun into the holster on his hip you sniffed and repeated,

“You should get back. I – it’s been ticking for a while now. I don’t know how long it’ll be until it just –“ you cut off as another sob caught in your throat. Instead of listening to you, though, Dr. Reid closed the distance between you and sunk down onto a knee at your side.

“The bomb squad is on their way, and we’ll have you out of this soon,” he said softly. You looked up at him, tear-filled eyes flicking between his own, unable to understand why he wasn’t running the opposite direction. I mean, yeah, he was an FBI agent, but it was just the two of you. No one would know if he just turned tail and ran; you wouldn’t even hold a grudge at this point.

“If they’re on the way, you don’t need to stay. You’re in danger here with me, Dr. Reid,” you reminded again, trying to urge him to go. There was no point in letting both of you die. Dr. Reid studied you for a few moments and then asked,

“What’s your name?”

“[y/n],” you whispered; he smiled and rested a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently.

“You can call me Spencer, okay? And I’m not going anywhere, [y/n]. I’ll stay with you until the bomb squad gets you free, okay?” when you continued to look up him uncomprehending, he added softly, “I wouldn’t want to be strapped to a bomb all by myself, and I have a feeling you don’t want to be either.”

“No,” you admitted, another tear rolling down your cheek. “Thank you.”

Spencer quirked a smile, hand coming off your shoulder to tug a flashlight out of his pocket. He shone it on the vest as he tenderly poked and prodded the contraption Shane had activated.

After several moments of quiet investigation over the entire setup, Spencer sat back on his haunches, lips pressed together. Instantly you shifted under the chains as you struggled to sit up a little more.

“How bad is it?” you asked softly; Spencer shifted and folded his legs underneath him to sit in front of you.

“There’s no timing mechanism I can find, so I can’t say how long we’ve got,” he admitted, lips turning up into an apologetic smile. “Bomb squad should be here in a few minutes, though. We’ve just got to wait.”

“And what if it goes off before they get here?” you pressed, the knot of worry in your chest forcing the words before you could stop them. You were really trying not to be so negative, but could he blame you?

Spencer simply shrugged and said,

“We’ll deal with it if we get there.”

Despite the situation you let out a snort that dissolved into shaky giggles, rolling your eyes up; you caught a wry smile from the FBI agent in front of you.

“Sorry. That’s not funny. None of this is. I shouldn’t laugh at that,” you snickered, shaking your head. Spencer gave a toothy smile and shrugged his shoulders.

“Laughter’s a completely normal reaction under intensely stressful situations. It enhances your intake of oxygen-rich air, stimulates your heart, lungs and muscles, and increases the endorphins that are released by your brain.”

Huh, cute and smart. Okay, for your last moments, you’d gotten pretty lucky. To your surprise, Spencer gave you an apologetic smile and ducked his head.

“I’m sorry. Facts and statistics are a passion of mine and I know they’re not comforting to others like they are to me.”

“No, I liked that,” you assured quickly. “I like learning new things, and I’m not exactly doing anything else right now.”

This time is was his turn to laugh, which got another giggle out of you. As you both fell quiet again he cleared his throat.

“You asked if I was Shane. Is that who did this?” you nodded quickly. “Shane Michaels, right?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“My team and I, we’re the Behavior Analysis Unit within the FBI. Our job is to profile criminals in order to catch them. Shane Michaels was on the short list of suspects -”

“Wait. Were you... this is tied to the bombing at the truck driving academy, isn’t it?” you asked slowly, brow furrowing; Spencer nodded, watching you piece it together. “I’m a secretary here. We do commercial insurance for truckers mostly, Shane’s one of the sales agents. He... oh, god.”

The realization of what you’d just fallen into the middle of hit you hard enough to take your breath away. You squeezed your eyes shut, nausea and fear ebbing into your stomach, making you physically ill. A timid hand reached out and rested on your knee, getting your eyes to open.

“[y/n]?” Spencer coaxed, ducking down a hint to catch your eye.

“He uh... Shane had lost a lot of commission off of them but our agency refused to let him drop the company unless they wanted to. Or...”

“Or they were no longer in business,” Spencer finished, and you nodded as you swallowed hard. He saw the look on your face and you asked softly,

“Why’d he do this to me? I - we were friends, I thought. We’d worked here for years together. I know our boss was firing him for losing us money, but I was always nice to him. Why me?”

Spencer sighed, eyes dropping down for a moment like he was considering if he should answer you. His hand was still on your knee, and you managed to shift your arms enough to rest your fingers on top of his own to get his attention. When he lifted his gaze again, his expression softened. He could tell right now you wanted answers more than anything.

“Shane’s a classic narcissist. For him, the attempt at firing him was more than just the loss of a job. It was a direct blow to his ego, and he couldn’t let that go. Bombing the trucking company was just rage, just an outlet for his immediate anger. This agency was his main target all along. I don’t think he was specifically after you, I think you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I helped him do his stupid timecard every day,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut. “I ordered him extra egg rolls with lunch. I - god. Instead of just walking past him tonight I stopped to help him carry his bags. I thought he was just cleaning out his desk, and then...” your eyes opened, more tears rolling down your cheeks. Spencer’s face was soft, gentle, filled with a deep understanding that somehow made you feel even less alone. He truly knew the terror you were in, the sadness, the confusion... “I should’ve just gone home. Just walked past him, driven straight home, heated up my leftovers.”

Spencer hmm’d and raised his brows.

“What’s for dinner?”

He was trying to take your mind off it all. Distract you. Keep the panic at bay as best he could when there was a chunk of explosives resting on your chest.

“This weird meatball casserole thing,” you started, the face you pulled unable to be helped at the memory of it. He laughed at the look and you explained, “I’m not the best cook, but I wanted to be creative. It’s... well, if I’m in a pinch I could probably use it to fix holes in my drywall.”

The honest, toothy smile he gave you got another unexpected giggle from you.

“I’m not that great of a cook either,” he admitted. “Usually I resort to take-out. I’m not adventurous enough to try my own creations.”

Now you were both giggling, the sound thankfully drowning out the incessant ticking for a few moments. When he met your eyes again, you found yourself admitting,

“Usually I do take-out too. I’ve been trying to save up money, though, so I’ve been getting ingredients on sale and then pretending I know what to do with them.” Spencer made a face and you nodded eagerly. “Yeah, that’s about how well it’s working out.”

“What are you saving for?” he asked, tipping his head to the side when he caught the instant embarrassment that lit up your face. “If it’s personal you don’t need to answer -”

“No, no. It’s... I like animals. A lot,” you admitted, clearing your throat. “I just earned a membership to the zoo, and... they have this program where you can sponsor an animal. Ever since I was little I really wanted to do something like that. I don’t make a ton here, so it’s been a slow process, but I almost have enough.”

To your surprise there was genuine intrigue on his face, and he studied you with what almost looked like admiration. Seriously, if you could get the eminent death device off of you, you’d really need to find out if he ever got some free time away from bombs and weird animal-obsessed insurance secretaries.

“I think that’s really neat,” he admitted, without a doubt pulling a blush out of you. “What animal do you want to sponsor?”

You gave a shrug of your shoulders and explained, “I can’t decide. Actually, I was gonna go to the zoo this weekend to look at them all. But now I...”

You cleared your throat and fell silent; the ticking seemed to get even louder just to mock you. Spencer’s hand, still on your knee, gave a gentle squeeze. You hadn’t noticed your lip was trembling until you tried to speak and only a whimper came out.

“We’ll get you out of here,” he promised, the assurance in his voice soothing the tight ache in your chest. You went to answer and without warning, the steady ticking of the bomb stopped.

You actually gasped, going completely still, eyes flicking between Spencer’s own startled gaze and the vest. The unearthly silence you’d plunged into brought on a wave of hope, and then loud, frenzied beeping began.

“What that? What’s happening?” you gasped, hands flying to the contraption on your chest in panic. Spencer was on his knees instantly, catching both your wrists in one of his hands while he leaned closer to study the vest.

“I don’t know - [y/n], hold still. Take a deep breath, okay? Let me look,” he instructed, voice gentle but commanding, putting the brakes on your alarm as you struggled to suck in a ragged breath. He was mumbling under his breath, soft brown eyes flicking over the vest, lips finally pressing together as he lifted his gaze to you.

“Please tell me,” you begged him; when he still didn’t answer, you managed to twist one of your hands over in his to squeeze his wrist. “Please.”

“The display is flashing red,” he described, leaning back a hint. “Nothing else has changed, but -”

“But this isn’t good,” you finished, fresh tears forming. Fast beeping? Flashing? It had to be about ready to go off. “Spencer, you need to leave. This is gonna go off and you’re -”

Spencer let go of your wrists, and before you could miss his warmth, his hand took firm hold of one of yours. He sunk a little lower in front of you to meet your gaze with a resolute, unwavering stare.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here with you.”

You clung to his hand, managing a nod, sucking in another shaking breath. You really didn’t want him to get hurt, but... you really didn’t want to be alone. Maybe that was selfish. I mean, this guy could die because of you, but the thought of having to sit through this alone was almost more frightening than the bomb.

Almost.

Spencer has his phone out a moment later, and he popped it onto speaker as it rang. Not a moment later it picked up and the person on the other end instantly said,

“Squads three minutes out, kid - what’s that beepin’?”

“It just started doing that,” Spencer rushed. “And it’s -”

“You’re still in there? Reid, Hotch told you to evacuate -”

Spencer’s eyes flicked to you and then back to the vest a heartbeat later; you caught sight of the headset he’d radioed in on earlier. He’d been told to leave, and he was still with you?

“Morgan, it went from ticking to beeping, and now it’s flashing red. I need you to walk me through what to do.”

“What?! No, kid, just wait for the squad. Do you know how dangerous -”

“I don’t think we have time for the squad,” he admitted, and instinctively your hand tightened on his. He met your eyes instantly and said softly to you, “Morgan’s studied how to defuse bombs and he’s the best chance we’ve got right now.”

“Spencer he’s right, you need to leave,” you begged, guilt and fear swirling inside of you. You tried to pull your hand free and his own tightened. “Just go. Why are you staying? You don’t even know me and this is gonna kill you -”

“It’s my job to protect those who need it,” he told you firmly, voice low with resolve. “I told you I’m staying, and I meant it. We’re going to figure this out together and you’re going to go to the zoo and find which animal you’re sponsoring. Okay?”

All you could manage was a whimper; Spencer squeezed your hand as he pressed,

“Okay, [y/n]?”

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding and sucking in a shaking breath. Morgan gave a heavy sigh through the phone.

“We’re really doin’ this... okay. Kid, do you see any wires?”

“Just two, both feeding into the right side of the display. It looks like they attach to the explosive packs.”

“Okay. This is really important. [y/n],” he said, and your eyes fell to the phone on the floor between you and Spencer. “Do you know if there was a remote detonator, or a manual switch?”

“He - he pressed a button before he left,” you said quickly.

“Can you show Reid where it was?”

“Um, I couldn’t see, really, but...” you shut your eyes and tried to picture where his hand had been. “Is... is there something on the upper right side?”

“Yes, two buttons. Morgan, one’s yellow, one’s black.”

“Alright. [y/n], do you know if he pushed the top or bottom one?”

“I don’t, I’m so sorry,” you rushed out. Morgan instantly said,

“Ay, that’s okay, sunshine. Kid, yellow one’s on top, right?” Spencer made a noise of confirmation. “Okay. We only got one shot at this. You sure you’re good doin’ it?”

Spencer met your eyes again, giving a small smile as his hold tightened around your hand.

“I am. Tell me what to do.”

“You’re gonna press that yellow button down and yank that top wire out. As soon as it’s out, you do the same thing with the bottom button and bottom wire.”

“That’s it?” Spencer asked in surprise.

“It’s a direct connection trigger,” he said quickly. “Disrupt the connector with the signals and it shuts itself off. As long as he matched the position of the wires with the buttons that’s all it takes.”

You hated to ask, but you needed to.

“What if he didn’t match them up?”

Spencer pressed his lips together; you already knew the answer before Morgan said softly,

“It won’t really matter past that.”

“Right,” you whispered; Spencer went to pull his hand free and you instantly tightened your hold. “I - I can press the buttons for you. Just - please don’t let go.”

Spencer gave you a soft smile and nodded. “I won’t. Here -” he shifted hands briefly and then positioned your free one against the pack, putting your pointer finger on the top button and your middle finger on the bottom button. “Alright. On the count of three.”

“On three,” you agreed. Spencer’s fingers entangled with yours in your lap as his own free hand came up to the wires.

“One,” he said softly. You took a deep breath. “Two...”

You and Spencer locked eyes, giving each other small smiles as you whispered together,

“Three.”

“Miss [y/l/n]?” one of the officers asked, pausing at the back of the ambulance where you were sitting. You glanced up from watching the paramedic wipe off the handful of superficial wounds along your arm as he said, “there’s someone that wanted to speak with you, if that’s okay.”

Your brow furrowed, but you nodded and sat up a bit. The paramedic, taking her cue, murmured something about checking on you in a few minutes before excusing herself into the back of the ambulance, giving you as much privacy as she could.

Curiously, you looked around the busy parking lot; it was packed with police cars, the SWAT van the bomb squad had (now unnecessarily) shown up in, and a handful of black SUV’s. As the bomb squad had escorted you out of the building, you’d locked eye with Shane in the back of one.

The fury on his face seeing you being let out of the vest was something you’d hold onto for a long, long time. His plans had been ruined, all thanks to you - and the handsome FBI agent that came around the corner of the ambulance. You were genuinely surprised to see him - moments after you’d pulled the wires out, the bomb squad had rushed the scene. Spencer as practically swept out of the way, and you’d assumed he and his team had left.

Admittedly, you were really glad he was still here. Like, really glad. With all the life-or-death peril out of the way, you hadn’t stopped thinking about all Spencer had done. He’d stayed with you, against orders, and comforted you with a ticking bomb on your chest. And, instead of taking off when it was getting ready to detonate, he put his life on the line to take a chance at saving yours.

You weren’t a romantic, but come on this was kismet. You couldn’t deny it.

Spencer’s full lips pulled into a wide, honest smile as he took in the sight of you. You couldn’t help but smile back, butterflies fluttering in your chest as he stepped closer.

“I’m glad they got the vest off with no problem,” he told you; free of his own vest he’d been clad in, you couldn’t help take in his outfit. A fitted, dark sweater vest over a dark plaid shirt, and a dark tie pulling it all together. His dress pants fit him illegally well, and the converse peeking out from under them confirmed your suspicions from earlier: he was undoubtedly attractive..

“Yeah, a few scrapes on the way out, but I’m in one piece so I’m not complaining,” you joked, and to your surprise he stepped forward. He was as close to you now as he had been earlier, but this was different. This was Spencer standing crowded up against your legs, leaning over you, hand coming out to take yours.

His fingers curled around yours for just a heartbeat as he lifted your arm, turning it over gently to study the marks. The butterflies surged at his touch, and when he lowered your arm and went to pull away, you quickly grabbed hold of his hand. Spencer’s smile faltered into an unexpected shy turn of his lips as you said softly,

“I can’t thank you enough for what you did. You didn’t have to stay, and you risked your life for me.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said gently, smile quirking a little more; his hand gave a squeeze and he didn’t try to pull away. The feeling of his fingers tangled with yours was a comfort you had never experienced before. Maybe it was because of the whole held-your-hand-through-a-near-death-experience thing, but Spencer was comforting.

He was a shimmer of warmth against the cold night, a breath of calm in the chaos of the last few hours. He was the boat navigating the waves, keeping you afloat, guiding you to the safety you’d been desperate to reach.

In that next breath, you felt the air shift between you and Spencer, a new intensity sparking between the two of you. His soft caramel eyes held you in an unwavering gaze; his fingers intertwined with yours and his grip tightened as he shifted minutely closer.

Normally, you weren’t one to be bold, but hell. After being strapped to a bomb, what was so hard about taking a chance?

“I’d like to try,” you said softly, eyes flicking between his as you slowly leaned forward, giving him the chance to pull away if he wanted to. Instead, Spencer shifted impossibly closer and you took your chance, leaning up and pressing your lips softly to his.

Instantly he kissed you back with a power you hadn’t expected from him. Your lips brushed slowly against one another as his free hand came up, cupping your cheek to hold you in place. Your own hand rested against his chest and he stepped into your touch.

His hand slowly slid back into your hair to pull you against him, silently asking to deepen the kiss. Your tongue swept against his lower lip and his mouth parted instantly, his own tongue darting out and brushing your own. His soft, almost imperceptible moan wasn’t lost on you and you swallowed the noise hungrily.

A horn honked across the parking lot and the two of you jumped back, staring at each other in surprise before dissolving into giggles. You felt your face turn six shades of scarlet as Spencer glanced back towards the black SUV now flashing its lights at the two of you.

“I, uh, I think it’s time to go,” he chuckled, clearing his throat as he finally stepped back and pulled his hand from yours. He was still smiling, though, and he peeked up at you hopefully as he asked, “but um, I don’t live too far from here. And if you wanted, maybe you and I could, you know...”

An idea popped into your head and reached back into the ambulance, grabbing a pen off the clipboard you’d used to fill out some paperwork. You took Spencer’s hand - reveling in the feel of it briefly - and scribbled your number on the back of it.

“If you’re not busy this weekend, I wouldn’t mind some company at the zoo,” you teased, enjoying the grin that took over his face as he nodded quickly. “You and your FBI profiling skills can help me find the animal I want to sponsor.”

“I’d really like that,” he said as he gave you a wide, honest grin, tongue pushing against his teeth as he ducked his head.

Okay, okay. So maybe your parents might’ve had a point. Turns out being polite had gotten you exactly where you wanted to be - on a date with the sweet, undeniably handsome Dr. Spencer Reid.

Next time, though, you could really do without the explosives.

#Spencer Reid #Spencer Reid FanFic #Spencer Reid FanFiction #Spencer Reid Imagine #Spencer Reid Angst #Spencer Reid x Reader #Spencer Reid x you #Spencer Reid x y/n #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Imagines #criminal minds self insert #Spencer Reid Self Insert #Dr. Spencer Reid #Imagines #angst #fluff #female reader #spencer reid x female reader

814 notes · View notes

georgiaswarr · 4 years ago

Text

lister bird - part 1 (part 2)

this is me trying - taylor swift

“they told me all of my cages were mental / so i got wasted like all my potential” starting this playlist off with a song that i feel definitely will come to describe lister’s mental state, especially during iana - he’s fallen behind, he’s dependent on partying and drinking, but at least he’s trying to get better

still learning - halsey

this song incorporates a fuckton of lister’s struggles - the pressures of fame, trauma, dealing with past mistakes, of course self-loathing, and much more

timebomb - finish ticket

and another self-deprecating tune !!! this one in particular addresses the connection between drinking/alcoholism and feeling like a fuck-up

the key to life on earth - declan mckenna

i could probably go into great depths to explain how exactly this is a lister song but suffice it to say, lister grew up poor and we mustn’t forget that. “holy smokes / you kids and your jokes / asking where we got our jeans / and where the hell we found our coats” reminds me a lot of meeting lister, him getting into fights and being “held back for after-school meetings”, etc.

new age meds - the wldlfe

“self-deprecation; / a new age medication / and you might need some therapy if / you're gonna live your life suffocating / someone who you're supposed to be” here we have the theme of self-hate again, used in connection with drugs and addiction, too, which is very lister

are you satisfied? - marina

another song highjacked from @kindaorangey, they did a better job than i ever could explaining it here

knock me off my feet - soak

“saturday night on the highest wall / settin' 'em off, all 50 fireworks / kickin' the cannons, we watch them fall / it doesn't exist, the law” lister starts living the high, indulgent life once he gets rich, which is a stark contrast from how he grew up. in the end, though, he still has people he can call his home.

narcissist - no rome

“stayin' late, i just wanna get stoned / telling all your friends that I'm never at home / and my face filling up with blood / but you're still the same living like a bourgeois” highjacked from alice’s 5 playlist, another song about partying and the like but also being painfully aware of your own flaws

big black car - gregory alan isakov

a song about feeling inadequate and worthless compared to another person, which is how lister feels about himself compared to jimmy and rowan

eventually, darling - declan mckenna

abandonment issues, lost hope, impostor syndrome, disillusionment and an almost nihilistic view on a relationship - this song has it all. i personally associate it with bicci and lister reassuring both jimmy and himself that it’s okay if he doesn’t like him back - after all, “everyone leaves eventually, darling”

swimming pools - lxandra

lister grew up poor and we mustn’t forget that part 2 - this is another flashback to his childhood, while simultaneously showing the stark contrast to his current life - i like to interpret the line “still the kids who don't have swimming pools / in their 40-million-square-feet mansions, ooh” in a “yeah, he’s rich, but he still came from almost no money and this has had a profound effect on him” way

mind - declan mckenna

according to declan mckenna himself, this song “makes me think of my friend matty’s party i went to on halloween 2015 after playing a show […] the song lyrically and artiscally kind of reflects the confused mess of my 16 year old self”. this is something lister can probably relate to, feeling emotional turmoil and an incoming existential crisis while partying

joan of arc on the dance floor - aly & aj

“at the stake, we don't fight the flames / are you born in vain if you die a savior?” first of all, joan of FUCKING arc metaphors, second of all the death motif and lister’s “die young” mentality, third of all another dark party song which is how this applies to lister in particular

why do you feel so down - declan mckenna

listerowan song !!! “i think you're one of a kind so i'll never like myself / i think you're older and wiser so i won't let you tell / i think it over and over and hope you're thinking too / i think it over and over and hope i'm over you” because angst

know me - the band camino

and yet another angsty listerowan song, gosh i’m really making myself emo over here

18 forever - maris

a) such a bisexual anthem, b) a song about partying and feeling forever young

house party no. 1 - blossom caldarone

“you want to grow up too fast / it's a race to see who is left last / from lemons to liquor to loving each figure / you're constantly wired up the wrong way / you'll be dead in a year if i wait one more day”. this is how jimmy and rowan see lister, as a party-obsessed “rebel without a cause”

sedated - hozier

a song about addiction and self-destruction. i could probably go through every line of it but imma keep it short and just trust all of you to understand the sheer levels and poetry of sedated by hozier as a lister song

shadows - ruth b

another song from jimmy and rowan’s perspective - they see that lister indulges in a lot of self-destructive behaviour, smoking, drinking, having sex, etc. in the first part of iwbft, they notice all of that in an almost accusatory way, which to me feels like the tone of this song - “kiss yourself another stranger / ‘cause you know you love the danger, don't you? / give yourself to someone new every night, is what you do” for example is them thinking he sleeps with everyone with a pulse

burning incense - skott

i talk about lister and his relationship to religion in greater depth in part 2 with preacher man but i think that theme appears in this song too. generally this song is very much about emotional turmoil, feeling unloved and distant from your friends, and feeling worthless, so very much a lister song

those nights - bastille

theme of loneliness and finding comfort in strangers (which i know lister doesn’t really do anymore but still)

sunday morning - matoma

“i probably shouldn't say this / should keep it all inside / but maybe i'm just wasted / enough to speak my mind” bicci bathroom confession??? anyone????

love like ghosts - lord huron

another beautiful bicci song about unrequited love and feeling so incredibly strongly for someone that it feels beyond the realm of the living - that’s also where the theme of death in iwbft comes in, which lister grapples with in particular

high hopes - kodaline

this song makes me think of the confession scene too - lister realising jimmy maybe doesn’t like him back, losing hope and all that, and deciding he needs to move on

mirrorball - taylor swift

theme of personas - lister has the Lister Bird persona which is there to entertain people, to make himself appear fun, aloof, approachable, almost like a clown, even though that isn’t who he actually is deep inside

much like myself - emma jayne

and another song about appearing happy on the outside despite the fact that you don’t feel much like yourself

#gonna break this up into two parts because holy shit my playlists are LONG #lister bird #osemanverse playlist #playlist #iwbft #em’s fuckery #alcohol tw #addiction tw #death tw #drugs tw #smoking tw

63 notes · View notes

square-blunt · 3 years ago

Text

You're in my heart, in my heart, in my head.

chapter two fucking finally. take it. fucking take it.

TW- MCD (major character death), suicide, like the fic ends in suicide and it's not good. Angst. there is so much angst-

WC: 2034 Ao3: :) First chapter: :)

Jimmy didn’t tear his eyes away from Scott once.

After they got ripped apart, all the neurons in his body were screaming at him to stop struggling and to go limp- he could feel the muscle in his back ripping apart but he had to. He didn’t feel the physical pain. But his heart was hammering so hard and he was screaming much louder than he thought was possible- screaming to Scott, praying and hoping that he could hear him over Joey- and maybe he did.

Because Scott never stopped looking at him.

And then, Scott smiled at him.

It was sweet, and weak, and it was tired. It should have been full of life, but instead- Scott used all his energy to give Jimmy that smile. It was sickeningly comforting- Scott, who was about to be sacrificed, about to have a knife through his heart- was comforting him, and Jimmy couldn’t sob any louder. He knows his screams and sobs and pleas won’t do anything to stop the inevitable. But with a sound that Jimmy will never be able to get out of his head, the inevitable comes to fruition. As the knife falls, Jimmy does too. The hooks that held onto his back retract and Jimmy crashes to the ground, rocks cutting into his hands. Part of him is grateful that he fell when he did. Whatever higher power was looking out for him must not have wanted him to see the knife going into Scott’s chest.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t imagine it.

As soon as he hits the ground he looks back up, just in time for Joey and Xornoth to disappear into smoke, and for the obsidian altar to crumble into dust- and Scott's body to roll off. Jimmy catches sight of Scott's limp hand and he turns away, holding his side, trying not to throw up.

He focuses on that.

Trying to keep the contents of his stomach down, swallowing thickly, he focuses on the burn of his head, his throat, and his heart.

His heart hurts.

It hurts more than any weapon could ever come close to inflicting.

After looking at Scott for so long, promising himself that he'd never look away, it's funny that now he physically can't bear to look up.

It's because Scott was alive then.

And now he, and possibly everyone else, is dead.

But he can't stop himself from crawling, very painfully, over to Scott. Only then does he notice how much blood there is. His, Scott's, it doesn’t matter- or it did.

Because Scott's blood should have stayed in his body.

Why didn't Jimmy speak up?

Xornoth had told Jimmy everything.

Their plan, why they were doing it- how they knew it was going to work.

They told Jimmy about a past life- a past three lives to be exact. And Jimmy remembered. It was like Xornoth had a key that finally gave Jimmy what he knew he was missing. And of course, he had fallen in love with Scott.

Of course, it was Scott.

Of course, it was Scott who came to his rescue. Everything else was a blur, of pain and hurt, but the kiss. Jimmy knew he had to. He had to let Scott know that he knew- that he remembered.

It was worth every second.

And even now he can feel the phantom of Scott's lips on his own, Scott's hair between his fingers, he can feel it more than the dull throbbing of his heart and his back. Physical pain couldn't reach him, his mind was already too busy imploding on itself to register anything else.

He feels the phantom of Scott's warm hand in his own.

He reaches out and takes his cold, real hand again.

Jimmy brushes away the dust and the blood, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles, and he stops at the ring finger. There's a simple silver band.

Jimmy spawned into Empires with a matching gold ring.

Only now does he know why.

He gently slips the ring off Scott's finger. He knows he shouldn't, but if it's all he can have of Scott- he's gonna take whatever he can get.

He moves up, noticing the detail on the sleeve of Scott's shirt. He wasn't wearing anything fancy, but he was still the most beautiful living thing Jimmy had ever seen. Scott had been wearing a sky blue t-shirt and brown pants- one could die in a more regal manner, but Scott still looked more amazing than any star in the night, any bird in the air… any flower in the field.

"It felt right," Jimmy says, voice unrecognizable even to himself. It only makes him cry more. Scott was his everything- Scott completed him. And Jimmy doesn't know who he is without Scott. He knew he was one half of a whole but didn’t know whose half, and now he has to live as a half without his other.

His communicator buzzes.

He doesn't care.

It's probably a death message.

He hopes Xornoth won't torture his family the way they did his lover.

He knows they probably did.

It buzzes again.

He grips Scott's hand tighter, maybe if he squeezes hard enough, it'll squeeze back.

Please, please, squeeze back.

Jimmy takes a deep breath.

At least Scott's eyes are closed.

His communicator buzzes again.

He still doesn't care.

He thought he'd be more distraught.

Looking down at Scott, his perfect, sleeping face, he thought he’d be screaming at the skies, clawing at his heart- trying to scratch the pain away, but he’s not. He should be mad, he should be trying to find Joey, at least, and hurt him as much as he had been hurt, but he’s not. He should have tried to swap back, but he knew his life wasn’t the end goal. He should be crying, letting the tears wash away all of the dust and dirt and blood but he’s not. He’s not doing any of it.

His communicator buzzes.

He’s holding Scott’s hand.

He’s holding Scott’s face.

He’s kissing his forehead.

He’s smoothing out his hair.

His communicator buzzes.

He notices Scott’s necklace, and that’s when he cries.

It’s a gold poppy flower- crudely made, rushed, unpolished, it was something Jimmy made. Jimmy himself was crudely made, rushed, and unpolished, so it makes sense that anything he made would be too.

His communicator buzzes.

He had given it to Scott a few hours before they arrived on the battlefield and Scott spent the next minutes staring at it while Jimmy got some things together.

Jimmy spent those minutes staring at him.

And then he died and lost everything.

Scott’s his everything.

And he’s lost it again.

His communicator buzzes.

He cradles Scott's head in his lap, staring down into his face.

He closes his eyes.

The ground under him changes. Rocks stop digging into his knees, and instead, there's soft wool. The smell of dirt and blood is replaced with clean linen and firewood.

What's worse, he can't feel Scott in his hands anymore.

Jimmy's eyes snap open.

His communicator buzzes one last time.

He's kneeling on cyan and yellow carpet, this must be somewhere in Rivendell. But it feels suffocating. It feels wrong.

Jimmy looks up and sees why.

Outside the windows the sky is red- this really is the end of the world. But the elephant in the room is that Xornoth is standing right in front of him. One of the last living things on this planet. Jimmy doesn't give them the victory of meeting their gaze.

"Codfather, Solidarity, sweet swamp boy- you hold many titles, don't you, Jimmy?" Xornoth says, manic glee in their voice. It makes Jimmy want to throw up.

"Just kill me. Please." Jimmy whispers, pain raw in his voice.

"No. I won't kill you, and you can blame your beloved Scott. The whole "can’t hurt you" condition in his heroic sacrifice doesn't feel heroic now, does it?" Xornoth looms over him, a shit-eating sneer of terrifying joy on their face. “Besides, why would I kill you? You were the key to the lock, the final piece to the puzzle, the gear that made this entire plan work- I should be thanking you. None of this could have happened if you weren’t there. He would still be alive if it weren’t for you- they all are dead because of you. Thank you, Jimmy. You seem to be often thanked for causing things that you stand against in the end. But that’s the way of life, is it not? People taking advantage of you for one reason or another, and then rubbing it in your face when they use you to get what they want. But don’t worry, no one will ever be able to use you again. Isn’t that what you wanted? You were pushed around by everyone, and now both you and I are free.”

“I’m nothing like you,” Jimmy says, maybe if he pisses them off enough they’ll just kill him anyway.

“No, you’re not. I am powerful, you are pitiful. I am armageddon, you are a disappointment. If death is theater, then I am Shakespeare, and you are a prop, a pawn. You were meant as something to be used. I was trying to offer a hand because as much as you hate yourself for it, you were the only reason why this plan worked. But if you insist on continuing to pretend that you have even a sliver of honor left then I will leave you to rot. But I promised not to lay a hand on you. In hindsight, not being able to kill you might have actually been a bad thing. See my plan was, Jimmy, I was going to kill you after all this, but your death would be instant and painless, but it seems that Scott has fucked something else over for everyone else. I was going to show you mercy, I wouldn’t torture you with a long and painful death or make you watch as- well, I guess I already did that, huh.” And they laughed . They laughed and laughed like it was the funniest thing in the crumbling world. They laughed at Jimmy, at his pain, it echoed off the walls of the dying church, sucking the last good out of the air to fuel the hysteric voice of insane victory.

Jimmy’s hope was flooding out with it.

Xornoth snaps their fingers, still laughing, and the world around Jimmy changes again, soft carpet to hardwood floors, still air to blistering wind- he's in his alliance tower.

He takes the heads down without looking at them, he can't bear to look.

He goes straight down the tower without looking.

It's a good thing he didn't.

He would have seen the bodies of everyone- ally and enemy- swinging from the rafters.

At the bottom of the ladder, he finds a rope of his own.

He doesn't even question it.

He silently finds a nearby tree and gets to work.

The Empire is deathly quiet- even the wind has died out.

He feels eyes. They're watching him. It feels familiar- watching a final soul end it all after everyone he knows is long gone.

He finishes the knot, throws the other end up and over the tree to tie it off.

He decides to build his own gallows as well.

Three blocks should be tall enough.

He puts the noose over his head like a medal- a winner's medal. That's what he was.

He won.

He takes the step.

And he's back in Scott's arms.

Finally.

#gremfics #empires #empires smp #flower husbands #flower husbands angst #suicide tw #scott smajor #he's fucking dead everybody dead #solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #solidarity gaming #sweet swamp boy #i hate writing

19 notes · View notes

chaolie · 4 years ago

Text

Hands you 3.5k words of Robin angst no one ever asked for

I shall now go back to being absent and sitting there with 10 WIPs I really want to finish but just CAN'T- Anyway, have fun with the angst!

Warnings: Character death & blood

=============================

Robin’s life wasn't too easy at first, and it was painfully obvious to see. Even his earliest memory was bad, after all. He was peacefully lying in his bed, half-asleep when his father walked into his room and gently sat down on the boy’s bed. The man was trembling slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by the kid. They sat in silence for what felt like forever before the adult turned to look at Robin.

“Robin…” he said the boy’s name softly, but his voice was hoarse. Slowly, the kid sat up and rubbed his eyes before focusing on his father again. “Your mother… she won’t be coming back anytime soon, son. She’s…” the man paused for a moment, collecting himself. “If Jimmy bothered to find a real doctor, she’d… She’s not here anymore, Robin.”

The man looked over to his son, a young child who should not remember this moment in the future. He watched the confused boy rub his hands, not knowing what to say and probably not understanding what the man meant. Again, it felt like ages has passed before the man got up and gently pushed the kid back onto his bed.

“Go back to sleep and don’t worry about this,” he said. He was sure Robin would forget this conversation soon. But he didn’t. Somehow, the memory stuck with him, even if he didn’t get it at first. Because he was just a kid, he didn’t know what death was, he didn’t know where his mother went, he didn’t know why his father grew so grim after that night, he didn’t know anything… but as time went on, he learned. He slowly pieced the story together and figured out what dying meant long before a child should. Years passed and once again, the boy lied in his bed and tried to fall asleep when his father walked in and hesitated before sitting in the very same spot he picked when announcing his wife’s death. This time Robin didn’t wait before sitting up and looking at him. The man sighed before putting a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Robin, I… Dad’s going away for some time,” he said, avoiding eye contact with him.

“...Why?” the boy asked hesitantly.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back soon, I promise,” the man said. Robin knew better than to ask more questions.

“Okay,” he nodded.

And just like the other night, the man got up and tucked his son into bed again. Robin watched helplessly as the man left the room before curling up under the covers. Little did he know, this was the last time he ever got to see his father. Only the next day he found out that he left to fight a war and only next month he learned that the battle was won, but at the cost of his father’s life.

During that week of blissful unawareness, the boy took up medicine. He was worried that his father would be injured when he gets back and he remembered well the man complaining about the lack of doctors in the village. He went around, learning from everyone willing to talk. He learned about different plants from Jack, the local farmer, and he memorized different medicines and more expensive ways of helping hurt people with the help of Miles Memeington, who was rich enough to afford books about those topics. Cornelious, his neighbor, also explained how to aid hurt people in everyday activities, basing his knowledge on his own experiences with his blind partner, so Robin felt ready to help his father through whatever happened to him during the war.

Only to find out that he’d never return.

He survived a surprising amount of time as an orphan. He had no source of money, of food, of clean water, of clothes, of… anything, really, but he still managed to get through it. He stole from the local people, he taught himself how to make clothes out of old sheets, and he had his medical knowledge in case he’d ever get hurt. He even survived the winter, spending most of the time either in his house, just barely keeping himself warm, or at his neighbors’ place when things got too cold and they insisted to house him for the nights at least. Sure, he lost a lot of weight during that time of the year, but he was still alive, and that was all that counted.

When spring came and the weather got warm again, he admittedly grew more careless. It was one less thing to worry about, he could finally play outside again, and he took that opportunity. He almost felt like a kid again, a hint of a smile appeared on his face for the first time in forever and he almost laughed to himself until he tripped and fell, hitting a couple of stones.

His knee was suddenly covered in blood and he was in pain, with no parent to come over, pick him up and cover it for him. He had to slowly pull himself up and stumble back to the town on his own. He had no bandages left either, no way to stop the bleeding on his own. But he knew who always had medicine, Miles. Arguably, the man was able to afford more than the mayor himself sometimes, and if he just wanted to become a doctor instead of a ‘steak censor’ he easily could, but Robin had no say in this.

After he decided to ‘borrow some things’ from the man, everything happened fast. Just moments after opening the chest, he was held up by his collar. Then, he was outside, dragged over to the fireplace. Suddenly, all the town’s folk were there and everyone was arguing and yelling. He tried to explain himself, but his quiet voice was nothing against the angry people’s ears and his words disappeared somewhere, buried under the accusations everyone threw at him.

When everything was quiet again, he stood in front of the prison cell with just the mayor behind him. He knew well what that thing really was, how with a simple pull of the lever the floor disappeared and people died. He watched his father and Bob build it together, and against his old man’s wishes he snuck out and witnessed the first execution himself, he knew what would come next.

Slowly, Jimmy led him forward and helped him to keep balance, with his hurt knee still not taken care of, until he made it past the door into the tiny room. It was even smaller than the orphan originally imagined. Sure, it looked tiny from the outside, but looking at the whole world through iron bars made it feel far, far smaller.

“So…” the mayor said quietly, trying to act casual. Still, putting a literal kid in the prison was probably the worst thing he ever had to do so far. “H-how does it feel in there, boy? How do you feel?” the man asked hesitantly. He had no idea that Robin knew what the building was, he just hoped to have a normal conversation before he’d have to pull the lever.

Robin backed up into a corner of the cell, hugging himself and leaning against the wall to take some pressure off his leg. He didn’t dare look the mayor in the eyes as he shuddered, biting back tears. He didn’t want to cry, but he was so scared, so goddamn scared…

“I-it’s nice,” he muttered, his voice breaking. “I- I feel closer to my parents,” he tried to force a smile. Hearing that answer made the mayor freeze. That poor child… Jimmy didn’t even close the door yet when someone approached him from behind, clearing their throat to get the mayor’s attention. Quickly, the man turned around and looked at the person behind him… Cornelius. For a moment, he considered explaining why the door was still open, but before he could even excuse himself, the newly-arrived man spoke.

“You don’t have to do it, Jimmy. We reached an agreement with Miles, the kid can stay,” he said. He spoke confidently and the mayor didn’t even consider the idea of the man bluffing.

“...Stay, and go where exactly?” he asked instead of arguing. Maybe because he trusted the man, maybe because he really didn’t want to kill a child.

“He’ll go with me for now,” the man answered. The mayor just nodded before stepping back into the cell and helping the trembling boy out of it. Robin was terrified, here at least he knew what would happen.

“Do what Cornelius tells you to, Robin,” Jimmy instructed, stepping back to close the empty jail and leaving the child at the other man’s mercy.

“Hey, Robin,” Cornelius said in a surprisingly soft tone, crouching down to get to the boy’s level. The kid just looked at him, still trembling. “It’s okay. Just come with me,” he said, gently taking the boy’s hand and getting back up to lead him.

Robin was filled with nothing but fear as he stumbled after the man. They walked slowly, so his knee didn’t hurt that much, but the suspense made the boy’s stomach turn as he wondered where he was being taken to. He always thought that his neighbors liked him to at least a degree, but now that he was probably about to die, he seriously doubted that idea. Finally, they reached their destination. Cornelius’ house.

“I’m home,” the man called out as he opened the door, leading the orphan inside. The house was dark, so it took the boy a moment to notice the man’s partner sitting on the bed in the corner. “With Robin,” Cornelius added.

“That’s great,” the blind man answered with a soft smile. “Robin, can you come here?” he asked, holding his hand out. The boy looked up at Cornelius, who nodded as an answer.

“Go ahead,” he said, letting go of his hand. Slowly, Robin stumbled over and took the other man’s hand. “You two stay here, I need to talk to Miles again,” the man said once Robin made it over to the bed and, with no further explanations, left the house.

“Do you want to sit down?” the blind man offered once his partner left. Hesitantly, Robin nodded.

“Y-yes, please. My knee hurts,” he answered faintly. The man helped him up onto the bed before getting up and walking to the other side of the house and grabbing some cloth. He knew exactly where it was, luckily.

“Others told me you were hurt. Do you know how to cover the wound with that?” he asked, handing the boy the cloth. The child took it into his trembling hands and looked it over.

“Y-yes, thank you,” he muttered, quickly getting to work. The man smiled, sitting back down next to him and patiently waiting. “...W-what will happen to me?” Robin asked once he was done. The man turned to him with a confused expression.

“Did Cornelius not tell you?” he asked. Robin shook his head.

“N-no, he just said he made a deal w-with Mr. Memeington. I-I don’t know what t-they agreed to do,” he stuttered out. The man nodded slowly with a faint smile.

“Okay, I can explain it to you, then. We agreed to buy the supplies you touched and pay him more than usual, in exchange he promised to drop the topic and forget what you did,” the man said as if it was a normal thing. But no, it was not a normal thing, it was unimaginable, especially for Robin.

“...Why?” the boy asked slowly. What did they want in exchange from him? He had nothing…

“Well, I and my partner are growing concerned about you, Robin. So we decided that you should be staying with us, for now at least,” the man explained. Once again, his words felt out of this world and Robin wondered if this was all a dream.

“...So you’re… a-adopting me…?” he asked quietly. The man smiled upon hearing that.

“You could say so, yes. Are you okay with us doing so?” he asked. Robin nodded so quickly and eagerly that the bed moved slightly as he did.

“I-I am! I…!” he answered quickly, as if he was afraid that they’d change their minds.

“It’s settled, then. Welcome home, son,” the man said. Those words were like a melody, like a promise of a better tomorrow, and boy was it better.

Robin stayed with his new parents for a little over a year, and he looked far better than before. He wasn’t going around hungry and dirty anymore, he had new, pretty clothes and a beaming smile on his face. He still avoided some people, especially Miles, but he was clearly recovering and finally, he was a kid again. A kid with two loving parents and with a home filled with love. It still felt like a dream sometimes, but he was too happy to care. He just wished he could have this life forever…

As the spring was coming to an end and the summer almost began, his parents allowed him to stay in his old house again. The buildings weren’t too far from each other and Robin really enjoyed cleaning it up and re-decorating it, so they saw no reason to stop him. He was a growing kid too, so he needed more space. And after over a year, he finally trusted that the couple wouldn’t leave him in his sleep so he felt safe staying a house over as well. Just a week after he moved there, he was woken up by a commotion near the well.

“Who could ever do that?!”

“How did this happen?!”

“Oh god, so much blood…”

“Did anyone see anything?!”

The boy quickly dressed himself before joining the crowd and trying to make sense of their yelling. At first, he thought it feels better when they aren’t yelling at him, but just moments later he saw his blind father in the middle of the gathering, his head down in shame and blood on his hands.

“T-they killed him right in front of me, but… but they said nothing. I don’t know who…” he said quietly. As Robin walked closer, he noticed something else. Bloodied and still, there lied his other dad, resting on the covers he must’ve been carried over on. He wasn’t breathing and didn’t show any signs of life, but the blood on his chest seemed fresh. Still unnoticed by anyone else, Robin stumbled over to him and grabbed his hand, his limp and bloodied hand. The hand that usually tucked him to sleep or playfully ruffled his hair was suddenly growing colder, and it felt… wrong.

“...Dad?” he said faintly, still expecting an answer.

Those quiet words were enough to get someone to notice him, and just like that things got as fast as the day he got caught stealing. Some of the questions and accusations were now thrown in his direction as he backed away, trembling already.

“His hands are bloodied too!” someone, he truly didn’t catch it, yelled.

“I- I just got here-” he tried to explain himself, but everyone was accusing him already.

“Lay off, the kid did nothing wrong!” he could hear his father arguing, but his statement was lost somewhere in the argument.“Someone had to do it!”

“He’s just a kid!”

“Maybe they worked together?!”

“He knows medicine, he surely knows how to kill!”

“Why did you kill him?!”

Accusations were thrown around and suddenly, there he was, in front of the jail again, side-to-side with his father, the only living one. People were still arguing as Robin found himself leaning against the only father figure he had left. The blind man’s hand found its way to his shoulder and his ever-so-gentle voice reached the child’s ears.

“You’ll be fine, Robin. You’ll be okay,” he said, and even though he wasn’t too certain of that, at least he sounded confident. And the boy believed him, he took those words to his heart and trusted them.

“A-are you sure?” he stuttered out. The man nodded.

“I am. I promise, nothing will happen to you.” And just a minute later, they were torn from each others’ sides. And what are an orphan and his blind parental figure against a village filled with people drove feral by fear? What are the little boy’s pleas against their deaf ears? Nothing, nothing at all, so Robin could do nothing as he watched his father being pushed into the small room with the doors closed right behind him. And suddenly, all the sounds felt far away from him.

Suddenly, no one was holding him back and he found himself at the jail’s door, reaching through the bars and crying. Did he break free or did they let him go? He didn’t know and didn’t care. His father somehow found his way to the bars and took his hand, rubbing it gently. Despite everything, the man was smiling through his tears.

“You’ll be okay, Robin,” he said again. And suddenly, he fell through the floor. Robin heard him scream, but the sound soon went quiet. Everything went quiet, actually. Everyone stopped their arguing to watch the small orphaned child stare at where his last parental figure just stood. And some of the villagers felt shame. Some tried to approach him, some tried to get him away from the prison, but he just wouldn’t budge. He stayed in his place, staring. Why would he go anywhere, after all? He just had everything taken from him.

He spent the whole day there and he slept leaning against the cold iron door of the jail that night. He barely moved from his spot. In the morning, the blood on his hands dried and so did most of his tears. Throughout the night, no one left their house, it was only him outside, no one got attacked or hurt, so… why did everyone approach him again?

“Nobody died… Was he here all night?”

“The wounds on Cornelius’ body… two people must’ve done it.”

“It was him and his father, wasn’t it?”

“He was left with no one to help him kill, no wonder he’s so scared!”

“Once he recovers, he’ll kill again, won’t he?!”

“Of course he will!”

“We need to execute him before he can kill us all!”

Why was everyone yelling? Why wouldn’t they leave him alone? He didn’t hurt anybody, he knew that, Robin knew that… When everyone got quieter, the mayor knelt down in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder, getting his attention.

“Robin. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” the man asked. Slowly, the boy shook his head. He didn’t want to talk anymore, to anyone.

In a flash, he was inside the jail, everyone watching him through the bars and the door. Just like a year earlier, he hugged himself and avoided eye contact. Some people tried to pressure him into admitting to the crime he didn’t commit, and some tried to comfort him. But among all the voices speaking to him, one question stood out.

“How does it feel?” the mayor asked. This time he didn’t sound sad or merciful, he sounded angry… Robin looked up and dared to lock eyes with the older man. And just like his father, he smiled through the tears.

“...I feel the closest to my parents I’ve ever been,” he answered. And just like last time, the statement was shattering to hear, but Jimmy didn’t even get to consider letting the boy go, because someone already pulled the leaver.

And just like that, it was over.

The villagers quickly left, and by the next dawn, just two people were left standing. Two murderers who, by killing just one more person that night, managed to outnumber the other villagers. And with no one left, Jack and Bob left the city in rush, hoping to be away before anyone finds the village they singlehandedly destroyed.

A week or so later, someone strangely familiar found it, empty, silent, and abandoned. They soon found the mayor’s notes and from them found out about how their partner and son the local blind man and the orphan were both executed after being accused of causing his Cornelius’ death. And that’s all they needed to know before leaving the town as well, to never look back.

Robin’s life never got easier, had it?

#dream smp #unnamed catboy #cornelius tvtwm #unnamed catboy tvtwm #robin #robin tvtwm #cornelius #the village that went mad #dream #smp dream #smp #tvtwm #BTW this is also posted to ao3 in case anybody wondered #And I swear I'm working on other fics too but this just came to me and took away half of my day

57 notes · View notes

kkodzvken · 3 years ago

Note

luuuune can u give music recs? the songs your fics are named after are all so good

grouping these all together bc most of my inspiration does come from music!! usually, my ideas start w a general vibe or “spark”, and then i flesh it out from there. the spark normally comes from music, but sometimes it’s a book i’m reading, or a conversation i had, or just random things (for example, i saw some flowers earlier this week that gave me an idea for a dabi fic KDHFJSK). i usually pick one song and loop it while i’m writing bc otherwise the variety gets too distracting lol

recs under the cut!! i went pop -> kpop -> punk/emo/alt

to start out w, everyone and their mom recommends chase atlantic lmao but they r just SO GOOD !! and the vibes r so sexy and give me so much angst inspo skfjdkskw

songs: slide, like a rockstar, lust, consume, i never existed. the don’t try this ep is my favorite, and i’m writing a dabihawks punk band au inspired by it!!

i also listen to the weeknd (trilogy), khalid, sza and kehlani (their latest album, it was good until it wasn’t, is a fucking masterpiece) a lot while writing!!

one of my faves is shinee, specifically jonghyun and taemin’s solo albums (ot5 until i die, but their solo music is sexy and sets the ~mood~ for writing smut lmao). i gave some jjong rec’s in the tags of this post!!

taemin songs: heaven, love and pansy hurt my heart. thirsty, criminal, famous, and sexuality are hoe songs lmao

speaking of shinee, i like other kpop as well!! bts are forever my number #1 (hyyh is one of my favorite albums ever — so bittersweet, makes me painfully nostalgic). also looove monsta x !! tomorrow x together, stray kids and ateez are also great. mamamoo r the only girl group that i like, i just can’t vibe w a lot of gg concepts skfjfjsj (although i do like a few soloists)

a lot of people stan kpop just for the idols but i do like the music a lot!!

txt: ghosting, blue hour, drama (the japanese music video is haikyuu concept lmao), our summer

monsta x: middle of the night, nobody else, gasoline (the title is in hangul so you can’t look it up specifically on streaming services, but it’s the second song on the fatal love album), last carnival, blind, my beast, turbulence (again, hangul title, but it’s track 7 on take.2 we are here)

i also recommend solo albums/mixtapes of the monsta x members!! joohoney’s psyche, i.m’s duality, and wonho’s two eps!!

and speaking of solo work, all of the bts rapline have amazing solo mixtapes. i love their group music that’s hype w heavy concepts/production/choreo (ot7 always), but the mixtapes hold a special place in my heart because they feel so ...intimate, almost? like a piece of their hearts that they’re sharing with the world. rm’s mono is the definition of comfort. j-hope’s hope world is lots of fun, but he just released the extended version of blue side, and it’s absolutely heartbreaking (and reminds me a lot of touya lol). and agust d... listen, i love him more than words can say, so his mixtapes d-2 and self-titled, along w the other song’s he’s solo produced like eight by iu, are very special to me.

i’m not majorly into skz/ateez/mamamoo like i am w the other groups, but they’re all amazing performers so i recommend checking out their comeback + awards show stages!!

i also really love eAeon, he’s a korean indie artist, and his music is breathtaking. he just dropped an album called fragile that’s i adore, the lead single don’t features rm of bts and is unbelievably beautiful.

okay that’s all good and fun but the majority of what i listen to is emo shit lmfaoo i’m definitely more into alt + punk music, here are some of my fave bands and fave songs from them!!

blood command: they are unreal i love them SO MUCH!! they’re a norwegian punk rock band w a female singer, return of the arsonist ep is when i got into them and it’s golden. no thank you i’m more into fake grindcore, saturday city, white skin/tanned teeth, and alarm all assassins are some of their best songs imo

dance gavin dance: listen... their music scratches a certain itch in my brain that makes me go insane akdjfjsk they’ve had a bunch of different lineups but the more recent albums with tillian and jon on vocals are my favorites (jonny craig can suck my dick, fuck that dude). lost, son of robot, bloodsucker, young robot, inspire the liars, jesus h. macy are all great. acceptance speech, man of the year, and evaporate make me cry/lose my mind

mannequin pussy: *chefs kiss* drunk ii is a masterpiece, i cried to that shit every day after a break up, so cathartic. cream and kiss are more upbeat, and their latest song perfect is also vv good!!! patience is a beautiful, emotional album, whereas romantic and self titled have more classic alt bops

G.L.O.S.S.: listen, theyre so fucking cool, and i respect the hell out of them. they only released a few songs before disbanding but i’ll cherish those songs until i die. they perfectly embody what punk should be. demo 2015 is on streaming services, and their second and final ep trans day of revenge can easily be found online!!

wow this is getting fucking LONG so i’ll just quickly list a few more, but this was so fun, i love talking ab music!! pls don’t be shy, i’m always down to give more recs or hear about the stuff that u like!!

movements, yonaka, shiny wet machine, real friends, skating polly, nova twins, the japanese house, bratmobile, yours truly. and, ofc, the pop punk staples: jimmy eat world, paramore, waterparks, stand atlantic, neck deep, the story so far, etc etc !!

#🌘.anon #fun fact i almost went to a mannequin pussy show w my ex #like ... after we broke up #i was rlly gonna go w him to see them play the song that made me think of him and cry my eyes out LMFAOOOO #it was. a moment of weakness . i am not that person anymore #yeah but like #the music i listen to while writing and the music i listen to in general r very different #i have to listen to more lowkey vibe music while writing #otherwise i’ll get too into it and forget what i’m supposed to be doing lmao #i’m sorry for how long this list got omfg i got carried away

8 notes · View notes

boldlygo-boldlygoing-boldlygone · 4 years ago

Text

And We Do It All Again - Chapter 2

Summary: Jim has two big problems right now. The first is that he is hopelessly in love with his First Officer and his Chief Medical Officer, and neither seems to return his feelings. The second is that he’s stuck in a time loop where his ship is destroyed and his crew killed, over and over again.

Things can never be simple for James T. Kirk, can they?

Warnings: angst, (temporary) character death, swearing, time loops, suicide attempt in a later chapter (again, it’s in a time loop so it doesn’t really work)

Pairing: McSpirk

Chapter 2 of 7

Previous Next

A/N: Can also be read here on AO3!

Jim thrashed, legs tangling in his sheets, and ended up on the floor, clutching his chest and sucking in breath. Panicked, he kicked off the sheets and stumbled to his feet.

It was only when he realized he wasn't being sucked into the emptiness of space that he paused.

He stood in his room, blinking and taking deep, plentiful breaths. With a shaky hand, he glanced at the clock. Seeing the date, he exhaled deeply. A dream. It had only been a dream. His eyes turned, pausing on the chess board and glasses. A shiver ran up his spine.

Just a dream.

He rushed through his routine that morning, unwilling to admit even to himself that his hands shook a tad. Seeing them would help, he decided, and the sooner he got to see them, the sooner he'd feel better. Once he was dressed, he headed for the mess hall, trying to keep his face relaxed. Something caught in his chest when Spock was seated in the exact place he'd been in his dream, reading, but Jim pushed it away. Spock sat in roughly the same place every day. And he liked to be productive, so the PADD wasn't strange either. Still, he knew he was tense as he sat across from his First Officer.

"Good morning, captain."

"Morning, Spock."

"Our match last night was quite riveting. Your skill is improving."

Jim blinked, mouth going dry. He just knew Spock well. This wasn't weird, it didn't mean anything. "Thanks, Spock. Glad you had a good time."

The corner of Spock's mouth flickered down. "Are you well, Jim? You seem startled by my comment and you are, as Dr. McCoy says, fidgeting."

"No, I'm okay. Just had a weird dream." Jim threw his friend a reassuring smile and allowed himself to lightly touch his First Officer's forearm. Hands were a whole thing for Vulcans, he knew that, but a forearm should be okay. Besides, the contact made it easier to prove to himself that this was real and that he hadn't just watched the two people he cared about most die. "Anyway, let's have a rematch tonight. Bet you beat me this time."

"Not this again." Bones plopped down beside Jim, scowling. Jim grinned and let his arm- the one not touching Spock- wrap around his friend's shoulders. The contact did wonders in calming his racing heart.

"Yes, this again! You wanna come?"

"Depends. Will there be whiskey?"

"Not tonight. You drank everything I had last night."

Bones snorted and started eating. "Like you didn't help."

"Come on, Bones, it'll be fun!"

"I dunno if I can suffer both of your presence without a drink." Bones smirked, quirking an eyebrow at Jim. "But I can try."

"Great! We can meet in my cabin at 2300."

"Affirmative."

"I can do that."

"Perfect." Jim paused, pushing aside the words that came naturally. "Spock, we outta get to the bridge."

"Correct, captain." Spock stood and nodded at Bones. "Until tonight, Leonard."

"See ya, Bones!" Jim grinned as Bones waved half-heartedly, something fond flickering in his features even as he rolled his eyes.

Jim fell into step with Spock as they headed for the turbolift. Inside, Spock spoke up. "I must admit, I do find the recreational time spent with you and Dr. McCoy quite enjoyable."

"I'm glad, Spock. It's- It's quite enjoyable for me too."

He felt Spock glance at him from the corner of his eye, but he didn't comment further. They stepped on the bridge together, then separated for their respective stations.

"Captain on the bridge!"

"Status report, Mr. Sulu?" Jim asked, a strange nervousness crawling over him as his pilot responded.

"Starfleet sent us new orders this morning. There's a planet in our sector they want us to check out."

"Okay." Jim hesitated. It had only been a dream. They were on an exploration mission, after all. It was a common enough command, it wasn't surprising.

"Sir?" Sulu glanced at Chekov, then back at him. "Shall I set the course?"

Jim cleared his throat. "Yes, Mr. Sulu. Thank you."

"Yes, sir."

He forced his attention to turn to his paperwork (paperwork that felt too familiar, too much the same as before), though was unable to keep from occasionally glancing out at the stars. Time crawled by and he found himself painfully tense, worry circling his mind. It had just been a dream. A frighteningly realistic one, but a dream all the same. After his shift, he'd head to his room, meet Bones and Spock, and tell them about it. They'd calm his fears and assure him that he was, in fact, being ridiculous. It'd be okay. He just had to finish this shift.

Then Sulu spoke and he felt as though all the air had left the room. "Sir, there's an unidentified ship approaching."

Jim sucked in a breath and ground his teeth, forcing his shaking hands to steady. "Hail them."

"They're not responding."

"Shields up. Then try again."

"Yes, sir." As Sulu moved to act, the entire ship jolted.

"We've been hit, captain! Damage to engine one!"

Jim swore, a cold panic washing over him. "Are the shields up?"

"Yes, sir, but the hit came while I was putting them up. They didn't block the entire blast."

"Fire back immediately!"

"Shields at twenty percent!" Chekov called.

"Firing now!" Sulu tensed. "It didn't even dent their shields!"

"Get us out of here, Mr. Sulu!"

"Yes, sir. I need-" The ship shook again. The hit took the lights with this time.

"Shields at ten percent!"

"Sulu, can you get us out?"

"The engine is too damaged, sir, I can't warp!"

"Damn it! Evacuate the ship!" He commanded, slamming the button. Red light flooded the room and Jim strode to the console, already pulling Sulu up.

"The autopilot is down, sir, I need to stay and-"

"Get out of here, Hikaru! That's an order!"

"But sir-" The ship rocked again.

"Think of Demora!"

Sulu's eyes went wide. Jim felt guilty for the bluntness, but it got the man moving, and that was what mattered. Jim turned his attention to Spock immediately.

"I need to find Bones."

"I will accompany you, captain."

Jim nodded sharply, not bothering to argue. The memory from yesterday- the dream, the damn dream- rose, but he pushed it down and pressed on.

"Bones!" The ship shook, more violently this time. The shields were down.

"I need to get my patients off this ship. Go without me!" Bones barked, not even looking at Jim.

"Come on, Bones, we can't stay!" Jim insisted, even as he pulled a patient out of bed and helped Nurse Chapel get a grip on him. She dragged the man- the last patient, he realized, as Bones helped Dr. M'Benga with another.

"Alright, alright. Lead the way."

Jim moved, knowing the two were behind him. Fear gripped him as the world exploded again, however, and he was thrown into Bones' office.

"No!"

Spock and Bones, clinging for dear life.

"Bones! Spock!"

Spock's eyes rolling. Bones' face going blue.

"No! No!"

Spock let go. Jim screamed. The world exploded.

. . .

This time, he shot out of bed, eyes fearful as they found the clock.

Same time. Same day.

He wanted to believe to it was a bad dream. That he was stressed and his brain had come up with some weird situation to cope with that. But it had all been too real for that. He didn't know what was happening, but he had to stop it.

He barely pulled on appropriate clothing before taking off, sprinting for Spock's room. He pounded on the door as soon as he arrived, heart racing.

"Jim. It is quite early, is all well?"

"No. You have to listen to me. I dunno what's going on, but I've been through this day twice now and both times, the Enterprise has been blown up and we all die. I need your help stopping it." As soon as it was out, he knew how insane it sounded. He was certain Spock thought he had lost it, but he was simply staring. When he spoke, his voice was void of emotion.

"Why don't you come inside?" Jim blinked, confused, but let Spock usher him inside. "Were you able to sleep last night, Jim?"

"What? Yeah, I guess. Spock, you're missing the point!"

"I am not. I am simply assessing the situation. You are certain these events were real?"

"Yes. Like I said, I don't know how, but they were! We have to do something!"

"Indeed." Spock looked at him a moment longer, then cautiously raised his arms. "You are shaking. May I hug you?"

Jim blinked. "Uh- what?"

"Hugs are customary means of comfort in Earth culture, correct?"

"Well- yeah."

"Then I wish to comfort you. This has clearly caused you great distress."

"I guess." Jim was still confused as Spock hugged him. He couldn't recall if Spock had ever hugged him. "I'm just glad you aren't calling me crazy. I thought you'd think I lost it."

"Believe me, Jim. I do not think you 'crazy,' as you say." Spock released him, sincerity in his eyes even as his features remained neutral. "I do apologize, however."

"What? What are you-" He didn't have a chance to finish as he felt Spock's fingers at his neck. The world was black before he even hit the ground.

The first thing he registered when he came to were voices, low and worried.

"-clearly believed these events to be real."

"Jesus, Spock. You did the right thing bringing him here."

"Will you be able to determine what is wrong?"

"Yeah, I should. He's probably just been pushing himself too much. You saw how tired he was last night."

"Exhaustion could cause delusions."

Delusions? "Bones. Spock!" Jim forced his heavy eyes open and tried to sit up. He found he couldn't.

"Woah, Jimmy, relax." Their faces appeared in his vision.

"Spock, what the hell!?"

"I apologize, captain. You were clearly in a state of panic and I believed Dr. McCoy could best assist you."

"I'm not having delusions! The ship is going to get attacked! Let me up so I can stop it!"

Bones frowned, eyes worried. "Kid, calm down. We're gonna figure out what's wrong, okay? You're gonna be fine." He was being gentle. Bones was never gentle.

He really thought Jim had lost it. He struggled harder against the restraints, anger and despair and betrayal flowing through his system. "Damn it, Bones! Just listen to me!"

"You're not makin any sense, kid. The ship is fine."

"Yeah, now! But we're gonna get attacked!"

"Jim-"

"I saw the crew dying! I saw you both die! I need to save you, let me save you!"

Spock and Bones exchanged a look. A hand closed around his and squeezed. "We're right here, Jimmy."

"Don't touch me, damn it!" Jim thrashed violently, too angry to properly appreciate the gesture. "Listen!"

"I'm gonna put you to sleep again, kid. We'll figure this out, I promise."

"No, Bones, don't! Please, don't!" But it was too late. Jim glowered at Bones, then Spock, as he felt the hypo kicking in. "Damn you both!" He snarled before his body relaxed on its own account and he fell unconscious again.

When he woke the second time, the world was red. Bones was beside him, yanking his limp body- still weak from the sedative- off the biobed. Jim leaned again Bones, groaning as the doctor practically dragged him to the door.

"Leonard!" Spock skidded to a halt in front of them, then grabbed Jim's other arm and helped drag him towards the door.

"What the hell is going on?" Bones hissed as they stumbled to the door.

"We are being attacked." Spock explained shortly. Jim was too weak to say 'I told you so.'

"What? By who?"

"I do not-"

The explosion cut him off. This time, Jim watched, horrified, as Bones was sucked out of the ship. The only thing keeping him from the same fate was Spock's strong arm, his grip painful on Jim's bicep.

"BONES!"

"Jim!" Spock pulled at him, but it was obvious the lack of atmosphere was affecting him. Jim himself already felt lightheaded. Black spots filled his vision and he passed out before Spock's grip failed.

#star trek #jim kirk #spock #leonard mccoy #mcspirk #tos #star trek tos #star trek aos #aos #fanfiction #my stories #mine #and we do it all again

4 notes · View notes

ohmygoodnessgraciouss · 6 years ago

Text

Hi Gorgeous (Jerome Valeska x Reader)

When Jerome escapes the asylum, you have no idea how you’re going to hide. Quite a bit different from the show! I wanted to write something that would give you a slight taste of what Jerome would really be like if he were psychotic and loved someone. Because, let’s face it, he’d be abusive.

Warnings: Abuse, and a sassy reader!

Words: I don’t know, something around 3200.

Shameless references if you can find ‘em!

“What do you mean he’s escaped?”

“He broke out of the asylum a few days ago. We have no idea where he might be, but we’re doing the best we can,” Jim Gordon told you over the phone.

“What am I supposed to do if he’s out in Gotham right now? Not only am I in the city, but if he finds me he’s going to kill me. He hates me.”

“Get to your house immediately. Lock your windows and doors. I’ll be over later to check on you, (Y/N). We’ll get him before he can hurt anybody,” He promised you.

A small part of you wished that he was right. It seems like that part of you took over instead of the majority that was saying there’s no way. “I’m going home now. I��ll call you if I see him anywhere, Jim.”

“Good. Don’t open the door for anyone, and I’ll call you when I get to the door. Other than that, stay safe.”

“I’ll try.”

You made it all the way to your house without seeing the ginger-haired freak, and you were glad. He’d torture you slowly and painfully if he caught you anywhere. You could be in the middle of a restaurant and he’d make sure everyone saw the pain in your eyes.

You shut and locked the door as soon as you walked into the hallway. You pulled the table that was nearby in front of the door so at least it would slow him down. Since it was winter, most of the locks on the windows were placed anyway. You double-checked them and closed the curtains.

Maybe you were slightly over-cautious as you made sure there was no technology on to hear him coming, and bringing a precision knife along with you in case you needed to make a quick escape. Maybe you weren’t being cautious enough.

It felt like only yesterday that you were best friends with Jerome, and in reality, it had been well over a year. It felt like it’s been over a year since Lila died, but it didn’t feel like a year since you lost your best friend.

“Jerome, I swear to God, if you throw one more dart at the balloons I’m making you pay for a full game,” You said, annoyed at the grinning 14-year old boy.

“Aw, come on (Y/N)! It’s all just for fun!” He exclaimed. He picked up the last dart and aimed for the balloon right above your head. He wanted to show off his accuracy and precision, but he also knew this would be 5 bucks out of his pocket that he just saved up in 3 weeks.

“Yeah, it’s fun for you. If Steve finds three popped balloons I’m going to be in a world of trouble from everyone. I’ll be cleaning up Lizzie’s crap for the next three months,” You groaned. Lizzie was Haly’s Circus’ prized elephant, and it was not fun to have to clean up after her every night.

“It’s better than working for Fiona. She may give you candy after every time you help her with something, but you aren’t done until she says it’s perfect.”

“Fiona is trying to teach you how to perfectly set up the trapeze area so that no one falls and dies. If you kill a Grayson you’ll have that whole family teaming up to slaughter you.”

“It’s better than having to work with my mother at least,” Jerome grumbled as he walked off to sit on the rocks near a river. You followed him without even thinking about it. That was the best part of your friendship. Even if you did annoy each other, where one went, the other followed.

“You’re kidding, right? Lila is so easy to work with. You can set everything up in 10 minutes and when she comes over to yell at you about how everything is wrong, you throw Jimmy at her and you’re good for the day,” The two of you laughed. You knew Jerome well enough that you could joke to him about his mom and he’d go along with it. You were the only one he trusted enough.

Maybe one day that memory could be bittersweet, but for now, it only brought you pain. You trusted Jerome with your life, and he trusted you will all of his. You knew well enough that you wouldn’t be able to trust him after he killed his mom. That dark glint in his eyes whenever you mentioned Lila should have warned you about that.

Back then you thought Jerome was the sweet boy instead of Jeremiah. Jeremiah always seemed off, and it wasn’t always just because he was much smarter than the rest of you. His intentions always seemed pretty odd. The time you found out what Jeremiah was really like was when you were only 13 years old.

“Hey, Jerome! Where’s that brother of yours? I thought he’d be reading a book behind your trailer, but I didn’t see him anywhere. Haly needs his amazing math skills,” You asked Jerome as you walked up to him. He was feeding one of the lions at the time. As soon as he looked up at you, you could see the pain and darkness. You had no idea what happened yet.

Lila walked up to you before you could say anything else. “(Y/N), I don’t want you talking to my son anymore. See, we had to send Jeremiah away because we wanted to give him a better life,” She stated as she led you away from Jerome.

“Why? Why didn’t you send Jerome away instead? He’s better than Jeremiah. Jeremiah was all book smarts, Jerome has a little bit of everything.”

“That’s the problem, sweetie. Jeremiah came to my room a few days ago crying. Jerome was holding a steak knife to his throat when he woke up. I can’t let Jerome kill his brother, and I don’t want him to be able to hurt you as well. If he can kill his brother, he could kill anyone.”

“So that’s why you held Jerome back,” She nodded her head before you could finish, “Because he reminds you of you.”

“Excuse me?!” Her face contorted in anger.

“All you’ve been doing since they were born was kill them slowly. All the beatings they took, the mental abuse, and having to hear you getting it freaky with a clown every night. Or was it an acrobat last week? I can’t remember, but then again, I’m sure you can’t either.”

“You bitch!” She slapped you so hard and quickly that you feared you might have whiplash.

Jerome watched it all go down from afar. He couldn’t hear anything either one of them said, but as soon as he saw his mother place a hand on (Y/N) he knew he had to step in.

That following night involved Jerome sleeping over in your trailer as he tried helping you with the red handprint on your cheek. He made sure you were alright and still stayed with you the entire night to comfort you. If anyone knew the damage she could cause with a single slap, it was him.

Time seemed to pass by fairly quickly considering the situation. You were surprised that it was. If only it would go by just a little bit faster though. You guess it was from the memories you recalled with Jerome that made time fly.

You checked the windows and locks on the doors again, worried he might have slipped in at some point while you were dazed. You knew he couldn’t though, he would have made it known he was inside the house as soon as he stepped foot in it.

How you wished you’d be able to recall childhood memories as something that was fun, you wished you could look back into your past with nostalgia like normal, people. Unfortunately, you knew just how far from normality you were.

“Today is the day I kill that whore,” Jerome stormed into your trailer and flopped onto the couch. Since you were 18, you were able to save up money for a trailer of your own and you would let Jerome in whenever he needed to get away from his mom. Sometimes he would stay for the whole night, other times it would only be for a few hours.

“You don’t really mean that, Jerome. You’re just tired of her. Soon enough we’ll have enough money to take off and go somewhere else. As soon as the show’s over tonight, we can find a place in Gotham to stay at,” You assured Jerome. You sat next to him and placed your hand overtop his. He quickly pulled his hand back and moved to start pacing in front of you.

“No, not this time. I’m going to make sure she feels the pain that I’ve felt for years before she finally croaks,” He started laughing darkly. You were almost afraid of him.

“She’s not worth it. Don’t waste your time on a woman like that, just stay here for the rest of the night if you have to and we’ll leave,” You tried convincing him. Knowing him, if he said he wanted to do something, he’d do it in a heartbeat. He didn’t just bluff.

“She hurt me more than I could ever hurt her. She should get to feel what fear is like, what it’s like to limp out of the trailer with blood gushing out of your head. She hurt me, she hurt you, and I’ve had it. She’s going to die,” He said before running out of your trailer in search of whatever he needed to kill her.

You ran out and tried to follow him, but he was too fast. Who knows what he was up to now. You didn’t know if you’d protect him or not if he actually committed the crime. All you knew was that he was gone, and you had no idea when or if he’d be back.

The slightest noise of wind knocking down a branch made you jump out of your memory. It was almost completely silent in your home, which you loved most of the time. Right now, you almost wanted to hear the sound of another person talking, as long as it wasn’t him.

“Jerome, don’t tell me you really did it,” You said as soon as you saw him walk into your trailer. He had a bright grin on his face, and his eyes lit up like diamonds. You would never suspect him of killing anyone.

“I did! I’m free from her, for the first time in 18 years,” He said, relieved.

Your heart wrenched as you heard him admit it. Hearing Jerome admit that he killed his mother made it true, the reality. Your face must’ve paled considerably as Jerome’s expression turned from happy to concerned. “(Y/N)? What’s wrong?”

“You killed Lila?” You barely choked out.

“Yeah! Don’t you see it? We can go wherever we want now, with no one around to stop us! We can have a life!” Jerome continued to exclaim in happiness, not even realizing that he was backing you into a corner.

You noticed this, however, and your eyes widened in fear. You quickly looked around for anything that you could grab and use if he laid a hand on you. “Jerome, that’s great,” You smiled, trying to fake the happiness.

"I know! Tonight, after the show, we'll get out of here while the circus leaves. We can go and have a life in Gotham like you wanted."

"Yeah, absolutely. But, Jerome, you might want to go pack a few things, right? So we can leave right after the show."

"I'll go now, I promise you this'll be a great start for us," He kissed your cheek before he walked out of the trailer.

The phone started ringing and you answered it immediately. You expected Jim to be on the other end, but you were in for a rude awakening. "Hello?"

"(Y/N)!" Jerome greeted you. Your blood ran cold as you heard his voice. You could see him now, a grin on his face, the phone held up against his ear, his blue eyes staring right into your (e/c) orbs. Even when he was nowhere in sight, your brain could produce his image in a second. It could add the blood and psychotic glint in his eyes even faster than that.

"Jerome," You said his name, barely above a whisper. The strength you built up as you were coming home was instantly drained at the sound of his voice.

"How've you been? Oh, nevermind that, I'll find out when I come to see you. Y'see, when I was stuck in that place full of lunatics, I have no idea why they sent me there," He cut off into a small fit of laughter, "All I could think about was you. The way you look, the way you walk, the way you talk, I could write a song! I should write a song," You knew Jerome well enough that sometimes he'd get distracted by another thought that flew through his head.

"What do you want, Jerome?"

"Oh, I thought I made that clear. I want you dead," Jerome said with venom laced in his voice, "I'll see you soon! Bye-bye!" He ended the call with a chirpy attitude as if what he said before didn't exist.

You quickly called up Jim right after to tell him what happened. "He called you?" Jim asked as soon as you finished the story.

"Yes, and I still don't see the point of it unless," Just as you figured it out, Jim spoke up.

"(Y/N), turn your phone off now, he must've used the call to track you. I'll be there soon," He ended the call abruptly. Following his orders, you quickly turned the device off. A part of you wanted to destroy it for extra measure. Even though he may have your location now, this may slow him down.

You got the knife ready, tucked into your pocket, reassuring you that you aren't completely defenseless here. It could be ten minutes or an hour until either Jerome or Jim shows up. You hoped it was Jim first.

"Detective Gordon, is there any chance we can get out soon? We've been waiting here all night," You asked when you spotted Jim walking across the precinct. For the past 3 hours, you've been stuck in GCPD as they took statements from everyone on Lila's death.

"I want to go over your statement one more time actually, and then you'll be free to go," He smiled slightly. You nodded and followed him to the interrogation room.

You sat down in the chair furthest away from the door and waited until Gordon and Bullock walked in. "Your name?"

"(Y/F/N)."

"Date of birth?"

As you continued to rattle off everything about your identity, you played with the end of your sleeve. Staying in here much longer was going to make you snap. You wanted to tell them that you know it was Jerome who did it, but he was so far around the bend that you knew he'd find you and kill you.

"Where were you tonight?"

"I was helping out in the show. I work mainly with the lighting and making sure no one screws up," You tried telling a joke to ease the mood. Gordon gave a small smile before writing the information down.

"You're friends with Lila Valeska's son, Jerome, right?"

"Yes, sir. We were once dating, but it's gotten complicated. I'm not sure you could say we're dating anymore."

"I'm sorry to hear that. He seems to talk about you a lot. Something going on there?" You knew he was fishing for the information. He must've had reason to believe Jerome was Lila's murderer. You took the bait. Either you tell them Jerome did it and have him locked away where he hates you or be stuck with him for an indefinite amount of time. You knew what to do.

"He did things I would never approve of, and he knows it. I was getting tired of it."

"Any illegal things?"

"Yes."

"What kinds of things would he do?"

You hesitated, fearing what you were about to say would decide your fate. In a way, it did. Bullock, intrigued, leaned against the table, ready to hear what he was anticipating. "Jerome walked into my trailer this afternoon, saying he was going to kill Lila. All his life he's been beaten by her. She's a drunk, and she'd beat him until she needed to go sleep with someone or get another bottle of vodka. I always felt bad for him, and I comforted him. Today though, something snapped in him. He left after telling me he'd kill her, and I'd have to guess he followed through it."

Just as you were about to walk upstairs, you heard a banging on the door. It wasn't like Jim's banging though. Jim's was much harder than that, and you knew who exactly it was because of it. "GCPD," Jerome sang giddily.

You ran up the stairs as silently as possible and found a closet. You swung in and shut the door, hiding behind a couple boxes off to the side. You couldn't see the door, and you knew you wouldn't be able to tell anyone was there unless you moved it. You could hear the front door as it swung open, hitting the wall. You jumped at the sound.

"Honey, I'm home!" He yelled out. "Where are you, (Y/N)? I know you're around here somewhere."

You heard him tearing through the downstairs rooms with a loud stomp. Every once in a while, a gunshot could be heard, obviously trying to make you yelp in terror. "You know, I could almost forgive you for ratting me out at the police department. Eh, maybe not," Another gunshot was heard.

"The worst part was watching the TV, saying you once loved me. Notice the past tense! You even mentioned once that I was a monster," He said in a dramatic gasp. "Now, I think we should just end this little lover's quarrel of ours."

You heard him making his way up the stairs. "See, I've seen how it is with you. You think, 'poor Jerome, maybe if I keep him busy I can use him just like his dear mommy did.' Well, that's not how it's going to end up. I can't tell if you should die like my whore of a mother did or show you that there's no shame in being crazy like me. Y'know, I think it could really work out between us if you see it the way I see it. I mean, look at how I turned out! I'm great! We could be the king and queen of Gotham, you and I. You just have to show me where you're at."

Bang! You could hear the door open. Memories of sharing cotton candy with Jerome flashed in your eyes.

Bang! This time you saw the nights where you had to comfort a crying 8-year-old boy who you barely knew even if you did work together a lot.

Bang! Playing pranks on the Flying Graysons.

Bang! Counting how many fish there were in the pond.

Bang! You saw the light shine through the boxes. A dark figure loomed over you. You heard the shuffling of boxes on one side, and then you saw the ones in front of you move back. You looked up to see a man with ginger hair, bright blue eyes and brandishing a wide and psychotic grin.

"Hi, gorgeous."

#jerome valeska #jerome #jerome valeska x reader #x reader #insert #fanfiction #one shot #fanfic #gotham #show #jim gordon #harvey bullock #flying graysons #jeremiah valeska #jeremiah #lila #barbara kean #maniax #shameless

364 notes · View notes