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pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 4 years ago

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captain’s best friend

summary: it’s a competition to see who is Gabe’s best friend, but is that really what you and EJ are focused on?

warnings: mentions of alcohol, drinking, I think like two swears, unedited writing

word count: 3.6k

note from the writer: everyone say thank you @burkymakar bc she chatted with me through this entire thing (which I wrote in one day)

Game days were some of your favorites. The electric crowd, a whole stadium cheering for the boys on the ice that you knew so well. Overpriced food and even more expensive merchandise. But no matter how much you loved it, it was after a good victory that you truly felt your happiest.

“What? No Johnson jersey?”

You playfully rolled your eyes at the sound of an approaching voice, turning around from your conversation with Aleks Zadorov Mel Landeskog only to come face to toothless face with none other than Erik Johnson.

“Oh, you know, gotta support my best friend.” You teased, tugging at the hem of the Landeskog jersey Gabe had gotten you years ago. The same jersey you wore every game day, so it really shouldn’t have been a surprise to him. EJ scoffed, his own playful grin taking over his features.

“I’m Landy’s best friend.” He stated matter-of-factly and you quickly shook your head at him. Mel, wanting to avoid yet another childish bickering match over who was her husband’s best friend, bumped her hip against yours while balancing a sleeping Linnea on the other side.

“What are you doing tonight?” She asked as more of the boys started emerging from the locker room. You glanced at EJ, having heard about tentative plans to go out to a bar or two if the Avalanche came out with a win, but before you could say anything either way, Andre had swung an arm around your and Erik’s shoulder.

“We’re celebrating!” He cheered, a little too loudly for Linnea sleeping nearby, before removing the arm that was around your shoulders and clapping EJ on the chest. “Two assists, man! I’m buying you a drink tonight.”

“Yeah, you better.” EJ responded goodnaturedly as Gabe arrived, sweeping his daughter into his arms and planting a kiss on his wife’s cheek. After greeting them, he pulled you into a quick hug as Mikko, Tyson, and JT arrived.

“You kids have fun tonight.” Gabe joked, before his gaze fell on you with a faux-serious look. “I’m putting you in charge of making sure they all get home in one piece.”

“You’re not my captain.” You teased, and Gabe narrowed his eyes at you playfully. He kept quiet, bidding you and his teammates goodbye as you made plans with Mel to get brunch the next morning while the boys were at practice.

“Who am I riding with?” You asked as the Landeskogs left. You didn’t have much of an opinion—as long as you didn’t ride with Andre, who acted as if he was in NASCAR each time he drove. Tyson’s face twisted up in a mischievous smile that you didn’t get to question before he started speaking.

“You can go with EJ.” He said, as if it was some big deal. Mikko chuckled then, too, while JT smirked smugly and you felt entirely out of the loop. You glanced to EJ with your brows furrowed, only to find him already glaring at Tyson. That only deepened your confusion, because as far as you knew, you had a pretty good friendship with the defenseman.

“I mean, if it’s fine with him.” You offered, figuring that if he truly had a problem with it, he’d take you up on your offer out. Instead, his gaze snapped to meet your confused one, and his look softened incredibly.

“Yeah, no, of course it’s fine.” He cleared his throat, and with one last glare at Tyson who was snickering, everyone made their way to the cars. The place Andre picked wasn’t far from the area, and it was only after a few moments of the radio playing softly did you gain the nerve to speak up.

“I could’ve made one of the other guys drive me, you know.” You explained, still feeling some of the awkwardness from the previous conversation. You weren’t sure why you were so concerned with making sure he didn’t feel inconvenienced by driving you, but you did.

“I’m sure you could have, but I don’t mind driving you.” He chuckled, turning to glance at you for a second before returning his attention to the road. You blatantly studied his profile, watching as the lights of Denver cascaded across his face. He probably felt your gaze, because the corners of his lips quirked upwards mischievously. Your attention snapped forward out the windshield as he opened his mouth to say something, probably about how you were staring. “There’s a team dinner at Landy’s next week, did he tell you?”

“Not yet.” You responded, practically hearing the smirk in his words as you admitted that Gabe told him something he didn’t tell you.

“It’s because I’m his best friend. He told me first.” He said proudly, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Or maybe, it’s because it’s a team dinner, and I’m not on the team.” Though factually, you weren’t on the team, it had been a long time since you hadn’t been invited to an Avalanche as someone’s plus one. Gabe had brought you around the team so much that they progressively became your friends just as much as they were his, and slowly it was just expected that you’d arrive at any and all team events.

“I’m pretty sure Landy would hate it if you didn’t show up.”

“Just Landy?” You asked without processing how flirtatious the question actually was. Your heart was beating in your chest as you waited for Erik’s answer, and you felt his attention flick to you as he pulled into a parking spot a short distance from the bar.

“No, not just him.” He said quietly but clearly. You nodded, missing the fond look he sent your way as you picked at your nails. The air in the car felt thick, and even though you had taken off the jersey, opting to wear the shirt underneath that you had on in preparation for going out, you felt incredibly warm.

You heard your name being called out, and you saw Andre and Mikko standing on the sidewalk in front of the car. You smiled, thankful for the distraction, and climbed out. You heard EJ get out, and he soon fell in step with you.

The bar was much more crowded than you thought it would have been, but then again it was a Friday after an Avalanche win, so people were in a good mood. Nate and JT immediately slipped away to get a table big enough for the crowd that had arrived with the team, while the other boys headed into the crowd. You had been momentarily distracted by the atmosphere and trying to decide what you wanted to do first, so when a hand settled on your lower back you understandably jumped.

“Easy there, killer.” EJ teased as you turned around to see who it was. You relaxed upon realizing that it was him, and not some stranger, and subconsciously you stepped closer to him. He leaned down enough to whisper in your ear in an attempt to speak over the clamor of the bar, and you reasoned that the heat rising to your face was a result of the crowd. “Do you want to get a drink first or sit down?”

“A drink.” You settled on. If he was going to be hanging on you all not—not that you truly minded—you would need some liquid courage. For a second, you saw his toothless grin widen in mischief before his hand slipped into yours and he used it to keep you close to him as he used his large frame to make a path through the crowd.

A strong drink, you decided.

And if it was a few strong drinks, who could blame you? Erik had barely left your side the entire night, warding off any creepy guy that approached and keeping you company. Even when you pulled Tyson and Andre to the floor to goofily dance around as your drinks started to hit you, you felt his eyes on you. Tyson must have noticed, because he gave you a shit-eating look no less than three times, but as the drinks kept coming, you found it harder and harder to care.

The end of the night came quicker than you thought it would, but the boys had practice in the morning and Nate was there to make sure everyone made it out of the bar by one in the morning.

“And to think you were supposed to be in charge.” He teased, watching as you giggled at seemingly nothing. You were drunk, not terribly so, but drunk nonetheless. Nate patted you on the shoulder and Andre pulled you in for an obnoxiously dramatic hug, and then it was just left with you and EJ at the bar, who you had seen nurse the same beer all night.

“Come on, I’ll give you a lift.” Erik offered, closing out his tab and yours, despite your protest.

“I’m fine, EJ. I can just get an Uber.” You shook your head, but he didn’t see, as he wrapped an arm around you and began the trek towards the exit.

“There is no way I’m letting you get into an Uber by yourself, while you’re drunk.” He huffed, rolling his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You tried not to think about how your heart skipped a beat at his thoughtfulness, or how his touch on your lower back as he led you through the crowd set you aflame. “Landy would kill me if I let you do that.”

Oh.

“Yeah,” You chuckled, a little breathlessly as the cold Denver air pricked at your skin. You decided that sober you would have to deal with why you felt more than a little disappointed that the only reason he wasn’t letting you climb in an Uber was Gabe. “Landy would hate it if you left me, his best friend, to find my own way home.”

“C’mon.” He chuckled, surprisingly not taking the bait for your age old argument of who was the captain’s best friend. You found yourself wrapping a hand around EJ’s arm and moving closer to him in an attempt to both steal some of his body heat and not get lost in the crowd of people on the sidewalk, with the added benefit of making him slow his steps down so he wasn’t using his long legs to race ahead. “Let’s get you home.”

The next morning you woke up to an empty house and a dull headache. While it wasn’t that bad of a hangover, you still felt the effects of the one too many drinks you had the night before. The first thing you did upon waking up was check the time, seeing you still had a little over two hours before you had to meet Mel. After responding to a few texts, you rolled over in preparation to get up and make breakfast, only to see a glass of water, a bottle of painkillers, and a note that you certainly hadn’t left on your nightstand. Picking up the note—which really was a napkin stolen from your kitchen—you recognized the scratchy handwriting.

Drink up. —Landy’s best friend

You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face at the simple note, and quickly took the medicine and water before busying yourself with getting ready for brunch with Mel. It didn’t work, and you caught yourself more than six times thinking of the tall, toothless blond that shared the spot of the captain’s best friend with you. Even as you made your way to the predetermined diner, you couldn’t wipe the dopey smile off of your face as a result of the previous night’s events.

“So, you and EJ?” Mel teased the moment you sat down at the table. You had been cooing at Linnea, but stopped abruptly upon hearing her suggestive question. There was no you and EJ. There was you and then there was EJ.

But why did your heart skip a beat at the idea?

“No?” You said, unsure what it was exactly that you were denying. She simply shot you one of her unimpressed mom looks that you had seen directed at Gabe more than Linnea, and you gave her a confused look of your own.

“JT told Gabe that you left the bat with EJ last night.” She explained, and you rolled your eyes at the redhead who apparently couldn’t help but gossip. Mel was looking at you expectantly, and part of you wondering what made her think that something would happen between you and her husband’s second best friend.

“Erik just helped me get home last night, so I wouldn’t have to take an Uber.” You explained, and you quickly regretted your word choice as her smile turned mischievous.

“Oh, so he’s Erik now?” She teased you for calling him by his name instead of his nickname that everyone called him. Linnea saved you from coming up with a response, deciding she hadn’t gotten enough attention and babbled loudly, gaining her mom’s attention.

Arriving at the Landeskogs later that week, you hadn’t realized it was wine night, until you spotted four different bottles on the island table. You shot a confused look to Mel, you gave an exasperated sigh.

“They’re EJ’s, he’s getting into wine collecting, and brought some over for Gabe.” She explained, and you chuckled. You remembered him telling you something along the lines of his new hobby, but after your conversation with her over brunch days prior, you weren’t going to readily tell her your communication with Erik had increased.

“Is he here?” You asked casually, picking up the bottle that was closest to you. As if in response to your question, you heard Erik’s loud laugh fill the house and you couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on your face. You followed Mel into the living room, finding EJ and Gabe both sitting on the large sectional, with Linnea bouncing on Erik’s lap.

“Hey, you made it!” Gabe cheered upon seeing you, and Erik’s head snapped towards you, a smile on his face. Your heart skipped a beat momentarily at the sight, but you were dragged back to reality as Linnea cooed at you, making grabby hands.

“I was promised dinner.” You teased, dropping into the spot besides Erik. He seemed to be able to tell what you were after, and set Linnea in your lap. His arm went to the back of the couch behind your head, and you tried your best to focus on making faces at the baby in your lap instead of his proximity.

“You were promised dinner? I was just told to bring wine.” EJ joked, earning chuckles from everyone else in the room.

“That’s because I’m Landy’s best friend.” You said smugly, glancing at Erik out of the corner of your eye. He grinned, and from the mischievous glint in his eyes you could tell he was taking the bait this time.

“He trusts me enough to pick out a good wine, I’m the best friend.” He replied, and you heard Gabe and Mel groan in good fun. It wasn’t the first time you and Erik had gotten into the playful argument about who was Landy’s actual best friend.

“It doesn’t count as ‘picking out a good wine’ if you just bring four bottles. That’s cheating.” You grinned, your attention fully on him then.

“Oh my god, just kiss already.” Gabe groaned, earning an elbow from Mel, who honestly didn’t seem all too concerned with actually putting a stop to her husband’s comments. Your stomach dropped and your face warmed, and you turned back to Linnea, who had begun pulling on your shirt in a bid for attention.

“Why not?” Erik teased, surely he was joking, but his knee knocked against yours after a beat of silence. You spared a glance up to Mel, who had the audacity to look smug while you were freaking out.

“Why don’t we give you guys a moment.” Mel suggested, patting Gabe on the knee so he got the message and scooped up Linnea from your lap. You watched in confusion about why you and Erik would need a moment as they left, but just before Gabe disappeared, he turned and pointed a very captain-like finger at EJ.

“Just say it, man.” And then he was gone, leaving you even more confused and flustered as Erik moved his arm from on the couch behind you to his lap, where he anxiously fiddled with his watch.

“Say what?” You questioned, turning slightly to face him.

“Fuckin’ Landy.” He muttered, though you assumed he was speaking to himself as he had yet to look up to meet your gaze since Gabe left. “Alright, here goes nothing.”

“Erik—?”

“I like you. Like, a lot.”

And that truly was not what you thought he was going to say, so you said nothing out of pure shock. You weren’t upset that he had told you his feelings, far from it, but he had caught you off guard.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll just—” He started, and made to get up to leave, but your hand shot out before you could register you were moving and grabbed his forearm, causing him to stop his rambling.

“No, no. I just, I didn’t think you’d like me that way.” You confessed, and EJ laughed like it should have been obvious. He settled back into his seat, but you could tell he was still tense.

“Are you kidding me? I’m crazy about you. Whenever we go out, I’m stuck by you, and barely drink, just I can be the one to drive you home. When Landy first started bringing you around, he used to give me so much shit because I asked about you all the time. He still does, but it’s because I took forever to make a move.” He confessed. “But I was nervous, you’re so fun, and witty, and kind.”

“You’re all those things and more, too, you know.” You assured him. You were certain you had never met anymore more witty and fun than him.

And then it hit you exactly why your heart stuttered each time you saw him—why you suddenly had the urge to kiss him only moments before.

You had feelings for your best friend’s second best friend.

Erik called your name softly, and when you met his gaze, he was looking at you with a look of utter seriousness that you had truly never seen before on the lighthearted man. While you adored his playful smile and the mischievous glint in his eyes, you were incredibly grateful he wasn��t treating this as a joke.

“What’re you thinking?” He asked, avoiding the question you could tell he actually wanted the answer to. You turned in your seat to face him, tucking one leg under yourself while your knee pressed gently against the side of his thigh.

“I’m thinking,” You hesitated, trying to find the words that encapsulated how you were feeling, while still keeping true to the banter that defined your relationship with him. “that I wouldn’t mind sharing being Landy’s best friend if it was you I was sharing with.”

He chuckled at this, and briefly you could see relief wash over his features. But then he brought one of his large hands up to cradle your jaw and hold you still as he crashed his lips against yours. You hadn’t realized how long awaited the kiss was until he was pressed against you and you felt as if you were breathing for the first time. You felt blind for not seeing it before, how you felt for Erik and his reciprocated feelings.

“Neither of you will be my best friend if you keep doing that on my couch!” Gabe teased from the doorway, and you had your suspicions that he had been listening in the entire time. You tilted your head back with a loud, gleeful laugh as Erik exchanged some choice words with his captain. Gabe tossed his hands up in innocence before shooting you a wink and slipping back into the kitchen. Erik’s hand dropped from where it had been holding your face to link with yours, and he pressed a series of gentle kisses to your fingers.

“Softie.” You teased, but made no effort to stop him. In fact, you leaned forward in search of another sweet kiss and he readily complied.

“Want to get out of here?” He questioned, just as you heard Mel’s cheers as Gabe, presumably, told her what he had seen. You smiled at Erik, ready to go along with whatever he had in mind.

“Lead the way.”

Game days. Your favorite.

You were bouncing in your seat the whole night, and Mel rolled her eyes playfully at you as you jumped out of your seat to cheer for Erik as he scored the goal that cemented Colorado’s win.

“What’re you doing after?” Mel asked as you waited with her and the other partners of the players for the boys to come out of the locker room. You had kidnapped Linnea and had been making faces at her while she was perched on your hip.

“Movie night. It was supposed to be my turn to pick, but Erik scored, so.” You explained. She didn’t have the chance to reply as the door to the locker room opened and the blond you had been waiting for emerged, his loud voice filling the hallway.

“What’s with the Johnson jersey?”

“Oh, you know, gotta support my boyfriend.” You teased, handing Linnea back to Mel as Erik approached, pulling you in for a quick kiss. You hadn’t told him you were wearing it, instead of your usual Landeskog jersey.

“Damn straight. I think it’s good luck.” He mumbled against your lips, before straightening back up and taking in your mischievous grin. He admired you, knowing that he was in for some comment or another, not wanting it any other way.

“But I’m wearing Landy’s next time, I still am his best friend.”

#erik johnson #Erik johnson imagine #Erik johnson x reader #Erik johnson fic #NHL imagine #NHL x reader #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #Colorado Avalanche #Colorado Avalanche x reader #Colorado Avalanche imagine

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i-went-to-a-cuddle-party-once · 4 years ago

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Alright folks, it’s been a few days now and I think I’ve finally gathered my thoughts together.( I’ll probably do a rewatch of the episode tomorrow so I’ll have all new opinions then)

Things I like 👍

Malcolm looking disheveled/like he's been awake for the last 37 hours and is running off of coffee and pure strength of will alone. It's a huge pet peeve of mine when characters are majorly struggling with something but still look picture perfect except for one little wispy hair out of place.

Edrissa not totally falling over herself flirting with Malcolm. Still flirting but in a more natural (for them) way.

Sex dungeon. Malcolm holding that cat’o nine tales. Good Lord. The only reason my brain didn’t fully burn out was that he kept on doing his ridiculous little dance. The adorableness evened out the sexy.

I have a thing for guillotines. Not a sex thing. They were a special interest of mine when I was younger and even though I've forgotten most of what I once knew I still get hyped when I see them.

Unhinged Malcolm in general is great. I like that he’s struggling. He’s human and he is coping poorly. I love that his actions have consequences! (Sometimes at least)

Gil in physical therapy! Do I wish we got more than one episode of him going through recovery and physical therapy? Yes. Am I glad that they even lightly covered it? Also yes. (My partner was laughing from the other room because he heard me say "Daaaaang, he's looking good!")

Dani being genuinely concerned and caring about Gil. We know she sees him as a father figure and she cares about him. The insight and advice she gives him come from the heart even if it was kind of messed up and she almost did the exact thing she asked him not to do. (Also, I know I said she sees him as a father figure but daaaaamn I was getting some different vibes too 👀👀👀)

Bringing up current events. Right off the bat, Dani lets Malcolm know she's having a helluva time being a black woman and a cop in this garbage fire of an era. All the mentions of covid! And JT! Holy crap y’all, I knew they were going to address this in some way but having JT slammed against a wall by a racist cop was not what I was expecting. In a cop show where the lead actor/protagonist is white and the rest of his team is not, it would have been irresponsible for them to not tackle the systemic racism that plagues law enforcement. (also, side note, I am a light-skinned latinx person. I have dealt with run-ins with racist cops on more than one occasion. So have my family and friends. Sometimes leading to arrest, violence, and death. I have strong opinions about this. I fully acknowledge that cop shows are pro-cop propaganda. This is why I don’t watch many and am very critical of the ones I do watch. )

Things I didn't like👎

Again with the bad representation of ECT (Electroconvulsive Therapy). I know it's probably me and two other people in the fandom that take issue with this but to go from S1 Ep1 where Malcolm goes off on the FBI after using the wrong terminology for his father to Martin failing to kill Jerry but giving him a good enough shock so that he suddenly speaks in full sentences bothers me in a big way. It’s knowledge whiplash. I usually love their representations of mental illnesses, therapy, and medication. They show the good and the bad and the misuse. And then they do stuff like this. This is the second time in the show ECT has been wrongly shown.

Malcolm not having consequences for his actions (I know, I put the exact opposite in the likes). What happened to the whole Malcolm getting arrested because he was being framed for Eddie’s death? Let's please not brush past this.

The killer only killed one person. This is a nit-picky one. I just wish he had killed more people. It felt like maybe at one point of the script he had killed more but because of the addition of real-world events, there wasn't room to fit them in. I'm blaming Fox as a whole for this. Give us an extended episode for season starters and finishers dang it!

As a whole, I think they did pretty good at packing so much in the episode. I know some people aren't enjoying the whole Malcolm Enjoyed The Dismemberment thing but I dig it. I like him being a weird, complicated, morally grey character.

#prodigal son spoilers #s2 ep1 spoilers #leif rambles about ps #fan thoughts #every time I've felt stressed this week I just think about Malcolm dancing and it makes me laugh #malcolm bright #you utter and complete dork #I double checked to make sure I was posting this to the right blog. not like every other time i post something

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the--blackdahlia · 4 years ago

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So Long Old Buddy

Title: So Long Old Buddy

Summary: Hawkeye gets a package from Boston.

Warnings: It’s kinda a tearjerker guys

AN: In the MASH Matters podcast, a writer for the show talks about how he trolled the writers for Trapper John MD by saying he was going to write an episode of Hawkeye going to pieces learnings of the death of his old friend Trapper. Well, here you go!

“Nothing like a quiet day to enjoy the three m’s,” Hawkeye said as he lounged on his cot. BJ looked over from his own, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, and what exactly are the three m’s?”

“Martinis, mellow atmosphere and...more martinis.”

“All the things in life you need.” BJ laughed.

“Right!” Hawkeye laughed. BJ shook his head as Radar came in, mail bag over his shoulder. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Radar. Come to partake in our mellow atmosphere?”

“I don’t think he can do the two m’s.” BJ commented.

“What?” Radar asked, confused. “Is it because I’m short?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Hawkeye laughed. “Got anything good for us?”

“Letters for Captain Hunnicutt,” Radar handed him his letters, which he quickly drove into. “A letter from your dad Hawkeye, and a package from Boston.”

“Boston?” Hawkeye asked. “I think I once knew a girl from Boston.”

“Was she related to the man from Nantucket?” BJ asked without looking up from his letter.

“Oh god I hope so,” Hawkeye smirked.

“What?” Radar asked.

“I’ll explain when you’re older.” Hawkeye laughed, to which Radar glared and marched out. Hawkeye laid the letter from his dad to the side and looked at the brown wrapped package. It was addressed to him. He wasn’t sure who it could be from, until he saw the return address in the corner.

The McIntyre’s.

“Ah ha!” Hawkeye laughed. “Oh, that old son of a bitch!”

“What? Who?” BJ asked.

“Trapper! This package is from him!” HAwkeye said excitedly. “God, what could it be? Knowing him, he probably stuffed it full of paper and put a chocolate bar in it or something.” BJ just laughed as Hawkeye tore into the box.

There was brown paper in it, and on top of it was a letter in an envelope. Hawkeye took the envelope and opened it.

Captain Pierce,

You probably don’t really know me outside of stories that John has told you. And who knows what kind of things he said then. My name is Louise McIntyre, and I’m John’s wife. I wasn’t sure how to best tell you this, so I just thought I’d write you a letter, because I’m not sure if I could find it in myself to utter the words.

John was in Chicago for a job interview. A very nice position at a hospital in the heart of the city. Becky, Kathy, and our son JT were there with him. He had gone to the hospital while myself and the kids went to have a day in the city. John never came back. He was hit by an impaired driver when he went to go at a stop light. The driver hit his side of the car, trapping him inside. John only survived about twelve hours afterwards. I’m sorry I have to tell you. I really wish I didn’t have to. I sent you a few things of John’s that I thought you would want. I don’t expect a letter back.

All the best,

Louise McIntyre

Hawkeye let the letter slip from his hands as he stared forward. BJ noticed a change in the tent and looked up from his own letter, a frown on his face when he saw Hawkeye’s face.

“Hawk?” He asked. “You okay?”

“T-Trapper…”

“What?”

“Trapper’s dead.” Hawkeye finally said it. He didn’t think he’d be able to, but he did. “Oh god.”

“Oh man.” BJ moved to sit by him. “What happened?”

“Car accident in Chicago.” Hawkeye whispered. “He got hit.” BJ nodded and moved the box so he could properly sit on Hawkeye’s cot.

“That big of a box for a death letter?” BJ asked. Hawkeye snapped out of his daze and took the box, pulling back the brown paper to look inside. There wasn’t much in there. Trapper’s pair of glasses with the fake nose were in there, which made Hawkeye laugh.

“I got us each a pair of these from a little booth in Seoul,” Hawkeye smiled fondly, even though BJ could see the tears in his eyes. “These came in handy during many pranks.” Hawkeye paused for a moment. “He wore these for a whole day when Tommy Gillis died on my table.”

“Who’s Tommy Gillis?”

“My childhood best friend.” Hawkeye closed his eyes for a second before setting the glasses back in the box and pulling out the next item. A single dog tag. “John F. X. McIntrye.” BJ watched as Hawkeye ran his thumb over the cool metal before laying it back in the box. Just a few things remained, most of them pictures. They were things that Trapper took back with him to remember Hawkeye by. Pictures of the two of them smiling, laughing, annoying Frank, and other things. BJ watched as Hawkeye started to laugh and told him stories behind the pictures. The way he told everything made BJ feel like he had been there, like he knew Trapper as well.

Finally, as Hawkeye was about to put the pictures back in the box, he saw an envelope. He was addressed to him, with Trapper’s name and return address on it, with no stamp. Pulling it out, he opened it, almost dreading what it said.

Hey Hawkeye,

I bet you’re still wondering why I didn’t leave a letter behind or anything. I tried, but I just couldn’t. I didn’t want it to feel like I was saying goodbye, because when you get home, I’m coming to Crabapple Cove and dragging you to a football game. I know how much you like those. But there will be beer, and hey, you could bring some of that good stuff back in the thermos I left behind.

I’ve been sitting here in this office for a little bit, not sure what to write. Louise and I had a little boy nine months after I got back home. He’s named after his old man, so I guess he’s going to be the best looking kid in his school. Also, the girls say hi. They saw a picture of us that I have sitting in my office. I think Becky has a crush on you. Her cheeks get all pink and she runs off. They’re growing up so fast. I can’t wait for you to meet them.

I hope you don’t mind, but I went over to Crabapple Cove and met your dad. We had lunch, and he seemed to enjoy the stories I told him. Don’t worry, I kept the really scandalous ones away from him. Don’t want him thinking I’m a bad influence or something. He’s really a cool cat, but you knew that already, because he is your dad after all. He said he’s proud of you, he misses you, and his lobster bisque just doesn’t taste the same without you.

Anyway, I need to be going. We’re going to pick up a new car here soon. Louise wanted a Ford, I wanted a Chevy, so we compromised and got a Ford. Anyway, I’ll be seeing you when you get back to the world. Don’t be surprised if I kiss you in the airport.

So long old buddy,

Trapper

And that’s when it hit. The tears were heavy down Hawkeye’s face. Fat tears full of pain. He was supposed to be safe over there. There wasn’t a war going on three miles from where he slept. He was supposed to watch his kids grow up. He was supposed to lose those curls due to old age.

He was supposed to take Hawkeye to a football game to drink beer and pretend they had met someplace, anyplace else.

But instead, all Hawkeye could do was cry.

****

A week later, Radar had music playing over the PA as Hawkeye sat in his chair, reading a book. It was a beautiful day outside, and some of the guys were playing a game. BJ opened the door to the Swamp.

“Come on Hawk. I need some more muscle on my team.”

“I thought you had Margaret.” Hawkeye mumbled, not looking up.

“Yeah, well she got mad at me and defected to Igor’s side. Come on.” BJ sighed. “I’ll do your laundry next week if we win.”

“Now you’re talking.” Hawkeye shut his book and got up as Vera Lynn’s “We’ll Meet Again” played over the PA. With his lucky Hawaiian shirt on, Hawkeye grabbed his favorite hat from his cot, smiling for a moment at the framed picture of him and Trapper, before he followed BJ out.

#mash #fanfiction #trapper john #hawkeye #hawkeye pierce #trapper john mcintyre #4077 #alan alda #wayne rogers

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sierraraeck · 4 years ago

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Xena (Pt.2)

Aundreya Chambers

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Her attempt to fix things leads Aundreya directly to one of her greatest enemies, and to some of her greatest friends. Story nineteen.

Category: Angst, but it’s basically just like Aundreya working a “case.”

Warnings: Cussing. There is a knife fight and someone gets stabbed.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: I know this one is a little Aundreya-centric, but we will get back to the whole squad in a moment. Also, if this means something to you, I want you to think Dauntless from Divergent as far as building and overall vibe.

Everyone was in position.

Niko and one of the next in line, JT, were already inside as my back up. Deen had been giving us updates through ear pieces, and Roman, along with a team of trackers, was waiting outside of FBI headquarters for the jet to land. I was hopeful that we’d be done before they got back. Mateo was waiting outside of the building, watching the entrances. I didn’t want him inside, for fear he’d be too impulsive, plus he’d do a good job up against DeLeon if he happened to show up. I was waiting with him, both of us leaning up against the brick behind us waiting to get the call that Xena had shown up and it was time for me to go in.

“Would you come back?”

It was out of the blue, and I wasn’t sure what he was referencing. “What?”

“Would you come back?” he repeated. “After this is all over. Xena and DeLeon taken care of, the FBI safe, you and me and the rest of the team safe. Would you come back to us?”

I knew the other question hanging in the balance so I didn’t want to answer. Would you come back to me?

“I don’t know,” I replied, “I haven’t gotten that far.”

“Yes you have,” he said, finally glancing over at me, “You plan way too far ahead to not have an answer to that. Don’t lie to me.”

“Mateo, I-”

“Sounds like a no, then,” he bitterly threw at me, turning away.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. What do you expect us to do without you?”

“I didn’t say I was leaving,” I tried to circle back.

“Is there someone else?” he asked. The question shocked me. He wasn’t usually like this, but I guess a lot had changed since the last time I saw him.

“Uh, I mean, no.”

“Convincing,” he pressed his lips together.

Very nice, Aundreya. Just keep wrecking your relationships. It’s working really well for you.

I sighed, then stepped in front of him, making him look up at me. “There is no one else.”

It was barely a whisper when he asked, “An agent? Really?”

“Exactly,” I pointed out. “That’s why it doesn’t matter. It’s never going to work, so no. No one else.”

“Of course it matters, Alionth.” And he was right. It did matter, I just wanted it not to.

“No, it doesn’t,” I pleaded. “I haven’t seen you in three years, and yes, I made connections or whatever while I was away, but that’s all they were. Connections to get to the end goal, like I told you before I left. I was in a dark space for a while and one of them helped me out and that was it. End of connection. Plus, they’ve got someone, so like I told you earlier, it doesn’t matter. Mateo, I still lo-”

He cut me off, smashing his lips into mine. He pulled me closer and I kissed him harder, hands moving to his hair.

“She’s here,” Niko’s voice whispered in both our ears. He pulled away, drawing another small sigh from my lips as I looked into his eyes. It was almost like they represented the two different sides of him. Maybe the two different sides of me.

Mateo brushed his thumb over my jaw and softly said, “Don’t say that until you mean it.”

All I could do was nod and turn toward the door. “Be safe.”

“You too,” and then the room enveloped me in darkness.

There were a couple of dim, flickering lights that buzzed when the lightswitch was on, and I saw the outline of a woman about 30 paces from me.

“You know, it’s rude to keep your clients waiting,” her sing-songy voice rang across the room. “It’s a wonder you still have some coming to you.”

“Well, it’s also rude to frame someone for murder, so I guess we’re even,” I deadpanned. I heard her steps echo through the room as she approached me. I decided to meet her in the middle so I could see her better. No need to be surprised if I could help it.

When she entered the light, I saw that she had her long, wavy blonde hair back in a slick ponytail, and was wearing a long black trench coat with combat boots. Her hands were in her pockets.

“Still sour about that?”

“Still sour about the gang?” I fired back. It landed, like I knew it would. If I had to guess, she spent most days trying to push those thoughts back down. “I mean, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“If you want to phrase it that way, sure,” she plastered on a fake smile.

“Open your jacket,” I commanded.

“Excuse me?” she sounded offended, but I just stared at her. She relended with a sigh and opened it. There were two guns and an entire knife set in there.

“On the ground.” She dropped all three on the cement in between us. “And your boots.”

“So you haven’t forgotten everything,” she sneered, removing both of her boots. She flipped them upside down and shook, but nothing fell out.

“I haven’t forgotten anything.” I motioned for her to hand me her shoes. When she did, I ran my hand through both of them, finding a small blade taped to the sole. “Clever, but that has to be uncomfortable to walk on.” I tossed it in the center with the rest of her stuff.

“I’ll take the liberty on this one,” Xena said, ignoring me, turning both of her pockets inside out. “Your turn.”

I did a spin, showing her I had no pockets and I was wearing a short sleeved shirt with no place to hide things. Even though I was wearing tennis shoes, she still wanted me to empty them, so I did anyway.

“Well, now that that’s over,” I huffed, putting my shoes back on, “Why don’t we get to why you’re really here.” I walked over to a dark corner of the room where I’d been storing her grandfather’s ‘letter.’ I snached it off a small table and walked back over to her. She reached for it, but I pulled it away before she could grab it.

“What now?”

“So you and DeLeon are working together?” I asked.

“How does that have anything to do with you and I’s business?”

It was a valid question, but she already knew the answer. “Xena, I know you and DeLeon have been behind everything. You’re working together and now you’ve been talking with Agent Archer.”

“And?”

“And, you know how things with DeLeon end. He will take over any agenda you have. Whatever you want, you won’t get, because we both know DeLeon is a lying, impulsive, control freak. It’s only a matter of time before you get into an argument, and I don’t think that will end well for you,” I aimed to rattle her, but she seemed pretty stable.

“Who’s to say it won’t end well for him?”

“You. You literally told me that the first time I met him. ‘Be careful with that one, Aundreya. He has an unfortunate habit of always getting what he wants. No matter what.’ And you know what, you were right. I can attest to that,” I said, my voice getting quieter at the end.

“This is different,” she insisted.

“You can try to fool yourself, but you can’t fool me. I know things aren’t going well. Your progress has slowed down, and I’d guess it’s because you’re trying to plan things out, and he’s not listening to you.”

Xena shook her head. “You’re wrong.”

“What’s keeping you with him? You know you could just let him self destruct and come work with someone who actually thinks like you. Who could actually help you get stuff done,” I offered.

She immediately caught my drift, “Really? You want me to come work with you?”

I nodded.

“Why in the hell would I do that? You took everything from me! You took my position, my grandfather, my gang, even my love-”

“Your love?” Is she seriously saying that DeLeon is her ‘love?’

“Yes! You were the shiny new toy to play with and I was old news. It seemed like anything I was good at and loved, you were better at and took from me. You took my entire home, Aundreya, and fucking Rafael let you! There’s no coming back from that! There’s no forgiveness in order,” she shouted, then took a deep breath, and finished with, “Let alone a partnership.”

“Xena, you don’t understand. Your grandfather did those things because he wanted to keep you safe.”

“His name is Rafael, and I doubt that,” she snapped.

“I have his letter, his dying words to you. He wasn’t thinking of me, or DeLeon, or the gang in his last moments. He was thinking of you. That tells you something,” I softened my voice, and cautiously took a step toward her. If I could sway her to work with us, we might actually have a chance of taking down both Archer and DeLeon, and get out alive. If not…

“That he had regrets? Yeah, does me a lot of good now,” she hissed.

“But it might help ease some of those thoughts that have been nagging at you for years, give you some sort of closure. It might help you put it all aside and move on. Don’t you want that?” I asked. Her lack of response was enough for me to continue, “Come back to headquarters with me.”

“So you can ambush me? No thanks.”

“Come on. We can sit down and read this letter together. Plus, I have the little box he left it in with a variety of other stuff in it,” I offered.

“Why would you have held onto it this long?” her voice was incredulous and her face matched it.

“He was my mentor and at the time, my best friend’s family,” I gave her a pointed look, “And I know I don’t seem like it, but sometimes, I can be sentimental.” And the future possibility of leverage isn’t bad either.

I cautiously turned to head toward the door, my back facing her. Normally I would have faced her head on the entire way there, but I wanted to see if, and how quickly, she’d betray me. I heard a very soft scraping sound on the concrete, which could only mean one thing. I whipped around and caught her raised wrist, knife in hand.

“Wrong choice,” I muttered. I tweaked her wrist, causing her to drop the knife with a clatter, and I kicked her back the way she came. For the few moments she was winded, I looked upward toward the rafters and shook my head. I hoped Niko and JT understood that I didn’t need their help just yet. I was hoping to deal with her all on my own.

I sauntered toward her and leaned down in her face, wrapping a hand around her throat. Before I could do anything else though, she grabbed one of the guns behind her and hit me in the forehead with the butt. I stumbled back and placed my hand over the spot she hit, blood already streaming down the side of my face.

Bringing nothing to a gun fight hadn’t really been my intention, so I was just going to have to improvise. Instead of waiting around for her to shoot me, which she would, I rushed toward her as she attempted to get to her feet. I kicked her knee in with the heel of my foot, then stepped on her hand that held the gun. She held on, so I had no choice but to reach down and try to take it from her grasp. In the process, it went off, echoing through the walls with ear splitting volume. I didn’t know where it hit, and I didn’t really care as long as it wasn’t me or my boys. I finally yanked it from her hand and threw it across the room.

Xena scrambled to reach the pile of weapons we’d created earlier, but I lunged over her to get there first. I was about to grab hold of the second gun when she grabbed me by the ankles and pulled me back. I started thrashing, kicking my feet in whatever direction, hoping to hit her somewhere that would hurt. I heard her moan, so something worked, but I didn’t take the time to figure out what did. I reached for the other gun and threw it in the same direction as the first one. When it came down to it, I could beat Xena in a knife fight. Guns were too unpredictable.

In a flash, I saw a figure land in the darkness of the corner, pick up both guns, and disappear again. God I love them.

I grabbed the second largest knife, and the closest one to me, refocusing my attention on Xena. I turned on my back for a better angle, but when I did, she was on top of me. She grabbed hold of my wrist and brought the knife to my throat, barely grazing it. I brought my other hand up to try and force the blade back her way. She brought her knees down with all of her body weight on my chest, over and over and over again, beating the breath out of me, and in turn, forcing the blade closer to my throat.

“How does it feel?” she bit through clenched teeth. “How does it feel to know that you’re going to lose to me?”

I brought my knee up between her legs, and struck her across the face. I shoved the blade upward, hearing a crack as blood rushed down her nose, dripping onto my cheek. I used the strength I had left to force her on her back, effectively switching our positions.

“It feels great,” I growled, taking back control over the knife. I brought it down across her shoulder, a screech escaping her lips. I stood up and kicked her in the side before opening a gash across her abdomen. Blood was spilling onto the floor, and I moved toward the pile of knives to collect them before turning back to her. When I did, she had a stained piece of paper in her hands.

The letter. I must’ve dropped it during the fight.

I opened my mouth to make a comment about it, but instead got cut off by hysterical laughter. In her dying moments, Xena was laughing like a wild hyena. “Of course. That bastard would never. I should have known,” she croaked out between broken breaths.

The letter was empty, just a blank sheet of paper I’d shoved in an envelope. I never actually planned on giving it to her, at least, not that one, and honestly didn’t even believe our encounter would end any differently than it had. “The real one is back at the ring,” I nonchalantly informed her.

“It doesn’t exist,” she shook her head profusely.

“I guess we’ll never know.” I did, in fact, have a letter with writing on it back at headquarters in the off chance she agreed to help me. It was fake, I’d written it myself, but had she come back, she would have never known the difference.

I was about to leave her for dead when she called out, “You were right.”

“What?” I was so shocked by the words coming out of her mouth, that I walked over to make sure they actually were hers.

“The only reason I was looking into you, using Corbyn, was to get answers about Rafael and you. And why you were working with the same FBI team that closed in on the gang. Your gang. I wanted all the info I could get so I could hurt you, like you hurt me,” she finished with a chuckle, but immediately clutched her side, coughing.

“Why are you telling me this?” My voice was cold and demanding.

“To let you know that my intentions seem innocent compared to DeLeon’s.” The craze in her eyes was enough to make me take her seriously. “When he finds out that I’m dead, he’s gonna come for you.”

I didn’t let her rickety breaths and threatening words shake me. I wanted her last memory to be of her ultimate enemy standing over her, so I composed myself before leaning down to her ear and whispering, “I hope so.” I pulled away to see her wicked smile, one that you’d only see in horror movies or nightmares. My voice sounded chilling, even to me, as I mirrored her smile, announcing, “This is for Sydney.” Then I plunged the knife right through her heart, her crazed eyes turning dull, but that curled smile plastered on her face for death.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

“I’m fine, really,” I tried to convince the growing circle around me as we made our way to the infirmary. We’d hired a doctor that broke the law in order to save a patient’s life, costing her her license. She could no longer work at hospitals, but we paid her well and she could still do what she loved.

“You’re not. You can barely walk,” Deen was saying, his arm wrapped tight around me as we hobbled up the lavish staircase to her mansion. She did get to keep that though, and decided to run her little infirmary out of the unnecessarily big basement. Deen with his bad knee, and me clutching my ribs and stained with blood were probably quite a sight making our way up the stairs to her front door.

“Jesus, I didn’t realize it was this bad,” I heard Mateo’s voice declare from behind us. I’d sent him to make sure that everyone else was okay, and get a report from Roman and her people about the BAU. “Let me help.”

“Good luck with that one, bud,” Deen rolled his eyes, “You know how she is about help when she’s obviously the picture of health.”

“Let me,” Mateo offered.

“I’m fine you guys,” I insisted again.

“Alright,” Deen said, shrugging his shoulders and letting go of me. I nearly collapsed without his support, and I would have if Mateo hadn’t been there. He caught me and scooped me up bridal style.

“Deen, you are the worst best friend I’ve ever had. And the meanest,” I deadpanned.

He smiled brightly, “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“I will hit you.”

“I look forward to that, in, what?” he gestured to my broken and bloodied state, pretending to look at a watch, “Three months?”

I basically growled at him, to which Mateo chuckled and said, “Down girl.”

I turned my fiery eyes on him, which only made him laugh harder. “Could you have said that any louder?”

Mateo opened his mouth and started yelling, “DOW-” before I slapped my hand over his mouth. He kissed it, which made me smile, and I moved it to his cheek which he leaned into. I curled a little farther into his strong chest as he turned sideways so we could pass through the door. Niko was waiting for us at the top of the stairs to the basement, and followed us down. Mateo sat me gingerly on one of the beds, and stood back as the doctor, Doctor Madden, started getting to work on me.

She started with the gash on my forehead and worked her way down. She patched up the small cut on my neck, then had to pull my shirt off me to see what was happening on my side. She informed me that I had reopened the stitches from when I got shot, and most likely refractured the ribs that had been healing, or potentially broke them in new areas. She examined the rest of me, and besides a sprained ankle (I don’t know when or how that happened), everything else was just a bruise.

Long story short, I’d be hella-sore in the morning. Pure adrenaline was making up for it now.

I thanked Doctor Madden, and so did the twins as they entered the room. “Can you make sure that Deen-” I started.

“Deen has everything under control?” Deen finished my question as he waltzed into the room. “Yeah, he does.”

“Thank you,” I croaked. The exhaustion, physical and mental, was hitting me all at once.

“How long are you supposed to be like this?” he asked.

“She said over six months,” I said, raising my eyebrows, “But I’m hoping we can cut that at least in half. We don’t exactly have that kind of time.”

Mateo spoke up, “But hey, we can call this one a success. Mostly.”

I laughed, knowing the ‘mostly’ was directed at my four injuries. “Mostly,” I repeated.

“The Lions have done it again,” Mateo smiled.

“You’re still trying to make that work?” Niko and I asked at the same time.

“Yes. It’s perfect. Alionth. We can’t just keep calling it ‘the ring,’” Mateo mocked.

“We have for nearly ten years,” I pointed out.

“And, it’s more inconspicuous to say in public,” Niko acknowledged. I nodded and pointed at him to show my agreement.

“Lame. The Lions,” Mateo insisted.

“Alright,” I said, rubbing my eyes, “I’ll think about it?”

“You won’t, but I appreciate you saying that,” Mateo smiled. The light in his eyes seemed to warm me from the inside out, ans I bet someone could scientifically prove that his smiles healed. I felt just a little bit better whenever he did.

“I guess we’ll leave you to it,” Deen said, ushering Mateo and himself out of the room.

Niko started to follow, but hung back. “You know, Mateo-”

“I know,” I cut him off, “It was unfair of me to lean on him like I did and let us get that close before leaving. Once on my own accord and the other not.”

“True, but that wasn’t what I was going to say.” I looked up at him confused, but he answered my unasked question with, “I was going to say that Mateo isn’t the only one that wants you to stay. Sure, he’s got different and, one might even say bigger, reasons, and you know, he does still have feelings for you, but there are plenty of others of us that are hoping we can do enough to convince you to stay.” I opened my mouth to respond, but he kept talking. “You don’t have to answer right now, just promise me you’ll think about it.”

“Of course,” I promised, “And thanks again for, well, everything.” I gave him a quick, tight-lipped smile. He nodded at me, and then left, following his brother and friend out the door.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I was doing everything I could to recover as quickly as possible. Doctor Madden said that if I continued on this course, I might be ready to ‘lightly return’ after four to four and a half months.

I didn’t even make it halfway there.

I was falling asleep in the infirmary bed like I had every night for the past two months. I still had people tracking the BAU, and Archer who I was told was properly freaked out, telling me that they were all safe and that the only creepy people around were them. That brought me some sort of relief, yet I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Nothing Xena says can be taken too seriously. She religiously lied, and constantly tried to freak people out. Especially us, me in particular. But there was just something about her eyes and the way she told me about DeLeon that compelled me to believe her.

And I guess we all should have taken her more seriously.

Because that night after two months of recovery, I woke up to the sounds of scraping on the ceiling. It sounded like someone was rearranging the furniture. It wasn’t my place to judge what Doctor Madden did at 1am, but this had never happened before. I tried to ignore it. I mean, it wasn’t too loud and it stopped after a minute or two. Then I got this gut wrenching feeling. Call it instinct, call it the wind, but something was wrong and I knew it. I opened my eyes and made a move to get out of bed, but it was too late. I could smell the chloroform all around me.

I tried to get out of bed, but all my injuries were delicate and I couldn’t move very fast. I tried to identify where the smell was coming from so I could get rid of it. It was a small rag trapped in the railing on the underside of the bed, near my pillow. Once I found it, the only thing I remember is a panicked, peaceful darkness.

Series Taglist (open)

@justanothetfangirl @kris-stuff @blameitonthenight21 @wooya1224 @unded-bride @swiftingday @dezzxmx

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incorrectprodigalsonquotes · 5 years ago

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Carved in the Cradle Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Dani bit back an amused smile at the sight of Malcolm Bright fidgeting like a shy preschooler talking in front of the class for the first time. She had a feeling that if Jessica ever showed Bright’s childhood photos, she would find that he had that exact same look since he was a kid. All fidgeting with the sleeves of his uniform and luminous eyes too big for his face.

“Something you wanted to say, Bright?”

Normally Dani would cringe at the thought of using the almost singsong lilt her voice had taken on, but he was ridiculously easy to tease.

“U-um...” Malcolm cleared his throat. His face like it was on fire and he knew it wasn’t because of the tea he’d just had. “So my mother sort of--well, demanded that I show up at her gala in a couple of days.”

Dani raised an eyebrow, unsurprised. Jessica Whitly was a societal force to be reckoned with and it was little wonder that even her son, who dealt with killers on a daily basis, was unable to say no to her.

“So I gathered.”

Bright being jittery was normal. The constant fidgeting, the mundane rambling, the sheer awkwardness was wired into him from a young age if Gil’s stories of a young Bright were all true, but he seemed almost… nervous?

It didn’t make sense to her. Sure, he normally said some weird things and he had an unfortunate habit of sticking his foot in his mouth, but it was benign for the most part. It should’ve alarmed her about how comfortable she was around him, but the warmth of the tea she had still lingered, making everything about the already odd night pleasantly hazy.

“She also wanted me to bring a date.” Malcolm let out a wry chuckle, his hand rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly. “I mean I’m already bringing Isabella as a sort of fun-sized baby date given that Mother's so taken with her, but it’d be nice to have a friend there a-and--”

“Bright.”

Dani’s voice slowed into a low drawl as she took a step closer, her face inscrutable save for the glimmer of laughter in her eyes. She had to admit, it was pretty cute to see him so flustered.

“Are you asking me to be your date?”

“W-well, I--”

The instant he cleared his throat, she could see a change in his demeanour. The determined set of his jaw, the squared shoulders as he drew himself to his full height, the clarity in his eyes. It briefly reminded her of something that Edrisa had said about the change that came with Clark Kent taking off his glasses.

“I just thought it would be nice to take you to a fancy party where you wouldn’t have to arrest somebody and just enjoy yourself.”

“So it has nothing to do with you wanting to see me in a dress again?”

A teasing grin spread across Dani’s face as she tipped her head to the side. The sight of it made Malcolm’s confidence practically fly out the window, leaving him rambling so fast that he almost bit his tongue a few times.

“Of course, there’s no obligation for you to say yes.” He nervously ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “It’s just that you’re the only person I could think of when Mother said to bring a date. I know it’s probably not your thing, but--”

“Okay.”

“W-wait, what?” If his eyes got any wider, he could pass for a Disney Princess, all round and uncertain and saccharine sweet.

“Okay,” Dani’s eyes sparkled, the corners of them crinkling as she beamed at him. “I’ll go with you.”

“Really?” Malcolm’s anxiety practically melted away as he let out a relieved chuckle. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” Dani nodded, “But a girl needs a night off for dancing every now and then--”

She nearly took a step back as he beamed at her, nearly as bright as the sun itself, the livewire tension in his body just melting away and it wasn’t until she caught the scent of bergamot and old leather that she realized what was happening.

Was Bright… hugging her?

“Okay,” His voice was muffled, his face buried into her shoulder, “that’s amazing!”

Dani couldn’t help but burst out laughing as she absently patted his back, feeling more like she had an armful of excitable puppy rather than gangly profiler.

"Well, what are friends for, right?"

“Seriously,” Malcolm pulled away just enough so he could look at her, his arms still around her, “I owe you big time!”

“Bright--”

“No, I mean it,” he insisted with a shake of his head, still grinning ear to ear as if she had just given him the secret to all of life’s mysteries. “Anything you want, I’m yours for the week.”

Dani knew he would probably say something like that. Malcolm Bright was the kind of man who would go to the moon and back for the people he cared about, but she was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she had become one of those people.

She briefly considered having him buy her fancy tea blends every day for a year or getting tickets to a sold out performance at the New York Ballet, but he seemed so genuinely happy that she accepted that she could only think of one thing that seemed right.

“You can start with those waffles you promised in the morning.”

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

The bed was comfortable. Too comfortable.

Everything in the room was too tidy, too organized. The high end furniture gave Dani flashbacks of playing Tetris at the local arcade with her cousins, all neat blocks fitting together. The only things in the room that looked out of place were Dani’s clothes on a nearby loveseat and her duffle bag of extra clothes on the vanity. There was no real character to the room she was in, no personal touch.

Bright was right. These rooms were just like hotel rooms. At least there were silk pillowcases so she didn’t have to worry about her hair. Dani tossed and turned before she took her phone off the nightstand next to her and checked the time.

4:42 AM.

She stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought with a slight frown. When she was a kid, she would jump out of bed in the middle of the night to see what was on TV so early in the morning, curled up on the couch with her blanket wrapped around her like a cape. But it wasn’t like she could do that now.

This not being her home aside, Bright’s TV was way too big to subtly turn on and just watch with the captions. The high definition alone would be enough to wake both him and Isabella.

Then again…

Bright could be awake right now. Maybe he could use some company. She could just sneak downstairs and check in on--

Before she could make her decision, she faintly heard a high pitched squeal coming from downstairs. She absently let her hair down from her pineapple updo and made use of the fluffy white robe that was hanging in the closet before heading down. No one needed to see her in short shorts and a thin nightshirt.

What she saw made her stop at the foot of the stairs.

She found Bright on the ground with his legs tucked under him, a wide awake Isabella lying on a fuzzy blanket with numerous toys strewn about around them.

Wait.

Was he wearing glasses?

Dark thick frames that were so close to slipping down Malcolm’s nose as he sat with Isabella with a bunch of toys and blankets around her. It was unexpectedly cute. Something about those glasses stirred up a bit of fascination for stripped down, barebones Bright in the early hours of the morning--

She mentally shook her head. It was probably just her groggy mind that was thinking that though. Bright wasn’t even her type anyways, no matter how mesmerizing his eyes were.

Malcolm tried lulling Isabella to sleep again, but the little girl just kept smacking plushies in his face and blowing raspberries, her face crinkled into a happy grin. Dani bit back a laugh when she saw how Malcolm couldn’t help but smile at the baby girl as he gently grasped a chubby fist. Bright made a front about being strict with Isabella about bedtime, but he really was just a big old marshmallow when it came to babies.

“Come on, Izzy.” Dani heard Malcolm cajole the baby as the little one batted at his face. “You need to get some sleep or you’ll be cranky. And I don’t think either of us wants to see that.”

Izzy.

The nickname was enough to make Dani smile. She was too half asleep to consider that maybe forming a bond with the baby may not be the best idea. Isabella continued to gurgle as her tiny starlike hands patted Malcolm’s face, letting out a high pitch giggle when she managed to grab his nose.

“Izzy,” he whined, inciting even more giggling from the little girl, “Could you let go of my nose please? I kind of need to breathe and contrary to what lolo Gil thinks, I’d like to keep breathing.”

His nasally voice did nothing to stop the laughter coming from the baby.

Malcolm was removing Isabella’s hand when he heard a tiny laugh from behind him. He turned to see Dani on the stairs, wrapped in a fluffy robe with her arms crossed, watching in amusement.

“Sorry,” she murmured, giving him a sheepish smile. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, no,” Malcolm shook his head as he picked up Isabella, “Did we wake you?”

“Hardly. I just couldn’t sleep.”

Dani’s footsteps were steady as she padded her way towards them, making Isabella turn her wide eyes to her with a coo. It still amazed her how much the little girl’s eyes were just like Bright’s, all guileless and moonlike in that shade that wasn’t quite blue or green.

A smirk took over Malcolm’s face, a playful spark in his eyes as he made room for her to sit.

“I thought we agreed you should avoid picking up my bad habits.”

“Pot calling the kettle black, Bright,” she shot back as she took Isabella from him, the little girl wrapped her tiny arms around the detective’s neck, letting out a tiny kitten-like yawn as she rested her head on Dani’s shoulder.

“For real, have you slept at all?”

Malcolm shrugged.

“Bright...”

Dani narrowed her eyes at him as he simply shrugged, shaking her head as she felt Isabella tangle her hands in her curls. Her face fell into a familiar expression, what JT had affectionately named her ‘why you always lying’ face during the first case they worked together.

“Got about four hours before I woke up,” he said, giving her a wry grin in return before nodding towards Isabella. “Then little miss night owl got up a few minutes later and I haven’t been able to get her back to sleep.”

Dani couldn’t blame him. She’d heard horror stories of sleepless nights from her oldest sister, but she could already sense Isabella starting to relax in her arms, absently rubbing the little girl’s back. Isabella was already much easier to handle than Dani’s niece and nephew.

“Well, we’ve already exhausted all your options. Let me try something.”

She didn’t think his eyes could get any bigger, but leave it to Bright to prove people wrong.

“You don’t have to--”

“You need to rest.” Her tone brokered no room for discussion. “We need to be up at six. Try to sleep for another hour. Make it an even five hours,” she added with a smirk.

“Five isn’t an even number.” Malcolm chuckled as Dani shot him a playful glare, holding his hands up in surrender. “Alright, but if you need help--”

“I’ll wake you, now go to sleep.” She gazed at him with stern eyes, practically daring him to ignore her. “Please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Dani shooed him to bed with a roll of her eyes, her smile tender as she looked back down at Isabella.

Malcolm felt sore and exhausted, barely remembering to take off his glasses as his head hit his pillow. He could hear Dani softly speaking to Izzy as his eyes fell shut.

Wait.

That wasn’t it. She was singing.

“Moon river… Wider than a mile...”

Dani crooned as she rocked the baby, who seemed to settle down the more she was sung to. Her voice was--

Malcolm already found her voice steadying for his nerves, honeyed contralto with the slightest hint of gravel to it, but her singing?

“I’m crossing you in style someday... Oh dream maker, you heart breaker...”

He let out a content sigh, having no words for once. He didn’t realize he was smiling as he let Dani’s singing lull him to a gentle sleep.

“Wherever you’re goin’, I’m goin’ your way...”

And for once, he felt nothing but peace.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

“Our prime suspect is Evan Huntington.”

Malcolm went straight into never-miss-a-detail profiler mode as he fed Isabella her bottle. The baby was kicking one leg with glee as she drank her milk.

“He had a previous relationship with our victim, who’s vastly different personality-wise from his usual flings and even his own wife. The fact that Arianna doesn’t look like any of them is another inconsistency in his behaviour.”

“So let me get this straight.” JT interrupted with a grimace that Edrisa liked to refer to as his ‘turtle face’. “This guy sleeps with the women at his office…” his nose scrunched up as he tried to process what he heard, “and then to get revenge, his wife sleeps with them too?”

“Yup.” Dani had an identical look on her face and for a second, Malcolm mistook them for siblings. “Gwendolyn even tried to get me and Bright to sleep with her when we interviewed her.”

Gil let out a laugh of disbelief as JT looked like he swallowed a crateful of lemons.

“Tell me you’re kidding, Powell.”

“I really wish I was,” she snorted before shooting a sly look at Bright. “You should’ve seen Bright's face. You could pinpoint the exact moment his brain started imploding.”

Malcolm just narrowed his eyes at Dani playfully as she teasingly narrowed her eyes back at him.

“Does Evan even know about Isabella?” Gil questioned, frowning at the idea of such a bright little girl being raised by someone as flippant and dismissive as a Huntington.

Malcolm pursed his mouth as he looked down at the baby, who had abandoned her bottle in favour of playing with the grey silk pocket square tucked into his blazer.

“He knows she exists, but he refuses to acknowledge that he’s her birth father. Arianna was already pretty adamant about keeping him out of Izzy’s life.”

If he was being honest, he was hoping this little girl couldn’t be taken away by that man. He couldn’t imagine what would happen to Isabella if she were to grow up with that so-called family. Would she be loved? Would she even be taken care of or would she end up neglected like the characters in one of Ainsley’s historical romance novels?

“Who are the Huntingtons anyways?” JT cut in, his arms crossed. “‘Cause all I’m getting from this is bleach blonde one percenters who moonlight as cartoon villains and make deals with the devil.”

Malcolm and Gil paused at this, giving JT identical sidelong looks in near perfect synchrony. JT rolled his eyes. Gil isn't my dad, my ass.

“Miri and Noa have been really into Gravity Falls lately. The Huntingtons sound just like the Northwests.”

“I'll take your word for it.” Malcolm adjusted Isabella in his arms, letting her sit on his hip as he set aside her bottle. “Let’s just say the Huntingtons are richer than most of New York combined--”

“Which means they get away with murder all the time. That’s why we need to find something concrete that could connect them to Arianna’s murder,” Dani added, “And I don't think Evan Huntington’s willing to take a paternity test.”

Isabella interrupted with a small shriek before playing with Malcolm’s pocket square again. The team let out a laugh at her outburst, Malcolm especially.

“Exactly. See guys, she gets what we’re saying.”

As he continued with his profile, Malcolm didn’t notice that Isabella started trying to copy the swift way he gesticulated whenever he talked, nearly in time with him. The sight of her waving her chubby little arms with the same wide, unblinking expression mirrored on Malcolm’s face was adorable.

Gil couldn’t help but chuckle as he was paying more attention to the baby than the man she was imitating. Just as Malcolm was going to explain more about Evan Huntington, his face suddenly twisted. The older man raised an eyebrow in concern.

“You okay, Bright? And don’t just brush it off with an ‘I’m fine’.”

“I’m fine. Really,” Malcolm insisted after getting a look from Gil before letting out a chuckle, “It’s more to do with Isabella here and the fact that she needs a change.” Isabella giggled as Malcolm shouldered her diaper bag with practiced ease, “I’ll be right back.”

“Just be glad you’re not dealing with two of them at once!”

JT called out as Malcolm left the room, much to Dani and Gil’s amusement.

“You think you’re done, but then the other one needs changing,” he grumbled. “And it doesn’t help when they look the same so you don't remember which one you just changed.”

“At least yours are both girls,” Dani quipped, the corner of her mouth tilting up as she remembered. “Mona kept confusing her kids for months and she had one of each.”

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

When Malcolm returned, he was surprised to find that Edrisa had joined them.

“Bright!” She lit the second she saw him. “Right on time!”

He chuckled as he placed Isabella in her stroller and gave her a few toys to distract her. He glanced at Dani for a second before doing a double take, his eyes comically wide.

“Wait,” he managed to choke out, his mouth suddenly dry. “What’s happening here?”

Jessica might have drilled the idea of being a gentleman into him, but even that didn’t stop him from staring at the corset that was hugging Dani’s slim frame. It was a more subtle design than most, but the champagne silk and delicate gold embroidery against her deep blue shirt highlighted her dark hair and made her olive skin practically glow.

The only thing jarring this image was the gaping hole in the corset just below Dani’s sternum.

“We found Arianna’s corset in the dumpster outside her building,” JT cut in, looking almost amused at the way Bright was looking at Dani. “Seems our killer didn’t account for the garbage not being collected until the weekend.”

“And according to the shop owners where Arianna would buy her corsets, this is one of their designs, but this isn’t their corset,” Dani explained before she let out a hum of appreciation, looking down at the corset in consideration.

Malcolm furrowed his brows, still not taking his eyes off her.

“How could they tell?”

“That’s the best part,” Edrisa grinned in excitement, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “If you take a close look at the stitching, you’ll see that this corset was machine stitched when they exclusively sell hand-sewn corsets only.”

The coroner nodded in approval as she added, "Plus they pride themselves on being cruelty-free and using eco-friendly materials.” She paused at the incredulous looks everyone was giving her. “What? My stepdad talks about them all the time. He did a collaboration with them for his last fashion line."

Malcolm’s eyes were sharp with focus as his hand hovered over at the stitching of the corset, ignoring the hole left from a knife having gone through it.

“Amazing.”

His fingers barely brushed over the curved seam above the hip when he faintly heard someone clear their throat. Gil, most likely.

“Bright?”

Malcolm was startled out of his thoughts, looking up to see Dani staring down at him with her eyebrows raised and her nose scrunched in confusion and he was suddenly very aware of just how close he was to her.

“Right, sorry.” He cleared his throat, a high flush stark against his pale skin. “So why’s Dani wearing it?”

“So glad you asked,” Edrisa piped up, clapping her hands in excitement. “Since we need to figure out what about it killed Arianna, Dani volunteered to try it out...”

Her smile turned into a pout, “So far no luck. We’ve laced it up as tight as possible, but it’s not like Dani’s squashed like a tin of sardines. It doesn’t seem like it’s difficult to breathe in it.”

Dani was reminded of a confused puppy at the bewildered expression that overtook Malcolm’s face.

“You’re fine?”

She nodded, her brow wrinkled in thought.

“Yeah,” she muttered, her hands smoothing down the front panel of the corset. “It doesn’t even feel like I’m wearing it, honestly.”

Just then Isabella let out a very loud cry, startling everyone. Everyone turned to see her plush owl on the floor, the little girl’s face scrunched up when her stubby little arms couldn’t reach it. Malcolm was quick to grab it and hand it back to her, earning him a toothless grin that matched his answering one.

He wasn’t expecting to hear someone suddenly collapse behind him.

They all turned and their eyes widened in horror at the sight before them. Dani was sprawled across the floor, eyes wide and lips turning pale as she gasped for air.

“Dani!”

Malcolm charged towards her in a panic, ignoring the near scrapes as he fell to his knees next to her. He couldn’t help but curse as his fingers fumbled, desperately trying to undo the corset which seemed to be getting tighter and tighter by the second. Gritting his teeth in frustration when he couldn’t get the knot out, he whipped out a pocket knife from his suit jacket and slashed through the laces before ripping it off her.

He was so going to hear it from Gil later, a scolding about unauthorized weapons already ringing in his ears, but at the moment Malcolm could focus on nothing but Dani.

He nearly slumped over her in relief as Dani started gasping as air began to flow through her lungs once again. She weakly grabbed Malcolm’s arms as he cradled her to him, keeping her upright against his chest. He barely registered flinging the damn corset away from her, now a pitiful crumpled mess on the floor.

“I-I couldn’t breathe…” Dani finally managed to choke out, her knuckles white from her grip on him. “I couldn’t breathe!”

Malcolm’s heart thundered almost violently as he stroked her hair, not letting her go as cool air started to fill her lungs again. Dani could practically feel it from where she had her head resting on his chest, the rhythm soothing her as she closed her eyes in exhaustion.

Malcolm briefly looked up at Gil, his expression grim, a spark of fury making his eyes electric.

“I think we know how this thing is our murder weapon.”

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"JT just texted, they’re on their way back." Gil reported as he pocketed his phone.

His expression was grim as he saw the man he considered a son freeze in the middle of his frantic pacing back and forth with a clingy Isabella on his hip. Malcolm hadn't been able to go to the hospital with Dani because the little girl saw him trying to leave the room and he wasn't able to do it in face of her tears.

“Is…” he hesitated, swallowing thickly. “Is Dani going to be okay?”

If Gil noticed that his eyes were a little red, he had the sense not to say anything.

“He said that both Edrisa and the hospital doctor confirmed that Dani only has some mild bruising. You managed to get the corset off her before any permanent damage was done.”

Malcolm didn’t seem to take any comfort in that. The almost pout on his face was enough to make Gil smirk.

“Kid, she’s gonna be okay. She’s from the Bronx, tougher than both of us combined, remember?” He unconsciously relaxed as he saw Malcolm let out a tiny smile. “Quick thinking with the knife, by the way,” he added, his tone almost smug.

He barely managed to keep his expression stern as the pout on Malcolm’s face dissolved into a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression. It was the same face he had made the time the then officer had caught a twelve year old Bright attempting to smuggle a cageful of budgies--which Gil had later learned he ‘liberated’ from a neglectful owner--into his room, he couldn’t help but note.

“I justified it at the time,” he admitted sheepishly as Izzy patted his stubble, “but in hindsight, probably not the best idea to have a knife on me if I’m taking care of a baby.”

“Common sense kicks in at last,” Gil chuckled as Malcolm’s face flushed with rare embarrassment, “At least I don't have to make that my next point.”

At least, he hoped he didn’t have to. Had the kid even kept his wall of weapons out of the baby’s line of sight? He kept a straight face, but he was practically screaming internally at the thought.

“By the way,” Malcolm added as he placed Izzy back in her stroller, “my mother’s going to be stopping by to pick up Isabella while I go take care of something.”

“Where you off to, kid?”

“I, uh, I’m gonna see Ainsley.” He glanced away, still fidgeting with the stroller’s handles, “I haven’t talked to her for a few days, though I’d check up on her.”

“And Isabella?”

“Don’t worry,” Malcolm let out a tense chuckle, “That’s why I already called Mother, she’s more than happy to watch her for a few hours.”

Gil gave an understanding smile.

“I can keep an eye on Isabella until Jess gets here. Can’t be much different than babysitting Tala. Go see Ainsley.”

Malcolm’s smile was solemn as he knelt down to face Isabella. The baby just grinned at him and reached out to pat his face.

“I’m only going to be gone for a little while, okay? Mother’s going to take you on another adventure, that’ll be fun, right?”

Isabella gurgled as she hugged her owl, the plush toy squished against a chubby cheek.

“I’ll be back soon, Izzy.” As he stood up to leave, he turned to Gil once more. “Thanks for doing this, Gil.”

“Anytime, kid.”

As Malcolm walked away, Gil knelt down and gave Isabella a smile. The baby let out a light squeal as she reached out to him, the tips of her tiny fingers barely grazing his beard. She reminded him of Tala, his only grandchild when she was that age, wide eyed and curious and grabbing anything that caught her eye.

Once he took her back to his office, Isabella started to get fussy. He picked her up, immediately realizing what she wanted as he took the bottle of formula she hadn't finished yet. Gil couldn’t help the fond smile that overtook his face as her big blue eyes stared up at him, gurgling as a chubby fist stroked his chin. She started kicking a leg as if to say she was enjoying her snack.

“You just wanna do everything at once, don’t you?” He would firmly deny that he cooed at Isabella if one of his officers saw him like this. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you took after Bright.”

He didn’t get a response nor did he expect one, but the gummy smile that lit up her face as she reached for her bottle gave him a sense of understanding.

Then a wave of regret hit him. If Evan Huntington knew about Isabella now, why hadn’t he taken her away?

The lieutenant decided then and there that that sorry excuse for a man wouldn’t have a chance at ruining this little girl’s life.

Not if he had anything to say about.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

After the rollercoaster that had been the blackout and Endicott’s stabbing, Malcolm and Jessica somehow managed to keep Ainsley from being sent to prison by the skin of their teeth. Malcolm was the first to admit that it wouldn’t have been possible without the help of Gil, Dani, and Edrisa. Even JT, much to the surprise of both mother and son.

But it didn’t stop Jessica from finding it fit to send Ainsley to a rehabilitation facility of sorts. Phoenix Rehab, which the Milton matriarch had said had glowing reviews was a facility usually housed teenage heirs to fortunes with so-called attitude problems and wealthy housewives who found that something about their life just wasn’t enough and needed supposed space to breathe.

Very rarely were there people like Ainsley, who genuinely needed help and needed to understand themselves and their actions.

Malcolm had been against the idea at first. It was already public knowledge that Ainsley was The Surgeon’s daughter, but if the staff were to find out what had really happened that night...

He shuddered at the thought of Ainsley being raked over hot coals by the fallout.

Jessica, still reeling from what happened, had suggested Ainsley stay there for at least six months. She was reluctant to cut Ainsley off from society, but she felt that her daughter definitely needed to be somewhere where she didn’t have to deal with media vultures. Especially when Ainsley couldn’t call herself the well-adjusted Whitly anymore.

But from the start, their mother had made it clear that if Ainsley ever wanted to come back home, whether it be for the weekend or forever, she would welcome her with what Gil dubbed as the Whitly equivalent of arms wide open.

His sister had ended up making a deal with Jessica. If she could find even one thing she liked about the place--whether it was the food, the meditation classes, even just the comfy mattresses and the freedom to decorate her room as she saw fit--within a week...

Then she would concede to stay the six months Jessica had recommended.

Soon six months had come and gone, Jessica and Malcolm making various efforts to visit her at least once a week and Ainsley making quite a few visits back to the Whitly family home. Though she always stubbornly insisted that she didn’t need them to check up on her so much, especially considering the long drive.

But for reasons no one seemed to understand, the youngest Whitly always seemed eager to go back.

Ainsley clearly seemed to be improving. She half-begrudgingly admitted to Malcolm that she may have been ignoring her own mental health and she managed to come to terms with what she had done, making peace with it more or less.

But it still didn’t stop the guilt that she felt every time she saw a crime news report. Nicholas Endicott was nothing short of a monster for all the trauma he had put them through and she wasn’t sorry he was dead. But what worried her the most was that something in her--something twisted, something she could have inherited from the dark underbelly of Martin Whitly’s psyche--had snapped and she just couldn’t stand by and watch scum like him get what he wanted.

Whether it was him lusting after their mother or having Malcolm and Gil at his mercy, she couldn’t let him get away with murder.

Not again.

Not anymore.

She was only sorry for how it had made her notorious, serial killer father downright giddy.

Even more sorry that her mother and brother had been left to deal with the consequences.

And before long, six months turned to seven, to eight, then nine, but as time ticked on, Ainsley Whitly seemed to have no intention of coming home for good.

Malcolm was brought over to where Ainsley was lounging on an open patio. She looked comfortable in a flowy white tunic top and matching leggings, her hair fabulous and effortlessly styled as always.

She seemed at an easel painting... something?

He couldn’t tell if she was trying for peacock feathers or she accidentally started channeling Klimt with all the greens and golds.

“Before you say anything, I’m just playing around with this,” Ainsley said without looking up. “I will smear green paint in your hair.”

And that was Ainsley all over. She always seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to her big brother trying to tease her. He simply grinned as he walked over to her, meeting her halfway for a bear hug before he sat next to her.

“Hey bro,” she grinned, “it’s been eighty four years. Please tell me you brought truffle cupcakes instead of just your sorry mug.”

Malcolm couldn’t help but snort as he shook his head.

“Hi Ains. Good to see you’re still you.”

She blew a raspberry, wagging her paintbrush at him in a way that reminded him of the way great-aunt Martha Antoinette would wag her finger, seafoam green manicure almost blinding whenever she scolded him or their mother.

“Your last visit was over a week ago. You finally coming to terms that you don’t need to be checking up on me so much?”

“It’s not that. I’ve just been…” His mouth twisted as he tried to figure out how to even begin to explain everything, “busy the last few days. How’ve you been?”

“Pretty good. I’ve taken up painting obviously,” she smirked, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “You think if I grew facial hair, I could be Bob Ross?”

“Ains,” Malcolm barely got out, his shoulders shaking with laughter, “I think it takes more than mere facial hair to even pass for Bob Ross.”

“Rude,” she scoffed playfully before trailing off. “I dunno,” she added with a shrug, “I’ve been painting a lot of happy trees lately and I could do with another hobby.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” A relieved smile spread across his face. “How’ve you been doing?”

“Okay for the most part. I’ve been binge-watching The Good Place the past couple of days. I don’t get all the hype, but it was actually pretty good. Though the philosophy bits just confuse the hell out of me.”

“Well, it’s an acquired taste for some.”

Malcolm chuckled, remembering how JT’s face had scrunched up when he and Tally were debating about ethics in the latest episode during their last group outing. JT preferred everything straightforward while Tally liked diving into symbolism and the intricacies of foreshadowing.

And yet the two opposites had just celebrated their tenth wedding anniversary.

The siblings shared a moment of comfortable silence before Ainsley spoke up.

“You came here to ask me something.” She crossed her arms over the table and leaned forward, her knowing eyes befitting of her passion for journalism. “And don’t deny it, you know you can’t hide anything from Whitly women, bro. What is it?”

For once, he carefully thought over his words.

“You gave Mom the six months she wanted. Your doctors say you’re more than equipped to return to your job and your regular life.” He frowned in confusion as Ainsley looked down at the table, almost curled into herself. “You don’t have an insatiable bloodlust, you don’t take pleasure in hurting people. I can’t imagine what must have been going through your head at the time--”

His eyes softened when he saw her look so small, so unlike her confident self. As much as he initially thought otherwise, he hadn’t been the only one affected by their father.

“But I do understand being afraid of what you could be capable of. And I know that it was a result of trauma and stress, but what happened obviously came from a very logical and rational urge to protect our family.”

“I know,” Ainsley mumbled before looking back up at her big brother, “I’m usually good at getting that through my head--I’m still scared that something will happen again. I’ll suddenly get this pang in my chest at the realization that yes, maybe I did kill to protect my family. Maybe his death helped to save the lives of innocent people who would have died because of him...”

Her voice wobbled, her eyes suspiciously bright and it was like she was five years old again, confused and hanging onto the hem of her big brother’s sweater.

“But none of that changes the fact that I did kill him. I killed him and I don’t even remember doing it.”

Malcolm placed a hand on her shoulder as he noticed her eyes glaze over, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m not saying that I’m worse off than you or you can’t understand what it’s like--but you’ve had this stigma of being Martin Whitly’s son for twenty years. It sucks, but at least it’s a constant for you. Imagine feeling like you’re doing fine and then all of a sudden, you’re hit with the guilt of something you actually did and can’t take back. Something you can never change.”

Malcolm held out his other hand and Ainsley was quick to take it, much like when they had been kids and she had held her brother’s hand because she was afraid of the high dive at the pool at Grandma Liz’s house.

“I feel that less here, but I’m still reminded.”

“You’re not a bad person, Ains. Single minded maybe, but that’s hardly the worst trait for a journalist to have.”

She let out a wry laugh.

“But I still killed a man and that changes things.” She pursed her lips as she let out a sharp exhale. “I don’t know if I can ever feel normal again.”

Malcolm nodded. Didn’t he have so many sleepless nights over that during the past twenty years? Maybe it was something only family could understand.

“Welcome to my world,” he jested, the beginnings of a teasing smile unfurling.

“I guess it was only a matter of time.” Ainsley let go of his hand, her laughter given way to a resigned sigh. “And I know Mom misses me, but now she’s asking me to either come back for this gala or give great-grandma Catherine ‘the Great’ something to roll over in her grave about.”

“Well, she was the life of the party back in her day,” he shrugged.

He vaguely remembered a larger than life old woman in an Audrey Hepburn style black dress and opera gloves, laugh lines around Milton blue eyes and streaks of silver in her chestnut hair. Malcolm had been four when she passed away, but he could still recall his young self balancing on her ruby red shoes as she led him in wide sweeping circles across the dance floor.

“And let’s face it, you definitely take after her ‘cause you’re much better at the whole gala thing than I am. I wouldn’t even know how to talk to anyone, really.”

“Wait,” Ainsley turned to him in disbelief. “You, Professor Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome, are actually going? Willingly?”

“Yeah, and here’s the kicker. Mother wanted me to bring a date.”

Ainsley let out a snort, her expression sly.

“Because you’re so clearly fighting them off with a stick?”

“Oh, ha, ha. Very funny,” he retorted with a roll of his eyes.

“What are you going to do when you show up without a date?”

Malcolm went quiet, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves and looking at anything but her. Ainsley’s eyes went wide with shock and delight, her reporter mind quickly connecting the dots.

“No. Way. Malcolm Alexander Bright! You actually have a date?”

Malcolm squirmed in embarrassment, his ears turning red.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a date exactly--”

“It’s Dani, huh?”

“Wha--” Malcolm just blinked at her in bemusement, “I just--how’d you even--”

“Figure it out? Oh please,” Ainsley rolled her eyes, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You couldn’t be more obvious. I mean, you literally talk about her every time you come visit.”

He froze at that, eyes so wide that she thought they’d pop out at any given second. Malcolm briefly wondered how his sister could read him so easily now. It had to have been the result of her almost year long stay here.

“I do?”

He winced at the way his voice almost cracked.

“Yup,” she nodded, practically preening with unholy glee. “It’s always the same thing. You tell me about a case, update me on Gil, guess the JT name of the week, and you end on some hilarious joke Dani made, usually at your expense. Which confirms you being a masochist because you find those the funniest,” she added in afterthought.

Ainsley settled back in her seat, grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

“So tell me, big brother. How’d you manage to trick her into saying yes?”

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Dani wasn’t normally one to simply stay at her desk, but she couldn’t help the soft smile on her face as she watched Gil and Isabella through the window of his office, the baby laughing as Gil made funny faces. It had been a while since she saw him like this, but lolo Gil was definitely a good look on him.

“Oh, Detective Powell!”

She snapped out of her thoughts a posh voice called out to her, accompanied by the crisp sound of heels clicking with each step across the floor.

“Hello, Mrs Whitly.”

Dani looked up at the older woman with a polite smile. Jessica Whitly reminded her of the high society ladies from the reruns of Dynasty that her Granmè used to watch when she was little. Affably dramatic with those close to her, but scrappy enough to get down and dirty when she needed to if breaking an antique vase over Watkins’ head was any indication.

Dani nearly had to cover her eyes when she spotted the bright, friendly smile on the other woman’s face, a sharp contrast with the navy suede trench coat and muted silver heels she wore. Well, at least she knew where Bright got it from now.

“Oh no, dear, Mrs Whitly was my former mother-in-law,” Jessica chuckled airily, waving off the formality. “Given how attached my son is to you, you simply must call me Jessica. It’s lovely to see you again.”

“It’s nice to see you too.”

It should’ve been awkward, talking to Bright’s mother like this as if her relationship with her son was something more profound than friendship, but honestly?

Jessica wasn’t as bad as some of the other high society mothers she had come across since meeting Bright. She was a lot of things; nosy, opinionated, a little judgemental at times when it came to Gil or her children’s choices. But she didn’t let her shortcomings stop her from trying to do right by the people she cared about.

The subtle smile on Dani’s face was genuine, even as the detective cleared her throat upon recalling last night’s invitation.

“Oh, by the way, I thought you should know that Bright invited me along.”

“Invited you along...?” The older woman feigned ignorance with a quizzical tilt of her head, a rare moment of mischief for her.

“Uh,” Dani hesitated for a second, absently biting her lower lip before she just came out with it. “Just that he extended the invitation for your gala... thing. He wasn’t really specific about what it was.”

“Oh,” Jessica lit up, clasping her hands together in delight, “So Malcolm did ask you after all! Finally. I knew that boy had a bit of the Milton persistence in him if I gave him a little nudge in the right direction, so to speak.”

Dani swallowed a chuckle, remembering the little family history lesson Bright had given them during the impromptu tour of the Whitly family home.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Oh, this is wonderful, dear! So tell me, what do you plan on wearing?”

Oh.

Dani hadn’t really thought about what she would wear to an upscale event like that. Her family was comfortably middle class and the Powells’ idea of fancy was a night at the New York ballet and a late dinner at the Havana Café.

“Um, I don’t really have a lot of options. Just that dress Bright bought me for a case a while back.”

“That fabulous oxblood gown you wore to the Taylor wedding?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dani let out a laugh, simply shrugging a shoulder. “I thought about having my mom upcycle it and add some sheer lace sleeves, maybe a peekaboo collar.”

“As inventive as that may be and I will be asking for your mother’s number later,” Jessica looked momentarily intrigued by the idea before she shook her head, “I cannot let you be seen in that.”

Dani was nearly taken back, her brows raised in disbelief.

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Jessica started, “That dress is gorgeous and you looked stunning as always. I've lost count of how many times people have come up to me and asked who you were after you flawlessly took down the Countess of Monte Cristo, not even a hair out of place.”

Jessica’s expression turned sly as she recalled how her son would start to frown in annoyance whenever he overheard a wealthy scion ask if the lovely detective was single. It may have led to a few ice cold glares whenever Dani wasn’t looking and the occasional possessive hand cupping the small of her back as he guided her through yet another dance, but the Milton matriarch would let Malcolm have his dignity.

For now, at least.

“But it’s practically an unwritten rule in the upper echelon, you simply cannot be seen in something you’ve already worn, especially when it comes to these sort of events.”

"I guess you have a point…" Dani conceded.

She might have had a brief glimpse of high society at the Taylor wedding, but she could tell from a glance that there was a lot of cutthroat viciousness hidden behind polite veneers. She was not about to go to the gala like a country bumpkin put on display at the--

Dani mentally shook her head. She must have listened to Mona talk about historical Cinderella style novels one too many times. How did Bright even grow up in that kind of environment?

“Oh, I know!” Jessica's face lit up once again, “Why don’t I take you shopping? I still need to get my dress as well and I’m sure we could find something that suits your taste. We can make a lady’s day out of it.”

“I don’t know, Mrs Whitly--Jessica,” Dani corrected after a pointed look from the older woman. “I can’t exactly take off work--”

“Actually, you don’t need to continue your shift. Given that it ended a little while ago.” Gil interrupted, his face smug as he walked out of his office, bouncing a very happy Isabella in his arms. “Powell’s just a dedicated worker.”

Isabella kicked her legs in excitement, squealing when she saw Jessica hold her arms out.

“Oh, my little bluebell!” Jessica gushed as she took the baby from Gil, looking every inch a doting grandmother as she turned back to Dani. “Now then, if your work day is over, I would love to take you dress shopping.”

Dani opened and closed her mouth, unsure how to answer. Jessica was nice enough in small doses, but even she didn’t know if she could handle the entire day with Bright’s mom.

“Powell,” Gil interjected, fatherly assurance bleeding into his usual no-nonsense lieutenant persona. “After all the hullabaloo, you’ve definitely earned a break today. Don’t let me catch you back here until tomorrow.”

“Then I guess…” Dani paused, looking at Jessica with a tiny smile. “Why not? I could use a day off right about now.”

“Wonderful!”

Isabella started to clap and giggle as Dani stood up, the little girl’s enthusiasm making the grin on Jessica’s face grow even wider.

“See, even Bluebell’s excited for you to join us.”

Gil chuckled with a fond expression, offering to get Isabella’s stroller when his phone suddenly rang. He hurried back to his office when he saw just who was calling.

“Gil, I think I figured out how to get Evan Huntington to talk.”

“Bright,” Gil pinched the bridge of his nose. “We still don’t have enough evidence to bring him in. There’s still a possibility that he’s not our killer.”

“Killer or not, he knows something. He’s just not telling us.”

“Don’t I know it,” he groaned, a feeling of dread already starting to bubble up, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Do I even want to know what you have in mind?”

“Probably not,” he joked before his voice turned serious. “We may have to talk to Evan Huntington’s father, Edgar. But in order for it to work--”

He could practically hear Malcolm’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

“--I may need to pay my father a visit.”

Hey guys!

I’m sorry this took so long... again, writer’s block plus online summer courses have not been a good combination. I’m hoping that chapter 8 doesn’t take this long to write but no worries, I’m not gonna abandon the story... if anyone’s still interested in the story lol

I hope you guys are doing well and staying safe, I’ll see you next time XP

P.S. extra special thank you to @s4karuna because I could not have posted these past few chapters without her edits

#prodigal son #malcolm bright #dani powell #gil arroyo #jt tarmel #edrisa tanaka #ainsley whitly #jessica whitly #brightwell #carved in the cradle #prodigal son fanfiction

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bathroombreaks · 5 years ago

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gg 1x01 rewatch

the questions are from @pynkhues, you can find them here.

1. What was your favourite scene of the episode? Tell us why!

oooh it’s def the scene where the girls are getting ready to rob fine & frugal. i just find it hilarious that they’re about to rob a store and they’re talking about how their kids are doing in school?? like, what absolute lunatics!! and i think it sets up their dynamic very well right from the beginning, idk. everyone’s always saying that the three girls have a very lived-in chemistry and i agree and i think you can feel it right from this first scene of them together

2. Was there any scene that missed the mark for you? And if so, how?

idk?? i’m very bad at reading and watching things critically, i’m very easy to please, i think?? and this ep just makes me pleased as punch!! but i guess that the scene with beth and amber, while funny, doesn’t really hit the mark for me?? idk, the way she’s framed as a “beautiful dummy” and not as much at fault as dean kind of irks me. i totally get that dean is the married one, but amber clearly knew he was married and somewhat regularly saw his wife, i don’t think she should really be absolved of that. and, idk, i don’t like that she basically got a prize for cheating - like, “here, you helped my husband cheat on me, so take some money to go live your dreams” is such a weird response?? beth was very scathing in the delivery and i get the point was for amber to be out of their lives but, like, still?? why not just tell dean he has to fire her?? this just further proves that beth is an idiot and an absolute lunatic, which we already knew

3. Let’s talk about the Big 6 Character Intros – Beth, Ruby, Annie, Dean, Stan, Rio. What did you think? What did you like? What did you dislike?

oooh i really liked all of them!!!

i absolutely love annie’s, it’s so fun with the car speeding and then with her banter with ben. i love the way they set up their dynamic right from the get go!!

and then ruby and stan’s intro was also amazing!! you get right away that they love each other so much and are so supportive of each other!! the way they both gesture when sara is talking about the women standing next to the men is so cute!!! i love it!!

rio’s is also amazing, he’s a snarky little bitch right from the get go and they really did a great job of also surprising us, thanks to the camera angle, and really driving home that he’s the boss.

i think the one i liked the least is actually beth and dean’s?? i mean, they do a good job of immediately letting you know that beth is the overworked mother and dean is the lazy, good-for-nothing husband - i mean, she’s running around, taking care of everything, and then he just strolls in and asks the kids to go to the car, without even having his tie done. but i think it’s a little misleading and i think it’s one of the reasons why the fandom (including myself) maybe has a harder time accepting beth staying with dean (aside from the fact that dean is a fucking asshole and he deserves nothing less than a horrible death, i mean)?? it really sticks in your mind this contempt she seems to have for him?? and, of course, then you get the flashback to beth getting waxed for him, and so you understand that they were maybe going through a bit of a rough patch but she wanted to work through it, but what sticks in your mind is that first scene, where she’s full of contempt, not even able of saying a perfunctory i love you back. and since they seem to want to drag out the boland marriage as much as possible, i think they kind of failed there.

4. Ruby tells Stan to fix the damn door! Is Stan an amazing handyman? A terrible one???

i think stan is anywhere from ok to amazing, they’re just so overworked that he hasn’t had time?? idk, paired with the fact that he says he’s pulling a double at the beginning of the ep and that it doesn’t seem to be a new or uncommon thing, it just reads to me like a thing he really does want to take care of at some point but hasn’t found the time to do yet

5. Do you think Beth, Ruby or Annie had a way out of their individual financial situations that didn’t involve crime?

in short: nope. in long:

ruby and stan are desperate. they mention stan’s parents at some point, but i assume they just don’t have the money to help them?? and, i mean, they’re both working double shifts and they mention that they’ve had their gofundme page up for years. i think if they had any other way they absolutely would’ve already taken it, for sara’s sake.

we can assume from the flashbacks we get in 2x08 that annie and beth didn’t have as stable a home life as all that. i assume that either their parents are both now dead or they just have no communication with them. either way, they don’t have them as a safety net.

when it comes to annie, she’s working a minimum wage job, driving a very shitty car and her kid’s laptop has been broken for a month without her being notified, because said kid knows they don’t have the money to get a knew one. she does ask for help from the richest person the girls know later (that’s how i think they phrased?? i’m pretty sure), her ex, who promptly says no. so, yeah, it’s safe to say she doesn’t have a way out of her financial situation either.

and, in regards to beth, i think she would absolutely help ruby (and annie) if she could. so the fact that she doesn’t, paired with the fact that we get mentions later that this is not the first time dean has managed to basically bankrupt the car dealership, makes me assume that either the bolands were living close to paycheck to paycheck, but stable enough that she didn’t worry, or that she did think they had some spare money and did give that to them when she could?? because i don’t see how she would not give ruby the money for sara, if she thought she had it, especially when she does it later in the season.

so, no, i don’t really think any of the girls had safety nets or ways to get out of their financial situation. except for beth. she could’ve gotten a job. i know it would’ve been hard because of her lack of work experience, but she could’ve at least tried instead of immediately jumping to robbery!!

6. Is Beth’s backsplash dope? Or was Rio just being a dick??

both!! i mean, i personally like the backsplash, but rio was absolutely just being an asshole, whether or not he did believe it was dope had nothing to do with it.

7. Five major story locations were set up this episode – Ruby’s house, Beth’s house, Annie’s apartment, as well as Fine & Frugal and Boland Motors. Was there anything that jumped out for you about these locations in this episode? Do you think that they were well established given what happens in each across the course of the series?

ok so i don’t know enough about like tv shows and storylines and all that stuff to answer this, i’m sorry. but, like, i think it’s very cool that fine & frugal is robbed in the first and last episodes of season 1, it’s a fun full-circle type of thing, and i love that we’re introduced to boland motors via dean’s affair and beth’s destruction of it because it’s something that permeates the place throughout the whole time?? i mean, beth later “borrows“ one of the cars, rio smashes the corvette because of beth, it gets raided by the fbi because of beth’s illegal activities - beth is always destroying it, even when she’s not literally destroying something like in that first episode. and in season 2 we have beth fully realising just how deep dean’s betrayal was in the middle of the boland motors showroom. both of those things are always there!! it’s cool. and saying that, i mean, they kind of went the same route with boland bubbles, if you think about it?? we get dean cheating on her there, her fully realising how deep his betrayal is via gayle’s comments and then her clearly robbing the place?? boland bubbles really is just a continuation of boland motors

8. We met lots of supporting characters this episode too – in particular Boomer, Baby Tyler, Amber and Greg. Based off of what we saw of them in this episode, pick one, and tell us what you think!

i love baby tyler and amber!! i love that we’re introduced to baby tyler being all smiley and y’know a little bit ridiculous eating ice cream while on the job and maybe obviously inept because of it. and maybe you expect him to not do anything during the robbery because of that but then he really tries?? he thinks he’s facing off with 3 armed criminals and he really goes for it, he doesn’t cower like boomer!! he’s adorable!! and amber i already talked about and i know i was a bit harsh but i really do love her!! her oblivious comments are gold.

9. Screenshot and/or tell us about your favourite character look~ this episode.

frankly, this ep doesn’t really have any stand out looks for me?? the one exception is annie’s outfit when she picks up ben in the porsche. you can really tell how happy she is that she could one up nancy, that she’s proud of herself because she’s gonna get to give ben the laptop he needs.

10. This episode gives us some sharp character notes on Beth, Ruby and Annie – from Beth’s capacity for violence to Ruby’s visceral anger around being ignored, particularly when it comes to her daughter’s wellbeing, to Annie’s tendency to run a mile when given an inch. Is there a moment that stood out to you, particularly in light of future seasons?

ohhh i mean, there’s something to be said about beth’s capacity for violence uh? she keeps refusing to acknowledge it, because that doesn’t fit her stepford wife without a pulse image as annie calls it, but it’s always there - she’s always ready to blow up and throw some keys at your face. and ruby’s response to being ignored kind of screws her over?? she was very lucky jt only wanted her address for his nephew and didn’t become a second mary pat. idk, i’m sorry. like i said, not very good at critical thinking.

#stfu #txt #ggrewatch2020 #gg #nbc good girls #good girls nbc #omg this took me so long to write!!#also i didn't really understand the speed round which is why i ignored it.#when i see how other people do it i'll start doing it too

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brightmalcolm · 5 years ago

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a full breakdown with spoilers of the finale please!

WELL

Malcolm wakes up in a holding cell. He had a very unsubtle dream where he was in prison with his father. Jessica pays his bail bc Rich but he’s under house arrest for now.

Endicott calls Martin and basically says you fucked me over by telling your kids who I am so now I’m gonna fuck YOU over. He pulls some strings to make it look like Martin was trying to escape and Martin is transferred to Rikers Prison (bc that’s how the legal system works in this universe I guess).

Malcolm FINALLY uses his FBI skills to break out of his ankle monitor and goes AWOL. Gil reassures Jessica that he believes Malcolm is innocent. JT also seems to believe that and ofc Edrisa does bc Malcolm could probably stab her and she’d be chill with it. Dani is kind of unsure though bc of how strong the evidence is (and you know, trust issues, I can’t really blame her). Edrisa comes through and gives Malcolm the DNA result report and he figures out that the lab that processed the DNA is owned by Endicott and is tied to the attorney who represented Martin in the 90s.

Malcolm goes to visit the lawyer but before he can get much info on Endicott, the lawyer is shot and killed (rip lawyer). Malcolm rushes back home and tries to act casual bc Gil, Dani, and JT came by to check if he’s still there. They’re about to leave but Malcolm is so desperate to go back to the precinct and work the case he “confesses” to killing the lawyer so Gil has to take him in (proud father of a few dumb ass kids).

We find out that Malcolm never even talked to Eddie; he walked in the room, looked at him, and left. So now his theory is Eddie was dead when he arrived.

While Martin is in prison, he finds out someone is planning on killing him. Ainsley tells him to man up and figure out how to solve his own problems. Martin then tells Malcolm that Sophie was lying about having information on Endicott but by the time he realized it, she was gone, so he just kept bluffing to Endicott. The only useful information Martin can give is telling Malcolm that the bruises on Eddie’s neck look like the way someone would hold down a dog. Oh also kill Endicott. Bc that’s how dude solves all his problems.

Malcolm goes back to his apartment and Gil is there to tell him to get the fuck out of town while he figures out the murder charge himself. They hug (YAY) and Malcolm starts packing. He’s about to leave, when he suddenly remembers something about the voicemail Eve left. He listens to it and hears dogs barking in the background. He asks Dani to trace the call for him.

Meanwhile, Jessica has gone over to Endicott’s for dinner to try and get him to confess to framing Malcolm while she records him on her phone. Unfortunately, Gil shows up and Endicott stabs him bc YOLO. Jessica sees this, knocks Endicott out with a bottle like a bad ass, and gets Gil to the hospital, but not before crashing a car bc rich people can’t drive.

The phone call traces to a veterinary office in Connecticut. Malcolm gets there and meets.......THE GIRL IN THE BOX??? They have a heart to heart about their Trauma and Malcolm finally gets some closure. He also finds out that Eve had been staying there for a few days before she was murdered. Malcolm realizes Sophie was the one who killed Eddie, but he tells her he’ll take the blame for it.

Malcolm gets a call about Gil and rushes to the hospital where JT, Dani, and Jessica are waiting. They have an arrest warrant for Endicott’s arrest for stabbing Gil and are about to go get him when Malcolm gets an SOS text from Ainsley.

Malcolm goes back to Jessica’s house and finds Endicott being SUPER creepy with Ainsley. He gives a Villian Speech (tm) but Malcolm says not today Satan and pulls a gun out from this FBI backpack he used to disable the ankle monitor. Endicott starts taunting Malcolm like oh you don’t have the balls to shoot me, Malcolm is like Bet. But ofc, Malcolm realizes he can’t kill a person but before he can try and subdue Endicott in another way, Ainsley sneaks up behind Endicott AND SLITS THAT BITCHES THROAT!!! And then stabs him like 10 more times!!!

Ainsley doesn’t seem to remember what happened and she and Malcolm just look at each other in shock. Meanwhile, Martin managed to steal a guards phone during a prison riot and calls Malcolm bc ofc he does. Malcolm tells him what Ainsley did and he gets all smiley and calls Ainsley “my girl.”

Blackout bc god hates me. See ya next season.

#and that's what you missed on GLEE #prodigal son spoilers #anonymous #answered

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alexisluthor · 5 years ago

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Prodigal Son Deep Dive - “The Professionals” *SPOILERS*

*PRODIGAL SON SPOILERS AHEAD*

A lot happened in the latest ep of PSON, “The Professionals.” As soon as Malcolm walks into the station and everyone’s staring at him, you know something bad happened. Plus, Gil was drinking. During the day.

So, Eve’s dead, that’s a bummer. We also miss getting two episodes of the show due to the virus, so who knows what those two episodes contained. What we have to work with is a seemingly all-powerful Nick Endicott who promised Whitly in 1999 that he’d…sleep with…Jessica and destroy his family if he ever reneged on their agreement. He’s made good on the first point and is working on the second.

It is my theory that when Malcolm went to “interview” Eddie, the man in the room wasn’t even Eddie. If the team were smart and trying to intercept Nick Endicott’s attempt at framing Malcolm…they would have a bandaged man sent to the hospital – have Malcolm show up with orders from Gil to interview him (which is weird bc he’s a profiler, but whatever). They’ve already got the assassin in their pocket. She goes to Endicott, tells him she killed Eddie and planted evidence after Malcolm’s visit. Voila. Nick thinks he’s got the upper hand.

The team has to keep Malcolm in the dark, to make everything look believable. But notice, at the end of the ep, Dani is looking upward. As if searching for cameras or something. Eve’s place had been spied upon and I think the team hoped that Malcolm’s place was bugged as well so that Nick would get the confirmation he sought. Malcolm gives an amazing ‘shocked’ performance, because it’s not a performance. He really thinks he’s being arrested. Although, if you watch his face carefully, you watch his expression shift to something…else. Less shocked and more… ‘aha, I know what you’re doing here.’

Maybe he’s safer in the clink than anywhere else at the moment – at least until Nick is…taken care of. But the promos for the next ep indicate that he’s not in jail.

Speaking of “taken care of…” as soon as it’s mentioned that Mr. David was sick, alarm bells went off in my head. It was nice to see Martin ‘caring’ about his ol’ pal, and even nicer to hear him hiss at Eddie that he’s, “not like other prisoners.” Is Mr. David still alive? Did Nick kill him?

Now we know that Martin’s cushy existence behind bars is because of Nick. But at what cost? The way Endicott threatened Martin…talked down to him…offered him his little rug. I would say that Martin is a…dominant…type. I think it’s killing him that Nick has infiltrated his family so thoroughly. That pent up rage is probably not doing good things for him, mentally. I think a lot of that rage comes out when he’s brutalizing Eddie.

The scene where Eddie tries to kill Martin was fantastic. Martin being choked…Malcolm unable to get into the cell. As he was being choked out, it was like Martin had all but given up until he heard Malcolm scream, “Dad!” It was a moment that so perfectly echoed that scene when Martin was in a coma. It was Bright who brought him back to the surface. Martin’s eyes snap open and he gets the upper hand, going into full kill mode, and all Malcolm can do is watch. I think Malcolm watches in both horror and fascination. This is the first time he’s really seen his father do real damage, revealing his animalistic nature in the most brutal fashion.

What’s just as shocking is the way that Martin attacks Eddie. He goes for the eye sockets, which is one of the ways he’d mentioned previously, to a collegiate Malcolm, how he could kill him. He tells Eddie, “this is for my boy,” and grins wildly at Malcolm as he does it. It’s like watching his sanity snap in real time. And Malcolm can’t pull his eyes away.

I think part of Malcolm…a part that he’d never admit to having…wasn’t too terribly upset by his father’s brutal treatment of Eddie. That is the man who killed Eve after all… The look on his face is more one of fascination than disgust. Despite not being >>as<< panicked as when Martin was being attacked, he still urges Martin to stop. JT pulls Martin off Eddie and Martin has this moment…it’s almost like he’d disassociated a bit. He almost has to come back to himself. Hmmmmm….

And poor Gil and Jessica, talking about Malcolm – drinking – reconnecting. Their night had been going well. Jessica is right, she sure can pick ‘em. And to find out that she did have a history with Gil is beyond satisfying and something I think we all suspected. But to hear that she had turned him away – made him think he wasn’t good enough for her – that was brutal. Poor Gil. Still, he got to have his life with Jackie. And now he gets Jessica. Or does he?

Boy…what a time for Martin. He lost Jess both to his enemy Endicott, and to his enemy Arroyo. That rage will really boil when he hears about Gil. He already fears that he’s lost his boy to the lieutenant and now his ex? Ouch.

We get that lovely kiss between Gil and Jess and several other incredible moments with the rest of the team.

Ainsley puts herself in danger as she tries to investigate Nick. But part of me wonders…if she’ll be the one to kill him. I think Martin went after the wrong kid to try to convince to be a killer. If I had to put my money on it, I’d see her killing someone before Malcolm would. Then again, he did stabby stabby his very own daddy daddy but I think the reasons behind that were more complicated than – well, he’s a killer. I digress.

And poor Eve. No wonder Malcolm is haunted by her specter. In a way, it is because of his family that both she and her sister are dead. She had just begun to taste hope, had just renewed her spark, and boom – her life was snuffed out. I think Malcolm’s psyche is more fragile than ever as a result… How many ghosts can haunt him before he cracks apart entirely?

And what of Nick’s fury? What happens when he finds out Jess has moved on to Gil? When she says “no,” to him? Eeeeek. Martin is the big, bad predator, but he can’t do much protecting from behind bars. And judging from the ‘upcoming ep’ scenes, there’s a bounty on Martin’s head. He’s going to be in gen pop – all of his cushy privileges bestowed upon him by Endicott revoked. There is a prison free-for-all in the promo for the finale so I still hold out hope that Martin could manage a jailbreak, or at least a chance at staying alive.

Tangent --- If Martin does stay alive (which he better), how would his dynamic with the team be altered now that he’s a ‘regular’ prisoner? No more private room? No more desk and books and surgical consulting? No more Mr. David, lion nature specials, and extensive private phone time? His own sanity would probably begin to splinter. Maybe his work/cooperation with the NYPD and surgical consultations would be enough to get him some old comforts back? As much as Malcolm professes to hate him (and does hate him), I don’t think he’d like these changes for Martin either (because part of him, also begrudgingly loves him). Perhaps he himself could rescue Martin from the lost privileges? After all, is it really a GOOD IDEA to mix Martin with a bunch of other prisoners? He is a puppet master, a mastermind. So maybe Mal gets him his old existence back. Wouldn’t that be a twist? >evil grin<

What I need is Mal and Martin in the same prison. Malcolm protecting him from getting whacked while the team and Ainsley try to bring down Nick. But if Martin is urging Malcolm to kill Nick, that means that Malcolm’s free. No Prison!Malcolm for me unfortunately.

I think it’s also highly unlikely that Malcolm will kill Nick in the end.

Finally, I find it fascinating that Martin urges Malcolm to be the killer, rather than Ainsley, even though he’s talking to both of them. He points out that HE is a Whitly. Like…hello? So is she? (THIS REALLY BOLSTERS MY THEORY THAT SHE IS NOT MARTIN’S KID – that and the way he barely acknowledges her existence) Maybe she’ll take Nick out in the end? Who knows.

All I know is that the team is more kickass than ever. Malcolm improvising with that knife and ketchup? Perfection. Dani taking out the assassin. Beyond amazing. The director actually giving us a LIT SHOT OF TOM PAYNE’S FACE…YESSSSSS. There were plenty of wonderful moments in this ep that have me screaming at FOX to renew this show.

PS If Edrisa is the ultimate Malcolm Stan…HOW DID SHE NOT KNOW THAT HE HAD DATED EVE? LIKE…what kind of stalker are we here Edrisa? You can do better. Plus, no one from the team thought to CALL HER? Give her a heads up maybe? “Yo – Bright is coming in. He dated the dead girl. Act somber.” NOTHING. She just had no idea. This from the same woman who HAD MAL’S MEDICAL FILES after he got kidnapped? I just…. sigh…come on team. Come on Edrisa. (GIF courtesy of MyBoy)

#prodigal son #prodigal son theories #pson #pson theories #malcolm bright #jt tarmel #dani powell #edrisa tanaka #gil arroyo #jessica whitly #ainsley whitly #martin whitly #nick endicott #tom payne #michael sheen #lou diamond phillips #theories #the professionals

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knives-out20 · 5 years ago

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Late Night - Malcolm Whitly x Harlan Engelmann (OC) - Prodigal Son - Part 1

Fandom: Prodigal Son (2019-)

Pairing: Malcolm Whitly/Bright x Harlan Engelmann (OC)

Word Count: 3844

Warnings: NSFW, Also Soft, A Lil’ Bit Of Spoilers But Not Of A Certain Episode,

Notes: Hey Guys! Guess Who Recently Started Prodigal Son? Guess Who Made A Prodigal Son OC To Ship With Malcolm? But, Not In The Way You’d Expect (Read This To Find Out). Prodigal Son Is A Great Show, I Love It So Far, But...It Eerily Has A Lot- And I Mean A LOT- Of Similarities With My Dearest Hannibal (2013-2015), A TV Show I Pay Tribute To, Later On In This Oneshot. It’s Really Late As I’m Posting This, So I’ll Post My Full-Blown Thoughts And Opinions On Prodigal Son Tomorrow, Or Maybe When I Finish The Show. I’m Starting Episode 9 Tomorrow, Guys. Enjoy!

Harlan sat at his couch in home, flipping through a book absentmindedly and drinking coffee. He glanced out his window, into the moonlight, bored out of his mind. And there it was, that sweet, late-night sound of a knock at his front door. Harlan closed his book and put it on the coffee table, putting his now-empty coffee cup on a coaster. He groaned as he stretched his arms, getting up and stretching his back and legs, too. Harlan closed his eyes, a smile gracing his lips when he heard another row of rapping."Just a second!" He called, picking the coffee cup back up to move it to the kitchen sink, that was slowly starting to pile up with dishes and cups. Another set of rapping at the door. Harlan walked over to his front door, checking through the peephole just in case it was who he thought it was. He slowly unlocked the door, then opened it. And there he stood- Malcolm Bright (born Whitly) at his doorstep, hands in the pockets of his long, dark coat."Harlan Engelmann" he greeted, nodding slightly. "Malcolm Bright" Harlan returned, stepping aside. He knows Malcolm's birth-surname, and Malcolm knows that, but Harlan still uses the alias Malcolm uses. As Malcolm likes."I wasn't expecting you, come on in". "Actually..." Malcolm sucked his teeth as he walked in, taking off his shoes as Harlan locked the front door behind him."You did. I can smell it on you, a rather strong and attracting cologne. What is it?". "Hugo Boss" Harlan admitted, grinning."Quite a nose, Malcolm" he complimented, hanging Malcolm's coat on his coat rack. Harlan lightly grabbed Malcolm's waist, pulling him in and softly kissing him."How was profiling today, hmm?". Malcolm arched a brow, looking up at Harlan."Same as it has been, lately- stressing me out, and has me thinking of my dad". He sighed, glancing down at the dark, wooden floors, only feeling peaceful when he looked back up at Harlan. Harlan moved his arms around Malcolm's torso, keeping him in a hug."I have root beer in the kitchen-". "Again, you were expecting me". "Shut up" Harlan giggled, slowly pulling away, cupping Malcolm's cheek."Listen, do you want one, or not, smart guy?" He asked, other hand holding Malcolm's. Malcolm smirked, nodding."Sure". He followed Harlan into the kitchen, getting a can of root beer in his hand quickly. Malcolm leaned against the counter, both hands on the can after he opened it."How's life?". Harlan puffed up his cheeks after closing the fridge, a can in his own hands."My role as your peacekeeper remains evermore, Malcolm. My bar's in great shape, I have a new buddy at the gym, she's amazing, and...yea. Same shit as usual". "You bring me much more than peace, Harlan. You and I both know that" Malcolm winked, eyebrows jumping as he took a sip of his root beer."I'm only guessing that you know why I'm here, why you were expecting me". Malcolm shrugged, taking a few more chugs of the cold drink."Ainsley told me to say hi to you the next time I saw you, so...she says hello". Harlan smiled at his can."'You and I both know that'. So I'm assuming she doesn't know?" He saw Malcolm shake his head. Harlan walked over to the counter, quickly emptying his can and putting it on the counter. He caged Malcolm to the counter, hungrily looking down at him."How much does your mother and Ainsley not know, exactly?". Malcolm hummed, slowly licking his lips."They both don't know the same amount- liking girls is the default, they believe I'm on default mode. Even if they did know that I’m not on default, then I'm still doing what we're both doing- hiding this from everyone" he used a finger to gesture between the two of them. Harlan let out a low, excited groan."See? I told you, hiding us is exciting, it's fun. I can see the smile on your face, Malcolm. You like this too, this bad idea, but also a good idea. This secret is clearly safe, so there's never gonna be a reason to throw it away". Malcolm finished his can soon after, turning to set it beside Harlan's, with his mind running. He felt his heart start racing when he looked back at Harlan, with those pretty blue eyes of his. Harlan's eyes were a deeper, more visible blue. Harlan knew that Malcolm's eyes were blue, too, but- "Your eyes always look like a ghostly-blue, y'know? How many questions do you get on 'em, eh? By weekly, at least". Harlan always said how Malcolm's eyes are a 'ghostly-blue', a steel blue to most people. Grey, if you looked at it in a certain light. Harlan's eyes are a more straight-up blue, no questioning needed. "People always question me on my childhood with my dad, rather than the simpleness of my eye colour, Harlan". The corner of Harlan's lip momentarily twitched up. He held Malcolm tight, thinking the answer through. Harlan swept a loose lock of Malcolm's hair out from the side of his forehead, despite the fact that it framed his forehead so perfectly. He leaned in, placing a sweet kiss to Malcolm's forehead."You learn JT's name, yet?". "If I did, I'd tell you, don't you think? You're like a, uh, my human diary" Malcolm compared, offering a charming- every smile of Malcolm's is charming, to Harlan- smile. When Harlan cupped Malcolm's cheek, he leaned into the touch, allowing his heart to keep racing. This secret they have is safe, like Harlan said, the one man who truly makes sense to Malcolm. The one guy who makes good of what has been so bad, aka, Malcolm's life, past and present. So, if it may be a bad idea, Harlan and Malcolm, then it's definitely a pretty good bad idea. "A human diary who you relieve stress in. I gotta say, I've never met someone who has ever wanted to...y'know...their diaries" Harlan teased, winking at him playfully. He cupped both of Malcolm's cheeks, sighing softly."A human diary who spent copious amounts of his own allowance to buy you candy, ice cream, and snow cones following the time after...that day, back when we were kids. The human diary who, if asked by literally anyone, doesn't regret it all. I'd like to believe that I'd do it again, and again, and again". Malcolm took a deep breath."Best friends since schoolyard and playground. Ever loyal, and look at us now". "Having sex behind everyone's backs?". Malcolm squeezed his eyes shut, an embarrassed smile on his face."Okay, listen-". "Am I wrong?". Malcolm slowly opened his eyes, Harlan looking at him with a 'really?' expression on his face. He shook his head, "No, but...y'know what?". Malcolm leaned in, greedily kissing him. He pulled away just as fast, teasing him."Shut up, Harlan". "Oh, oof, ouch-" Harlan placed a hand over his heart, the taste of root beer sweet on his lips."Hurt even more than when Brock Calpert uninvited me from his birthday party in elementary school because I was friends with you, being that your dad's...y'know" he reminded, eyebrows furrowing."Because that didn't really hurt at all. A bit, but not too much for me to break you off like a bitch just to go to his party". "Mmh, were the years of being known as 'Freak number three' worth it, Harlan?" Malcolm asked jokingly, chuckling when Harlan nodded. "Love, no matter what kind, is that when you love someone, you'll do anything for them, that's love. Even if it hurts you. Like being uninvited to so many birthday parties, and being called a 'freak', Malcolm" Harlan replied. Malcolm and his relationship isn't romantic- it never has been. Back when they were growing up, the two were best friends. Nothing, not even the phase Malcolm's mother had where she tried setting up Ainsley and Harlan, got in the way of that. Right now, their relationship is -secretly- sexual. Malcolm comes crawling to Harlan's doorstep any night he can, the two have sex, and Harlan's able to drive Malcolm back to his loft, where he's safe with his mouth guard and his restraints for when the night terrors kick in. Harlan can't secretly deny that he's recently wanted more than just a sexual relationship. Openly, he wouldn't tell a soul, especially not Malcolm himself. Malcolm may have been Harlan's gay awakening when they were 13 (Harlan bought them popsicles, he payed a little too much attention to how Malcolm licked his), so this is just as thrilling as it gets. But, Harlan never had an actual, romantic crush on Malcolm. And now, he does. Just 19 years later. "How's...Dani?" Harlan tried fighting back a jealous scowl when he uttered the name. "Dani's cool, JT still is uneasy about me, a-a-and Gil's still the closest thing I have to a father figure" Malcolm answered, dragging out the 'a' in 'and'. He noticed Harlan's distaste toward Dani, and also possibly knew why. But for once, Malcolm didn't say anything. "Get me JT's first name in the near future, and you'll get off at my bar with as many free drinks as you want, Malcolm" Harlan muttered, slowly untying Malcolm's blue tie. He had his eyes trailing up dangerously from the tiny, white dots on it up to Malcolm's striking eyes. Harlan raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner, as if asking if Malcolm wishes to partake in their usual, late-night activities tonight. Malcolm leaned in, kissing him and leaving the fresh taste of root beer on Harlan's lips. Harlan let go of Malcolm's tie to cup his cheeks, kissing him again to keep that taste on him. He kept Malcolm against the counter, towering over him (by only a few inches) and drinking the taste off of Malcolm’s lips. Harlan kissed Malcolm in a needy, unchaste manner, one hand moving away from Malcolm's prickly-with-stubble cheek to rid of that tie, tossing it onto the kitchen table. He grabbed onto Malcolm as they kissed, blindly leading the way to his stairs, rushing up them and into his bedroom. Harlan closed the door behind them, getting to work on unbuttoning the coat suit Malcolm had on him, the brunet wasting no time on unbuttoning Harlan's shirt, his taste in button-ups falling in line with bus seat patterns and arcade carpets. Malcolm pulled away for a moment."Your shirt just reminded me- you're pretty dumb for taking the bus to work everyday instead of the metro. Buses take longer, Harlan, you know this" he noted. Harlan rolled his eyes, throwing it away. He pulled Malcolm closer and felt up his chest."I take the slow buses for a reason, stupid- so I can get a chance at calling you before work every day. I don't get signal on the metro". Malcolm realized that it was indeed him, who was dumb. A grateful smile came onto his lips, as he glanced at Harlan's lips, then back to his eyes. Malcolm leaned back in, meaningfully kissing Harlan, working on untying the bartender's belt and dropping it. Harlan chuckled against Malcolm's lips, untying Malcolm's belt, dropping it, and using his foot to push it aside. He lightly nudged Malcolm a few times, before finally pushing him onto the bed."You're so small, y'know" Harlan teased, crawling onto the bed. "By a few inches, Harlan. By a few inches" Malcolm shook his head, propping himself up by his elbows. His eyes darted around the room, sighing when Harlan answered "still"."Did you paint recently? Something's changed". "New bed, actually- softer. Bedspread's new, too, obviously" Harlan corrected, using his pointer finger to tilt Malcolm's head higher up."Dark blue, anyone's favourite colour" he added, getting onto his knees to straddle Malcolm, unbuttoning his shirt. Harlan helped Malcolm take it off, and tossed it aside. He slowly felt up Malcolm's body, practically drooling each time he had Malcolm like this."God, you're amazing" Harlan praised, leaning down to kiss Malcolm's cheek, leaving a trail down his jawline, then neck."And beautiful," he continued, continuing the slow kisses down Malcolm's chest. Malcolm raked his hand into Harlan's jet black hair, tilting his head up."Keep 'em coming" he scoffed, eyes slowly falling closed. Harlan complimenting him always made him feel special, but, the good type of special. Harlan chuckled lowly, lips against Malcolm's stomach, feet dangling off the end of the bed."You're smart, and talented" he added, hands firmly on Malcolm's hips."You absolutely light up my life, without even knowing it. You- You have the prettiest eyes, and no matter how much I make fun of you on the colour, I really wish mine looked like them. You're sassy, and really know how to clean yourself up, and it just-" Harlan sucked his teeth, a soft moan following."Just revs me up, honestly. You look so damn good when you're under me, but nothing's stopping you from being on top this time" he purred, tugging Malcolm's pants down."I may work at a bar, but when we do what we do, you make me feel more exhilarated than any drink there could. You're strong, Malcolm. A critical thinker, and it's so, so damn attractive". Harlan crawled back up to eye-level with Malcolm, kissing him before he let slip any praises that were deemed romantic, and therefore unworthy of Malcolm's attention. For now, at least.

***

Harlan pulled his car out of his driveway, starting down the road to get Malcolm home."Satisfied?" He asked, eyebrows raising. Malcolm leaned back in his seat, breathing out a relaxed sigh."As always- it's hard to keep you a secret, y'know. You're so..interesting, you always have been. It's hard not to talk of the things we do, and how they make me feel". Harlan hummed, turning the volume up, a The Tragically Hip song playing."Y'dig the Hip?". "I 'dig' whatever you dig, Harlan. That's just how it's been". "You dig whatever your radio forces you to listen to every morning when you read those white cards and spit out your black mouth guard. So I'm only gonna assume that's a yes, you dig the Hip" Harlan shot back, running a hand through his hair."Cold? I could turn up the heater" he suggested, humming when Malcolm shook his head. The two delved into silence afterwards, The Tragically Hip being a main source of noise. Harlan turned toward Malcolm, who practically had his nose glued to the window, observing the passing buildings, trees, and cars. Harlan thought Malcolm always looked so pretty on these rides back to his place, with the traffic lights and lamp post, especially when it hit those puppy-dog eyes just right, that made him feel things. Harlan stopped at a red light, leaning back in his seat and keeping his eyes on Malcolm as cars and people passed, each with their own stories, their own hookups, and their own loves. "What're you staring at me for, Engelmann?" Malcolm asked, not turning to look at Harlan."Something in my hair? Are you gonna offer to stay the night?" He inquired. Harlan placed a hand on Malcolm's head, scratching softly."I would offer, but I'm scared of your mother using her key to come inside and then seeing her son's closest friend since childhood sleeping on his couch with ultra-bedhead hair, a little sweat, and the stench of sex. Not a great way to set this secret free". Malcolm scrunched his face up, "oh, yea, definitely". He laughed softly, gaze fixing on Harlan with a certain softness."You're scared of my mother using her key to the building she owns, and seeing her son's best friend, since childhood sleeping on his couch with...all that" Malcolm corrected, earning a surprised look from Harlan. "Malcolm, please. You've been diagnosed with complex PTSD, generalized anxiety disorder, and night terrors because of a certain someone. Do you know what happens to a human body when it withstands that much stress for a long amount of time? Mal, you you were fired from the only job you thought you were ever good at, when there's so much more in you. You haven't been in a stable relationship in years. I didn't want the weight that the words 'best friend' has also weighing on your tonne of ten-thousand-pound bricks, dude" Harlan explained, looking at his fuck-buddy sympathetically. He put his hand over Malcolm's, giving it the quickest, yet most comforting squeeze. Harlan pulled his hand away quickly, both of them back on the steering wheel as he continued driving."Best friend carries more meaning, the older you grow. Back then, I was your only friend. You were my best friend because you didn't call me a Nazi because I'm German like some of the other kids. Nowadays, I analyze the circumstances I have with people I know, to know where we fall under- acquaintances, friends, co-workers, and best friend...or, in this case, best-friend-slash-fuck-buddy" he joked, laughing quietly as he teared his eyes back towards the road. It was now Malcolm's turn to keep his eyes on the other."Well, I'm glad we got your position as my best friend cleared out. Even if you weren't my only friend growing up, your position as best friend wouldn't have altered in the slightest, Harlan. You're- You're the one thing that's grounding me, you're the one thing that's kept me grounded, all these years. My father may have ruined my childhood, but your consistency kept it from being absolutely demolished". "Nah. Your father may have ruined your childhood, but you are made of some tougher stuff than anyone I know. You kept yourself from it being absolute shit. I was just there to be your best friend who knows how you like your pasta and how you like your hair pulled-". "Harlan!". "What? It's true" Harlan cackled, patting Malcolm's shoulder."I'd say that I was your rock, Malcolm, but you're tough as rock, yourself. Dwayne-Johnson-level" he told. "A rock with chunks of time thrown out the window," Malcolm held up a finger."Any bits and pieces of my childhood that I can remember, you're in a lot of them. You're constant. You're a rock keeping me afloat". He smiled warmly at Harlan, who smiled back at him with the beauty of a thousand stars. Harlan's knuckles grazed Malcolm's cheeks."Same unfortunate aftershave, Mally. I really must introduce you to a finer one, that smells like something with a ship on the bottle". Malcolm chuckled, "I keep getting it for Christmas. Ainsley isn't the best at gift stuff nowadays". Harlan pursed his lips."You guys are busy. She's a news reporter, you're a profiler. A lowly bartender of a best friend like me can only have so many hours with you nowadays to talk to you, see what you like, y'know? Maybe the 'CLUE' board game? The box-set of a certain season of Law And Order, Criminal Minds...Hannibal, maybe?". "Hannibal!" Malcolm clapped, then balling his fists."God, Hannibal, I knew you were referencing something so smoothly, but I couldn't place it..." Harlan laughed victoriously."Season one episode five, Coquilles. Will and Hannibal discussed Will's breaking state of mind, and connections to the Angel-Maker. Then 'same unfortunate aftershave' is from season two episode seven, Yakimono. Will is released from Chilton's Asylum, and he sees Hannibal for the first time after being a released, and points a gun at him. I'm so jealous of Will's hair, but I could never pull it off" he recollected flawlessly, finally pulling up in front of Malcolm's building. Malcolm looked out his window, then up at the window of his loft, right by his bed."Well, uh...this is me". "This is you. Any chances of seeing you tomorrow, Malcolm?" Harlan asked hopefully, unlocking his car doors. Would this be the perfect time to confess to Malcolm about how he feels, but Malcolm isn't in the right state of mind, lately. Not like he has been, since the day his dad got arrested. But, Harlan likes to believe that there is a day where Malcolm will be ready for a stable relationship. It partially keeps him going. If the most Harlan can get is being Malcolm's best friend for life, whom he fucks behind everybody's backs, then that's alright with him. Malcolm looked at Harlan, and leaned in quickly, kissing him. He cupped Harlan's cheek, who pulled him closer by his tie. Malcolm smiled into the kiss, slowly but hesitantly pulling away."I'll try, okay? Maybe I'll visit your bar, too, Harley". Harlan dived in for another kiss, following one on Malcolm's cheek, jaw, neck, and a last one on both his hands."Call me once you reach your bed, okay?" He asked, watching Malcolm get out the car."And never doubt the idea of leaving a toothbrush at my place, Malcolm-" Harlan put his hands up in defense when Malcolm turned to shoot him a look."Just so that, by the off chance of you still being at my place in the morning, tangled in sheets, you don't have to refresh your breath after a car ride home". Every past off-chance that Malcolm did end up staying the night, he had Harlan hypnotized. The bedhead, the ever-striking steel-blue eyes, and his morning voice hit deep. Harlan always plays those moments on repeat, when Malcolm stands in his kitchen in just his underwear, and one of Harlan's t-shirts, with his messed up hair and his bare feet, it's no wonder Harlan's falling for him. "A toothbrush would stop my rush from leaving your place, you mean. Desperate much?" Malcolm snorted, hands gripping onto the open window sill. Harlan shrugged, guilty."Only for you, Malcolm. Less of a need to question your whereabouts after we do the deed, y'know? Coming home with me, I don't mind the few punches in the face, or keeping you from falling off my bed in your sleep" Harlan doesn't want their nightly meetings to end, is the case. It feels good, whenever Malcolm turns up to his door, and it doesn't even make things awkward when they meet up during the day. He leaned his arm on his steering wheel, facing Malcolm."Think about it, dude. G'bye, Malcolm. I love you" Harlan winked playfully, a bright smile on his face. "Goodnight and goodbye, Harlan. I love you, too". Malcolm smiled, then turning around completely and quickly entering his building. Harlan closed his mouth, a soft smile still plastered onto his lips. His eyes went from where Malcolm once stood, to the graffiti'd door, and down to the sidewalk."I love you more" he told, to no one in particular. And with that, Harlan drove off, back to his own home.

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themachiavellianpig · 5 years ago

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Prodigal Son, Episode 11: Malcolm’s No-Good, Very Bad Day

Episode 11 of Prodigal Son and, good Lord, was this an episode worth waiting for.

Malcolm begins the episode metaphorically much were we left it - in the hands of a maniac - and geographically in an unknown location. Being hit hard enough to be knocked out isn't good for anyone, so it's probably no surprise that we start off with a little flashback/hallucination to a much younger Malcolm being reassured by Jessica that he is not a monster; he's a survivor.

As the episode proceeds, all we can do is hope that Jessica is right.

Full review and spoilers galore under the cut.

The story splits off into two separate threads - Malcolm trying to survive his imprisonment and torture at the hands of Paul Watkins, the Junkyard Killer, and the rest of the team desperately trying to find him in time.

Malcolm's interactions with Paul serve as a very good reminder of how good Malcolm is at his job, as he uses his knowledge of Paul to try to forge a connection or, at least, find a weak spot to exploit. The trouble comes from the fact that Paul knows more of Malcolm's story that Malcolm may of Paul's - particularly when it comes to their original meeting. Over the course of a significantly unsettling conversation, we learn that Paul did accompany Malcolm and Martin on a camping trip, and that Paul enjoyed his time "working with" Martin - I'm really hoping for some hints in later episodes as to how the discovery of the Junkyard Killer develops the story of the Surgeon. Maybe it could be the topic of Ainsley's next exclusive?

Interestingly, Paul declares himself to be finished with his previous mission of punishing the wicked, in favour of trying to convince Malcolm to take his father's place as Paul's co-murderer. Even though Malcolm makes the valid point that he's not a killer, Paul remains unworried - he wasn't a killer either until he passed "the trials".

Paul also indirectly confirms that the girl in the box was real and that she was killed on the camping trip which Malcolm can barely remember - but she wasn't the only one to suffer on that trip, as Paul himself was stabbed.

He was stabbed by none other than little Malcolm.

And, because turn-around is fair play in the world of serial killers, Malcolm gets stabbed as well.

Meanwhile, the NYPD and the FBI are doing all they can to find Malcolm. Paul's blind and furious grandmother refuses to do anything more helpful that sing creepy Old Testament hymns about the wicked being punished, so Gil gets Special Agent Swanson to agree to two very different, and equally questionable, lines of inquiry - Malcolm's mother and Malcolm's father.

Sidenote, but Swanson does explicitly say that she doesn't trust Jessica purely because she was married to the Surgeon - and while a certain degree of scepticism about Jessica's innocence or guilt may be understandable (I indulged in a little of it myself in the first half of the season), intending not to inform someone that their son has been kidnapped by a serial killer is a choice which I really want someone to call her out on at some point.

Gil, one way or another, gets permission to share some of the photos of John's childhood home with Jessica, in case she can remember anything about John or the camping trip which might help them locate Malcolm. It certainly shuts down her attempts to identify the Girl in the Box, at least in the short term.

(I also like that Gil clearly knows how Jessica got the picture of the bracelet, because he's not an idiot, and also how he is clearly not sharing that information with anyone else, because FBI doesn't deserve to know.)

We also get a brief glimpse into Ainsley's life; the interview with her father has benefitted her career in the way which she had hoped, and she's on her way to a meeting with some bigwigs about her next move when her mother summons her home for emotional support. Ainsley and Jessica's last conversation was hugely stressful for all involved, and for me watching it, but I couldn't help but notice that at least one thing that Jessica said in episode 10 seems to have stuck ("There are victims! Real ones! ...And why is the story never about them?"), because she wants to do the next feature on the victims, not the killer. I am very amused that Jessica using 911 as an emergency code fails - but the word please succeeded.

And then we get the interaction which I have been dying to see for quite some time now - Gil versus Martin.

Apparently an NYPD consultant being kidnapped by the Surgeon's former accomplice is a valid reason to yank someone out of solitary confinement, but Martin's time in solitary has scrambled his brains a lot more than maybe anyone was anticipating. Amusingly, Martin instantly knows that it was Malcolm, not the NYPD, who found Paul Watkins - although the news that Paul has taken Malcolm knocks him for six. So convinced is he that Malcolm is dead that he collapses. There are still plenty of questions still to be answered about Paul and Martin's partnership, and about how Paul evolved after Martin was arrested, but it's very interesting that Martin is so instantly convinced that Malcolm is dead - unlike the NYPD, who are clinging to the fact that Paul liked to hold his victims for some time before killing them. Is that a habit which he developed after Martin was out of his life - or does Martin simply know that the relationship between John and Malcolm was far more adversarial even before Malcolm started actively hunting him?

Either way, the strength of Martin's reaction to the news prompts medical intervention in the form of sedatives - which gives us all the joy of seeing a Martin Whitly who is not in full command of his faculties accuse Gil of trying to replace him in Jessica and Malcolm's lives. Apparently this is a notion which has been plaguing the bad Surgeon for quite some time. But even with his concerns, he can still be convinced to give up the location of the cabin from the camping trip - if only as a sign of faith in his own son's ability to stay alive.

Given the amount of time left on the clock, I was pretty certain that the cabin location was going to be a bust, but I was still on the edge of my seat as the show cut between JT and Dani on one side of a door and a madman with an axe on the other side. Different doors, of course, but a classic done well is always a lovely thing.

While the FBI, the NYPD and a whole host of other people with guns kick down the wrong door, Malcolm learns a little bit more about his camping trip - and his first serious assault, which was apparently in self-defenses, as the whole point of the camping trip was allegedly to kill Malcolm. Little Malcolm, who had seen too much and, apparently, been chloroformed to the point of it losing effectiveness, and who therefore was starting to remember too much.

It's a revelation which definitely takes Malcolm by surprise - and while it's something which he openly rejects when Paul first says it, it is something which he later accuses his 'father' (okay, fine, the stress-induced hallucination of his father) of attempting to do. Most telling of all, the hallucination of Martin openly admits to it. No matter what the truth was or is, in the moment, Malcolm truly believed that his father attempted to kill him - and will he ever really be able to believe any of Martin's denials?

Unfortunately, in the course of this particular argument, Malcolm reveals his ultimate motivations: "I protect my community and my family!"

And Paul, being not all that stupid, immediately zeroes in on the best way to hurt Malcolm: by hurting his family: "Sacrifice shall be your final trial. But don’t worry. It won’t be something you have to do, just something you have to endure."

Meanwhile, Ainsley is putting together some of the story for herself. The photos left by Gil almost immediately trigger a memory - the collection of angel statues in John's childhood home matches one which Ainsley was given as a child. Jessica brushes this aside as a present from Martin, but Ainsley disagrees - her imaginary friend, Mr Boots, gave it to her. The imaginary friend who she saw moving through the Whitly home, but thought was simply a ghost because he vanished in the basement.

And then, in a gorgeous piece of timing worthy of any high budget horror film, Jessica and Ainsley look around a corner to see John Watkins emerging from the secret room in their basement, axe first.

(Was this secret room where Martin killed his victims? How paranoid will Jessica be about that entire basement from now on? SO MANY QUESTIONS)

In the ensuing chase sequence, Jessica loses some points for stopping to fiddle with light switches, then immediately gains all those points back and then some for smashing John over the head with the first ceramic object to come to hand. She gets herself and an injured Ainsley upstairs in a bathroom, behind two locked doors, and barricades the door further with a dressing table. She is calm, collected, and absolutely bloody furious. Her attempts to reassure Ainsley are simply heartbreaking, talking about the headache Ainsley have in the morning, the illicit pills Jessica will offer, the simple declaration that they don't need anyone to save them even as John starts to chop through the door.

All she had was a pair of scissors, but I truly believe she would have made John pay dearly before the end.

Fortunately, it doesn't come to that. Malcolm, egged on by the hallucination of his father (I, as always, preferred the therapist), smashes his own hand with a hammer to get out of the cuffs and off he goes after John. He's been stabbed, concussed, and now just a little mutilated, so it's understandable that he avoids a straight-up confrontation, instead luring John back downstairs so he could freak him out with a open trunk and then blindside him with a crowbar - before locking him in the trunk.

The framing of the final confrontation made me wonder for a second if we were going to have to watch Malcolm become the killer he's always feared, probably as he brutally beat to death the man who had tried to kill his family. A potentially unsatisfying plotline would develop of Malcolm being tormented by his own dark side, or equating justifiable homicide with his father's sadism. Maybe even a hugely dull trial. But I didn't need to worry. As Jessica said in the opening scene, Malcolm isn't like his father. He's a survivor.

A survivor with a bit of a mean streak, given the way in which he effortlessly uses John's claustrophobia against him, but still. Not yet a killer.

The reunion with Jessica and Ainsley was adorable, and almost makes up for us not getting to see Malcolm reunite with his team - especially after they gave us cute flashbacks of Dani's developing friendship with Malcolm, and showed JT's obvious and understandable concern for the guy. Hopefully we'll get to see a little more of that in next week's episode.

Previous Prodigal Son reviews are available here.

Ainsley Whitly Character Profile available here.

#prodigal son #episode review #Episode Recap #tv review #Thomas Payne #bellamy young #michael sheen #Michael Raymond James #halston sage #themachiavellianpig watches

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cvmiilas-blog · 7 years ago

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(( && GOGREEKSHQ TASK; MILA’S FACT SHEET ;; ))

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( &&. general information )

Full name: CAMILA ELISE TAYLOR

Pronunciation: CAM-EE-LA UH-LEASE TAY-LUR

Nickname(s) or alias: CAM, CAMI, MILA

Preferred name: MILA

Current age: TWENTY-ONE

Astrological sign: SAGITTARIUS

Element: FIRE

Title: MISS

Label: THE EPICURE

Gender: CISFEMALE

Preferred pronouns: SHE/HER

Sexual preference: PANSEXUAL, PREFERENCE TO GIRLS

Romantic preference: PANROMANTIC, NO PREFERENCE

Resides in: PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY

Current occupation: COLLEGE STUDENT

Language(s) spoken: ENGLISH ( FLUENT ), FRENCH ( BASICS )

Native language: ENGLISH

Current marital status: SINGLE

( &&. background )

Reason behind name: HER PARENTS JUST LIKED IT ? THEY HAD NO RL REASON

Birth order: FIRST, OLDEST CHILD OF THREE

Ethnicity: CAUCASIAN

Nationality: AMERICAN

Species: HUMAN

A/B/O: AB+

Religion: NOT RELIGIOUS

Financial status: WEALTHY

IQ: 135

Hometown: NEW YORK, NEW YORK, USA

( &&. physical appearance )

Looks like (or face claim, if applicable): BARBARA PALVIN

Height: 5′8″

Weight: 115 LBS

Shoe size: 6.5

Figure/build: ATHLETIC

Hair colour, Dyed?: BRUNETTE, NATURAL

Hair length: LONG, ONE INCH BELOW BRA LINE

Eye colour: BLUE

Glasses? Colour? / Contacts? Are they coloured?: NONE / NONE

Shape of face: HEART

Facial hair: NONE

Do they shave/wax? Where?: YES, LEGS/UNDERARMS

Skin tone: TAN

Tattoos: ARROW WITH HEART ( SIMILAR TO THE THIRD ARROW ON THIS PHOTO ) ON HER INNER LEFT WRIST

Piercings: EARS, RIGHT CARTILAGE

Dominant hand: RIGHT

If painted, what color are their nails/toenails?: CORAL

Usual style of clothing: CASUAL

Frequently worn jewelry: CHARM BRACELET

( &&. legal information )

Any speeding tickets?: TWO, BOTH RECEIVED SHORTLY AFTER SHE GOT HER LICENSE

Have they ever been arrested?: NO

Do they have a criminal record?: NO

Have they committed any violent crimes?: NO

Property crimes?: NO

Traffic crimes?: SPEEDING, TEXTING WHILE DRIVING

Other crimes?: NO

( &&. medical information )

Blood type: AB+

Date/time of birth: DECEMBER 3, 1995 10:52 AM

Place of birth: NEW YORK, NEW YORK, USA

Vaginal birth or cesauren section?: VAGINAL

Sex: CISFEMALE

Diet: NONE

Smoker? / Drinker? / Drug User?, Which?: SOCIALLY / SOCIALLY / NO

Allergies: BEES

Ever broken a bone?: YES, RIGHT WRIST

Hospital visits, what for?: 4 YEARS OLD, TONSILLECTOMY; 16 YEARS OLD, APPENDICITIS

Any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities: NONE

Any medication regularly taken: NONE

( &&. career information )

Past occupation(s): STUDENT

Current occupation: STUDENT

Do they enjoy their current occupation?: YES

Why do they do it?: TO GET A DEGREE & BECOME A FORENSIC SCIENTIST

( &&. personality )

Direct quote from them: “MY PARENTS ARE COMING FOR PARENTS WEEKEND AND MY ROOM IS A WRECK.” ( CAMERA PANS TO ROOM THAT’S SPOTLESS ) “I NEED TO CLEAN ALL NIGHT, SORRY. RAINCHECK?”

Positive traits: FRIENDLY, WELCOMING, GENUINE, & INTELLIGENT

Negative traits: INSECURE, PEOPLE-PLEASING, PERFECTIONIST, & FICKLE

Likes: BAKING, STUDYING

Dislikes: RUDE PEOPLE, DISAPPOINTING OTHERS

Strengths: LISTENING, ADVICE

Weaknesses: STANDING UP TO OTHERS

Fears/phobias: BEES, ANY INSECT TBH, HEIGHTS

Lucky number: 26

whispers sry i took so much off of here my b

( &&. favourites )

Food: MAC & CHEESE, MARBLE CAKE

Drink: RASPBERRY LEMONADE

Fast food restaurant: CHICK-FIL-A

Flavour: BLUE RASPBERRY

Word: FOOD

Colour: ORANGE

Clothing: GRAY SWEATER, SKINNY JEANS, BLACK BOOTIES

Accessory: CHARM BRACELET

Candle scent: VANILLA LAVENDER

Store: FOREVER 21

Instrument: PIANO

Game: CRASH BANDICOOT / SORRY!

Animal: DOG

Holiday: CHRISTMAS

Weather: SNOW

Season: WINTER

Artist: BLACKBEAR

Band/group: CHAINSMOKERS

Movie/film: BRING IT ON

TV show: GOSSIP GIRL

Sport: FOOTBALL

Sports team: GIANTS

School subject: SCIENCE

Teacher: MRS. FORTNER, GRADE 2

Possession: A FRAMED PHOTO OF HER FAMILY THAT SITS ON HER BEDSIDE

Name: JESSAMINE

Number: 26

Emoji: THE HEARTS SWIRLING AROUND EACH OTHER EMOJI IM 2 LAZY TO COPY YIKES

Mythological creature: GRIFFIN

Landmark: BROOKLYN BRIDGE

Person: HER TWIN BROTHER

( &&. skills )

Talents: SINGING

Ability to drive a car? Operate any other vehicles?: YES / NO

Can they ride a bike?: YES

Do they play any sports?: NO, USED TO CHEERLEAD IN HIGH SCHOOL

Anything they’re bad at?: SAYING NO

Do they have any combat training? Why?: NO

( &&. firsts )

Childhood memory: RIDING A BIKE WHILE HER GRANDMOTHER ARROVE HOME

Crush: JESSE MCCARTNEY

Job: N/A

Phone: NOKIA BRICK

Computer: HP

Kiss: ADAM, GRADE 3

Love: RILEY, GRADE 10

Sexual experience: ELIAS, GRADE 11

( &&. childhood )

Best childhood memory?: CHRISTMAS MORNING, AGE 7; NO PARTICULAR REASON IT JUST STICKS OUT TO HER YIKES

Worst childhood memory?: MIDDLE SCHOOL, GRADE 6; FELL DURING LUNCH AND ENDED UP WITH STAINS ALL OVER HER OUTFIT

What were they like as a child?: VERY GENTLE & SOFT-SPOKEN

Any crushes growing up?: ADAM, OBVIOUSLY

Did they know/like their parents?: MILA LOVES HER PARENTS

Worst influence on them as a kid?: THE NEIGHBOR, CASSIE

Did they have a lot of friends?: YES

Were they heavily punished?: NO NEED, MILA RARELY DID ANYTHING THAT REQUIRED PUNISHING

Were they more feminine or masculine?: FEMININE

Were they an early or late bloomer for puberty?: MILDLY EARLY, BUT BASICALLY HIT THE SAME TIME HER FRIENDS DID

Do they still know any of their childhood friends?: YES

Did they have any chores? What?: NO

Describe their childhood home: PENTHOUSE

( &&. this or that )

Expensive or inexpensive tastes?: CAN GO EITHER WAY, SHE’S QUALITY OVER QUANTITY

Hygienic or Unhygienic?: VERY HYGIENIC

Open-minded or close-minded?: OPEN-MINDED

Introvert or extrovert?: EXTROVERT

Optimistic or pessimistic?: OPTIMISTIC

Daredevil or cautious?: CAUTIOUS

Logical or emotional?: EMOTIONAL

Generous or stingy?: GENEROUS

Polite or rude?: POLITE

Book smart or street smart?: BOOK SMART

Dominant or submissive?: SUBMISSIVE

Popular or loner?: POPULAR

Leader or follower?: FOLLOWER

Day or night person?: MID-DAY THROUGH EVENING ?

Cat or dog person?: DOG

Closet door open or closed while sleeping?: CLOSED

( &&. family relationships )

Father: VINCENT JAMES TAYLOR

Describe their relationship: POSITIVE, MOSTLY; HE LIKES TO CONTROL EVERYTHING SHE DOES

Mother: ELISE CHARLOTTE TAYLOR NÉE WHITMORE

Describe their relationship: POSITIVE; SHE’S THE “GOOD COP” IN THE GOOD COP/BAD COP SCENARIO. LIKES TO GIVE MILA BACK-HANDED COMPLIMENTS

Brothers: ONE BROTHER, JT, TWIN.

Describe their relationship: THEY ARE VERY CLOSE, HE IS ALSO A STUDENT AT PRINCETON.

Sisters: ONE SISTER, ALESSIA, FIVE YEARS YOUNGER.

Describe their relationship: THEY WERE CLOSER AS KIDS BUT PROGRESSIVELY GREW APART THE OLDER THEY GOT.

Other important relatives: AUNT ELODIE, THE PERSON MILA GOES TO WHEN THINGS SEEM ALL TOPSY-TURVY AND SHE CAN’T TALK TO HER PARENTS/SIBLINGS

Significant other: N/A

Children: N/A

( &&. other relationships )

Best friend: TBA YALL

Childhood friend: CALLIE

Enemy: EMMA

Past romances: LIAM, ELIAS, TEDDY, VALERIE, EMMA, RILEY, EVAN

Pets: NONE

( &&. social media )

Do they have a Facebook? Twitter? Instagram? Vine? Snapchat? Tinder/Grindr? Tumblr? YouTube?: YES / YES / YES / USED TO / YES / NO / NO / NO

If so; Name on Facebook: CAMILA TAYLOR

Twitter handle: OHTAYMILA

Instagram user: OHTAYMILA

Vine user: N/A ANYMORE

Snapchat user: OHTAYMILA

Name on Tinder/Grindr: N/A

Tumblr URL: N/A

YouTube channel: N/A

( &&. musical tastes )

Theme song: CLOSER FT. HALSEY BY CHAINSMOKERS

Makes them happy: IDFC BY BLACKBEAR

Makes them sad: CONCRETE ANGEL BY MARTINA MCBRIDE

Makes them dance: LOCATION BY KHALID

Loves the most: SORRY NOT SORRY BY DEMI LOVATO

Describes them: ...TBA

Never gets tired of: NOBODY’S LISTENING BY LINKIN PARK

Would like to be played at their wedding: MARRY YOUR DAUGHTER BY BRIAN MCKNIGHT

Would like to play at their funeral: UNKNOWN

( &&. miscellaneous )

Do they have a fake I.D.?: NOT NECESSARY

Are they a virgin?: NO

Describe their signature: A MIX OF LOOPY AND CONDENSED

How long would they survive in a zombie apocalypse?: 2.5 SECONDS

Do they travel?: YES

One place they would like to live: NEW YORK, DON’T HAVE A DESIRE TO LIVE AWAY FROM FAMILY

One place they would like to visit: LOS ANGELES

Celebrity crush: THEO JAMES, DEMI LOVATO, OLIVIA HOLT

What can you find in their pockets/wallet/purse: MONEY, CREDIT/DEBIT CARDS, CHAPSTICK, NAIL FILE, COMB, PEN

Place(s) your character can always be found: KITCHEN

When does your character like to wake up?: 7-8 AM

What’s your character’s morning routine?: WAKE UP, SHOWER, EAT, CLASS/STUDY

What does your character eat for breakfast/lunch/dinner?: VARIES

How does your character spend their free days?: STUDYING, BAKING

What’s your character’s bedtime routine?: CLEAN OFF MAKEUP, WASH FACE, MOISTURIZER, LIGHT STUDYING

What does your character wear to bed?: TANK TOP AND SHORTS

If your character can’t fall asleep, what are they thinking about?: SCHOOL

What has been their greatest achievement?: VALEDICTORIAN

What is their idea of perfect happiness?: BEING AROUND PEOPLE SHE LOVES

What or who is the greatest love of their life?: N/A

On what occasions do they lie?: WHEN IT’S TO SPARE SOMEONE ELSE’S FEELINGS

Most marked characteristic: BLUE EYES, CARING NATURE

What is one thing they’d most like to change about themselves?: HOW MUCH SHE CARES ABOUT WHAT OTHERS THINK OF HER

How would they like to die?: IN HER SLEEP

Do they snore? NO

Do they chew their pens/pencils?: ONLY WHEN SHE’S REALLY STRESSED

Can they curl their tongue?: YES

Can they whistle?: POORLY, BUT YES

Do they believe in the supernatural?: YES

Have they ever cheated on anyone?: NO

Have they ever been cheated on?: NO

Has anyone ever broken their heart?: NO

Have they ever broken anyone’s heart?: NO

Are they squeamish?: MILDLY

Have they ever killed anyone? Why? How?: NO

Have they ever seen anyone die? What happened?: NO

Are they a lightweight?: SHE CAN GET TO ABOUT 4 DRINKS BEFORE BECOMING DRUNK AND 5 BEFORE IT’S COMPLETELY OBVIOUS, AT 6 SHE’S USUALLY BLACKED OUT

#(( && about ;; ))#gogreekpoints #gogreek:task

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dwtsfun · 8 years ago

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Dancing with the Stars Season 24 Week 5: The Magic of Disney

So I’m going to just say that the opening number was the best one I think I’ve ever seen on this show in the past 5 years. That was amazing. And I loved seeing little JT from SYTYCD last season. Anyway, it was Disney week and the dances were all actually pretty good. There weren’t any terrible ones. So let’s get to it.

Rashad and Emma- Foxtrot (Scorre=32)- Someone please give me something that I can do to further not call CAI by her name on twitter. I’ve snatched her caps, her vowels and her entire name and she STILL manages to spew some of the most asinine critiques. I don’t even know what she was talking about wit this one. She was blabbing on about nothing in order to justify throwing out a 7. The dance deserved no less than a total score of a 34. And to be honest, it should have been a 35. It was actually really good even with the odd pacing of the song. I enjoyed it but there was a lot fishy stuff going on here.

Nick and Peta- Jazz (Score=34)- This was Nick’s best dance to date. Peta choreographed a real stellar dance and Nick actually performed it almost all of it, great. He did have a few times where he was behind Peta, but otherwise, it was good. Way overscored though. It should have been no more than a 32.

Erika and Gleb- Viennese Waltz (Score=32)- I thought this was Erika’s best dance too. She was really connected to it and showed a side of her that I have been begging to see from her since the beginning of the competition. This was a great dance for her to go out on. I’m glad we got to see that before she was eliminated.

Heather and Alan- Jazz (Score=34)- Well, we had one dance that I was hoping would be amazing from Heather. She is a professional dancer and this should have been right up her alley. What she did, she did well. But I was disappointed and unimpressed. And it was mostly due to the choreography. I blame Maks for that because it screamed him. Now that we’re in “shocking elimination” territory, Heather should be extremely worried.

Bonner and Sharna- Tango (Score=30)- I actually thought this was a decent dance. The technique was not amazing, but his frame was nice. And it’s nice to see Bonner really start to open up more and more. He wasn’t such a drag to watch dance this week.

Normani and Val- Paso Doble (Score=39)- Mm.I found this dance to be a bit messy. It was very dynamic but she was off balance throughout the entire dance. And there was too much going on with the choreography. Because she was off balance, she never really got the chance to get back on balance. I personally think it should have been a 36. But the judges really gushed, so whatever. I guess. I also feel like Normani is really struggling in votes, More than most of us care to believe that she is.

David and Lindsay- Jive (Score=29)- They really came down on David hard this week. And I don’t think that they should have. It wasn’t the best dance, but it was probably better than Nick’s and definitely better than Bonner. He stayed on time and he wasn’t stiff. He was flat footed for sure but I actually think this was his most technically sound dance since his quickstep. He seemed to move more timid than I’m used to seeing from him, but it wasn’t that bad of a dance. It was still respectable.

Nancy and Artem- Jazz (Score=36)- This couple is in the perfect spot to really make a run at the top 4 at the very least (and maybe top 3). I already feel like Simone will be there as well as Rashad (as long as they don’t pull anymore stunts like they did tonight). Nancy is improving week to week and she is really enjoying herself. On top of that, she and Artem are perfect together and I always look forward to them getting out on that floor and dancing every week. I thought this dance was really good and the score was appropriate.

Simone and Sasha- Contemporary (Score=38)- This should have been a perfect score. I don’t know why they wanted to keep Normani at the top all by herself (looking at you [redacted]) (also I know why but that’s beside the point). But it was bull. This dance was actually coherent, not messy and Simone was grounded the whole time. On top of all of that, it was just super entertaining to watch. I still find it frustrating that she hasn’t gotten an interview with Erin yet. And two of the 5 weeks, she hasn’t gotten a post dance interview at all.

So yeah, Normani and Val, Erika and Gleb and Nick and Peta were all in jeopardy. And we all know that Erika got eliminated. That was sad. I actually started to really warm to her this week. Oh well. I guess it was time. Next week is Girl Groups vs. Boy Bands and team dances week. I know it’s probably gonna be a disaster of a theme week, so I’m not excited. As far as elimination next week, Heather, Bonner and Nick need to be concerned. I would have said Normani needs to be worried also, if she had been properly scored and hadn’t been placed in jeopardy. But yeah, let me know your thoughts and I will talk to you all soon!

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jayundergod-blog · 6 years ago

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Ultimate fear to me.

Say ive smoked some marijuana and im those thinker type when i smoke the chiba. Well suddenly im surrounded by only those bearing tone of demons prophane barbaroc behaviors. I dobt want to go to hell, and this fleshed out before my eyes is the nature of my worst fear. I am not only God Fearing, but damn nervous because Ive nearly awakened what I call the real me, an innervoice guiding. And i have begun eliminating distraction. I have cleared my thoughts and sight of many distractions. And have started to have a certain space for any almost all items under my use amd home. One thing that adds to another frustratoon os not remembering drawers or table or nooks random/common items did put that buisness card? Or it could just be a real pressue on moment and those 3 like mechanical reaches with your hands and ready to go in 5 seconds. I am comparing this new day 1 moment for me to Change from within. In order to make positive impact on future sitiations and various choices given, I have to jump way out of familiarity. I dont know how to make a friend where drugs and alcohol arent at least in the introductio. Its been over 20 years outside of my sponsor in an AA run since I have made any friends outaide of Getwasted Land. And its alnost like some of these people down here might be animated workers of a divine purpose. . Another reason my greatest fear revolves around Hell is Part A: my consistence in screwing up my life and Part B: randomly manipulating in or believing the reason for myaelf that My heart is attatched the right way, I believe God intended to place a mountain of pain shame and addiction and pride, occourances 1 after another saying put down the beer weed dream. Its not working. Test? bad test? CRASH collisions. wrecks.. Sexual imoralities that put me in only tighter, I like to think of as an irrational coat of shame. Switching schools over 20 times social bonding just seemed to naturally wade into the wastelabds. It was cool to say **** things, skip class and sneak a J. So still part B: reason for my greatest fear sometimes i worry my desire to fight evil with fire kind of mentality of a grey angel badass has to often and with any levels of sincerity been ... non supportive of God, and a compmete self failure. I am a highly successful failure. The tides of life had been decided to ensure have a livable income for life. All my lab blood tests come back good. Inspite of ludacrouis unprotected promiscuity and abusing chemicals alcohol included at very high danger quantities and lengths of time. To paranoid to bruah my teeth, and involved with the addict community they really do mess with my toothbrush when i let them know they can not live in my spare room area or you've got to go period. So the balance of pride and shame are big with me. Im simply putting it this way. I am very smart. Like, words don't automatically limit my perception and i discover ideas, inventions, ways to improve systems namely in buisnesses etc. But i believe i may have discovered a few awarnesses in the light of creation that had been considered. And i flow with innovation so much i didnt even write inventions down anymore. But im starting too now. I dont know if tbere is evil in my motives to understand, and my motive to protect the earth with my creative discoveries within the gift of life here. Glory all goes to God. And i feel pride and shame when i point something out like "this motivated by my naturally good heart amd my true self is a divine discovery. I am probably the first to say Ive beaten Lucifar hands down on 3 areas very simple. 1: there is guarenteed 1% of love within this entitty from the bible, And Lucifer is afraid of this within himself. He fears the capacity in his heart. Lucifer fears himself. And that tiny igmored reality of love is capable of seeking forgiveness and apologizing to his creator. Yea i could be nuts but 2: humans, generally any life form brought into light given the breath of life to seek the water of life, are conditioned, refined, we are born with lack of understanding and in time develop sincere amd forced pursuit of underatanding. I take it Lucifer just suddenly came into light an angel with uncomparable tangible working knowledge with math, music, stars, and whatever elae. Put Satan up against a regular devloped human and there is much to gain from the journey in being. Where satan just woke up with his bed made and an attitude similar to mine perhaps. "This can be better". Is where i stop the line. I assume God ridicule came from the statue with emotions and knowledge. Who should be a professilnal liar if he believes himself that his strength and power are not extensioms of God to begin with. Have to be a wicked bad liar to claim pride and ownership of anything whatsoever under the light. And finally 3 i feel im going to remember the 3rd way I checked the scariest guy in hell. But yeah no? assuming the story true, wouldnt the capacity in hiz heart be to close to deny and create fear and the most depressing "what am i going to wear today" moments? Before showing the tear in his eyes emotions. this waa a really long stretch of a first blog in life. Im considering Blog 2 to be straight down to the knit. My **** and my luster. None of you will likely know me so ill drop down my guard and even get into the pride/shame like. yes i was on that crack like they were infinity packs and the only translatable view to the edge lf my heart beyond the mountain God may have intended to be in my way. And yes for sure real sexual absurditiesn have been a matter if exploration and i found the most go to being ones least condoned like im straight but a few times on thjs other drug, the only reaskn the drug would be any jse to me if I went straight tranny freakazoid fk or even longer than 12 straight ( kind of) hours. I made a bjg ordeal of it too because i live in comparing to a waizt to shoulder hi body of water like fear. Im always nearly always in fear of something. Even if its just in a house all alone I am watching my tone and volume to not disturb the entity or embarrass myself. And theres usually a lot of BS running around my zone too. But anywhoo, scared of the SwaT teams and demons in a hotel, after the first usual 3 hours of eyes attatched to all directions i can notice without moving i said im going to max this **** out right here yeeaaaaa and i was doing poses for the potentials whoever stands at a second floor hotel window for 3 hours. You catch the drift. Sure part of the freaknicity invomved is mentally appealing. Im nkt going to lie. The flesh of a woman looking jedi equipped i mean has to be no sembalance of a male but thats neithr here nor anywhere for me because this isnt like, my hearts reach in any way. Since the last time i freaked off i encountered sexual encounter with an at the time friend lady and then almost a second time with the hottest coat rack breast formation i ever need to remember. Well she pulls out the money for intercourse part and now i am in not only great confliction but with a prepared spirit for the one of the highest priority lessons I could learn or be corrected on. And just then came a foundation of knowledge and vision. Flesh perveree barbaric using eachother like another drug or relieving some pain or just sheer addicted. Ive never had a time i can remember where there is something between us not being impprtant to me in the sack of awesome goods. If there is no relation there to me now more than ever, then jt is absolute perversive use of the flesh and body. I hope i dont get some effect of a born habbit and tranny zerg away my problem and enhanced self confliction. Hey that was mostly because damn new drug new coping mechanisim, and there are countless survielance vultures and sure there are good birds too but ive raised a lot of attention. I just let go on the FBI something about FBIs mom too. And maybe i just want the 3rd particles in good hands but I cant trust a comey supporting organization who are either ignoring the messed up bridge and back up the lies or they are beings without common sense. Plus some other group(s) i may or may not belong too. Im an expert **** up trying to move out of this world vast potential into a framing of the only way i see contributing chance to 5 generations from now to be atleast alive bearably. But no the world unison is buy what they say to buy no matter what healthier and bio friendly lower cost solutions are hidden from us. What would evolve in systems and technologies supressed by our ROTH oppressors fancy dress night club, is probably far beyond any imagination. But we want to say its cool ill stcik with gasine and everything else unto death. Whats a future generaton? I dont see blood on my hands yet. Not my problem. Or worst yet of the whe set is the sad existance of knowing that better is a controlled possibility removed from possibility by a few tactics to keep humans focused on other problems like, never never represent the problem with details about the CIA plane crash bringing cocain into america. Dont put on the news 24,311 bombs were dropped on other countries. Like is it 100s or thousands of oilline breaks per year? Either way they don't want you to see the pentagon lost 6.5 trlion bucks whoops . And tobaccoo being a substantial source of tax revenue. Whatever moneys not the problem here. Its how ks your FDA cool with 6000 known additves to a ciggrrate? and youre good with modified organism (gene manipulated plant life namely fruist and veggiesbyou can claim intellectual rights to tomatoes now by altering its DNA) that most consumers would lome the right to know but man its over with. Im either going to just die one day... Or I'm going to dye knowing i threw down a few sparks that reached a storm the ROTH associates will have to get stepping. Go buy your own planet or island of youre so obsessed with being king lizard man. Destroying the offspring futures chance of a liveable world and potential of decent m humanity instead of 10 billion people having to suddenly adjust with the last forseeable year with petro fuels or stop kilming the world. stop taking more grip over our societies industries and market lkke..... I know allegedly 90% media is slapped into air by atleast 1 out of just 6 mega corps. Sl is that lime our clothes are probably boiked up to ROTH brands? ummmm blog 1 i might S sell have gave an essay i worked on a year in the American college system at the podium with the XYZ or funny stain black shirt liike.... Yea l make this mire worth while and if it fails me or i fail i might even try a second blog life. But i realoze the value in these blogs being revved around free introduction to inventions. All the way up to a new style of buildings. lkke really hard to see as anything but futuristic, easier, and better in at least a few distinct ways. #1 perk of this technology given we are not on unlimited resource world but ements kf the housing structure are intact by such a way that it can be reutilized and ultimately there is potential for a no waste technology that reaches every door in the earth thats been done up the new way. Syria Afghanistan ans in general the countries that had devestated ways of lives of countless individual lkves of family members pretty much need to be rebuilt by this building technogy unseen. And the speed should be quicker as well. blog1 the ramble of death. the simplicity in taking base technology and enhancing them with personal and ho.e life is not only missing from our choices but unbelievable how eaay it would seem to accomplish the evidence of .mmm It only seems impossible because its not on tap at any restaurants we know. Partly why i have arranged a vision of my most hoped for life one without its core an office and a desk but one built from the potentials of imagination. Imagination being in part most crucial in expanding reality. Alright next one will be shorter sweet cut and dry. The facts in my peraonel history. ps im paranoid schizo like pretty much everything frim swat teams, demons, and ritualistic annual sacrifice held secretly in the depth expanse of a tunnelways descendance into reality where only one hope has life, that is Lord God mercy.

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