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chahnniesroom · 10 months

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tenderness | chapter 6: on my own

[noun] /ˈtendərnəs/

1. the quality of being gentle, kind, or loving

2. the feeling of pain, aching, or soreness

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in a world where soulmates are rare and precious, you don’t know why the universe has decided to give you one. you never could have imagined that they would be an idol, and one that you worked with at that, or the challenges that would arise from your bond.

chapter word count: 4.8k

chapter warnings: jealousy (? not really a warning, but i'll include it anyway)

a/n: i was blown away by the response for chapter 5 (and the rest of the fic too). thank you everyone so much!! can't believe that we're already past the halfway point of tenderness, hope that everyone continues to enjoy it!

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It feels like you’ve barely fallen asleep by the time that your alarm wakes you. The hum of Charge between you and Chan is faint through the layers of clothing that you wear. For once, it doesn’t bring you any comfort. Although the two of you had maintained physical contact throughout the night, it feels like you’re miles away compared to the previous nights that you’ve spent curled around each other. You have no idea when he had finally gotten back to the dorms even though you had a fitful sleep.

The second you extricate yourself from the sheets and break contact from Chan, your stomach drops. Exhaustion seeps into you and you have to steady yourself on your bedside table to avoid losing your balance. In his sleep, Chan shifts, rolling towards the warm spot where you were previously lying, but doesn’t wake up. Remembering what happened last night makes things worse, so you do your best to compartmentalise it so that you can focus on the day ahead. One day with less sleep and less Charge can't hurt you, you think to yourself.

When you check the time on your phone, you realise that you must have slept through your first alarm and you’re going to be late if you don’t leave in 15 minutes. The adrenaline is enough to fully wake you up and you stumble to the bathroom in the dark. Somehow, after getting ready as fast as you can without waking anybody, you make it to the company in time. You’re lucky that the early hours mean that transiting was smoother than usual and you didn’t have to fight your way onto the bus.

You unpack your things at your desk and head down to the room that was booked for the interviews planned for the day. The bright studio lighting that has already been set up exacerbates a pounding in your head that you hadn’t noticed before, but you ignore it to greet the staff that are already there.

When Eunsung enters the room and sees you, concern immediately creeps into his expression. He sidles up to you and bumps your shoulder with his.

“Rough night?”

You lean in close to him and whisper as if sharing a secret, "stayed up late rewatching a drama."

"Ah," Eunsung nods, immediately accepting your lie at face value. "Which one?"

"Moonlight Lovers. Last few episodes."

"Say no more. I've never been able to watch that without shedding a tear." You both laugh at that, knowing Eunsung could cry at a sad commercial. You don't know if he believes your story, but you're just grateful that he's playing along that nothing is wrong. He knows better than to prod too much, it’s a sure way to get you to instead close down even more.

"Is it really that obvious?" you ask quietly, fingers reaching up to poke the eye bags that you had hastily covered up this morning. You’re pretty sure that last night you had done a decent enough job making sure that your eyes wouldn’t be swollen today, but hadn’t had a chance to look at it carefully. Since you had barely enough time to get ready, you had hoped that you might be able to touch up your makeup more before starting work, but had been swept away in preparations the second you had arrived.

"No, I just know you too well." He laughs when you swat his shoulder half-heartedly.

The boys file into the room right after you’re finishing getting everything ready, but before you have a chance to leave the room. You smile and greet them with the rest of the staff, but studiously avoid looking at Chan. Just the brief glance when he had first walked in had stung. He looked… normal. Maybe a bit tired, but he always looked tired and well, that was what had gotten you into this mess in the first place.

Maybe to him, last night was just another night and you were being too sensitive. But his harsh words had reopened a wound in you that you thought had long scarred over. Somehow, it hurt even more thinking that he was totally unaffected.

You quickly try to pack up everything you need, handing out a timeline of the day to the team who are helping film that outlined which interview is for which company, what props, if any, are required, and whether or not a company representative would be present to help facilitate the interview. You make sure Eunsung has a copy of all the questions that Stray Kids are supposed to be asked and which are off limits, both in English and Korean. Almost all of the members are familiar enough with English that the interviews go smoothly without any other help, but a lot of the staff aren’t as fluent. You have a quick chat with the company translator and make sure she’s also comfortable with the schedule and what’s expected of her.

After making sure that everything on your checklist has been completed, you finally grab your things and leave, almost colliding with Felix in the hallway.

“Oh, you’re not staying, Y/n?” He asks, grabbing onto your arms to steady both of you. He smiles at you and you return it but look away quickly, not wanting to meet his eyes, and shrug off his hands.

“Sorry, I have some meetings that I can’t miss this morning. I hope the interviews go well Felix-ssi!” you call as you head to the elevator. When you glance back, his smile has faltered and he’s still standing in the hallway, looking a bit lost.

You’re not sure if he’s more surprised that you’re not going to be attending the schedule or your sudden return to addressing him formally. You had done your best to keep things more professional while at the company, but it had been surprisingly difficult, especially when most other managers also addressed the members more casually.

You feel a bit guilty, but last night had served as an important reminder that no matter how close you seemed or felt, you were still just staff. This time, you won't forget your place.

—

When you finally get back to your desk and open up your laptop after finishing all your meetings for the morning, you despair at the number of emails that have piled up in your absence. You start to sift through them, filing away the ones that don’t require any response. It’s probably a good thing that you’re not in a hurry to see Chan or any of the members, there’s a lot of work that you have to do in the next few days and not enough time to be distracted by attending schedules.

Your phone pings and you see a message from Eunsung waiting.

[12:14 pm - received]

lunch?

Huh, you hadn’t even realised it was already noon. Even though you hadn’t had a chance to eat this morning, you still don’t have much of an appetite. So far, tea has been enough to sustain you as well as provide the much needed caffeine after your late night. You’d had enough foresight to throw a protein bar into your bag before you left, but it still sits untouched on the side of your desk. You know that you should probably eat to help make up for the Charge that you missed last night, but you can't bring yourself to take a bite. Just looking at the bar is enough to make you nauseous so there's no way that you'd be able to stomach any other food.

[12:15 pm - sent]

sorry. have a mountain of work to do so i don’t have time today

[12:15 pm - received]

want me to bring something to you?

[12:17 pm - sent]

no thanks! i’m fine for now

[12:17 pm - received]

you sure?

[12:19 pm - sent]

please do not bring me anything.

[12:19 pm - received]

:(((

:((((((((

Amused, you lock and put away your phone and focus on your work. You really are scrambling to finish everything and probably wouldn't have taken a break even in normal circumstances.

Only 15 minutes have passed before there’s a knock at the door. Nobody else is using this work area today and you’ve learned over the years that Eunsung is one of the most persistent people you know.

“Oppa,” you whine, not bothering to look away from your screen. “I told you I didn’t need anything for lunch.”

“Uhm.” Your neck hurts with the speed that you whip your head around to look. Chan’s standing halfway through the open door, looking out of his depth.

He’s still in his outfit for the press junket, hair carefully styled and makeup immaculate. He looks like a different person. Sometimes you forget that the bare-faced, curly-haired boy in shorts and a hoodie that you’re used to is the same as the polished idol that is presented in front of the camera. He seems so far away, even though he’s right in front of you.

“Sorry, I thought you were Eunsung-oppa. He was… teasing me earlier,” you explain, embarrassed.

"Ah," he says. "You didn't eat yet?"

“Not yet, I’ll get something later,” you lie. “I have a lot of work to do.”

"Oh, okay. We have a break right now. I wanted to talk." He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “About… you know. Yesterday.”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, forcing yourself to smile. You try to stay concentrated on the email that you have to send, but it’s hard enough to think of the right English words to use when you're alone. Instead, you stare at the blinking text cursor, already wanting this conversation to be over. Maybe it was better when you thought he didn’t care about what he had said to you.

“No, it’s not fine. I shouldn’t have said all those things. I was too harsh. I hurt you. I'm sorry,” he insists, stepping closer.

You finally turn to look back at him, but still can't get yourself to look him in the eye, instead focusing on the cut of his jaw. His hair has grown long enough that curls are starting to gather below his ear even after styling. You wonder how long it will be until the stylists are able to wrestle him away from his laptop and into a chair to cut it again.

“Okay. It’s not fine,” you concede. “But I forgive you. I understand that you felt frustrated. I can tell that you’ve been wanting to talk for a while and I’m glad that I know how you feel now. The delivery was just… poor, but it’s really not a big deal.”

That's not a lie, but your fingers start to curl into your palm anyway, nails digging into the flesh there. The tiny pricks of pain ground you, not stopping the hurt that came from Chan's words from echoing in your head like they had been the whole day, but distracting you from it.

I don’t need you bringing me food. I don’t need you reminding me about schedules. And I definitely don’t need or want you telling me when I should be resting.

It stung, especially knowing what he really meant when he said that.

I don't need you.

Looking back, you could see how you were acting overbearing. Yes, there was a soulmate bond connecting you two, but really that didn’t give you permission to act in such a familiar way. More than anything else he had mentioned, it had left a bitter taste in your mouth that he compared you to your eomoni when he now had the insight that your relationship with her had caused you so much pain. It hurt even more to think that maybe that was the reason he had mentioned her, that you had been that much of a burden.

No matter what he argues now, there was truth in what he said in the heat of the moment, frustration and lack of sleep bringing forth his honest thoughts.

I’m good now! I’m really good now. I was also good when you were not here. When you were not my soulmate.

You had never really considered what things would be like if you weren’t soulmates, there had been no point in it. Well, you hadn’t considered it until yesterday. After half an hour of trying to sleep with no sign of Chan returning, you had rolled onto your side and reached for your phone. With shaky fingers, you had pulled up Naver and typed in 'can you break a soulmate bond.'

The results had confirmed what you thought. There was no evidence of a bond being broken before. Of course, it was possible for soulmates to live apart from each other for extended periods of time. It just required more food, more water, more rest for both people in order to compensate. That seemed even more inconvenient than the current situation and you knew it would never work for you and Chan.

This was the next best solution. You promised yourself that he wouldn't have to pretend that he wanted you around anymore. You'd keep your distance, stay professional, just like you had done before your First Touch.

“It’s not how I feel, I was just-” Chan protests.

“Chan-ssi,” you interrupt gently, hiding your feelings by reverting back to the formal speech that you had used when you first met. He blinks in surprise. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide things from me. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m really okay.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I do. I wanted to clear up everything. I know it’s not an excuse, but I was stressed.” He explains, cheeks slowly turning pink. “There was just a lot happening and then you were there and I don’t know what happened. I really really shouldn’t have yelled. It won’t happen again.”

“I believe you,” you say. “Thank you for apologising. You can go now.”

Maybe it’s a bit harsh as Chan visibly blanches, before his expression is wiped clean.

“Oh, okay.”

“Sorry,” you say, making sure to soften your voice. “I just. I really do have a lot that I have to finish right now. I appreciate that you came to talk to me, though. I’ll see you later.”

“Right, see you later.” Chan echoes faintly and turns towards the door. After it closes, there’s a long pause before you finally hear his footsteps resume.

—

The rest of the weeks before you leave for Japan seem to somehow simultaneously crawl by and pass in a flash. You’re frustrated by how unproductive you feel like you are at work compared to the amount of things you have to do because you keep getting distracted, but once you’re off, there’s nothing that you want to do. You spend an disconcerting amount of time catching yourself staring at your phone not realising it has already timed out and all you’re looking at is a black screen.

When you confess this to Eunsung, he starts dragging you out for dinner with the rest of the team. It keeps you busy and you have fun in the moment, but every time you get back to the dorms, the emptiness that has been plaguing you creeps back in.

It’s the same today. When you enter your room, there’s no sign of Chan other than the clothes that he was wearing earlier sitting on a pile on his side of the bed.

It’s no surprise to you, he’s been alternating between being out late at night, either in the studio or working out, or hunched over his laptop with his headphones on. You’ve gotten used to it by now and honestly don’t mind the decreasing number of interactions that you’ve had. On the surface, things are fine between the two of you, but everything is stilted in a way that it wasn’t before. Your relationship, whatever it was prior to that night in Chan's studio, has been strained and you don’t want to do anything to test the breaking point.

You shower quickly and head to the kitchen for a glass of water. When you pass through the living room, Felix is sprawled out on the couch, doing something on his phone. He straightens, legs falling back to the floor when he sees you.

“Hey stranger,” you greet him, instinctively smiling. In the safety of the dorms, with his hair fluffed up to form a dandelion puff around his head, you can’t help but treat Felix with the warm familiarity that you’ve tried to restrain the past few weeks. You had been friends with him way before the mess of your relationship with Chan and you feel guilty every time you see him at the company.

“Y/n! It feels like it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. How have you been?” You make a face at that.

“Work is crazy, you know. I think I’ve been dreaming about planning the tour, it’s basically all I think about these days.” You shrug. “But I can’t complain, I really like doing this and it’s not like you guys are spending the days relaxing. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” You abandon your task of getting water and settle beside Felix who puts an arm around your shoulders to tug you closer.

“I miss you,” Felix says quietly. “I know that you don't have time to come to our schedules anymore, but I miss having you there.”

“Aw, Felix. I miss you too. You can always come and find me, I’m never going to be far.” You wrap your arms around his waist and rest your head on chest. You don't tell him that it was more a choice by you rather than time constraints that led you to stop attending schedules. Felix is well intentioned, but you know he would immediately confront Chan if he found out that you weren't as 'okay' as you had assured Chan and that would just make things worse. You don't want to be more of a bother than you already are.

“What were you doing on your phone?” you ask after a moment of silence. Felix picks back up his phone and unlocks it. He has to turn it horizontal to properly show you the screen and the motion means that his arms encircle you.

“It’s a new game I’ve been playing,” he explains. “I’m still not that good, but it’s been fun! I thought Hannie would be around to play with me, but I think he’s still at the company.”

“Show me how it works,” you prompt him. You aren’t really interested in mobile games, but are rewarded when his face lights up. He starts by giving a quick tutorial of the game and showing off all the characters he plays as, before continuing on where he had left off.

The steady beat of Felix’s heart combined with the gentle rumble of his commentary and the constant exhaustion that plagues you these days easily lulls you into a semi-conscious state. You’re not quite fully asleep, but only partially aware of what’s going on around you. You keep thinking that you should get up so that Felix isn't stuck on this couch with you, but can't muster up the energy to actually move.

Eventually, you hear the front door open and footsteps pad towards the two of you.

“Is she sleeping?” a voice that isn’t Felix’s whispers.

“Yeah, she must have been pretty tired, hyung. I think she fell asleep almost an hour ago.”

“Thanks for taking care of her, Lix. I’ll bring her back to our room.”

A pair of hands ease under you and shifts your weight from Felix and into the person’s arms. The Charge sparks to life and you can’t help but lean into the comforting buzz, nestling into the warm hold.

It must be Chan, you think blearily.

You want to protest that you can walk yourself, that you don’t have to be carried back, but the Charge feels so good and so safe that you just relax further. It’s only a short walk down the hall, but the gentle rocking puts you back to sleep before you reach the bed.

—

Trying to balance concert practice, promotional photoshoots, and getting approvals for the next comeback means that it takes Chan an embarrassing amount of time to notice that something’s off.

It starts with the little things.

In between filming for a dance practice video, the members get a short break. Everybody collapses in different parts of the room, only getting up when a staff member enters with a couple trays of drinks. A small crowd forms and Chan waits until everyone else has taken their pick before heading over. He’s disappointed to find that there’s only iced americanos left. When he instead goes to fill his water bottle, he finds Felix already at the fountain.

“You didn’t get a drink?” Chan asks. Felix scrunches up his nose in response.

“They only had coffee today.”

“Don’t they usually have other options? I thought you’ve been getting that fruit tea these days.”

“That’s only when Y/n is organising the order. She always tries to get me things I like.”

“Oh, that’s nice of her.”

“Come on, hyung, you’re the one that’s her soulmate, shouldn’t you know this? She’s the only one that remembers to get that weird custom protein chocolate smoothie thing that you always drink.”

“I-” Chan stops to think. It’s true that he had been favouring a strange specialised order from one of the cafes that they usually get drinks from. He had stopped by there one afternoon when he had been in the area, then mentioned it off-handedly when eating lunch with the team and from then on it had appeared at a lot of their schedules. Most of the time, a staff member’s phone gets passed around to order their drinks or they just get served a variety of drinks to pick over, but now that he’s trying to recall, it’s been a while since either of those have happened.

He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, he’d just been happy to have a drink that he liked. He hadn’t even realised that Y/n was the one behind their personalised orders, but feels off-kilter knowing that he had never thanked her for it.

—

Y/n hasn’t attended Channie’s Room in weeks either. Chan knows that everyone on her team has been scrambling with work related to the international legs of the tour, but even with a heavy workload, Y/n had never missed an episode before. Having her in the room had been a quiet comfort that Chan hadn’t appreciated at the time as much as he should have.

He misses her.

It doesn’t feel the same. Chan finds himself playing a song and turning slightly to see what Y/n’s reaction is, or reading out a silly pick up line and then feeling his smile drop a little bit when he realises Y/n wasn’t there to hear it.

He’d like to say that he’s playing it off well, but Stays can see it too. It’s almost embarrassing how fast they catch on. The comments that scroll by, most of them too fast for Chan to read, are getting increasingly concerned for him. Where previously they had spammed messages about how happy he seemed, they’re now pointing out that he looks tired, that something is different. After enough people tell him to eat more or get more rest, he just ends the stream, annoyed and guilty at the same time.

—

Another time, Chan’s spending the evening in his studio with Changbin and Jisung, trying to finalise a guide for one of the tracks they’re planning to record.

“Oh hey, I didn’t know noona was close with Minyoung,” Jisung says. When Changbin makes a noise of interest from where he’s sitting beside Chan, Jisung flips around his phone to show them an Instagram story that Minyoung, one of their stylists, had posted. Y/n, Minyoung, Eunsung, and a number of other people are crammed together in a booth at a dimly lit restaurant. They’re all smiling widely.

Chan looks a little too long at the way that Eunsung’s arm is slung around Y/n. Even after Jisung takes his phone back, Chan keeps thinking of how natural it looked, Eunsung at the perfect height so Y/n could rest her head against him, his hand curled around her shoulder, pressing her tightly against his side.

He can't remember the last time he saw Y/n smile like that.

“It makes sense,” Changbin comments. “Y/n hasn’t been spending as much time in the dorms lately, but the tour is coming up so close. I’ve heard that her team has been going out a lot to try to keep up morale and get to know each other before we leave. It’d probably be suspicious if she keeps cancelling."

"I wish we could have team bonding dinners to keep up morale before the tour." Jisung pouts.

"That's what this is!" Changbin gestures towards the spread of empty takeout containers that fill Chan's desk.

"That's the dinner part, where's the bonding, hyung?"

In response, Changbin immediately pulls Jisung into a headlock causing him to shout.

"Don't you feel closer to me now?" Changbin looks up at where Chan is zoned out. "Hyung, don't we look close?"

"Uh, yeah. Super close. Can we just focus on finishing this guide first and leave the bonding for later? I promised that we'd send it for review by tonight."

Contrary to his words, Chan’s thoughts continually wander, straying to the blurry image of Y/n. They get the guide sent off, but Chan's not fully satisfied and he can tell the others agree.

He doesn’t know what's wrong with him.

—

Really, Chan should have known that something is up the evening he finds Felix over at their dorms.

A flare of something curls in his stomach at the sight of Y/n curled up against Felix. When she turns her head, nuzzling his chest, that something becomes a sharp twist of emotion, one that Chan still isn’t able to identify.

He knows that Felix is strong enough to carry her to bed, but still steps in and scoops her up before he can make an attempt to get up. He lays her down on her side of the bed as gently as he can, but her face still scrunches up when he lets go of her. He cups her cheek until her expression smooths out, then steps back.

When he returns to the living room, he joins Felix on the couch and they stare ahead at the darkened screen of the TV for a moment. Chan can tell that Felix has something he wants to say.

“Do you think she’s been working too much, hyung?” Felix finally asks in a hushed voice.

“What do you mean?”

“It just seems like she hasn’t been well recently. I don't know if something happened or if she just hasn't been getting enough rest.”

“It’s probably her job,” Chan says noncommittally. He's definitely not thinking about a late night in his studio a few weeks ago. "Everyone has been busy these days.”

“Hyung,” he says tentatively. “You’ve been working a lot lately too, we’re a bit concerned-”

“What is this, some sort of intervention?” Chan’s not quite sure where the sudden burst of irritation is from, but it seems to be a common occurrence these days. “First Y/n, then I can’t get Stays off my back, and now you? Why is everyone ganging up on me so much?”

“No, it’s-”

“Felix! Just leave it, okay?" Shaking his head in frustration, Chan stalks back to his room.

Sitting heavily on the bed, he buries his face in his hands and lets out a deep breath to calm himself. Luckily he didn't wake Y/n during his conversation with Felix and he takes the time to study her for a moment.

He has to admit that Felix is right, under her eyes are shadows that never used to be there and even in her sleep, she's not fully relaxed. It's just for the next few days, he tells himself. After my deadlines have passed and once the concerts resume then we'll both be less busy and have the time to focus on each other.

In the meantime, he slides under the covers until he's right behind Y/n. He loops his arm around her waist, then pulls her closer, relieved when he sees that the tension in her body drains away.

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dotster001 · 1 year

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My Drowning Heart

Summary:Azul x gn!reader Azul helps you down from a depressive episode.

CW: This is based on my personal depressive symptoms! If this is concerning or distressing to you, please do not read! We all have different ways of coping and that is okay!

A/N: Azul/Octotrio was most requested when I asked, but I have saved the other suggestions so when I have my next depressive episode wave of inspiration, I'll go there next.

Vil's Version

One week.

That was how long it had been since anyone had seen or heard from you or Grim. After sending Jade to…ahem….interrogate various students, a couple people had spotted Grim in the kitchen or right outside Ramshackle, but aside from that, nothing.

He was definitely starting to sound desperate in his text messages to you. The current chat record read as follows.

Sunday 8:32 am

Good morning. One of our servers has called in sick, would you be willing to fill in? Your services would be fairly compensated.

Sunday 10:29 pm

It is not like you to ignore my job offers? Did you get yourself into some trouble? We can help you out, at a lovely discount.

Tuesday 3:15 pm

Your friends say they haven't seen you in a couple of days. Is everything alright?

Wednesday 9:10 am

I must admit I am beginning to feel some concerns for your absence.

Wednesday 12:15 pm

Is everything alright?

Thursday 3:20 pm

Floyd saw Grim this morning, but he rushed back into your dorm very fast. Is everything okay? If you've been kidnapped, delete this message and send two smiley faces.

Thursday 3:25 pm

That wasn't my best idea. If you're reading this, kidnapper, I can negotiate. I can make you a deal you can't refuse.

Thursday 4:39 pm

My patience is wearing thin. You have 24 hours.

Thursday 5:05 pm

Give me back my Y/N!

Friday 8:00 am

Grim if you have their phone please delete my prior messages. Some specialty tuna will be waiting for you upon your return to class.

After finding out from Idia that he couldn't delete his pathetic messages without your phone, he took a good hard look at himself, and realized all the texts showed his deep concern for you.

So, swallowing his pride, he decided to investigate at the last known location of Grim. Ramshackle dorm.

He arrived, making a polite knock. Nothing. He knocked again. Nothing. He began pounding on the door with his fist. A wide eyed Grim opened the door.

"Good afternoon, I'm looking for your other half," Azul said, calmly sidestepping around Grim, and beginning to make a beeline towards the stairs.

"What are you doing here? You're not welcome, sketchy octopus…"

"I'm here because I'm concerned about Y/N. It's alright if you don't want me to see them, but are my fears correctly founded?"

Grim froze for a moment, his eyes flickering to the stairs then back to Azul.

"They…they said they were tired and it would pass soon. Don't worry about it."

Azul raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, fine, I don't believe they're just tired. They don't leave the bed except to take care of me, and even then they don't take care of themselves. So I gotta get em food or they won't eat."

"Have they," he stuttered and adjusted his glasses to hide his pink cheeks, "Have they communicated or messaged anyone?"

"No, they only opened their phone to turn on a video, and they keep watching the same three videos over and over. Ace called three times and Y/N ignored all three."

"Hmph," Azul muttered to himself. He then pulled out a can of deluxe tuna. "There's more of these waiting for you in the VIP room. I'll take care of things from here."

Grim looked doubtful, and Azul sighed.

"Believe it or not, I am not an utterly heartless creature. I have grown concerned for the prefect's well being. Now go get your tuna, and I will have them back to a normal state in no time."

Grim's eyes wandered up the stairs again, and he put his paws on his hips.

"Okay, but if they are broken when I return, the Great Grim won't hesitate to avenge his henchhuman!"

And with that he scampered out of Ramshackle. Azul took a calming breath, then proceeded up the stairs, until he heard a low volume video behind one of the doors.

"Good afternoon, prefect," he said quietly as he peaked in. He was met with your tired, confused, eyes.

"Azul?" You croaked out, before looking down at your phone and wincing. "Fuck, I gotta get Grim his dinner."

"I've already taken care of that," he said sitting down on the bed. "Tell me, how are you?"

"Tired."

"That's all?"

"Yeah."

"Hm," he pursed his lips, before nodding to himself. "Tell you what, I will pay to fix the second floor windows, if you get out of bed, and take a shower or a bath."

You groaned, before putting the pillow over your head.

"I'm too tired to shower."

"I'll fix all the windows."

"That's not gonna make me less tired."

He massaged his temples, before sighing heavily.

"I will get the shower ready, pick out a new set of pajamas for you, and brush your hair after. All you have to do, is get in."

"And get clean…"

"You don't have to if you don't want to. Just getting in will help you a lot. If you're not up to getting clean, that's alright, start with an attainable goal."

You groaned before, "Fine. Tell me when the shower is ready."

"As you wish."

He stood up, found the shower and got it running, making sure the temperature would be reasonable for a human. He then whispered a spell, causing the shower to have the calming scent of lavender.

He retrieved you, and walked you to the bathroom, before returning to your room to tidy up while you sat under the water. He'd never been in your room before, but he was certain it wasn't usually this…uniquely decorated. Two bags full of trash later, he changed the sheets, brought you that new set of pajamas, and set to work finding your hair brush. He also procured a large glass of water.

After you were dressed, you reentered your room.

"How was it?" He asked, genuinely hoping you were feeling better.

"I used some body wash on my torso," you said, not making eye contact.

"That's great! That's a huge start."

You mumbled under your breath, but he cut you off.

"No really, that's great. I know how hard it is to take care of yourself…" he trailed off before more of the forbidden lore came up.

You gave him a small smile, before looking around the room.

"Did you clean? It looks great."

"Naturally," he smirked. "Now have a seat, I'll brush your hair out."

You sat down and he handed you the glass of water.

"Drink all of this while I brush your hair," you groaned, but he cut you off, "I mean it, prefect. You need to make sure you stay hydrated."

You sat down with a pout, and slowly began to drink the water as he got to work detangling your rat's nest of hair. He paused for a second.

"Y/N," he asked softly, after noticing you were drifting off. "Is there something you're supposed to be taking?"

You stiffened, before nodding.

"I can talk to Professor Crewel about getting you something, if that's alright?"

You nodded again, and he resumed brushing your hair.

"It's too quiet," you whispered at some point.

For a moment, he wasn't sure what to do. What could he do or say that would drown out the voices in your head?

"My love, my love, my fearless love, I will not say goodbye."

He began to sing softly under his breath. He knew his voice was exceptional. He just hoped it was good enough for you.

"Sea may rise, sky may fall, my love will never die."

Your shoulders relaxed, and you set the empty glass to the side. He finished your hair at the same time. He came around to the front of the chair, and knelt before you.

"Have you eaten today?"

"Yeah, Grimmy got me a big lunch. He's a good boy," you said, eyes tearing up a little.

"I'm not strong enough for him. I can't even go to class. How am I supposed to function in the real world?"

Oh shit. You were crying now. After a second of hesitation, he wrapped you tightly in his arms, and allowed you to cry on his shoulder. As the crying began to lessen he whispered,

"I'm sure a lot of people tell you this, but I swear to you, it really does get easier. And one day," he inhaled sharply, holding back his own painful memories, "One day, this will just be a moment in your past that you look back on when you are thinking about how good your life has become."

"You promise?" You sniffled.

"I'm so certain, that I'll make a contract with you that you get all my money if I'm wrong."

You laughed a little, then sighed.

"I'm tired."

"Are you tired or tired."

"I'm actually tired," you said with a half hearted smile.

"Alright, I made up the bed for you, so you can lay down if you want."

He helped you into the bed, tucked you in, and made to leave when you grabbed his wrist.

"Can…can you stay with me?" You hesitated, before rushing the next part, "you don't have to, I just…"

But he was already removing his jacket and tie before getting in with you. He wrapped his arms around you and snuggled in.

"Like that?"

"Yeah," you said, looking flustered, "like that."

Your eyes fluttered shut, and pretty soon your breathing evened out. He was starting to drift off himself when he noticed your phone sitting on a side table. All his messages to you came rushing back to him. He slowly started to work himself out of the bed. Or he was, until you whimpered and tightened your grip on him in your sleep.

He sighed to himself. He supposed he could indulge in this moment now, and delete the messages tomorrow. Though he couldn't help but hope that when you were better, he could have this opportunity more often….

....

Post Note: The song I referenced in this piece and in the title. It's on my mermaid's playlist so when I was trying to decide what our merman would sing, I thought it was perfect!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland azul #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #twst azul #tw depression

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fizziepopangel · 1 year

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A Fizziepop Take: Let’s talk about Blitz and Loona’s relationship

I’ve seen a few different reasons around the fandom for disliking Loona as a character, but I’m only going to touch on the biggest one I’ve seen, one being that she’s vulgar and vile toward the man who adopted her, Blitz. Now, maybe its my own fucked up relationship with my father that leads me to this conclusion, but I actually really like the way Loona and Blitz’s relationship is set up and the way it’s progressing slowly. I know I touched on it when I first started the account after seeing a post about how someone hated Loona because of the way she treated Blitz and blah, blah, blah…. But after watching the lost Helluva Boss episode, I actually like Loona and the relationship and I wanna talk about why, so let’s get into it.

I wanna start by saying that while I don’t condone how Loona treats Blitz, I understand why and I think the reasoning behind her behavior toward the imp plays a big role in the relationship. Now, to truly understand why Loona acts the way she does and why her attitude is the way it is toward Blitz, we have to remember how Loona came to be Blitz’s daughter. She was nearly 18 and about to age out of the pound, which is the hellhound version of an extremely fucked up fostercare system, and in the Helluva Boss universe, hellhounds are more of a commodity than a people of hell; used for jobs that require high laborand muscle, this does put hellhounds on the same level as imps, if not lower than the little red creatures. If we break this down, this likely means that Loona grew up in this system, either never being chosen to work or being chosen and brought back on multiple occasions when she was no longer useful to whoever she was adopted by, which would lead to a hoard of issues trusting anyone who signed her out of the pound since she would’ve essentially felt like a library book that would be returned when they were done or bored with it. Coupling that with the fact that in the flashback Blitz has to the first time he sees Loona in the pound, it’s likely that being aggressive wasn’t her nature in the beginning, but rather something she picked up to keep herself safe since we see in the flashback that she wasn’t the original aggressor, the slightly smaller hound was and after Loona’s defense, she reverts to someone who genuinely seems rather terrified of her surroundings…. This likely means that even locked in the cages of the pound, Loona was never truly safe in the one place she was the most connected to, and if she wasn’t safe from the other adoptees in the pound, there’s a good chance that the adults running the pound either abused her as well or just turned a blind eye to the abuse happening within the cages. Coming from a background like that and living that way would mean that Loona likely never truly learned to control her emotions outside of turning everything into something manageable (like rage), and never truly learned to foster trust since a place like that wouldn’t breed people she could foster trust with on many occasions.

Blitz, while being the founder of a murder for hire group and an assassin himself, genuinely embodies the phrase “be who you would have needed when you were a kid”. From what we know about his childhood so far, he wasn’t valued by his father and didn’t seem to get much praise from those around him at all. We see on multiple occasions that Blitz is rather softhearted when it comes to the people he considers himself close to. He does what he can to protect them, he’s affectionate, and he values what they think of him…. It makes sense that the imp saw Loona in the pound and immediately wanted to take her away from the horrorshow he saw and offer her the care and protection he feels she (and likely himself) never got in younger years. I think that’s what causes the man to be so much more lenient with her than most people think she deserves.

Now, because Loona grew up in a place that taught her that trust wasn’t something you could put in anyone other than yourself and only fostered aggression and fear in her, I don’t think she actually understood how to be a part of a loving home, which is what Blitz does his best to provide her. I mean if you think about it, the little red creature takes her in at 17, creates an abuse free space, most likely gives her food, clothes, even gives up his bedroom for her so she has a safe, private place to sleep, and then goes a step further and gives her a job so that she’d still have a way to support herself if she chose to leave home when she legally became an adult. Now, if you think about this from the perspective of someone who has nothing and has never had anything like this, it sounds amazing; almost too good to be true….. Most times, people say that if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is… so Loona has likely spent most of her time with Blitz just waiting for the other shoe to drop…. And if you think of it that way, from her perspective, while everything that Blitz has given her is amazing, it must also be terrifying since suddenly she had so much more to lose if she let herself get attached to him and everything he’s given her and he were to suddenly abandon her for any reason.

I know, anyone watching the show can easily tell that Blitz does his best to be a good father figure to Loona, even when he’s met with resistance and sarcasm or downright physical violence on her end. We all know he would never purposely do anything to hurt her in any way, and I think Loona knows that too on some level, but everything she has hinges on Blitz wanting her around. Her home, her job, and up until she met Vortex and was introduced to his friends and other hellhounds at the party, her only ‘friends’ were Blitz’s employees so at any given moment, Blitz could have taken pretty much everything from her if he wanted to. If you’re attached to someone and they up and leave, effectively changing your entire life in the way Blitz could have done to Loona, it’s going to hurt and even just the thought can be anxiety-inducing…. I think that’s what Loona holds on to; that feeling of ‘I can’t get too attached’ since she probably knows first hand how badly it would hurt to have the rug pulled out from under her like that.

Looking at things that way, I think it makes sense why Loona is so verbally and physically violent with her adoptive father…. And it makes sense why Blitz puts up with anything she throws at him (literally). The man has gone out of his way to show Loona that he plans to stick around as long as it is physically possible for him, and I don’t think anything short of death could make him change that way of thinking.

Now, I know Loona is an adult now and she should definitely work on controlling herself and getting past everything holding her in that mentality, but I think she actually is healing in her own, slow way. You can see it when she almost calls Blitz dad and when she talks to Octavia about Stolas. Loona talking to Octavia about the importance of a father just putting in effort when it’s not easy to had just as much to do with her and Blitz’s as it had to do with Stolas and Octavia’s in that moment and I honestly think that was a big moment for her because despite there not being any big changes between her and Blitz, I think that acknowledging the struggles of the relationship and everything around it went a long way in her opening that wound in a way that meant it maybe healing properly from it, even if she didn’t outright acknowledge it. I think that’s partly what opened the gate for the scenes we see in the lost episode that was released the other day. Loona’s never let herself call Blitz her dad out loud, but at Bee’s she not only calls him her dad, but shouts it to a crowd of people…. And even as an audience, we can see how much that meant to Blitz, especially after the night he had at Ozzie’s prior. Despite being a small thing, I think we actually saw a huge win for Blitz in that moment as well as a massive breakthrough for Loona. And I think that breakthrough for Loona continues as we watch her genuinely care for Blitz in a softer way, similar to the way she briefly looked after Octavia back in “Seeing Stars”, even gently putting the drunk man to bed and promising him that even if she was alone there, the man wouldn’t spend the rest of his life alone. Does Loona know exactly what she’s promised? Maybe…. Maybe she only agreed to be comforting in that moment since she knew he needed it, but either way, both of those options are big for her in their own ways; like big enough that we might actually see a bigger shift in their dynamic to a healthier father/daughter place.

Do I think things can just get better now that we have a bit of new context involving Blitz’s relationship with his daughter? No. I think we’ll see a lot more scenes with softer interactions between the two as Loona continues to heal and Blitz continues to try to be a good father to her, like the ones we see in “Western Energy”, but I think it’ll continue to happen on the slower end of the spectrum. But the healing and progress is something I love for both of them and cannot wait to see more of as the show goes on. But remember, that’s just a Fizziepop thought on this complex relationship.

#fizziepop thoughts #fizziepop take #helluva boss #vivziepop #loonie and her dad #blitzo helluva boss #helluva boss season 2 #blitz and his loonie toonie #helluva boss loona #blitzø #blitz is a good dad #loona deserves to heal

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vtforpedro · 14 days

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life update - long

It took me a hot minute to find the last update. December, I guess? I'm so tired I never stop being tired and time is not real anymore. Anyway. Disability Stuff: I won my case in federal court in February. They said it'd take a year so I was a little hm. Found out the SSA voluntarily asked the judge for the remand because the written decision was indefensible and they were gonna take another look. Pros: Hey, I won! I get a second hearing! Cons: I didn't get a brief written by the federal law firm because there was no time. This is actually a tactic used by the SSA. I have no doubt they're fine tuning another denial. I also have to wait for the lower level court to figure out what was so bad about it (that they'd already ruled was perfect) to give to the judge I will have another hearing with. The same judge. Who said I was a liar multiple times and omitted eight months of medical evidence and said mental health issues are subjective hahaha. I hate this country. Health: Boy howdy it's been better and worse. I had the tilt table test in late December, went... ok enough, but my neuro didn't like how ambiguous the report was and sent me back to them to speak to an autonomic disorder specialist. Scheduled in Jan, just had my appt with her this month lol she is busy. She ordered: genetics test, labs, and skin biopsy. I've done the first two, third is scheduled in July and I'm gonna be a mess because needles u_u Brain stuff is much of the same. Episodic. Manageable times are a godsend, bad times are really bad. My heart started to do some funky ass shit a few months ago. My mom kept writing it off as anxiety no matter how much I explained that it felt like my heart was pounding after exercise. My BP and pulse shot up high for a while and b/c my pulse never came back down and it was interfering with, you know, living, my PCP sent me to cardiology. :') Cause I wanted my heart involved in this mess One 24hr holter monitor, echo, and heart ultrasound later, and I have a new heart condition. He said 'your heart is beating so fast you would normally see it with exercise' bada boom baby and has nothing to do with fucking ANXIETY >:[ I'm on heart medication. 10 meds. I need to start another med for my psych but that's 11 and I'm honestly getting upset because it's so fucking much medication in one day but every single one of them is necessary so what can really I do? Personal: Relationship with my mom is at an all time low. This is extremely unfortunate because a few weeks ago, my mom told me she is basically being 'laid off' (she's not losing her job for a while, just retiring earlier than expected) and I have to leave my home of 10 years by mid-August. Got no sympathy from her about it *finger guns* I've gone through the devastation of that and am kind of just stuck in how is any of that gonna work. My brother and I can't live together, so he's gonna move into a family friend's rental. Except he has no job and hasn't been able to get one in months. He started one on Monday, is gonna leave by Friday because it's horrific ig. Anyway my mom promises he won't be there. We have to move based on my disabilities and my mom's house is gonna have to reflect what we have here. I'll see it when I believe it. I don't trust her anymore. Extra unfortunate that I'm gonna be living 24/7 with my mother who has been an abusive person in my life the past two years. The short break thru the day that my apartment is just mine, quiet and gentle, is gonna be gone. I'll be introducing my solitary 11 year old cat Lilly into a house with 3 other cats. She only knew Isis her entire life. She was just diagnosed with neuro issues this year after going through an MRI. We don't know if she has seizure activity or if it's movement disorder, but the med she's on treats both and she has gotten better. Same process Isis went through. Cannot believe I have two cats with neuro issues and likely the same one. May 18th was one year since Isis passed. Rough, tiring day.

I don't know how it has been that long. Feels like it just happened. I can still see her and feel her through my apartment and losing it in August will probably shatter me most because of losing the last place she existed in. I miss her more than I can say.

She was my little soulmate and her absence is felt in every corner here. Writing/Fandom:

I went through a whole fucking situation over in the Stranger Things fandom that has left me not wanting to post anymore. Idk if neuro shit has destroyed my ability to write but it's humiliating and painful every time I post a fic.

I posted stucky (1 out of 2 fics this year) on my main acct and lost 8 fuckin user subs? Like goddamn. What'd stucky do 😭 anyway it was even more devastating and kinda like 'here's your big ass sign to keep your writing to yourself.'

Between the god awful shit that happened in the ST fandom and my inability to put together even a good one shot, I'm feeling really down about one of two creative things I can do in my life. I used to love sharing my stuff. I want to write and share but it feels like it's harming my MH. I can't draw or paint right now, either. And I can barely move around my apartment without pain. I can't even leave it except for doctor appointments.

Idk. Very walls are closing in type of feeling and I hate it. In short: I'm tired, struggling, and too many things are happening at once. I love you all 😩💜 thank you for your patience and love and kind words. Your support is felt through one update to the next. I hope you're all well and I'm sending all my love and hugs to you.

#vtforpedro personal #vtforpedro medical #tw mental health #tw disability

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wrenreid · 2 years

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Just Acting

mature content in this story, 18+ advised.

Chapter One:

"Y/n Y/l/n," you answer your phone.

"Hey, Y/n this is Jeff Davis. I'm calling to tell you about your part as Delilah on the show."

Oh no, you think. This is the part where I'm kicked off. Maybe it just wasn't working out for them, or they didn't feel like paying me a few times a month.

"Well..."

Oh, just get on with it.

"I'm so glad to inform you that we want you to be a series regular,” the voice on the other end exclaims.

"What? Really?! This is amazing. Thank you!!"

A smile bigger than your entire face spreads on your lips. You're going to be a true character on Criminal Minds. Your heart pounds a million miles a minute.

Ever since that phone call a few months ago, you've been even more uptight about work. This was your biggest project ever, and you couldn't mess this up. Especially since you're still trying to prove to your father that this was a good idea. He wanted you to get “a real job” as he put it. You've been trying to show him that acting is a real job, and you make more money than you would as a teacher or whatever he wanted you to become.

You started acting during university, and ended up finishing the remanding two years online so you could work on more films. That pissed your father off so much.

You'd landed a role in New York in a short film, it didn't pay much, but it was really exciting. It made you even more interested acting, and you started to audition for more and more roles. Obviously, you were turned down quite a bit, but you finally landed a fairly good part in a tv show. The show only ran for two seasons, but that was a total of 9 months of going on set five times a week.

You'd landed some more small roles, and then your agent found you the audition of a lifetime. It was for one of your favorite shows, Criminal Minds. The role was minor: a young woman who was the daughter of a high powered business man who got kidnapped. Your character was 26, and good thing you have a young face because you were 32 at the time.

Delilah was only supposed to be on screen for two episodes, but they ended up bringing her back a few times throughout the end of season 15.

You thought you were done with the show for forever, so clearly you were shocked and delightfully thrilled when you got the news you were returning for season 16.

You remember your first day on set, a bundle of nerves and excitement. Everyone was so nice. All except one person. He wasn't necessarily rude, but the vibe he gave off was that of a conceited and immature teenager.

And you weren't really wrong with that first impression. Matthew Gray Gubler, one of America's favorite actors, but your least favorite coworker. He was just an assholish guy who acted like a child most of the time. You really only could tolerate him as Spencer Reid.

You sit in your trailer, going over your lines for the next scene of episode 8. By this time, Spencer has become sort of a safe space for Delilah to confined in after her father's murder. You've filmed her work scenes, she works as a business woman and is trying to handle all the work loads her father left behind.

Suddenly, your trailer door bursts open and there stumbles in Matthew.

"You know knocking would be nice,” you say, looking up from the script with annoyance in your voice.

He leans over and knocks on the door.

You roll your eyes. "Doesn't work when you already barged in."

Matthew ignores your snarky remark. "Whatcha doing?"

"Going over my lines. You know, like one does before a scene."

"All my lines are up here," he taps on his head with his pointer finger.

"You say that until you mess them up at least four times a day."

"That hurts, Y/n, that hurts." Matthew holds his chest dramatically.

"What do you want, Gubler?"

"Ooh last names, someone's cranky." He plops down on the couch beside you.

"I'm not cranky, just annoyed by your presence," you shoot him a fake smile.

"Uh rude. Are you going to the dinner this weekend?" He asks, leaning on the armchair of the couch.

Well I was invited wasn't I? You want to say, but you don't. "Yeah. I'm assuming you'll be there."

"Yep. Oh and by the way, they needed you down there 5 minutes ago."

"What? Shit,” slight panic runs through your body as you stand up.

He chuckles, a smug look on his face.

"You're the worst," you throw your script at him and rush out of your trailer.

You apologize for being late, which sucks because you've been trying so hard to always be early so that you can make good impressions. This jobs means a lot to you.

After marking your scene, shooting it, and reshooting it about 3 times for other camera angles and other versions of it, you're finally done for the day.

It's only 5pm by the time you get back to your trailer to grab your things. You're already changed out of Delilah's clothes and back into Y/n's usual jeans and sweater: the lazy set clothes.

You take a cab home to your 'lovely' and stupidly expensive LA apartment. It's not horrible, but you're definitely paying too much for the amount of space you have.

After changing into pj bottoms and a plain white t shirt, you curl up on the couch and fall asleep watching reruns of Friends.

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scotianostra · 6 months

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Happy Birthday Scottish actor Gavin Mitchell born 16th December 1964 in Glasgow.

Gavin, best known for his role of Boaby, the barman from Still Game says that his parents split when he was eight and he that his mum cut dad Kenneth out of his life and remarried. Tragedy then struck when his step father died followed by the death of his dad, Kenneth, he then remembers a tough upbringing with a succession of “uncles” and one time his mother going out for a pint of milk and never came back.

Luckily Gavins brother Kenny stepped in and persuaded the authorities he would be able to look after his sibling. Five years later as a young adult Gavin spotted her in the street with one of his “uncles” and followed her to a bar, he said she did not even notice him, he ordered a drink then sat down next to her, she looked at hi and said nervously “Hiya son”

“It was weird. I wanted to know all about her but I didn’t tell her where I lived. I visited her once to check she was okay. She gave me a pound ‘for sweets’ as I left — it was as if I’d not grown up in her eyes.

He saw her once more, just before she died, ravaged by alcohol, and Gavin claims his own childhood experiences are the main reason why he’s never had kids himself.

Gavin has admitted going through bouts of depression through the years but has carved a career for himself, though admits at times it as hard as a struggling jobbing actor.

Through the years Gavin has appeared in many well known Scottish shows like Taking over the Asylum, Atletico Partick, The Baldy Man, Monarch of the Glen and of course Taggart, which he was in three times as different characters. We saw him in 2018 as Archibald Mason, a soldier in Outlaw King, apart from the final series of Still Game Gavin has appeared in the Netflix docudrama The Last Czars, in 2019, since then he was in the drama series’ Nothing to Declare, Annika and most recently the Irvine Welsh series Crime.

In July 2019 he was awarded an honorary doctor of letters by Glasgow’s Caledonian University. Although Still Game has ended he admits that for the rest of his life he will be tagged as “Prick”.

Gavin recently admitted having a wee greet during the filming of the last scene for Still Game. It was he who spoke the last lines in the show, with the lie words "Well, look who it isnae", while looking into the camera. He said having the last line felt "unusual" and "affected him more emotionally than any of the other episodes",

The actor went on to explain the circumstances....."I think it's just because I had the final words and so it was quite a weird scene.

"Normally we're all together. When we get picked up in the morning, we get picked up in a van and we travel in together and we all did scenes in the Clansman.

"But that was a really unusual morning because I was on my own.

"I got picked up in a cab, taken down. No-one else was there. Taken into make-up and they turned me into old Boaby as it were and they walked me on set and nobody would look at me.

"Everybody kinda respectfully put their heads down and wouldn't make eye contact.

"The make-up girl came to check on me, Anne Marie, and when she was checking my wig and make-up, she just gently turned me around and I could feel her putting something in my right hand.

"And I thought 'What's that?' and I looked down and it was a tissue and she just pointed at my eyes.

"I realised I was crying and I [at the time] didn't realise it. It was bizarre. I think there was just a lot of weight in that one line. You knew it was the end."

We last saw Gacin in the TV series Nightsleeper, which also starred the popular James Cosmo and the beautiful Katie Leung, with a strong Scottish cat including Sharon Rooney, Alex Ferns, Sharon Small and Lois Chimimba.

#scotland #scottish #history #actor #theatre #television #happy birthday

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hazbincalifornia · 5 months

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Hazbin Episode 1 Liveblog

In order to avoid this post getting Way Too Long, I'm going to make one post for episode one, and one for episode two!

I will say, I'm kinda sad we don't have a 'proper' theme song/intro, just the little jingle :( I do get it, but ah well.

Oh my god the commercial is even better in full.

How the fuck did he get Charlie to keep the name if it was still him???

Al's so fucking offended they're making him use a camera he made it one giant middle finger. I love it.

The voices are definitely going to take a bit of adjustment. It's probably because I've rewatched the pilot a zillion times, though.

I like how Alastor didn't even look at Angel. "Never going to happen!"

Awww, Charlie's ringtone for her dad is cute.

I DO really love Keith David as Husk right away, he suits the role perfectly.

"I like being forced!" and I love you, you weird little gremlin. Hoping for some good CNC stuff with her now, tbh. She'd be fun for it.

The flat delivery of 'crack is expensive' made me wheeze out loud.

Aaaa and here we go, full animation for Happy Day!

Why... why is the 'shoving barbed wire in your hole' guy an imp. Is that, like, his job or something. Is he just an asshole?

Ooooo, that was VAGGIE singing the 'bloodthirsty and deranged?' line? More fodder for her being a fallen angel/exterminator.

'Helluva post' for the mail. Ha.

This just made me fully realize how much the cannibal colony probably considers the post-extermination like a feast day.

Awww, the music note background is a fun touch.

Something about the fact that the 'touch my parts!' guy is a completely shapeless slug-creature instead of just keeping the dick offscreen makes it funnier.

Oh, I love Adam. The fun kind of punchable prick.

The animation seems a bit... overacted? I've noticed it all along but with Vaggie in the scene where she talks about making a new commercial especially. It sort of felt like they wanted to match the pilot's very snappy energy but weren't quite sure how, so everybody makes kind of... aimless motioning instead of moving with purpose, if it makes sense? It feels more like 'moving body parts for the sake of moving things' over 'moving with intent'. It's sort of awkward and distracting. The shifting proportions don't really help, but I just know people are going to be Fucking Annoying about that when it's unfortunately part of the package of making a whole season at once by a regular animation studio.

Oh yeah, Blake's perfect for Angel, lmao. It was more of a change than I expected from the few lines we'd gotten since they sounded more like the original, but he's got the energy.

Charlie didn't know Adam ran the angel army? That seems like the kind of thing she should have known. I wonder if she was relatively sheltered growing up.

'Call me dickmaster' why do I get the feeling the Chaz fans will like him, lmfao.

Since I'm on Adam though, another little groan to myself about the lack of fat characters in the hellaverse that aren't either gross stereotypes or background characters. Adam falls into the misogynist type, (like, the 'redditor', you know the one, just sort of mixed with a sleazy rockstar) Mammon's literally Greed and a talentless abuser, the lady at the pound was gross/uncaring and ugly, and I still think the Nurse was the only one that really broke the pattern and I've seen approximately one piece of fanart or mention of her ever (despite her clearly-developed positive relationship with Barbie!) and it was porn. I'm allowed to bitch on this after people were so fucking annoying about how wanting Bee to be fat was wanting her to be a 'gross ugly blob' and then saying other people were being fatphobic for pointing out everybody's skinny. Somehow. Anyway.

Well, at least they got the vagina joke out of the way early.

I love how his deal isn't for anything that would genuinely screw Vaggie over, he's just pissed they want him to deal with TV.

The fact that the pilot's still 'soft canon' makes sense with how Angel just immediately starts admiring his new clothes without any surprise, since it's happened before. Also, Niffty with the Marilyn pose is cute.

Oh, I'm definitely going to like Lute. I still like my idea she used to be close to Vaggie but when Vaggie was cast down, she stuck tighter to the rules.

Adam's song is fun!

So season 1 takes place over the course of six months? Huh. I'm guessing we'll have some time skips if we only have eight episodes.

I wonder what the Heaven Embassy is for? I can't imagine it's only for meetings like that considering there's couches in the lobby and stuff. Can sinners communicate with loved ones in heaven or vice versa, maybe, just using the holograms?

Oh my god the Katie voice IS basically just Brandon's Bryce voice. Amazing.

Ohoooo? VERY curious who managed to pull off killing an exterminator, and 'can't let them catch on'... hmm.

#shadow says stuff #hh spoilers #hh

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romancemedia · 9 months

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For the last few hours since watching the new episode, I've been trying to get a hold of myself, but I can't. Today's My Happy Marriage episode was by far the most intense and heart-pounding yet, especially the ending, leading to Miyo and Kiyoka's fight.

I had no idea when it was going to happen, but knew it would be soon. I tried to prepare myself for it, but in cases like this, no matter how hard you try, your simply never ready for it. It was more tense than I thought it would be.

After reading the light novel version, I tried to assure myself it was a lover's tiff, but I guess I was just using it as an excuse to soothe my worries until the scene finally came to life in the anime. This proves that a couple's first fight is always the hardest. I personally blame Arata for this mess. He manipulated the situation and set the whole thing into motion. Arata got Kiyoka so riled up by accusing him of neglecting Miyo's health and combined with stress from his job and impatience with getting Miyo to open up, it lead to Kiyoka taking out his frustrations with her. (BTW I'm on Miyo's side)

Arata is a such a snake, plotting to break them up and now I'm even more tense for next week's episode. The truth behind the Usuba family will finally be revealed and Kiyoka and Arata will have a duel to decide whether Miyo gets to stay with Kiyoka or be left in the Usaba's care. I am more than happy to wait since it's gonna take me a whole week to help me digest this latest episode before I'm ready for the next one.

#My Happy Marriage #My Thoughts #Anime #Netflix #Miyo x Kiyoka #Miyo Saimori #Kiyoka Kudo

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the-rodent-gentleman · 2 years

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The Prince of Wrath

OK, I need to get this off my chest or else I’ll go berserk.

Ever since Asmodeus showed up in episode 7 of Helluva Boss in all his sexy glory, my mind has been bursting with headcanons about the other Princes of Hell (aside from Lucifer), one in particular.

The big, bad head of Wrath himself: Satan.

Perhaps it has to do with how his app we see in that same episode implies he’s big and muscly, or how all the details we have of Wrath’s environment and residents give glimpses into his personality and values?

In any case, big thanks to the person behind this post about their own headcanons about the Big Red D himself. It really got me inspired to do some of my own cuz, oh Lord, do I!

Speaking of the aforementioned post, its ultimate conclusion is that Satan is a warmongering, bloodthirsty god-tyrant who demands maximum savagery from his subjects and revels in the spectacle of violence itself.

Honestly, given all of the context the show’s given us so far, this take makes absolute sense. I can totally see Vivziepop’s Satan being a cross between DC’s Mongul and Bleach’s Kenpachi, championing violence and bloodshed by upholding conflict while constantly on the hunt for worthy opponents himself. Any self-respecting imp would want to worship such a figure.

If I may, though, might I suggest an alternate interpretation?

A very lengthy alternate interpretation?

Appearance

First off, Satan will be jacked.

I think we can all agree on this.

Unless Vivzie pulls a MuscleBob Buffpants by giving us a Satan that’s actually a weakling (an epically hilarious thought), it’s safe to assume the Big Red D is built like a shit brickhouse.

And thicc. No joke. You’d be amazed at all the real-world art that depicts this guy with cake.

After all, he’s the king of Wrath itself which means he’d have to be sporting God knows how many pounds of raw muscle beneath his clothes as each step of his massive cloven hooves shakes the very land like an earthquake. Like Asmodeus, he would tower over his followers, his height a constant reminder of his power and authority.

As for his attire, given the Wild West/country-style aesthetics of his respective Ring, it’s safe to assume Satan will have a cowboy theme going on too, just like how Asmodeus has his whole slutty showman schtick to match the flashy lascivious clubs in Lust.

Gotta be on brand, ya know?

That said, being the leader of a such a war-driven group means he’d have to do more than dress like a simple cowboy. His looks would have to scream something that fully encapsulates him as not only a figure of worship and authority but also of chaos.

Now depicting him like a sheriff makes sense initially since that’s a position of power, except sheriffs back then only got jurisdiction over small areas - and the Ring of Wrath is assumedly anything but small. Plus again, chaos.

By that logic, making him a mayor also only works to an extent since this is a higher position, but the problem here is that it implies a certain level of detachment from the action. A big no-no for the ruler of war.

In short, neither job fully captures the feel of someone large and in charge of a land where power is the end all, be all, let alone someone who is the undisputed king of letting loose and wrecking massive shit.

Hence why I suggest a third option: gang leader.

Think about it. With all the wars and fighting Wrath’s denizens do, it makes sense to envision all of them as part of a widespread band of outlaws, further adding to the contempt towards imps like Moxxie or perhaps even Blitzo who go against the grain.

Depicting Satan this way would best capture the sense of worship offered to him by the imps, what with the sense of loyalty and all, while also sticking to the authority he has over Wrath. Plus, I can see him riding around the deserts on his own massive steed to survey his subjects to insure nobody’s getting ideas of overthrowing him (not that he wouldn’t welcome any bastards naïve enough to try).

Side note: it’d be sick if the ‘face’ we see in his exercise app turned out to be based on a mask he wears. Would really tie into his theme of putting up a tough front, which I’ll get to in a bit.

Of course, being the embodiment of a sin, Satan would have to be more akin to a gang leader god, one whose sheer strength could level an entire mountain range in seconds while his unmatchable marksmanship is the stuff of legends. A literal force of nature few would dare to question, never mind challenge.

A true undeniable king.

Except it might not be as clear-cut as that.

Backstory

One thing Helluva Boss has been consistent in is its inversion of tropes, or at least mild tweaking. Look at how Asmodeus interacts with Fizzaroli as Moxxie and Millie leave the stage in Episode 7, for example.

If we can expect hidden depths like this to be a trend for the other Sins, there’s no sure telling the kinds of nuance Vivzie and her crew could implement. After all, Hell (and Heaven for that matter) in this universe has more going on beneath the surface than appearances suggest.

And that makes sense. Lucifer, Satan, Asmodeus: all the Seven Sins were somebody else before they fell. The mere fact they’re rulers of Hell now doesn’t negate certain aspects that persisted after their descent.

Then who was Satan once upon a time? What name could he have bore before becoming the Prince of Wrath?

Though the answers differ wildly across sources, one grips my imagination the hardest (mostly due to me having a certain game series on the brain).

Satanael.

God’s former enforcer and executioner. An angel of justice and fairness and, most importantly, divine retribution. The one who rebelled against a false God (perhaps an angel other than Lucifer hoping to overthrow the true Supreme Being) on behalf of humanity’s freedom.

Only for humanity to disregard said freedom in favor of blissful ignorance and mindless content, leaving the one who championed them not only disillusioned but embittered. Deeply so.

So much in fact that while he never fully lost his sense of justice after falling, he had done a complete full-reverse in his mentality regarding it, going from Right Makes Might to Might Makes Right.

In other words, you can only achieve the justice you seek as long as you have the power to do so. Otherwise, you best as hell either get out of dodge or brace yourself to get trampled.

Given the culture of the Wrath Ring, said ‘power’ is commonly taken to mean ‘physical strength’, although if Moxxie and Blitzo are any indication, imps have been exploring other avenues of strength as well (though perhaps not always with justice in mind necessarily).

Again, fitting with the Wild West theme since a good number of gunslingers in history originally came from law-abiding backgrounds while others tried to go the straight and narrow after leaving behind their criminal lifestyle - to no avail of course.

On the topic of law-abiding, someone that powerful and with experience in law enforcement would be indispensable to Lucifer as the big boss himself would need some way to maintain control over all of Hell, let alone defend it. Perhaps a second-in-command?

Which would strike me as odd considering someone like Satan would wind up ruling over imps, who rank at the absolute bottom of Hell’s hierarchy alongside hellhounds. On the one hand, you could argue this works just fine for the big guy as he has a perfectly dispensable army at his disposal.

If he couldn’t care less about his imps.

But - and humor me on this - what if he did?

If so, then surely he’d do more to better imps’ social status in Hell (even if only for the sake of his own pride), except that would entail invoking a total rehash of the hierarchy, which would require him to defy not just Lucifer who stands at the very top but the other Princes as well.

And he can’t risk depriving imps of their idol if he were to die in the attempt, let alone worsening their already god-awful reputation. After all, history would simply see a rebellion led by him as a grab for power, nothing more.

Then it hits him: who needs power most?

The weak, the feeble, the downtrodden and frustrated. The ones constantly put down for no reason other than enforcement of the social quo.

Because that’s how change and justice mean something in the first place, by starting from the bottom up. By imps along with any low-level demons who may follow rising up and putting pressure on or even uprooting the higher-ups to enact proper change.

And how do they achieve this? With the proper resources and connections, with the right tools and information. Perhaps even from some secret allies, one which happens to be a certain devil.

Yeah, the big bad Satan himself backing an imp rebellion from behind the scenes.

After all, what’s better than seeing your followers achieve their own justice? (Unless they’re like, say, Striker who’s only in it for his own personal gain. In fact, it’d interesting to discover Satan would find such a motivation disgusting.)

Personality:

As for his actual character, while we’ve already covered most of his general beliefs, there’s still plenty to extrapolate about him.

Being the Prince of Wrath in conjunction with his possible backstory, it’d be natural to assume he’s masculinity incarnate, boasting an air of swaggering confidence and dominance wherever he goes.

By that same token, he would take immense pride in his physical prowess, hence why he goes great lengths to maintain his chiseled physique, not only in strength but also in stamina, flexibility, and other bodily attributes.

In short, he’s a gym rat. A very, very big gym rat.

Furthermore, as he’s head of Hell’s military forces, he also takes care in maintaining his combat capabilities, including marksmanship and hand-to-hand combat. This way he’s always ready for a scrap, no matter the scale or opponent.

As a result, while he could come off as arrogant and aloof (and for good reason), Satan is actually very vigilant and dedicated to his job, a job so important to Hell’s stability that he imposes high (albeit somewhat narrow-minded) standards on not only himself but also his imps and to an extent others in terms of battlefield performance.

To that end, he highly values self-sufficiency as much as he does loyalty and obedience as he can’t be around to baby every single person. He’s a ruler and a commander, not a babysitter. This can also make him very unforgiving to anyone he deems a failure or weakling since, again, he has no time to coddle fools who refuse to grow spines.

Just because he might care about his imps doesn’t mean he won’t show them tough love.

On the other hand, if you are someone who succeeds in meeting his standards, expect nothing short of the utmost respect. For an imp, it’d be like finally getting the approval of a super-strict and highly accomplished father...except now they would have the immense pressure of keeping their self worthy of said approval. Yikes.

If you’re someone who can actually match him in skill and power, however, that’s when things get truly interesting.

While the canon could depict him as a scoundrel who will do anything to win, it’d be interesting if it showed him having a twisted code of honor instead. Going back to my theorized backstory for him, for Satan it’s not enough to merely win. You have to win for the sake of your ideals, prove you have what it takes to see your beliefs through no matter who stands in your way.

Perhaps in a way this could be how he secretly assures to himself that his former angelic self might have been right all along, that standing up for others isn’t weak or foolish.

That said, he could still be a massive dick. For one, he’d be above asking anyone for help because why would he, the Sin directly behind Lucifer in terms of power and authority, ever need someone’s help? He’s the one people rely on, not the other way around!

Same with showing emotion - or rather any emotion that isn’t some degree of rage, hate, joy from combat, or even just casual grumpiness. In fact, if he were to have neuroses similar to what I’ve been listing, he’d likely have a complex about seeming weak or needy, perhaps even resorting to cruel quips if he so much as thinks someone suspects those of him.

At least out in public. Behind closed doors, he could turn out to be an absolute teddy bear who has all sorts of ‘feminine’ hobbies like gardening and knitting that he wouldn’t dare reveal to anyone he isn’t close to.

Plus, he could be utterly touch-deprived and desperate for even the smallest drop of affection since being the Ruler of Wrath doesn’t seem like the kind of position where you can afford to come off as mushy.

In fact, it’d be interesting if Asmodeus weren’t the only one with a secret little relationship on the side for this very reason.

Relationships:

Speaking of relationships, it’d be both hilarious and highly ironic if Satan, the embodiment of Wrath itself, were the voice of reason among the Seven Sins.

I mean Lucifer would have to keep someone so powerful close by for more than one reason, and anyone in charge of the military forces for Hell has to be able to keep a cool head. Somebody capable of both sheer strength and complex strategy is far more intimidating than a mere brute, after all.

Granted, we may not know the personalities of the other rulers yet but if Ozzie is any indication, we can expect them to be a colorful bunch, so it’d make sense for at least somebody among them to be the levelheaded one. Honestly, I could easily see such a Satan often having to reign in the antics of Asmodeus - and possibly Leviathan too if the theatre mask app is any indication (dramatic ass sea monster king when, Vivzie?).

Basically this GIF in a nutshell.

Now while I’ve already gone in depth about how Satan might be towards his imps, it’s still worth noting that he did not deign to show up during the Harvest Moon Festival in Episode 5. Perhaps he thinks himself too above such an event or maybe he has too much on his plate to waste the time - maybe both.

In any case, there could be some level of affection Satan holds for his imps but at the end of the day he is still their leader and them his followers.

That said, I feel if he did care about his people, he might in turn have some level of contempt towards Sinners since even they rank higher than imps and hellborn in general on Hell’s hierarchy.

As for how he could view Heaven and its denizens, the Archangels in particular, well that would be plunging deep into headcanon territory (well deeper) and this post is long enough as is, so I think I’ll wrap things up right here.

Thanks for reading!

#satan #helluva boss satan #hazbin hotel satan #wrath ring #prince of wrath #theory #analysis #No this wasn't me trying to flesh out my version of Satan #what do you mean?#long post

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masterwords · 2 years

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a life spills into the flowers

Summary: After the events of "Mr. Scratch", Hotch can't find his keys. It's got him a little messed up.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan (established, and it's only relevant at the very end because I live in a world where they're just together and that's that.)

Warnings: mind-controlling substances, panic, vomit, swearing, canon-typical stuff...if you've seen the Mr. Scratch episode you won't be surprised

Words: 2.5k

Notes: I don't know...I was going to save this for Whumptober or something but it's rambly and I sort of just wanted to post it now. I started thinking about how Peter Lewis took Hotch's weapons and he took his vest off, and Hotch was in that house for a long time semi-conscious...so of course his car keys would be missing and that might make him panic a bit. Anyway, I wrote this all in about an hour, it's just a rambly thing because I can't seem to write anything decent lately but I needed to do something with this idea.

Read on AO3: a life spills into the flowers

On knees that wobble like jello he wanders toward the house. Wind is whipping through the trees, whistling strange hymns through well-maintained gutters and over the silken petals of bright pink roses. He is acutely aware of each breath of wind as it gusts over his sweaty brow, each fleck of red and blue light that flickers and screams silent fury into the night sky.

“I need to find my keys,” he mumbles to JJ who is following, hasn't stopped following him since he stepped out of the ambulance with a headache that pounds like a jackhammer with each throb of his pulse. She's right on his heels.

“We can have it towed, Hotch, figure it out in the morning. You need to get home.”

He won't listen, though. Everything is so out of control, the entire scene his fault, and the only thing he can grasp with any firmness is this: his SUV keys are missing. On the front seat, all of his papers have been rifled through, his wallet is right there with his ID front and center, and he's in no frame of mind to take inventory though he's fairly certain nothing is missing. Peter Lewis wouldn't take anything, he would simply record it. Write it down, take a photo, doesn't matter. If he took it, they would know and have a lead, have an idea. This way...there is no way to track what isn't gone.

Except his damn keys. “Maybe Peter Lewis had them,” she says, speeding up to keep pace with his wobbly off-kilter stumbling through the yard and up to the front door. “Hotch, I'll call Derek and see if they find your keys on Lewis when they book him.”

He doesn't respond and she doesn't wait for it, she just makes the call while he enters the house. It's almost the same now as it was when he did it the first time, except he's not holding his gun now, his fists hang at his sides useless and trembling. Reid and Rossi have already gone back to Quantico, Morgan went with the Police as they took Lewis into custody, and JJ...well she said she'd drive Hotch home, but now they're stuck with no keys to the SUV. She's not nearly as concerned as he is.

“Hotch,” she called a minute later while he's arguing with an officer about looking under Dr. Regan's desk. That's where his gun had been, one of them anyway, after the fight and he suspects maybe the keys...

“Hotch, Will said he'd come pick us up. Come on. Let the officers do their jobs. They'll find the keys.”

His eyes are frantic and filled with tears, she can't stand seeing him this way. There is some part of her that wants to pull him in for a hug, tell him she'll help him find the keys because she knows...it isn't really about the keys. He's coming down from whatever drugs he was pumped full of and every bit of reality that seeps in brings more pain and more questions than answers. He was vulnerable for hours, at the mercy of a psychopath, and he has no real memory of it. She can see it all in the tears, but if she gives in now she might do more harm than good. “Come on,” she said, touching his forearm, his sweaty bloody shirt. “Let's go sit outside and wait for Will.”

It's going to be an hour, at least. Even if Will puts on his lights. “You want to walk?” It's a silly question to ask a man who looks like he's barely standing, but he doesn't look like he wants to sit down either. “There's a path through the estate over here. Guess this place has a nice rose garden.” He doesn't answer, he just follows her.

The roses almost glow under the moonlight. He knows they're pink, but they're more than that. They're breathing pulpy red and they're crying neon blue and they're bruise purple, all the same colors as he is. And then those deep green leaves cascade black like pools of blood in the moonlight. He can't stop thinking about his keys. No matter what path his mind tries to take him down it never winds far enough away from that one thought. Where are my keys? The keys mean freedom, they mean home. Without them he's trapped here.

JJ knows she should use this opportunity to ask him questions and she has the time. It feels wrong, the way his skin is pale and gray and sweaty, the way his hands shake, to put him through more but he would insist if it were anyone else. Insist that now was the time. When clarity was seeping in, when adrenaline was fading. “I know you talked to Rossi in the ambulance,” she started, pausing to peer into a wide open rose. “Is there anything else you can remember? Do you want to talk?”

“No,” he whispered back, his legs coming to a full stop. He blinks back the tears and rubs his fingers against his burning eyes. Whatever Lewis sprayed him with made his eyes hurt, they were dry and burned like fire beneath salty tears. “I don't know. JJ, I don't know if anything I say is true.”

“Let me figure that out. Why don't you just tell me things. Anything you want. Empty it out.”

He lets out a chuckle and wipes more tears from his lashes. “It's funny. The way they described it in the interrogation room...it sounded like Lewis put the ideas in their heads. But that isn't...it's not...they were all my ideas. I think he just asked me questions knowing I couldn't lie to him.”

She couldn't hide her frown. “What do you mean he asked you things?”

“Like,” he stares vaguely into some distance but he isn't looking at anything she can see. His trembling hand reaches up and wipes the sweat from his forehead. “A therapist. He asked me about my life. He asked me if anything...” he can't finish the sentence. He can't tell JJ about Roy, but that's new, he couldn't remember that when he was talking to Rossi. Lewis asked him about recent problems he's been having. “Any problems at home?” It was so casual, like he had a right to know.

He told Lewis all about Roy and his dementia. He told him about the things that Roy said, and suddenly Roy was standing there in front of him with a gun aimed at his forehead. You took my baby girl from me. I gave her to you, and you promised to protect her and you lied. Roy's gun was cold against his forehead, smashed there, he could feel it. You killed her.

“He didn't make me see things. I did that. He just listened.” The revelation comes with wide eyes sparkling in the night. “He guided me through the images.” Before he can say anything else, he feels the cold of that gun again and drops to his knees, dry heaving painfully into the perfectly manicured grass. JJ stays back, she wants to touch him, to comfort him, but he's trembling like a scared animal and she isn't sure she can trust him yet.

He's not himself.

“Can you tell me what you told him?”

“No.” He can, but he won't. “It doesn't matter. He's in custody,” he gasps around wretches and pulls himself up to sitting, hands planted flat against his thighs. “I didn't hurt anyone. His plan didn't work.” He's not so sure about that, but he needs JJ to believe it. He needs her to stop asking questions. You don't know what I did to him...I win. She can't let that go, can't stop thinking about it. It was what made her stay behind with him, why Derek asked that it be her...they didn't want to tell anyone else what Lewis said or how it had scared them.

He thinks about Roy and the gun, about what Roy said to him over pizza just nights before and what the ghost of Roy told him with a gun to his head. Roy's eyes, so full of fury and hate, and he's not surprised to find that he wishes it hadn't just been a mirage. If that gun had been real, if Roy had the nerve to do what he wanted to do...

Derek walks up behind them and places his hand on Hotch's back, right between his shoulder blades, startling them both. “Hey,” he says, crouching. “Found your keys. They were in the bag with his personal belongings. Swears he has no idea how they got there. Dude's a lying sack of shit. You ready to get outta here?”

JJ looks at Derek warily and makes a face, a sort of back off he's being a little weird face, and Derek drags his hand up and down the ridges of Hotch's spine in defiance. He's not worried, he's pretty sure he could take Hotch in his prime and this is definitely not his prime. “Jessica said she'd stay with Jack tonight, Will just pulled up to get JJ...come on. You're stuck with me.”

They ride home in silence. It's a long ride with only the purr of the engine and the roar of the tires turning over slick rainy asphalt. Hotch rests his temple against the cool glass window, lets his eyes close and sees Roy who becomes Sean in a faded blue jumper blaming him for not getting him out of his charges, getting his sentence reduced. I'll die in here and it'll be your fault, Sean said to him and it freezes his veins to ice. My best years behind bars because you care more about your job than my life. My brother's a FED, you know what they're gonna do to me? Sean wouldn't say that, it's only his guilty conscience, he knows that. Probably why that one faded so quickly, even Peter Lewis could see through it. But Roy, that one stuck. That one came back, and when Roy became Jack but the words were the same...you killed her, it's your fault she's dead...he figured it out. That was when he realized how in control of these visions he was, even under the influence. He'd allowed Roy, but he wouldn't allow Jack to be part of the game.

“I forced myself to see you guys,” he whispers, his lips barely moving. His stomach flops, and he thinks he's going to be sick again. “When I realized what he was doing. I knew what he wanted...and I thought about the victim who killed himself instead of his child...and I...” Made myself see you guys? See you all be killed one by one? It sounds awful, and he's not sure how to say it so that it sounds any less terrible than it is. But he watched that bullet sink right into Derek's throat, tasted his blood, he saw it all and couldn't shake it.

“I knew it,” came Derek's reply, one hand fluttering like raven wings away from the steering wheel and coming to roost on Hotch's thigh. “I knew you figured it out. Rossi's story, it didn't make any sense. Why would us dying be your worst fear? Your deepest fear? Nah, I knew there was more to it...”

“I am afraid of that,” Hotch counters, quieter, almost too quiet for Derek to hear over the white noise of the car. Defensive and breathy. Still hovering so close to tears. “I'm always afraid that I'll make a mistake and it'll cost one of you your lives. It wouldn't be the first time. Roy said it himself. I make a mistake, people die. It was an easy fear to conjure...”

“Yeah, but,” Derek starts, but he's well aware that he's treading in dangerous waters and he stops. He squeezes Hotch's thigh instead. “I get it.” He does. He does get it, he'll never stop blaming himself for what happened to Haley. It was on his watch, not Hotch's, no matter what anyone tries to tell him. They don't talk about it.

Derek's street is dark, the lamps pale and muddled by overgrown oak trees. It's quiet, serene, none of the city sounds dare step into this peace. The shadows melt and move and shift beneath his feet and Hotch is mesmerized as his shadow slides like oil slick into the shadow of a tree and for a brief moment they are one. “You hungry?” Derek asks in a casual tone, as if this is a social call. As if it's date night. “I'm starving.”

He's not sure if he's hungry or if he could eat, he just follows Derek up the steps to his door and slides inside with uneasy steps. Clooney meets them at the door and Hotch crouches right away, just drops to his knees and wraps his arms around Clooney's neck and scratches behind his floppy old dog ears. There are tears in Clooney's fur, it sticks to his cheeks. Clooney moves slow these days, he's old and arthritic but he still likes to trot along beside Derek every morning before they eat breakfast, he still makes sure to greet Derek every time he comes home with his tail whacking the wood floor loud and thumpy. Hotch and Clooney's relationship is something Derek hasn't ever really understood but he leaves them to it and heads right for the kitchen. They know what they're doing. So does he.

He needs a beer and some food. When he's finished slapping together a quick sandwich and popping the top off of his second bottle of beer (the first went down a little too easy after the day he had), he makes his way out to the front room to find Hotch and Clooney sleeping on the couch. Hotch, still in his clothes, arms folded tight across his chest and hands tucked in tight. His feet still in shoes hang off the end of the couch (always polite), and Clooney snores curled up behind his knees.

It's a sight. One he's still not tired of, even after all this time.

He turns on the TV and kicks his feet up on the coffee table, eating his midnight dinner all alone to the quiet jokes and explosions of M*A*S*H

“Life, liberty and the pursuit of happy hour...” Derek says under his breath, raising his bottle to the television. He knows the quiet of this moment isn't likely to last, but the frosty foam of the beer in his bottle is worth savoring.

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jennifer jj jareau #criminal minds #hotchgan #criminal minds fanfiction #clooney the dog #is clooney hotch's therapy dog? yeah maybe

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dragonmuse · 2 years

Note

Currently down with covid, would love a refusing to acknowledge he’s sick izzy

(oh no! Hope you feel better soon. Have some goblin, doing his goblin best)

“You look like shit,” Jim informed him when he walked in the door.

“Thanks,” he took off his coat. “You look like you were rejected as an extra from a Mission Impossible knock off. Now that we’ve insulted each other can we start the morning?”

Jim, who was in all back and look very dapper with it, flipped him off. “No, seriously. Did you not sleep or something?”

“Or something,” he turned on the coffee maker. One cup was not going to do it. He’d woken up achy and irritable. Too much time in the sun yesterday. “What’s on your docket today?”

“I’ve got to run down Eloise, she said she had a tip for the missing niece thing that you got in last week. Then it’s follow the sleazeball insurance fraud dude around for the afternoon. What are you doing?”

“Got a new client to meet.” He woke up his computer. “Paperwork after that.”

“I’ll stop in before I get off the clock,” Jim got to their feet, reaching for their hat and coat. “Update you.”

“You can call it in. Doubt Eloise has that hot a tip.”

“We’ll see.”

They left and Izzy allowed himself to drop his head into his hands for a brief moment. His head was pounding, the advil he’d taken barely touching it. Since the concussion, he got headaches more often. He’d dutifully spoke with his doctor about it, but it was apparently not frequent enough to be alarming.

He drank his coffee looking out the window, resting his eyes from the screen. When the client arrived, Izzy mostly listened. They usually wanted that anyway. Funny how he and Lucius’ jobs dovetailed like that sometimes. More than once, Izzy had taken a consult and they walked away without hiring him, but obviously over whatever impulse and brought them in to begin with.

By the time they left, he had started reaching for tissues.

At lunch, Lucius called him, “Hey, goblin, sorry to bother you at work.”

“No, you’re not,” Izzy smiled at his computer screen.

“No, I’m not,” Lucius agreed. “Anyway, I heard about this gallery showing across town, do you want to go tomorrow instead of doing a movie? I think you’ll like it, it’s mixed media.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Not like that Deniro film is going anywhere.”

“...why do you sound like you’re holding your nose? Are you in the sewers again?”

“No,” he frowned and reached for the tissue box again. “Head’s just at it again.”

“Damn,” Lucius said softly. “Can you go home early? You know all the light is just going to make it worse.”

“Got things to do."

“If it gets worse, go home.” And that was a tone that brooked no argument.

“Yes, pup.”

It didn’t get worse. It didn’t get better either. He could technically stay, but he figured that was obeying the letter of the law, not the spirit which Lucius usually had some pointed words about. When he’d squared away enough of the paperwork that it wouldn’t bury him, he texted Jim that he was headed out.

Jim: Good. Eloise didn’t know shit.

Izzy: She never does.

Jim: She’ll come through one day.

Izzy doubted it. He’d gotten a feel for the people that they paid for tips and scouting. Some of them were reliable as clockwork and others excellent at inventions to keep money flowing. He didn’t cut off any of them. It was probably ass backwards, but it felt like a way he could help. Like the kid that hung out in front of the convenience store. Useful that one and clearly hungry. He should run a background check on them, see if they could be of more use.

Sweeney greeted him when got home, winding around his legs with his broken meows. Izzy knelt down to pick up, carrying him through the apartment with the rusty purr as an accompaniment. The bed looked tempting, but he wasn’t quite ready to admit defeat. The couch was a decent compromise, so he got off his shoes and lay down on it, turning the tv on low. There was always a Law and Order episode somewhere and that usually bored him into a nap.

“Meh,” Sweeney informed him, before curling up by his chest to flick him in the face with his tail.

“Brat,” he said amused and drifted off before they could interview the first lead.

When he woke, the headache had mostly retreated, but somehow he felt worse which seemed unfair. He staggered up, got Sweeney’s dinner ready and then stared into the fridge for his own. Nothing looked appetizing.

Lucius arrived just as Izzy was throwing toast into the toaster.

“Hey, pup,” he glanced up. “How was the day?”

“Aggressively fine. Boring,” Lucius slid an arm around his waist, dropped a kiss to the back of his neck. “Toast?”

“Want me to heat you up something?”

“I ate and no. Absolutely not, you sound like fucking garbage,” Lucius turned him in his arms which made his head swim a little. Huh. “Wow. You look spectacular too.”

“Feel fine,” he mumbled, but Lucius ignored that, pressing his lips to Izzy’s forehead.

“Fun, you’re feverish.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Lucius corrected. “You can’t actually safeword out of being sick.”

“I’m not sick. Just had a headache or something.”

“Heavy on the ‘or something’,” Lucius huffed. “You’re going to eat toast and go to bed.”

That actually sounded really good. He got his toast and ate it while Lucius told him about the gallery show. It did sound interesting, even if holding thoughts in his head was getting a little slippery.

“I think I’ve got the flu,” he admitted.

“Yeah, no shit,” Lucius raised his eyebrows.

“Probably shouldn’t sleep here tonight. Don’t want you to get it too.”

“Uh huh. Might sleep on the sofa, but you’re not getting me out of the apartment.”

“But-”

“Not buts, thanks so much. Dishes in the sink and all good little ex-felons go off to bed.”

“You’re only a felon if you get caught.”

Izzy took a shower first which only loosened everything up and had him coughing in a very disgusting way, but he did feel a little better after. He crawled into bed with a grunt and despite already napping the afternoon away, already felt heavy with sleep. Lucius drifted in and sighed at the sight of him.

“At least you came home from work,” he conceded and reached down to run a hand over Izzy’s hair. “Thanks for that.”

“S’ok,” Izzy muttered.

“It’s not,” Lucius tugged at one lock a little. “You’ve got to take better care of yourself. I’m serious, goblin.”

“Trying,” he sighed.

“Try harder. I know what I signed up for, but I’m not letting go of you a day earlier than I absolutely have to. Understood?”

“Yeah,” he turned over to face him, taking in the worry written into his face. “I understand. Sorry, pup.”

“God, you sound awful, go to sleep and stop talking germs at me.”

Izzy didn’t argue. Lucius must’ve been good to his word and slept on the pullout, but when Izzy stumbled into the kitchen, there was already a hot cup of theraflu waiting for him. He drank it slowly under Lucius’ scrutiny and then let himself be bullied back into bed.

“I’m working from here today,” Lucius informed him curtly. “And I already told Jim you’re not coming. Sit. Stay.”

“Yes, pup.” He settled against the headboard and watched as Lucius fussed around the bedroom then finally flopped at Izzy’s feet on the bed.

“You know what? I have you at my mercy. We’re watching Pretty Little Liars.”

“Why?” Izzy groaned.

“It’s perfect sick tv, you’ll see. Get comfortable, I’m going to get the laptop.”

There were worse ways to spend a morning, Izzy decided, then drowsing to an incomprehensible plot while Lucius talked over scenes to explain plot points. And maybe he would look at the Wikipedia entry later, just to try to figure out what the hell was happening. Hold some of that in reserve and then when Lucius was least expecting, refer to some obscure plot point. That’d be fun.

#leda house and the kraken verse #goblin king and the pup

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adultswim2021 · 9 months

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Tim And Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! #23: “Rascals” | August 11, 2008 - 12:30AM | S03E03

It is unseasonably chilly tonight and I would like to take a nice warm bath. So, let’s “gansta” through this write-up so I can become nude and wet at once. First we have a Patton Oswalt cold open that is not very good. I tend to forgive the star-studded duds like this one, because when Tim & Eric get a bigger-name comedian to participate in the show they’re sorta obligated to use the results no matter what. This one has Patton’s head superimposed onto a child’s body while he sings a song about suckin’ on some titties. This could be a sketch on Comedy Central’s The Man Show. No big deal, but it’s a bad start. Luckily this is maybe the weakest part of the episode. I will shout out the accidental production values of having this effect run through a VCR. The special effect actually looks a little more natural thanks to being masked by VHS noise.

Oh, wait, there’s maybe a weaker bit: Tim and Eric are two old-school dipshits who are doing “swing dancing” demonstrations that are basically just them horsing around. I don’t mind these as much, because i think they were designed to be quick throw-aways. None of them really capture brilliance, but they are at least a little bit fun. They included an extra one in the deleted scenes on the DVD, and they needn’t have bothered!

Fitting into the Tim & Eric universe a little better is Ed Begly Jr. as the spokesman for the Cinco-Fone, an obtuse cellular phone that doesn’t work very well, that’s the joke. It has convoluted instructions and anti-selling points, like how there’s only one button that you have to tap rapidly the number of times for each number you’re trying to dial. It also runs hot, and can give you “up to 2nd degree burns”. This type of sketch is fairly route at this point, but it’s still solid stuff as far as Tim & Eric goes.

The final Cinco-Fone segment is Ed Begly Jr. improving a phone call on it, as though the cameras are off, and him having logistical troubles with the fact that the phone’s battery only lasts for one call, and it can’t receive incoming calls. It’s a little needless; sorta telegraphs the joke in an unnecessary way, but I chalk it up to “what’re you gonna put less Ed Begly Jr. in the show”? Though, it did bring to mind Tom Scharpling, famous hater of Christopher Guest movies, complaining on the radio that he doesn’t need to see “Ed Begly Jr.’s improv chops”.

Tairy Greene returns as an acting coach for children. Zach Galifianakis is funny, and can very easily spin gold out of nothing. There’s good moments in these bits, like when he kicks down a fern (a FERN! INTERESTING…) and tells the kids to write that down. His opening soundbite of “Who (pregnant pause) ba-stank.” is also funny. There’s an amusing blooper where he asks one of the children who Hoobastank is, and they answer matter-of-factly that they taught the “greatest acting class known to man” and Zach cracks. This one sorta goes on longer than it should, but it’s nice to see Zach. I like him!

The hosting wraparound for this one involves a conflict between Tim & Eric, mediated by Bob Odenkirk himself. Tim killed Eric’s rascal after receiving a nasty bite from him. Bob decides that since Tim killed Eric’s best friend, that Eric gets to kill Tim’s best friend. One funny touch to this is that there’s zero hesitation from Eric, who is immediately giddy at the prospect of getting to commit murder. Tim reveals that Eric himself is Tim’s best friend, but Eric doubles down and agrees to commit suicide. The ending features Bob dressed as a Rascal, righting the season one wrong of having Tim & Eric play opposite an invisible rascal. In that episode’s commentary track, Tim recounts a story that Bob tried to talk them out of the invisible rascal gag. Perhaps Bob just really wanted to play the rascal.

The introductory Rascal segment is very funny; it features Jon Mugar and DJ Dougg Pound (I am guessing; I watched this on a small screen) playing Eric and Tim respectively in the rascal bite re-enactment. This segment ends with Bob invisoing in to help Tim & Eric resolve their differences and doing a cheesy take to the camera, and for no really good reason they animate a inflating bullfrog neck on him and add a ribbit noise. It’s monumentally stupid, but it’s very funny. I forgot all about it until this watch! What a treat!

Overall, this is a pretty average episode of the show and holds up with the rest of their pretty average episodes from season one and two. Despite a few weak spots, I’d call this a good one.

EPHEMERA CORNER:

Deleted Cold Open for "The Family That Slays Together, Stays Together"

I'm not positive when exactly this debuted, but one thing is clear, please, watch this before watching "The Family That Slays Together, Stays Together". This is a fully-animated deleted scene from the first part of the two-part finale, meant to air as a cold open. I remember Adult Swim put it online as a teaser for the upcoming episode and promised to put it on the DVD. They didn't! They fucking forgot to put it on the DVD!

But, luckily, they included it on the season four DVD, which is nice. I like when stuff like that happens.

MAIL BAG:

Boogie, Baby Boogie may be ones of the best episodes of television of all time. Let me break down why here "Boogie Baby Boogie stands out as the pinnacle episode of Fat Guy Stuck on the Internet. Its uproarious humor, clever writing, and charismatic performances make it an unforgettable comedic masterpiece. A must-watch!"

YOU SAID IT BROTHERS!

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #tim and eric awesome show great job

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klcthebookworm · 1 year

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WIP Wednesday

My current writing in progress is a Trigun crossover fanfic based on the first anime series. My story really diverges in the episode "Escape From Pain" and that's where it starts. What I'm crossing it over with will come up in the next WIP Wednesday post.

Desire hadn’t hit him this strong in a hundred years. He wanted her strong thighs squeezing his hips as he buried himself in her. He wanted to lick the sweat off her pale skin and hear her moan his name as loud as she yelled it when she thought he had done something wrong. He wasn’t about to mention it to either of them, no act on it. Meryl would start hitting him again and she finally quit doing that.

But why her? Milly was closer to the physical type he found beautiful in women before, even though she hid her assets under her coat with her stun-bolt gun. But no, ever since the caravan stalled, it was Meryl’s presence that made his heart pound like he had jumped into the flying ship’s lift, made him want to tip her into his arms and explore her mouth with his.

She would slap his face off.

Nope, nope, nope. And he wasn’t a Steve to demand it from anyone. So the best thing to do was to nap behind his sunshades in their caravan trailer or in this mess tent that wasn’t being used by anyone else until the caravan moved again. Once they were moving, his equilibrium would come back and Meryl would just be annoying short insurance girl again. It had to. He had more patience than anyone on this dustball planet; he could wait for this to pass.

Then the owner of the caravan sent men to bring Vash the Stampede to him for a job proposal. So that plan (the very good plan that wouldn’t get him yelled at or hit) was ruined because Fondrique tatooed their security pass on the arm of a kid and that kid decided to bail on whole dirty trade and his father met the twenty million double dollar price tag Vash put on jobs he really didn’t want to do. He probably needed to raise that rate.

He climbed behind the wheel of a provided jeep, surrounded by the caravan’s crew, and Meryl jumped in before he could take off and leave her out of this. “What did that man ask you to do? It’s nothing nasty, I hope.”

The crew must have done an excellent job of keeping her out of earshot. He put his entire focus on driving and not manhandling the woman sitting next to him. When had she put on a sweet perfume?

“Hey, why don’t you say anything?”

And this is when the tall one would be handy as a distraction, but Milly wandered off hours ago. Vash kept his mouth shut because he wasn’t sure what would fall out of it right now.

“When are you going to stop this thing and say something?” Meryl reached for the ignition switch. Did she want to wreck them? Vash pushed her away from it and back in her seat. Now Meryl’s angry started coming out. “Alright then, you talk to me!”

The caravan crew following them was far enough away to not overhear. “He wanted a kill.”

Meryl blinked at him. “A kill?”

“That’s right.”

“And you accepted?”

“Yes.” There, she had answers. Now she would sit there and mull on what Vash the Stampede would do to her if he got money for it or truly pissed off. And he could find the kids without wrecking.

Her voice went haughty. “You’re nothing but a despicable outlaw just like I thought. Very well, if that’s the case, I have no choice but to execute risk prevention procedure.” She pulled out one of her many derringers and aimed it at his temple. Practically a point-blank shot at this distance.

You know, after a month of them looking for him with Vash trying to avoid them and three months of them stalking him, he really should have asked them what the hell their insurance society bosses considered risk prevention. She wasn’t going to shoot; he felt her indecision as what he just said argued with her observations of him. So he just kept driving.

She pulled her gun back with a huff. “Would you mind at least explaining why you decided to do this?”

“He loves his son more than his profits,” Vash said. “To give the boy he raised the freedom the boy wants will destroy the caravan. No big loss really, but everyone else who earns a profit on Fondrique’s slave trade won’t let the boy go and will chase him down to get their slaves into Fondrique.”

“So the boy has to die,” Meryl said.

“For the audience. And if the audience believes, the caravan owner can keep it going to the other stops on the route.”

“I don’t understand how Fondrique can have a slave trade. Slavery is illegal.”

“In the Seven Cities, sure. If the Federation Cavalry catches them, sure. But you’re in the Outer now.”

“The Six Cities,” Meryl corrected softly.

It was just the six for her whole life. Vash pushed on from that. “Right. Are you helping?”

#trigun #my fic #three of a kind #wip #wip wednesday

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nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 2 years

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Tell me a story about Admiral Craymen feeling dizzy.

In a room full of windows.

They could have called it a hotel room, since the Admiral himself has stayed at it for many years, but in this respect it is more like a barracks room. It is small and sparsely furnished, and if the Admiral himself had chosen it, he probably would have chosen it instead. He is not very curious by nature, but he is not very uncurious either.

His own room is in the Pentagon, of course. He has never really enjoyed Washington at all, never been to it more than once or twice, so it is a little out of character to be staying here. But it was not his decision. He is the highest-ranking military officer who will be participating in the operation against the Sphere. The Sphere has been doing a lot of dangerous things in space, and he can't afford to think about it too much. He could, of course. He is only thirty-seven, after all.

He should be thinking about space, and all the other important things about space. Instead, he is here, in a small, crowded room with windows looking out at the White House, watching TV. He is watching All in the Family with the other officers.

The show is very dumb. It is aimed at conservative parents with conservative, and often sexist, beliefs. It is full of bickering. The bickering is played straight, but the characters all play their roles with a great deal of self-conscious awkwardness, and one gets a wonderful sense that they think this sort of thing is an important show. They are all worried about something, but it is never clear what their worries are. Some are worried about getting caught in compromising situations or being thought a homosexual. Some are worried about the fact that, once again, they are doing something that has not really been thought through. It is all very awkward and silly and not at all funny, the sort of thing one might see on a daytime talk show.

The Admiral likes sitcoms. He likes them a lot. But he does not find them funny, at all.

"This episode is so... banal," he tells someone. He is not sure who is meant. Someone is behind him.

"Oh, that is right," the person says, and then walks off.

The Admiral gets up, and he feels dizzy.

He puts his hand on the door, and he has the feeling that if he were to keep it there long enough, he would fall to the floor. He takes a few steps away from the door, and the feeling does not go away. He can keep his hand on the doorknob though, for a few more steps, if he wants.

He wants not to. He closes his eyes, and he takes a step back.

He can feel his heart pounding. Is this what that was like, when he was getting orders from his superiors and doing the things they said, when he knew he was going off to face God knows what? He supposes so.

He opened his eyes to make a joke, that was all. But his eyes are not focused. They are very wide, very unfocused. He can see the windows, and beyond them the White House itself, and everything seems like an odd mirage. The whole thing is like a television that has run for a long time without being touched, like an image that is not being refreshed. The buildings, the trees and sky, look unreal.

He walks over to the only other chair in the room, a cheap, black plastic-and-leather job, and he sits down.

The room is dark. The lights are on, but they are not being used. The lights, like the everything else, look like something he would see on an old TV.

The room is very quiet. There are no noises, not like TV noises, not like any other kind of noises.

The room is cold. The air conditioner does not seem to be working at all, but, like the other things, it seems to have its own life, independent of the Admiral's. The windows are open. The curtains, though, are drawn.

For some reason, the Admiral would like to have them drawn, and the TV on. He knows he will be leaving soon for a while, but he wants to feel that he is here, doing whatever it is he is supposed to be doing. That is why he brought this TV here, with him. That is why he does not close his eyes.

That was a joke, but it was not a very good one, now.

The Admiral is trying to remember his military career. He remembers something he was supposed to do, many years ago. In his head, it still seems to be very important. It seemed important at the time. He is not sure why. He is not sure if that is all there is to it.

He is very tired, and he does not think it is very likely that, if he were still in space, he would be feeling any different. He supposes not.

And yet...

The Admiral remembers being twenty-five. He was fresh out of pilot school, having passed, and he had thought this was what it felt like, to be young and in love, to have your whole career ahead of you.

You will die, the admiral had said. You will probably die. I will go with you.

"Yes," he whispered, and his lips were trembling. Yes.

#admiral-craymen

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rickybowensfever · 2 years

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Brotherly Love - TSITP

Remember me? I’ve had such writers block but stories have been brewing my head. I just haven’t had a lot of passion to write this year, I’ve been really burned out creatively. But, I watched The Summer I Turned Pretty show and I have some Conrad focused sickfics I’ve been working on. In 2015, after reading the series, I actually wrote a Conrad sickfic on Fanfiction.net so I might rewrite it since I never finished it lol

Here’s the first one!

Jeremiah shines in this story as we see his nurturing capabilities be put to the test. I'm basing this story off of the episode where Conrad is hungover and Jere helps him recover.

Conrad wakes up with a stomach flu the day of Beach Day. Laurel and Susannah are out on the town while the kids go to the beach for the day.

CW: mention of vomit, not graphic

Posted on AO3 and Wattpad

Inspired by this scene in the gif below (S1 E2 Summer Dress)

Conrad walked down the flight of stairs feeling lightheaded and sick to his stomach. He held onto the railing trying to balance himself and get to the kitchen all in one piece. He slept like crap all night, tossing and turning as nausea crept up on him around 5 o'clock in the morning.

As he made it into the kitchen, he was startled by his younger brother's tenacity. "Conrad! There you are! We're about to leave for the beach. You coming?" he cried, grinning with his pearly whites, standing by the counter in front of an open backpack.

Conrad looked at him trying to find the energy to speak. He closed his eyes briefly while holding onto the edge of the breakfast bar with his hands to regain his balance. He took a deep breath and re-opened them to see his brother still standing there waiting for a response.

Making eye contact with a perky Jeremiah, Conrad said "Nah, you guys go. I feel sick" running one hand through his messy hair.

Jeremiah's golden retriever energy immediately vanished when he noticed his brother's sluggish behavior and the color sapped from his face. Jere's smiley grin turned to a concerned frown as he observed Conrad's slow breathing and bright pink cheeks.

"Woah. You don't look good" Jeremiah said seeing his complexion closer, holding up his palm to feel Conrad's boiling forehead.

"Duuddee! Go lie on the couch. I'll take care of ya before I have to leave" he said all chipper racing over to the fridge to grab some water.

"Okay" Conrad whispered taking his time as he slowly walked over to the couch. His head and vision felt foggy.

He lay his head on a pillow covering himself with the only blanket he could find and closed his eyes. The sound of Jeremiah whispering to himself and the opening and closing of the kitchen cabinets made it impossible for him to relax.

Once he finally felt like he was about to sleep, he jolted awake. "Hey! Do you have a cough or anything?" Jeremiah hollered from the other room making a ruckus.

"No. It's just my stomach and head" he said softly.

"Ah, okay!" the boy shouted again. Conrad winced in annoyance.

Finally, it was silent. Conrad sighed feeling relieved as his head kept pounding. He started to rub his temples hoping to ease the pain when he felt a gentle shake of his arm. He slowly opened his eyes to see his brother squatting by the couch with a bottle of Tylenol, a thermometer, and a water bottle.

"Where's Mom and Laurel?" Conrad whispered. Jeremiah jokingly scoffed, "Am I doing a bad job already?"

"No, no. You're doing fine. I'm just asking" he muttered taking the cold water from his hands.

"Mom and Laurel went in town for the day. That's why we all decided to do a beach day. Bummer you have to miss out" he said sincerely, taking a seat on the edge of the couch looking up at his older brother as he chugged the water bottle.

"Thanks. I was super lightheaded" Conrad explained, putting the empty plastic water bottle on the coffee table.

Jeremiah held up a thermometer, "Alright, I've gotta go soon but I'll let Mom know you're hanging here" he said handing the small digital instrument to him.

"Thanks," he said before sticking it under his tongue.

Jeremiah sat looking around the room while they waited. He pulled out his phone to text his mother and Steven to tell him he was just finishing up at the house.

Beep.

Jeremiah shot up from his phone jolting out of focus and leaned over to grab the thermometer from his brother's mouth.

"Yep, you're sick" he said examining the reading. Conrad perched his eyebrows waiting for the verdict.

"100.1" he announced, setting the instrument down on the coffee table and picking up the bottle of Tylenol. "Take this and get some rest. Text me if you need anything, I'll just be down at the beach" he instructed grinning softly.

Conrad nodded the blanket up to his neck.

"Thanks, Jere" he whispered and closed his eyes.

---

Once Jeremiah made it down to the beach, Belly's face lit up at the sight of him. "Hey!! What took you so long?" she asked.

"Conrad was supposed to come with us but he's sick" Jeremiah explained putting his backpack down on the blanket.

"Is he okay?" she asked looking like she'd seen a ghost.

"Oh, yeah. He'll be fine, Bells! We'll stay here while he gets some rest. But you stay with us. My Mom would kill me if you got sick before the Deb Ball" he said taking a seat right next to her in the sand.

"Oh my God, I'll be fine. Don't treat me like a baby" she said throwing a handful of sand at him. Jeremiah squealed and laughed, "Oh, you're on!" he said glaring at her. He packed sand in his fist and stood up to throw it on her head.

Belly yelped quickly shooting up and booking it toward the ocean laughing ferociously in the process as she made it to the water.

###

When Jeremiah returned to the house, Conrad was nowhere in sight. He looked around the living room anxiously to search for him. Where could he be in their average-sized house? he thought until he heard soft footsteps coming out of the bathroom.

"Oh, hey" Conrad said slowly walking over to the couch he'd been occupying all day.

"You okay?" Jeremiah said his pupils dilated, trying to process what was happening in front of him.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just got a little sick but I think I'm done now" he said nodding his head and sitting back down on the couch.

Jeremiah's hands flung in the air, "Alright... Well, I'm heading to the store. I'll pick up some more Gatorade and Ginger Ale just to have in the fridge. Need anything?" he asked nervously.

Jeremiah could handle almost anything. But puking was his one deal breaker.

"Sure, that sounds good. I think I have a stomach flu or something. So weird" he announced lying his legs down and throwing the blanket over top of him to get comfortable again.

Jeremiah grimaced shivering at the image forming in his head and grabbed his car keys, "Hm, weird. Be right back!" he said sprinting out the door.

###

Conrad slept disheveled on the couch snoring softly. His quiet nature following him to sleep when the back door shut loudly jolting him out of a sound sleep. He groaned as he realized the nausea still lingered and sweat stuck to his basketball shorts and t-shirt.

"Sorry" Belly whispered running through the foyer. Her footsteps were loud enough to fully wake him. She stopped in her tracks to peak over into the living room. "Shit" she muttered cursing herself for not obeying Jere's commands.

Conrad swung his feet over the couch and cocked his head to see her.

"Sssh" he said blinking his tired eyes at her.

She froze cursing herself knowing Jere was going to have some words with her if he knew she'd come into contact with his brother.

"I'm sorry!" she said.

Conrad perched his eyebrows and yawned.

The front door shut as Jeremiah walked into the foyer holding plastic bags. He was furious.

"Belly. What are you doing in here?" he barked in a whisper turning his head to see Conrad fully awake waving at him.

Jeremiah groaned. "What did I tell you!"

"I'm sorry. I really am. I just uh came in to fix my bathing suit."

"Fix your bathing suit and come right back down. We're going back to the beach. That's final" Jeremiah commanded. His face grew beat red and his eyebrows cocked in anger.

Belly nodded at Jeremiah's command running to the steps leading to her bedroom.

"Ugh. I told her to leave you alone. I'll be in deep shit if anything happens to her before the Deb Ball" Jeremiah explained to his brother.

Conrad chuckled, "It's fine. She didn't mean it" he said yawning.

"How ya feeling?" he asked

Conrad shrugged, "I've been better. My headache's mostly gone though" he said folding the blanket and leaving it on the couch.

"Nice, nice" Jeremiah said, plastic bags still in his hands. "I'll go put these away" he motioned to the bags turning around toward the kitchen.

"I think I'm just gonna go up to bed" Conrad said letting out a long yawn, walking into the kitchen to the extra pair of steps.

"Good idea. It's probably quieter. I hope we didn't bother you"

"Nah, you're good" he replied disappearing into the abyss.

###

After a much-needed day of rest and hydrating, Conrad's nausea finally subsided by the evening. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and pulled out his phone composing a much-needed message.

C: Thanks for being there today. Hope it wasn't too bad.

J: Dude np! anytime. That's what brothers are for :)

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

Authors Note: I love Conrad and Jere's brotherly bond. Jeremiah is so caring and has a big heart, so I hope I was able to capture it in this story!

#tsitp season 1 #the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher #conrad #jeremiah #belly conklin #sickfic #sickfics #sick!conrad #sick characters

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